that lady

Hello, sarahjurado

2009-06-04T19:40:00.001-07:00

In the vast silence since my last post, wonderful things have been happening.

First of all, a new website.

And the magic catalysts that justified building that pretty little spot... I will now be photo-ing full time, as well as managing my sweet husband Damien Jurado. What means in the immediate future is that we leave for Spain in just over a week for a mini tour + many photos. Long term I have more availability to devote to clients and some free time to spend on education.

So, update them rss's, click through to the new home, and let me know if you have this beautiful photo project you've been meaning to work on. I'm excited to hear from you soon!

xo,

Sarah [Joann Murphy] Jurado

Links!

2009-05-13T17:14:00.000-07:00

Too much goodness happening to even spell it all out. For now, a few awesome links for you of what I've been up to!

- April Brimer talks about the Lonely H shoot that I was able to assist on!

- Kyle Johnson + his photo of that sweet husband of mine. I was holding the light, haha!

- Our wedding featured on Rock 'n Roll Bride!

- Actual photos by ME via the VAIN blog

Phew! More soon! All good, all the time! Exclamations!

xo

A lack of hyperbole

2009-05-10T18:42:00.000-07:00

I am prone to overstating things. I like to say 'amazing' + 'magical' + 'incredible' + 'astounding' - though, in my defense, I mean them with all my heart. I'm trying to think if I've ever earnestly stated that something is 'lifechanging' - but my trip down to Portland surely was.

I left work on Wednesday in tears. Totally spent, exhausted, sad, overwhelmed, you name it. I came home to this:

A shrine from my sweet husband, who had driven straight home from San Francisco to surprise me. It was absolutely unexpected and wonderful, and it was in high spirits that I drove down with him to Portland the next day. We listened to the new John Vanderslice + the new Richard Swift, both of which are undeniably full of jams. I napped. We visited the ghosts of my PDX life. We marveled at the number of vegan treats at Sweet Pea.

My dear and darling Jenny Jimenez was in town doing a workshop with the esteemed Jesh de Rox. Lo + behold, Jesh was a fan of Damien's, and we made sure they made it to the Doug Fir that night as our guests. Jesh offered to do some portraits of Damien the next day; it was a truly generous offer and an amazing opportunity. Needless to say, we jumped at the chance.

From 9 am until just before 1 pm, I had my mind blown. Jesh shifted my view on taking photos, on making any art, on being in love, on living life. To begin to describe it here would never do it justice. It was a shift in my heart, a fire of inspiration. While we took photos, all of us cried at least once. It was unlike anything I have ever done.

I cannot wait to see Jesh's photos. More so, I can't wait to go take more of my own. Damien's tour present for me was a brand new L series, and I'm more inspired than I've ever been.

More soon...

You look like you could use a rest

2009-05-05T09:45:00.000-07:00

I keep busy with work while Damien is gone.

I scouted for April Brimer and found the above treasure. She didn't end up using it for her shoot yesterday with the Lonely H [more on that soon] - which means we can start plotting to use it ourselves at a later date.

I can't wait to have some free time for photo projects - one east of the mountains, one on the southern coast, one out on an island. All, of course, with the husband as an assistant.

I love assisting, since it gives me the chance to work hands on with some of my favorite photographers. But I won't lie, it was nice to have my own camera in my own hands on Saturday to take photos for U.S.E.. I even had my own assistant - my lovely and talented sister, Caitlin!

The band's concept was a very laid back, candid, photojournalistic approach to a day hanging out with them. It was perfect. We braved the rain for some outdoor shots + then took over their practice space to recreate a live U.S.E. experience. They even put the fog machine and the lights in their van for some late night slow shutter action.

I can't wait for their upcoming album, LOVEWORLD, which will undoubtedly fill me with joy just like this:

Pretty much any moment I'm not at VAIN Beauty World I'm taking photos, or working on taking photos, or helping someone else take photos. Actually, much of my time at VAIN is spent on photos as we begin to create a book from our recent project.

It doesn't leave much time for napping, but it's well worth it. This Friday I'll assist my dude Kyle for what promises to be a gorgeous set up, and then I'm hitting the breaks for a while. My sweetheart will take over all my attention until I leave for Vegas, and the camera is staying behind on that trip. Hopefully, I'll get some rest.

Back + Forth

2009-04-20T12:06:00.000-07:00

Some things I'm on the fence about lately. Take, for instance, my outfit today. Ruffled grey shirt cinched with a blue belt; Levis + red cowboy boots. Cute, in theory, and certainly a step above my red hoodie uniform. However, the overall effect seems to lend me the air of someone's crazy aunt. Or... it's kind of awesome. Can't decide. Not willing to put it to a vote. So there I am, wavering back and forth, the same way I approach what to eat for dinner or do in my [little bits of] spare time.

My photos yesterday also seemed uncertain as to what tone they wanted to take.

There were party photos as we celebrated my dear Erica's up + coming wedding:

[Hot chicks, pink champagne, sunshine + brunch, I love it]

Then stopping by to capture the sweetly sad decay along Lake Sammamish.

[Not one thing has changed since I used to walk here to buy candy in middle school]

Then, yep, discarding reflection in favor of sunshine street dancing.

[My gorgeous Adrienne]

Luckily my mind's made up about how to spend my evening: picking up my dear Miles for studying + sushi! Just don't ask me what I'm ordering.

Migraines + Magic

2009-04-18T14:13:00.000-07:00

My eyes ache right now, and I hate light + sound + motion. But I will stubbornly push through my disaster head pain to tell you all how much I loved being at the Crocodile last night.

Broken from the inability to handle all the awesome.

It is an amazing combo when you have people who you think are incredible humans to begin with go get onstage and play music that you love. Even better when the crowd is full of people you adore. This is why I've stopped writing about music. I don't want to talk about why it is good, I want to fall head over heels in love with a song.

I'd been lucky enough to assist Jenny J with promo photos for both Telekinesis AND Say Hi. Their pairing for a US tour meant a too-good-to-be-true homecoming show + TK! CD release; adding the Banyans + Throw Me The Statue just put it over the top.

Andy Fitts // the Banyans

Broecker + E.E.

I hope it goes well // I hope your dad's good // I hope you've got presents // That make you pretty happy // I hope you grow old and // I hope that you find somebody nice

That was a great moment.

MBL

I won't even go into how much I loved seeing TK! play. I'll wax poetic about how 'Coast of Carolina' helped me finish my 8k last week, and I might cry a little... and you know what? My dear sweet husband is all the way in Philly today, and I miss him, and I can't sit at home on a beautiful Saturday crying while I blog. That's not happening.

Eli!

Tambo-man there is Eli Anderson, the dude responsible for bringing that bill + so many other amazing shows to the Crocodile. Thank you, Eli, for having better taste in music than most people can wrap their minds around.

Don't you know that // at the thought of it // the sucker goes ahead // and calls it quits

Forever Broeckers

Scott // Throw Me The Statue

Sadly I couldn't make it more than a few songs into TMTS, even after 'Lolita' and the promise of new [!!] songs. Midnight was coming creeping, and with Damien on a late night drive from NY to PA I needed to check in on his travels. I'm so excited at the prospect of a new album from these dudes though.

[Speaking of SC goodness, it breaks my heart that this pain in my head will likely keep me from seeing Richard Swift tonight at the Crocodile with Vetiver + my dudes Black Whales. GO!! I mean, if it by some miracle has not yet sold out.]

I think that's enough incoherent fan babble for one day. I will return to my post of Advil +/or Maxalt +/or soft whimpering. Not my favorite way to spend Record Store Day, but that's all right. I'll just spend twice as much whenever this lifts.

Bellevue Avenue

2009-04-15T13:54:00.000-07:00

With the dear husband on tour, I've been reminiscing about the 'old days' where I was lucky enough to have him home for months on end. [Or go on tour with him, but that's a different tale.]

That apartment always had fresh flowers. We both still smoked and would do so indoors, perched on my tall grey stools in the kitchenette. We stayed up too late more often than not. We cooked tofu + curry or ate vegan pizza. After several rounds of Twin Peaks, I baked a cherry pie. We recorded covers in Garage Band, most takes running over with laughter where words should've been.

It was good times, and it seems like we were so much younger then. Right before I moved out + we found a sweet house in Ballard, I took my favorite polaroid of all time.

I love the books stacked below the mirrors: McCarthy, Hesse, Robbins, Vonnegut. My favorite photo book by Stephen Shore. Oh, and a season of Dawson's Creek on DVD, open + waiting.

It was an amazing time, but not as magical as our seaside home will be on May 8th. Spic 'n span. Husband home. Nooks for writing, instead of smoking. A living room devoted to photo + art collaborative projects. A chair to write a screenplay in. I might even bake a pie.

Brilliant

2009-04-13T15:54:00.000-07:00

VAIN is busy working with the photos we shot last week. Each talented group has so many images to work with, I don't know how I'll ever compile a book of my favorites. In the meantime, there will be teasers at the VAIN blog for each group.

The start of the day:

And the end:

Such a wide range of colors, costumes, hair, makeup, people, places. I feel really lucky that VAIN asked me to shoot this - it was a big budget high pressure endeavor, and it turned out great all around.

I can hardly wait for my next big project....

xo

The Folkster Four

2009-04-09T12:30:00.001-07:00

The Folkster Four
Originally uploaded by blackfrances

I miss my sweet husband. And I love this photo. I wasn't able to be there for Rosie's wedding, but it was literally a fairy tale by all accounts.

[We walked down the aisle to her voice, too...]

Thinking of you + your midwestern drives.

xo

Hazards

2009-04-02T17:41:00.000-07:00

I talked a little about the Decemberists shoot with Autumn here, but I love these recaps:

Erin

+

Jenny

I am absolutely in love with these photos.

I have a piece of the 'cactus' seen there at my desk as inspiration. It still blows my mind to work with such talented people - behind the lens, in front, beside.

In related Portland + goodness kind of news, I've been emailing with photographer Melanie Brown about a trip to assist her sometime soon. Sadly my schedule prohibits scooting down in time for the next two [awesome] bands she's working with, but I'm excited to get something on the books sooner rather than later.

Late [awesome] nights

2009-03-30T01:02:00.000-07:00

Hoquiam at the Anne Bonny // Bobby Bare Jr at Gainsbourg

Two very different shows, but both incredible. Damien was possessed during the Hoquiam show, leading to one of the strongest performances I've ever seen from him - his eyes rolling, shaking as if the singing might break him. The next night, a secret show at Gainsbourg from a dude who was nominated for a Grammy when he was EIGHT. Unreal.

It's 1:12 am after a 6 day work week. It is probably time for bed, but I'll leave you with these:

xo

PS - new website coming soon thanks to the talents of Jessie Kaye

350,000 short

2009-03-26T17:42:00.000-07:00

My dear Andrea sent me this link, and the property has been on my mind ever since.

Damien and I were at dinner at Bamboo Garden when I saw the post on my phone. We proceeded to daydream about life at the house over gourmet chow mein and one #109 special.

Ideally we would have a lo-fi studio - something we could hodge podge together from all the various bits Damien has acquired over the years. Who knows where we'd find/how we'd afford all the tape for the reel to reels, but no matter. We either have a host of vintage campers or the amazing hippie yurts a short distance from the house, and invite bands to come record with us for free + for fun. Damien wanted to start off this dream session with Karl Blau and Mount Eerie. Why not?

Obviously I'd have a darkroom somewhere.

That location is set a ways off from both Astoria + Seaside, but close enough that it would be really incredible to start a music program for youth in the area. Damien said something like that would be worth applying for a grant, to help subsidize the inevitable property taxes + other expenses we don't currently have. Another amazing option would be to fund it from proceeds from the MUSIC FESTIVAL we would of course have somewhere on those incredible 20 acres. I don't know how one rents enough port-a-potties to make that happen, but I'm sure I could figure it out.

There's a great hippie mart in Astoria that is the real deal. I mean, it isn't just buying tofu - it is bringing in your own reusable containers to buy tofu in bulk. I love it. I'm trying to transition to having hemp powder and gojis and other bits all in bulk here already, and I envision a kitchen running over with mason jars. Morning walks around the acreage with a cup of genmaicha.

My own organic garden? Bike rides to the beach? I can't stop thinking about it. If you want to send 350,000 I promise you can come stay whenever you want. I will make it awesome. Seriously.

Visions

2009-03-24T18:13:00.000-07:00

and the balloon floated by your window
outside
down the street
from the strawberry fair

Husbands, Love Your Wives played at Full Tilt a few weeks ago. I sat cross legged on the checkerboard floor, so close I was almost at Jamie's feet. As she sang "The Strawberry Fair" I was flooded with images.

and my heart,
oh my heart
was red

It was sunset on the northwest side of Lopez, with golden blonde light still filtering across wood washed grey by so many tides. The sand just past the porch was gritty, not soft Mexican beach cover but distinctly northern. There was a woman, maybe 50, silver hair + a white linen shirt. Turquoise jewelry, and a framed photo on the mantel of an Arizona desert-scape. Dried wildflowers rested in a clay vase that was obviously handmade, though not without skill. There were books everywhere, and notes + drawings scribbled on cream colored butcher paper. Baskets of the New Yorker + remnants of the Sunday NY Times, as if New York were the only possible source of news. Through the living room one could see a glimpse of a white tiled kitchen, fresh picked strawberries awaiting attention on the counter.

and the balloon floated by your window
outside
down the street from the strawberry fair
and my heart, oh my heart was ripe

It isn't the first time I've had strong images, though this time they were things I've never seen + people I've never met. But what in the hell am I supposed to do with it? It is foreshadowing? Bones for a story I don't know I'm going to tell? They certainly show up with a push to be recorded and shared, but to what end? I try to focus on being grateful for whatever disjointed muse has visited, and not irritated that I don't know what to do with it other than sketch out a paragraph on my blog.

///

Photos, at least, are outright expressions of what is on my heart + mind:

More of it all, soon.

Tallest Man On Earth

2009-03-23T21:10:00.001-07:00

Tallest Man On Earth
Originally uploaded by sarah joann murphy

He's still onstage singing as I type this. The last time Tallest Man On Earth [who is, remarkably, rather petite and unfailingly polite] played Seattle, it was at the Sunset. Tonight, we're at the Triple Door. Man, I wish I could've been at that last show. Not that tonight isn't perfect. Hoquiam on the bill, banana splits in the bar, old friends in town. It is magic. But as he sang, there was a feeling of history in the air. Like everyone in the audience would remember the night they saw this show. I can only imagine that feeling multiplied times ten in such an intimate space.

Tomorrow our friend Ryan will take him and his beautiful lady south towards San Francisco, via the Redwoods. We haven't seen Ryan since our Okkervil tour, and I have tour fever something awful. This music playing, so richly veined with Americana, seems the perfect soundtrack to get the hell out of dodge.

Wishing that my husband wasn't departing in one short week for those very roads...

Kiddo

2009-03-23T18:26:00.001-07:00

Kiddo
Originally uploaded by sarah joann murphy

One week until the newest Huffman is due. I'm like a kid counting down to Christmas. We did two maternity photo sessions for Rae, the second one at home where we had privacy for bare bellies. They're the most beautiful photos I've ever taken, even if Kirk and Rae are the only ones who will see them.

Hello, Crocodile

2009-03-20T12:28:00.001-07:00

Hello, Crocodile
Originally uploaded by sarah joann murphy

Yes, this happened. Robyn Hitchcock onstage at the Crocodile, joined by Peter Buck, Bill Rieflin, and Scott McCaughey. Hot damn. Nice way to start a new era... surprises of the good variety. I had just walked in the door when they started playing, and spent the rest of the night trying to mentally catch up to what was going on in the room.

I didn't feel as emotional as I thought I would being there again. After all, Damien and I met right out front, smoking cigarettes at a J. Tillman show. But the entire space is so different, it doesn't leave much room for nostalgia - just excitement for what's to come.

Damien's there on May 8th, and I couldn't count how many good shows are coming up there in the next month + beyond. The booking is top notch, for sure. I'm going to be logging some hours there in no time.

Joy

2009-03-07T12:48:00.000-08:00

Life has been real good to me lately. I've spent more nights tucked in at home with my sweetheart, or going on actual dates with him. Tons of laughter with Miles, too - or just watching his own musical genius unfold. Last night it felt almost impossible to leave the cozy house + those two dudes to venture out into the cold.

Oh, man. Am I glad I did.

I walked into Neumo's just as Visqueen started to play, and hearing Rachel's voice felt like being punched in the chest, if punches were made of glitter + love + goodness. Seconds later I realized the hot little bass player was none other than Cristina Bautista, and I almost started to cry. It was such an awesome moment, to see someone living the dream, stepping into Kim Warnick's shoes... it was rad.

Jenny J was there photo-ing - hoping shots will be up on her blog soon. [Check out Say Hi's new press photos there, too!] Robin and I watched from the side, and while we didn't have 5D's in our hands, he did sell me on the CameraBag app for our iPhones. [I'm addicted.]

Say Hi sold me on the new album by the second song. I haven't seen Eric play in [eeeeep!] almost two years; a fact which can be attributed only to my homebody status, not a lack of love for his music. There's a great article by Eric Grandy in this week's Stranger about how Say Hi has evolved over the years + arrived at this new Barsuk release.

Halfway through the set I scooted back closer to merch, trying to make sure I could be in line for a CD when he stepped offstage. My timing was EXCELLENT, because standing there enabled me to be the first person in the venue to get my free Molly Moon's "Mt St Helens Vietnam Band" ice cream.

Sadly, I had to leave before seeing the band for whom said frozen treat was created. But seeing as how they're on Dead Oceans, they're like family now! Surely we'll see them soon. As for me, midnight was looming + I still had two stops to make before making it home.

This little angel was waiting at the Redwood so I could come give her a goodnight kiss. I forget how good it feels to walk into a bar at random and see people you adore. People you have taken very random vacations with. People who have been there through thick + thin. People who you want to have photo dates with. It was nice. I should do it again soon, for sure.

Even better, though, is coming home with milk + waffles for the morning. Two sleeping darlings. Home is nightlights, warm comforters, and the lights of the Vashon ferry in the distance. I'm staying home tonight.

Discovery

2009-03-05T11:33:00.000-08:00

Left to my own devices, I do not get up early on Sunday. Meaning, prior to noon.

But for this beautiful family, I will happily get out of bed to spend a Sunday morning in the park.

Somehow, it didn't rain. It did before, and it did after. We had a magic little window of great light + clear skies.

After a few hours of exploring the park + taking photos + laughing, we headed out to brunch at the 5 Spot. Their theme right now is Austin, which did little to alleviate my tour fever. But the Via Verde special, 3 cups of coffee, and wonderful company helped me re-discover I do love a Sunday morning.

I can't wait to meet you

2009-02-23T22:26:00.001-08:00

Who's that?
Originally uploaded by sarah joann murphy

Kiddo Huffman will be joining us in just a few weeks. He's going to be a magical little dude. Naturally his parents needed maternity photos that were out of the ordinary. We made good use of the "What We Do Is Also Secret" installation while it's still up at VAIN. Coco, the room's creator, may not have met the Huffmans, but they are all clearly kindred spirits.

Having just spent the earlier portion of the day with little 10 month old Miles, I'm even more excited to meet dear Kiddo. I've known Miles' mom since '93, and it is amazing to see what an incredible mother she is. We ate brunch at the Sunlight Cafe as I watched Miles grin + flirt, and I tried not to catch baby fever.

Never in one day have I heard two of my best friends excitedly talking about making their own organic baby food. This is a whole new world, folks.

As I sit here in Seattle with babies on the brain, somewhere in Carolina my dear Dr. Katie Dubs is due any minute. We don't know if that 'nugget' is a boy or a girl, but I can tell you one thing - that baby is going to have such an incredible life. DNA guarantees that kid will be gorgeous, funny, warm hearted, and terrifyingly brilliant. I can't wait to meet YOU, too, nugget.

On that note, I'm going to go lift weights and watch movies about football. Anything to counteract all this estrogen.

Stone cold

2009-02-14T18:20:00.001-08:00

My favorite of the set
Originally uploaded by sarah joann murphy

Sweet sweet Katy Perry

Still truckin'

2009-02-14T14:57:00.000-08:00

It's been quiet on here... not so much in real life. I turned 29, started training for an 8k, quit smoking, finalized plans for some new lenses, and booked tickets to a Vegas getaway in May. In terms of photos + work, I did slow down a bit after all the hustle of January, but February has already had some highlights.

I had the chance to [surprise, surprise!] assist Jenny J of photojj.com at the Anne Bonny for photos of my buddy Eric, also known as Say Hi. Go, Barsuk, go! We ate Bimbo's and told dirty jokes, and Damien hung out with the Anne Bonny's proprietor [and most awesome human] Spencer Moody. The two of them are two peas in a pod, and it's fun to eavesdrop on their discussion of all things musical + historical.

At the very tail end of January I had the chance to photography Katy Perry's performance at the Showbox for spindotcom. She was beautiful, but a Showbox full of preteens is a lot to handle. We only had 1.5 songs to shoot, and I spent most of the rest of the show out front catching my breath. It was totally a thrill to see the article + photos up on SPIN.

In the works are maternity photos for the Huffmans, more promos for Coco Howard's incredible "What We Do Is Also Secret" exhibit at VAIN Downtown, portraits with the Wennberg family, and all the way out in April a really cool project with styling by Felicity of Kevin Murphy.

Until next time, I'll be truckin' along, sans nicotine, but with pretty new glass in my hand!

Hard at work

2009-01-22T13:14:00.001-08:00

cmgs outtake #1
Originally uploaded by wrightmight

From fellow Clise Mansion collaborator, a clip of us all descending upon Jillian.

Inspired

2009-01-21T12:22:00.000-08:00

It's been a busy week for photo-related bits. And for DayQuil consumption, but that's another, and unfortunate, matter.

Friday Kyle Johnson joined me at the podium for Grammy Career Day. My husband, sweet cheerleader that he is, sat in the back of the room for both sessions, just for the moral support of knowing he was there. The Pacific Northwest Chapter of the Recording Academy hosts a day for high school students to learn about music related fields, and I was asked to host the music photography presentation. Lance Mercer hosted the previous year, so it felt like big shoes to fill. The talk went well though, and it was wonderful having a chance to answer individual questions towards the end, where people felt more comfortable.

I celebrated by attending Damien's Hoquiam show at the Q Cafe that night, and not taking a single picture. I listened to a stripped down Grand Hallway set and cried, and heard Jamie sing her Husbands, Love Your Wives song "Ghost" with more sadness than I've ever experienced. It was cathartic, and beautiful, but did nothing to alleviate my cold.

The next morning was an early start to assist + scout for Photo JJ on Vashon for Sunday's shoot with Telekinesis. To fit the tone of the analog recordings on their upcoming record, Jenny was shooting film - my favorite to get my little hands on. She timed everything down to the minute to make sure she could get every shot she wanted. Once that was in place, we settled in for a late brunch at Monkey Tree and an incredible meal of croissant french toast. It's worth the commute just for that dish!

Thanks to the unending sniffles, I slept from two pm Saturday until rising to set up for our first location at 6:30 am on Sunday. Quick coffee, bagels, OJ, and wardrobe + makeup with the band at Chez Jurado before catching the ferry. The band was great fun, a super sweet and sharp witted bunch. Everyone worked quickly, looked gorgeous, and even with another trip to Monkey Tree we were done in time for me to take an afternoon nap.

Monday, I slept. And took Emergen C. And slept.

The rest was much needed to gear up for Tuesday and the group photo shoot at Clise Mansion in Marymoor Park. Kyle had put together an awesome group of photographers, models, makeup artists, stylists and arranged for rental of the space for everyone to exchange ideas and take photos. It was an incredible group of talent and beauty, and it was a little overwhelming to walk in armed with only a 20d + shoot mostly ambient light. I'm really pleased with the results though, and had a great time. Everyone was friendly and out to make great photos together.

A few of the final shots...

Anna + Sam:

Rose:

Jillian:

For everyone's images, check out our group pool on flickr.

It's been a busy few days.

Little of both

2009-01-12T15:55:00.000-08:00

Good:

Bad:

Portland was wonderful, and exhausting. After a long, hard, and awesome day, we were very ready to go home. Sadly, I-5 had other plans for us - it was closed to all traffic for a 20 mile stretch. As were all alternate routes. Chris Funk was kind enough to get us a sweet deal at the Ace, but without a change of clothes or any comforts of home it wasn't a dream vacation. I might've rethought the part where I knelt down in the mud during the first shoot if I'd known I would be wearing that outfit for several days.

There was so much talent packed into that day: second photo assist Alleh Lindquist, stylist Shirley Kurata, her assistant Rachel Demy [an awesome photog in her own right],and do-er of all things Dianna Potter. And, of course, Autumn. It still blows my mind to watch her work. And, regarding my previous purchase of her book at Powell's, it was one year to the day from the shoot. Just goes to show, you never know what good things are coming for you.

Erin wisely caught a flight out of PDX ASAP, but I could hardly leave the dear husband and the car behind. By the time Jenny went to buy a ticket, only half an hour later, they were many hundreds of dollars and involved a 7 hour flight via Phoenix. She arranged for us to stay the night with local photographer Annie Beedy and her sweetheart in their gorgeous and historic home. We opted to take advantage of the day off with a long leisurely brunch at the Cup & Saucer, and a cathartic cry at the movies watching "Benjamin Button." By the time we curled up on Annie & Eric's couch for tea, wine, and conversation, most of my tension over being "trapped" had passed.

Though there had been mention of flooding through Monday, by mid-day Friday we were on the road. We made great time, and I've never been so happy to see my shower. Newly sweet 16'ed Caitlin joined me for a belated birthday dinner at B&O and a good heart to heart. I fell asleep watching her and Damien play guitar, a sweet ending to a very long couple days.

[But I wouldn't've missed the shoot for the world.]

I like '09

2009-01-06T15:50:00.000-08:00

The move is over and done with, and our house is perfect. Our new year was rung in surrounded by the best of friends, despite my original intentions to stay at home. I liked 2008 and all - how can you not love a year in which you got married? But it was with much joy and anticipation that we greeted 2009.

Tomorrow we head out with my dearest Jenny and Erin to work with this magic lady:

This round she'll be photographing the Decemberists. It's my third opportunity to work for Autumn, and it is such an honor to watch her work. I remember buying her book at Powell's last year, not dreaming I'd be working for her shortly thereafter. It bodes well to start the year off in her company once again.

Other things that I like about 2009:

1. My baby sister's 16 birthday - TODAY!
2. Working on my presentation for Grammy Career Day on music photography
3. My talented husband and his new projects
4. Sitting on the couch + watching the Fauntleroy ferry pass by
5. Shoutouts from Kyle Johnson, and the chance to collaborate later this month

Keep the goodness comin'.

Zombie // Love

2008-12-28T01:26:00.001-08:00

zombielove
Originally uploaded by sarah joann murphy

Married, in love, and silly as all get out. This was the last thing we did before falling asleep on Christmas - I can only assume the black light once belonged to my little brother? It's amazing to hang out with your very best friend every day; someone you can be creative with or just be incredibly nerdy with.

I love you, sweet evil little husband.

Love

2008-12-21T02:36:00.001-08:00

Love
Originally uploaded by sarah joann murphy

I'm not prone to going outdoors in this kind of weather, not unless absolutely necessary. But when Jamie and Scott invited us over for dinner, we could hardly say no. The walk, though chilly, was quiet and serene. Damien did fall once, but jumped right back up with fists of victory.

We arrived with every non alcoholic beverage I could think of - Coca Cola in old fashioned bottles, fancy ginger ale, kombucha, Dry lavender soda. In no time there were candles lit, new chandeliers hung, and Bonnie Prince Billy singing sweetly.

Scott made a wonderful meal, and as I type this I'm wishing we had leftovers tucked in the fridge. We smoked rose tinged and/or hand rolled cigarettes, drinking and laughing. Dessert was poached pears and recounting the paths that led us all there to that table, to such a beautiful meal with so much joy.

When we finally said goodbye just after midnight, we found ourselves on snowy streets all the way home. It came up higher than my boots most of the way, and I became very grateful for the silly looking hat I had on. Arriving home it was immediately time for a warm bath, and with only slightly less urgency the admiring of photos that captured the night. Bed is in the near future.

It's December 21st now. Happy three months of marriage, dear panda. [PHOTO POST FROM WEDDING IS COMING ANY MINUTE NOW, I SWEAR] Love gets bigger and better every day.

Things about being cold

2008-12-19T18:46:00.000-08:00

I am brain dead, and not eloquent. But these things seemed worth mentioning.

1. Someone hit my nice coworker, My, on Summit today. With their truck. She's fine, but the driver of the truck saw her laying face down on the ground and yelled "You're an idiot." He then drove off. There should be a minimum humanity level before receiving a license to drive. Be careful out there, peoples.

2. There was a seagull on Pine and 2nd that had frozen perfectly like a statue and died. It's real cold. People and animals in this region don't have the skill set to deal with this. And/or government agencies that can provide transportation, clear roads, shelters, etc. I don't know how I can go from a dead bird to an attempted rant at the mayor, but it's in there somewhere.

3. There is a shortage of blood at the blood banks, and no shortage of inevitable accidents. If I do leave the house tomorrow, it will be to head to Puget Sound Blood Center. If you like saving lives + free cookies, we can skate over towards Madison together.

Hope all of you are warm and safe.

To clear vision...

2008-12-11T13:26:00.000-08:00

I need a sticker that says "To clear vision, take me to the Oregon coast." Life looks so much better, so serene, so full of possibilities after a breath of ocean air. Needless to say, a week later, things seem less pacific. But our new view of the Sound, just a few days away now, should have an equally calming effect.

Our trip started with Sonic Youth on the stereo and sunshine in the sky as we drove south; both lent the feeling of being in another time and place. By the time we hit the 101 the climate had changed, and the Maldives fit the tone of foggy forest backroads. Everything seemed enhanced by the soundtrack - dancing to Beat Happening while eating taffy in Seaside, the way Nirvana sounds when heard in a grey coastal town. Damien even said he liked a Spoon song! I'm winning him over, bit by bit.

Since we returned home, it's been busy. It'll make a person want to make a run for the coast. But though much of the busy has been maddening [like putting everything we own into boxes] lots of it was good stuff, too. Like taking pictures of my favorite people.

I'd already done Christmas portraits for the Huffmans:

And Sunday it was the sweet Drurys:

Then more with my dear old friend Ryan:

It's great just to be able to spend time with any of the above peoples, let alone to get to take photos. Seeing the finished product is comforting as we pack up and head to a new residence, a reminder of loved ones and good times when life appears to be an endless stream of boxes.

Christmas morning should find us staring out at a [snowy!?] Fauntleroy ferry. Santa, if you're listening, I'd love another minimoon in my stocking.

Astoria, OR

2008-12-11T00:36:00.001-08:00

the real photographer - Astoria, OR
Originally uploaded by caught in the trees

Home now. Husband takes some amazing camera phone photos. I'm so tired that I cried at the preview of Marley & Me, declaring "I want a puppy." For now, bed.

xo

PS - Minimoons are good for the soul.

Minimoon

2008-12-09T20:49:00.000-08:00

More soon...

xo

Ok, sure

2008-12-05T16:57:00.001-08:00

Yes, please
Originally uploaded by sarah joann murphy

I'll wake up to this view daily.

Stoked!

Except for the part where we have to pack....

30 minutes before the party

2008-12-03T12:18:00.001-08:00

Mon, Dec 1, 2008 at 6:52pm
Originally uploaded by McLeod Residence Photobooth

VAINiversary was a success. I have a faint ache in my hip to prove it. Laura Musselman will soon be sending us roughly 20GB of photos - apparently we're aptly named, as no one shied away from their vanity.

I'm so proud of all the effort put in by Rebecca, Sylvia, Victoria, and Lisa - we had DJ El Toro to keep us dancing, brilliant strawberry basil cocktails by Tracy, 2 performances by Johnny Boy and Rainbow from the Can Can, a million photos, and not one injury. It's a sign of the times that I had to leave before midnight. My old bones can't handle more than 12 hours in 4" heels.

Congrats to VAIN on 12 years of success. And for those wondering why I love this company so much, take a peek at this post by Shaun Surething. He really shows why the space is so much more than a salon...

Always trying

2008-11-29T20:16:00.001-08:00

Jamie Spiess
Originally uploaded by caught in the trees

Damien is threatening to overtake my talents in photography, armed only with a cameraphone and the built in camera on his mac. In turn, I've started writing snippets of songs - though my lyrics will surely need his melody.

It's good to collaborate together - I've never had someone who made me feel so comfortable with my flailing attempts to put words together, and he suddenly has a brain to pick to find out how to make photos look the way he wants.

Skylark, our home, is full of creativity and projects we can hardly wait to start. For tonight, cooking cranberry pineapple compote leaves the kitchen smelling like a Christmas-y dream, and I can't currently stand the thought of ever leaving the house.

Given

2008-11-27T23:35:00.000-08:00

Today went by too quickly; the Thanksgivings of my youth always felt like they went on for a week. A day of cooking, a day of napping, a day of football, a day of laughter that only family can bring, a day of eating, and of course a few more days of napping. This year things were over before I knew it, a fact made worse by the fact that I really wanted to savor this go 'round.

With Mr. Miles in tow, we met Jamie for a cup of morning coffee at Victrola. The light was streaming in through the windows with perfect undertones of grey, and photos of the kiddo eating a muffin were more magical than the scene suggests. With all the anticipation of Damien's return, the day itself felt like Christmas... even better, maybe. At the very least as good as the day I got my pink Schwinn bicycle, age 9.

Dad and Sandy's house was warm and comforting, and it didn't take long to fill up. My mom and Caitlin joined us midafternoon, as the Banks' took turns preparing goodies and sharing photos from the Italian voyage. Damien told everyone all about Europe, and Miles was all hugs and smiles. I spent a good deal of time curled up with a trashy novel, and trying not to spill, break, or otherwise ruin any of the yummy bits in the kitchen. My brain and body seemed ill equipped to deal with basic tasks, as if the relief of Damien's return meant a total surrender to all the stress we've been under. Everyone gave advice on how to address our current lack of a vehicle [RIP, sweet Subaru] and even if no decisions were made, it no longer feels like an impossible task.

The menu was so gracious to us vegans this year - mashed potatoes with soy milk and tofutti, tofu + chickpeas with chili and cinnamon, red lentil dal with fresh cilantro, special field roast and chestnut stuffing, asparagus with roasted peppers, eggplant and tomatoes. And that's not even half of it.

We're home now, everyone asleep but me. Daydreams of West Seattle cottages and ocean views keep me too giddy for actual sleeping dreams. I have visions of a weekend trip to the coast, to spend some real time in Hoquiam, a million ideas for songs and photos and paintings. I want days like today to last forever, to bottle that calm warmth of time with my family. I'm afraid if I go to sleep I'll wake up without the magic glow of this holiday. At least Christmas is on the horizon, and the thought that the new year might bring a new address...

Your phone is ringing

2008-11-24T18:54:00.000-08:00

I've composed this entry ten times, but nothing seems fitting. Things have been said more eloquently by people who knew John so much better. Chris Estey, or Kerri Harrop, to give just a few examples.

What keeps bringing me to tears is that Damien missed his last phone call. John left a cheery message, wishing him a good tour. Both Damien and Eric had really hoped to make it back in time to see him again in person. John's passing may not have been unexpected, but man, so many people are so sad to be saying goodbye. All of my powerlessness feels tied up in that missed call, as if having had the phone turned on in Sweden would've eased the pain. I think that concept of absence is just too overwhelming, and it's more tangible to be angry that a voicemail will expire after 14 days.

One positive thing to do with the grief is channel it into supporting John's family. Also from Kerri:

"A fund has been established in his memory, and will help his wife Jody get through this difficult time. Please consider donating what you can. John touched a lot of lives, and will be greatly missed by many.

The JOHN D SPALDING MEDICAL FUND is set up now at Bank of America. You can stop in at any BOA branch, nationwide, and kick down a little something. All you need to do is open your wallet, along with your heart, and tell them the name.

All funds will go directly to Jody, to help her with expenses."

Damien will be home in less than 48 hours. I don't think I could wait one minute more.

Thick and thin

2008-11-19T12:28:00.000-08:00

My dear friend Jamie has been having a rough go of it lately. She's the beautiful songstress behind Husbands, Love Your Wives - and the creator of the amazing cakes Damien and I had at our wedding. Jamie and Damien have a really incredible friendship, one that has suffered some tough times. It has also given rise to a spooky creativity that they spark in each other, and some gorgeous music.

It's been tough to see Jamie in pain and have Damien a world away.

Luckily, Jamie has a lot of friends who wanted to help. Last night at the Sunset, those friends gathered on stage, in the crowd, and behind the scenes to create a benefit show for her.

Grand Hallway made me cry.

While the Banyans lifted the mood for everyone.

And then Final Spins smashed it with some sweet party jams.

The Maldives played a stripped down 3 person set.

But invited the whole band up onstage for their last triumphant song.

Moondoggies had the crowd dancing [and the Long Winters' Roderick there to watch].

Amazingly, they were called upon to be the impromptu backing band for Jamie to sing two of her songs, and they were so graciously up for the task.

Jamie struggled a bit with the electric guitar, frail arms fumbling with the unfamiliar instrument. Yet once she started playing... it was incredibly powerful. Dark, haunting. A dramatic contrast to the rambling feel good jams the Moondoggies had just played; but an appropriate departure given the reason we were all gathered there.

A hospital bracelet still on a wrist.

A stark figure onstage singing such sad songs.

On the drive home, her lyrics stuck with me. Talk of ghosts led me to read too much into the sight of a cloud-covered waxing gibbous moon. At the corner of Westlake and Western I was struck by the fact that I was the only driver on the road. No one around, just the wind blowing around the skeleton remnants of leaves, causing street signs to sway and creak.

A tell tale Nirvana ringtone saved me from dark reflections; the husband calling from Norway, or Spain, or en route to one or the other. Jamie's Ghost was alive and well. So is Jamie. And near or far, they've stuck together through thick and thin.

I'll close with these photos of Jamie, because they're too dear to me not to repost.

All is not lost

2008-11-18T14:14:00.001-08:00

All is not lost
Originally uploaded by sarah joann murphy

Sunday we escaped the city and ventured south. We searched for one of those antiquated machines, the ones that you can pay $3 and let it steal your soul.

Jessie had found a listing for a photobooth at B&I in Tacoma, and even called ahead to make sure it was there. We had no idea what we were pulling up to when we parked in front of the store. Inside, you could buy anything from gold grills to ghillie suits, upholstery with kitten faces or a real live puppy, knockoff everything and Guadalupe candles. It was an awesome mess.

After riding the carousel and seriously considering the purchase of a crab whose shell featured the great state of Texas on its back, we got down to business. Our first photo strip turned out fine, if a little digital, but the second came out with just one frame. We told the very nice lady behind the counter, and she "fixed" it so we could repeat the process. When it happened a second time, we gave up on B&I in favor of the Cha Cha.

On the drive, I joked that if a photo really stole your soul, then ours were now trapped in a sad Lakewood arcade. Our mission for good photos took on a new urgency: to save our souls. We had a Jarritos and pondered the potato burritos while we waited for the bar to open, only to discover that the trusty Cha booth was broken as well.

In desperation, we headed to the Broadway Market, thrilled to see that the old color machine still existed upstairs. It did, and salvation came in the four identical frames seen here. All is not lost, indeed.

When the going gets tough, the tough get... well, a little crazy

2008-11-13T19:57:00.001-08:00

Being a newlywed is dreamy, except for the moments when being on different continents drives you batty. Which, for me, has been every day since October 29th. At first I embraced the cat-lady-ness of housesitting for the Banks' 3 kittens in West Seattle, made good use of their cable [Mad Men!] to distract myself, but as soon as I returned to our sweet apartment it hit: I am really depressed without my husband.

You do what you can. I did yoga with my Rae-wife and the one and only Anna Banana, while Lauren did crosswords and Bethie knitted. There was a disproportionate laughter to yoga ratio, which was probably more therapeutic than the downward facing dog. But when I returned home I couldn't sleep, and in the morning couldn't wake. I didn't really want to cook, couldn't think of any takeout worth my time, and sat staring at a blank TV screen. Nothing sounded appealing. I called my father and announced I had "advanced ennui."

I checked the mail, in hopes of cheery netflix. But no - "Crash" "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" and "Ghandi." Ghandi? I suppose it might be inspiring, but my mental capacity maxes out somewhere around "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" in times like these. Jenny Slay cut me some bangs, because most bad moods really can be solved with a new haircut, but the magic was missing in the scissors this go 'round. [The bangs are hot though, J!]

Something had to be done. So I decided to cut through my blues with doing the most ridiculous things possible. For instance, after reading this amazing review in the Seattle Weekly, I went out and bought the new Jessica Simpson CD. That's right. AND I'm blogging about it. It's awful, and perfect, and it really makes me want to go to Texas. I'm going to strongly consider charging a new L series lens, credit be damned. And I reserve the right to take my little vegan self out for a cheeseburger this weekend, given that it is the only food that holds any appeal. Reading this list, it makes it sound like nothing more than retail therapy - but that wasn't the original intent. The idea was that life is too damn short not to do silly things sometimes. And throwing caution to the wind is sometimes the only weapon to launch at life's grey mundane onslaught.

Two weeks until the sweet spouse is stateside. Come hang out, enjoy the crazy while it lasts.

Damien Jurado, "Caskets"

2008-11-12T22:31:00.001-08:00

Damien Jurado, "Caskets"
Originally uploaded by thinklab

Handsome husband. Cannot wait to see the video on MTV. Congrats Damien, Eric, Jenna, Drake, + Thinklab.

Across the globe

2008-11-09T16:18:00.001-08:00

married
Originally uploaded by sarah joann murphy

Miss you, Mr.

Yes we can

2008-11-04T23:07:00.001-08:00

election10
Originally uploaded by sarah joann murphy

Lauren sat, held my hand, and said:

"I can't remember the last time I said this... but it's all going to be ok."

So much joy. So proud. So in love.

Jinx

2008-11-04T11:19:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning to a 7 am text from my beloved Christianna in New York, reminding us all to go vote. I turned on CNN and cried. I got dressed, put on my Obama button, and walked out the door. As I walked, I thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be funny if I remembered Election Day as the day I fell down the slippery stairs and had to watch CNN from a hospital bed?"

A split second later, I fell directly on my ass. Luckily, not enough to warrant an ER visit.

I decided to start my day over, and went back in the house to make some juice. Putting my juicer together, I neglected to put the catch-all on the back, and promptly sprayed kale bits all over the kitchen. One more disaster aside, I headed out [no slips!] and drove across the West Seattle bridge, crying as I honked at the man with the Gregoire/Obama sign.

I cried again texting with my co-worked Jake about how much this election means to us and our children. I cried reading on Slog that the Tuba Man passed away, and remembered a childhood of season tickets to Mariner's games at the Kingdome. For a change of pace, I walked up to get my free cup of "I voted" coffee from Starbucks, and promptly spilled it down my chest as I walked back to work.

I'm thinking that I've had my share of bad luck for one day, though there's surely more tears to come. I'll light another Guadalupe candle after work, and watch the results in the company with my surrogate spouse Racheal. After all, she was my 'wifey' before the two of us actually tied the knot with our dear husbands. It's tough not to have Damien here on such a historic day, but it's amazing to feel so connected to my loved ones and to complete strangers on a day like today.

I'm sure there's no need to remind anyone to vote, but I'll just wish everyone the best. And don't forget to bring some tissues.

I < // 3 Tour

2008-10-28T12:18:00.000-07:00

26 days apart. Good thing we had 3 awesome days together, first.

Saturday night Damien + Drake played at the Anne Bonny as a part of Expo 86. It was, by far, my favorite Hoquiam show to date. I got lost in the songs, staring at the neon of an Olde E sign, absorbing the dark lyrics. Once I shook off their spell, we took my sister Caitlin down to No Space for Katharine Hepburn's Voice and the poetry of Pete Quirk:

Sunday the ever talented Matt Dillon hosted a Harvest Festival at the Corson Building. There was music by Zach Tillman, Jenna Conrad/Troubletown, and Damien. Apple cider was fresh pressed right on site, and days later I'm craving more. As always the food was astounding!

One Tree Hill was on at 9pm on Monday, and with extreme excitement we waited to hear "Sheets" featured on the show. I was so proud I could hardly stand it; seeing his album artwork appear on screen during the credits was totally surreal. Texts and emails and friend requests poured in, and it would've been a moment of victory. Would have, because our celebrations were cut short. An accident, courtesy of one of the cats we're watching while my siblings are in Italy, took precedence. It was a fitting contrast to the thrill of fame and a check in the mail - chasing a cat around the house, trying to clean it's butt. The universe has a nice way of doling out humility.

In one hour my baby takes off for Amsterdam. I do not love tour, but I do love the sweetness of the days that precede it.

Erica + Nick

2008-10-19T22:21:00.000-07:00

Today was a really special day for me. Not only was it my husband's first day photo assisting (he can now tell you what 50mm means) - but we were working together to capture a glimpse of the goodness that is Nick + Erica.

Erica's had BFF status in my life for well over a decade now; for 11 of those years, she's been with Nick. I remember the first night they met, and so many of the milestones since then. They truly are family to me, and I cannot wait to be one of her bridesmaids.

Before the wedding, though, there is the equal bliss of engagement. We spent the day traipsing from the gardens of the Eastside to the middle of Sunday crowds at Seattle Center. Through it all there was laughter and excitement; our boys traded war stories about tours while we wandered off speaking in our own well worn code. They are an extraordinarily beautiful couple, inside and out, and I loved having a sunny October day to spend in their company.

June will be here before we know it. Congratulations to both of my dears, and thank you for this day!

Busy little bird

2008-10-12T09:34:00.000-07:00

The days since the wedding have been full to the brim.

My first married weekend was spent solo while D was out on tour, but I made good use of the time. I started with an early Saturday morning shooting for T Mobile, and I wish I had use of the images to show you how gorgeous the store was. Bright white with bursts of color, innovative displays, and a sparkling circular faux-vintage booth I wanted to steal for my own home. My imaginary home, where I have room for such things.

At the opposite end of the photographic spectrum, I closed out the day shooting Helms Alee and Akimbo for the Weekly:

The next day I visited a condominium property in Issaquah for my first venture into commercial writing. Diversity! Naturally I've now sold myself on the place, and dream of 2 bedroom townhomes nuzzled up at the base of Tiger Mountain.

Got myself and my bio together for the Rocktober show opening this Saturday at VAIN Downtown. My pieces are a little less Rock Band, a little more like the gentle "hush" in a nearly silent crowd; a reminder to stop and be mindful of a delicate moment, even amidst crowded venues and neverending tours. I also can't wait to see the show posters selected from the vast Methane Studios catalog. They've got a sweet one from the Death and Dismemberment tour that has to be mine.

Though I worked all last weekend, I did make it out to Reverbfest in Ballard. I got to see the awesomeness of Police Teeth firsthand:

After a few more runs up and down Ballard Avenue, watching shows gave way to catching up with old friends:

Sunday night a new jewelry installation went up at VAIN Ballard, and I immediately began to covet little chicken feet to call my own. Since the pieces aren't for sale, I'll have to settle for the inspiration of looking at them all month long.

Finally Monday came around, not a moment too soon, and I had my husband home. Even better, we picked up the kiddo to come stay with us for a few weeks. We celebrated with dinner at Blue C; or, as I've dubbed it, Japanese Chili's. Authenticity aside, you can't mess with their V-8 rolls. They could comprise my only food group. A week of domestic bliss followed, including an investment in new Mizunos and subsequent attempts at jogging. Having family home didn't put a stop to the busy weekend syndrome, however.

Saturday started with my baby brother's senior portraits. My favorites, of course, won't make the cut, but at least they'll have their 15 minutes right here:

And Damien's instore at Sonic Boom, where Miles had the coolest [if not best] seats in the house:

Then, I went back to work. And today, in about 10 minutes, you guessed it! Then my real work week starts on Monday. Luckily, I have a job that I love, one you can literally spend every day at and still be excited about what you do/what your company does as a whole. No tweets of dissent from this bird.

xo

I SHOULD ALSO MENTION THAT DAMIEN WILL BE ON 107.7 THE END THIS EVENING FOR THE YOUNG + THE RESTLESS, AS HOSTED BY THE LOVELY MEGAN SELING. AND, NEXT WEEKEND MEANS ENGAGEMENT PHOTOS FOR MY DEAREST NICK + ERICA, WITH MANY MORE SLEEPLESS NIGHTS PLANNING IDEAS FOR WHERE TO TAKE THEM!

To revive an old term

2008-10-06T20:14:00.000-07:00

I will hereby invoke: mass rad awesome. I'll need it to describe this.

Edit: AND to describe this

TOO GOOD!

Mr + Mrs

2008-10-04T17:28:00.000-07:00

I'm quite fond of married life.

The above photo is courtesy of my dear sweet Jenny Jimenez of photojj.com. Many more photos to come; but, like all things, the best comes to those who wait - we should have the full beautiful set in another month.

More details to come...

Edit: more photos from Jenny! It's like Christmas... only way more romantic!

With my family:

First kisses:

See you on the flipside

2008-09-18T22:10:00.001-07:00

5 days

2008-09-16T19:43:00.000-07:00

Wedding planning has become a full time job, a constant obsession, piles of notes, spreadsheets, rsvp lists, fittings and polishings and every other kind of planning I can think of.

Last night, we got to put that all on hold and just... enjoy.

Our dear friend Matt and his lovely lady Jenna gave us an astounding nuptial gift - a "rehearsal" dinner at Matt's esteemed Corson Building. He graciously set aside the meat dishes he's so acclaimed for to make a delectable vegan feast. I've never had a night like it - a room full of two families, about to be one.

We watched the trains out back.

And stole glances at the kitchen.

We feasted on vegetables of all kinds.

I almost lost my mind at the almond sorbet with watermelon, and I swear I tasted roses in there somewhere, too.

It was peaceful, relaxing, and so full of love.

Matt Dillon, Jenna Conrad, we love you dearly. Thank you for an incredible evening, one we'll remember for the rest of our lives.

Kitchens and sweetness

2008-09-03T12:53:00.000-07:00

Where have I been hiding lately? Mostly here.

Sometimes, in the park, with these two.

Sending envelopes with heart shaped stamps. Dreaming about starry nights in Texas. Fighting off ill-timed colds with every organic vegan soup I can dream up. Wishing I knew how to make my own ginger ale. Counting days until I change my name.

xo

Black Cab // Green Man

2008-09-01T10:07:00.000-07:00

Damien Jurado + Jenna Conrad:

From Black Cab Sessions.

Totes

2008-08-28T11:06:00.000-07:00

I am serious when I say I loved high school. It seems a rare thing amongst my friends nowadays, most of whom remember hallway horrors or general disdain for their cohorts. Don't get me wrong, the mid-nineties were a dangerous time for me - there was the Alice in Chains t-shirt the first day of freshman year, the inevitable bouts of teenage depression. But more often than not, I was having a damn good time.

That goodness can be directly credited to my friends. There were eight of us that traveled en mass. It was a given that anything one of us did, the other 7 would be involved in. There were occasional sub divisions based on boyfriends or sports or who could keep pace with me and my blossoming alcoholism. I have memories of those ladies that are so amazing, I still bask in the glow of them more than a decade later.

Yesterday one of us celebrated entering the last year of our twenties. I remember when we were 14. It doesn't seem possible. Last night I met Kristen, Adrienne, Erica, Sarah, and her daughter Kyra for dinner. Bellevue looks less and less familiar each time I go there; I had to call for directions just to find my way around the mall. But those girls are just as I remember them. Perhaps more beautiful, if that's possible. We talked about our upcoming ten year reunion, and relived our previous birthday celebrations.

[See also: the year Kristen and I blew $500 on booze one night in Vancouver, finding ourselves on a boat with strangers miles from shore at three am, unsure to our car was, or ourselves for that matter. I like that birthdays for me now involve being the designated driver.]

As I drove home across I-90, I was giddy. I couldn't believe how good it felt to be with people you love so much, who've known you so long, who lived with you in that first mold-infested apartment, who've visited you in the hospital when your appendix burst, who have the best sense of humor, who don't give a damn what you look like, who you're obviously going to know until the day you die. To my girls, I think you are as incredible as I did back in our heyday. Lizzy, Cheryl, and Carly, we wish you could've been there. We can't wait to see you someday soon. Totes love you all.

Weddings

2008-08-17T17:46:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, my dear friends Nate + Debbie got married.

We joined them at the Flying Horseshoe Ranch on a perfect August afternoon.

Amidst horses, cozy cabins, and sunlit fields, we watched them join their lives in love.

Then, we ate barbecue.

The Moondoggies played in the moonlight by a campfire. It was a dream.

With my own sweetheart off in the UK, my own wedding plans have taken over daily life. I'm typing this in a pile of shower gifts and invitations; the notecards intended to help me organize have morphed into an intimidating pile that's staring me down. This week I will tackle them all, powered by the weddings I've seen recently. In addition to celebrating Nate + Deb, I had the chance to assist Jenny J while she photographed the celebrations for Nabil + Michaela. It was a truly magic day at the the Corson Building, inspiring and overwhelmingly beautiful. Listening to Lavender Diamond perform on the patio, the gorgeous couple surrounded by friends and family, it felt like heaven.

I've seen more weddings this year than in all my other years combined. It only makes me more excited for my own. Around the world, Damien is singing in a Black Cab after performing at Green Man [photos by Derek // the Cave Singers who played the day prior]. We only have a handful of days together before we say our vows, but it makes me so grateful for the time we do have together.

All my love and blessings to these weddings.

Sleepy tired

2008-08-06T13:36:00.000-07:00

Where to begin, with two hours of sleep under my belt? Start way back at Saturday, when I was showered with love and gifts from my ladies? With Sunday's frustrations - broken juicers, invite mishaps? It all seems so far away at the moment, with the last 24 hours taking up most of my available brainpower.

Last night, some truly amazing people got together to celebrate with John Spalding. It was such an incredible outpouring of affection. I felt blessed to be there and to meet John. He's been a friend of Damien's since back in the days of Raft of Dead Monkeys.

I sat with his grandmother for a while - his whole family was there with him. She and I talked about what an amazing person John is, and how much love was reflected back at him last night.

Marcus, one of the brains behind the event, helped his grandmother pose for the camera:

It went well, to say the least:

We left just before last call, though we needed to be in bed hours earlier. At quarter of four I was still editing and uploading. I was not amused when the alarm went off two hours later. Regardless of my feelings about the time of day, KEXP beckoned.

Damien's instudio was spot-on; I love hearing the way the three of them play together so seamlessly. D has often said he couldn't go on making music without Eric and Jenna, and it's easy to hear why.

"Caught in the Trees" isn't out until September 9th, but the always-knowledgeable Heather Hydra declared it a hit upon first listen at the Boom yesterday.

I know I'm in love.

Press release!

2008-07-31T13:10:00.000-07:00

Hanging the show tonight... so excited. What an amazing group of women to be working with.

/////////

You Say Good-Bye, I Say Hello
A Group Photography Show featuring the work of Jenny Jimenez, Laura Musselman, and Sarah Joann Murphy, curated by Hannah Levin

What? The carefully edited collected works of three of Seattle's most prolific and talented live music photographers.

No, really, what? Jimenez, Musselman and Murphy will each be displaying a series of photos by bands either playing their last show ever (Jimenez's bold and bittersweet shots of Sleater-Kinney's final performance at the Crystal Ballroom in Portland circa 2006), or experiencing a triumphant homecoming (Musselman's exclusive shots of Death Cab For Cutie's return to the Admiral Theatre in Bremerton in early 2008, shortly after Plans had just gone platinum) or a rebirth of sorts (Murphy's vivid and intimate shots of a recharged Mudhoney unveiling The Lucky Ones at the Sunset earlier this year). Sample images from each photographer are attached.

Where? Tigertail in Ballard
704 NW 65th St, Seattle, WA 98127
206-781-TAIL (8245)
www. tigertailbar. com/

When? The show will open with a casual reception at Tigertail on Thursday, August 7 from 7—10 pm, and will remain on display through September 30. Members of local band the Cops will be on the DJ decks throughout the evening, and all three photographers will be on hand to discuss their work.

Why? Local music writer and KEXP DJ Hannah Levin has collaborated with all three photographers over the last several years and simply believes their cumulative talents deserve a forum less fleeting than alt-weekly newsprint. Plus, she spends an awful lot of time at Tigertail and appreciates the opportunity to dictate the décor.

About Jenny Jimenez:

"Having lived in both New York & California, I came to Seattle in 1999 to try something new, drawn by the city's prolific music community and diverse landscape. A loner at first, you could find me in the front row at Seattle music venues the Crocodile Cafe and the Showbox, camera in hand. I soon became part of the community I was documenting, playing bass in the all-female lineup of the Catch and lending vocal harmonies and multi-instrumental talents to Amy Blaschke's band, Night Canopy.

You can see my work each week in The Stranger, where I've covered the Club Directory column for the past five years.

I shot the final SK show for a SPIN feature and have previously taken portraits of them for the Stranger and Mercury. Two of these images have never been seen previously. I have a personal connection with the band and their music, crediting them for giving me the courage to learn to play an instrument and make art. After seeing them at Ladyfest Olympia 8 years ago, I came home and attempted to organize with other women in the community and put one on locally. I served as co-curator for the Women Who Rock Photography exhibit at the Vera Project during the first Ladyfest Seattle.
"

For more on Jimenez, visit photojj. com

About Laura Musselman:

"I moved to Seattle in the fall of 2004 from Milwaukee, Wisconsin after numerous visits that always left me in tears on the returning flight. I am never unaware of the beauty of the Pacific Northwest. I primarily take pictures of music because passionate people performing for me makes me feel alive, and makes me want time to stop. It's also a great excuse to stand in the front row.

My photographs have appeared in the Seattle Weekly, Paste, Seattle Sound, threeimaginarygirls. com, Billboard, and I regularly document KEXP's live in-studio performances.

I chose these photos of Death Cab because it was the first show on the Narrow Stairs Tour, and Plans had officially just gone platinum. It was a definite homecoming for Ben Gibbard, who spent his teenage years in Bremerton, always having to leave Seattle shows early to catch the last ferry home. The venue only holds 999 people and is decorated in a really quaint under-the-sea sort of theme, and for that night, they still felt like a hometown band.
"

For more on Musselman, visit www. lauratakespictures. com

About Sarah Joann Murphy:

After years of admiring the work of other photographers, Sarah purchased a Canon 20d on April 14th, 2007. Through sheer good luck, she was able to photograph the Long Winters that same night at the Showbox in Seattle, WA. Those photos, my first ever taken, will be featured in an the band's upcoming live DVD. That out-of-the-gate eye for good shots is representative of Sarah's work.

In the past year, her photographs were featured in the Stranger, Seattle Weekly, and by Three Imaginary Girls. She is a regular contributor to the style blog at vain[dot]com, and was featured in VAIN's City Life polariod exhibit. She has done production and photo assistance for several noted photographers, including Jenny Jimenez, Renee McMahon, Justin Dylan Renney, and Autumn deWilde. Currently she shoots freelance for the Seattle Weekly and is working on her first solo show with Ghost Gallery.

"I love the photos I picked of Mudhoney [and that show in general] because it was at the SUNSET of all places," says Sarah. "Seeing Mudhoney in the year 2008 in a venue that small felt like a strange time warp. It was a part of SP20's celebrations long before the festival took over the city this summer. It was a hello to their new album, the Lucky Ones, and a hello AGAIN to Superfuzz Bigmuff.
"

For more on Murphy, visit sarahjoannmurphy. com/

PRESS CONTACT: Hannah Levin, rocketqueen@seattleweekly.com

Cheery

2008-07-29T15:14:00.000-07:00

This last week was like an Okkervil reunion tour, without the Okkervil. Thursday night, after a birthday hug for Imaginary Dana, we headed out to Nectar to see Shearwater. We hadn't seen Jonathan since last September, and it was incredible to see the full band after hearing those songs solo for so many nights. Adam Voith was there, brilliant as usual; it's pretty magical to sit back and watch him talk with Damien, a lot of shittalking mixed in with insightful music commentary.

I bought Palo Santo on vinyl because it's gorgeous enough to own twice.

Sunday I almost missed out on the goodness. After an unsuccessful trip to Utrecht to try to mat my photos myself, I was hot and tired and was more likely to yield an xacto knife as a weapon than to go be social. Luckily for Damien and me, we chose to go meet our friend Will + the What Cheer? Brigade out at the High Dive.

We met Will in Boston on the Okkervil tour. He's the genius behind their album artwork, as well as others. Though the course of that show, he and Damien bonded, I fell in love with his lady-friend Joelle, and when we exchanged addresses he really meant it. After getting a care package from him last year, we asked him to design our wedding invitations. They are so incredible, so heartfelt, unique, and above all else, beautiful. Needless to say, this is a friend you leave the house for, shoddy mood be damned.

We got there just in time to find them taking over the streets of Fremont:

But they really shine in a small space:

We sat and talked with Will, recounting ideas for artwork and alternative living spaces. Before too long, the band reconvened and began marching back down the street.

They played in front of Lenin:

Before moving on to the troll:

Chop Chop escaped his costume:

The police looked on, but let them proceed. Neighbors came out and watched in awe. Cameras appeared all over. They battled back and forth, song for song, with a group of Seattle musicians with a similar vision. Damien described it as "transforming" to see so much energy, enthusiasm, and talent in one spot - let alone one impromptu spot in the middle of the night.

I wish we could've stayed later, seen more. A stranger walked past us as we got to our car, and softly said, "I wish things like that happened more often."

Me, too.

Busy birds

2008-07-15T17:06:00.000-07:00

Another awesome weekend. Even without all the SP20 events. For that, I just read all of general bonkers coverage and pretend I was there.

For us, it was family weekend. A lazy Saturday morning [see also: a late, non-family oriented Friday night for me] and we were off to Remlinger Farms.

The rides were not as sweet as our visit to Wild Waves on Thursday, but it was nice to get out of the city for a moment. Damien doesn't believe me when I say I want a house in Fall City.

Having said that, downtown's pretty hard to resist when it involves views like this:

Moby and Paige celebrated their engagement with friends, family, and a marvelous rooftop barbecue.

They told the story of their engagement, and we toasted them with chocolate donuts:

Sunday was the "Reading Rainbow" themed birthday party for Miss Lauren Hoffman. She surprised her guests by bringing them gifts - everyone got a book as a party favor. She proved, once again, that I'm not very good at Catchphrase [I answered right when the clues involved the Blood Brothers though!] and I had to call it an early night before midnight.

Monday meant more of the working, but I got off early enough to celebrate Bastille Day with Jessie Kaye. We lounged in the backyard, gossiping and snacking. Jessie's full photo set of the goodness can be found here.

As the sun set, it was off to Izzfest. It was amazing to see Linda's so full of familiar faces. Izzy's a damn good excuse to spend an evening with old friends.

We did not have any winning numbers.

But it felt like a victory nonetheless.

Tonight, after work, I will go home and do absolutely nothing. I love it. This bird needs a nap.

Fourth, Fifth, Sixth

2008-07-07T19:25:00.000-07:00

Fourth:

BBQ at Juniper Creek. Fireworks on the rooftop of the Biltmore. Front lawn lounging.

Fifth:

Rental cars and speeding tickets. True love and a Touch of Country.

Sixth:

Marathon drives and dreaming up new adventures.

... and the livin' is easy

2008-07-01T18:17:00.000-07:00

The past few weekends have been dreamy. Sunny afternoons spent making fresh pico de gallo; endless chopping while Damien sings along to old KISS records. Most of my free time has been spent in the kitchen trying to master new raw food recipes. Turns out I'm a great cook, now that I'm not actually cooking anything.

Saturday we hiked Tiger Mountain. Damien is an incredibly good sport to be dragged uphill when it's 93 degrees outside. He carried a giant ziplock bag of ice that made him the envy of every hiker we passed. There will be photos of that gorgeous trail just as soon as I can successfully make it to the top and be willing to cart my precious camera on my back. In a perfect world, I'd make it up there once every week.

Sunday we got to take Mr. Miles to the beach as a part of Nathanial's all-day birthday celebration. His hosts of "aunts" and "uncles" have been waiting to spend time with him, and he was greeted with frisbees and water toys and badminton sets. No one got a sunburn, which is still my guidepost for a successful day. Late evening the residents of 'Juniper Creek' hosted a barbecue in Thanny's honor. It was the perfect summer afternoon, and Nathanny [aka the Fabulous] was showered in love.

It's strange to me now to think I wasn't much of a 'summer' person before I met Damien. Now I love the chance to be out in the sunshine, to take his son to the beach, to hike up a mountain when it's too hot to move. They say that love changes you, but I never realized they meant in ways you could never predict.

One of these mornings
You're goin' to rise up singing
Then you'll spread your wings
And you'll take the sky

West coast

2008-06-17T12:44:00.000-07:00

When Damien first told me he'd be going on tour with Jeremy Enigk, I knew I'd find a way to be there, one way or another. In the end it was as simple as a cheap one way ticket and some gracious accommodation on the part of my coworkers. In order to spend time with friends and family, I flew down to Los Angeles a day before he arrived.

Within an hour of landing I'd found some much needed raw food and a dose of Venice Beach.

From there to Culver City and the home of my Aunt and Uncle. I wish I had a whole week to spend there on that tree-lined street, in the company of my mother's sister. As it was we had a lovely afternoon in the sunshine before I was off to my next destination.

I spent the evening in the company of my dear friend Amanda, a former Seattlite. Naturally I insisted on going by the Cha Cha, but a 4 am wakeup call left me too tired for even a photobooth session. The next morning we brunched at Real Food Daily [my first of three visits there in three days] and I tried desperately not to stargaze.

Once Damien arrived it was a blur. Freeways, bastardly gps systems, wanting to see everything in Los Angeles in a period of 48 hours. We ate gorgeous vegan meals and caught up on weeks spent apart. His manager Molly graciously hosted us for all three days. My goal of hiking Runyon Canyon never really came about, but it's just another excuse to return to LA.

The show at Spaceland was packed and a bit rowdy - at least on a Damien Jurado scale. The venue insisted on keeping the jukebox on in their smoking room; with two solo acoustic performers that evening, one would think they might take it down a notch. As it was, the sound bled in and over most of Damien's show from my merch post. And I was at least able to hear the crowd singing along with "In Circles" during Jeremy's set, a moment that I will treasure for years to come.

It's hard to say much about San Francisco, given that we were there all of 12 hours. We ate a gorgeous meal Herbivore. We stayed at the Pheonix, and the outdoor pool taunted me and my lack of time. Cafe du Nord was wonderful, and the people we met that evening had such extraordinary stories that I cried more than once.

Salem was a blink, but a lovely one. I pretended I was going to drive, but handed over the wheel and feel asleep two hours in. Damien played a newer venue to an intimate crowd, and the setlist was unbelievable. Songs he never plays live made an appearance - "Ghost of David," "Eyes for Windows." The crowd was smaller than many of the other shows that tour, but the people we met were so earnest and so kind. I found the nearest hippie mart and managed to create a dinner.

The next day was Portland, my old home sweet home. We went straight to Veganopolis - and yes, if you're noticing a theme, we've dubbed this our "Jammin' Vegan Food" tour of the West Coast. The sweet staff at the Jupiter let us check in early, and I tried to count the number of times I've stayed there now.

Dante's can be kind of a smokey little den, and it wasn't my favorite place to end the tour. However, we did get the awesome news that Bryan Free would also be on the bill. I've been a fan of his for years and don't get to see him nearly enough. I spent much of the evening catching up with A. Dials and resisting the siren song of indoor smoking. It felt too abrupt to have the tour come to a close, having seen only three shows.

The next day, our day off, was heaven. Lazy brunch and hours at Powell's, visiting all the places I used to call home. We sat in the sunshine and drove along scenic routes of the city. Before heading home we stocked up at Food Fight. The drive home would've been wistful if we hadn't been rushing to Father's Day and time with our much-loved families.

The urge to get back in the car, though, has not yet abated.

Quality

2008-05-31T20:38:00.000-07:00

While far from the best photo I've taken - grainy and soft, not well lit despite ample ambient light - I believe this is my new favorite photo. Maybe I'm biased, and love it only because I love the people in it.

It was taken at the McLeod Residence while Troubletown played, at an evening of readings and music curated by Ghost Gallery. Sadly, the readings - especially the works of Miss Lauren Hoffman - took a mental and emotional toll, and I wasn't able to stay to see the Dutchess and the Duke. A shame, given that I think they might be my new favorite band.

At least I was there long enough to take the photo above, and a few others here.

This sounds like a livejournal

2008-05-29T12:17:00.000-07:00

An ode to a dear friend in vague cryptic terms. See also: why I cried at Sasquatch.

///

Sunday night I drove past your [our] old apartment and missed you so much I had to pull the car over. In retrospect, I wonder if it was almost the same moment he asked you to marry him. Is our spooky psychic thing still intact, thousands of miles away? I'm never in that old neighborhood anymore, and it's full to the brim with memories. Those last few months we'd ever be single ladies, though we had no idea at the time. I'd sit on your front steps on the phone with some bastardly disaster, coming in and crying to you about the general futility of love.

Out of all of the late night conversations, the one that stands out the most is listening to Built to Spill. You Were Right spoke specifically to your once-broken heart. I would later listen to that same song on a snowy night in Cal Anderson park; it wasn't even my sad song, but I cried to a point I feared I shouldn't be in public. Let's face it, it's not a cheery tune:

You were wrong when you said
Everything's gonna be alright
You were right when you said
All that glitters isn't gold
You were right when you said
All we are is dust in the wind
You were right when you said
We are all just bricks in the wall
And when you said manic depression's a frustrating mess
You were right when you said
You can't always get what you want
You were right when you said
It's a hard rain's gonna fall
You were right when you said
We're still running against the wind
And life goes on after the thrill of living is gone
You were right when you said
This is the end
Do you ever think about it?

Contrast that scene with a sunny Memorial Day afternoon at the Gorge. Luckily I had giant sunglasses to disguise the public display of emotion this go 'round. This time I wasn't crying because the lyrics were true; it was because they absolutely weren't.

You were on my mind as I stood in the crowd. Though I didn't know yet that you were betrothed, I did know that our lives had changed so much since we shared that precious studio. So much for the better, immeasurably so. We both found the love of our respective lives - and within three months of each other, began to plan weddings. I'm so excited for you, and I can't wait to be there for this landmark. We must toast to Doug Martsch, and to the fact that he was wrong.

True to my word

2008-05-27T23:53:00.000-07:00

Like I said, I really will take Virgin America to LA from here on out. Guess it helps to throw fancy parties and pay Thurston Moore many dollars to play. Or just charging $80 and having really cool pink lights in the plane, either one. It's ten days until I get to go meet Damien in Los Angeles. I feel guilty trying to speed through such glorious days lately, but even our apartment feels unfamiliar without him in it.

After assisting Jenny J with an absolutely perfect Golden Gardens wedding on Sunday, I found out I was leaving earlier than expected for the Gorge. As a part of Kay Kay's crew, I had access to Sasquatch on Monday, though sadly sans camera. I frantically packed sunscreen and ran to Whole Foods to stock up on raw goodies/hippie chow, only to find out we'd be leaving Monday morning after all. Par for the course, but it meant I got to spend a night curled up at 'Juniper Creek' - the pseudonym for the house where a third of the band resides. On an hour of sleep, I answered at 4:15 wake up call and watched people load gear into U.S.E.'s borrowed van while I drank a green smoothie. I never claimed to be the most helpful part of the "crew."

The day, all in all, was perfect. We got there hours earlier than needed, and sat in the grass pondering just how hot it would get. We wandered backstage and studied the schedule over and over, trying to figure out just how much of the Cave Singers we could see and still make it onstage thirty minutes later. Other than a few key moments the whole day went by in a blur. I drank over 200 ounces of water and watched Nate Mooter eat a worm. I really, really wished I had never quit smoking. I cried at Built to Spill, but that's a story for another time. I texted my fiancee shitty camera phone images of the absolutely stunning scenery and wished desperately he were just there to see it. I made useless threats about harming members of the Mars Volta a band I actually admire musically - but trying to destroy the means by which someone makes a living isn't "punk" [as was argued in their defense] and neither is getting your paycheck from Live Nation. Beth and I danced to Kay Kay's set in the afternoon sunshine, and at dinner I declared it my favorite show of theirs to date. Somehow I did not get a sunburn. The Flaming Lips were so intense during the first two songs that I hit overload and had to turn and march up the hill towards the van. Teletubbies and naked women and every antic I'd expected of them and more. Sean Pecknold took so many amazing photos and I can only hope for more. I drove as far as Ellensburg before having to admit I was not the best captain for that ship, and fell asleep somehow in the fetal position with my seat belt on. I said goodbye to no one [which I realized the next day in horror at my lack of tact] and drove home for to take a much needed and totally gratifying shower. I fell asleep for twelve hours, and could've used twelve more.

My friend Michael wrote an amazing article about Damien and Jeremy's tour in the Boston Pheonix. I read it aloud to Damien on the phone tonight, and cried at the end. This tour seems like such a milestone. Both of them have new albums due on September 9th, and this trip seems like a pause to reflect on the past decade and a half before moving forward. Both playing solo sets, both drawing from a huge back catalog of songs. I cannot wait to be a part of these shows, and to drive up the West coast with my very best friend for the very first time.

But for now, it's time for sleeping. Christ returns to visit from New York tomorrow, and with perfect timing Wild Orchid Children and Strong Killings are playing a show that promises to become a homecoming party. Best to rest while rest is still an option.

xo

Hoquiam // Nectar

2008-05-08T11:40:00.000-07:00

Here's what the Weekly's Aja Pecknold had to say...

"The songs, inspired by the years the boys lived in Grays Harbor, Washington roll out like an eerie fog of memories, moments culled from the past and spread thin across grey ocean waters."

They're playing at Nectar tonight. Would love to see you there...

xo

Elsewhere

2008-04-25T11:09:00.000-07:00

When I'm not here, I'm here, or sometimes here. And as for this weekend? I'll be none of the above. I'll be shooting film and climbing Tiger Mountain, but I won't be on a computer. At least not if I can help it.

xo

Sprung

2008-04-15T11:21:00.000-07:00

Saturday was dreamy. After 4 hours of long leisurely conversation over tea, I made my way down to 20twenty.

The afternoon started with a good old fashioned cake walk:

Except that the cakes are totally unlike anything I ever saw in my elementary school gymnasium. Jamie, who is also the sweet songstress of Husbands, Love Your Wives, will also be making our wedding cake this fall, and I can't imagine a more magical dessert to serve. There's literally love poured into each one, with hand extracted botanical essences and fresh flowers on top.

Amy Blaschke recently traded in our NW rain for Santa Monica's clear skies. Luckily we'll still get visits from time to time, and I sat down front and center to get my fix while I could. Damien spent the rest of the weekend intermittently exclaiming that the richness of her voice made sounded like a record; it felt timeless, as if she were singing from 1973 . I can't wait to see how a geographical shift translates in her beloved songwriting.

It's been too long since I've had the chance to see Tiny Vipers play. Six months? More? Either way, this was the perfect time/place. I'd read an interview once where Jesy said her aim with these songs was to interject some much-lacking magic into daily life. That's exactly what this was. Her last song, played live for the first time that day, was hypnotic; bear with me, because this is some serious hippie talk here, but it felt like everyone in the room must've been connected under that spell.

<

Sunday we proved that rain can't ruin a good barbecue. Racheal celebrated her [belated] birthday in all-out all day goodness. We also learned that future bbq purchases should favor function over style - our adorable little football left something to be desired. Like cooked food, perhaps.

Lauren made psychedelic pudding.

Thanny brought and destroyed a coconut.

We moved on later that night towards King Cobra.

I love you, Rae! Thanks for being such a wonderful excuse to celebrate all day long.

This week the Fleet Foxes come home from a looong tour, and I cannot wait to see them play; I was even considering the trek to Portland to see them twice. I may have to skip the Doug Fir though, thanks to a fantastic invite from Ghost Gallery. There will be an opening Saturday evening at the new Belltown salon, Stylus. And somewhere in the next few days I'll be figuring out a way to join Damien for the West Coast portion of his upcoming tour...

Virgin

2008-04-09T17:28:00.000-07:00

Sleep is overrated; and though the weekend left no time for relaxation [photo assist for photojj, 24 PDX run], there's no better reason to dive headfirst into a work week than a free show. It's a given that you'll make it when the free show is Thurston Moore.

Kerri Harrop reminded people what a red carpet looks like, and the number of paparazzi seemed on par for one to each celebrity judge. How often do Seattlites attend an event with actual schwag bags? I love it!

Even if Bamboo Shoots were the worst band I'll have to sit thru in 2008, I do appreciate the sheer desperation of jumping offstage and playing bongos in the crowd to try to generate interest. It was worth it to make it to see Thurston - midway thru the last song I realized it had been at least five minutes since I'd taken a picture, hypnotized in the front row staring straight at nothing.

All photos up at seattleweeklydotcom

Thank you, Virgin Airlines... you'll be my first choice to LAX, I swear.

Milestones

2008-04-03T20:00:00.000-07:00

In the suburbs east of Seattle, I grew up studying every detail of the liner notes to every Nirvana album I could get my little paws on. I distinctly remember seeing people being turned away at the door of the sold out Sunny Day Real Estate show at Ground Zero in Bellevue. I could rattle off the key moments where their roster intersects with my youth, but it would resemble the same series of events that most of my peers have already experienced. Suffice it to say: Sub Pop has meant quite a lot to me over the years.

Beloved 'Rocket Queen' columnist Hannah Levin contacted me to see if I would be interested in shooting Sub Pop's 20th anniversary party at Hattie's on Wednesday night. When I bought my camera [almost a year ago to the day] I wouldn't have guessed I would end up there. I can't say that Jon Poneman and Kim Thayil were thrilled to have my flash interject itself into the middle of their conversation; but when Megan Jasper handed me an "S-P 20" button with a smile, I couldn't help but think that the hopelessly awkward 12 year old version of myself would be pretty pleased.

Photo slideshow is up at seattleweeklydotcom

[It should be noted that my sweetheart, an s-p alum, finds my total devotion more than a wee bit nerdy - it's okay if you do, too.]

It's been a while

2008-03-24T19:59:00.000-07:00

Things have been busy.

Road trips.

Sunday nights with old friends.

Bands have been born.

Books have been written, though none by me.

Art was shared, and celebrated.

My work week starts again in just a few hours, and I can't say I'll spend my last few hours of free time sitting at a computer. Each picture above has it's own miraculous story, and there's so much good news to share. Words don't necessarily come when willed, though, so those tales are to be tabled for the moment. It's dark outside already, but I'm going to bask in the remaining Easter glow we have here in our teeny little home. Hope this finds you equally well.

Lost rolls

2008-03-04T19:14:00.000-08:00

Well, not so much lost as neglected. My Holga, true to form, broke open half way thru my day at the Puyallip Fair. Amazingly, a few items survived.

And a trip to the coast with Damien, one I was convinced would be too dark for anything, actually yielded a few grainy and grey shots.

Of course, the 5 year old mystery 35mm turned out to be blank, so it wasn't a total victory. Next up is a Canon AE-1 that's older than I am and film that expired when I was in kindergarten. If it will stop raining in Astoria, it should be just perfect.

Snapshots

2008-02-27T14:59:00.000-08:00

Thank you to Erin Skipley, aka Bellatrix Studio, aka Yoshimi Designs, for making it a point to have a camera on hand during Autumn's recent Seattle shoot for Death Cab for Cutie. While I did I have my own on hand, my nerves got the better of me and I hardly captured a thing.

My lone contribution:

It was a memorable enough day for me that it hardly needs photos, but I was thrilled to see Erin's regardless. Thanks to Autumn, Brandy, Eden, and Lily for such a great experience.

Skylark

2008-02-26T14:15:00.000-08:00

Walking home from the Mountain Goats show on Saturday night, I felt alienated from the weekend crowds surrounding me. I'd left the show only 6 songs in, unable to persevere through a sold out crowd at Neumo's. During Jeffrey Lewis's set, I felt like the only cynic in a crowd of smiling swooning fans. Shows with that much emotional content, clever lyrics, that's what gets me going - normally. Yet I felt like every cheer for his Daniel Johnston-esque drawings or K records infused songs alienated me further from the sea of humanity. I'm praying it was just the overcrowded venue and not some permanent onset of ennui; I'm much more suited to being Pollyanna than some purveyor of nonstop snark.

So it was in this disjointed mood that I walked away from the venue and opted to stay on Broadway for the walk home. As I passed the Bonney Watson funeral home, I stopped for a moment to stare at the signage and their fleur de lis logo. Almost two years ago, I walked past that sign on the way to get my own iconic flower, for totally unrelated reasons. I remember pausing and noting the fact that we'd share the same motif now, and that my tattoo would always be connected for me with a concept of my own mortality. A potentially morbid thought, but far from a depressing one. A sense of impermanence, for me, only lends greater value to the moment at hand.

In other words, every thought on my mind is a bit weightier than usual, for better or for worse. I can't say it's not warranted, with the recent influx of change and goodness. But it's odd to be back in a place where I've got a constant narrative in my head, a conscious examination of even mundane activities, and a hundred little miracles scattered throughout each week. That must be how I found myself in a familiar cathedral on a sunny weekend morning, sitting in the southern pews and dressed in my Sunday best. Don't question Guadalupe, man.

As for our new home, it's perfection. We consume books and public television voraciously. We make art in the most outdated fashion; reel to reels and expired film to suit the feel of the abandoned geography that inspires us. Proximity to friends has increased our time with them roughly 300%. We've named the sweet space, smudged it, created little altars of what is held dearest. I used to listen to the song "Skylark" longingly; now, it feels like we've found all the things that the song searched for. Certainly one evening of disbelief is to be expected amongst so much wonderment. I'm just sorry it happened just in time for me to miss Ben Gibbard's appearance with John Darnielle. Ah, well. You can't win all the time.

Lucky // stiff

2008-02-19T11:15:00.000-08:00

I wish I had a badge to wear, a shiny gold star emblazoned with the words, "I did it!" This past week seemed like some sort of modern mythic quest. My own little gauntlet was to make it through a household move - a seemingly innocuous task. Combined with work and a Valentine off in Spain though, it feels like a trophy-worthy accomplishment.

In one 48 hour period, I worked over 34 hours. As I muttered this into the phone on Saturday morning, Lauren challenged me that this isn't physically possible. Unable to move from a prone position, I think my body concurred. Regardless of whether or not taking on extra work this particular week was rational, it was immensely rewarding. Luck had it that the esteemed Ms. DeWilde was back in Seattle, this time for the dudes who will always be in my top ten. Always. The team that was compiled to make the shoot happen was phenomenal, from people in LA to those who flew up from and those right here in Seattle. I will spare everyone the overflowing praise, but suffice it to say that my day ended in slightly mortifying tears of exhausted joy.

Next time, I will not plan anything for at least a day after.

Of course the annual panty party was that very same day, and when I ducked in for a cameo my time there was brief but adventurous. I opened my gorgeous gift, smoked half a cigarette, and heard the memorable line "Everybody put your titties away!" Tradition dictates that most ladies try on their new gifts, and so it was that 40 girls were half naked when one guest took a bump on the head and EMTs were en route. Bright red blood against the sherbet green floor, and a sweet lady who would have one scary trip to Harborview before being released the very next morning. Many in attendance have had their fill of life altering falls already this year, and many prayers of gratitude went out upon hearing she would be just fine. I finally tucked in at 1 am, just after a call from Barcelona, shaking so hard I probably shouldn't've driven.

And the move? That still loomed in front of me throughout all of it. Luckily I had visits from my family, PCC snacks, and two nice guys who were well paid to move ALL of it. Last night my first guests to the new apartment descended just like little angels. Angels with spacial reasoning talents. Nonetheless, it is d-o-n-e, and my dearest friends have already moved into the little bungalow I left behind. My epic week is behind me, with only a cascade of bruises left behind as battle scars. I'm still a little stiff, but there's no doubt in my mind how lucky I am.

Onward, upward, goodness

2008-02-12T18:02:00.000-08:00

There's no place to walk in our home right now. No way to hide from all the boxes. These aren't the well packed boxes of previous moves; not labeled, categorized, organized. This is random speed packing, as we move towards a sweet new spot in the world and one step closer to the University of Washington. I hate this point of a transition, when you have to find a way to be comfortable amidst chaos, living out of a suitcase and eating from paper plates. Amidst all of it, I'm [happily] as busy as I've ever been.

A sampling:

Saturday I had the chance to assist PhotoJJ [check out her updated blog] on one of her shoots. Jenny has been a huge inspiration to me, and though I've had the chance to work for her on other shoots, this was a jump for me in terms of knowledge and skill. I also got to work with the uber talented Laura Musselman that day - it takes a lot of hands to make these things happen. I got home exhausted and overjoyed at the end of the day - Jenny is just magic to work for, and I feel like a kid who is just giddy about learning for the first time.

Damien will already be in Spain by the time most people read this; and when he returns, Hoquiam will take center stage for a bit. I'm dreaming about handmade EPs and all ages shows. The reel to reel will have it's own prominent spot at the new abode, and hopefully somewhere in three rolls of medium format film there will be the perfect new SMLR artwork.

Sometimes it still blows my mind to work at a company that is progressive, creative, and actively involved in the community. Right now, VAIN downtown has made a donation of space to help a local artist and dear friend. Ballard jumped at the chance to help out Dancing on the Valentine with a raffle donation for Jenny George's annual Leukemia benefit. I love this place.

This weekend promises loads of equally good things. If I can manage not to drown in boxes, that is.

Basket Pandas

2008-02-05T14:10:00.000-08:00

Friday night the Space Needle was lit up in red; I assumed it was for Valentine's Day, starting right on February 1st. Turns out it only stayed that one night, and I've no idea why. A little research might provide an answer, but Damien and I prefer to think it was just for us. It did feel like the whole city was lit up with love.

Thanks for a magical birthday, everyone.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

2008-01-27T15:46:00.000-08:00

Last night I missed the Cave Singers; my long week and a deep crowd of people were too much midway through Whalebones. After a few rounds of working my way from one end of Neumo's to the other, I admitted defeat. Luckily I didn't miss J. Tillman, who played solo last night. Without a backing band, the strength of his voice highlighted the insights of his lyrics. Josh even charmed the chatty crowd with jests, saying his performance could be a drinking game for those not sufficiently entertained; a shot for each "nebulous spiritual reference."

I've heard Tillman's closing song, Crooked Roof, roughly 900 times. It still never ceases to have the same effect on me though, and I sniffed off the threat of becoming teary eyed in the front row.

Whalebones killed it, and their re-released Morning Man EP called to me to buy it all over again. Their new bass player is captivating, and the band as a whole always seems as if they dropped right in from a different era to play rock and roll like it never got tired.

I wish I could've seen how the night concluded, but this week was non-stop starting way back on Monday at Chop Suey. Throw Me The Statue's final night of their January residency closed with a pseudonymed Dave Bazan and Damien Jurado. My night closed with compression starting our car. Sleep was a rare and precious item throughout the week.

Friday morning got an early 7 am start as I set out to PA for Autumn DeWilde - a long and amazing day. My contributions had nothing to do with the art being created, mainly working on coordinating, catering, transporting, and heavy lifting. But it was astounding to watch her work, how quickly she thinks and moves and sees. I celebrated afterwards with a vegan dinner with my dearest, only to get home and cry like a baby at an episode of Grey's Anatomy*. I'm going to go ahead and guess that exhaustion had set in.

How lovely to arrive at Sunday.

*IN MY DEFENSE, IT'S THE EPISODE WHERE THE KID HAS NO EARS AND GETS THEM 'BUILT' PRO BONO. BUT STILL.

Trudging

2008-01-22T13:50:00.000-08:00

I thought Spring was the season for dramatic change, for cleaning out, for a vernal shift in direction. I would seem then that mine has sprung then in the middle of Winter. Dusty old dreams brushed themselves off with renewed hopes of possibility, but right alongside them are the demands and limitations of how one completes such tasks. Everything suddenly seems insurmountable. Which, of course, it probably isn't; in the interim, it does little to alleviate the feelings. How absurd to make such a speech when the catalyst was actually GOOD NEWS.

This week I will trudge [definition: to move with purpose] through as best I can to make it to a bright shiny spot amidst the heavy gloom of change. Like the proverbial pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, Friday and Saturday are waiting to amaze me with their goodness. Friday the photos I've seen in books will come to life in front of me, working for someone I never thought I'd even meet. Bonus points for quality time with Jimenez, too! Saturday, Neumo's becomes a convergence zone for 3 of my favorite things: J. Tillman, Whalebones, and The Cave Singers. Better yet, it marks one year since Rocky Votolato, Dave Bazan, and Damien Jurado performed at the Triple Door, and my life changed in ways it never occurred to me to dream of.

Such sweet things to look forward to. Ultimately, damn little to complain about.

White waves

2008-01-15T13:40:00.000-08:00

Hoquiam, WA.

As one of ten coastal destinations on a rainy Monday drive, Hoquiam may have been the bleakest of the bunch, all of them rough around the edges towns. Aberdeen may be equally aesthetically challenged, but at least there are signs of life there. As for neighboring Hoquiam, small houses show so much wear that it's anyone's guess as to whether or not it is actually occupied. The weather yesterday was more or less on par with what one could expect to find there; wet, to-the-bones chilly, and overlaid with a shade of grey.

Damien shares my deep seated need to get the hell out of dodge, any where, any way. In this case, it meant a full tank of gas and twelve hours of circular driving. Tuesday's responsibilities awaited us, but for Monday we could drive where we pleased. We agreed upon a music rotation of 5+5 - both our ipods on shuffle; five songs on mine, five songs on Damien's. It never ceases to create conversations given our very distinct tastes. It also results in unadulterated glee on Damien's part as his rotation leans a little heavily on Yoko Ono.

Our last attempted trip to the Washington coast was cut short by an accident which closed the only road leading out to Ocean Shores. There was a painful pause listening to J. Tillman's Crooked Roof, and a decision to turn home and save the history lessons for another day rather than search out another destination. That drive wasn't even a year ago, but it feels like ten. This one started rather theatrically driving across the viaduct listening to Hendrix's version of All Along the Watchtower, an ominous soundtrack to the changing city's skyline. [No, not just the city's changing skyline.]

We made our way to Ocean Shores and drove to each residence of Damien's past. We looked at the bedroom windows he once sneaked out of, and the places he ran off to. We drove to the resort hotel which was the stage for an event that would only become more momentous with time. In a rear service entrance, Kurt Cobain would hand him a mix tape - Butthole Surfers, Sonic Youth, Flipper, Fang, the Melvins, Meat Puppets, and Kurt's own band Fecal Matter. Bands that shaped the beliefs of a young man just relocated from many different places, none so bleak as the coast of Washington.

Though there must be exceptions to this rule, the town seems almost entirely composed of empty lots and disheartening trailers. The ocean which dominates the west edge of town is imposing; the enormous scope of it, the larger than life crests, the wet sand up to the grass line. The term "beach" hardly seems to apply here. While the McDonalds in town is brightly clean and filled with lighthouse knickknacks on display, most of the town feels weighed down by the winter season and the corresponding lack of income.

Everett True's recent Nirvana biography explores how Aberdeen influenced Kurt and inevitably the music he would write. Sluggish industry, high rates of alcoholism and depression; the banks of the Wishkah really do run muddy, and the landscape bleeds into somber tones. In the same way, the characters that haunt Damien today were born in this town. They drive the two lane roads that stretch out to the only grocery store or elementary school for miles. They sit in taverns of hopelessness and feel the distinct indignity of living below the poverty line while tourists pour through town on an inevitable migration.

When not interfered with by civilization, the landscape here is terribly beautiful. The terrain shows evidence of near-constant battering, with jagged edges and bending trees. North of Pacific Beach we dared to step out of the car. Just before the beach pines huddled in groups, creating caves underneath that suggested either the home of a wood sprite or the perfect place to bury a body. I took a few shots with my toy camera that will likely turn out underexposed and grainy, but it seemed an appropriate medium to capture that space in. While a part of me wanted to stand there and stare for days on end, the wind blew with such force that I could hardly stand straight. I dashed back to heated spaces without the time for reflection that I would've liked.

As we drove away, Shearwater's White Waves came shuffling along.

"The things that we did here will never die"

More so than any photo I could ever take, the lives and heartbreak and misdeeds of this region are captured by my sweetheart's visions. Stories that took root before he could ever think to tell them, these white waves echo in albums yet to be sung. See if you hear it in Hoquiam.

Strong Killings

2008-01-12T13:02:00.000-08:00

Aptly named.

Last night's show at the Sunset was like a breath of fresh loud motherfucking air. Next time I see them, the camera stays home, for fear of getting swung at. Damien and I stayed up late talking about the strength of Mooter's stage presence, the sheer genuine expression of the band. Is it a vast departure from other bands in the same vein [Black Flag, Mclusky]? No. But it's played with passion and played well, and I couldn't hear myself talk after.

///

The mail has been full of surprises lately - electronic and of the more visceral variety. It bodes well for 2008. Thanks to everyone who celebrated with me today.

xo

Escape

2008-01-09T13:01:00.000-08:00

Christmas was a dream.

New Year's was a sweet subdued celebration that reflected the changes of the year.

Nonetheless, all the holidays left me exhausted. I've made some lofty goals [not resolutions] for 2008, but hardly had the energy to go about daily living. Rather than relaxing, I tend to find my inspiration again by overdoing things, like running off for 48 hours in Portland.

As soon as we got into the city, I gave Damien directions straight to Powell's. I picked up a copy of Yeti and later discovered it featured a tour diary by none other than Will Sheff. This certainly didn't make me miss Okkervil any less. As I wandered around the stationary searching for my 2008 Moleskine, D pointed out a sign for an exhibit on the third floor - photos by none other than Autumn DeWilde.

I'd purchased her book of photos of Elliott Smith for the lovely Jenny Jimenez [who has worked with Autumn] but had yet to see it myself. I sat and stared at the exhibit, bought an autographed copy, and marveled in her work.

The rest of the night we spent visiting with friends, watching bad movies, and driving around my old neighborhood. It's strange to visit now and realize that there's no way to go back - too much ties the both of us to Seattle. Nonetheless, even brief trips there feel like a breath of fresh air, and perhaps that's all I need. At home last night, I dove headfirst into my 2008 projects. I cracked the spine on Ulysses, and poured out 1,000 words. I sent off photos for publication. I took a giant nap, and woke up feeling completely refreshed for the first time this year.

Unscrewed

2007-12-31T15:34:00.000-08:00

New Year's Eve preparations prevent me from recounting the events of last night... so photos must suffice to explain all the magic.

A night like that bodes well for a new year. Much love to all.

xo

What if soft rock didn't suck?

2007-12-27T16:16:00.000-08:00

Christmas Eve Eve was a palpably grey day. I heard the final album version of Grand Archives' song "Sleepdriving" just as I needed to take the 156th Street exit off of I-90. It was almost physically impossible to not stay on the freeway while that song played; it is my new quintessential "get the fuck out of town with purpose" track. The one that convinces me it is okay to drive to Spokane in the middle of the night - with or without reason. But let's back up; I'm getting ahead of myself. This isn't an emotional recounting of road trips of yore. This is a discussion of why I'm falling in love with The Grand Archives.

***

Flash back to a Thursday night at home, around 1 am. It's too late to start a movie, and since I adamantly refuse to get cable, there's nothing on. Scrolling through the mediocrity of late night talk shows, I stumble upon a flash of Kenny Loggins on channel 16. Turns out, it is a masterpiece of an infomercial - Time Life brings you Soft Rock. Some of these songs are genuinely amazing: America, Hall and Oates, Fleetwood Mac. Some of them are inherently cringeworthy - do a youtube search for Exile's "Kiss You All Over" if you dare to see what I mean. There's something just a little off about many of the songs, as if they can only be enjoyed with a hint of irony.

For me, I like my music on the up and up. I'm not into kitsch, and I border on perilously genuine. What if classic soft rock, that big warm anthemic music, was done in a way that it wouldn't make you embarrassed to be caught listening to it?

***

The dissolution of any of Mat Brooke's previous projects saddened me greatly; I've alluded to it enough in the past that I think I can skip over it now. So it was wonderful news the day I heard he was playing with [DJ] Curtis Hall and Jeff Montano. There were many nights at Redwood that I'd pester them after practice, curious as to what they were working on. They were tight lipped, and in my mind I always imagined something more in the vein of Montano's former band, the New Mexicans. [Interestingly enough, Rob and Creighton of the New Mexicans now fill out Band of Horses out in Carolina with Ben Bridwell.] When I got my first listen a few months later, via their myspace page, I was surprised - but pleasantly.

There was a surreal and magical show at Neumo's roughly a month later, an intimate gathering with a curtain dividing the show room into a smaller half. I did that thing that I do when I really truly love a band, and I got all teary eyed while standing in the front row singing along. At 27, a moment like that is rare, and it takes a lot to make it happen. Archives shot up into public attention with a slot opening for Modest Mouse and a contract with Sub Pop. By the time I saw them play Block Party, I was a little concerned. Maybe it was the hot crowded room, or that it took me 20 minutes to squeeze my way in, but it wasn't working for me. Nonetheless, keeping hope alive, I publicly stated that I anticipated Grand Archives' debut to be one of the best of the coming year's releases.

***

Santa was good to me this year. Days before stockings filled up, I got my eager hands on a promo of The Grand Archives. I stared at it, and stared. I waited for the "perfect" first listen. There were high hopes hung on this album, and I couldn't stand the thought of feeling let down after so much anticipation. Finally, on a Sunday drive just before Christmas, it seemed like the right time to play it.

Having only heard the four-song demo prior to this point, it sounded like the band had transformed while recording at MRX. There was a charm to the band's slightly off kilter vocals in both the demos and the few live performances I was able to see. The album is smooth as glass though, luscious and pretty as can be. Songs like "George Kaminski" were taken from party anthem to sweet eulogy, a touching transformation that leaves me assured I'll be listening to this time and time again. The album still has remnants of the music that influenced the band to form - Beach Boys, Crosby, Stills, & Nash - giving it an intrinsic pop core. I'd heard rumors of great effort being put into the percussive elements, and it shows right from the first two songs. Unique and assertive, the drums never overwhelm the vocals. Ron Lewis has a soft touch to his voice, complimenting Brooke's tone. For 5 guys singing, I can only imagine the number of vocal takes the album required, because there's nary a displeasing note. Since my copy comes without liner notes, I can only assume it's Sera Cahoone gracing the album as well.

These songs don't create for me the same visual scope that I've found in previous Brooke compositions; it's not a detraction, but these songs ultimately feel lighter. Then again, isn't that what soft rock is? Grand Archives have created an album that answers the question, "What if soft rock didn't suck?"

Guess it's time for a road trip.

xo

Spooked

2007-12-20T18:13:00.000-08:00

Ever been convinced - and I mean convinced - that there's something good coming down the pike? I can't put my finger on it, only that it's above and beyond the new presents underneath the tree. It's so intangible that I feel like maybe I'm going a bit batty. I'm not one for reading tea leaves or being swayed by superstition, but this feeling can't be dismissed.

////

Growing up, my mother drove a blue Datsun station wagon. Saturday mornings we would drive out to Issaquah, which was then still a no-man's land. There was an airstrip of some sort, and parachuters would come floating back down to earth held aloft by gaudy rainbows. We'd sit on the hood of that old car, eating old fashioned glazed donuts, and just watch. I couldn't've been more than four years old when this tradition took place each weekend. I have no other memories of this time in my life, but that one I can see distinctly.

More and more often lately, I see a flash of a hike I once took at Tiger Mountain; the view from the clearing at the top just pops up out of nowhere. This thought swims around for a split second and vanishes, leaving a glow and a distinct feeling that I'm supposed to be there. There's a curve just after leaving Snoqualmie Falls if you take the back road home thru Fall City, and I feel compelled to get in the car and drive just to take that turn.

At the age of nine I took a day trip to Leavenworth with some family friends. I have absolutely no recollection of the faux German town, despite how memorably odd now know the city to be. Yet I vividly remember blue velour seats and riding on the driver's side of the van on the way home. I looked up at the sky that night, seeing the stars more brightly outside of the city, and envisioned myself being on a train cutting thru the Cascades. Almost two decades later, I still recall that feeling.

Once upon a time I was a Girl Scout, a badge-earning faithful Brownie who went to camp each summer. Camp "River Ranch" sits just behind Remlinger Farms along Lake Langlois. There is a distinct picture in my mind of facing east out across the lake, a grey day just after sunrise but no sun to be seen. There's mist lifting off the lake adding to the haze of the beautifully bland palette. No one is around, and there's no noise of campers in the mess hall or in distant cabins. Trouble is, I couldn't actually have seen this as I see it now. A moment of solitude and reflection in the wee hours of the morning? I was seven years old. At summer camp. But there it is, just like a real memory, and one that calls out to be repeated at that.

//////

There's a tonality to these images; stories waiting to jump out from the backseat or sit beside me at the lake. They're painted in somber tones, but there's no inherent darkness to them. Rather, it's a discreet quiet joy in each moment. Am I supposed to revisit each of these places? Capture them on film? I don't know why they reappear, and with such desire. Nonetheless, there's a sureness in my heart that these memories are hints of something coming in the next 365 days. Sooner than that, even.

Merriest of merry

2007-12-19T15:41:00.000-08:00

Never have I been so excited about a Christmas. Admittedly, I don't remember much about Christmas 1985 just before I turned 6; that may have been amazing. In terms of recent history though, this year wins.

The McLeod holiday party was full of beautiful people and dear friends. The room literally fogged up my glasses each time I snuck back in from having a cigarette. I would've loved to have stayed longer, taken more photos, heard more stories, but all the bodies packed into one sweet space made me a little anxious. Paige and Damien and I hid out at Redwood catching up on the past few weeks, months. More of all of that, as soon as possible.

//////

While our New Year's Eve plans are lovely, I'm not thrilled to be starting a new year. This was the year that Damien and I had our first real chat [at the Crocodile, RIP] and for a host of nights we both went to Havana pretending we weren't there just to see each other. Much love to Aja and Tillman for all the moral support during that era, by the by.

So what is good about the coming year? A host of really spectacular albums, for one. There's already a long list of shows, tours, and new releases in my mind. For as kind as 2007 was to me, I should put a little more faith in oh-eight.

/////

Cheers to all my loved ones who I don't see nearly often enough. Monday night at Sad Bastard, it was at least a glimpse of old times... or perhaps of what's to come. Curled up in booths talking about inspiration, encouragement, and love. Thanks for all the magic. xo

Redundant

2007-12-11T13:29:00.000-08:00

I don't think "best" can be the subject, header, or theme, two posts in a row. But the past few days have nonetheless come quite close.

Time with my girls has become such a rarity lately, so events like Saturday night are even more treasured. Alli Wright, Jenn Kenner, and Paige Stoll all made it out to Ballard to model for a VAIN event - all the details are on the vain.com/blog. There wasn't much time for chatting since it was a busy night of working for me, but just having them there getting all done up was enough for me.

It was nice to actually want to take pictures again, too:

Damien came in mid-day to bring me a surprise; since I wasn't able to model this year for Anna Banana's anniversary fashion show, he bought me the dress I'd loved so much the previous year.

It's a House of Pretty Parlor design; an update on a vintage dress that is so flattering you'd think Anna had made it for me. I remember when she first showed it to me at my fitting, and I thought I could never wear it. Lo and behold, it's pretty much magic, right down to the restored beadwork around the neckline. He even bought a matching ring... all I need is to find a perfect pair of silver pumps to go with, but something tells me the Parlor will have them.

I could've looked on Saturday night when I walked in the door to Anna's celebrations. But in the midst of that many people and that much wonderful noise, it wasn't the best time for shopping per se. Mikey Loggins, aka Lashes, manned the guest list and checked ID's at the door - this was a serious event this year. As petticoats and cloaks swirled around me, I felt a bit like an old bag lady. I'd missed my window to have the magic Christine Cherbonnier apply my makeup, and I was plain faced and worn out from a 12 hour day. It took a moment outside for a heart to heart with Rae before I felt convinced I could stay for a minute. As brief as it was, I'm glad I did.

There were hot ladies in great clothes:

And the kinds of antics only Nanz seems to inspire:

Then I got locked in a backroom with Rae, Jessie, and Beth, but for something that could've been traumatizing [hello, claustrophobia] it might've been the highlight of the night. I took a cab back to Ballard in the wee hours of the morning to the sweet little house I'd missed all day. Sleep was much needed, because the next day it would be time to get our tree.

It snowed as we all hopped in the car to head down to the lot. I've never before had dreams of a White Christmas, but in Seattle, this may be as close as we get. It was magic. It took only minutes to find the perfect one - a Noble Fir only a few inches taller than me. Small house = small tree, but it's perfectly shaped and smells just like Christmas should. The three of us decorated the tree, and after a few mis-starts with the proper garland hanging, it looked pretty damn beautiful by the end. My mother and sister came by to see how it looked, and it felt just like the holidays should - laughter and Christmas music and glowing lights throughout.

I'm in love with the tree, and think it might be my best one ever:

Two nights in a row, we've slept out in the living room to be closer to the lights and tinsel and globes. Presents keep arriving in the mail each day. Could it be the best Christmas ever? Too soon to say, but it's in the running. And to all who set eyes upon this, I truly wish you an equally magical season.

Best week ever

2007-12-07T13:24:00.000-08:00

Today, despite oversleeping a bit, has really been amazing thus far. Here's hoping I didn't just shoot myself in the foot by saying so.

The first email I read this morning was a request from KEXP to use one of my photos for an interview with Ships. Having put photos on hold for the past month or so, it was a nice reminder that I do enjoy doing live music photography, especially for bands I adore. The blog post is here, and you can also find my photo review of their September show here.

I was already running behind and pondering whether I could actually wear sweatpants to work when I went to wake Damien for his day in the studio. Squinting, he told me my phone rang, and I listened to the voicemail from VAIN's fearless leader Victoria Gentry. Turns out, no sweatpants for me, we're doing a photo shoot at 2 pm today. By the time I heard the message, it was 10:52, and I leave for work at 11. Thanks to a failsafe Built by Wendy dress [a gift from the lovely Rebecca Pellman] I was presentable in less than five minutes. Makeup in the car, and a quick flat iron from Jenny Slay at the salon... in about twenty minutes here, we'll see if I look good enough for the camera.

It feels good to be busy, to balance an almost impossible task list and maintain not only sanity but a great mood as well. Three cheers for the best week ever.

Grey. Gray?

2007-12-03T14:29:00.000-08:00

It will not stop raining.

This is not a metaphor, but rather a seeming certainty based on what's going on outside. What's been going on for days now. Windows closed, you can still hear it beating against the exterior of the house, the windows, the pavement. It's not depressing, but it is paralyzing. My clever blue rain boots, the ones with anchors, the lovely gift from Paige this time last year, they've gone and sprung a leak. They are my last hope against weather like this; the certainty of dry feet at least makes it seem like perhaps the task is not insurmountable.

My headaches have returned, either enhancing or caused by the ennui of staying still for a bit. All at once I miss my travels and condemn all the time away as the cause of feeling so disconnected from friends. A tiny burst of pain behind my left eye, a hint of what might follow it, knowing in a few hours I'll only want darkness and quiet. A tightness in my chest as I face the glaring opposition of the weather outside. This is not a day for moving about.

In contrast to these symptoms and storms, things are actually on an upswing. I don't know if the turn itself ocurred on Friday night, or if it was simply the observable aftermath of a change. Whatever it was, I stood watching Fleet Foxes, seeing Robin Pecknold's sweet surprised thank you at the bursts of applause, and felt more joy than I have in some time. It's not lyrical content that makes the band convey such optimism; it's rather the thought that if something this beautiful can still be created, things are going to turn out alright.

Next week, grey days or no, we'll set out to by our Christmas tree. All new ornaments have been purchased, shining red and silver driving away the winter blues. We'll watch "A Muppet's Christmas Carol" and I'll know that someone in New York might be giving me the best present she's ever come up with. Damien will drink soy nog, and I'll boil mulling spices until the whole house glows with cinnamon goodness. There's a lot of joy around the corner - even if it actually, literally, cannot stop raining.

Teatro Principal

2007-11-21T15:32:00.000-08:00

Saturday was the day we'd traveled such a long way for. At the embarrassing hour of one p.m. we were awoken by a phone call from the lobby. Our ride was downstairs waiting to take us to sound check. In less than 30 seconds we dressed and ran downstairs, and as Damien set up onstage I settled into a velveteen seat on the ground floor. The theater itself was magnificent:

Given that Damien played solo at Tanned Tin, sound check consists of one dude and one guitar. After three minutes we were ready to head back out the door. Sadly, our ride to the venue was now driving Frog Eyes to the airport, and returning to the hotel involved a long walk once again. I was starting to feel sickly from AC and strange sleeping patterns, so our walk home consisted of cough drops and touristy photo ops.

We discovered the art of cooking pasta in the microwave after finding zero vegan food in the surrounding area. It was awful, but awfully delicious when spiced with hunger. I thought of my gchat with Katie Blake just before I left, where I promised I'd come home with tales of all the amazing food there. This wasn't quite what either of us had envisioned, but my take on a mediterranean salad cut up with plastic cutlery was pretty damn good.

By the time our driver picked us up for the show, I felt worse than I had earlier in the day. If it weren't a once in a lifetime sort of event, I would've crawled into bed and slept it out. Instead we got there early to try to find Dolorean and other friends at the festival. We set up post in our dressing room, Damien composing new songs and me with my head on the counter.

We visited with Al James and I finally got the chance to meet the rest of Dolorean as well. We stood outside smoking and talking about the ridiculousness of American pop culture. They were continuing their mini-tour after Tanned Tin, including a show with Okkervil River, and we told stories from the fall tour and of our much-missed friends. All of it was absolutely lovely, except for the fact that I felt like death. I couldn't believe I'd traveled so far for just this event, and I would've given anything to skip it.

Finally Damien was going on, and I walked to the second level to the performer's reserved booths. I managed to find a seat with a perfectly clear view, and waited as nervously as I do for any of his shows. This one, however, proved to be unlike any performance of his I'd ever seen. The entire theater was completely silent, and Damien seemed to be transformed and possessed during his set. There were moments between songs when he dipped back down into reality, thanking Jesus of Acuarela Discos and all of the Tanned Tin staff. But by his last song, with tears threatening to spill out, he sang "Shadow" with an intensity that overwhelmed even me.

As he finished, applause literally thundered out, and level by level people got to their feet for a standing ovation. The sound engineer coaxed Damien back onstage for an encore, and I couldn't imagine what he would play after that. I started crying immediately at the first few notes of a song he wrote for me. Laura Gibson and her boyfriend were seated just behind me, and it was for their benefit that I didn't come undone. I can't write about it in a way that does it justice, or without tearing up as I type. It goes on the top ten moments of a lifetime; I'm just too young yet to declare it number one.

***

The best and worst thing about Spain was that nothing was familiar. No television, no email, and no phone calls other than one to my dad and one to Miles. No Whole Foods to comfort you on the road, no ease of driving yourself around. The whole trip was a learning experience, and the whole trip was work. It is the longest I have gone without talking to my friends in years. I feel like my life at home lately has taken the path of least resistance - a warm home in Ballard with my sweetheart, tucking in early at night, home cooked meals. The good life. But also quite comfortable, and I've never been one to believe in being comfortable too long. Challenges are a catalyst for growth, and I have no interest in being stagnant. Spain was not always glamorous or relaxing, but it was something to learn from. Something to think about long after I'm cozied up again in my home sweet home.

The return trip was basically my first post in reverse, with the addition of a teary eyed meltdown in the middle of Barcelona's El Prat Airport. Neither of us slept very well or very long the night before we left, so once we arrived at Sea Tac, we'd been awake for two days once again. Our shuttle home felt endless despite a very sweet driver, and strangest of all, the Seattle skyline actually looked foreign as we drove up 99. One short week, but being home didn't feel quite the same.

Being there

2007-11-16T15:29:00.000-08:00

Friday morning the phone rang out with the wake up call I'd requested the night before. In a 9 a.m. haze, I started dialing numbers for our contacts at Tanned Tin. Panicking as the first few numbers went unanswered, I was relieved when I finally reached someone. Speaking as best I could in Spanish, I put together that they were equally happy to be hearing from us - unable to find us at the train station, they spent the night worrying we'd ended up in the wrong city, calling other stops as far away as Valencia to try and find us.

After resolving any "missing persons" fears, we wandered down and out in search of food. The first few blocks on foot, we weren't even quite sure what we were looking for. It was enough to be walking around in Spain on a sunny October day. Attempting to buy fresh fruit at a bodega ended oddly as the clerk briskly instructed me not to touch the food myself. I had her get me a pear and a banana and we left quickly after paying. After that, my first shopping attempt in a foreign country, I voted we head back to the comfort of the hotel for a minute.

We opted to try the cafe at the hotel; a continental breakfast was 9 € - a sum which seemed reasonable until it became clear it was $15 for little other than dry toast. I gave in and had my first cup of coffee in months, and it was everything I wanted it to be. The music in the hotel was a constant influx of obscure American music in nonsensical playlists. It was the perfect soundtrack in a David Lynch sort of manner; we smoked cigarettes indoors and talked endlessly. Regardless of the fact that basically no food was consumed, it will go down in history as one of my all time favorite meals.

Naturally, we fell asleep shortly after. We woke up in darkness and decided to get ourselves to the festival. Our contacts had told us to call for drivers to and from the venue, but on a day when Damien wasn't even playing I felt guilty taking advantage of their generosity. Plus, a quick glance at the map told me we weren't far from the venue where most of the shows were taking place. The best way to see the city would be to walk, after all.

We headed out straightaway, turning down a busy street just a block from the hotel. The street was under construction, and when the sidewalk dissolved into potholes and dirt, we darted across 4 lanes of traffic to the opposite side. Repeatedly I commented on the lack of street signs, but I knew if we just headed straight in that direction we'd run into the cultural center soon enough. We kept walking, and walking, and became a bit confused by a roundabout and the signs for a large cemetery nearby. According to the map, the cemetery was northwest of the direction we were heading - we were walking straight east of the hotel. We voted to stop at each block and read the names elegantly tiled on the sides of the buildings. I had trouble recognizing anything, but for reasons unknown each street changed names each block. I assumed our inability to find the street name on the map was just the sheer volume of titles. We'd keep heading the same way and veer a bit to the left in a few blocks, and the Teatro Principal would be within view.

This went on for some time, until I finally conceded to Damien that: a) I was lost, and b) I was nervous. I wanted to turn back the way we came. Simple enough, if one knows which way they came from. Several dead ends forced us in the opposite direction of where my gut was telling me to go. As someone who takes pride in her sense of direction, I was wildly irritated with myself for getting turned around. As someone who had no interest in having her purse stolen, I was a little freaked out. Nonetheless, I tucked away any paranoia and chatted with Damien as if neither of us had a care in the world. Finally we approached a main street again, at which point I realized: I really had no idea where we were.

I would've paid all the money in the world for a cab, if one would've appeared. Not one drove by though, and our best bet was to keep hoofing it. I saw a landmark in the distance, a huge and strange statue that looked like the neck of a guitar protruding from the ground. Imagining in my mind how it was visible from the hotel, I tried to compare our current position in relation to it. Not entirely sure I was correct, we headed in the direction I believed would lead us to the hotel. While parts of Castellon are charming, this was more of an industrial area, and the few scattered restaurants and bars didn't look inviting. I gripped Damien's hand with equal parts affection and terror. I don't know how long this went on, but I managed not to lose my mind. Finally, finally, signs appeared for the Hotel Luz.

Somehow I felt victorious as we walked in the front door, nevermind the fact that I'd just walked us in a giant scary circle for nearly 3 hours. Looking at the map, I realized that I'd had a slight confusion in North v. South. Minor details. The Tanned Tin festival was the absolute last thing on my mind by then, but lucky for me, Damien has much more perseverance than I do. We headed back out - in the CORRECT direction - and we thrilled to actually find the theater this go 'round. It was late, and we'd missed more than a few bands, but we were there in time to have Frog Eyes make all the walking worthwhile.

We fell asleep completely exhausted that night, and for all the things we didn't get to see, we still got to see a whole damn lot.

To be con't...

Getting there

2007-11-14T19:21:00.000-08:00

The lost vacation - is a trip lost solely if it's never "blogged," communicated, recounted, or told out in story form? Spain, and the accompanying travels, certainly warrant a permanent record. Not in the way that I expected, but nonetheless edifying and ultimately more beneficial than a simple "enjoyable" vacation. Here's to recording important events weeks after they've passed; perhaps with some time to reflect, the trip can be placed in better context. Otherwise the details have simply slipped away, no silver lining to save me from the guilt of sloth and loss.

***

For Damien and me, Halloween was reduced to a series of pre-flight errands and a 3:45 pm shuttle. I wish I could say I'd left in bright spirits, but my nervous energy about flying got channeled into a cranky sort of resentment about British Airways and their inability to provide us with vegan meals. It is much, much easier to worry about what you will eat in the next 8.5 hours rather than whether your plane will fall out of the sky in the next 8.5 hours. Luckily, one last call home to my father reminded me that there are worse things than missing a meal, especially when you're taking your first trip to Europe for free. With a marginally improved perspective, I shut my trap and got on the big ol' plane.

Last minute catering requests notwithstanding, British Airways took very good care of the passengers en route to Heathrow. Flights of that length get little goody bags with comfy socks and sleep masks, even for their "World Traveler" class - a fancy way of saying "coach." The LCD screen built into the seat in front of me had a wide selection of movies I would never admit to watching. The device seemed genius until we hit heavy turbulence over Greenland, and Damien took to watching the in-flight progress. I can't imagine any visual less helpful than a plane icon over inevitably freezing waters miles off the coast of nowhere. Unless, of course, it's the data helpfully provided in the next frame: 37,000 in the air, and it's -70 degrees out. We're all better off with the latest Catherine Zeta-Jones movie.

Arriving at Heathrow meant taking a bus, passing thru security once again, exchanging dollars into pounds to buy a Diet Coke [er, Coke Light overseas], wait anxiously for the correct departure gate to be announced, and almost three hours later, board our plane. Our flight to Barcelona was unremarkable, which is perhaps the best thing than can be said about air travel. Arriving in Barcelona, I marveled at how difficult it was to understand. Anything. Not a single baggage claim carousel was marked, and the information booths did not speak English. Rusty Spanish skills had to make do, and once our bags were in hand we tore outside for victory cigarettes. Any rules on abolishment of smoking are thrown aside during international travel; I might've lost my mind without nicotine.

Our next stop was the train station, only a 30 euro cab ride away. I'm relatively sure I may have asked him to take us to the "freeway" as opposed to the "train station," or perhaps I simply said "railway." Luckily our pre-printed tickets proved instruction enough, and we were on our way without further attempts at communication. Waiting for our departure, Damien began to show the effects of exhaustion. We sat on the floor and stared at each other, marveling in the new language surrounding us, and at the constant activity that is the trademark of any busy station. Speaking Spanish once again proved invaluable, since there was no way to tell when or where our train was leaving. I pondered how people manage to travel to places where they don't speak the language, given that my halting remembrances of how to say things had already saved us twice.

As we boarded the train, I double checked to make sure we were going the right way. "Hasta Castellon, de verdad?" Polite giggles followed as the hostess assured me, "Si, de verdad." In my head I believed I was saying something sensible, but I'm guessing it translated more like the awkward phrasing, "To Castellon, it is true?" Silly Americans.

The train ride itself was far from relaxing; with the lights on in the compartment, there was no way to even catch a glimpse of the landscape passing by. Without a watch [ridiculous, I know] I had to stay awake to make sure we didn't miss our stop. For most of the two hour trip, I was convinced we somehow had, and breathed a huge sigh of relief when we stepped off correctly in Castellon.

We stepped outside for nicotine and to try to find our greeter from the festival. Five minutes went by. Ten. Still there was no one with a sign reading "Jurado," nor anyone with a searching look on their face. Having been awake for nearly two days, traveling solidly for a full one, I couldn't imagine spending any more time in a train station that evening. One look at our show info stated that the Hotel Luz was adjacent to the train station. Gathering our bags and instruments and cameras, we hoped against hope that "adjacent" translated correctly. Low and behold, it was two blocks away, red and white sign shining brilliantly in the dark of midnight.

Despite being an elegant and modern hotel, none of the staff spoke English - this would prove true for the duration of the trip, with the exception of the airline employees in Barcelona. Keys in hand, we proceeded up to the 5th floor in a mirrored elevator; as we walked down the hall, lights seemed to glow more brightly as we passed. The next day we'd find out it was real, and not a hallucination of exhaustion. Motion sensors throughout the entry and doorways signaled the dim lights to shine with more vibrancy, an effect that was just as welcoming as intended.

Then, we slept.

***

To be con't...

Tussin

2007-11-06T15:14:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I watched the sun rise over the Mediterranean from the window of the train to Barcelona. So, regardless of how pleased I am to be in my own bed, waking up today was less than spectacular.

All relevant stories to follow, but for now, I am home. Damien's photos are here.

xo

Vizzle

2007-10-19T16:28:00.000-07:00

The term "indie rock" means very little any more - if it ever did to begin with. More and more, 'independent' music feels homogenized, mass produced, and co-opted by those who focus more on profitability than creativity. Whatever impulse that had originally drawn us [okay, to be fair, me] towards something outside of the mainstream gets lost in the lack of inspiration and connectivity.

And then, there is John Vanderslice.

Wednesday night's show, both the performance and the environment surrounding it, were magic. As I walked up, I saw Laura Musselman outside [she was there shooting photos for Three Imaginary Girls] and she remarked how all of her favorite people were inside, that it felt like a family reunion. Looking around in between Bishop Allen's [charming] set and the appearance of JV, I was blown away at the community and talent in the audience. From Heather Hydra beaming in the front row to PR powerhouse Joan Hiller, the artist/designer/musician/goodness of Eric Fisher to the brains behind Barsuk records Josh Rosenfeld. There was no "scene" to be seen; just the opposite, truly. But the goodness in the room was only a reflection of who we were all there to see.

The fact that John is the nicest man in rock 'n roll is lovely, but still secondary to his talent. Crafting instantly likeable songs that are still miles away from "pop", Vanderslice has a singeing intensity to his performance. Damien and I stood to the side of the stage, the best spot to watch drummer Dave Douglas. In addition to playing a Moog synthesizer while simultaneously playing the drums, when he did have both hands free he plays like nothing else I've ever seen. On occasion his right hand would sweep up over his left shoulder, a dancing grace in the excess movement. When John, Ian, Daniel, and Dave unplugged and walked out into the crowd to play their final song as they must've done so many other times this tour, it still felt fresh and genuine. Most of all it was something that everyone was a part of, right down to the tone deaf gentleman directly in front of me. He sang the chorus horribly but with as much soul as anyone; "Keep the dream alive."

Just before the show we'd dawdled a little bit smoking out front. Walking past our group, John Roderick walked past and declared with that sly-toothed contagious grin of his - "Come on, let's all go in to the big ol' indie rock show." Thanks to JV, it's still alive.

Comfort

2007-10-16T20:13:00.000-07:00

We've been home a week now. Tonight, in my clean and shiny little house, my gratitude for being here is overwhelming. The days since our return haven't afforded me much time with friends, but quite a fair amount with my family. Sunday night I sat with my dad, my brother, and my Sandy-mom [stepmother being such an inappropriate word for what she is to me]. We talked for hours on end about religion, sobriety, tour, creative writing versus critical analysis, football, and the raccoons that have taken over the back porch. Today was lunch at La Isla with my older sister, the one who was much like a third [or fourth?] parent growing up. Being gone for three weeks certainly makes one realize how important the people are who are waiting for you.

There was one night out on the town; a last hurrah for Miss Jenny Jimenez before she joins the ranks of the happily wedded. Those stories, however, will reside right alongside the photos of the evening - hidden away from the likes of the internerd, and treasured by the nearest and dearest who celebrated that night. To Mrs. A and Mrs. A, congrats on planning the perfect event.

My roses are pruned down to dead-looking shriveled bodies; leaves are already giving way from brightly hung reds to browns littering the ground. Fall will come and go while I'm traveling about, so I breathe as much of it in while I can. Tonight, with cinnamon candles lit, I'll curl up with a new book and a cup of tea. My phone buzzes and reminds me that across town, Havana is just beginning to fill up with bodies, and maybe when summer comes 'round such things will call to me again. For now, there's nothing better than our house.

you never knew you wanted it to begin with

2007-10-10T15:41:00.000-07:00

as the tour wound down and we drove across texas and then some, damien became increasingly anxious to get home. each minute away from miles was felt presently and acutely. any hint of seattle called to him, from space needle photo feeds to the weather channel's reports of 58 degree temperatures. i, for one, flatly declared i wanted to stay in each place we stopped. back porches in north carolina, warm dry sunshine in austin, strange deserts in arizona; i wanted to keep the feeling each new place brought.

before feathers get ruffled, it goes without saying that i missed my loved ones and pictured so many faces along the way. but i kept picturing the street i live on, and no emotions would register. no longing for home or the pull of fond memories. as best i could tell, i was right there with the person who makes that house a home - and that transfers anywhere. in san diego it was harder than usual to get on the plane [and not only because i'd just fallen while carting 100 pounds of luggage onto the shuttle bus]. my willingness to board a flying vehicle is usually buoyed by the excitement of where i'm going. but to return to daily life, i could summon none at all.

the flight was by far the most turbulent i've ever been on. i kept a cool calm demeanor for the man beside me, who is less fond of flying than i am. but inches below the surface my heart sped into tachycardia and remainded there depsite every attempt at meditation or prayer. i listened to jv and savored each memory behind the songs like pieces of candy. next up was okkervil, picturing each band member in correlation with each note, distracting myself with the memories of tour. i held damien's hand as if i wished to comfort him, secretly seeking the same myself. my dramamine, taken too late, didn't truly kick in until we got off the plane. groggy and in pain, i trudged towards baggage claim while d literally jumped in the air from excitement. "SEATTLE!" he yelled at the empty terminal, fists shaking. i envied his enthusiasm as we caught a yellow cab.

what an amazing surprise then to be so pleased to wake up in my bed this morning. the feel of the familiar, of how much easier it is to start the day in one's own space. the house is covered in cd's acquired during the past month, and the enlarger i purchased before skipping town is in pieces in the kitchen. there is a month's worth of mail and administrative duties awaiting me. this time tomorrow i'll be half way through a work day. but despite all that, or perhaps in some way because of it, i'm happy to be home. i'm still listening to don't fall in love with everyone you see and holding on to what was good about traveling; but combined with what's good about being stationary, perhaps i can have the best of both worlds.

home stretch

2007-10-07T08:15:00.000-07:00

we're in houston, texas. another comfort inn. last night at walter's on washington, damien jurado played his last show of this tour with okkervil river. for okkervil's last two songs, i stood with d by the side of the stage. the room must've been ninety-plus degrees inside; i'd already taken to dumping water over my head to stay cool. adding tear-stained cheeks to the mess of it all made little difference, so i stopped trying to hide the fact that i was crying.

i will miss watching scott learn to play the piccolo. i will miss the joke "plus nines". i will miss jeff's stories from the backseat. i will miss watching damien spend time with ryan, okkervil's phenomenal tour manager. i will miss broken down vans and the camaraderie that ensued. i will miss patrick shouting in the crowd, "quit ripping me off, jurado!" i will also miss the confusion that tends to follow that statement. i will miss the way brian plays the guitar, with an ability to grab your heartstrings and pull you into the song. i will miss beyond words seeing shearwater each night, the way jonathan would transform as he sang, as if he had no choice but to do so. i will miss the rare moments of uninterupted conversations with travis, where i'd gush about how grateful i was to be on the tour. i will miss the familiar sight of that big ol' black van. and i will miss studying the way will uses language, shapes words, conveys information - unique and so compelling.

it's just the two of us now. today we have an eleven hour drive, a number which my brain can't quite accept. before we head out, there's goodbyes to be said in houston. damien's old elementary school and that last house before seattle, they're both two miles from here. austin will tempt us to deviate from the fastest route to el paso, just to be there for a minute, just to blow another goodbye kiss. even once we've made it, there's two days of drive to follow. i never thought of staying seated in a van as a noble quest, but on this trip it has come to seem so. it's sunday morning; tuesday night we'll walk thru our front door. as happy as i know i'll be, i know that so much of me will miss what was texas.

southern comfort

2007-10-04T22:33:00.000-07:00

i opened my eyes today as the van came to a halt; from my half upside-down viewpoint, all i could see was a neon-lit peach. still in georgia, then. that, and breakfast at the grit, might be my only memories of the state. i didn't want to leave north carolina, to leave katie and daniel and their back porch with two rocking chairs. i didn't want to leave the memories of a day off, listening to the new band of horses while i stared out the window at birds in the trees. i certainly didn't want to leave it all when i woke up after less than 5 hours of sleep, trekking out for damien's instudio at unc greensboro before we headed south.

shortly after he finished up at the station [which was, as it always is, worth all the effort] i more or less lost my mind in the van. i couldn't take one more minute of half awake napping, or the sound of our gps system's voice, or the sight of yet another waffle house. damien wisely chose the one sedative i can use safely: television. one quick stop at best buy for season three of grey's anatomy, and i rode quietly and peacefully for the next six hours. trouble was, once we arrived at the 40 watt in beautiful athens, georgia, i didn't want to do much else but sit in the van.

he loaded in while i sat feeling lost. when he came back, he gently suggested i get some air. i did, and chose to lay myself right down on the concrete of that parking lot. thru the brick wall above my head i could hear jonathan soundchecking shearwater songs. some tree, origin unknown, just some sort of leaf i don't see back home, swayed just a bit above me. warm southern air. it was intoxicating and i felt dizzy despite lying down. i don't know whether it was the high point or the low point of the trip.

it felt like such a victory just to arrive at the venue tonight, let alone accomplish anything once there. everyone on this tour knows it's coming to an end, and it seems to have shifted from the strain of exhaustion towards the relief of the home stretch. there's an appreciation that all of this doesn't happen every day, for better or for worse. as home sick as i am, i worry about being tour sick when i get home. i'm going to miss this group of guys and the songs they sing so much, i can hardly stand the thought of it. but the very best part of this tour is coming home with me; my best friend [who is out getting me ginger ale as i sit in bed typing this] and the fact that we did thistogether.

taxation without representation

2007-09-30T21:17:00.000-07:00

my loved ones in washington state have as much of a chance of seeing the white house as i do tonight in the district of columbia. our overpriced valet shuts down for the night at 11 pm, which would leave us to fend for ourselves in terms of parking. we opted instead to pack up early after damien's set; of course i was upstairs doing merch in a bar separate from the show room on the night he's stated was his favorite round of the whole tour. murphy's law.

tour is the best and worst of all things. seeing so many places, yet really "seeing" them not at all. it's the excitement of the capitol out the passenger window, and the mundane details of a new jersey hotel that charged twice for one stay. ultimately tour is soothing despite the constant motion. it simply doesn't allow you to make too much of anything, and something not unlike serenity occurs when i can sit back and just let the trip be what it will.

i had the privledge of sitting a few feet away while will interviewed with npr this evening; i still can't believe how easily eloquent he is. i've adapted somewhat to hearing okkervil on a nightly basis, but tonight 'a king and a queen' still knocked me back. my brain tends to run on a strange stoned kerouac narrative at any given point in time, a running background commentary that i've become accustomed to. but tonight that sad longing song brought back a visceral flash of a heartbreaking night in portland. i can see myself sitting in the parking lot of a suburban movie theater, waiting to hear the end of that same song before stepping out of the car. i know what i was wearing, the black jacket with fur trim; that same jacket would be tucked up around my face a year later as i was teased that it was too "last season." a hundred different pangs of heartaches that contrast with the life i have now; those events and people no longer stay with me, but their ghosts get caught up in the verses i hear day after day.

perhaps now "black sheep boy" will be imbued instead with visions of carting gear down precarious steps, of diet cokes and backstage moments too touching to recount. i cannot fathom the good fortune that brought me here; i suppose i can't fault it too much if i don't see the president's house this evening.

off the beaten turnpike

2007-09-30T00:45:00.000-07:00

it's quarter of four eastern time, on a night we both swore we'd turn in early. the day off before new york was nice, but more so it feels like you'd need one after.

the east coast has been so beautiful, and most nights have turned out so differently than i would've envisioned. in northampton, we called it an early night. for us, the real highlight was post-show, as i horrified damien by singing in the middle of a stop and shop, dancing down the aisles unabashedly. but just the night before in boston, beautiful effing boston, eighty six humid degrees of summer bleeding into fall boston, i had my mind blown by okkervil's performance. for the encore, they walked off to the side of the stage and stood, unplugged, almost in the middle of the crowd. amazingly, i watched it backstage with tears running down my face... all while my camera sat across a sea of 700 people at the merch table. lesson learned.

i was terrified at the idea of being in new york. somehow i pictured streets crowded past the point of movement, constant stress, snobby locals, and 1000 other unwelcoming stereotypes. the reality was a brilliant williamsburg record store [sound fix], and after a stellar performance by damien, a bizarre series of adventures worthy of summer '05. oliver vonderahe appeared, and true to form, had us all pile in to his seatless van where we sat on edward bender's old rug as he carted us cross town. lauren hoffman joined us as we found the venue where rocky votolato was playing, and it was the best home away from home i could've hoped for. driving lauren home, we drove thru central park - oddly, the first place i ever rode a horse back in 1985. we made it to our jersey hotel only after i bought a pizza in times square, which i ate as we drove thru the holland tunnel. all the ny cliches i could fit into the span of twelve hours.

day two in ny was a blur. webstell hall looked like a haunted mansion in the early afternoon before all 1400 showgoers would be walking thru the front door. every intention i had of spending time with my ny friends evaporated in the crowd. i stole ian foster from the "vip" lounge and force fed him quality time with me and damien in our pink "green" room. as okkervil played the whole floor shook; it felt like they might literally bring the house down. despite an early curfew we were exhausted by the time we arrived at the hotel. i didn't even get a peek at the statue of liberty, but i nonetheless place new york in the "success" column.

philly tonight and i don't want to leave. vegan cannolis, unexpected friends of friends, a strong desire to see the liberty bell and no time to do so? i need another day. or twelve. the hour is bordering on the obscene, and we're due in the nation's capitol before we know it. if i'm to be of any use at all, it's time for shuteye. long past, as it were. sweet dreams.

team u.s.a.

2007-09-24T14:58:00.000-07:00

tomorrow marks a week since i left town. we've managed to experience a good portion of tour cliches; broken down vans, unexpectedly unappealing hotels, wayward gps systems, exhilerating shows, and for me, crying by the side of the road in a foreign country. those who would argue that canada is hardly a "foreign" country should spend some time in montreal.

in the middle of nowhere, whole foods feels like an oasis. the stress of a new city every morning can now be counteracted with extracts of rhodiola and valerian root. not knowing the exchange rate, i spent $75 there in one quick stop just outside toronto. quite honestly, having eaten at a "friendly's" today to ill effect, i can't say i wouldn't pay it all over again just to have real food.

damien has learned that i can sing along with many a new country song; luckily will and jonathan, so sweetly polite, are spared our van antics on the rides they take with us. quiet and thoughtful conversations replace my all-out goofiness, and amazing live albums [sam cooke, nina simone] replace ridiculous radio scans. more often than not though, it's just me and d in the van. it's amazing to not only see much of the country for the first time, but to see it with my best friend. both of us work our ass off to make this trip work, but in the moments we have together it pays off ten-fold.

it's hard not to sound shmarmy as i try to sum up such an incredible week, all in the fifteen minutes i have before we head to the venue. am i a bit overwraught, overemotional, and laden with cliches? fair enough. that's about what it's like out here. last night i cried while okkervil played 'black'. i cried again while telling them that and buying travis a shot of whiskey for his birthday. tour is just what i might've hoped for, only multiplied by ten - for both the highs AND the lows.

i miss the roses in my front yard and all the eyes i hope are reading this. but truth be told, there's nowhere i'd rather be than where ever it is i am right now.