Crying Wolf

Hey, Welcome to Fav Lyrics Friday. This week check out Blitzen Trapper's "Furr". I discovered this-- where else?-- on The Current (single-handedly saving music radio). The song tells a bit of a story which you don't hear much of these days, and yanks at a weird taproot in my brain about fantasies I'd have as a kid, about turning into an animal and running away to live in the wild, and I'd almost always pick being a wolf! (And from 17 to 23, I kind of was a wild animal-- Ask my parents.) Anyway, these guys sound awesome and they're playing the Turf Club Nov 8th--- hmm, what else is going on that day? -- Oh yeah, my awesome art show!

Check it out-- listen along in the player for the full effect (email subscribers go to my actual blog for this). Enjoy! (and hey-- support artists you enjoy by buying their music, from them when possible. iTunes only gives them like 9 cents a song.)

Yeah, when I was only 17,
I could hear the angels whispering
So I drove into the words and
wondered aimlessly about
until I heard my mother shouting through the fog
It turned out to be the howling of a dog
or a wolf to be exact.
The sound sent shivers down my back
but I was drawn into the pack.
And before long,
they allowed me to join in and sing their song.
So from the cliffs and highest hill, yeah
we would gladly get our fill,
howling endlessly and shrilly at the dawn.
And I lost the taste for judging right from wrong.
For my flesh had turned to fur, yeah
And my thoughts, they surely were
turned to instinct and obedience to God.

You can wear your fur
like the river on fire.
But you better be sure
if your makin' God a liar.
I'm a rattlesnake, babe,
I'm like fuel on fire.
So if you're gonna' get made,
don't be afraid of what you've learned.

On the day that I turned 23,
I was curled up underneath a dogwood tree.
When suddenly a girl
with skin the color of a pearl,
she wandered aimlessly,
but she didn't seem to see.
She was listenin' for the angels just like me.
So I stood and looked about.
I brushed the leaves off of my snout.
And then I heard my mother shouting through the trees.
You should have seen that girl go shaky at the knees.
So I took her by the arm
we settled down upon a farm.
And raised our children up as
gently as you pleased.

And now my fur has turned to skin.
And I've been quickly ushered in
to a world that I confess I do not know.
But I still dream of running careless through the snow.
An' through the howlin' winds that blow,
across the ancient distant flow,
it fill our bodies up like water till we know.

You can wear your fur
like the river on fire.
But you better be sure
if your makin' God a liar.
I'm a rattlesnake, babe,
I'm like fuel on fire.
So if you're gonna' get made,
don't be afraid of what you've learned.

What A Tool . . .

Ok-- Let's review. This is a slag hammer. It's used to knock off the crusty, burnt, molten steel residue found on the edge of cuts. This is done by whaling on the edge of said cut until this pesky "slag" is dislodged. Given the abuse this piece of equipment endures, I really can't imagine why anyone would want it compared with a tender, and yes, vital part of their anatomy.

Imagine my surprise when THIS came up on my Google alerts.
"J' accuse Urban Dictionary!" For the uninitiated, Urban Dictionary is a kind of wikipedia dictionary of mostly kid-speak, where anyone can go online and contribute to the zeitgeist of amercian slag. It also exists in print form and you may have seen it in the writing section at ye old brick and mortar book store.

It's a fun read. As a writer I'm fascinated with words and unusual twists in language, and I've been "all-up-in-there with the cromulent, crunk-ass jibber-jabber", but Urban Dictionary, if you're going to start including anything some dude decides to name his unit-- you've jumped the shark fellas.

First of all, and I mean no offense to you dudes out there, but really, your units aren't all that super compelling. I mean, literally about half the people on Earth have them... and if you must continually come up with metaphors, allow me to throw some suggestions out there, because I'm not giving you slag hammer. Back the eff offa' dat one.

If you like the "tool" thing, how about this? It's even got a bad-ass flame job, and it looks like it has interchangeable heads. Now that would be a handy feature!

Or perhaps this-- it's even called a "reamer." Not even kidding. That's what it's called.

Come on, like you haven't secretly thought of this one all on your own anyway...

The french have quite a rep as randy swordsmen. How about this?
Women are generally fond of carbs...

This one comes up from time to time...

As long as we're visiting the food world, how about this number? I mean, really...
Just look at that thing. I'm just sayin'.

So, we clear Urban Dictionary? No more gankin' my slag hammer. I'm Heismanning that little move effective immediately. Nopers my friend. Fives on that one. Peace out homies. I'm outie.

Driveway Coolage

The rain that never came yesterday showed up today. I've spent all day on the frickin' 'puter, feeling like my wheels were spinning. I spent all morning applying online for some freelance blogging position. Apparently hitting the send button caused their server to explode like the deathstar. The company ceased to exist the moment I completed their lengthy, time-sucking form.

Here are some things that made me like my driveway yesterday.

No idea what this is, but I like it and am keeping it.

The other thing I accomplished today was finally ordering my "Moo cards", one of which will feature this design-- one of my creepily disturbing "watchers" from my novel... spoooookeeee. I had to order two sets of cards, some with tamer, prettier pictures of just my artwork because--
I decided I needed another whole blog for just my artwork. Lot's of what goes on here is a little to weird for most of my art clientele, but this is me, and I like hanging with you slaghammer folks-- so. Two blogs. The other one isn't really up and running, but there's a placeholder at the imaginatively named "Sue Seegers Art . blogspot . com" which you can get to through my profile page. If anyone has any helpful comments on this whole sitch, whether things are clear etc, they would be appreciated.

That's it for today. The rocking pillow and cookie sheet await.

Mid-day Addendum

OK-- So it actually wound up being pretty nice today so I am in the driveway after all. (Time to weld the doughnuts)

I just heard a tremendous squeaking squawking cacophony so naturally went crashing blindly into the underbrush to see what poor woodland creature one of my cats was torturing to death and arrived just in time to see a blue jay fly right out of Camper's mouth into a nearby tree.

I looked at him, and pointing and using a harsh tone so he'd know how very much I disapproved of his behavior said, "Camper-- that was very VERY naughty."

He kind of licked his chops and just looked back at me calmly, tail still twitching and said, "Actually it was delicious-- almost."

Horse v.s. Bike

Today is a jewelry / excavating the stained glass workspace day because it's raining and also my neck and head are killing me. Sometimes when I put in a ton of welding hours this happens because the helmet can begin to feel like one of those heavy, towering, Vegas showgirl headdresses after a while causing the tectonic plates in my head to shift and crackle every time I move.

The good news is my brain is beginning to daydream a bit more in images now. This is a necessary shift. I'm happy for my artwork, and especially for the patient, very nice, Wisconsinite Unitarians, whose commission I didn't want to work on in the mode I've been in. They definitely deserve unobstructed "good flow" art. Now that the pump is finally being primed I can let ideas roll around like rocks in a tumbler and see what gems dump out at the end. The only part about this I don't like is that the shift causes me to kind of "lose" my characters, and that feels scary and lonely, but I've been through it a few times and just have to trust they'll be back when I have time again. I'll be able to write my way back in.

When I went mountain biking recently it had me comparing jumping horses to riding the mountain bike trail. Here are some observations.

1) Weight in your feet, loose hands. With jumping you have to give the horse enough room to do what he needs to with his head, and balance yourself off the saddle by standing on the stirrups. Same thing (kind of) with biking the trail. The front of the bike jumps around a little. You need to hang on enough to control it, but let it do what it has to do too. You're weight is mainly in the back wheel.

2) You go where you're looking. This is apparently bio mechanics. Your head weighs a lot. The horse can feel where you're looking and will head that direction. On a bike it must be a combo of self-fulfilling prophecy and balance. Same thing with surfing btw.

3) When you stop-- suddenly or otherwise-- on a horse, it doesn't fall over on it's side (Good lord! Hopefully!). On the bike you need to be able to get your feet to the ground in a pinch. This is why if I want to keep doing this I'll need a girl bike eventually. Dan's has a tendency to smash the living heck out of my girlnads.

4) The bravery factor-- and learning the course. You get better, and more nerve, the more successful runs you have. It's a bit of a mental game as well.

For something totally different today music-wise check out an amazing artist I learned about on npr's "Radio Lab" (highly recommended listening-- free podcast)--- Zoe Keating. She loops her own cello music through her computer, allowing her to play the cello somewhat like a piano-- layering the sound. Haunting and beautiful. I really lost myself in it for a while.

Weezer Geezer

Ok people-- here's how it went down. This is Mike and his fiance Kendra. They're concert going veterans. Mike's really more into metal (harder rock), but they both like Weezer. These were my chaperones. Mike took all these awesome pictures. We didn't get the memo about striped shirts (click to enlarge striped weirdness).

I was nervous before leaving. I'd gone for a bike ride meaning a shower was in order. My hair, which amazingly hasn't appeared thus far in an "incurring my wrath" post, is curly so doesn't dry very fast. I had to blowdry it which makes it huge-- think brown cotton candy. This made me have to take a curling iron after it. Not the cool, "not really trying" look I was hoping for. I wound up sporting totally middle-aged big poufy hair. Who was I kidding? My normally perfect husband gave me a hug before I left and said, weirdly in the same tone of voice you'd use to say, "Don't worry-- you'll have a great time!"-- "Awe-- you'll be the oldest person there, but have fun..."

Weezer came on (finally) after two warm-up bands. We missed the first one but the second one was really crappy. Some people seemed into it, but we were not. The lead singer had this whole, "Check me out-- a legend in the making " thing going on that was just totally pukey, and all their songs sounded the same-- unremarkable, like regurgitated commercial radio crap.

Weezer started out in white jumpsuits and Rivers (the main guy / the mustache) introduced each member of the band saying stuff like, "Chris, I'd like you to meet some of my twin cities friends. I can personally vouch for the coolness of each and every person here, because they're here." Of course it was pandering, but quirky and sincere in a weird anonymous way and the crowd went nuts.

By nuts I mean a lot of things took place just like I'd imagined. Twenty year old guys charged through the crowd like rhinos dumping beer on whoever got in their way, just barreling right into people. People were lifted above the crowd and passed around-- crowd surfing-- looking like they were being tumbled in a giant washing machine. Bottles and glasses (plastic) of beer were lobbed into the air, and everyone jumped around and sang along and basically jammed out in a completely unrestrained fashion. Amazingly I did not get anything on me, and no one knocked me down, and I never really even felt threatened. Knowing Mike (6'1") was hovering protectively nearby helped.

The guys played a bunch of old favorites and a few off their new album (Red). It was so loud you could sing along without fear of anyone hearing you-- it almost seemed expected actually. After a while they whipped off the jumpsuits and played in red track suits. Part of their image is that they're kind of the "everyman" of rock-- kind of dorky, but cool by virtue of the swagger effect. It's a fine line of making fun of the rockstar persona while living it out. Somehow Rivers pulls it off by letting everyone in on the joke, and writing accessible hit after hit.

It got kind of smokey in there. It's illegal to smoke indoors, but the mob is so concentrated on the floor that security has no hope of controlling really what goes on aside from keeping people off the stage, so people were lighting up all over. If I had to choose I'd rather smell pot than cigarette smoke, but both hung in a haze over the crowd.

I jumped around for about two hours solid growing progressively more hoarse. Near the end the "hootenanny" began. This was a brainstorm of River's-- to invite local musicians to bring any instruments they wanted to the concert and come up on stage to jam with them. Some applied online by posting a video of themselves playing, and some won the opportunity from radio stations.

Rivers went around and talked to many of them, asking who they were, where they were from, how long they'd been playing etc. There was a kid with a flute, a guy with an ude, some guy with a washboard, and as you can see a whole bunch of other folks. It was really friendly feeling. Rivers led them through a couple of well known songs prompting the crowd to sing along, sometimes just the guys, some parts just girls etc. Everyone was smiling and playing along. Good vibes.

That was when it kind of hit me-- here I was in this teeming throng of mostly younger people. Did I feel conspicuously older? No-- it was pretty dark (haha), plus I do like this music and I knew all the songs too. Was I having a good time?-- Yes. Did I feel like I'd found my lost tribe, standing there in the crowd with a huge grin on my face?-- Not really. I felt kind of like Jane Goodall or something. I knew this culture, I even relate in many ways. Music can grab my heart like a frisbee and make it soar up and out and away-- but I wasn't "one of them", this crowd of twenty-something concert goers. I was an infiltrator, an observer.

I'm really glad I got to go to the concert and examine all the shenanigans close-up. If I hadn't I'd always wish I had, and if not now when?-- When I'm 50? 60? 70? No, it needed to be now. I guess what I came to realize was that the affinity I've felt connected to this whole experience is more related to the people on the stage than those in the crowd. I would never in a million years want that life (of a professional musician), but the feeling of inclusiveness and collaboration-- of other creative types totally grooving in synchronized euphoria-- that is pretty damned seductive.

The whole "rock concert" thing is now out of my system-- for now at least, but my search for other members of my creative tribe continues-- for other writers, artists, and maybe even musicians who "fit".

Pelted With Pork and Beans

Yes, that's right-- tonight is Weezer. Check out the hilarious yet awesome "Pork and Beans" video while you can. The embedding will probably be disabled soon on this version too.

For those of you living vicariously through my rocking concert experience-- fear not-- there will be a thorough and comprehensive report tomorrow. I've tagged my husband's nephew to be my first official "slagporter / photojournalist" for the event.

Am I worried I'll be the oldest person there?-- a little. Do i feel just slightly ridiculous being so super excited about this?-- Yeah, but I still am. I tried to get a backstage pass from Rivers (main guy) by offering delicious homemade cookies but he hasn't replied so I guess no face time. Still very psyched.

Tyler and I developed slightly more rapport yesterday at my drum lesson. I think he could tell I've been practicing. I can only assume he's been thinking of this as some kind of time sucking dead end-- having some weird "old lady" for a student-- but I have been working at this. It's fun, and i want to keep learning and improving. Maybe someday I'll be good enough to play with other musicians. It's not over for me. This could be like my olympic aspirations-- some day I could be the best in my entire age class!

Tyler was telling me he put together some of his younger students together to form a "little girl band" of 4th and 5th graders. He was so proud-- said they sounded great. He and their parents proudly looked on while the girls rocked out and the cops showed up to issue them their very first noise complaint. Everybody was very excited and thrilled about that. How freaking awesome! I wish I could hop in the way-back machine and be one of them.

I'm a little bummed I abandoned this part of myself (the rocking out part) for so many years, but maybe it would have pulled me too far off track. At any rate, I'm really having fun with it now. I think I've finally learned you don't have to out and out murder one part of yourself to allow another to surface. I don't have to be "one way". Maybe in my forties all my disparate selves are uniting to form a rocking, creative, introspective, strong, kind, fierce, tender whole.