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5:44
am. Blog time. Pitch black in woodsville and my cats are confused.
If I let them out this early they’ll find mice/ coyote find cat.
It’s been a long hot summer. It hasn’t, but I’m getting back into the
‘this is my blog I get to say what I want’ mode. Summer actually flew.
Went to loads of weddings this summer. Summerlove in fact long
lasting/ Oli’s had the best cake frosting. I’ve learned that I’m a
wedding crier. It used to be those mastercard commercials and now it’s
weddings. The walk down the aisle, the speeches, toasts – I am no
longer safe. Tears upon tears. So much love. And I’m supposed to be
writing a record. Dare I let my summer into my song?
The first night I got up here to my little creative hideaway, I heard
the slaughter of what I think was a rabbit. Ten minutes of horrid
squealing. Coyote won. Not a good sign. Yesterday I caught one of
my cats scraping my new song sheet music, that I’d left on the floor,
and settling in for a good pee. Not a good sign.
Seriously though, it’s record writing time again and songs are coming.
I’m not one to write on tour, so it’s a funny task to sit down and say
‘ write… write now’. It doesn’t work. Or rather, it gets you writing,
but not necessarily anything that should ever see the light of day.
So, I run down the mountain (that’s how I got ‘elephants’ – don’t
worry – no more animal songs, only animal blogs), watch dvds (sex and
the city – 2nd
time through the whole series), venture to town (when I’m not feeling
agoraphobic), read books, watch the news and finally bed by 8pm. 987
unanswered emails haunt me daily through all of this and I’m getting
old enough to know that I am just not a multitasker if writing is on
the docket. Dwindling friendships hang in the air because of this and I
fear most folk assume I’m roaming sunset blvd at fancy parties and
hipster bars. I’m not. I’m biting my nails and staring at trees.
Image be gone I’ve said too much.
I hate the phone. I haatttteee the phone. My cell phone died three
days ago and I have no desire to get a new one. I mistakenly dropped
it out a 5 story window and it still survived, but thankfully it’s now
dead. I fear the phone. I cannot even order take out. Seriously,
someone else has to do it. I can tweet, but no take out eat. I fear
the ‘mean’ stranger at the other end. Ridiculous, but true. Something
about stranger anger that really gets me. A few weeks ago I was
driving and someone yelled out ‘asshole’ as I was going through a stop
sign. For the blog record – I got there first, it was my turn to go.
I almost drove after the guy to get closure. Not road rage. More
like road depression. Let’s make up now so this doesn’t haunt me in
the middle of the night stuck in the woods and surrounded by coyotes.
Back to the music, I’m loving the new Bat for Lashes record as well as
Regina Spektor’s. Regina has a song about god that I would’ve traded a
cat to have written. I’m watching Salem Witch trial specials and
wondering if I could write something as compelling about the Puritans.
And that’s the news from this end. I wish I could hint to you more
about my own next record, but so far it runs the gamet from a rap about
trinkets to a poem about healthcare. A toast to all who are in love,
and maybe a tear – hooray for the lightest of blogs in a world overcome
with fear. Keep loving your cats, keep eating your cake, and come out
with a record – whatever it takes.
Xoxoxo
R
5:31 PM
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