alone again, four years later

my voice is slowly returning to normal. during the two nights i spent in new hampshire earlier this week i drank hundreds of gallons of filtered water, and went through at least a dozen bags of herbal tea. i also ate lots of homemade cookies and pie and a third of a tofurky. maybe it all got balanced out, i'm not sure. my voice got scratchier and more painfully pubescent as the night grew later. when the period that free cellphone minutes arrived, and my sweetheart was free to chat, my words were awkward skeletons straining to breathe dusty air.

returning to northampton in the middle of another dubious national holiday yesterday, i marvelled at the deserted streets. i got dropped off at home and didn't leave until well after the sun set and then rose again. i spent a delightful afternoon and evening alone, not straining my voice, doing as i pleased with no agenda to speak of. i grabbed my guitar and then halfway through a song grabbed a book on my bookshelf that caught my eye. i simultaneously strummed a chord and read a quote from an old professor of mine on the psychology of racism. i made tea, baked a pretzel, did whatever i pleased with the bathroom door open. i wore layers and comfortable sat around with the heat off.

i could've spent the day on cape cod with my dad or walked through the streets of plymouth mourning the ongoing genocide of native peoples. but i was content in my solitude, taking care of myself, getting healthy again.

making sense of last week

last week commemorated the births of two people i'm related to and those of countless others, close and distant; along with the death of someone loved by someone i now love, and saw the death of the father of someone i work with.

it officially became cold. tension and conflict permeated the frigid air. miscommunication, straight up insults, threats of lawsuits, ignoring inappropriate friend requests--all commenced as we layered up, armed with mittens, scarfs, and winter hats. is this winter?

last week i was centered, immune to it all. i surprised the surprisers. triumphant, until i began coughing and sniffling. and now today i found myself making your lunch with gloves, my nose dripping, my vocal chords unable to articulate the words transmitted from my brain. we were all damaged in our own special way, but i left early and haven't left home since.

survive

sitting together in anticipation, we slowly flip the next page of the calendar: survive. the crows stand defiantly in the puddles, staring up at the emerging sun as it begins to drown out the ominous storm clouds surrounding them. the prospects of a new year are like those beams of light radiating from the sun. it's still raining on us. our feet are wet. but soon the tunnels will recede and everything will be fresh, new and, most importantly, close. we are invincible.

dreaming of insomniacs

shake me out of my comfort zone. feed my brain with seeds of a new world. there's too much at stake right now to sit on our asses watching romantic comedies. give me your words and i'll turn it into a song. join me at the grand opening of the corporate clothing store on main street and help me hand out molotov cocktail-shaped candies to teenage consumers. bring the wheat paste recipe tonight and we'll cover the town with our maps of picnic tables. meet me at my favorite one, where we'll conduct interviews at 12:30 am. the day after tomorrow is today.

we're all presidents: election night part two

we had already bounced all over downtown, but we needed a change of scenery. we needed a better setting to witness the big speech. i'm sure for some it was exhausting, but i really appreciated how on that night the only thing on people's lips was politics. it was a glimpse of what it's like in countries with a richer, more informed year round political culture. a contagious sense of participation and purpose permeated the streets, workplaces, schools, bars, and cafes--in northampton and all across the country.

we briskly walked across town as hundreds of thousands of chicagoans eagerly awaited the historic speech in grant park. when we arrived at the backroom of packards to an enthusastic crowd that had graciously saved us a seat to view the big screen tv on the wall. minutes later obama began his speech. despite my mixed, even ambivalent feelings about his victory i have to admit to being moved in that moment.

returning to the warm november night outside, honking cars and screams of joys came from all directions. i decided to embrace it by borrowing a guitar from a kid sitting on main street across from city hall. i belted out the only song that made sense:

we're all presidents. we're all congressmen. we're all cops in waiting. we're the workers of the world. there is the elite and the dispossessed. and it's only about survival. who has skill to play the game for all it's worth. and reach an obscure kind of perfection.

just before we reached the point in the song where the guitar drops out and handclaps take over, a police officer walked up to us and asked if i had a permit. he commanded me to stop playing. after he left, we resumed singing with handclaps:

and we rock. because it's us against them. we found our own reasons to sing...

we continued to sing other songs and keep the handclaps going as we walked to the dance party. the small crowd outside the basement was quietly smoking cigarettes when we showed up, still singing. but inside it was an epic celebration. we danced as hard as we could to "you can get it if you really want" and "let me clear my throat." when the ceo of the iron horse entertainment group, the owner of this building we danced in, arrived i had a thought that he might not be as excited as the rest of us.

if president obama does, as he promised on the campaign trail, to roll back bush's tax cuts for the wealthy this may negatively impact small-town capitalist eric suher. feeling fiesty, i approached him after using the bathroom to express my condolences for this potential threat to his assets. "what?!" he replied, caught off guard. "i said, i'm sorry to hear that you may lose your tax break under the new president." grumbling something inaudible beneath the booming dance beats, he was visibly angered. i smiled and just danced away.

we left a little early only to discover a smaller, but just as spirited dance party on the street. "groove is in the heart" played from a boombox as passerby smiled and cheered, some joining us. "what is love" began and we walked into the night, embracing the potential of a new future.

spinning on that dizzy edge

last night was fun. in places like west philly, detroit, new orleans, harlem, and obviously chicago a collective bonfire of joy spread into the streets, triumphantly raging into the wee hours. in northampton it was more like an organic scented candle of relief, but we made the most of it.

as the returns came in and john mccain prepared his concession speech, we ran down the street for some live karaoke. i decided earlier that i had to sing. it had just been too long. after the band's intermission was over i chose a song from the piles of lyric sheets strewn across the bar. "surrender" by cheap trick--an appropriate lullaby for the arizona senator as his supporters, that angry sea of white in phoenix, booed obama's name.

"we played that one earlier," the guitarist informed me. "sorry."

someone else came up and sang a beatles song. i came back up with my second choice: "say it ain't so" by weezer. again for mr. mccain. but again, a song they had already played during their first set. crazy, no? so finally i chose a more celebratory tune that was a non-repeat: "just like heaven," by the cure. as i sung from the stage with this live band i thought less about the election results and more about the person i missed so much who was celebrating three states away:

show me how you do that trick. the one that makes me scream, she said. the one that makes me laugh, she said. and threw her arms around my neck. show me how you do it. and i promise you. i promise that i'll run away with you. i'll run away with you.

my performance was followed by hotel california, replete with wanking guitar solos, as the number of people smoking cigarettes outside outnumbered those watching the music. it was clearly time to move on and to witness history.

we can all fly

let's create soundtracks to this moment. an amalgamation of your most meaningful songs of fall with mine. we'll break into that beautiful abandoned church and play these songs from the rusty boombox we found on the street, singing along at the top of our lungs. this is our last chance to not get caught.

i hope to learn more about the pronunciation of rivers, the best bicycle routes, and secret cupcake shops. and i know that you'll expertly teach me all of it. we will learn more together. we'll lay in the park, protected by the most ferocious of guard dogs, excavating the sky for cloud bunnies and horses. they all look like horses.

i close my eyes and we are rolling around in the snow, smiles ear to ear. it's cold, but we're not.

chinatown bus & craigslist rideshare

exactly 9 hours after leaving philly i return to my home in northampton. as always, the trip was completely worth it. and despite the absurd amount of time spent enroute it was so much less stressful and traumatic (emotionally and financially) than the last time.

we were kurt and courtney for halloween. my voice was shot from singing along to every word of the misfits and minor threat (and some jawbreaker) cover bands in that west philly basement. i saw people from bard, northampton and other areas of my life as the universe shrunk just a little more. with some of them, i was too uncomfortable to say hello with my costume so i sort of avoided them. eventually, i felt confident enough being "the girl with most cake" and greeted dan berger, explaining who i was underneath the hot mess before we hugged and caught up. being there was important. it made me realize that there's a really vibrant community there that i can be a part of if i want. that i can sing-along with and maybe collaborate in all kinds of other ways.

the rest of the visit was pretty magical and i'm excited about january. congrats to lv for getting a job! everything is so ripe for potential right now. eating apple cobbler and drinking cider i think, exhale, and realize how lucky i am.

the election and baseball in philadelphia or, the politics of excitement

waking up this morning in west philadelphia, i lay in bed singing: i remember halloween, this day anything goes...happy halloween everybody. there's a really special urgency enveloping this city with the phillies winning the world series the night i arrived (celebratory riots unsuing), the subsequent victory parade occupying center city as i write this, inumberable halloween parties, shows, and haunted houses later this evening, and of course the looming presidential election that has brought pennsylvania into the spotlight as a so-called swing state. folks here are on the pulse of it all, spinning the wheel of history during this exciting moment.

even though it is a really special time to be here, i feel alienated from a lot of it. these four nights will be my longest visit to the city of "brotherly love" so i am very much so a mere visitor, an outsider. but i am flirting with relocating here in the very near future. maybe this weekend is my proper initiation?

i am excited for phillies fans, but i can't sincerely express that same excitement myself since i didn't even follow the series at all. maybe next year i will study up on the team and attempt to become a fan--except during interleague play against the red sox. i kind of feel the same way about the election and specifically the obama campaign. i don't want john mccain to be president, just as i didn't want the tampa bay rays (who beat the sox in the acls) to be the world champs. but i don't share the passion for obama and his politics that a lot of folks here, and across the nation, have been catalyzed by. i will be excited for them when he is elected (presumably in a landslide, depending on how much funny business the republican machine deploys) next week, but i will not be sincerely excited about his victory, just relieved.

i think we all deserve something more: collective liberation, a fundamentally new society, not just a new commander-in-chief with a gentler vision of empire. i will be more excited by the work people are doing toward actualizing the former than an election that will be over in 4 days. this work will persist well beyond november 4th. of course, i recognize that some of the policies of a new democratic administration will have real, positive impacts on lives across the world. but i still think we need to dream of a an even bigger change. to: "be realistic. demand the impossible."

a different kind of foliage: disaster and resistance

when i was in college, the activist lending library had a copy of seth tobocman's classic book you don't have to fuck people over to survive. that was my first introduction to this legendary nyc-based political artist who founded the still-vital publication world war 3 illustrated. during my junior year i went down to brooklyn with my roommate jon for the release party of tobocman's latest book portraits of israelis and palestinians. his unique political art has always taken on the most pressing issues of the day with an often devasting honesty.

so with all of this respect i have for him and his work, i was excited to see that he would be visiting the pioneer valley this month with the release of his newest book disaster and resistance: comics and landscapes for the 21st century (ak press). i was even more excited when erika from food for thought books e-mailed me about having seth on my radio show the day before the event! touring with his nyc friends, erik blitz and steve wishnia who play drums and bass while seth performs pieces from his books, they had a couple events in holyoke over the weekend with local artist and fellow world war 3 editor rebecca migdal at paper city studios.

on monday morning, after my interview on parapolitics with tommi avicolli mecca was aired, the whole crew squeezed into the cozy valley free radio studio. i was a little anxious about having live music on my show since it would be the first time, but it went really well. rebecca performed a piece about indigenous struggles in belize based on her recent trip there. seth followed with his account of the resistance in new orleans' lower ninth ward following hurricane katrina. the last half of the the show featured a conversation with all of them about these issues, and the challenge of artisits and activists following their passions under capitalism. they followed me over to the cafe where i work afterwards for a less formal discussion.

it was great to see the performances accompanied by visuals last night at food for thought. i wish i had gotten their a little earlier to participate in the stencil-making workshop for youth, but i had still had a really great time. it was one of those events that left me feeling inspired and connected to something bigger--a global movement of people dedicated to changing the world.

a different kind of foliage: avanti popolo

this past weekend was declared to be the peak of the fall foliage in western massachusetts. the weather was perfect, hiking trails amidst the radiantly changing leaves were over-crowded beyond capacity. i didn't get to fully appreciate and participate in all of this as much as i would've like to, but the past week has seen a different, aseasonal sort of vibrancy.

last tuesday i conducted a phone interview at vfr, along with parapolitics co-host keely malone, with san francisco's tommi avicolli mecca, co-editor of the new anthology avanti popolo: italian-american writers sail beyond columbus. tommi talked about the importance of italian-americans to reclaim their history and heritage by rejecting the genocidal legacy of columbus in favor of more admirable italian-americans such as anarchist martyrs nicola sacco and bartolomeo vanzetti. "i prefer to call this holiday sacco and vanzetti day." tommi also talked about coming out as queer--live on televsion(!)--when he was an undergrad at temple university in the 1970's and the backlash he endured from his conservative family. that story was told after he read one his poems featured in the book about his father.

on monday, as some americans celebrated "columbus day" we broadcasted this interview. that evening there were 3 events nationwide--in san francisco, new york, and philadelphia--celebrating the release of avanti popolo, with contributing writers from each city performing pieces from the book, published by manic d press. i want to thank my friend james tracy, another contributor and co-editor of the book, for contacting me about making this happen. dump columbus!

leaving empty lives

"The truth is that I don't necessarily want things to get easier, because things that are easy also tend to be safe and boring." -Give Me Back zine, issue #4

i open my eyes and it's fall of '99 all over again. my body is propelled out of bed with ease, in unison with the sunrise on barely 5 hours of sleep. a couple days worth of clothing, a toothbrush, zines, a book, my walkman, and some mixtapes are all packed and ready to go for the absurd journey ahead. prophetic lines are sung to me in my headphones, the soundtrack to this moment recreating itself 9 years later:

i need a way to measure the distance/my fury's rising faster than bus-fares

wake up and pack your bag/to whom it may concern/there's a bus that's leaving half an hour from now/it won't take her where she really wants to go/so she sits there with her luggage at her side/leaving empty stations, leaving empty lives

there's no question that it was worth it, despite everything. i dream of timelines, maps, completed to-do lists with love notes on the back. the pros and cons of starting over, of beginning a new life bounce back and forth like a frantic ping pong match. right now, everything seems to be pointing to: yes. a new year holds the promise of new possibilities. and this is scary. but i'm more scared of staying safe. safe and bored.

reclamation

the windows in my bedroom are finally closed so i can hear the tick/tock of the clock that i forgot about over the hum of traffic. the calendar has been turned once again and now the word reclaim hangs above my head. everything is really coming together right now as my life begins to shift in new, exciting directions. the urgency of fall has arrived. i take on the weight of the elements fearlessly, even if i can only find left-handed gloves in my ghastly overflowing closet.

i want to be present for all the people in my life that are dealing with heavy shit right now...and that seems to be nearly everyone i'm close to. i'm here. fueled by the strength of autumn.

promise

i realized the other day that i hadn't even thought about the fact that the summer is over and i'm not going back to school. that first september after college was so strange and significant after 17 years in a row of institutional learning. 5 years later now, it doesn't even cross my mind. i'm excited for all of my friends who are back in school to pursue their dreams, but going to continuing on the path of "higher education" just doesn't make sense to me; at least not right now. it would just be something to do. but there are so many other things that i would rather being doing!

since i turned the page on my bedroom calendar and the word of the month changed from ambush to promise it has seemed like the pace of time has been fundamentally altered. i wake up before 9 am, but just lay there listening to news radio. there's no urgency to get out of bed like there was just a couple weeks ago. this morning i listened to awkward tributes to the victims of the 9-11 attacks 7 years ago and thought about how incredible the weather always is this week. and it is. but the irresistable force of summer adventure has seemed to have slipped through my fingers these past couple weeks. bike rides are just not the same. i don't feel invincible anymore. but the last thing i want to do is live in the past or be held captive by some potential future. for the the immediacy of the summer was all about living in the present moment, not obsessing over fears, and just going for it.

writing down the late-summer bones

the growing piles of books, zines, and overdue bills are threatening to crush me as i attempt to write again. the sheets from both beds in my room are in the dryer downstairs, dirty clothes strewn across the floor. the breeders on the stereo. i've returned to pre-summer stoicism as i breathe in change with each late-summer breath of air. i embrace change as a defense mechanism. change is exciting, both in the shifting trivialities of daily life and the potential of large scale social change--the new society beating in all of our hearts. but change is also really fucking scary. we have to numb ourselves sometimes.

i watch videos of the street protests happening in denver and st. paul against the major u.s. political parties and their conventional spectacles. four years ago i was in new york city during the republican national convention, participating in the critical mass bike ride with over 10,000 others. the idea of going to the twin cities this year was never an option. it's not desirable to me anymore to travel such distances for political uprisings. of course, i'm in solidarity with the actions going on this week and also in denver last week. i guess i'm just not a 20 year old student activist anymore. working toward the creation of alternatives is more appealing to me at this point than following around the global elite in dissent. i'm grateful for those who do. it's just not where i'm at right now.

the sort of change that is in the air here, in this peculiar valley of ours, binds us all together. flights leave for seattle and berlin, while others return from reno and oakland. we commiserate about the return of the students. we celebrate the return of better live music and the approaching beauty of autumn. change is in our water supply. it's in the first leaves to change color and fall to the ground. we commiserate and celebrate.

the enormity of cupcakes and bunnies

some experiences are just too big, too powerful to reduce to the limitations of the written word. this is partially why i haven't written much lately. everything has just been so intense, so otherworldly, so big. language could never do this moment justice.

the moment ended less than an hour ago with a bus station goodbye straight out of the most heart-wrenching 80's movie ever produced. but there are no goodbyes, only see-you-laters. an ending opens up into a new beginning. just the beginning of something even more magical, something even bigger.

i bet most of the people you know enjoy busrides

in southern new hampshire it got cold after the sunset. cold in a way that i haven't felt in months, that first sensation that the summer has begun to recede. the days getting shorter, the fall looming in the near future. i learned that there are two kinds of people in this world: those that enjoy busrides and those who don't. burn collector #13 entertained me on the ride home this afternoon, after the anxiety produced by the greyhound being 45 minutes late. al burians tales of travel misadventures in germany, after a much-feared family reunion there, made me like i had gone through more than the 90 minute ride from keene to northampton. there was the brief stop in greenfield in which i got off the bus to hand my brother an envelope only to get right back on, but it wasn't that eventful beyond that sketchy act. now, i'm happy to be home. ready for another adventurous weekend after a nice contemplative get away.

complete control

woke up this morning craving the clash, knowing it would be a good day. it was a gut feeling. now i have this nice block of time to be alone in my bedroom, to confront the things i have been avoiding for weeks, months, years. laundry drying downstairs, the clash on my turntable. i put a new E string on my neglected guitar and it wasn't even on my to-do list. my arms and fingers just made it happen, as if it was a physical need like drinking water or defacating. this summer needs music! i flip the record over for the third time and anticipate a fun night ahead.

saturday night theater

tonight we celebrated the 3 year birthday of valley free radio. it was this week 3 years ago that the station went on the air during the grassroots radio conference and barnraising facilitated by the prometheus radio project. we sat along the canal in holyoke squinting our eyes, pretending we were in venice for a night. veggie meatballs and frozen cream puffs on the grille. tomorrow is a performance of the taming of the shrew at heather's farm in the berkshire's, featuring a number of evolution characters, blueberry-picking-brunch, and the cafe will be closed to accomodate the show. another anniversary was passed recently, that being my one year working there. honestly, i never thought it would last this long. i'd like to find something new before the year's end but it is so comfortable and mindless. but on the downside...it's so comfortable and mindless. i receive e-mails about ak press hiring again and i fantasize about the bay area. but really, all i can think about is west philly. drool, drool...

in my secret place

i want to take you far from the cynics in this town and kiss you on the mouth...

the sappiest indie-pop songs make so much sense right now, like they're in synch with the pulse in my left wrist. really, i'm just happy that my bike was where i left it last night after the rain began. it's always a gamble leaving it downtown after sunset. my heart skipped a beat as i turned that corner only to find it leaning against the street sign, a little wet but still fully alive. abandoned but forgiving, ready to ride again. it's gonna be a good day. i can feel it.