Today is that grand day that all 6 year olds look forward to every year. They save up all their good behavior in hopes of getting that new basketball hoop they've been hinting at since June. It's Christmas time, and I'm sitting in my Florida room alone and unshowered.
I've lived on my own for 5 years now. In that time my mom has moved to Kentucky, my extended family has stopped celebrating holidays like we did when I was a kid, and I've grown cynical and grumpy about all things Christmas.
When I was a kid my whole family got together. My grandparents would come in from Kentucky around Thanksgiving time and would stay through April. On Christmas day I would wake up as early as my little body would let me. I'd run around the house to wake up my mom and sister. I'd sit right next to the tree so I could pass out all the presents, making sure I always had the last present to open. After all the wrapping paper had been ripped and all the gifts had been played with we would head over to my Aunt Pine's house. The whole family would be there, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins... everyone.
We'd spend the day playing games and making dinner. After a huge meal that usually left me sore and tired we'd sit around and sing Christmas carols. My uncles would pull out their guitars and we'd all sing along to their melodies. I'd sing too, but I never quite knew the words. Instead I would sing "lalalalalala" in the tune of whatever song was being strummed. Once I had requested "Silent Night" for the tenth time my Uncles would smile and tell me it was time for presents.
My Papaw would pull out his camera and videotape each and every gift opened. I was always so proud to show off my kitten sweater or costume jewelry. One year I got a bunny rabbit. I didn't even see him sitting there. My family just kept laughing and I didn't know why. I thought I was doing something really stupid. I turned around to hide my face and I saw him. I screamed so loud I think I scared the neighbors. This was one of the first Christmas's without Papaw, I wish he had been there to catch it on his camera. He would have been very pleased to have that caught on tape for eternity.
This was my Christmas as a kid. Family sitting around bonding and loving each other. Now it's me sitting on a couch talking to my roommate's cat. It's friends feeling sorry for me and inviting me over for the day. But spending time with other families just reminds me it's not my family. That I"m missing out on something. That I miss something.
Damn you Orlando! I hate being here on days like this.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Road Time
Tomorrow I will be setting off on an adventure of sorts. I'll be going on a trip down south to visit some old friends. Aud will be having her biggest art show to date and after that I'll be in Hollywood to finish out the weekend.
I need time away from this city. It's been months since I've ventured further than Deltona. Time spent at home isn't even enough anymore. I just need to escape. Here's to hoping this weekend can do just that!
This is a poem I wrote last time I headed down south. It always makes me long for somewhere else not quite here.
I need time away from this city. It's been months since I've ventured further than Deltona. Time spent at home isn't even enough anymore. I just need to escape. Here's to hoping this weekend can do just that!
This is a poem I wrote last time I headed down south. It always makes me long for somewhere else not quite here.
Loud noises coming from small mouths,
Memories carried by winds headed south.
Unexpected moments caught in tiny glass jars.
Friends made in run down old bars.
Time's running late and hope is fading,
But these small tokens keep me waiting.
For brighter light and shining thoughts,
Bringing back that for which I've fought.
Memories carried by winds headed south.
Unexpected moments caught in tiny glass jars.
Friends made in run down old bars.
Time's running late and hope is fading,
But these small tokens keep me waiting.
For brighter light and shining thoughts,
Bringing back that for which I've fought.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Down Time
Last night was spent indoors. The quiet santuary of cotton jersey sheets and feather pillow overpowered my will. Sometimes the loud calls from the 20-somethings caravaning to a new night of debauchery just isn't enough to rouse me. Sometimes I need time away. Sometimes I just want a burrito from Chipotle and a L Word marathon.
Hibernation was my plan last night. A goal I expect to repeat again tonight. Downtown has become predictable to me. Go out, meet up with friends, watch drama between said friends unfold, get hit on by the same 3 girls, drink one too many red bull and vodkas, dance to songs 3 years too old to still be played in bars and finally go home spinning and horny but too tired to do anything about it. All this only to wake up hung over and drag myself to work for 9 hours while I complain about my state of health.
A few days off is needed from all things. So time spent at home is my time away. I miss you downtown, but not nearly enough to warrant emergence from my warm peaceful bed.
Hibernation was my plan last night. A goal I expect to repeat again tonight. Downtown has become predictable to me. Go out, meet up with friends, watch drama between said friends unfold, get hit on by the same 3 girls, drink one too many red bull and vodkas, dance to songs 3 years too old to still be played in bars and finally go home spinning and horny but too tired to do anything about it. All this only to wake up hung over and drag myself to work for 9 hours while I complain about my state of health.
A few days off is needed from all things. So time spent at home is my time away. I miss you downtown, but not nearly enough to warrant emergence from my warm peaceful bed.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Will's Pub
The stench, the dirt, the drunken guy running into me as he makes his way towards the bar. Ah… the memories I carry with me of that heavenly hole that was Will’s Pub. Now torn down to make way for the “new and improved” Mills Avenue, I’m left with nothing more than those memories. And of course a giant empty plot of land.
I used to go to Will’s almost once a week. Sometimes for a show, other times just to watch as people drank themselves into oblivion. Will’s wasn’t a place for the faint of heart. On its best days it reeked of the projectile efforts of its patrons, and on its worst it was pretty much the same. The bar was always a little too crowded and the back room felt like a freezer box, but it was home. Home to me and hundreds of others like me who were looking for a place a little off center.
And that is what Will’s was; A haven for the lost, a home for those that belonged no where else. Men in drag, trailer trash, skaters, mods, indie kids… You name it, we were there. Making a niche in this city of oversized mice and talking ducks. Will’s was our distraction from the touristy doldrums of everyday life in Orlando. A place where natives could call their own and feel comfortable.
But on the horizon, a small hope. Will’s Pub is being reopened in a new location. Just a few blocks from the empty dirt lot where it used to stand, a new whole in the wall is being erected. But new is not a word I like to use with Will’s. May this Will’s be as grimy and gross as the old. May it’s patrons shock you with their banter and outlandish attitudes. And may it once again bring a community often overlooked back together. Here’s to Will’s! Now pass me the Blue Moon…
I used to go to Will’s almost once a week. Sometimes for a show, other times just to watch as people drank themselves into oblivion. Will’s wasn’t a place for the faint of heart. On its best days it reeked of the projectile efforts of its patrons, and on its worst it was pretty much the same. The bar was always a little too crowded and the back room felt like a freezer box, but it was home. Home to me and hundreds of others like me who were looking for a place a little off center.
And that is what Will’s was; A haven for the lost, a home for those that belonged no where else. Men in drag, trailer trash, skaters, mods, indie kids… You name it, we were there. Making a niche in this city of oversized mice and talking ducks. Will’s was our distraction from the touristy doldrums of everyday life in Orlando. A place where natives could call their own and feel comfortable.
But on the horizon, a small hope. Will’s Pub is being reopened in a new location. Just a few blocks from the empty dirt lot where it used to stand, a new whole in the wall is being erected. But new is not a word I like to use with Will’s. May this Will’s be as grimy and gross as the old. May it’s patrons shock you with their banter and outlandish attitudes. And may it once again bring a community often overlooked back together. Here’s to Will’s! Now pass me the Blue Moon…
Friday, March 7, 2008
The Walkmen
Last night the Social was taken over by the usual round of suspects; The mods, the skaters, the hippies, and those like me that fit somewhere in the midst of all the labels. My friend Joe had called to invite me to see The Walkmen play. At first I was a little reluctant. I had to work in the morning, I was getting sick and I had just sat down to eat my sushi platter. But somewhere between the California roll and the chocolate cake I decided to throw caution to the wind. I hadn’t been to a show in a while, and I had really wanted to see The Walkmen. Plus the ticket was free!
I met up with Joe and his new girlfriend downtown. It was my first meeting with the new “other” in Joe’s life, but she soon won me over with her exquisite taste in music. We sat around discussing upcoming shows and picking apart the mods incessant need to wear pants so tight you see the change in their pockets. I was yawning… Still tired from my 7am work day. Soon I found myself alone as Joe and his girl talked in that way super cute couples do. I looked around to see if there were any girls that I could pretend to want a super cute relationship with for the night, but few were found. As I skimmed the crowd one last time I heard a rumble of applause as the first band took to the stage.
They were called Strangers. A fitting title… A last minute replacement band (Vampire Weekend were unable to attend), Strangers are a local act that may take them selves a bit too seriously. They seemed to be striving to invoke The Doors musical genius, but fell far short. From the oil filtered spot light shining on a white bed sheet behind the drummer to the almost constant use of tambourine it was hard to miss the psychedelic overtones. Unfortunately Strangers appeared more like scared boys “about to go to Synagogue” (as Joe so pointedly put it) than rock gods. Check them out if you want something masquerading as inspired.
Next up was local favorite, Mumpsy. Made up of the remnants of the now defunct Heathens, I was hoping to hear something spectacular. Lead singer Jeff Ilgenfritz failed to disappoint. It was my first time hearing Mumpsy since they had fleshed out as a whole band. The sound was wonderful and the energy never lacking. The harmonies were at times off and there were a couple of songs where the bass was giving feedback, but they handled it with style. Bassist Phil Longo even joked that “no band really [needed] a bass player.” Oh, Phil! You would have won me over with your self-deprecation alone. Mumpsy is doing us all a favor by bringing integrity back to pop music.
Finally it was time for The Walkmen to take the stage. By this point it was midnight and I was due for some shut-eye. I had toyed with the thought of going home early, but I stuck around begrudgingly. As I lend against the railing, eyes drooping like a bugged out stoner I saw a very tall man wearing what can only be described as what your little brother would have worn to private school. I was sure all the smoke in the air had gotten to me. But as I looked at Joe I saw the same gaping expression that I knew lined my face. What I saw was real, The Walkmens lead singer was a schoolboy wanna-be.
Disappointed I immediately started to look for the best way out. The stairs were viable, but I would have to push through more people. Then… I heard it. That single sound that can take my breath away: A true performer. Hamilton Leithauser’s voice took over the entire room. He seemed to be bleeding the words onto the stage. His sound is reminiscent of Brian Johnson of AC/DC, but more melodic. I realized, I had a schoolgirl crush. A feat considering I’ve had more taco than you could shake a jalapeño at. But alas, I was putty in Hamilton’s hands.
None of the band over preformed. Instead, they let their music take center stage. This wasn’t a show for bells and whistles, or oil-filtered spotlights. This was just a band putting it all out there hoping you’d understand. I would love to pick out one beautiful moment to share, but in truth it is all a magical blur. All the songs blended together as I swayed back and forth. Then as soon as it began, it was over. The obligatory encore was had, though too short in this writer’s opinion. Everyone clapped, the band thanked the crowd, and I headed off into the cold night.
I met up with Joe and his new girlfriend downtown. It was my first meeting with the new “other” in Joe’s life, but she soon won me over with her exquisite taste in music. We sat around discussing upcoming shows and picking apart the mods incessant need to wear pants so tight you see the change in their pockets. I was yawning… Still tired from my 7am work day. Soon I found myself alone as Joe and his girl talked in that way super cute couples do. I looked around to see if there were any girls that I could pretend to want a super cute relationship with for the night, but few were found. As I skimmed the crowd one last time I heard a rumble of applause as the first band took to the stage.
They were called Strangers. A fitting title… A last minute replacement band (Vampire Weekend were unable to attend), Strangers are a local act that may take them selves a bit too seriously. They seemed to be striving to invoke The Doors musical genius, but fell far short. From the oil filtered spot light shining on a white bed sheet behind the drummer to the almost constant use of tambourine it was hard to miss the psychedelic overtones. Unfortunately Strangers appeared more like scared boys “about to go to Synagogue” (as Joe so pointedly put it) than rock gods. Check them out if you want something masquerading as inspired.
Next up was local favorite, Mumpsy. Made up of the remnants of the now defunct Heathens, I was hoping to hear something spectacular. Lead singer Jeff Ilgenfritz failed to disappoint. It was my first time hearing Mumpsy since they had fleshed out as a whole band. The sound was wonderful and the energy never lacking. The harmonies were at times off and there were a couple of songs where the bass was giving feedback, but they handled it with style. Bassist Phil Longo even joked that “no band really [needed] a bass player.” Oh, Phil! You would have won me over with your self-deprecation alone. Mumpsy is doing us all a favor by bringing integrity back to pop music.
Finally it was time for The Walkmen to take the stage. By this point it was midnight and I was due for some shut-eye. I had toyed with the thought of going home early, but I stuck around begrudgingly. As I lend against the railing, eyes drooping like a bugged out stoner I saw a very tall man wearing what can only be described as what your little brother would have worn to private school. I was sure all the smoke in the air had gotten to me. But as I looked at Joe I saw the same gaping expression that I knew lined my face. What I saw was real, The Walkmens lead singer was a schoolboy wanna-be.
Disappointed I immediately started to look for the best way out. The stairs were viable, but I would have to push through more people. Then… I heard it. That single sound that can take my breath away: A true performer. Hamilton Leithauser’s voice took over the entire room. He seemed to be bleeding the words onto the stage. His sound is reminiscent of Brian Johnson of AC/DC, but more melodic. I realized, I had a schoolgirl crush. A feat considering I’ve had more taco than you could shake a jalapeño at. But alas, I was putty in Hamilton’s hands.
None of the band over preformed. Instead, they let their music take center stage. This wasn’t a show for bells and whistles, or oil-filtered spotlights. This was just a band putting it all out there hoping you’d understand. I would love to pick out one beautiful moment to share, but in truth it is all a magical blur. All the songs blended together as I swayed back and forth. Then as soon as it began, it was over. The obligatory encore was had, though too short in this writer’s opinion. Everyone clapped, the band thanked the crowd, and I headed off into the cold night.
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