It's always exciting when I "discover" a new musical talent that I fall in love with. It's a rare occurrence, and even more rare when the singer is a female. I'm the first to admit I'm jaded when it comes to women singing...there are only a few that I have on my mp3 player (shhh, don't laugh about my mp3 player as I still listen to audio cassettes as well.) Patti Smith, Courtney Love, Billie Holiday & Souxsie Sioux are the chosen ones on my limited capacity player. After my recent purchase of two Cd's, it looks like I'm going to have to delete some songs to make room for "Dead Woman Walking" and "The Devil Herself" by Megan Jean and the KFB.
Facebook finally became useful when it alerted me to a performance on Tuesday evening of Megan Jean at the Roanoke City Library. I had never heard of this husband and wife duet before, but after reading some of the comments decided to Youtube them. I heard this...
Intrigued, and having my Brooklyn cousin -- my musical soul partner -- in town proved to be the perfect storm. We arrived at the library a couple of minutes late. In front of us was a woman strumming with steel fingertips a washboard, keeping beat on a drum with her foot, whacking the snare with her left hand & marrying them with her stunning vocals. To her right stood her husband picking a beautiful black banjo. And that's it...an orchestra coming from two. It works.
Sorry my pictures suck. The performance reminded me of touring troubadours, gypsies, and a voodoo queen from New Orleans. Although Annie Lenox, Patti Smith, Billie Holiday, Amy Winehouse, and a couple of others were named, my cousin and I couldn't quite determine "who" she sounded like. Herself, I guess. Besides putting on a animated show, I found Megan Jean to be entertaining and likable with her segue stories. They had just arrived in VA after a stint in Florida's gulf coast during Spring Break Week. She joked they were not her target audience. I bet. My cousin and & I were. So much so that after the show I bought both of her Cd's.
She mentioned they will be appearing at Martin's in May. I'm definitely going. They're also be playing FloydFest. That's not my scene, but I know it's popular here, so I recommend anyone going definitely check out what time they'll be playing. Get close to the stage.
As I sat in the yard yesterday waiting for Bella to do her business, I could hear the happy sounds of the children playing in the park across the street. It was the elementary school's field day. At first I smiled, but then I felt myself getting choked up.
It seems like it was just yesterday when I was one of the room moms filling the water balloons, serving snacks, corralling the children into lines, and helping with a million other little tasks when both of my kids went to school there. I thought back to the days when I had one child on each side, holding my hands as we walked to school. Most days I volunteered at the library or in their classroom, and I loved the way their faces lit up when my kids saw me. I believe they were proud of me as they never held back a hug, a kiss, or a "love you" in front of their friends. I feel the same way about them.
It's hard to believe my baby will be graduating this week. To say I'm proud of her would be an understatement. Anyone who knows us, knows what she has gone through in her life. In fact, if any of you have read Fractured Facade, I guess you realize "Annabelle" is based on her. She's faced every challenge with dignity, and never let it stop her from achieving her goals. Sure, it was a battle, but it was one she won...with honors.
As you can see from the shot below, her graduation gown will be adorned with many honor cords and even a beta sash. Not only is she one of the valedictorians of her high school, but is also the recipient of an academic scholarship from VWCC.
My daughter is the first female to attend college in our family, and she is also the first female to even finish high school on my husband's side. Yeah, that bar wasn't too high, but she chose to raise it, instead of going under it. I forsee a bright future for her and hope she always stays as kind, funny, intelligent, and tough as she is now. The only thing I would change is her taste in boys. Guess the apple didn't fall far from my tree...
For the last 15 years I carried around a bicycle lock in my shop work bag. Why? Because I knew one day I would need that chain. Well, the day finally arrived yesterday when I bought a brand new bike.
The previous day I had my husband dig through the shed and take out my old bike. It hasn't gotten much, any, use since moving down here because of all the hills, mountains as well as the lack of sidewalks. But I suddenly decided I needed to get back on a bike after a conversation with my Brooklyn cousin whereby I lamented how fit and trim I was living in New York City, and attributed it to all the walking and bike riding I used to do. I conveniently "forgot" that was way BC, (before children) but it still made me ponder if perhaps riding a bike again would be a good way to lose some weight and limber up my aching bones.
My husband dusted off Betsey and filled the brittle tires with air. The hard narrow seat hurt, and the squeaky brakes annoyed me, but the bike still worked, so off I went. Since Salem has some Greenways not far from the shop, I figured it would be an ideal location to give it a spin. So I rode along the path I usually walk. The worst part was getting to the path as I had to walk the bike up a rather steep hill and across a bridge dodging traffic on Colorado. I was out of breath by the time I even got to the Greenway.
As I began to pedal, coasting every couple of seconds to bend down and pull apart the front brake clamp, I realized I had missed bike riding. It felt nice to have the wind whipping through my hair and was much more pleasurable than pedaling in my basement while watching television. When I got to a high point on the trail I pedalled really fast and then sped down loving it until I began to go too fast and was in danger of losing control. I squeezed on the brakes hard. They squeaked, yet failed. My hand ached as I pumped and pumped, and the sole of my sneaker practically had smoke coming off of it as I dragged it along the roadway. I finally stopped. It was scary, yet exhilarating!
It was at that point when I realized if I want to continue this madness it would probably be best if I got a new bike. I made it back to the shop and went on-line to see what was out there. I was feeling rather sore on my butt and my hands throbbed in pain. Thank you RA. I was thrilled to find that there were bikes that didn't just use hand brakes, as that would have been a deal-breaker for me. I found a couple of coaster bikes that used foot brakes, so immediately asked my husband to put down the wrench and fire up the jalopy, I mean pick up truck.
There were two bikes that fit my requirements -- a comfy seat and foot brakes. The first one was white, and when I took it for a spin around the aisles it felt too flimsy. I wasn't crazy about the white seat either which would get dirty in the shop, and wasn't as cushy as I hoped. Then I saw another one, way, way up on the rack. It looked way cooler. It had fenders, a back thingamajig to put things on, a leather pouch, drink holder and even a bottle opener on the side of the front wheel. Who could ask for anything more? Although I think bottle caps are no longer even being made, but hey let's keep it vintage, shall we?
My husband struggled to get the bike down, but he did, and in one piece. I took it for a spin and it felt way more comfortable than the other one. The seat even had springs to cushion my bouncing butt and I was happy to discover that now you don't even need a wrench to adjust the height! I liked the colors and even the faux wood trim. It reminded me of Pee Wee Herman's bike. Sold! Here she is -- she's a beauty, isn't she?
Naturally the first order of business was getting a speedometer. The second order was getting it to work! I bought a wireless one which shows mileage, speed, outdoor temperature, time, how long before your heart gives out, etc. My husband, being a man, didn't read the directions so it didn't work. I read the directions and told him he put the magnet thingie on the left side of the wheel instead of the right as the directions had instructed. He laughed at me, but switched it, and voila! it worked!
So, early this morning I went to work, I mean I went to the shop, to get on my bike. Last night I had put a bottle of water in the freezer so brought that and my camera along with me. The water fit perfectly in the cup holder and the camera in the pouch. Off I went. It was still a struggle getting up the hill. I then rode from one trail, across the road to another trail, around a sports complex, and along the river for one hour. The speedometer said I rode for 8 miles. It felt more like 18 miles. I burned 276 calories and took some great photos which I will post after I take some other shots I want.
I started a chart of what I weigh before this bike experiment to see if I am making any progress. I've also put my pain level on it as well to see if it alleviates it, or, makes it worse. Hopefully all will go well and I will be svelte and wearing Lycra in no time, but until then, this is how I think of myself as I'm riding it...
I thought that today would be a good day to blog about why I love eBooks. Sure, it's given me the opportunity to self-publish and get my stories out there, but that's the author side...I want to speak about the reader side.
First off let me say I love my Kindle. And this is not my eReader is better than your eReader statement. It's about my experience. Your wants and likes may differ. I love the un-lit back screen which looks like I'm reading a "real" book. I love how I can increase the print size. I love that it's big enough to read comfortably, yet small enough to fit in my pocketbook. I love that I can hold it easier than I can a hard cover book. What I don't love about it is when I get the notification my battery is about to die. I wish the battery bar showed me that I'm getting to a point where I need to recharge instead of getting that dreaded notice just as I'm getting into a scene. Of course, I could just plug it into a wall, or my computer and keep right on reading, but sometimes that's not possible.
By far the best thing about my Kindle is that it has introduced me to the world of fiction. What??? That's right, I have never been a fan of fiction. In fact, when someone in the past has asked me which authors I like I would have a hard time coming up with names, other than Edgar Allen Poe, O. Henry or some beat writers. That's because most fiction I've read I could barely get through, and there was rarely an author I would seek out to read the next book. I found too many stories "unbelievable" or "too pat." It was like the authors were following a computer program whereby they inserted the character names, settings and plot lines, and the computer would spit out a book. Life is not filled with happy endings. So my preference in the past have been biographies and memoirs, even by "unknowns." Although I could find a couple in the bargain bins in used bookstores and library sales, the problem I found is that most memoirs by unknowns have not been published in the traditional sense. With the advent of self-publishing that has changed.
Right now I have over one hundred books downloaded to my Kindle. I'm sure others probably have thousands, but I'm of the mind set, just because it's free I'm not going to download a book. However, I have been quicker to download a free novel and "give it a shot" than I was to buy one in a bookstore. I'm glad I have because I have discovered some really good indie authors. Right now I am reading "Elephant Girl: A Human Story" by Jane Devin and it's really screwing up my life because I'm having a hard time putting it down. Before that I read JD Marder's "Joe Cafe" and Fred Limberg's "Ferris' Bluff." And although, those two are not the genre I usually read, I enjoyed them both.
What I don't like is when you download a free book then find out it really isn't a full book at all, just a couple of "sample" chapters. That happened to me with Luc Carl's "Tales from the Drunk Diet." I was disappointed to find out that all it contained was two or three chapters from the middle of the book with the statement buy my full book if you like this. Umm, no, I won't. Maybe I would have if there was full disclosure at the time of the "freebie" but there wasn't, and I feel "tricked."
In order to make my life easier I have created collections on my Kindle. At first I just had one called "Books I Read." Then I realized some of the books I read don't belong in that category so I added another one, "Books I Read that Sucked" which includes books I could not get through. I also have one entitled "Classics" and "Cookbooks." With each download I find I have to scroll through pages to find the next book I want to read and frankly some I had downloaded weeks prior so I have forgotten what the book is about. So, next up I'll have to create more collections by genres. Just don't know when I'll get to that, or get to making Twitter lists!
All this reading is cutting into my writing time, but I'm not going to feel guilty...yet!
Reading all the posts yesterday about the passing of Davy Jones from the Monkees brought back all sorts of fond memories. I've often said that the two earliest influences on my life were Bugs Bunny and The Monkees, so it's no wonder I'm all screwed up. Anyway, if you're a woman around my age, say 30, I mean in her early fifties, when you were a pre-teen, or teen, chances are your bedroom wall was covered with posters and pics of musical idols cut from Tiger Beat, Teen Beat and Sixteen magazines.
Davy, with his red pouted lips, dark brown eyes, and bare chest with puka shells, shared my wall with Donny Osmond, Bobby Sherman and David Cassidy. I loved the Monkees. Although the cutest, with his tambourine playing smooth dance moves, he wasn't my favorite. That was reserved for Mickey Dolenz, the wild one. I liked his singing better than Davy too. Besides, Mickey was the "bad boy" of the band and frankly, ruined me for the rest of my life, as I often pooh-poohed the nice guys and sought the rebels instead. Eventually I would deem the Beatles too "mainstream" and pledge my allegiance to the scruffy Rolling Stones instead, but, before that happened, I lived in my happy bubble gum world of pop.
This was the era when AM radio ruled and candy stores in Brooklyn sold 45's. Even though I didn't have one of those plastic record players my friend did, so every week I scoured in between the couch cushions to find coins. I'd dump those lint covered pennies on the counter and sift through the records to find the gem. I remember one afternoon finding "Those Were the Days" in the bargain bin. I was ecstatic, and disregarded the owners admonishment that that wasn't the record I really wanted. What did he know? I rushed home and ran to my friend's house, gingerly removed the record from the white paper and placed it on her phonograph. Instead of the sweet sound of Mary Hopkin's voice, out came Cream's guitars. I had bought the wrong record. Instead of crying, I turned the 45 over and discovered "The White Room" which I loved, so it was all good. And more than once I found a new artist that way.
The teens today have missed out on the feel of clacking the records, searching for a gem, and instead, with a click of a button download whatever it is they're looking for onto their computer, iPhone, MP3 player, whatever. So cold. And what posters could line their walls? Who are the teen idols of today? A freaking vampire, or a Snooki? How sad for them.
My kids have never even heard of Davy Jones and there won't be any flags flown at half mast for him. You know, I don't remember ever seeing a drunken, high Davy Jones. He was a teen idol during a time when teen idols cared about their reputation and were cognizant that millions of fans emulated them. I'm glad I grew up in the era I did, and thank you Davy for giving me and millions of others such joy.
I awoke this morning to find this on my Facebook wall...Highlights from the Fractured Facade ebook event held in December at the Roanoke main library.
Very cool.
A couple of days ago I posted full versions of some of the songs so be sure to check them out here.
Thanks again to all the artists who participated, Ron Bergeron of Star City Fame , River Laker of Roanoke Public Libraries, and everyone who showed up. You guys rock!
One of the best gifts I asked for, and received this Christmas, besides the Zumba2 game for Wii, was a vinyl/cassette to CD recorder. Best...invention...evah! This weekend was the first time I actually had a spare couple of hours to fiddle around with it. First thing I did was comb through my huge collection of records. Since the manual states that the needle only lasts for approximately 50 hours (what does it do after that, explode?) I thought I would need to be discriminating with my choices.
Naturally, the first records I chose were ones that I couldn't easily, or at all, get on CD. I chose The Leather Nun, The Swans and a Patti Smith Group bootleg. When I slid the bootleg out of it's cardboard case I found another little surprise...a press picture autographed by Lenny Kaye. I don't even remember where/when/how I got it, but he wrote, "Fight the Good Fight!" Love always, Lenny Kaye.
I checked the first CD to make sure I did it correctly and was astounded at the clear quality of sound. I expected to hear a lot of static and/or muddled audio, but it was just fine. I always took care of my records so maybe that's why. My compilation tapes may be another story.
The next two LP's, the Swans' "The Burning World" and The Leather Nun's "Alive" were records I played constantly in the 80's. I was introduced to the bands from my second husband, a Dane who happened to be a musician and author. He was a good musician, but I couldn't tell you about his books since except for the dedication to me in one of them, they were all in Danish.
Anyway, as I began recording them I found myself actually weeping. Yes, weeping. Memories, good and bad, brought me back to a past life. A life where the only pain I endured was of the mental kind, and usually self-inflicted. I find listening to music is more potent in jogging my mind into action than looking at any photographs would be. Music is my muse. And this was exactly what I needed.
When I wrote my first book. I always had music playing in the background. My band of choice was the Kings of Leon. With so many revisions I was fortunate they kept releasing new albums. Yes, I still say albums even if they're CD's. I've been pondering what music would be accompanying me on my short story journey. Deciding that is just as important, or more important to me, as creating an outline is to other writers.
Based on the subject of the short story, a Valentine, well actually an anti-Valentine one, both The Leather Nun and the Swans fit the bill perfectly. I'm very excited to get underway so if you are wondering where I am "hiding" in the next couple of weeks, hopefully I'll be hiding behind a keyboard, that this time will not have blood spilled onto it.
"When, When We Were Young We Had No History So Nothing To Lose Meant We Could Choose Choose What We Wanted Then Without Any Fear Or Thought Of Revenge"
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a wee bit worried that we would be able to pull off last night's NYC...Live in Roanoke! event. Having been around musicians most of my life I know they could sometimes be, ummmm, undependable. So as we got closer to the date and I heard reports that this one wouldn't be coming, and that one couldn't make it, I thought, what happens if no one shows up?!
Well, last night my fears were put to rest. Not only did musicians "show up" but they put on a phenomenal show to a packed, standing room only house. Now keep in mind many of these musicians, probably never heard of, or were even born when the songs I requested were written. But that didn't matter. They got it, and they brought it.
The highlight of the evening for me, besides having a positive response to two videos I produced back in the day, and hearing the audience sing along to "New York, New York" during a video my daughter produced, was when someone came up to me after the show and said, "Who are these bands, and where did you find them? I never heard of them before and had no idea Roanoke had such talent!"
Mission accomplished. My goal was not just to highlight Fractured Facade but to highlight other independent artists, and expose them to a wider audience than what they might normally attract. After hearing them last night, I know I'll be going to their shows, and I hope others who had no idea they "existed" will also.
So without further adieu, here was the rundown...
Daniel Francis Gardner & Mark Beskind. I think Daniel was relieved when I didn't hold him to sing Sid Vicious' version of "My Way!"
Ron Bergeron, putting down the video camera & singing Johnny Thunders' "You Can't Put Your Arms Around a Memory"
Laker consisting of River Laker, Josa Wakes & Blaine Davis performing "Mother." The lovely Suzanne Fitzgerald swaying...
Josa Wakes performing Patti Smith's "Free Money" and Blondie's "Rip Her to Shreds."
Savannah Shoulders gave me chills when they performed Television's "See No Evil." They should add it to their repertoire! A big thank you for allowing the other musicians to use their equipment as well.
Madrone performed Talking Heads' "Psycho Killer" and "Walk on the Wild Side" by Lou Reed. Now I know why my daughter goes to all their shows.
Keith Bowniece performing Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life." I was a little skeptical at first about an acoustic version, but when Keith's voice rang out, I was hooked.
HeeveHaVa performed two Ramone songs which is equal to one-half of a "normal" song...they nailed "Sniff Some Glue" and "Havana Affair."
I want to personally thank each and every one for sharing their talents. It takes a lot to impress a New Yorker and they did. Thank you to the sound guy as well! By the way, the artists' work will be on display at the library until the New Year, so check it out. There's some great stuff.
I especially want to thank the audience for being so receptive and positive, and River Laker for bringing out the best of Roanoke.
Script completed and videos delivered. Voice don't fail me now.
Yup, tomorrow night's celebration of independent aritists, and the release of my eBook Fractured Facade, is almost upon us, and the music line-up is amazing. I am so psyched to hear the following renditions...
"My Way" - Daniel Francis Gardener "You Can't Put Your Arms Around a Memory" - Ron Bergeron "Mother" - Laker "Free Money" - Josa Wakes "Rip Her To Shreds" - Josa Wakes "See No Evil" - Savannah Shoulders "Psycho Killer" - Madrone "Lust for Life" - Keith Bowniece "Walk on the Wild Side" - Madrone "Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue" = HeeVaHaVa "Christmas Lights" - Matthew John Mortimer "Feed the World" - Everyone
Maybe instead of NYC...Live in Roanoke!, we should have called this event Roanoke's Punkapalooza!
The only artwork I've seen thus far (besides my photos) is Sam Hensley's "Empire State Building" constructed of VHS tapes, and it's something to behold. Looking forward to seeing other artists' work as well.
Just a couple of changes from what was reported in Mike Allen's Roanoke Times column -- Didn't have time to shoot the skit, there's only 9 bands, and you will be making your own egg creams.
***UPDATE*** - No, you will not be making egg creams, after all. Concerns were expressed, so ice cream from Maggie Moo's is replacing the NYC iconic beverage. That's cool...pizza is from NYC, and Maggie's is from Roanoke...yet, another bridge between the book's settings of Roanoke and New York.
I hope you come out and support Roanoke's independent (insert creative media here) scene. And please do not forget to support our community by bringing a Toy for a Tot and a non-perishable item for the Rescue Mission.
Have you noticed lately that Roanoke's cool quotient has been rising? Maybe it's always been that way, but I was too ensconced in my little mommy bubble to realize it, but now that I feel like I'm "getting my life back" I'm excited to be part of it.
For instance...I had never listened to a podcast before, but when I saw that Tad Dickens of the Roanoke Times had interviewed punk/underground pioneer Marty Thau, who by the way is a Roanoke resident, I gave it a spin. It was a great interview and I was sorry I couldn't attend Marty's talk at another cool place, Bazaar Consignments. Located on Colonial Avenue it's the only place I know of where you can still find vinyl records. They bill themselves as having: Records, Art, Vintage & Antique, Clothes, Consignments and more...the more part is live music.
I had already made plans the night Marty was speaking to attend a special screening of This is Spinal Tap at The Shadowbox, Roanoke's community microcinema located on Kirk Street. According to their Facebook page, "We do cool shit." And they do. On December 2nd they'll be showing "I Shot Andy Warhol" which is going to kick off a multipart Andy Warhol exhibition.
"Roanoke College, Hollins University and Washington and Lee University all have received Warhol works from the foundation that will be shown as part of a three-part exhibition, "In the Event of Andy Warhol," that aims to demonstrate how the artist, who died in 1987, remains relevant today...
The offbeat theater (Shadowbox) will also be making video recordings of Warhol-style "screen tests," in which the subject looks at, speaks to or otherwise acts out in front of the camera, usually without accompanying sound.
The screen tests will play during the subsequent phases of the exhibition. Washington and Lee will open its show Jan. 9, Roanoke College's will open March 1, and the Hollins show will open May 31.
The collaboration "is a perfect example of local arts organizations working together to create something amazing," said Shadowbox owner Jason Garnett."
How cool is that?
Kirk Avenue Music Hall, located at the same address as the Shadowbox, is Roanoke’s premiere live music venue. According to their website, "Kirk Avenue Music Hall presents musical events in a relaxed, smoke-free setting with the focus on the stage. No frills, TVs or fusion menus. Just what matters at a music venue: exceptional music, clear sound, dedicated fans and not a bad seat in the house."
Laker, yes that would be River Laker, is appearing Friday night at 8:00pm. "Until 5 months ago River Laker had never been in a band nor written a song nor played any musical instruments. After seeing a Heevahava show at the Coffeepot in Roanoke, River knew where his destiny lay, and a new experiment was born: The Laker Experiment. Within a 6 month period River formed the band, “Laker”, wrote & recorded 10 songs, signed with the label The UNcommonwealth, released an EP, “Approaching Acceptability”, made a music video."
I will definitely be there.
Of course, I would be remiss if I didn't mention another cool upcoming event, on Thursday, December 15th at 6:00pm -- "NYC...Live in Roanoke!" Being held at the Roanoke Public Library Downtown, it will be a break from the conventional format of what one might expect from an author's book release event...in this case, my eBook, Fractured Facade.
I won't be signing any books, but through vignettes I will be sharing my journey, and the stage, by creating a bridge between the tale's settings of Roanoke, VA and Brooklyn, NY through the talents of other independent artists. Inspired by a NYC theme, musicians will perform live, and visual artists will exhibit their work. Although the "official FB event invite hasn't been sent out, you can check out the above link to find out more info. When the musician info is posted, I hope you will be as impressed as I am.
I'm so thrilled that Roanoke has someone like River who has transformed the library from a place to just read books to a venue that allows Roanoke's creative community to be able to showcase their talents through unique events. Thank you River, thank you musicians, thank you artists, and thank you Roanoke for supporting the arts. Now if only there was a place to buy real Italian bread, cookies, pastries, and Breakstone Butter, I would never have to go back to Brooklyn.
Visitors to the Roanoke Valley, and in particular, those who came to Roanoke College on Monday, got to experience the beauty that is Southwest Virginia this time of the year. Yesterday, the first students who were semi-finalists for Roanoke College's Scholarship descended upon Salem to compete for the coveted awards. Yes, my daughter was one of them and we didn't have to travel as far as some of the folks I met had to.
I spoke with parents of students from Colorado, Connecticut and Maryland. Their kids, like my daughter, have had their mailboxes inundated with offers from across the country trying to entice them to attend their college. I literally have a Rubbermaid tub filled with brochures, papers and award letters. Marie could go to quite a few well-known universities, including NYU, free of charge. But she is smitten with Roanoke College.
She told me that many of the potential students she met, who lived out of state, wanted to go to Roanoke College, just so they could be far away from home. When they heard she lived only a couple of miles away, they thought she was "crazy" that she wanted to stay so close to home. I'm thrilled that she wants to stay "so close to home" even if she really wants to live on campus. She'll have plenty of time after she graduates to wind up in some far-away city. Of course, I hope she finds a good-paying job and chooses to remain right here in the Valley after she does graduate.
Anyway, yesterday's competition entailed writing an essay on the spot, listening to currently enrolled students, and then having a one-on-one interview with a professor. She was a little nervous, but thrilled when the professor she was interviewing with invited her to sit on his history class where they would be discussing the Holocaust. She is a history buff, and begged me to let her go. Even though Monday's are the day I take my chemo pills, and I was barely able to keep my head up, I would never deny her that opportunity, so naturally I encouraged her to sit in. I stayed at the library while she tasted her first college class.
When I saw her descending the stairs from the grand old building, folders in hand, the wind whipping her hair gently, I have to tell you I teared up. It looked like she belonged there. When she saw me waiting in the car, a huge smile spread across her face. She excitedly told me about the class and how interesting the professor was. "I'm definitely signing up for that class!" I hated to remind her, "if you go here."
Look, every time we go back to Roanoke College we love it more and more, and I don't want to burst her bubble, but I'm just being a realist. There are only 3 spots open for a full scholarship. Hundreds are applying. And although I truly believe she does deserve it, not only because of her academic performance, but for all she's had to deal with and overcome in her life, all the while never complaining and keeping a pure heart, things like a free scholarship just don't happen in our lives. We always have to work doubly hard for everything.
When I asked her if the interviewer saw all the scars on her legs from her operations, or if she mentioned that she would be the first female in her family to attend college, she rolled her eyes at me. "No, Mom, I can do this without playing the pity card. I'm pulling a 4.3 right now, did good on the SAT and pulled 4 & 5's on the AP exams. That's got to count for something!"
We'll see. I'm already proud of her for getting this far. Like I told her, if it's meant to be, it'll be...
I have to give the Roanoke Times credit, not only for running my commentary which they gave a great headline to, "Make way for the new punk" on the front page of the Horizon section, but for running another commentary lamenting "Suddenly, everyone is a published writer" right next to mine.
The major difference in our attitudes is made clear in the first paragraph of Betsy's commentary when she writes..."In fact, my brother's book came out a week before mine. But don't buy his. Buy mine. It's funnier, or at least, the cover is. I haven't looked at the inside of his yet." I would never tell someone to not buy my brother's book, or that mine is "better," especially if I hadn't "looked at the inside of his yet!"
No, I'm of the mind set that independent anything...authors, artists, musicians, etc. should be celebrated, not only for their talent, but for having the tenacity to overcome all the negativity that is often thrown their way by people who think they're "better" than them.
That's why I am thrilled that so many musicians and artists have agreed to share the stage with me on December 15th, 6:00pm, at Roanoke's Main Library Downtown for an event called, "NYC...Live in Roanoke!" which not only celebrates the release of "Fractured Facade," but the re-emergence of the independent.
"In breaking away from the conventional format of what one might expect from an author’s book release event, Elena DeRosa, local author of the recently published eBook “Fractured Façade,” and Roanoke Public Libraries, are collaborating to present “NYC...Live in Roanoke!”
The author won’t be signing any books, but through vignettes, will share her journey, and the stage. Rather than read a chapter or two from her book, the author endeavors to create a bridge between the tale’s settings of Roanoke, VA and Brooklyn, NY, through the talents of other independent artists. Inspired by a New York City theme, musicians will perform live and visual artists’ exhibit their work.
The evening, “NYC...Live in Roanoke!” promises to continue the tradition of Roanoke Public Libraries celebrating our creative community, showcasing talent through unique events that have become synonymous with the downtown library.
In the spirit of the holiday season, a request is made to bring an unwrapped new toy for Toys for Tots, as well as a non-perishable food item that would be donated to the Rescue Mission.
We're hoping that this event will be the pinnacle of events so far at Roanoke Main Library in terms of cultural creativity.
A big part of the inspiration for this event came from a recent blog post titled: Independent Authors & Punk Rockers http://mselenaeousrants.blogspot.com/2011/10/independent-authors-punk-rockers.html
Refreshments served - authentic NYC menu of course.
Free."
Just so you know, I'm damned proud of the written result of three years' worth of blood, sweat, and tears that I spilled on my keyboard to bring my tale to light, but I'm no better than anyone else...
Fractured Facade is available at Smashwords, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and all eReader stores. You can read a sample and see if it's worth $4.99 to you ;)
Thanks to Facebook I found out today is Neil Young's birthday. From the first moment I heard his voice, I became enchanted. It was in the early '70's, and up until then I was an ardent AM Radio fan. I spent whatever money I would find hidden in the couches on 45's at the local candy store. My prized possession was my friend's record of Peter St. Crispin's "Pied Piper." I would make her play it for me constantly. The day she wedged it in between her carpet and the wall, struck it with a clarinet, and broke it, was the day I began hating her.
After I got a job, and didn't have to scrounge in between the cushions for change, I began to shift away from 45's to full albums. The earliest ones I remember buying were The Beach Boys (from a bargain bin), Bette Midler (loved Fever) and Cat Stevens (he looked hot on the cover). Then somewhere, with someone, I heard Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young. Neil's voice immediately called out to me, and after I heard "Southern Man," I ran out and bought "After the Goldrush."
It was my album, and I didn't have to depend on the kindness of others to hear it, so I played it constantly. It's still my favorite Neil Young album. I was turned onto FM Radio, WNEW-FM, and that was the end of AM bubblegum music for me, so thank you Neil for plunging me into the world of rock 'n roll, and happy birthday!!!
I found this great version of "Helpless" today. Patti Smith does her own version on one of her albums, which I think is fantastic, and much better than her "Smells Like Teen Spirit" one. On this video she, and some other musicians, join Neil. Together they give me goosebumps...
Some of today’s independent authors remind me of yesterday’s punk rockers…and that’s a good thing. For the most part, music in the seventies was dominated by stadium rock icons signed to the handful of large record labels. Unknown bands, realizing it would be a futile struggle to wrestle the keys from the record gods, chose instead to create new locks.
With their new sound, new look, and new attitudes the rockers didn’t fit into the established genre. They knew there was a market for them, maybe not the same mainstream market as had ruled the radio waves, but a different, vibrant, and fresh one, that had been ignored.
Established rules didn’t drive these artists, creativity did. Sure, chords were important, but who’s to say three pounding chords were less impressive than a cacophony of multiple ones? It was all a matter of taste, and these independent artists’ goal was to at least provide a sample they could serve to their audience. With total control over every aspect of their career, the musicians and other unsigned artists, created their future.
In a time before internet, when “getting the word out” was very different, the independent artists booked their own shows, designed their own flyers, pounded the pavement, and posted them on every available light pole and vacant wall. If they attracted folks through the door and into their show, they hoped some would find their talent appealing, word of mouth would spread, and their audience would grow. They booked their own recording sessions, pressed vinyl, cassettes, and eventually cds, and sold them for five bucks at their shows, and through fanzines.
When word spread, labels came looking at bands. Some became very successful, others not so much. Talent rose to the top, while the posers faded away. I never considered the success of such artists as Patti Smith, the Ramones and Blondie, to name a few, as “selling out” as some of the punk rockers claimed they had. They all started with the same spark, and it was up to them to set the fire that would blaze in the bellies of their audience.
The same can be said of today’s independent authors. In a market where the Big Six publishing companies would rather grant a huge contract deal to someone like Snooki, who proudly claims she only read one book in her life, rather than even look at sample chapters from a “nobody” because they don’t have a built-in audience, self-publishing independent authors have created their own destiny. And just like some bands really sucked, some authors do too, and it’s not just independents. But, even the talented independents have to work harder to prove they are “worthy.” And the ones that are, will. Just give them a chance…
By the way, I was a punk rocker, and now, I am an independent author.
Here's a video from Television, a band that never achieved the success I believe they deserved...
It's been a year since I was first diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. I guess the worst part of it came last week when I saw my rheumatologist and asked him, "So when do I get off the Methotrexate?" and he answered, "Never." What...the...hell?
After I picked my jaw up off the floor I reminded him that during my initial visit a year ago he claimed we could put the RA into remission by dosing me heavy with the horrible MTX. Was that just a ploy so I wouldn't feel "devasted" by my diagnosis and sink into deep depression? He countered some people do go into remission, but it's very rare. In order to qualify that someone is in remission, my RA level and inflammation level would have to be "normal" and I would have to be pain free for over a year. I am nowhere near that.
I finally stopped taking prednisone three weeks ago and the consequences of that action have enabled me to sleep better, but also have raised my inflammation and pain levels. It's a damned if you do, damned if you don't. And damned, I don't want to be on it anymore, so I am dealing with the pain as best as I can.
To look at me you wouldn't know I have this disease unless you could read something in my eyes, or notice I cannot open a jar without help. You wouldn't see my struggle to get out of bed some mornings, but my husband does. I try not to complain but he knows when I'm having a flare up. He's been very good with it, although it gets really annoying when he still asks me, "What can I do to help you?" There is nothing you can do to help me. It really irks me when he follows up with, "I could never imagine that you would get something like this." You don't have to "imagine" it, it's happened. "There's got to be something you can take."
There are no magic pain pills. I can't even take Tylenol because the MTX is hard on the liver and so is acetaminophen. And so far I've been "lucky" that my liver has been able to handle the MTX. I go for blood work every other month to make sure. It seems my pattern of taking the chemo pills on Monday and then waiting until Thursday evening to drink is working. I've pushed the envelope a little and allow myself to imbibe throughout the weekend, clearing out my body for 24 hours before the Monday MTX dosage. But I can't drink as much as before, and not only because of the potential liver damage. My blood counts are so low that my body reacts as if every drink is equal to two drinks. I know exactly how many glasses of wine I could tolerate. So far, so good.
Another side effect of taking a chemo medication is loss of hair. Lately I've noticed I've been losing more strands than usual. It could be a seasonal thing so I'm not going to panic, yet. If it happens I will buy a wig in every color and have fun with it. In the beginning, I used to keep a pain chart based on the weather, humidity, and barometric pressure, trying to determine if I could see a pattern. Once I realized even if I did find a common link I still wouldn't be able to do anything about it, I figured I was just wasting my time. And if there's one thing RA has taught me is that time is precious and not meant to be wasted.
When I say I don't have a year to spare I mean it. I live on the edge of wondering if today is the day I wake up and I'm rendered severely disabled. Yet, in my glorious belief in miracles, I know I can be cured. I believe in healing. Don't know when, don't know how, but do know life is meant to live now. Waiting for that "special" occasion to wear that "special" dress will only gather dust. Everyday is special.
Nope, I don't have a year to spare. And that's another reason I've decided not to go the traditional publishing route for my book. Too long to print. Deadlines? Yeah, I want to set my own. And that trip out West I've always dreamed about? That's happening next year. I don't want to drive a Hover-round along the Grand Canyon's rim. I'm hiking it. I'm taking a month to drive tothe West and visit all the locations I've always felt drawn to. No more waiting for the, "We'll go out West after -- insert parental obligation here -- is finished."
So, on this RA anniversary -- physically, I feel much better than I did one year ago when I thought I had bone cancer. RA sucks, but it's nothing I can't handle. There's much worse diseases out there. Mentally? Better than I felt a year ago. It's liberating when you give into your heart.
When I came home from lunch at Torino's (highly recommend), I wondered who had made coffee and spilled grounds. As I got closer I saw the grounds were milling around and then moving up and down a trail along my windowsill. They were the first ants I've seen all year. And they weren't there when I left.
Ants give me the willies. These were very tiny ants, which really make me squirm. So, the first instinct is to grab the Lysol Anti-bacterial and start spraying. That gets rid of some of them but doesn't stop the army from marching. One must kill the nest. The best product I've found to accomplish that mission is Terro. I discovered Terro from a friend while visiting her in Florida. She swore of its miraculous powers. And it was easy to use...no spraying. Just rip a piece of cardboard off the packaging, place some drops of the poisonous honey looking goo, and set it near the trail.
Patience is key when using Terro. First you have to wait for a scout to discover it. Once that happens all the troops begin to follow. They start on the rim and work their way inwards. On a dime-sized blob of Terro, there could be hundreds of ants. Your instinct is to grab that bottle and spray again. Don't! Let the little guys munch away and bring it back to their queen. That kills the nest.
Within 24 hours there'll be no activity near the cardboard, and probably many ants dead stuck on it. Remove it, spray the counter, and watch while nothing happens. There's no smell either. Props to Terro.
With today's visit to Roanoke College I am thrilled to report that our college quest has come to a happy end. This is the one. We loved everything about it.
I suspected we were heading in the right direction, not only because the school had a name tag typed up and a Roanoke College t-shirt for my daughter, but after listening to a short presentation by the admissions person. She touched on areas no other college has touched on, explained how Roanoke College is changing with the times via their general education courses and not once directed anyone to go to the website to find an answer to their question.
After another fellow spoke on areas she hadn't touched, he showed two videos. Lo and behold, the students in these videos actually seemed like they had received a decent and well-rounded education. I took it as a good sign when one of the students spoke about her major and I recognized one of the bluegrass guitar players she was jamming with -- a really nice guy who I've heard pick many times.
Before we went on a student guided tour the school showed real class by handing us ice cold water bottles and cookies to help cool us in the hot sun and keep our blood sugar up. This tour guide was wonderful. She was an intelligent rising senior who knew the answers to all our questions.
We actually got to see the inside of buildings, classrooms, library, cafeteria, fitness center and dorm rooms. For a school that was built in 1842 it's remarkably well kept and up-to-date. This is the new language building, recently completed and sporting green technology.
All the dorms are air conditioned and have wireless capability as well. The rooms themselves are small but the outside sitting area is a nice size.
The bathrooms were also large and clean, and what I really liked was that in each dorm there was a kitchen area.
In the common area I would have sworn we were in a classy hotel lobby with a gift shop, couches, chairs, computers and a really cool game room. The only thing missing was the slot machines.
The grounds are beautiful and I love the feel of the place.
I like old, but it's not decrepit, it's classy. I got great vibes everywhere I went. In fact, I liked it so much I would let my daughter live on campus there, even though Salem is only a couple of miles from home. They allow freshman to have cars as well.
My two concerns were the programs offered and the price. Yesterday my daughter directed a news segment live, worked the teleprompter and did some coding for the local newscast. After the three years she has spent in the Mass Communications program at Burton as well as interning, there is nothing that a college is going to teach her that would rival actual experience. She decided getting a BA in Communications wouldn't be mandatory for her career choice and didn't want the lack of television production classes at Roanoke College stop her from considering it. Her other love is history and the history classes they offer more than suit her desires. She could get a BA in History as her major, minor in Communications and have a concentration in Italian. Yes, they offer Italian.
By the time we finished the visit my daughter was head over heels in love with the place. By the way, she almost cancelled going today because she didn't think it would suit her. I talked her into it, and loved that she hugged me tightly afterwards, "Thank you Mommy. I'm so glad I listened to you. I really appreciate everything you do for me." You're welcome.
Now the hard part...the price. It is not cheap. They said they do offer merit based scholarships as well as need based. My daughter thinks her grades are high enough that she'll be accepted and that she could get the price way down. She's already compiling private scholarship applications and said she is determined to go there. "I'm not even applying anywhere else and I'm going to ask the station if they'll hire me part-time after my internship is over."
I let her know I can only contribute so much and the rest is up to her, and if it's meant to be, it'll be. I think it's meant to be.
I can't believe we've had this gem in our backyard the whole time...
On Sunday we walked along Fifth Avenue from 32nd Street to meet our Docent on 10th Street so we could watch the Pride Parade together.
Since NY passed the right for gays to marry the night before the atmosphere along the route was giddy.
I had never attended this parade before and was astonished at how large it was. Everyone was so happy and gay.
I could only imagine the pain this guy felt walking all the way from 34th Street in those heels. My feet were killing me and I was in flip-flops...
Yes, that's Alex and Simon from Real Housewives of New York. Wonder where Sonya was...
I have never seen so many floats, more than the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade...
These guys and dolls loved striking a pose...
The parade was a blast. My only complaints were that there were so many people that it was difficult to get around -- the stores we planned on shopping at in the Village were all closed -- and the darn thing went on forever. We left after four hours, went to get something to eat, and discovered it was still going strong when we tried to make our way back to the west side.
Luckily I had picked a restaurant on St. Mark's Place so we didn't have to try to cross the parade to get something to eat. We ventured into The Crooked Tree, a little hole in the wall that specializes in crepes.
It was wonderful, and possibly the best meal I had while in Manhattan. They also have special sandwiches and the best fried zucchini I ever had. Here's my Docent trying to get the secret ingredient out of the chef...
The white sangria was fabulous and is made with pear nectar. I had two glasses and the waiter did something that never happens in Roanoke -- he bought me another glass. I don't get why people say New Yorkers are rude. I think New Yorkers are the most personable and fun people. I never feel like I'm amongst strangers when I'm there.
As soon as we escaped MOMA we headed downtown to the Chelsea area to meet some friends. The first stop was The Hotel Chelsea which looks the same as it ever has, except there weren't any junkies hanging outside like the last time I visited it.
After taking some photos my docent suggested we meet my friends at Dallas BBQ on 23rd Street because Lord knows, we don't have any barbecue joints in Roanoke. It was actually pretty good, especially the vegetable tempura and onion loaf. But the highlight of the meal was having my daughter served a piece of cornbread with whipped cream on it while the staff sang Happy Birthday to her.
No, it wasn't her birthday and she was taken totally by suprise as the little stinker thought they were coming over to the table to embarrass me. Oh you should have seen her snickering with my cousin as she plotted with him to tell them it was my birthday. Evil minds think alike. Haha!
My friend and her two children joined us. They just moved back to New York from Orlando -- according to her "I put my time in" and were promptly greeted with a Welcome Back to NY $65.00 parking ticket. Don't forget to face the little piece of paper UP on your dashboard! We decided to walk off the three thousand calorie meal so we all headed to The High Line, a beautiful new elevated park which runs along the West Side from 34th Street to Gansevoort Street. Here's a view of the Chrysler Building from it.
It's good to see NYC put to use the space abandoned for years where once a railroad stood.
I said at least we can say, "We went to the High Line when it was free!" because I suspect that Bloomberg will one day charge people to walk along it. They also have wooden chaise lounges that I can see the city charging folks to lay on much as resorts do on beaches across the country.
Besides the beautiful views, what I really liked about the elevated park was that no bicycles, skaters, or dogs were allowed. I did see a bride and one of the chef contestantss from Master Chef walking along it and was tempted to say something to him, but us New Yorkers always ignore "celebrities" so I didn't.
I even saw some pizza being delivered. And after walking in the hot sun the vendors selling ice and gelato were most welcome. My friend's kids partook in a cucumber/lime ice pop with hot spices sprinkled on it. And I opted for shaved ice of plum and mint. It was one of those things where I couldn't decide if I loved it or hated it, but it was cool and refreshing.
One of the apartments across had a sense of humor and the tenant installed a piece of art of a hand waving in the window that rivalled some of the art we found at MOMA.
Here's a couple more shots I took during our walk...
That's the Statue of Liberty in the background...
When we got to the end of the line we decided to walk the streets back. I can't believe how much the Meat District has changed. We didn't see one tranny along the way but tons of new trendy restaurants. Ah, if only I was 20 years younger...
Such a beautiful view, but it was time to head back to the hotel to rest up for Sunday and the big parade...
