music & work, revisited

three years ago, i found myself in tuscaloosa, alabama. i had spent the better part of the previous four months travelling with my zine about music and work. my dear friends dave and jo were both teaching anthropology at the university of alabama and were able to set me up with a number of events on campus. these workshops created space for students to share their experiences working in the service industry and the music that made those jobs either more tolerable or, often, even more insufferable. it truly was a space to honestly share our experiences about life under capitalism.

fast forward to fall 2018. a local artist here in philly tracked me down after learning about the music & work project and my zine. she is collaborating with a UK-based artist/composer to explore the songs that workers in philadelphia listen to while selling our labor to survive. the research will culminate in a chorus of whistlers performing an original composition next spring. this is a nod to how workers historically would whistle songs of solidarity together in the workplace. and they would get away with it since the boss was unaware of the political lyrics.

so we were able to connect wednesday night and talk about these questions of music and work. we could've talked for hours, sitting on that bench in rittenhouse square. but then at 6:00 the church bells rang and we walked across the street to the philadelphia ethical society for, appropriately, a panel discussion on philadelphia labor history. 

i'm excited to engage in these ideas again and to be inspired to keep writing and listening and working. 

you don't hate mondays

the worst thing about daylight savings is that it will be dark when we get out of work. on this gloomy, rainy monday i'm dreading the transition into night, into darkness. of witnessing this shift from my desk, through the window of the office building. like some greater force prematurely turning the light switch off on us. and in doing so, extinguishing the possibilities beyond wage labor that we have all taken for granted since april.

but i don't hate daylight savings. i hate capitalism.

on friday night my dear friend nazia shared a preview of her brilliant new book on islamophobia and the paralyzing limitations of liberalism. in a small west philly apartment this group of organizers and educators met to share food and drink, radical inspiration and solidarity. these abolitionist salons will help keep us all sustained in this increasingly dark political moment. i feel so privilege to be part of it.

i also took a last-minute trip to baltimore this weekend. red emma's--the radical bookstore/restaurant/bar/cafe/community center--recently re-opened in an even larger space than their previously location on north ave. i took a bus down from philly primarily to check it out and i'm so glad i did--especially since the new location is just a 5 minute walk from the bolt bus stop. plus i got a one dollar return ticket!

i really could've spent the entire weekend just at red emma's: coffee/books/vegetarian food/coffee/books/beer...repeat. the entire street level is completely dedicated to the food and drinks side of things and the subterranean floor is where the bookstore and event space is located. i ended up buying the new 33 1/3 book there about the raincoats' self-titled album which i can't wait to read.

it was also just really nice to further connect with new and old friends. over beers at red emma's bar and then delicious homemade burritos across town and finally at the weirdest (and extremely fun) karaoke bar i have ever experienced in my life.

my one dollar bus was late sunday morning, but i didn't even care. it felt good to have a mini-adventure and also feel the bright autumn sun on my face before returning to the darkness of mondays and cubicles. 

hello, old friend

in november people inspire each other to write words. the temperature has dropped and the collective introspection arrives alongside post-halloween hangovers and the political anxiety of yet another electoral spectacle choking the air we breathe. our imaginations are hungry. they have become lonely. and so we write.

i'm not writing a novel, but i'm back here just before the end of this strange year. who would have thought when i started this blog in a public library in madison, wisconsin nearly 14 years ago that i would be sitting here today in a dystopian future. i'm here on the 14th floor of a corporate office building in philadelphia covering the front desk for the receptionist's lunch break. the florescent lights drain the life from my eyeballs as the hum from the air vents vibrate the dropped ceiling tiles above my head. i stare at this screen and think to myself: "how did i end up here?"

hello, old blog/friend.

yesterday i listened to every misfits song i memorized by heart in my youth. i even got a chance to sing one to a room of drunk strangers. strategically moving the cordless mic a full foot from my mouth, i passionately shared with them how much i NEEDED their skulls.

earlier in the evening, i found myself at the anarchist bookstore where i have been coordinating events for nearly a full decade of my life. even though i was by far the oldest person in the space (besides a set of parents) i still felt like one of the kids at the halloween show. after a black and white screening of a live cramps gig from the 1980s, local riot grrrl band cherri col@ charmed us with an acoustic set replete with covers by the ramones, lady gaga, and the rocky horror picture show soundtrack. afterwards i turned all the lights back on, turned up my (real) misfits playlist, and started putting the chairs back in the basement.

as the kids lingered around, the dad of the band's drummer came up to the counter and told me i was being way too nice--noticing that i clearly was ready to lock up and get on with the rest of my night. eventually i did interrupt a photo shoot in the back to say that i was just about to close up the shop. i hope their night was almost as much fun as mine. hopefully they will all...remember halloween. 

another new years (backwards/forwards)

2017 (backwards)

this year began with moments of personal irresponsibility and the looming specter of trvmpism. new years was followed by the black friday of bad decisions as we all awaited the inauguration (protest) later that month. 2017 started messy and has had its share of regressive moments since then. but it has also been the year of growing up, of truly taking seriously concepts like accountability and solidarity.

it was important to get together with like-minded people to help make sense of the dumpster fire our country is further descending into. a couple friends started a reading group last winter that morphed into an affinity group. we cancelled our discussion the day of the airport protests to join in against the racist muslim ban at the philly airport. we kept reading and discussing a radical politics that aims beyond dogmatic sectarianism to carve out a space between the dead-ends of liberalism and nihilistic anarchism. we spent april scheming for may day and then marched alongside undocumented activists with juntos from south philly to city hall. we never got around doing our collaborative writing project, a manifesto of sorts, but there is still potential moving forward as we take seriously the challenge of anti-fascist organizing in the 21st century.

one of the personal low-lights of the year for me was getting hit by a car biking to work on the second day of march. it could've been a lot worse though. i was saved by the kindness of so-called strangers that lies dormant under the everyday pressures of late capitalism; only to flow like lava in moments that truly matter. and i finally have health insurance--something i did not have access to at the beginning of last year. by the end of the month i was biking again and even got the driver's insurance company to cover my bike tune-up with a bunch of new parts to boot. i was reminded of how lucky i was later in the year when a young woman was struck and killed by a private garbage truck while biking to work in center city. i was sick that week, otherwise i would've come out the next day to help form a human protected bike lane at 11th & spruce in her honor and in solidarity for all those who have been killed while biking. and that week the city repainted the bike lane. we need more than that though. i'm thankful for all the people organizing to make the streets safer for those of us who get around on two wheels.

in 2017 i got to see a lot of live music which i am also grateful for. in these dark times, there will still be singing. some of my favorite bands came through philly and these experiences of transcendence beyond whatever-the-fuck the president tweeted that day and beyond the mundane realities of the corporate office space really helped me get through the year. highlights included: against me!, propagandhi, downtown boys, pile, the proletariat, the mountain goats, and hurray for the riff raff.

i did spend 40 hours nearly every week in that office this year. working in the file room allowed me to see those live shows, to have access to health care, and to feed myself. but it is not a long-term sustainable situation, spiritually-speaking. my two year anniversary on the job is coming up in a couple months and i don't want to be there much longer than that.

so what awaits the future then?


2018 (forwards)

i need a change. the most obvious and responsible direction for me would be to dedicate myself to looking for and applying to more meaningful jobs "in my field." but that, honestly, still feels so impossible and out of reach. i'm not opposed to it, it's just that nothing out there work-wise is an end goal of desirability to me. the only potential future life change that excites me is going back to school. but not into traditional academia--fuck that. i have no interest in studying for the gre's and entering into that cut-throat culture that so many of my friends are either drowning in or have jumped ship from altogether. going back to school for me would mean being in the pioneering class of goddard college's phd program. after many years--and collaboration between faculty, students, and alums--the program's proposal has been approved by the college and is now awaiting external accreditation. they are aiming to accept applications this coming spring to begin fall 2018. that way i could work and try to save a little between now and the summer and then i would be back to vermont in august, ready to dive back into research and transformation. can't wait to say goodbye to office life forever!

i have said this every new years i've been in philly, but 2018 will be the year i start playing music again. phil and i talked about dedicating one night each week to it. i want to play bass and sing and maybe some acoustic guitar and drums. i want to learn and write and record songs. i want to play live again. i'm no longer content just being a spectator, a consumer of other people's music. i'm ready to go beyond karaoke and create again.

and 2018 will be about further taking seriously those themes of accountability and solidarity, of embedding them into my life even deeper. i still have so much to understand about how the white supremacist capitalist patriarchy has fucked me up. And now is the time to really do the work, alongside comrades and accomplices, to dismantle these destructive systems together.

this will be the year. i can feel it.

strange holiday // sunny solitude

thirteen years later, here i am--all alone on this strange holiday. alone, for now. this is what solitude looks like: it's reflective, conscious, and healthy. i'm sweeping my bedroom floor, doing laundry, and thinking about the future--all while remaining contemplative, focused on the present, on the gift of this sun-filled november day. this is refuge from the daily cycle of over-stimulation, work, and consumption. i am awake and alive. my mind is clear.

i think about all those years i drove to plymouth to march on cole's hill, against systemic amnesia and legacies of genocide and erasure. today i am not merely complacent to bask in the mediocrity of two paid vacation days, brain turned off in obedience to a four-day weekend granted by our corporate overlords. but it is nice. you could even say i'm thankful. i guess i'm somewhere in between those two points. after all, it was the militant labor movements of last century that produced such opportunities...for some.

*

this is a strange moment. i find myself retracing all these life decisions, many of which i now see as unhealthy and destructive, like revisiting the ghosts from christmas past. i'm confronted by the revelation/reminder that i was never immune to the patriarchal conditioning of the dominant culture--the ways in which boys are empowered from the very beginning with the lure of endless possibilities while girls are instructed to wear pink or suffer the consequences. how we are all disciplined to never deviate from those rigid paths assigned to us, or else. and none of this is new for me, it's just that i have become viscerally aware of the ways in which i have perpetuated these structures and how my own desires continue to be colonized by rape culture and gender oppression. oof. but i'm not paralyzed by this despite its dark heaviness. i feel committed to further challenging myself and others in my life, together.

*

and i also need to find a new home soon. as i approach my 9th anniversary in phladelphia i remain open to moving away, starting over somewhere else. i could move a few blocks down the street in west philly or completely reinvent my world. either way, i want to try to live my best life and be more conscious of what that means to me as i get older.

this is what i'm thinking about on this strange holiday, with this sunny solitude.

when everything opens up

summertime brain fog give way to cool air inspiration and clarity. wake up and take a deep breath. inhale the freshness, exhale your unhealthy habits. delete and disable. wash it all off your body parts. go outside. in the park you discover old friends and new possibilities. compare notes. conspire toward something better. regional differences transcended by that thing that continues to connect us all, beyond internet service and hourly wages. our shared stories are bigger than we can even begin to understand. this meal we share, these soft clouds above us--this is everything. 

delete and disable. connect and expand. conspire and evolve...

living the dream

in the sterile office reality, she responds to the benign greeting, how's it going? with the sarcastic retort: living the dream.

living the dream?

it's clever because the person speaking those three words is absolutely not experiencing her life in that way. so, we all chuckle and sigh. yes, aren't we all just living the dream under these florescent lights, breathing in the conditioned air of the 14th floor hahaha...

it's cynical because we don't even know what it would look like to truly live the dream. we just know it surely is not this. the dream of our collective imagination exists far beyond this office building...somewhere. right?

for now, we laugh and then cry as we wake up to this banal nightmare.

it's the end of a fucked up a year...

one year ago, in the final moments of 2015, a dog bit my leg. it was about an hour before midnight and i was just about to leave a new year's party in my neighborhood. the host's dog had been staring at me as i grazed from the snack table. when i placed the last bite of tortilla chip in my mouth it approached me and proceeded to dig into my lower thigh with its mouth.

luckily, the bite wasn't serious. it did poke a tooth-sized hole in my favorite pants and slightly break my skin, but it didn't disrupt my night beyond having to treat the small wound in the bathroom with a bandaid and neosporin before heading back out into the world.

still, the dog bite was a metaphor for things to come--and also a reflection of the state of my life at the end of last year. after traveling across the country on zine tour for the second half of 2015, i found myself back in philadelphia broke, unemployed, and my body breaking down with no access to health insurance.

as i drunkenly walked to the next party before the clock struck midnight, i sang this dead kennedys song on the street, creating a soundtrack to the moment:

dog bite 
on my leg 
not right 
supposed to beg..
oh
oh
oh

the night was redeemed with good friends and a rooftop view of the citywide fireworks show. and that's how 2016 began...

* * *

eventually, i found a job. in early february, i found myself sitting in a office meeting room  on the 14th floor of a skyscraper downtown. i sat across the table from the hr rep who looking down at my resume said: it looks like you have a lot of interesting experience here. you're a writer...what makes you want to join corporate america?

that question lingered in the room like a toxic fart after he left to summon the manager of records management. i gazed out the window toward the peco building in the west. jello biafra's voice rang in my ears as i navigated the existential dread of survival under late capitalism. was i about to become a "terminal preppie"? my future boss eventually arrived and turned out to be someone i could easily chat with about music and politics and made me feel a little better about the potential situation.

a few weeks later, i still hadn't heard anything back about the job. the day after i decided to give up and make plans to stay with family and write, i woke up to the phone ringing. the voicemail congratulated me and offered me the position of document specialist for the company's filing room.

i was disappointed. what about my winter writing retreat? but then i reminded myself how important it was to start paying rent again and, you know, get my shit together.

8 months later, i'm still working full-time there. i still have health insurance and the means to feed myself. it's not my dream job, but it's good enough for now.

* * *

in april, phil had a going away party the week before he was planning on moving to chicago. he invited some friends to read under the suggested theme "arrivals and departures." the first thing to come to my mind to share was one of my favorite mischief brew songs, departure arrival. i started reading an old essay about work and capitalism and then interrupted myself:

"this doesn't feel right," i confessed into the microphone at tattooed mom's. "i think we need some music."

i started a beat, snapping with my fingers, that the rest of the crowd quickly joined as i sang:

you know i never could fall asleep on a train 
all the time dreaming about moving away...
if i ever fall asleep i remember my dream 
where everybody's there and nobody leaves

a few days later, becca and i met up with phil for one last hang--just like the old days when we all worked together at red hook. before becca arrived phil told me that since the reading/party he had given it a lot of thought and decided not to move away.

* * *

three months later, i got to see mischief brew play at the trocadero. they opened for one of erik's favorite bands from his teenage punk years. culture shock was the band in between subhumans (uk) and citizen fish and had embarked on their first tour in almost 2 decades in support of their new album attention span.

alison and i got there right before mischief brew's set began and sang along and danced a little to all their songs. culture shock played next and we cheered on erik as he joined them toward the end of their set to sing their classic anthem civilisation street. it was a beautiful and joyous moment seeing him up their with his punk rock idol dick lucas. a couple songs later, he emerged from backstage and stopped to say hi as he made his way through the crowd. he gave me a sweaty hug as i yelled over the music, "what a dream come true!"

that was the last time i saw erik. mischief brew was scheduled to play at philamoca the following sunday before leaving for a european tour. i texted thom the day before asking if he was going. he responded with a phone call explaining that erik had gone missing.

my heart sunk.

on friday july 16th, we learned that erik was dead. it was a devastating loss, not just for those of us who were lucky enough to call him a friend, but for the thousands of mischief brew fans all over the world, whose lives were forever transformed by erik's music.

i couldn't help but return to departure arrival: "may your songs never get stuck out of my head."

* * *

in december, i found myself in upper darby where erik's wife denise was hosting the 17th annual fistolo solstice party. they invited me back in 2003 after i met them and stayed at their house on a road trip that fall. i couldn't make it that year or any of the years since i moved to philly. it felt really important to be there this year with so many of denise's other friends that have been there for her over the past 5 months since losing erik.

as i was leaving, some people were putting together a gingerbread house decorated with icing that spelled: FUCK 2016

later on, they brought it outside into the cold and foggy december night and blew it up with fireworks.

* * *

goodbye, 2016. here's to a new year of struggle and resilience. 💗

fully-clothed in a west philly coffeeshop

sitting in the same seat at the same cafe where i first began to fantasize about grad school...7 years later. now i live in the neighborhood again and even though i finished my grad program over 2 years ago my life isn't all that different than that day i sat here doing that initial research. and that reality may seem grim, but it also means anything is possible, despite the overarching uncertainty of what lies ahead. 

* * *

i wasn't able to make it to the naked bike ride those first couple years living in philly. it started when i first moved here and after i left this neighborhood--along with the relationship i moved here for--i was finally able to participate. in reality, it's more like a scantily-clad critical mass ride: that uniquely liberating experience of taking over an entire city with thousands of other people on bikes. it's one of the freest moments i've had in my life. 

i went two years in a row, sporting my pink undies and faded red sunglasses. since then i have been out of town, visiting friends and family in massachusetts that particular week. but yesterday i was here, in philly, and just decided not to go. partially because it has just been too fucking hot. but also since i wanted to go to a reading that my friend denise invited me to. i've only seen her once since erik died so it seemed important. and it was. so i definitely made the right decision, but seeing photos today of all those semi-naked joyful cyclists taking the streets back from cars made me wistful. 

maybe next year?  

back to...and everyone's the same

last event

last word

last city,

no show.

the ink spills out of my pen

all over my phone

and my journal.

and now 

there are ants.

everything 

looks perfect

from

far

away,

the song in this cafe

whispers.

the body 

feels like 

it's failing.

nothing is flawless,

despite what we project.

a late capitalist rant

so what's going on?

that shift in tone revealed this was going to be a serious talk. and that seemingly benign question was essentially demanding: in order to receive our support you must defend not only what you're doing with your life, but your entire value system. also: we have your value system all figured out. and: this is why it makes us feel uncomfortable...

i believe in relationships, but not partnerships. the only thing that truly matters are the people in our lives that we develop and maintain a vast array of connections with. this is how we grow. this is how we make sense of the chaos in the world. this is how we don't just fucking give up. no one has a monopoly on that--we all deserve way more than that. and this is not about sex. stop saying "just friends." all relationships are important--in different ways. stop saying "in a relationship." we are all in relationships with the people that are present in our lives.

but back to the matter at hand...

i believe in dignity. but i'm also not dogmatic. i don't want to be doing something that i hate, something that is disempowering and soul-sucking for 8 hours straight, 5 days a week. for the rest of my life. fuck that. but it's not even about me. i want to live in a world where that is no one's reality. the current system is unacceptable. but i recognize the reality that this is where we're still at. i just think we need to tear this motherfucker up.

and now it's time to get real.

after putting me on the defensive about the direction of my life, you explained that you're worried about my future. oh, and that you love me. but i don't need the condescending speech. it's actually not helpful at all. and it just shows how out of touch you are with what i have been doing, what i am continuing to do in the world.

i'm actually really excited about my future. but thanks for pretending to care.

these frameworks labeled "home" (revisited)

back at home. sometimes it's less about roots and more like an anchor. that paralysis of childhood, of being stuck with no way forward. but this is temporary. and i wake up from this dream and everything is moving too fast. everything is too real. i open my eyes again and now i'm standing in the dark library. it's after midnight and even though it's haunted, i'm still turned on. you lean against the railing and my ears are ringing in the silence. is this weird? hearts race. ghosts whisper. i don't want to go home.

this is everything

so. i made it happen. i quit my job, put myself out there, traveled all over, engaged in conversation and ideas, saw old friends, and made some new ones. and now i'm back. i just woke up again in the waiting room, not sure what happens next. this is always exciting and scary. here i am.

and then my phone rang--one of my dearest friends reminding me that the only thing that really matters are the relationships we maintain with the people in our lives. these human connections are all that is truly keeping us going. and if we pay enough attention and continue to care for them, then truly magical possibilities await. this is everything.

risk big (revisited)

the week before i gave notice at my job, i woke up in a fancy hotel room with a famous author. as we walked up broad street after the bar closed the night before, i shared my wild dream with her--my summer scheme to travel around and talk with people about music, work, capitalism, and liberation. she was into it. after the sun rose and her wake up calls rang as scheduled i sat up on the bed and shared my fears about trying to raise money--both the weird act of doing it and the lurking potential for failure. but i also shared how i keep reminding myself that people like chelse@ clint0n get paid $75K to speak at one place. one night. so raising 5% of that to subsist on for a couple months and make my dreams come true really shouldn't feel that scary or strange. "i'm one of those people too," she added. it's good to already have supporters who have put themselves out there and know what it's like to risk big. now it's time to quit my job and just make it happen. xo  

taking risks/on a tuesday

it's april and the world is finally starting to feel like spring. a week ago, i celebrated my 34 birthday--a celebration of springtime and against the fear and hatred of growing older and wiser. we embraced the aging process on the dance floor with reckless abandon, dancing as if our lives depended on it.

the next day i didn't really feel any older, but i was hurting a little bit from having a little too much fun on a tuesday. but i got it together, rolled out of bed and biked to temple university for a late morning conversation between two brilliant political artist/designers: my pal josh macphee and ganzeer, from egypt. i always appreciate hearing josh speak about art and politics and his ideas always open up space for my own insights to emerge. it was two years ago to the date that he spoke at university of the arts on an unseasonably hot april evening on the commons and maintaining the historical memory of social movements through art. his comments about justseeds helped inspire a whole new way of approaching my graduate research. it was a breakthrough moment, making me realize i had to look toward groups and collectives instead of individual activists and artists surviving and transforming the current society. 

this time josh spoke about how in this culture that only values profit-making, it is essential to take risks--to counter that dominant logic by building better relationships with people in our lives. if we focus on fostering healthier communities together then we won't need to compete with each other in the capitalist market anymore. he shared the risk he took early on, decidiing to only produce culture within the realm of civil society--outside of both the commercial and governmental spheres. we need to take risks to create the kind of world we want to live in.

and i'm ready for it. it's not enough to just talk about it now. i'm finally getting some writing done on my zine project and next month i will launch a crowdfunding campaign to help me quit my job and follow my dreams. anything is possible... < 3

oh, and later that day i got to meet the amazing adrienne maree brown--hosting an event with her at the wooden shoe around octavia's brood, the new collection of visionary fiction she co-edited. i have so much love and respect for adrienne and it was absolutely the best event we have ever hosted. so, a good birthday overall and magical kickoff of spring '15!

beyond march: springtime dreaming & scheming

anyone that really knows me knows that spring is my favorite season. spring is when i thrive, it's when i begin to scheme and dream, thawing out out after winter stasis. spring is when i begin to feel alive again. in march we occasionally get to experience glimmers of hope--a fleeting taste of springtime possibilities. march is a month of seasonal puberty, a month of transition. four years ago, i moved from west philly to south philly. it was march 17th that i finally moved all my belongings out of the apartment i shared with my ex who broke up with me at the very start of that year. the day before, i began working at a coffeeshop after a period of unemployment. the middle of march last year was also an intense time of change for me. as i struggled to finish my masters thesis, i was confronted with the reality of an emotionally dysfunctional relationship that came to a screeching halt. at the end of that week i was robbed at gunpoint. spring could not have arrived fast enough. and it did arrive. i met with my advisor in new york and made a plan to finish my program by the end of the semester. i triumphantly celebrated my birthday and made it all happen.

this march, i'm at a crossroads. my life feels pretty similar to four years ago. in fact, i'm still working at that same coffeeshop. what happens next? where will this spring lead me? i'm dreaming and scheming. i'm ready to truly follow my wildest dreams. what do i have to lose?    

further consideration

apparently every time i apply for a job 170 other people will also apply. this time, i was informed about the quantity of my competitors but also that my application "was not selected for further consideration." honestly, this was sort of a relief to learn. i felt free again, unshackled from the expectations of this one specific opportunity. now, i can do whatever the fuck i want. the problem is that i'm still searching for what that looks like. yesterday i returned to reading descriptions of phd programs in ethnomusicology. but then i remembered that conversation we had that night at the lost bar and how it makes more sense to just write a zine instead. writing-residency-fantasies persist. give me the whole summer in a conscious space of creation, surrounded by driven like-minds feeding off each other's energy. mmm...sounds kinda hot too. i need a shower now. maybe that will help me figure out what i'm doing with my life.

living against the blur

i don't want to be jobhunting with you. i don't want to discard our creative impulses in exchange for the empty promises of security and routine, material comfort and health insurance. our eyes are burning from reading about job descriptions, qualifications, and salary ranges commensurate with experience. let's turn off our screens. from now on, we'll refuse to be precarious. let's think bigger and never, ever sarcastically scoff about "just livin' the dream." because we truly will be. let's live our lives in a way that doesn't make it seem like the years are passing us by in a blur. let's start today.

on (not) keeping it cool

at the end of this past month, i went "home" for the holidays. waking up early on christmas eve, i drove my sister's car to a small deli in the town where we grew up to get a few items for breakfast.

hey punk!

at first, i couldn't tell if this voice was directed at me as i walked to the end of the narrow grocery aisle. 

yeah, i'm talking to you, it continued.

i looked up to see a friendly, familiar face--the guitarist/vocalist of my favorite local band when i was 14 years old. there we stood, almost two decades later catching up. he self-deprecatingly announced that he has stuck around all these years, "living the dream." i told him how i've been in philly for a while now and he asked if i was still playing music. to which i responded that every new year i hope to start a band again...but never do. maybe this will be the year?

he's been recording stuff in his basement and he unenthusiastically promised to send me a link to his bandcamp page. as i was driving back to my sister's house i thought about how great his band was back in the day. and later on i listened to their discography as i wrapped presents; fond memories of that diy community of my youth rushing back to me. 

but i also wondered, why couldn't i tell him that? why did i mostly just feel sadness for his current situation, past glories collecting dust as he ages further into obscurity? perhaps if we shared these sentiments with each other more often it wouldn't be this way. 

how come our culture pressures us to keep it so cool? why are we discouraged from honestly sharing how much we respect and appreciate the people that have touched our lives? 

a couple weeks later, i found myself working at the radical bookstore in philly. the phone rang and the man on the end was looking to speak to someone who took care of ordering. i asked if he was looking to place an order and he responded, "i do a zine called cometbus and i was wondering if you all needed more copies of the back issues?"

and i kept it cool.

on the phone with aaron cometbus, one of the most legendary zine writers of the underground punk world, i remained calm and professional, despite becoming slightly friendlier as i counted the number of back issues on our shelf. 

after i hung up the phone i wondered, why did i keep it so cool? even though i demonstrated that i was familiar with his zine, why did i not feel comfortable saying how much i appreciated his work over the decades? maybe it's because i just assumed he knows and didn't want to hear it. he probably gets that all the time, right?

but what about my friend from my home town? and what about people from the past that are no longer with us? those that we now recognize as creative geniuses, but who--in their time--either toiled in obscurity themselves or struggled with mental health issues that prevented them from realizing their own greatness. 

as my friend ak thompson recently wrote about radical feminist icon shulamith firestone after she quietly passed away in 2012:

No mention is ever made of our collective failure, of the gulf between our willingness to concede Firestone's brilliance and our incapacity to realize a single one of her goals. Under venal conditions such as these, who in their right mind wouldn't retreat?

so, i think it's time for us to stop keeping it cool. let's remember to tell the people in our lives that we love and appreciate them. and let's stop being afraid to tell those whose creative and political work has inspired us that they should never give up and that what they do truly matters to us. 

we all deserve much more. 

new year/full moon

a lot people have anxiety about new year's; the intense social expectations to have fun and make meaningful resolutions for the year ahead.

i love new year's. i love celebrating with the most important people in my life. i love creating a more mindful space to reflect on where i have been and to consciously dream about where i would like to go. i love new beginnings. and i love a good party.

but this year was a little different. my current life in philadelphia feels plagued by stagnation so i decided i wanted to celebrate new year's elsewhere. but then after spending holiday time with family i came back to drop my luggage off and soon realized that i couldn't afford to leave.

so i just made the best of it. i entertained a few party possibilities where friends might be. and then, the night before, reality came crushing down on me reminding me how much i'm ready to move on, more forward, and challenge myself once again. i needed a new year's of solitude to think it all through.

so i made soup. i read and played my guitar. and i reorganized the desk in my bedroom--the one where i finally finished writing my master's thesis this past year. listening to the new throwback hip hop station on my radio, as the night went on, i separated a massive pile of recycled paper from year-old christmas cards and other personal items to save.

and then at midnight i turned off my lights and enjoyed the new year fireworks from my third-floor bedroom window. the impressive show exploded in front of the ben franklin bridge for several minutes. and i was alone, but it felt just right.

* * *

a few days later the first full moon of the new year arrived. yesterday also saw unseasonably warm weather in philly which combined for an extra weird day.

in the late morning, before i biked through light rain to my job, one of the active collective members of the bookstore where i volunteer announced over the listserve that she was leaving the collective. her message simply listed all of the responsibilities that other people would now need to take on in her absence.

less than an hour later, i arrived at the coffeeshop where i work to pay the bills. i was immediately informed that the newest worker (who started in the fall) had been fired that morning.

i stared at the new 2015 calendar as i washed dishes in the back and saw that, sure enough, it was a full moon: upheaval. endings. transitions. but also, new beginnings. new possibilities abound right now.

exhausted after a long shift, i went to bed early last night. in the middle of the night i woke up to the clearing sky giving way to the bright, raging moon pouring into my room. and i couldn't fall back asleep for more than an hour.

i was awoken again a few hours later by a brilliant sunrise through another window. a new day has begun. and i'm ready.