auralmemories: daniel

I was reading my horoscope for the week today in the back of the Indy, and I had to laugh...

“If we want the rewards of being loved," says cartoonist Tim Kreider, "we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known." How are you doing with this trade-off, Cancerian? Being a Crab myself, I know we are sometimes inclined to hide who we really are. We have mixed feelings about becoming vulnerable and available enough to be fully known by others. We might even choose to live without the love we crave so as to prop up the illusion of strength that comes from being mysterious, from concealing our depths. The coming weeks will be a good time for you to revisit this conundrum.”

Vulnerability... The scariest and most commonly felt emotion I know. I have it in me, that desire to be known, to be understood, to tell my story, to leave my mark in the world... Sometimes I let it leak out when drunk, to a friend or two here and there, in these decreasingly sporadic blog posts; I want to open up. I really do. But I am afraid... What if you don't like who you see? I like her so much... I have earned the right to love myself as much as I do. After three decades of relying so heavily on the rest of the human population to validate me, I faced my own death and decided I was worth saving. I have a vested interested in myself... I love me. Do you deserve to love me and know me, as I do (the inner me, obviously)? The other side of this conundrum is... Once I do let someone in, once that leaden, guarded door to my heart opens (the crab shell is cracked)– so much may come rushing out. So many stories, facts, figures, fears, theories, loves, hates, dreams... They've been inside for so long. I've tried to purge them periodically via this blog, and as some of you know, I keep a personal and unpublished journal, as I have done since I was 12. (Also I'm still working on my damned memoirs...) We all know I'm a big fan of catharsis. But what happens when that Lost Arc of my soul is finally opened to the right person? Whose face will it melt? Or will this person have enough sense to hold on tight, shut their eyes and ride it out?

Enter: Daniel.

We met almost exactly three years prior at the Future Islands doublefeature at Kings and stayed in touch via facebook and such... I was interested in him, for sure, at the time, but he was in relationship... then I was. Then I wasn't. But then he was again. But apparently by this time, that couldn't stop us. (sorry) Random, seemingly innocent “what are you up to?” messages saw us at yet another show together (that awesome Talking Heads cover band from Tennessee, Same As It Ever Was, at the Southland Ballroom). And from that night; we have scarcely been apart. More than 24 hours away from him and I'm like a cat on a hot tin roof... We go to shows. We laugh. We get drunk. We give each other 100 smarmy nicknames twenty times a day that we instantly forget. We have so many in-jokes by now that it's almost like a secret language that only we speak. He calls me on my shit and makes me question my stubborn defenses. He is erasing all the regrets and poor decisions that have haunted me from my past. He is compassionate, insatiably creative, brilliant, hilarious and every time I look at his dumb face he's even more attractive to me than the moment before. The simplest things he does I find infinitely charming; from his gait, the way he looks at me when he knows I've said something completely inane or pretentious, to the timbre of his voice. He teaches me something new everyday and he is patient with me. I have opened up to him more than approximately 99% of the people I have ever met in my life, (including therapists,) and he's still around. Every day is a new adventure. He is my best friend. I adore him.

It's terrifying.

We have, as yet, survived two road trips intact. You know how that can test a relationship and all... first was a weekend at the beach; no problem. The next was an overnight trip to Washington, DC, as I had bought tickets to the opening night of the US leg of the tour supporting their newest album, The Takeoff and Landing of Everything at the 9:30 Club. We survived; in fact, I'd almost say We Thrived... I feel closer to him now than ever.

I cannot tell you how my love affair with the band Elbow began. I had their first 2001 album, Asleep in the Back, as it was a promo I dug on and kept from my days at the Record Exchange. They had a couple more releases that, at the time as I was probably up U2 or Morrissey's asses, that didn't register with me for whatever reason. Flash forward to my time at my last job, Progress Energy. As is common knowledge, I am a creature of habit. I find a spot and a routine and I pretty much stick with that until a building is torn down or a job is lost, essentially. I would, every day, for almost nine years, take my lunch at exactly the same time, plug in my earbuds, walk down to a coffee shop, space out with a novel or most likely, a puzzle, and listen to some tunes.

I have, over the years, gone through many outlets of music discovery; trolling British magazines in the days before the internet, previewing every promo and random ass CD that came into the store, word of mouth, Napster, Audiogalaxy, bit torrents, live shows, mix tapes, and more recently and frequently in the past five or more years, is the advent of infinite streaming music options, Pandora and now Spotify. Before I finally caved into the Pandora (and quickly aligned myself with and became paying member of Spotify,) I spent the majority of my headphone time, when not glued to my own iPod, listening to an online radio station based out of California called RadioParadise.

RadioParadise was (and still is) the perfect blend of oh, I dunno, world, 90s alternative, adult contemporary, and eclectic music. If the song currently playing wasn't already a cherished favorite, it was most likely a soon to be. This is how my love affair with Elbow was rekindled. The 2005 album, Leaders of the Free World, with its opening track “Station Approach” was like a shock to the system. Unique, dramatic, poetic, desperate, longing, stunning... I heard this tune on RadioParadise and did the whole “Oh hold up, who is this again??” and then it was on! backtracked to their other albums and stayed current with new releases.

I saw them for the very first time in August 2009, when they opened for Coldplay. It was in support of the then most recent release, The Seldom Seen Kid. I bought my Rubik's cube shirt from the merch table and promptly changed into it (thereby seeing my one and only foray into being “that guy” at the show). The boys played a 45 minute set with the majority of the tunes coming from the new album and a couple more hits, such as my coveted Station Approach. I was sat on the lawn and the grand total of folks up and rocking out for this show, in my general vicinity was a staggering 2. I took a couple crap, short vids on my cell and was on a total high for weeks because of it. After the show, my friend Alisyn and I (my resident Coldplay fan companion [which, much to the chagrin of my boyfriend] became one of my favorite bands after their stunning stage show) were walking along the perimeter of the lawn when I was stopped by another fan, wearing an Elbow shirt. He had asked if I had seen them on any other shows during this tour, to which I replied no. He told me he had seen them the day or so before at the 9:30 Club in DC, it was the best live show he'd ever seen, and that they played the sacred hymn “Newborn.” It was at that moment, so long ago, that I decided next time they toured and came anywhere close to me, within driving distance, nothing could keep me away. It only took 5 years and sweet Mary, Mother of God, it was worth the wait.

I bought tickets for the 9:30 Club for the May 11, 2014 gig as soon as they went on sale. I then promptly hit up Priceline and secured a hotel room in DC. I was prepared and ready to attend this show solo; I wasn't even concerned about sharing this experience with anyone; much like certain intensely personal musical connections I have with certain artists, I knew I would be in my own little world during the show anyway, and that I would make friends with the folks down front. (Spoiler alert, this is exactly what happened).

As luck would have it (or fate, or time & circumstance, or the will of God, or whatever,) would have it, I started dating Daniel a few weeks before the show, so I thought, hey, why not? The show sold out, so I wasn't able to find him a ticket (he wasn't too heart-broken; he is tolerant of my Elbow listening compulsion, at best). He waited in line with me outside the club, as I was coming out of my skin with excitement, and kissed me goodbye at the door and then he toddled off to find his own adventures (we met up after).

HE'S IN THERE

Walking into the room, I had no idea what to expect; a room somewhere between the size of the Ritz (not so high), and the new Cat's Cradle (not so deep). But the stage, the big blue angel, staring down at me. I walked into the center of the room and promptly burst into subtle tears; I was really, finally, here. This was happening. And the crowd, which I was worried would swallow me whole as the show was sold out and I was so shockingly far back in the line, was mingling and very chilled out. I was able to, quite pretty damned causally, stroll right up front and parked myself center stage, right down front. I made friends with a really cute couple from Baltimore and then another Superfan who had flown in from Detroit for the show. These were my people, I was in the right place.

I sipped a few beers while the opening act, John Grant, did a semi-acoustic set. He was excellent, charming, and laugh-out-loud witty. I mentally ear-marked a few songs to share with Daniel later, of which I knew he would appreciate (and he did!) And then, it happened. Elbow was on the stage and Guy Garvey was quite literally 8 feet in front of me. (As you may assume, copious tears fell! But I got myself together, for the time being, but rest assured, I got plenty weepy throughout the night...)

the set list (which, unfortunately I was unable to procure) followed as such:

Charge

The Bones of You**

Fly Boy Blue / Lunette

Real Life (Angel)

The Night Will Always Win**

New York Morning

The Loneliness of a Tower Crane Driver

Great Expectations**

Scattered Black and Whites**

Mirrorball

The Birds

Grounds for Divorce

My Sad Captains**

Encore:

Lippy Kids

One Day Like This**

** Denotes I cried like a lil bitch. (I ask you to refer to the opening statement of this post; I am water sign, I cry easy.)

These are the tunes of which I'd like to elaborate:

The Bones of You – This is a personally intensely memory-driven experience for me. I have lived through this song. This is one of the first songs that formed the alliance between myself and the band. Pure poetry, so much pain. And I honestly had no idea how amazing this song was going to sound live, despite watching infinite live videos of it online. Until that amazing little woodblock up-beat was right in my face, could I appreciate it fully. This, being the first song that I had such a connection with that the band played, will stick with me for a long time.

Scattered Black and Whites – A song the Superfan Conglomerate down front all agreed will most likely be played, as the concert was held on (US) Mother's Day. This song was enhanced by the exchange between Guy and a very excitedly outspoken audience member named Gareth who shouted out his request for it. After the song played, which of its own accord is one of the most delicately bittersweet songs ever written, Guy stepped forward and reached forward and shook Gareth's hand in the audience. I keep hoping someone got a video or photo of this, but so far, no hits.

My Sad Captains – Truly and emphatically my favorite song on the newest album. From my first listen, I knew this tune was a chronicle and justification for the past year or so of my life; the brokenhearted runaway, the hopeful dreamer, the drunken mess, the cautious optimist – she is epitomized in these lines. I dared not hope this song would be played, and from the first notes, I found myself with my arms in the air, singing along at the top of my lungs with tears streaming down my face. Then (ironically) miracle of miracles, I found myself reaching forward towards Mr. Garvey hisself; not in the slightest hope of touching him, but more of a gesture of “You, sir, are The Shit!” ...He caught my eye. He stepped forward over the monitor on the stage in front of him, leaned forward over the guard rail and he shook my hand, like a true gentleman. I held his gaze and mouthed the words “thank you”. He bowed to me, graciously. We stepped back. I grabbed the shoulder of the person next to me and asked those around me “Did.... did that just really happen?” My bewilderment was greeted and confirmed with back slaps and whoops of joy for me. I briefly sank to my knees as the cartilage within them seemed to suddenly evaporate. Helpful hands righted me, and we all screamed ourselves raw until the band returned for their encore.

This was truly the greatest show moment of my entire life. And that's triumphing over infinite stage crashes, thrice seeing U2 live, standing 10 feet from Morrissey as he exited his tour bus, anything and everything I've ever written about in this blog; that moment, that beautiful connection I had with one of the most talented human beings on the planet, my postmodern Oscar Wilde, my hero, Mr. Guy Garvey – This was my favorite live show moment I have had in all of my 36 years; possibly one of the best moments of my entire life. One of those moments I will see flash before my eyes when the end comes. Thinking about it now, and ever since then, my eyes prickle with tears. Who knew someone like me could be blessed with such a simple, beautiful gift? I am humbled.

Here are a couple videos of the show that other folk were able to capture. In the first, you can see me about a minute in for the remainder of the song.

The next day, Daniel and I walked. And walked and walked and walked. And had an amazing day exploring the parts of The Capital that I had, despite numerous other trips, had yet to experience. Despite hitting rush hour traffic on our way out of town and an otherwise 4.5 hr trip back to Raleigh taking almost 7, I would not hesitate to say this was probably the best road trip of my life. Be it the city itself, the show, the memories, the man, or my hardened shell cracking just a little wider to let in some joy, I will cherish these two days in Washington, DC for the rest of my life.

I LoveAbe!

Chii Half-Smokes at Ben's Chili Bowl!

pride.

daniel is the best!

Most people have known what they what to be when they grow up for a very long time. Whether or not you actually made this dream a reality is up to each of us to decide; we may have gotten to our goal and became a veterinarian or rock star; some of us are still struggling to make that dream come true. Some folks just dream forever and never try; my dream of what I wanted to be when I grew up is something I've tinkered with my entire life. As longtime readers of my blog can affirm; I've always wanted to be a writer. I have never written anything that I have been paid for, save the poetry contest I won my sophomore year in high school where I wrote a long narrative style poem in the style of Oscar Wilde's Ballad of Reading Gaol, of which I had I recently discovered and devoured, about an Irish immigrant – a woman who left her lover and was a stowaway on a liner bound for America... I got $25. Other than that; it's all journals, notebooks, blogs and unsent (and some sent, yet copies kept) love letters. I finished my first novel when I was in 8th grade... total crap, I promise you. I wrote it on my first word processor, a Brother WP-3400. It's premise was what you would expect from someone like me at that age; a kid in love with someone who didn't know I exist and suddenly we meet through some outrageous twist of fate and fall in love – BUT IT WAS A DREAM THE WHOLE TIME!

….jaysus. I, honest to god, begged my dad to make me 8 copies of that shitstack and I literally sent it out to publishers, whose addresses I found by begging my mom a ride to the local library and actually using reference books to “how to publish a book.”

...when I think about how hard you had to hustle pre-internet to get anything done, I am overwhelmed with how unlikely this dream all seems. You kids got it too easy these days, man!

So I keep on blogging... after the “teenage dream” novel, I set out on my next novel that I started my freshman year of high school; an ambitious effort! I actually did heavy research for this one; spent every weekend for months in the library getting my facts straight – it was set in Northern Ireland during the heavy bombing campaigns by the IRA in the 1980s... I'd just discovered U2, you see, and my social consciousness curtain was ripped wide open. A little more than ¾ into that novel I signed myself up and saved allowance to pay for a creative writing workshop held not far from my high school... I was the youngest in the class by a good 5 years... it was helpful and an excellent resource but a total mindfuck... sometimes someone teaches or tells you something that opens your mind's eye so wide you can never shut it again; the woman who lead the workshop read an excerpt from my novel in process and she said it was more or less good, I cant remember any kind of praise because what she said next changed my writing abilities forever... “It's good but not believable, you can only write what you know and the reader can always tell”... so basically, if I wanted to write about a story set in Belfast, Northern Ireland, how could I expect success if I've never been there? This information settled like a ton of bricks in my understanding of the universe and my abilities to process it... If I wanted to write about true love, how could I if I had never experienced it? If I wanted to write about different cultures and continents, how could I without traveling the world? If I wanted to tell my story, how could I until I felt and understood myself completely?

What transpired after that conversation was a relentless, exhaustive, yet still ongoing quest to see, feel, hear, experience, taste, love and live EVERYTHING so I could write about it. I started making travel plans that very afternoon. This little bit of information may help any of those still trying to decipher my intensity, self-absorption, and main directive in life. I can't settle down, I can't marry, I can't buy a home or stay in one place too long... not until I am satisfied that I can finally “write what I know.”

I have had epiphanies. I have had moments of such divine clarity that I have been rendered speechless for days. I have had dreadful realizations about human existence that sent me into blackout drunks spanning over weeks at a time. I have walked away from opportunities and people that were “too easy” because without plot advancement, there was no narrative. I have inadvertently placed myself in treacherous situations in a subconscious effort for a good story. I have taken chances most people interested in retaining their health, sanity, or assets would never consider. All of this in the name of my dream.

Earlier last year I was laid off from a job of 9 years that I didn't know I loved until it was gone; much like much everything in my life I can only truly love in hindsight... after the world opened all it's doors and windows wide to me, I became overwhelmed... Another job? School? Move away? Travel? ...Travel! So after a month or two of floundering and tossing ideas into the universe I finally took the one big chance I never dared myself to take; give away almost all my possessions and run away.

I can't tell you for sure the moment I knew I wanted to come home; it honestly depends on the moment you ask me... homesickness? My ex? Exhaustion? My health? But in true-me fashion, the decision to return was made just as suddenly as the one to leave. And now I have found myself floundering once again, unable to commit to one single idea or situation; save this one... In the first few nights I was all alone in that jungle I faced my own kind of magic-mirror gate and I sat down and I started to write. All of those years of saving up stories and living these tragedies and victories began to spill out of me and it hasn't stopped since.

I offer this to you now, my sparse and loyal blogfolk, as a brief-as-i-can-get explanation of the lack of updates that you have seen since I've been back; I am writing. For me. Not blogs, not journal, not love letters I'll never send, not letters I'll send and BCC myself on to use as reference for the future.... none of that. I am finally telling my story. I have you, those who encouraged, inspired, contributed and supported me in these past few years to thank for that.

In the mean time, I will try my best to write and update as inspiration strikes but you may also feel free to follow me on twitter, as I use the blog's account to live tweet as many shows as I attend, which is honestly as many as it's ever been. There will be many more. The story isn't over yet, but for the first time in my life the term “open ended” doesn't scare the shit out of me.

Here are some things that have happened since my last post (in no particular order,) in case you haven't been peeping my twitter: