1000 words

I didn't have a camera

If i had a camera it would have told you about the view of the sunset through a battered mesh fence from the Girard el stop. Above the avenue, looking down at cabs, and SUVs trying to dodge pot holes and new construction. The steeple of St John Newman piercing the fading blue sky, and clouds terrorizing the escaping sun. It might tell you about the different colors and perspective of my left and right eye;

switch, switch.
switch, switch.
camera a, camera b.
camera a, camera b.

It would have taken a blurred shot filled with commotion as the city flashed past like a flip book, our train racing through 80 blocks of Philadelphia's wealth and poverty. Above ground, underground, above ground. I watched the colors and shapes change, station to station, mirrored by the reflection of my brother. A reflection that has changed over the history of our taking sub rides together. He used to be shorter. I used to wear less makeup.

A camera would tell you about our stint in the 69th street terminal, getting lost in the maze of stairwells and revolving doors, then finally making it across Market Street, passing one to many people just looking for a little help. A quarter here, some food there, nothing too much, if it's not too much of a bother. Knowing full well that I was going to spend any available cash on overpriced merchandise and whiskey. Head down, walking just a little faster to avoid the pang of guilt for saying sorry buddy, can't help you.

We waited in line to find out that 2 beers and 2 shots of jameson is running at $35 collectively. A lens may have captured the belly laugh to follow. Or maybe not. I learned pretty quickly that a shot in a crowd turns into a half shot at the back of the room. Round two brought the wisdom to drink at a counter. $40 more got us matching tshirts. "can we geek out and wear them now?" "no....but we can later when we're shooting pool and singing obnoxiously at the bar." I love a good compromise.

The birds eye view with a wide angle shot of the room could have shown the rest of the hustle around us dissipate into slow motion, then softly disappear when i finally got the chance to talk things over with a guy who's seen it all; permed bangs in the second grade, running away from home with peanut butter crackers, failing chemistry, repeating mistakes; and still doesn't mind spending his nights going to see a show with me. Catching up on something on his mind, something on my mind. Remembering how funny he can be when he isn't wrapped up in being an asshole, just 'cause.

More beers, more music, more drums and we grab seats. Plush and red. Three trips to the bathroom later through crowds of women, or should I say girls, far too young to appreciate their seats, and the lights finally dim. If i had a high quality camera, and a solid tripod, it would have shown you the spotlight on the guts of the guitar, slowly panning out to reveal fingers attached to a hand, attached to a man with a voice I could recognize without ever meeting, and a stage of filled with musicians. Even slower yet, the infusion of red light emerging from the darkness, and finally the glow reaching our faces, bouncing from neighbor to neighbor.

If i had a camera it may have captured the panning light from head to toe, of the warmth that blue light creates on my eyelids, or the vibration that the bass line sends through my hip bones. It may have told about the moment when we were all finally communicating on the same page through pitch and tone. About the tingle in my nose that i feel every time I'm about to cry, and the wave of cool blood that runs down my face when I hear my favorite song.

It could have shown the small moment that my brother danced with me, or better yet, the hours that he let me stand in the crowd and dance alone. even when i was the only one standing, the only one dancing, and the only one singing along. All without a single demand for me to sit down. all without an eye roll. because he knew it's what i needed.

If i had a camera i would have been lazy, and would have returned with 5 pictures of my brother and i, and maybe a dark stage. I would have missed the reflection, the connection, the tingle in my nose. I would have let another concert pass without writing down how i really felt. How music finds a way to communicate when i can't, how cords have always felt right when the world is feeling oh so wrong. How music is the one of the few things that can make a rainy day bearable, a sunny day brighter, a shitty day tolerable, and bring a devastating day to an end.

Back on the subway, no words, no crazy drunken photo's. Just sound. Wheels on the tracks and a car filled with people humming, "i need you so much closer." And it's true, I do.

shows, shows, and more shows

Sitting around the other night with not much to do, I flipped through the area shows: JBs, Barbary, KungFu Necktie, the Fire, M Room...aha! the M Room, how you saved my Thursday night.

I was lucky enough to catch the opening band, and was floored by how good these guys are. Shipped in from Lousiana, this trio had amazing stage energy. After the show I met up with them, got to chatting, and managed to score two free cds! Their album really doesn't do them justice. I left the concert all glowy and bubbly, describing "if the Boss and Fall Out Boy birthed a child down south I think it would sound alot like these guys." People, I give you the Sons of William...

Message - Sons of William

Savannah - Sons of William

Lucifer Hands - Sons of William


Follow by Val Emmich, also a sure bet for musical entertainment....do listen, my fav being hurt more later, as he described as a song "for everyone that leaves a relationship while it's working, so you don't have to stick around for the bitter end." He also played a great song for those that have wandered far and wide "Back to Eastern Standard Time" that has only been played on this tour. Hopefully someday soon I can share.



more showing coming- ra ra riot/death cab for cute, gildon works & maria taylor. very.very. happy :)