Dear Barn Cat

Aka- Aunt Pat,

Being the superstitious bird I am, I took down my Vegas vacation trip, photos. I didn't know sight seeing was "this BIG secret" so wanting to make a safe flight home, I quickly removed my photo shoot. By doing so the Vegas "Gods" rewarded me, with being seated, smack dab in the middle of two (TWIN) Australian soccer players. I was a little anxious with a middle seat (who me, anxiety on a plane?) Until this fine lad sat down next to the window, and I said "I was starting to think, I'd have this entire aisle all to myself, to which he replied (Thick) Australian accent "Oh my team mate, is on his way" Enter the even tanner, bluer eyes, of the two, I said "team mate, I think I just spotted your doppelgänger! Get your camera phone"- they laughed. And I enjoyed my best plane ride yet. Between two twin hunks! Thanks for warning about the Vegas rules, maybe you're next flight will be of that caliber.

(Don't tell...)

So long, lonesome

I leave for Vegas tomorrow afternoon, and I AM ready to get this show on the road. The only thing is, I am flying.  The cards are always stacked against me when I take flight. I'm afraid of heights, closed spaces, and not having control. So all of the things I have going against myself when I fly, is D all of the above. I guess not having control should be okay in this scenario (Though I personally would feel better if my life were in my own hands, I might have trouble landing the plane.)

However, what does amuse me, is the music that soothes my nerves when I fly. I use my laptop en route en air'go, so the name of the band is written clear across my computer screen. One of my top five bands, Explosions in the Sky, a post-rock band with distinct chiming guitars, is my go-to flying partner. I put my ear phones in, and let their lyric free music coast me. Looking like a psycho path with the name "Explosions in the Sky" written across my computer screen, probably doesn't soothe the poor soul sitting next to me on the flight.

Ah well, see ya in Vegas!

Grey Gardens

"But you see in dealing with me, the relatives didn't know that they were dealing with a staunch character and I tell you if there's anything worse than dealing with a staunch woman... S-T-A-U-N-C-H. There's nothing worse, I'm telling you. They don't weaken, no matter what."- Little Eddie


A year ago today, I decided to drive my life across country to Alabama. That lasted a whole two months, but Meadow sure had a great trip. 

St. Christopher

Nostalgia: a heartbroken time machine to a place where we know we are loved. - Don Draper

Cold Cold Ground

We've had two huge snow storms this week, which is why I've decided to spend my weekend sleeping. So if you're looking for an exciting tale of red walls or cats blow drying their hair, you'll have to hit the backspace button. But I will leave you with a picture of when this city was much warmer, and the streets were bustling with people.

Blaze of Glory

Without my consent I was given a five-day break for the Thanksgiving holiday.  Everyone else at work was ecstatic, I on the other hand felt bullied into taking a holiday break. Wishing I could decline this vacation time and carry on with my usual daily activities, I joined the masses and high-fived a co-worker when our boss announced in the morning meeting that we would be out at noon that Wednesday before X-Giving (that's what I'm calling Thanksgiving these days).

The Wednesday before X-Giving I was home by 12:20...  what to do, what to do? What better time than now to paint my apartment! I grabbed my best friend Candice to head to the Ace Hardware with me (She used to work at a hardware store in Maine, and prides herself on navigating around those overwhelming confusing aisles)

I decided awhile back that I wanted a yellow kitchen, as we pulled out the color swatches, my eyes landed on "Firefly" yellow.  We gave the hardware guy my swatch and off he went to get my paint.  As the man in the hardware vest was in the back mixin' up the medicine' I was on the pavement thinkin' bout the government. I pulled out a vibrant red swatch and confessed "I've always wanted one single bright red wall in a house" with that information Candice admitted "ME TOO" as she began riffling through the rest of the color swatches.

Blaze of Glory was the name of the red Candice whipped out of the sea of colors. The name alone sold me, as I shouted "I'm gonna do it!" The man in the vest was back with a can of yellow paint, and a look on his face that knew his work in aisle 12 wasn't quite finished.  We sent him back (wherever it was he was mixing all this paint up) to work.

After the Ace Hardware adventure I drove Candice home and we talked about how liberating it will be to paint one single wall bright red. Coming to the conclusion there must be some psychological factor behind "the red wall theory" she wanted a full report on how it felt to finally paint that wall bright red.

Well I'm here to report it was an experience. I saved the best for last and after I was finished with the yellow kitchen I prepared the red wall with some Ani Difranco on the stereo speakers and broke out the designated paint roller. As the beige wall turned a bright red my speakers decided it wasn't Ani they needed after-all, it was Beth Orton, I obliged switching playlists.  Red symbolizing action, confidence, courage, and vitality, I began to paint one single wall with that emotionally intense color. After the first coat, I stood back and admired my new courageous wall, as my muscles began to ache with the thought of applying the second coat.  Maybe I should have saved the best for first?  Matter overtook mind, and after painting an entire kitchen, my muscles didn't care "how liberating" this experience was intended to be.  Pushing forward I finished the wall. Unable to bask in the vitality of my new living area, I hit the hay and this action seeking gal was out.... in a blaze of glory

And it was all yellow

                      Screen girl appears not to be phased by all this hype

I wonder if any of my neighbor's living rooms contain this much confidence?

Time will only tell

Flo & Her Machine.

I'm making all sorts of friends in my new apartment building.

This unique spot is an old mansion built in 1920's, broke into six different units. Having the mantra: You can't appreciate the sweet without the sour,  I was fully aware of the "perks" of living in a building from the Flapper era. When I signed my lease, landlord Dave advised me on purchasing some space heaters and flashlights. Moving in without those two purchases I quickly discovered the importance of both. Space heaters so I don't get hypothermia and flashlights to see my way through the dark, as I fumble around the scary basement in search of a circuit breaker.  I bought both the next day.

My third morning in my fabulous new apartment as I'm doing my hair for work, and all of the electricity cuts out, Dave's voice instantly runs through my head: "This building is old, so make sure not to run two major appliances at the same time" and then he proceeded with this example "Like a blowdryer and a space heater" Thinking landlord Dave must be some sort of for-shadowing wizard, I ran down to the basement on my way out the door, and switched back on the power for my unit.

I was surprised when I came home that night to a cold dark apartment.  Maybe I forgot to pass the message along to Meadow?  I know how she blow dries her hair while standing in-front of a running microwave...

Making my way down to the basement I was greeted by landlord Dave, he was down there as well, flipping all sorts of switches and dropping crazy amounts of F bombs.  I asked him if everything was okay, and it turned out someone (me) or something, again (me) turned out the power for the entire building that particular day. Being an honest person, and a horrible poker player, I showed land man Dave the switch I hit that morning.

 Yesterday was the perfect afternoon to unload the rest of my belongings from my car into my new apartment. Driving around for three weeks with half of my life in my car, is just the way I roll.  My place is slowly coming together. Owner of the land, Dave, saw I was doing laundry yesterday and stacked the washer up with quarters for me. That nice gesture led me to believe that I wasn't the first Flapper in the building to make that rookie mistake.

Aaahoo! Werewolves of Up-Town.

Snicker's surprises and Reese's peanut-butter treats galore, having those two chocolate delights at your fingertips is reason enough to look forward to the Eve's of Hallows.  This Hallow Evening I met my new landlord, Dave, and paid the man.

I found the apartment on Craigslist with an ad that read:  Live in UPTOWN & Get your FALL SPECIAL 2nd-floor apartment NOW!! Best location in the City, located on the downtown side of City Park and only 1/2 mile from Lodo. The Lafayette Apartments are a great place to live on a very cool historic Victorian block, Come see it this weekend, you'll love living in our building! Nice fenced and gated safe yard with a great barbecue & picnic area too :)

I thought he had me at BBQ pit, but with this picture attached (those windows had me at... HELLO!) I scrolled down to find....

More windows, with a view...

Dave showed me the place yesterday, and I fell in-love.  Craigslist allowed us both the awkward dance of... "I normally don't take personal checks from new tenants" (that's Dave...)
and "Okay, I'm giving you cash to hold the place, but won't have keys until Wednesday??" (That's me)  It was hard to refute either one of our stances, we both had solid reasoning.

However, we came to an agreement and I move in this Wednesday!!  (I'm fairly confident you wont see me on the 6'o clock news, with a craigslist ad that has gone a-rye)

(Side-Bar)

I definitely wont have internet, I'm hoping to have heat, and am not positive on the electricity part (as of yet). So don't hold your breath for updated window pane pictures, but do hold your breath for future tails to-be-told of Tiffany in her new 'Up-Town' digs.  Coming soon!

Nearside Attractions

“Those cowgirls always bitching because the only radio station in the area plays nothing but polkas, but I say you can dance to anything as long as you really feel like dancing.' To prove it, he got up and danced to the news.” -Tom Robbins

Hoppy 67th! or 76?

"The most important things are the hardest to say, because words diminish them"- Stephen King.



After hours of writing, and getting nowhere.
I decided to take Stephen Kings advice.
But first, I had to post the song I've been
playing all day here in Denver, for TQ senior's
birthday. After all, "You're in charge of
celebrations"

In Her Shoes

How do you wish one of the most important people in your life a happy birthday? Um, you can start by writing a tribute, followed by erasing a "tribute", writing...  only to erase everything again. Or you can just erase, and dedicate them a song that once upon a living room moved both of your souls to hit the repeat button for an entire morning.


"But with eyes shut... it's you I'm thinking of" I love you SO much sister-pants- there's not even words (trust me- I've been constructing here for hours!) With that being said. "I think I'm a little bit
Little bit
A little bit in love with you" Happy Day of Birth, Pants!

Good Winter

For Emma... Forever Ago.  "It's about an ancient love"  Justin Vernon, the front man of Bon Iver described his first album, as such.  I'm not sure if it's his hypnotizing voice, or the sheer emotion he puts into his music- but the man has me sprung! I'm starting to worry that I may never listen to anything else. Upon further investigation of my current love (For Bon Iver... Right Now) This album came to creation as he sought solitude in his father's cabin in Wisconsin one winter (relative...) He was tucked away from society for three months only to emerge with this beautiful piece of work. Changing his stage name to Bon Iver (meaning good winter) Facing his demons and uncertanity of his life allowed him to "come out of the cabin" a new man, with a new name.

Fancy Shoes

I thought the lyrics alone were enough to make me want to dance in a circle with my dress swinging high, wearing my fancy shoes tonight. But the video is far more outstanding! I could hardly contain myself from dancing long enough to share this little gem with you folks. One of the first scenes when those young lads tip their hats to " Have a drink here- say your goodbyes" I don't think I've ever watched a single music video as many times as this (I'm still searching for the loop button, suppose youtube isn't as advanced as itunes) Keep your eye on that tricky guy in the end- I think he may have turned his brunette dancing partner in for a blonde!

Sing Me A Song and I'll Dance.

I can't seem to get enough of this Ryan Adams song today- and thought I'd share him with you cats.

Are you still on the stoop?

Watching the windows close...

I would insert the saddest picture of myself on the stoop of my old apartment, the day I was leaving. But I will save the dramatics for a later date and time. This song has found me writing to stoops, street lights, and brighter futures.  A wise soul let me know today that "everyone has a choice, and choice is power" Well I've removed myself from that stoop once upon a time, and I have the strength to continue to do so. If my brain continues to revisit it from time to time, it just reminds me of how strong I am- and hopefully will continue to be.  I'd rather focus on that favorite day by the seaside. 

"What'd the five fingers say to the face?"

SLAP. Now that’s something that Rick James would say. My nephew, Rick Collins, on the other hand would say something along the lines of ‘Keepsin’ it reals’. I’ve never encountered another human being capable of so many name changes in such a short amount of time.

At the mere age of seven he grew tired of his birth given name, and decided he wanted everyone to call him “Flint” (this was his grandfather’s nickname on the track team). Flint had a ring to it, but not enough of a chime to carry him through middle school. Seeming a bit more established, he let go of the name Flint, and decided to go by ‘Rodney’. Always being a revolutionist of sorts, my nephew was a head of the game in so many ways. No sense walking this planet having people call you by anything other than your absolute favorite name. He was highly aware that his destiny was in his own hands.

Fickle to some, but a genius to me, he went back to his roots and let go of the name Rodney. Well, a form of his roots, and started to go by the name Rick. I’m sure his teachers couldn’t deny the logic in Rick being short for Patrick. Where in the spelling of Richard do you see Rick? If you’re going to shorten your name, and ‘go by’ something else, the reasonable etiquette should be… just cutting your name in half.

It would have been nice to have a ‘Rick Collins’ pave the way for me. I was abnormally envious of those kids, who corrected the teachers during roll call. They all seemed so smug, and why were they “so cool” to “go by” something other than their actual name. In reality it was just a club I wanted to belong to. At the age of seven, my nephew decided to topple this club and make it his own. He was able to fine-tune the rules, as he grew older, and extend its membership to his peers. I like to think he gave the David’s of Enterprise High School complete confidence in saying, “It’s not David; I go by ‘Vid”

The artist, formally known as ‘Rick Collins, is now going by RC Collins. I’m guessing college has broadened his horizons to this name game, making it clear that initials are yours for the taking as well. I’m not sure if the formula is as simple as previous name changes, merely cutting the name into half. It appears you just take the initials of your first and last name, move them once to the left, and re-add your last name for flair. Viola. And there you have it. Seriously, how much cooler does TQ Quinlan sound? (Maybe the world viewed Albert Einstein’s Aunt a bit wacky as she went around talking about how great E=MC2 was, but whose laughing now?)

Today RC Collins turns 21, and has already shown the world, that you can be whomever it is you choose. If you want to be of Russian decent, then so be. If you want your name to be Rodney, then so be. As Cat Steven's would say "you can do what you want the opportunity's on" I for one am excited to see what other revolutions that RC has in-store. I know it's impossible to duplicate one of the best, but this world could use more cats like him. Keepsin' it reals' 24/7.

Bird's Nest

Was the name of the course. A disc golfing course. I guess its kind of a big deal out here in Colorady. I ventured out Saturday afternoon to see what all the hype was about. With Stella (that's the name of me camera) in tow, I snagged some stellar pics. And can't help but think of Frodo and friends when I glance at the pictures of the guys walking towards the foothills.

For TQ Senior

What better way to share a song with your dad (Ideally, I would prefer Bose speakers and some Mooshead)- But maybe this song will make the speakers- and he'll crack open a Moosehead- and give her a good listen.

Oh someday- when you're lookin' back

Dylan Break.

Taking my lunch break today, I found myself needing a break from my break.  I've overcome my fear of eating alone here lately, and enjoy my surroundings of people running around in business suits while feverishly looking at their wrist watches.  As I was waiting for my number to be yelled out at the deli, I found a high table and let my mind zone out into the sea of busy faces and telling watches.  My ears perked  as I heard Dylan's voice overpower the swarming conversations of spread sheets and data "Once upon a time you dressed so fine" my internal sound chord was struck. 


The Truman Show was a great movie and I find it resurfacing my brain from time to time, causing me to wonder if it's is all just a stage.  Today at 12:15, I thought the universe had found my anthem and decided to hit me with it on my lunch break.  [I know I promised to steer clear of the copy and paste feature, during the duration of this blog... but hey, it's these exact lyrics I'll need to re-visit when I overcome whatever this is I'm going through]

Once upon a time you dressed so fine,

Threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you ?

People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall,"

You thought they were all a’kiddin' you.

You used to laugh about

Everybody that was hangin' out.

Now you don't talk so loud,

Now you don't seem so proud,

About having to be scrounging your next meal.

How does it feel ?

How does it feel ?

To be without a home ?

Like a complete unknown ?

Like a rolling stone ?

Aw, you've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely,

But you know you only used to get “juiced” in it.

Nobody’s ever taught you how to live out on the street,

And now you're gonna have to get used to it.

You say you never compromise

With a mystery tramp, but now you realize

He's not selling any alibis

As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes

And say, “Do you want to make a deal? 

How does it feel ?

How does it feel ?

To be on your own ?

With no direction home ?

A complete unknown ?

Like a rolling stone ?

Aw, you never turned around to see the frowns

On the jugglers and the clowns

When they all did tricks for you.

You never understood that it ain't no good,

You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you.

You used to ride on a chrome horse with your diplomat

Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat.

Ain't it hard when you discover that

He really wasn't where it's at 

After he took from you everything he could steal ?

How does it feel ?

How does it feel ?

To have ya’ on your own ?

With no direction home ?

Like a complete unknown ?

Like a rolling stone ?

Aw, princess on the steeple and all the pretty people

They're all drinkin', thinkin' that they’ve got it made.

Exchanging all precious gifts, 

But you'd better take your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe.

You used to be so amused

At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used.

Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse.

When you ain’t got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose

You're invisible now, you’ve got no secrets to conceal.

How does it feel ?

Aw, how does it feel ?

To be on your own ?

With no direction home ?

Like a complete unknown ?

Like a rolling stone ?

Youtube is an amazing tool- but sometimes seeing the words in-front of your face- is all the brain really needs. And a good night's rest. 

Vanilla Sky

David: Do you remember what you told me once? That every 

passing minute is a another chance to turn it all around. 

Sofía: I'll find you again. 

David: I'll see you in another life... when we are both cats. 

Barnes&Drama

It's been quite the eventful evening here at the Barnes&Noble.  Cell phone conversations can result in bad break-ups, finding Jesus, and who to steer clear of next year at summer camp.

 Thinking I was safe amongst the war novels (who reads those?) but dangerously close to the Ladies bathroom, I encountered a nasty break-up.  I didn't catch her name, as she wasn't speaking in the third person, but this Brian character did not get the hint. She must have repeated twenty times that she was sleep deprived, and if you love someone you let them go! Dammit! 

And the gentleman on the telephone in the next isle was just as  aggravated with the individual on the other end. "It's not like a Quija board, you have to ask Jesus what pages you need to go to.  Not just open the book and pick a page."  I'm thinking he was reforming a Quija Board using wizard to Christianity.

Though this final conversation didn't take place via cell phone, but rather two girls passing, "He was a real player at camp." I can't help but wonder what kind of character this cat is the other 51 weeks of the year. 

Pass The Pastels, and Pour The Wine

My best friend, Claude... The Dog Bounty Hunter (A nick-name bestowed upon him by my Step-Father) was given said nick-name when he flew to Denver to drive back to Alabama with me. It has a ring to it, this I can admit, but it does cause a bit of alarm in my book.  Am I the convict on the run?

Moving along, Claude and I signed up for this art class at the art museum for Thursday nights.  Divulging the truth here, the title is what caught my eye. "Sip N Sketch" If only my art teacher in high school had supplied us with wine, I undoubtedly would have been an A+ student.

   

It was a very therapeutic evening. Claude "The Dog Bounty Hunter" is a natural born artist, and has some pretty amazing work.  Once I unshackled my intimidation of the other students, I picked up those pastels and found my muse amongst the still life table

Edvard Munch's The Scream

Buckling down

And letting the pastel chalk do its 'thang. 

Once the Bounty Hunter found his still life muse

Borrowing my 9th grade math teacher's mantra when he needed me back in my own seat, Claude "focused like a laser" 

I'll just go ahead and toot both of our horns. I see frames in the near future of these masterpiece's lives.

 
    

Grape Expectations

Oh Rearry.... Alabama lets one build their own six pack of desire. With great grape expectations I chose the Blue (blueberry)ale.  My pal Claude went with the Samurai. That's Exacarry what a ninja needs to drink. 

The Music That I Want...

Is Cheaper Than Therapy. 

Mr. Sam Beam is better known for his stage name, Iron & Wine.  The name Iron & Wine is taken from a dietary supplement named "Beef Iron & Wine" that he found in a general store while shooting a film.  The sheer sound of his voice puts my spirit at ease, and I often seek the company of Iron&Wine to combat sleepless nights. 


I share my love for Iron&Wine with an old co-worker of mine, Davina. "He makes me want to grab an easel and paint some crazy things" as she describes it.  Though our appreciation for him is comparable, for me, he appeases those brain waves that like to keep me awake at all hours of the night.


Those same brain waves, that like to keep me up most nights, also love the loop button. Often they choose to play  "The Sea and The Rhythm" over and over by Mr. Beam.


Opening my eyes yesterday morning, and realizing the date, it dawned on me that my main man Mr. Beam released a new album!  It had been four years since this lyrical genius had put out any new material. 


Yesterday felt like a holiday in my musical world.  It was like an old friend re-appeared after being on a four year hiatus.  And, I was not disappointed of his new perspective on this crazy world, while he was away those four years.


Davina and I shared our elation over text messages yesterday, and both decided number seven is the best track on the album.  So I'm going to pay it forward and share this gem with all of you!

My Bohemia

And so off I went, fists thrust in the torn pockets
Of a coat held together by no more than it's name.
O Muse, how I served you beneath the blue;
And oh what dreams of dazzling love I dreamed!

My only pair of pants had a huge hole.
-like some dreaming Thom Thumb, I sowed
Rhyme with each step. My inn was the Big Dipper.
-My stars rustled in the sky.

Roadside on warm September nights
I listened as drops of dew fell
On my forehead like fortifying wine;

And there, surrounded by streaming shadows, I rhymed
Aloud, and as if they were lyres, plucked the laces
Of my wounded shoes, one foot beneath my heart.

- Arthur Rimbaud

Droid Life.

"Excuse me while I kiss the sky"- Hendrix.

 

 

Re: No Subject

"You'll never see my face again," I said. And I actually meant it. This time.

We had been discussing my idea of moving for a few weeks, but that night, as I tried to draw comfort from him, he pushed me away. In my studio apartment, there was no place to go. Isolated, I felt more alone with him being there. Privacy from my own isolation - how ironic. It was assaulting me in my own apartment. Unable to indulge myself... Am I leaving him? Am I leaving this apartment? How will I get there? To Florida? But I love Denver.  Do I really want to leave? Am I ready? I missed my family, though I knew this would mean saying goodbye to him once and for all. But it's the logical thing to do.  I'm logical, right?

Heading to the bathroom to be alone with my handful of reasons to relocate my life, I couldn't help but see the poetic justice in my final goodbye that Thursday morning at 5:00 am. Surfacing hours after my departure into the bathroom, with the realization...this is my apartment, who are you to lay in my comfortable bed in your peaceful slumber, as I tried to find comfort on the tiles of a bathroom floor with a book in my hand.  Bed time is over:

"Ya' gotta go" I said, as I ferociously flipped on the lamp.

 His fits of rage pierced my apartment as I stood next to the door. I let the feeling of this will never happen again saturate my body.  Holding my breath while focusing on those soothing words, I deprived him of his declarations of warfare. There was no need.  The battle was already over.

Delivering him to his own sleep haven, I sat motionless, as the car door slammed in those closing moments. Watching him climb the stairs to his apartment, I knew this was our ending to a once sort of fairy tale. You'll never feel this way again, I reassured myself and my feeble car doors. Making my way back to my now serene apartment, I embraced my angst about future plans with the lights on.

Ripping the posters off the wall, and moving the boxes out into the hall, I allowed my own words to fuel me. "You'll never see my face again."

His reply of "this better be the last time" has been contradicted by his recent texts: "I love and miss you, and I want to see you... and you don't even care to respond.".

Though he didn't realize I had actually moved my life halfway across the United States, I did mean it this time.