we're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.

21 July 2001

I've got about 100 pages left in The Hobbit, and I'm starting to understand why so many people love that book-- it's addicting. You want to keep reading to find out what happens. I want to finish it before I go out tonight.

Speaking of which, I'm supposed to be going to see The Offspring tonight. I haven't seen them live in about 6 years-- last time it was at UNLV's intramural field with The Lunachicks and some other bands, and I saw them from a very far distance. This time it's at the Joint at the Hard Rock, so it's a tad more intimate. My thing is that I just don't want to be involved with a nasty pit like last night. I don't mind if you mosh, kids, just don't think it's going to make my concert-going experience better. I'm there to watch a band, not make sure people aren't getting hurt.

So I guess it's about time I start ranting about some of the tracks I've been hearing from Tori's new album... I've heard the three that are on the promo now-- hearing "Heart of Gold" today-- and I guess as a woman, a Toriphile, and as a music critic, I can say what I think so far:

The first thing I heard was "Strange Little Girl." I thought, Okay, she's gone pop now. It reminded me of seeing her with the band 2 years ago. Just full-out production, full-out arrangements-- which have always been somewhat of a mark of Tori's, ever since the first album ("Tear In Your Hand" being the most notable example there). But something just didn't seem right about it, and maybe that's Tori's whole point-- I'll explain that a little more in a minute.

The second thing I heard was "'97 Bonnie & Clyde" and it reminded me of "Datura" from Venus. There was this intoxication about it, and I don't know if was the slow sort of drawl in her voice, or the breathiness of it, or because she has a daughter like Eminem does. It made it more creepy, somehow. It took me a few listens to get used to it, because she's not really rapping, nor is she really just reading the words. It's like she's acting, going all out with this character.

And then today I heard "Heart of Gold," and I thought, She's lost the plot on this one. I couldn't even finish downloading it. I felt like she was trying to do this artsy-fartsy atonal thing, twisting the song into something completely different. I couldn't really listen to it.

That being said, listening to these songs just make me more interested in hearing the rest of it. I think the idea here that people forget is that these songs are supposed to be sung by characters, and not necessarily the aspect that we know as Tori Amos. That's the main thing that I don't think people are getting on this. People don't like it because it's not really Tori. Of course it's not Tori-- she's said flat out from the beginning they're women singing the songs from their perspective-- so you're not going to get what you thing you're going to get. Neil was perfectly right when he said it's not what you're expecting, because it's not. It's not Tori, so you have to throw every expectation out the window. I mean, she's taken pictures of these characters for the liner notes, having Neil write the stories for them! This is an experiment in pop, and Goddess bless her for doing that, because a lot of non-musicians don't understand that the whole idea of covers is to re-interpret the songs in a new way, make them your own-- or, in this case, make them your characters.

And what's similar on all of these songs is the fact that she's using the keyboards again, and she's got Adrian Belew doing guitar, as opposed to Steve Caton, which makes a very big difference. This is someone new to the band realm, someone who's worked with so many other artists, bringing a sound that Toriphiles might not be used to. When Boys for Pele came out (which was right after I started listening to Tori myself), everybody went apeshit over the fact that she started using the harpsichord. I thought that was brilliant. Then after about a year or so some people started coming back and saying that was her best album. The same thing with choirgirl. For me, I went back and listened to Venus again, and I heard a lot of things I didn't notice before. It's starting to become a regular CD player staple now.

What people forget-- and a lot of critics are included in this-- is that Tori's always had some type of electronic element somewhere on her albums. There were keyboards all over "Winter" and "Girl" on Little Earthquakes. Come on, she was using breakbeats on the b-side "Sugar" from that era, and on "God" in Under the Pink! And there more electronic beats on "Caught a Lite Sneeze" and "Professional Widow" on Pele. The remixers notice these things, but not most other people do, and then when I heard "Raspberry Swirl" on choirgirl I couldn't wait to see how she'd interpret it live-- it's a song about oral sex, for goodness sake-- and it was a fun song. She wasn't trying to ride the techno movement-- if you're looking for casulties of that fiasco, just ask Moby, who did a rock album right when that hit-- she was trying to explore new ways for her girls to come out. "Juるez" I think was a premonition of this album to come, writing from a dark place that isn't necessarily yours. And on Venus she was adding a lot of electronic nuances that I think a lot of people missed-- like that beat on "1000 Oceans," the same one from "Sugar" and the remix of "Hey Jupiter"-- and don't think that, eventually, she was bound to break away from just the old standby of Girl-Piano.

Which brings us to the tour. She's going solo this time, which she hasn't done since the early 90's and the Little Earthquakes tour. Now the first time I saw her was back in '96 when it was her and Caton, which blew me away because it was one of the most intense shows I've ever been to. He was adding nuances to her performance that could've been done by keyboards, but it was just her and him and the hum of the A/C. She re-interprets the songs to what she's doing. For example, the first time I heard her solo version of "Juるez" I couldn't believe it-- it was even more intense than the studio version. And that's Tori's draw-- just that rawness of her performances. And now that these Strange Little Girls are born, they add a new dynamic to her live performance. I don't know if she's going out with piano and keyboards or just piano, but either way it will be something that I don't think everybody's going to expect. Like I said, that's her whole point. This is an experiment, whether you like it or not, and it's not going to make one difference either way if this album brings in new fans or not-- she wants to make you think, just like she always has.

So. There's my Tori rant, take it or leave it. I don't even know if anybody's going to read it.

.the girl who is not very 3:13 PM [+].

20 July 2001

I really like writing in here better than the other journal-thing I was using. Not that the other one was bad, necessarily, but this one just seems... easier.

So I was at a show earlier tonight-- one of the last major shows for The Sanctuary. Wait, I already mentioned that. The show was okay, but short-- started about eight-ish and after three bands it was already over a little before ten. It barely felt like a show, except during the last band, Hope Conspiracy, people were windmilling in the pit, causing a couple of fights, one of which I almost got bowled over by.

They're turning The Sanctuary into a studio after it's all over. It will be sorely missed.

Rozzie's package was sent out today. I realized as I was filling out the customs form that I had to list everything in there, which for some reason I felt as if I were telling them some great secret. Shhh, don't tell anybody, but there's... gasp! a jumping Gremlins toy in here! it was like I was leery of telling them there were pictures and a magazine and a couple of other things in it.

(By the way Roz, if you're reading this, disregard all that stuff I just wrote. You're actually getting coal. Really.)

Worked a little today. Lately I'll write little bits after checking up on research stuff, add maybe 50 words here or there. One of my favorite sites is the Encyclopedia Mythica-- a good place for quick reference if you want to look up things. It's where I found out about Ament, one of my pet goddesses-- not that anyone should have goddesses for pets, but there are some deities that inspire you, even if you don't necessarily worship them. I like to write about her.

I have a short piece. It's still first draft. Fuck it, I'll put it up anyway.

---

Penelope

You left me here, alone. And here I am, waiting for you.
I shouldn't be here like this, but it was not my choice. You are just a man, with his own abilities and his own name and his own sons and wife to leave behind. The gods give you what you are due here, and within the confines of what I deserve, I will wait.
The men surround me now, and with all of the attention I receive, even my own son suffocates me now: He looks and acts just like you, you know, with his wild hair and flash-eyes and constant shadow of a jawline that makes him appear world-weary even though he knows nothing. The men surround me with their affections and I supplicate them with lies. They know I speak shadow-truths, because the dark hope that you will set foot on my floor again is the only thing that causes hesitation.
They come to me in darkness, while all the servants are away, while our son is asleep, and they stand by the door, waiting for the sound of my breath as the invitation. They come to me, and they're so young, almost as young as our son, but each and every one of them knows my body, about the solid shadows bodies become in the dark, right before the Dawn rises rosy-fingered.
Each and every one of them knows my body like you know the sea, love, and they chart the course with scars: Little pinpricks that mark the dark places where your memory is waiting. It is only a matter of time before I will be accustomed to their skin, as they are accustomed to my tender lies, as I am accustomed to your absence.
I am weaving our story, love. I thread our lives through memories, through the very fabric of time. I am waiting for your return, and so I must destroy the thread, and the hopes of my suitors, and start anew with my story, dark like our son's hair.
You left me here, love. The sea lured you, and she is a harsher mistress than you could ever imagine. I know that. She commands real love from you. Poseidon will not wait-- he takes his offerings any way he can. I don't know what you were looking for. Our son tried to explain it to me, but the frustration swallows him. All of these men in the house, and he is the only one left to sort them out as they feast on all you left behind-- my body the prize.
Who will remember me when I'm gone? Our son may have your features, but he has my face-- the Suitors will remember me forever, even when they pine over my ghost. When you die-- for I know you can't be dead yet, haunting the halls of my mind-- your adventures will bear your mark into time, while no-one will know anything of me but my lonliness. No-one will ever know the pain of strangers as they lie on top of you while you strain to remember what your body felt like, how you smelled, how warm your breath was.
I saw the sea today. She was gray; she was waiting. But she said nothing to me. We all come from the water, but only few of us truly understand it. There are no signs in the waves anymore.
I wanted to see your ship rise over the horizon, but Hermes' winds only swept the clouds through, leaving nothing behind. I will stand here, as the sun passes and the moon slips through the sky, while I am touched by scarring hands, hands that want to hurt you and hurt our son because he hates them all. He hates that you are gone and that your name will live past him: The price of immortality left in between the blades of the Fates. My fate lies in your hands, love. I wait to feel them on my skin once again.

---

But at least it's finished. That's the thing now. It's always been the thing, but I was always stuck somewhere. I'm going to finish things. Dammit.

.the girl who is not very 11:13 PM [+].

I think there was something I was going to rant about, but now I can't remember.

Went to work and went out to lunch with Dad at Crown & Anchor today, which was very nice. But I got home in time to finish Rozzie's package right when the post office was closed. So that's number one on things to do tomorrow. I have to go to a show tomorrow night, because I promised two of the bands I'd be there, and it's one of the last major shows at The Sanctuary, which is very closing its doors after Saturday night. It's very sad, because now all the major bands coming to town with small crowds have to play The Huntridge. A sad weekend indeed.

I got a fortune cookie today. It said, A pleasant surprise is coming your way. If that's not vague enough, I don't know what would be worse. I don't know what kind of surprises I could have at this point, considering all the crap that's been happening-- oh I didn't mention the fact that I called CHP about that speeding ticket I had in Buttonwillow (Eater Of Cars) and the automated thingie told me I had to appear in court, so that's not helping matters out that much right now-- since it seems that things just go downhill. Okay, not so much downhill, but they happen like a murder of crows, just all at once, and then you're left wondering what could be next.

Not that things are truly terrible. I wouldn't be writing in here if that were the case. But sometimes, emotional mishaps just happen like mushrooms in the forest: They come out of the darkness, tweaking their umbrellas just enough to spawn more and then they disappear until the next storm comes. You take the good with the bad-- I understand this. But I wish I could just, for once, have little things here and there and not one big thing every six months or so.

It's frustrating.

I might put up one of the pieces I've been working on. I have to finish the very slow and tedious formatting of the old journal, which is getting there like the turtle.

.the girl who is not very 12:31 AM [+].

19 July 2001

I should've done my research.

I get my memory only to realize it's not the right size. And I can't take it back, because it's not defective. Maybe it'll work on the broken PC I have sitting in the closet, waiting for Brandon to get a new hard drive for-- this weekend, I think, we're going to the computer show. Maybe I can pick up some cheap RAM there. Until then, I had to break out an old strip of 64 that I had from when I was upgrading the iMac.

But at least I can do more than check my e-mail, like write in here. So that's good. Ladies and germs, my first post on my iBook. Innit great.

Had a couple of drinks down at Moose's tonight, just because it was dollar drink night. Danced a little. Got tired. Came home with dinner and now I'm all ready for bed. Actually, I'm not even in my jammies yet...

Ah yes. All better. I love these things.

But I forgot what it was exactly I was going to write about. Oh. Las Vegas bands.

A lot of people ask me about the local music scene. More often than not I get a lot of questions from out-of-towners on what's hot here, as opposed to what's really good. It's frustrating, because in this town there's a definite difference between what's hot and what's actually good. I have a few suggestions from what I've seen in the past six months I've been writing for CityLife:

First of all, if you're coming here looking for raw talent, go to an open mic first. There are some terrible nights, but down at Espresso Roma, every once in awhile, someone will really get up and rock the mic. I mean, just a person, with a guitar, and you can see they have it, even with the bad PA system. And there are open mics going on at quite a few places now.

That having been said, here are some bands that I've either seen or have records from that I like:

Hemlock. I saw these guys for the first time last year, finally, after hearing about them ever since I could remember. They've been around for almost 8 or 9 years now, and despite the fact that you can't understand a word and their sound may be too hard for most people's taste (including mine), their live show is phenomenal. They command a crowd-- so commanding in fact that the last show they had at the House of Blues included an all-girl pit.

Blueline. In a previous incarnation, they were called Mouthful, and had a lot of good buzz, but just dissipated, and two of the members started this particular band, who's seen a couple of bass players already. They play darker, melodic, driving rock that most people would probably just put under the banner of emo (a style too often imitated around these parts, since The Deftones are so big here) but there's something more underneath (perversion, actually, but don't tell them that).

God Among Men. They've moved on to greener pastures up in Sacramento, but when they come down here to play once a month, they pack The Boston with driving rock, and the lead singer Liz, just wails. Plus they play this haunting version of Tool's "Sober" that actually makes you want to drink.

Jovis. These guys went through so many member changes, they changed their name as well-- Penny's Pet Dragonfly being their previous life. They have dreamy, electric/acoustic rock that's reminicent of more innocent Smashing Pumpkins-- but who hasn't compared them to that band. My hope is that they don't end up going down Billy Corgan's road and have half the world hate them because they're self-serving assholes. Oh wait, that's just my opinion getting in the way, don't mind me.

Face Down. Another band that just puts on a good show-- glow-in-the-dark makeup, lighting effects, the whole bit. When they play it's a show, not just a concert. They sound White Zombie-ish without the girl bass player, with a little metal thrown in for good measure. And their really nice guys to boot, totally different from their menacing stage presence.

3rd Man In. They're punk, but there's something forboding about their sound, like you're waiting for the real issues to come out and they're just leading you down this path with no light at all to help you.

Joynt Chiefs. Everybody almost hates them now because they're a little overexposed. All the same, their a great party band-- hip-hop and reggae influenced-- and know how to get a crowd into it.

Cornerstone. Again, hip-hop, but with a little something different thrown in that's more than just rap-rock. Jigsaw's rapping style's just enough off-kilter to make you wonder if he's for real or not.

So that's just off the top of my head right now at, oh, two in the morning. There are bands on every corner in this town, most of them not even able to play shows because their either too young, or to lazy, or just out of the loop and nobody notices. I should know, bands are fickle, fragile things, and keeping them in check while trying to figure out if it's really what you want to do is very hard. I give mad props to any band who lasts more than a couple of years, espeically in a transient town like Vegas. Hats off to you guys.

Meanwhile, as far as my own musical inclinations go, there really are none right now. Just plucking my guitar alone every once in awhile to make sure I'm still here. But because Drop_Alpha's in limbo, I'm not holding my breath for it. I've got other things to do, like get on with my own career, wherever that's going to take me. I looked at my bass today and realized I might not ever really play it again. I'm hoping that won't be the case, but the summer's almost half over and I'm still not even jamming with anybody. It's sad.

Yeah. So. Bed. Good.

.the girl who is not very 2:18 AM [+].

18 July 2001

So today my memory arrived for my iBook-- a day and a half after I'd ordered it-- and realize I don't have any screwdrivers small enough to get the screws out. This after trying desperately with all different sorts of small tidbits to use and cursing at my failure. It will have to wait until I can find something that's really that small.

I'm almost done with Rozzie's package. It'll probably be sent out Friday. Maybe even tomorrow afternoon if I rush it a little. Putting together packages is an art-- especially if they're going far away like Japan, where this one is-- and you've got themes, and presents, and surprises.

I didn't realize it was 7:30. And I'm going out tonight. Shower is good.

.the girl who is not very 7:27 PM [+].

Yesterday, I spent most of the day formatting journal entries. I didn't realize how tedious that actually is. The words are written, that's not a problem, and the fitting in the code is basically copy-pasting, which isn't a problem either. It's just the text itself, with all the out-of-the-way line breaks, that's the problem. I'm not even half way done and it took forever to just get a third of a page done. I'm still debating just taking today off from page work and just working on other stuff.

Last night was spent at Roma with the iBook actually working. Really working, in between questions about the laptop with the glowing apple on the front and the Tori wallpaper on my desktop.

I'm realizing that I work both on paper and on the computer pretty well-- I mean, I like them both. With the computer it's faster, but with paper you take up more room when you write so there's a feeling of "I filled up all that space? Damn." about it. Last night I did both, for two different stories.

What I'm also starting to realize is that I want to finish things first before I send out anything more. I want to finish the two stories I'm working on now and get a couple of drafts in (at least) until I think about searching for places to submit. I've got the journalism thing going in the meantime, but I don't really know where that's going to go in the next year or so. Right now it's just getting me hanging out time with bands like Blueline and Pull. Not that that's a bad thing, I just want something more, I guess. I'm ready for the next step.

.the girl who is not very 1:32 PM [+].

17 July 2001

I read the best piece of advice yesterday. You put one word in front of the other until it's done.

I get stuck on things all the time. I'll start writing about a character and then they'll stop speaking to me for awhile. I hate that, because I've just started to get to know them and then they just walk away from me like it's no big thing. Then I have to file them away somewhere. I'll start on a story, and get really far into it, and even when I know the ending I want to write it's not the ending that fits. And then I try and make it fit and it just ends up putting things where I shouldn't. Square pegs, round holes again.

But I wrote the ending that I wanted to write for a story last night, even though I'm probably barely halfway through the story already. I look at it as building a bridge: Every brick that I lay there is one more step that character can take, putting one word in front of the other to get to the other end of it.

Okay, so that was a terrible analogy, but you get my point. I want to finish these stories. They all have ideas swimming around somewhere, even if they aren't endings. And I'm always looking for alternate realities for characters.

I even wrote a short piece last night about Penelope from Homer's Odyssey. It made me stay up until five in the morning thinking about it. And then I got five and a half hours of sleep only to realize I didn't finish the article I was supposed to turn in before my computer decided to get all spoggly.

And so here I am, with a new iBook next to me that came straight from the CompUSA floor with 115 free mp3s that I don't think they were really aware were on there. Oh well, their loss.

By the way, if you came here because you heard about it, and happen to see me up at Roma on Monday nights reading poetry, I didn't stalk Neil Gaiman. I went on a road trip. Those are two totally different things entirely.

And besides, he's got worse stalkers than me, anyway. And they're much cooler than I am. Seriously.

.the girl who is not very 12:27 PM [+].

16 July 2001

Before I go to bed...

I've been ripping all my old journal entries from Diaryland and formatting them to text. I'll have them up and archived here soon, just in case they get obliterated completely into the vortex that is ones and zeroes.

I've written a couple of poems in as many days. I want to put them up soon. Hopefully I will.

.the girl who is not very 2:49 AM [+].

15 July 2001

Okay, so some more blabbing away as the weekend comes to a close...

So. I don't know what's really going on with The Boyfriend. Or Ex. Or Friend. Or something. I called last night only to find he was genuinely surprised that I called him. After our State of the Union discussion on the phone Thursday and me having all kinds of fucked up shit going on-- and yes, it was fucked up shit, there's no polite way of getting around it-- I've been trying to figure out what's going on in my own head, let alone letting someone else into the madness and leaving carnage behind. See, I believe that people really can help you through problems, but I also believe that it's not fair to get them involved until you've been able to figure out where you stand emotionally. If that makes any kind of sense at all.

Maybe I'm just restless. He said on Thursday that it feels like (to him) that I'm waiting for something else. And I am. I can't say what I'm looking for, because I don't know, and if I knew I'd never find it. I guess I'm just waiting, in a good sense, for the other shoe to drop. I'm waiting to get on with the next phase of my life, because someone like me can get so bored so quickly and not even realize it until it's too late. Meanwhile, we live with what we're dealt.

I don't ever feel that I don't need someone else's help with my problems-- although it may seem that way when I say I'm fine and it doesn't look like I am. I'm just trying to figure things out.

I read somewhere, "I just want someone to understand that sometimes I don't feel right inside and to be there when it's over." Sometimes, I just don't feel right, and maybe I don't want you to help me, and sometimes I need someone to vent to. Just be there, that's all you have to do.

.the girl who is not very 1:54 PM [+].

I'm really tired. I shouldn't even be here typing. I should be turning in early. But you know how we writers are, we're compelled to tell our story, even if nobody reads it.

Put simply, it's been a bad week. Relationship problems, computer problems, communication problems, and now family problems.

I've made friends with my silence. I've made friends with her because I can, and because she's been the only thing in this world that hasn't hurt me yet. I use her as a weapon, and she protects me from harm, and in return I give her sanctuary around me and sometimes within me.

But she's also made me see things, things that I wouldn't necessarily otherwise see in people, and she's made me see things within myself without all the meddlesome noise of the world creeping in.

Silence is my tool, and every tool is a weapon if you hold it right, to quote a phrase.

I remember a graduation party that I went to my sophomore year in college, and the girl that was graduating, Lo, was talked up not only because of her creativity and her intelligence, but because she was the kind of person who was quiet, and used her silence as a way to view the world and a way to interact and make a mark on it. She didn't need noise, they'd said.

The question that's been running through my mind for months-- no, since Mom died, make that 3 and a half years now-- is why do people think that just because I don't dump everything on them that automatically makes me someone who hasn't grieved Mom's death?

Everyone grieves in their own way, I learned that on my own, way before I read about it in college. And I'll be dammed if someone assumes that just because I don't talk about my mother all the time that makes me a bad person. They don't know the screenplay I wrote. They don't know the senior project I wrote. They don't know about the poems, the stories I heard, the times I sat down and had friends tell me stories about Mom. They don't know how open about it I really am, so open like that so others can understand. Is it un-PC for me to just sit there and be talking with Mom in my own way, knowing that she's there guiding me? Is it bad for me to think that it hurts when people who haven't talked to Mom in years make assumptions about her? Don't they know how happy/hurtful it sounds when relatives say I look just like her?

I believe that blood is blood. But I also believe that you back up what you say, and I also believe that exaggerations of love can only go so far. Just because they're dead doesn't give you the right to treat them like a celebrity. "Oh I remember when..." yes, I do too. But it's over now, and I can't change that, nor can I change the fact that when someone is dead, that's it. You face your demons, tell them they suck, know that your loved one will be there for you (wherever he/she is), and move on.

People mean well. Their hearts are in the right place. But sometimes they say things that stay ingrained in your mind, regardless of however many physical scars you have.

I think about Mom every day. I'm reminded that she's not here all the time. And it frankly sucks. But just because I've made my grieving internal doesn't make it any less valid. So don't tell me how to deal with things just because you don't understand. Nobody understands death, that's the whole point. You find it all out when you get there.

.the girl who is not very 12:53 AM [+].