starting in second gear

So, finally I have something else to blog about. J forced me into the outside world this weekend, at the expense of all the work we both had to do. But we ignored it, at least for one night, and drove down to Minneapolis to go to First Ave. and check out Doomtree.

First Ave: I love that place. I think it may be one of my favorite venues of all time. It stands, proud in all it's dive-y glory, on the corner across from the Excel Center. It's a monument to the local venue. There is no corporate sponsor, and although they can't let you smoke in there anymore, it still holds all the atmosphere of a smoke-filled dark and crusty club. It's been a long time since my sneakers stuck to the floor, let's put it that way.

And it was so good to see some local music. We went to the Doomtree Blowout, an annual celebration of, you guessed it, Doomtree, a Minneapolis hip-hop label/collective. They put on a great show, full of energy and grit, and, at the intermission, some great breakdancing. And... I found a new female rapper to love. It's rare to find a woman who can rap and command respect, and who has great lyrics as well. Dessa, of Doomtree, fit the bill. Of all the rappers present (and they were good), she was my favorite, with a distinctive style that reminded me of Mony Love (we're going way back here, folks) with her high staccato style, combined with maybe a little Lauryn Hill soul and intelligence. And her enthusiasm was contagious. The crowd was sooo responsive, not just to her, but the whole time, and the whole show thrived on it.

Aaahhh. And now I feel like a real person again, someone with a life. It was just what I needed, even though J had to practically drag me out. I was giddy with fun while I was down there, and we even killed some time before the show (after some Guiness) at Gameworks, that crazy arcade place downtown. I rode a Harley, killed some zombies with a shotgun, and watched people work it on one of those dance games (although, if you danced like that at a club, people would give you a wide berth, pinning you immediately as a demented Celtic sailor - "Lord of the Poopdeck"). All in all, a fun and silly time was had.

And it's been a long time since I've come home with one ear still ringing...

edit: I just listened to some Dessa clips on myspace.com and I have to reevaluate the Mony Love comment. I think it was just the show (don't get me wrong, I loved Mony Love, she had her charm) - it's a problem I've noticed when going to shows where most of the mc's are men, and then there is a woman. The levels just aren't set right for a female voice or something. Not that I'm an expert or anything, just something I've noticed...

anyway, if you have a myspace account (I had to poach off Liza), do a search for Dessa and listen to some clips. She plays around the Cities pretty regularly, and I would recommend her to anyone in the area looking for something new...

Labels: music

I've been having a bit of a rough time lately, as you may be able to tell from the ups and downs of my posts. There's just an awful lot tumbling through my head right now: MFA applications, current classes, my assistantship, whether to get my MA, oh yeah, and my writing. I seem to be in a productive period right now, for which I am always thankful, but why when I am in the middle of so much other crap? Probably because my brain is on overdrive.

Anyway.

So, I've been stressed. I've seen the signs that point to panic mode, but I wasn't really paying attention. I should be learning by now. On Thursday I hit major panic, and had a small anxiety attack. I say small because I was able to control it, to push it down and get home to safety. I didn't hyperventilate, although it was a near thing. I am glad for this because when it happened, I was in Bemidji, just about to head home for the weekend, and I knew that if I couldn't control it, I wouldn't be able to drive home. My drive home is isolated, dark and winding, rife with deer munching by the side of the road. I generally do not mess around on the way home, drive carefully and slowly, and with a wary eye. I knew that if I could not put away the anxiety, or at least postphone it, I wouldn't be able to get home, which was what I wanted more than anything.

I can thank two artists for making this possible. The first is Van Gogh. I stood staring at the print of this painting that I have in my office. It never fails to comfort me. It's as close to being home as I can get sometimes.

But the bulk of my thanks goes to Miles Davis, hands down. This isn't the first time he has pulled me out of something, but it was definitely the most dramatic. Off and on, all day that day, I had been listening to 'Round About Midnight, possibly my favorite Miles Davis album. When I went into my office and shut the door, feeling the impending panic, I put 'Round About Midnight on again. But just the first track, 'Round Midnight, over and over. It soothes me like no other piece of music I've found. It's like a hand rubbing my neck, brushing my cheek, running down my hair. This feeling is so palpable that if I close my eyes I can almost feel fingertips on my cheek. It is, I am convinced, the only reason I was able to slow my breathing, and stop those awful herkyjerky sobs that hurt my chest (I am not a pretty crier, especially at times like these, when there are no tears involved, just dry sobbing noises and hiccups and little pitiful whines and sniffles).

Thank you, Miles Davis. I love you.

Labels: mind-boggling life, music