It's Wednesday, December 11, 2024. It's 5:47pm, not too cold, very dark, and very rainy. Im sitting up in my loft bed and my cat snoozes to my right. I have the window cracked open a little and can hear the rain fall, heavy gusts of wind passing by and all the trees they cause to sway, as well as numerous cars and sirens continuously driving by.
I've been feeling pretty awful lately, in every sense of the word, so my inner doctor is scrambling to find a tested and true remedy.
"What ails you, today?" asks inner doctor.
"Insurmountable hopelessness," I inform them. "The terrifying sensation that where you are now is a place where you are "stuck" and will never be "unstuck" from again. And these are just two of the main layers on one of those fabulous Carvel ice cream cakes. Let's not forget that rocky center that divides the two ice cream flavors, in this case: everything you could possibly fit into the self-loathing suitcase. Also the delicious icing on top: a loneliness beyond belief, accented with that red or blue, sugary gel to spell out every horrible misunderstanding you ever did have." I am locked in direct eye contact with inner doctor this whole time.
Inner doctor checks their notes and compares it against my chart. Their eyes scan all the available data in a most clinical way. They reach for a device - it looks very sanitized, very stainless-steel, very durable and reliable for something that seemingly gets used every single day, several times a day, without fail.
There's a switch and a knob. They flick the switch on and turn the knob until the box receives as clear a picture of a sound as its sterility can muster.
It's literally just a radio.
So I'm filling my prescription right now and administering my meds. I am thinking of songs that I had created with others in some capacity throughout my life. Some are from random jams with friends or lovers, some are band recordings we worked hard on while others not very hard at all, some were just a quick, nearly-forgotten blip from a band rehearsal. They are all of varying sound qualities, but for me, they are ones that I continue to revisit in my head often because they are songs I could never possibly forget.
[an incredibly loud thunder just pierced through mine and my cat's reality just now]
This song was written either in 2001 or 2002 by my punk band in high school. We were called Johnny Panic and we liked to shit on other people a lot lol so this was our song making fun of "typical punks". It's called TPS ("typical punk song") and I think we "released" it on a CD of our demos that we sold at our high school's battle of the bands one year (we didn't win the battle btw). We had another song making fun of straight-edge kids too {insert eyeroll-emoji}. I no longer have contact with the other two bandmates but damn do I wish I did because this shit was golden.
This track is from a jam session in my basement when I lived in South Philly. This was either sometime in 2011 or 2012. I was messing around on guitar with my partner-at-the-time's Vox amp and multi-effect pedal. One of the effects on the pedal allowed the expression pedal to pitch-shift and I was OBSESSED with the raging SQUEAL of it all. Sunny (my partner at the time) played drums during it so expressively, that we had to revisit this piece of sound. He later recorded some vocals over it, which is what you can hear on this track, and then years later turned it into a fleshed out song with his band.
But that day, I distinctly remember my housemate Sally coming home from work saying: "DUDE yall NEED to turn it down. I could hear that shit down by Pat's & Geno's!" (which was bout two blocks away lol) Many times in life I went searching for that guitar sound but I could never find it or recreate it again. I'm pretty sure it only lives in that one concrete-walled basement at the bottom of that one South Philly rowhome during that one specific moment in time, only at that one excessively loud & intolerable VOLUME, and never to be heard from again. Bless Sunny for having the foresight to record and save that jam.
This song was part of a set of demos released in 2012 on bandcamp by a garage-punk band I played drums in when I lived in Philly. I had literally just moved down there and didn't know anyone other than my housemates, had just picked up the drums and barely knew how to play, and answered the first craigslist post I saw that was seeking a garagepunk drummer. My bandmate who wrote the songs - this human was completely unhinged. But I do wonder maybe that's why I always loved his songs so much? I don't think he ever came to practice with a new song that I disliked. Have you ever played in a band where you literally thought every single song was a banger? Me neither (at least never before or after this band). I remember at the time trying to really zero-in on the laid-back vibe I experienced everywhere in Philly, especially among ppl born & raised there, which was in direct contrast with all the other environments I had inhabited up to that point. I wanted the drums to be slightly sloppy, slightly delayed, kinda off but always finding their way back. I mourn this lost project more than any other even though it absolutely had to die. Tho I am grateful to it for at least teaching me how to play drums and the sheer joy it provided me at some special times.
Right before the pandemic hit, I started a new band with some friends. It was beautiful because there were absolutely *no men* present and we would spend entire Saturdays just lounging around my basement chatting, joking, and playing music that had no pre-described rules or regulations. I think the spontaneity of it all is what made it feel so healing, so naturally collaborative, and so cathartic. We only ever played one show and it was only because we knew we were disbanding. This was now a year into the pandemic and people were moving away and stuff. I guess it was our little 'last hurrah' to honor what was probably most treasured about that project: the magical band practices we spent so much time in. It's impossible to pick just one song from our few recordings (one of my favs we never even recorded properly! I think it was called "Miss December"). Everyone should absolutely listen to everything off of "Dislocated", but I am direct-linking to one of our first songs: "Cat Call". I love this song a lot because, having grown up playing music being a girl, I've heard ALL the takes on that subject (and am annoyed at ALL of them, I assure you, mainly because I don't understand why the situation even warrants 'a take' at all anymore). I love how in this song, we make an obvious gimmick and run with it: putting that cat-call whistle on repeat and just playing the song over it until we drown it out completely. (These were all spur-of-the-moment decisions and this recording is just sliced out of a regular band practice recording). I'm sure girl bands have done these "gimmicks" since the beginning of time lol, but this one hits different to me. Because suddenly Steph Stroud comes in with those combative drums. Hearing them always makes me feel like an assault is def about to happen - but *not* the one you think! Then Amber's bass line creeps in - like footsteps that were already following you, but just came into your awareness. Then my guitar part comes in, which I truly tried to make sound as sleazy and slimey as all the men that Sherell so vividly describes in her vocals throughout the song. The authoritative voice takes the place of the men - “Why u got those BODY PARTS?? ON MY SIDEWALK??” She yells, exuding the entitlement a man who would cat call a woman on the street probly feels when he engages in invasive/aggressive behavior like that. Her vocal delivery alone turns all the tables. As far as bandmates go, I miss this chemistry more than any other still.
A year ago, I had a little song-writing retreat in my basement with a good friend. There were no expectations other than that we were probably gonna come up with a song. It was based off of a voice memo I found on my phone of this same friend playing their accordion so sweetly, a melody so absolutely touching that it would make me cry. They added lyrics and we added instrumentation. I vocalized their lyrics to the best of my ability and we took our demo to a friend for "proper recording". One of my favorite songs of all time, no lie.
Last December, my sweetie and I went into the basement music room one night to mess around and he started playing this very simple and effective bass line which caused me to think about the longevity of fallible structures around us. So I later wrote/recorded this demo based off his bass line. I eventually hit a wall when it came to coming up with a chorus, so I asked my sweetie for input since he was the source of the inspiration. He said very randomly, off the top of his head: "what if someone was just repeating the line: 'who's driving?' " I loved the idea so much that I recorded that for the chorus, which lead to a whole tangential, borderline-spoken word-type chorus that still sounds like *such* an "anti-chorus" to me if anything. None of this would exist without my blessed sweetie and their boundless creativity. The kind that is so unassuming it’s legitimately SEXY to me lol. Like when Jim Carroll describes playing a game of basketball with the graceful, effortless movement of a cheetah in The Basketball Diaries.
Do you ever hear a question that is *totally valid* but strikes you as ABSOLUTELY WILD ? (that meme about someone asking "do you ski?" comes to mind lmao, which is def on par in STRANGENESS to me but not what im talking about right now)
When people ask me "how do you write a song?"
idk how you're supposed to answer that because I have no idea what other people do, all i know is what i do
and what i do is just kinda open my heart to all possibilities (a practice similar to when i walk into a giant thrift store; maybe the purpose here is not that YOU find a thing you're looking for; it's more like you being OPEN to ANYTHING else finding YOU), listening/perceiving carefully to anything seen/heard/felt that is based in organic authenticity, and NOT PASSING JUDGMENT, only expressing pure acceptance and maybe even devotion to the thing that hath found you.
But most importantly, you should then try to jot it down/voice memo record/document *as fast as possible* because for me, it works similar to dreams. As soon as u even try to remember them in detail - they're GONE.
It’s 8:06pm on November 11, 2024. I’m writing this out on my phone in bed, which is where I’ve spent most of the past week due to my body being a garbage bag (again.. and again and again)
I started pondering this meme I saw recently which really hit a nail for me:
After election results were announced earlier last week - I had several weird interactions with ppl in my surroundings. But to be honest- these weird interactions were an extension of the past year’s weird interactions with everyone, and by another extension - the whole pandemic. One client at work said: “wow did u hear? So shocking” to which I could only say “you didn’t see this coming at least for the past year??” She said no and it made me so sad I felt it in my bones. One person even messaged a loved one, someone who has always been outspoken in their criticisms of american government/politics, accusing them of putting black & brown folks and queer & trans folks on the chopping block for criticizing Harris as a candidate. Quick reminder that of course trump, but also neither Biden nor Harris have ever cared for these lives. But I guess some people are too distracted by colors such as red or blue to investigate who they are truly voting for because for them, politics seems to happen once every four years (???)
I’ve seen a lot of persecution of the left- blaming them for another trump term. Maybe if the cognitive dissonance here wasn’t so tragic, I would laugh at the absurdity of their comments. But it’s not funny. And it wasn’t the past year either. Nor since the pandemic started. Nor since the birth of this ugly “country”. Why would you blame the very ppl who were pointing out the problems you actively chose to ignore? I am now wondering how I would explain all this to one of these people in terms they could understand without myself sounding accusatory or ignorant (the way they sound to me). Also, this point is not in any way glorifying or making a monolith of leftists - I critique us too. I have problems with many (mainly wondering why most of them don’t believe in masking anymore ???)
You should always criticize the government under which you live. It’s (supposedly) your right, but more importantly your DUTY. How else do you call out human rights violations? While I’m at it- u should always Question Everything. This will always do you good. It’s a good muscle to exercise. Anytime there is a hierarchy involved - I don’t care where you are in the hierarchy, but ESPECIALLY if you’re at the bottom of it - you should critique and criticize what you see, hear, feel and most importantly- what you experience in your daily life.
Last fall, I remember a couple old friends came over for dinner. We discussed the genocide in Palestine and it quickly erupted into a screaming match. One of the friends claimed that fighting back against your oppressors in any militant manner is wrong. That war and guns and death are always wrong. My loved one retorted with- if everyone YOU loved was being massacred and everything YOU ever knew was being destroyed- would you not eventually pick up a gun? Someone who has never had their life threatened by an authority will likely see that as extreme - because it doesn’t relate to their experience of life. But that doesnt mean that all the ppl who do experience this (on a daily basis) aren’t valid and don’t deserve a human life just as much as you do. You’re just occupying a different space in the hierarchy.
I’m thinking of all the ppl in america who felt they didn’t need to know what was going on in other parts of the world (even at the hands of their own government) because it “wasn’t their problem” and “none of their business”. For context- I also hate politics. Always have. I much rather go play music with my friends & watch a dumb VHS movie than debate the lives and morals of a bunch of rich candidates that I will never know personally and who absolutely have proven to me that they could not care less if I live or die. Like most other ppl- I have better ideas of what I want to do with my time here. The reason everyone needs to be political, however, is because it affects all of us. In a conversation with my dad recently, he asked me “when did you get interested in politics?” I couldn’t help laughing, because the word “interested” implies that I had some kind of choice. I told him I was forced to, against my will, when I became disabled in america. Politics is everyday- but ppl of privilege usually don’t find that out until it’s too late. They don’t mind tho- they can likely still purchase their own safety when shit hits the fan…
Which leads me to ponder the aggressive individualism in this country. Some lives are obviously valued more than others here. I hear liberal, privileged friends say : “go vote for the lesser of two evils”. But isn’t everything relative to your experiences? So my question is: Would YOU go vote for someone who was actively trying to kill you and your loved ones? Probly not! Basic survival skills tell us not to. That’s y I would never vote for trump. But it’s also why I could never vote for a dem again either. My point is- the other rich person won because anyone with a conscience literally didn’t have a candidate to vote for. There was no opposing candidate, as far as american political strategy dictates. But this is not new or a unique moment in time. And now everyone wants to point fingers. Why are we never pointing them at the two evils tho? Evil is evil no matter how u cut it. Look at what they wrought, continue to do, and will execute in the future. Just because your life wasn’t on the chopping block that day doesn’t mean you shouldn’t care about those people who were, and that your ass isn’t next for the block. You are them and they are you. And nobody’s life is worth more than another’s. This country clearly has never cared about foreign bodies unless they were white. Same is true for how they treat domestic bodies. Is it really shocking that young ppl in this country, raised on the pandemic and the 2020 uprisings, had no faith in a democratic candidate that explicitly stated they support israhell and preferred to continue this empire’s reign of terror domestically and abroad? We all watched how the dems quelled the George Floyd protests by further militarizing the police. After all that, are you really gonna tell those young ppl to go vote for a cop who is intent on building “the most lethal fighting force in the world”? Why is it shocking that a white supremacist won another term in a country founded upon genocide and racism that continues to operate under genocide and racism?
Ignorance kills just as much as apathy & politeness. You could either point your divisive finger, searching for a scapegoat (I’m sure both trump & harris would LOVE that, plus all the other oligarchs they dine with) or u could start having those difficult, uncomfortable but necessary conversations with the humans around you & build unity instead. I know that we are all taught not to have those conversations- but do you ever question why that is? And who benefits from this silence?
It is Saturday, November 9, 2024. 6:22 PM. Its pretty warm out for a New England November, so I am sitting in the backyard with some candles and its already been dark outside for an hour. Been spending more time writing lately (typing as opposed to my preferred hand written format), because it’s more easily accessible than other therapeutic forms right now.
Been working on a piece of writing for a while about space, or, all the spaces we’ve inhabited throughout our lives and what gave us meaning from these spaces. I couldn't finish it (or maybe this post is what it turned into, idk), because I ended up with too many questions instead.
Is the meaning of spaces derived from the people who we inhabited them with? Was it the decor/colors/layout/structure? Was it the smell? Usually when I time travel to various spaces I’ve inhabited, I remember the vibe more than anything- and I think for me the things that constitute a vibe are a combination of these sensory input: the sounds of daily living (what that door sounded like, what were the outdoor noises that were always present), the quality of light at various times of day/seasons, the colors around me. But I wonder what constitutes this vibe for other people since our internal experiences are all so different. For example, I've heard other people talk a lot about smells of spaces past having a profound effect on them when revisited or encountered later in life.
I feel like most ppl don’t really choose where they end up - it just happens as a matter of circumstance. But some ppl do hav a choice to an extent, or maybe at various times in life. So what are the differences/similarities between these two scenarios? And how does that impact how we interact with our current spaces?
When someone doesn’t have a space to call their own (especially against their own wishes), and/or: never did, how does this impact them and their internal world? Or what about people who are violently and forcibly removed from their spaces? The ppl of Palestine come to mind immediately. Also ppl in countries of empire like here where ppl lose their homes because of WaRz of cAPitAL™ R-US ongoing. Or this morning I saw a post on the working class history ig about the ppl of the Chagos Archipelago, who were all removed from their homes to make way for a US military base to occupy that land instead. What does that do to a person's internal world? Furthermore, how do these internal worlds then get reflected into the collective experience of their communities, and then our world at large?
I started pondering spaces when I found this footage in a box of my old videotapes. This video is from a trip my family and I took to Poland back in 2004. I was 17 years old and we had been living in the US together as a family since 1992. I had visited as a child, but this was my first trip back during my teen years. We were clearing out our apartment in Warsaw because it was being sold. I had decided that I would be a filmmaker, so I was obsessed with filming everything ever on my precious miniDV camcorder. But I also knew I would never see this space again, and being weird about spaces I’ve inhabited- I had to record everything and save every little treasure I could possibly fit in my suitcase. Please excuse baby-Alex's poor analysis of economics towards the end lol, I was v young!
This apartment was about 180 square feet - but it contained so many lives within its walls. When I was born, there were 9 of us living there: me and my sister, our mom and dad, my mom's brother and his wife plus their kid (my older cousin), and two of my grandparents. It was a common practice to put your bed away every morning to make space for daily living. Lots of people in cities lived in apartments and situations like this so I did not think it was strange until I moved to New Jersey. The town I grew up in there had lots of mansions (not an exaggeration) and this style of American excess was very much normalized. It felt very weird going over your friend's house and seeing how starkly different your spaces were. Their moms were home to pick them up from school. They had their own rooms and even one just for the activity of watching movies. There were cookie jars, staircases, and entire basements to do whatever you and your co-inhabitants wanted to do. I was too young to verbalize what I felt, but I think this was the first time I became aware of the concept of class? As a child, I was wildly embarrassed about having friends over or sharing details about my home life. Luckily I discovered punk at some point between 6-8th grade and made the necessary adaptation to stop giving a fuck lol. Bless. I am still grateful for all the stress this has spared my future self, and is why I continue to say *long live rocknroll*.
I spent my childhood being very confused by my external surroundings maybe because nobody explained to my child self the How&Why of what we were all experiencing. For example, I used to think there was something inherently wrong with my family which must have been why we didn’t have mansions (lmao ???). Instead, I often retreated to my internal world for comfort and support and distraction. I’m actually thankful for this because I still do this as an adult. I think it’s called having a vivid imagination and it’s one of my favorite parts about human consciousness. It comes in handy a lot as my physical body ages and becomes more difficult to inhabit as a space itself.
Living in a country where the acquisition of wealth, power and status, even at the cost of other human lives, was considered normal and even encouraged as a “survival strategy” is still weird and definitely one of many reasons america is so hopelessly fckd & shameful.
I'm curious to hear what other ppl's first conceptions of space were and their reflections on how that impacts their relationship with spaces now. I imagine it's wildly different for everyone because everyone adapts to their situations in various ways. In my immediate family alone, I noticed that some ppl adapted by adopting a nomadic way of living while others adapted to being hopeless homebodies (me, lol). Anyways, I need to have a yard sale soon, because current adaptation requirements are demanding that I interact with less stuff. (I am nervous because I hope it doesn't require any bad decor.)
