Hello fine friends / Those of you who still check your myspace pages...

As promised on my E-Newsletter earlier this week, I just posted a new song ("Nothing to Do With You") on my Myspace page, and plan to continue posting new songs for you to check out.

THAT said, the song is still "processing," so it may take a day for the Myspace goblins to actually make it show up (especially since they're spending most of their time plotting an attack on the Facebook gnomes. You should have seen what they did to Friendster. It was disturbing). But just know - I kept my promise of posting a new song by today :)

All of this was made possible by a fantastic grant awarded to me by Club Passim and their Iguana Fund. I used my grant to purchase recording equipment, and plan to post new music regularly.

Keep checking back!
Kate

www.kateklim.com

So, I’ve just returned home from a fun string of five college gigs in four days. It ended with last night’s show at SUNY Cortland, which was modest in attendance but the small crowd allowed me to force members of the audience to share secrets (I myself even felt brave enough to share the story about that time I got punched in the face. PS- Thanks Becca). There was some fun with the demo button, and two hours later it was back to the hotel.

Here’s the deal with the hotel: They put me in a suite. Two rooms. One of me. TV to Guest ratio= 2:1. This led me to realize several things:

1) I need more friends. A true rock star would have trashed the place.

2) I should probably go ahead and get that drug addiction now. Currently, I’m too much of a sissy to push it past Starbucks and Pez.

3) At any given moment, Law and Order is playing on some channel, somewhere. I propose that rather than having it play at 8 on A&E, 9 on TNT and 10 on NBC, we just go ahead and make a Law and Order channel, which would make it easier to locate or avoid, depending on your preference.

Anyways, when it came time to checkout, everything became clear. The school had reserved the room for me, apparently over the phone, because the receipt read,

"Cape Klim"

rather than

"Kate Klim."

They had not bumped me to a suite because I am a rock star, or even a wanna be rock star. They bumped me because they mistook me for a South African city, Robert DeNiro movie, or NASA Launch site.

But I figure Mandella, DeNiro or Buzz Aldrin all would have trashed the room, too, so I knocked over a lamp and left the maid some Pez. You’re only young once...

Well, I know my blogs as of late have been quite introspective. This one is is just a reminder for folks within 100 miles of Boston to come to Passim this Sunday (March 2nd) for a show I am REALLY looking forward to. I get to share the stage with two phenomenal songwriters- Liz Stahler and Kym Tuvim. So come, and hear at least 4 of my 7 new songs (soon to be 8). :) It's even been requested that I read some more passages from "the memoir," so I'll be sure to do some writing this weekend.

That said, I just have to share that the local night school offers a blacksmithing class, and I'm quite tempted. Mainly because I just want to have a business card that reads:

Kate Klim
Singer/Songwriter/Blacksmith

and because of that, the quote of the week at my house has become:

"Kate, what did you do to my sword?"
"I don't know, but I'll make you a new one"

Have a great Tuesday.

I made the largest purchase of my life yesterday... a sexy "pre-owned" (can't we just say used?) Honda Civic. So the subaru and I made our final voyage together (she didn't know she was being put to sleep). She was, after all, 18 years old, which in car years is 126. (This calculation is made based on my assumption that cars and dogs are somehow related.)

As promised, here's the list of crap found when cleaning out my old car:

-Approximately $7.00 in pennies. I am convinced that the pennies somehow made their way to the darkest crevices of my car and then spawned.

-(1) 20' banner with my name, bookended with 2'x3' pictures of yours truly. Seeing your own head that big is frightening, yet fun.

-(2) forks (one plastic, one metal)

-(5) Blank birthday cards, all bought for specific friends but never given. (If I owe any of you a birthday card, that's why.)

-(1) Pair large men's swim trunks

-(3) pairs of shoes

-(1) 2'x3' dry erase board, complete with to-do list from 2002.

-Approximately 1 million turnpike receipts (give or take 800,000)

-(1) bangles CASSETTE.

-(1) handful of memories, both good and bad (2 break-ins, 2 blown tires, 2 amazing drives to Lake Winnipesaukee, countless songs written on the route between Boston and Philly, and all of my first experiences as a touring singer/songwriter, to name a few)

So, may you rest in peace (well, in pieces), Lady McG. You served me well, and in some strange way, I'll miss you.

-Kate

I don't know what it was about this past fall/winter, perhaps some cosmic imbalance (ok, I don't really buy that) or perhaps synchronicity, but just about everyone I know was dealing with some kind of hardship. A few of us even felt like we were being pummeled.

For me, as life got harder, I became intensely focused on being a good person. I felt like it was the one thing that I could control in the situation, and kept me believing that there would be an upswing. Because there's always an upswing. Maybe being a good person could expedite it.

So, I'd say the upswing began on Thursday, with me finding the perfect place to live, and thus finally feeling at home in Philadelphia. The story of how I found this house is so absurd that I can only compare it to the ending of "Miracle on 34th Street," which is described here:

"On Christmas morning, Susan is disillusioned because Kris was unable to get her what she told him she wanted most, a house in the suburbs. As they are about to leave, Kris gives Fred and Doris a route home, supposedly to avoid traffic. Along the way, Susan is overjoyed to see the house of her dreams with a For Sale sign in the front yard. (The house exactly matches the drawing she had shown Kris earlier.) Fred learns that Doris had encouraged Susan to have faith, and suggests they purchase the house. He then boasts that he must be a great lawyer, since he managed to do the seemingly impossible. However, when he notices a cane leaning against the fireplace that looks exactly like the one Kris used, he remarks uncertainly, "Maybe I didn't do such a wonderful thing after all."

So change the suburbs to the Main Line, and Santa to God, and you have a pretty good description. Sometimes things fall into place so gracefully that you can't blame it on coincidence. The upswing has since included a great gig, a new song, and even some financial gain.

So strong was my faith in this upswing, in fact, that today when I lost my phone, I knew it would be ok. And this wasn't "fell behind the couch" lost, or even "left it at the store" lost. I knew without a doubt that it was "fell out of my coat pocket" lost (which is the worst kind short of "stolen in that mugging" lost). So I retraced my steps, and eventually tracked it down at a Pier 1 Imports store (which I had been in for all of five minutes). It had indeed fallen out of my pocket in the parking lot.

When I returned home, I announced,

"The good news is that I found my phone"

followed by,

"the bad news is that it got run over by a car."

Still, my faith was strong. I was actually relieved that I had at least located the phone, and no one was using it to make phone calls to Haiti. Plus, I thought it was pretty damn funny. And while the screen on the inside was completely smashed, the display on the outside was in tact, which meant the phone was at least partially working and still held all my contacts.

Off to the Verizon store I went, still laughing but also a bit sad about the money I was about to spend on a new phone. I walked to the counter, and with a huge smile announced. "My phone got run over by a car. I didn't buy the insurance for it. I pretty much want to get out of here as cheaply as possible."

Not being the first phone I've broken, I was expecting an attempt at an upsell, and hoping for at least a discount if I agreed to extend my contract. Instead it was met with a pleasant "I'll see what we can do."

As the clerk began to walk away, he turned back and said,

"You seem awfully chipper given the situation."

I told him about the relief of finding the phone before any Haitian phone calls, about the fact that getting your phone run over is pretty hilarious, and lastly, that I am an optimist.

So, upswing, thank you once again. Thank you for the "exception" made tonight by the store manager, without me even asking for it. Thank you for a brand new $300 phone for $50. Thank you for reminding me that life yields far better results when you approach it with a smile on your face.

And thank you, after two months of trying to ward off pessimism, for returning me to my former optimistic self.

It's good to be back.

Well, Christmas is over.

The post-game highlights:

6 (no joke) laps around the Exton mall in attempt to find something "slavic" looking. (Apparently Chester County hates Eastern Europeans).

Retrieving decorations from the attic, and in the process finding my long lost copy of "So You Want to Be a Star!" by Randi Reisfeld. I intend to devote an entire blog to this soon, but will just give you a passage from the introduction for now:

"I don't think there's a teenager alive who doesn't- secretly or not so secretly- dream of trading one-liners on a TV sitcom with Kirk Cameron, or having an onscreen adventure with Corey Haim, or sharing the rock stage with New Kids on the Block. For some, the dream is vague, like winning the lottery, for others the desire to perform is burning."

I don't know what's better- the run-on sentence at the end there, or the fact that I highlighted key points with purple marker. I am also not ashamed to admit that this is the only book I've ever read more than twice. Okay. I'm a little ashamed.

There was some great candy-making bonding with my mother, probably due to the fact that if you can't work as a team, someone is going to get very, very badly burned.

And speaking of burning, there was a fabulous candle-ignites-paper-towel incident today. Props to my younger sister Emily for calmly walking the flaming mess to the sink. Props to me for fast hands on the sink-sprayer.

Anyways, there were a lot of great moments. I'm pretty grateful to have a family that makes me laugh so much. However, this isn't even the late night realization that prompted me to blog. So now, a little tour of Christmas past...

When I was in sixth grade, my older sister and I were warned that if we peeked at the Christmas presents, my mother would return them all and buy something else. We called her bluff, and did in fact sneak into my parents room and peek at all the presents. I had asked for a stereo, and for whatever reason, a soccer ball. I think I had decided that the only reason I was not athletic was due to a lack of equipment. As it turns out, my mother was not bluffing. She actually did return our presents, including my precious soccer ball.

On Christmas Eve, already wise to the non-existence of Santa, I sat at the top of the stairs waiting to hear my parents finish setting out the presents. I wondered what my new gift was, and feared it was the keyboard my mother saw me playing with at the mall. I had been playing piano and writing songs for fun for a few years now, but I wanted the damn soccer ball. What would I do with a keyboard? I sat nervously and prayed for amnesty.

Then it happened. From the second floor I heard the unmistakable sound of my dad rocking out on a Casio keyboard. I began to cry. I would never be athletic. Never.

--

So, in hindsight, I realize how great a gift the keyboard was. I could play and sing in privacy. I would stay up late and write songs in my room. It's a pretty amazing thing to look back on, and probably a pretty important moment in my life.

I remembered this, tonight, as I was attempting to sleep, thinking about how 2007 is drawing to a close. I really thought I wanted a soccer ball this year. I got a keyboard. At least now I know to trust the system, and be grateful.

I hope everyone had a very happy holiday. Keep a fire extinguisher under the sink, and don't be afraid to use it.

Kate

So, at the moment, I am stranded. I left Philadelphia at 9:30am, and at 7:30pm was stuck in a standstill traffic jam on route 91 in Connecticut. The snow was incredible, and two exits ahead, they shut down the highway. I had also not eaten since I left this morning.

I know my limits, and gave up on driving. That said, I am currently writing this at the Holiday Inn Express in Hartford Connecticut (the last 1/2 mile having taken an additional hour and a half).

Given the fact that I had tons of solitude today, I did a lot of thinking. It would be very easy for me to complain right now- about the weather, and about life in general. But I won't. As crippled as she is at the moment, Kate the optimist is still down there somewhere. I have decided to be grateful.

The weather sucked. The traffic sucked. I am grateful that my dad lent me his car (with traction control)

I am starving. I am grateful that the pizza man is still delivering in this absurd weather. I will tip him obscenely well for his bravery.

I am experiencing the most challenging month of my life, to date. I am grateful for the phone calls of my mother, sister, and best friends.

Being a professional musician is hard. So hard. Ridiculously hard and full of rejection. I am grateful for the people have encouraged me, and to the songs themselves, which always seem to carry me through.

And things I'm just grateful for in general: homemade cookies, fun mail, NPR, pockets, free wifi, new family, old family, candles, lakes, strangers holding the door for me, holding the door for strangers, stationary, not having to go to the laundromat, real pianos, new haircuts, and even though it's bittersweet at the moment, Christmas time at shopping malls.

Happy Holidays (and Holiday Inns)
Kate

Dear Boston,

It's not you, it's me.

It's been an amazing seven years, and as painful as it is to leave you, it's time for me to move on. I was only 18 when we met, and we've both grown up a lot since then. I think we've both seen this coming for a while now, and I've finally decided to take the plunge and pursue music full time.

That's how I came to the decision to leave you. I need a few things you just can't provide: a more central location, cheaper rent (really), and my immediate family. I'm not going due to a lack of support on your part. It's the opposite in fact. You've been amazing. This past January, you showed me I could headline in Boston. You gave me my first sell out. That's how I know that even if I don't live here, I can always come back and play.

So I promise to gig around Boston as much as I ever have. I just need you to promise to keep coming to shows, telling your friends, and listening to my songs. I can't even begin to tell you how scary it is to abandon having a day job. To leave a place I've called home for more than a quarter of my life, so I really need your support.

Sure, we've had our differences. There was that time you stole my keyboard, that terrible "free haircut" and of course, that bar fight. But we've also have some great memories: my first real "gig." My first legal drink (a margarita at the Border after a Passim Campfire Round). The Shawn Colvin Opener. The good old days at the Encore. Discovering Tupelo. The Burren 10/15/05. And most of all, the amazing community of musicians, music fans, and music supporters that I'm proud to have become a part of.

So, don't consider it goodbye. Maybe just a long distance relationship. Yes. That's it. You'll make a great mistress.

Dear Philadelphia,

It's good to come home. I should warn you, you have some big shoes to fill. Now, let's get famous.

Love,

Kate

I am sitting on the couch of a music publisher in Nashville, TN. I can hear from the next room my own voice, in a recording of a song I co-wrote two days ago. I also co-wrote one yesterday, and both songs were recorded into demos today. So, as I sit here, all I can think is "wow."

I have been here for five days (I fly back to Boston in a few hours) and am kind of in awe. I went to a #1 party at BMI (as in, #1 SONG). I met Kathy Mattea yesterday. I watched Melanie hand her my CD. I got to hang out with my best friend from college AND it's been 80 degrees and sunny.

What's been really mind blowing is realizing that I fit in here- a place where I came with the complete expectation of being a fish out of water. I was terrified going into that first co-write (which I can only liken to a blind date) wondering if I was going to be able to hold my own. But I have. The reaction has been great, and I can't wait to come back.

So Boston, don't feel like I'm cheating on you. I know we had that fight and I wrote that angry song after you stole my keyboard. We just have an open relationship now, that's all. And I've been seeing Philadelphia for years.

Sigh. My reign as WERS' artist of the week is over. As glorious as it was, I didn't even hear myself when they were playing my songs each day. (You could argue that I could hear myself as I was singing live in the studio on Friday, and I guess that technically, you'd be right... but why would you pick a fight? And at midnight, no less. You know I can't sleep when we've been arguing...) I digress.

Now that my reign is over, I'd like them to keep playing the album - which is where you come in. You can request me, either online at WERS.org (there's a box on the left side of the page) or by calling 617-482-8890. Catch the live set on Friday? Write them a note and let them know you liked it. This is a grassroots campaign my friends. But more on that later...

Thanks for listening.