Saturday, February 26, 2011

***Techno Nerd 4 Eva***

{JUNGLE}


Yes, I admit - I loved electronic music before it was everywhere and everything, dubstep before it was in a Brittany Spears song, electro before the hipsters took it over and added crappy lyrics and indie-band fusion turned TV-commercial remixes. My musical tastes developed from grunge and rock in the early 90's (middle school, early high school) to 80's EDM and industrial (The Cure, Marilyn Manson - I had a goth phase) and drove full speed ahead into drum n bass and jungle -and everything else on my massive, massive hard drive of music that exists today. (Combining libraries with my husband has made the grand total 10,585 songs, 66.87 gigs of music that would play for 67 days straight without repeating a track. ) I like to think I have something for everyone. I grew up listening to jazz because my dad was a jazz drummer, and played with bands in nightclubs when he was going to college. Strangely, I ended up marrying a guy who plays the saxophone(... although not as often as I'd like. Poke, poke. ) Thanks to my Miami upbringing, I have an affinity for Afro-Cuban beats and salsa, and love anything with hand drums or the didgeridoo - (which my husband also plays, which is phenomenal since I'm pretty sure it's my favorite instrument.)

As I drove home into the city this afternoon on 76 - always a lovely experience, I might add [insert sarcasm here] - I dug through my very limited car musical options, selecting a mix CD I made years ago entitled "Glitter Techno." (I am maybe the last person alive without an mp3 player. I'm okay with it.) I know that it's dorky, but it is still sooo good. And when I came across the track that inspired the title to my book-in-progress and now, this blog, I thought I had to share it. I hope you enjoy this. I think technically the track is in the trance genre, which everyone loves to make fun of - but hey, some of it is really good! Like every other music genre, the general populous can only think of 10,000 horrible examples and never hear any of the good stuff - once upon a time it was all hidden away on some rare EP within a DJ's massive vinyl collection, and now it's all on YouTube. (What did we do before the internet?)


Thursday, February 17, 2011

FIRE and the issue of personal responsibility

The first time I lit up fire fans, late night during a camping retreat
organized by the first group I performed with. (photo by Vinny Gasper)

Note: I was also not very sober, but I was being very safe, had a small army
of friends ready with fire blankets, and it was an amazing first burn.


Just the fact that there is a "fire scene" at all in my city is kind of annoying. There are enough assholes as it is here - we don't need an unusually high number of said assholes also thinking they're hot shit by lighting a bunch of things on fire. Unless it's been an event sponsored by a group I'm involved in, I have a tendency to not want to participate in, as well as actively avoid, things like spin jams on the other-fucking-side of Philadelphia. I guess it's also true that with the amount of time I have spent rehearsing actual planned, choreographed fire performances, the last thing I want to go to in my free time is somewhere to spin more fire.

There I am again, getting all high and mighty on my big flaming horse. Want to know what tipped me off? A post in a Facebook group that someone added me into (gotta love social media) by an old housemate of mine. It wasn't even recent - but it involves fire spin jams, and it's been winter - so it was still right there. Right there under my nose, waiting four months to annoy the crap out of me.

I even hate the word "spin jam" - it kind of reminds me of the word "jam band" and I kind of hate it like I used to hate the word "blog." (I have since reconciled with "blog" - as you can see, I have two and I'm currently writing in one. It must be o.k.) Maybe you don't know what that is, a spin jam. Let me enlighten you. (Your life will change forever.)

No, it won't. I lied. At it's best, a spin jam is an enjoyable gathering, generally at a park in nice weather, where groups of fire spinners can come together and take turns lighting up in front of their peers. It's practice, and a social event, and a place where people can learn, ask questions, try new things, and so on. This is of course not always exactly how these things pan out, but that's the general idea. Fire, while I appear to be somewhat blase, is a very dangerous, and very exciting medium to work with - and it is not for everyone. Like any "underground" activity, it attracts a strange breed - and an interesting mixture - of "burners", performers, artists, musicians, and all their friends - and on, and on. I could go on forever, (and the thought of that kind of makes me want to vomit.)

These events apparently happen often enough in Philly to warrant a Facebook group with 123 members.

I'm personally friends with a significant number of these members. I tried to find an exact number, but to no avail. I know almost every single one of the 9 administrators, and I'm decent friends with the majority of them. Despite my self-admitted weird fire issues (more to do with social anxiety than the actual medium) I love it - I love that I stumbled upon this beautiful world of avant-garde performing, I love that it thrives here so easily, and I love that I have SO many extremely talented friends to work with.

I'm also very quietly full of opinions, and that's why I created this outlet. I don't really have any enemies, or people that hate me (I think.) I try and be really nice to everyone I meet, and even with ex-housemates, the beef is more to do with respect for my friend and landlord than personal one-on-one problems. (I also had a kind of terrible experience working closely with them, and think their entertainment/nightlife promo "business" is frankly, a joke.) They have also engaged in what I consider bad business etiquette, with a spotty history of underpaying performers at their gigs (or not paying them at all.)

That aside, I just very much dislike generalized restrictions on personal freedoms in public arenas due to someone else deciding it falls under the veil of "disrespect."

"
Hey everyone. How about we do Wednesdays AND Sundays every week? (until it gets too cold). For some people, weekends are better. For those who have been actively setting up these jams for the past few months, Wednesdays are preferred. We don't all know the same fire spinners. We don't all have the same schedules. I wan...t to practice as much as possible. SO, if one day works for you, great. If both work for you, even better. More fire! I would just like to ask that everyone who attends these jams please be respectful, do not drink alcohol, do not bring/do drugs, do bring fuel & duvys, AND be experienced in fire safety. If you do not understand fire safety, find someone to teach you. Today and tomorrow are looking rainy, hopefully I'll be spinning with you all soon. ♥"

The preceding post, dated back in September (users name withheld) is the reason why I started this in the first place - because while I agree (of fucking course) that if you're fucked up, you shouldn't be doing a lot of things (and one of those is spinning fire) - but to go so far as explicitly prohibit harmless recreational enjoyment in a culture that is known for its tolerance and acceptance just seems wrong. "Please be respectful..." to.... you? If I drink a beer and then I spin fire, I am being disrespectful to... you? Would it be MORE disrespectful if I perhaps, accidentally flung my lit fire fans toward your ponytail? I want to point out also that I am not condoning getting wasted and spinning fire - that is irresponsible and dangerous, and retarded to boot. It's like partying all night and then getting behind the wheel of a car thinking you're sober enough to drive. I'm irritated with the idea that someone with no real authority* feels the need to make a self-righteous, generalized assumption in a public group forum about what they consider "respectful." This recommendation is coming from one individual, and is grossly exaggerated. This is not about babysitting - the people involved are adults. Personal responsibility is everything in this kind of situation, and not to diminish the importance of safe and responsible fire spinning - but lay off, bitch.

(I'm attacking this because I have a bias against this person, it's true. I fully admit that I, for many reasons, have longstanding personal beef and I'm dragging this into the equation. BUT - I'm still annoyed and this is my fucking blog, so get over it. ) (*If you can call being a group page administrator authority on the subject, then I take it back.)

I understand that this cautionary request doesn't necessarily come from a bad place. We as a community of artists need to maintain respect from the authorities (police, fire department) and as a whole, ensure that any avenue used to display or practice our craft is as safe as possible. Yes - absolutely. Safety first. Always... however, if you, the individual, can't determine yourself what your limits are, you shouldn't be engaging in whatever activity you're doing in the first place. If you're the type of person who smokes a joint and then suddenly their basic motor skills are rendered useless and complex motor skills (as in spinning fire) are totally out the window - then maybe you a) shouldn't be smoking pot and b) shouldn't be spinning fire.

Just sayin'.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

The Penny Treats performance at PEX Heartburn V

Heartburn is my favorite PEX party of the year, besides Summer Fest. It's Valentine's day weekend, and this year it was in a giant, decorated warehouse space (as it should be) - a "secret location", where hundreds of beautiful people dance the night away.

This year I performed as part of the Penny Treats, a spin-off of a number we developed as part of Scorch for our performances at the PEX Summer Festival and the Philly Fringe Festival. We were asked to perform for this party, but at first since our original routine included a whole fire eating/skin transfer second half, we didn't think we were going to be able to do it. (There is no fire allowed inside the venue, only on the loading dock.) Somehow my dear friend Laura (aka Lady J) and I bucked up and rewrote the entire second half of the routine less than a week before the show. Here is the result! I hope you enjoy it. (Beware - NSFW, there are tassled tatas at the end.)

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Heartburn Reflection

I look at myself in the mirror today and I've turned into this different person - in a good way. Still have some old demons to battle, and sometimes think they may be around longer than I'd like. I'm doing these things, with ease and grace, without complications, they happen. I feel like the person my shy, insecure teenage self aspired to be. Generally, I also get that this person, this me (who while still me inside seems, from an outward point of view, so strange and exotic) feels , generally, at peace, one with all that is good and happy and blissful and alive. Bumper sticker takeback - MY god IS EVERYTHING. You, me, that rock, this pen, my cat, the wind and my aching back. All one.

And then, some asshole disrupts it. I had a run in with someone I swear I've never met (though he argued otherwise) and the energy was off. It confused me at first, then made me embarrassed that I could possibly have no recollection of this individual, then put together some pieces and felt like I was in a sticky trap. Wait. Stop. This does not feel right. Of course this is in the five minutes my husband leaves my side and is across the packed, sweaty room. (He and I have already determined that this is the warmest place in Philadelphia right at that moment.) Am I really this forgetful, or is this person just mistaking me for someone else? I realize I look like a different person quite literally, with a brand new haircut, first in many years. That must be it. Or is it fake, and that why the energy is repelling me so harshly, and my "friend" beside me can only lower her fake eyelashes and shrug slightly, to say - don't worry about him. And then I realize he's touching me - not groping, not blatant disrespect, but definitely not wanted and definitely out of my comfort zone for someone I am now convinced I really, really, do not know. Where is my husband? I excuse myself with no good reason and find him. We leave. One bad apple in a sea of ripening fruit, more of them destined to become inedible, some soon, as the morning continues on. The weird energy stays with me, and disturbs my experience - tainting, just slightly, the paisley patterns and fractal emerald palaces dotting my landscape, eyes closed or open.

PLUR, really, all the way. Love is the answer. (Probably.) Why are there those out there destined to slightly poison the experience for the rest of us? I'm thankfully not too familiar with having forceful, unwanted, sexist or misogynistic advances thrust upon me, and even the slightest bit of it from 10 minutes of my night(morning) makes me terrified of whateverthefuck that is in men that thinks that's okay. I don't want to know people like that, capable of that. If that's a mental chemical imbalance or emotional scars coming out, fine - but can't we extinguish it before it starts? I guess I could have protested louder, drawn attention to this spectacle somehow, had all of my friends (male and female, normal people) instantly come to my rescue. I rest assured if my husband had been involved this guy would have been outside in a manner of minutes, or at least on the floor out cold. Maybe he did really think I was someone he knew, someone not me, from wherever in Philly that was so commonplace and stereotypical (rattles off two major center city streets, both of which I happened to work on at some point - along with a million other people.)

Right. Or, I just let some random stranger ruin the end to a perfectly fantastic party. Can't we just hand pick the partygoers and kick out the douchebags already? Because while the universe certainly speaks some all-one connections, I just don't feel like including every asshole who accidentally got let into Mr. Mayjahs house cause they heard there were hot barely clothed chicks dancing around all fucked up. Sure, there are those, but I'm fucking sure as hell not one of them, and burlesque does not mean whore.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Nutrition!

aka - Women, their fat asses, and why they always seem to want to talk about them or;
Healthy Living: so easy a caveman could do it


All choked up

I wasn't always up on my Healthy Nutrition High Horse over here. Like most people in this country, I grew up eating a lot of meat, including fast food. Luckily, and thank god, my parents are what I now refer to as "foodies" - people who enjoyed food past the interest of just being fed. Growing up in Florida, they raised me with an appreciation for fruits (bountiful) and vegetables, FRESH fresh fish and seafood, sushi (eating it since I was a youngin'), and forays into various other cultural cuisines. I was very lucky - and still somehow, as a high school kid, managed to eat fast food all the time anyway. (And I didn't give a SHIT. ) Thankfully, I broke away from fast foodstuffs in college (possibly just because it didn't really exist where I was going to school) and with the help of roommates, ex-boyfriends, calls to my mom at home and the internet, learned how to cook for myself. It became a passionate hobby - I realized if I wanted to eat well, there was no other way to go about it than to figure out how to cook it for myself.

While I was going to school in Baltimore, I happened upon a job at a cafe that was opening up where my ex lived, just outside the city in Towson. It was a juice bar, with an emphasis on healthy and primarily (though not exclusively) vegetarian food. Working there changed my life. I slowly transitioned into vegetarianism as I poured over books from the cafe bookshelf when business was slow - I learned about the high rates of heart disease, cancer, and other ailments that were directly linked to a diet high in dairy, meat and fat. I was exposed to the disturbing information about hormones and antibiotics in animal products, and the horrific conditions of factory farms that run rampant with contamination, disease, and downright cruelty. For my health and my conscience, I made drastic changes to my diet. And you know what? Not surprisingly, I lost weight and felt better. Win-win.


So that's where I come from as far as food goes. I consider myself currently to be what I like to call a "bad vegetarian" - I occasionally, maybe once or twice a month, eat fish or other seafood. Other than that I eat a basic ovo-lacto vegetarian diet, meaning I still eat eggs and dairy products. (Vegan is the one that cuts out dairy and eggs, and while there have been times in my life where I was eating close to a vegan diet, it's just not for me.) Eggs are a terrific form of protein, and I really enjoy cheese. Milk I consider "cow-pus" and find somewhat gross, so I won't buy it or drink it. Butter I can take or leave, and rarely cook with it. (Olive oil all the way!) Everything in moderation, though - as much as I'd like to live on cheese alone sometimes, it's really not the greatest thing for you. It helps that my husband is somewhat lactose intolerant, so cooking with dairy in general is done sparingly.

I feel like lately - be it the cold winter weather or the new gym that opened up close to my neighborhood - EVERYONE and their mom is talking about dieting, exercising, or losing weight. Which is good, I guess. We should put thought into what we eat and how we take care of ourselves. Before we had so many choices, it wasn't an issue - and now it's almost a matter of survival. With an obesity epidemic on the rise and everyone suddenly realizing the importance of eating healthy, it should be an important part of our dialogue. Not just wintertime, but all the time. Just yesterday, the New York Times published an article titled "Government's Dietary Advice : Eat Less" - once again reminding Americans they need to a) eat more fruits and vegetables, seriously... and b) PUT DOWN THE motherfucking FORK!

It makes me want to bang my head against the wall. It's not rocket science, everyone! Stop eating bacon 3 times a day and put a vegetable in your mouth once in awhile. Maybe it's even *gasp* - a RAW vegetable, one that maybe isn't covered in ranch dressing or something equally nauseating? Speaking of ranch dressing - here is another fun fact about our food - the food additive MSG, or mono-sodium glutamate, is in a lot more than just Chinese food these days. In fact, it's in an alarming number of everyday processed foods that people eat all the time. Campbells soup, for example. Kraft Ranch dressing, and lots of other salad dressings and marinades. General purpose seasonings (seasoned salt varieties and more) tend to contain MSG as well, and in addition, it's hidden in even more of what we eat by simply being called something else. (And I will add the link to that information a little later, because it's important to know.)

Probably the worst thing to happen to our society as far as our health as a people has been the transition in our diet from whole, natural foods (vegetables, things from the earth) to processed foods. Go to any mini-mart or corner bodega in the country, and more than likely you will find nothing but bags of chips, sodas, gum, candy bars, and other crap that has a massive list of ingredients down the sides of it's packaging. Ingredients that include things that the average American can't even pronounce, much less know what it is. When I stopped working in a cubicle and quit my job, I was suddenly at home all the time - and even though I took my lunch to work a lot, I still occasionally grabbed breakfast or lunch from a restaurant, cafe, or whatever. I don't exactly live in the most... metropolitan areas of Philadelphia, so I didn't seek out that food while I was at home, either. I ended up losing weight and keeping it off, and I'm convinced that it's the absence of processed foods from my diet, along with not being in an office where everyone else is eating junk food literally all the time. (Vending machines, water ice, soft pretzels, candy... yuck. Nothing good for you.) That, and whenever you eat out - even if they give you the nutritional information - you can never be completely sure of the fat and calories you're consuming, and more than likely it's more than you would normally cook at home or consume if you knew the details.

Alright - so what IS safe and healthy to eat?

It's very simple. Obviously, vegetables and fruits. Whole grains, legumes, lean protein (fish, turkey, tofu.) More vegetables. Especially raw ones. Cook with olive oil instead of butter. Limit your intake of dairy, or try cutting it out completely. Eating right and still not seeing any difference? Don't forget to exercise. And stop drinking so much damn booze - full of sugar and empty calories.

As for eating veggies, french fries do not count. And trust me, I freaking love french fries. As a (bad) vegetarian, more often than not, if I'm out a bar or restaurant that doesn't have much I can eat, they at least have french fries. And oh, I will eat them and enjoy it. (Thankfully this doesn't happen too often, but here we are again with the word - moderation.) Potatoes are actually one of the least nutritional vegetables out there you can eat, and to boot the ones that are not organic tend to have high levels of pesticides. DO start incorporating things like dark leafy greens (spinach, kale, collards), broccoli, brussel sprouts, zucchini, tomatoes, avocados. If it's from the ground and it's colorful, eat it.

Fruits do contain sugar - duh - so don't overdo it. According to um, "science"... sugar from fruit may, or may not be, better or worse than table sugar (way to be vague, guys, thanks.) However, there are so many other nutritional benefits to eating fruit, like antioxidants and vitamins, that it should be worth the sugar you are consuming, unlike a candy bar.

If you've never had fresh juice (not from a bottle, from a plant that goes into a machine and all the liquid comes out), go to your local natural foods store and give it a try. Plenty of appliance manufacturers sell at-home juicers, but mine is only okay, and nothing compares to an industrial strength, commercial one. (They do make decent ones out there, but they tend to be expensive.) Carrot juice is delicious and great for you - try mixing it with a little apple and ginger for a tasty beverage. Cucumber, watermelon and lemon used to be a favorite of mine at the juice bar one summer. You can really juice almost anything, with the exceptions being soft squishy fruits like bananas with a low water content. (Those go in smoothies instead.)

(HERE is a great article from Huffington Post about the best and worst vegetables to eat and juice.)

So, if you've tried juice and are feeling bold and adventurous, one of my favorite new things to do with raw kale is throw it in a blender with almond/soy/rice milk or water, maple syrup or honey, and other fruit (today I included some frozen pineapple chunks and half a banana.) Kale is one of those perfect vegetables that has a whole lot of awesome shit in it for your body, and while I love eating it in a bunch of different ways, if you can stomach it raw it's really amazing for you. I too, was skeptical about this curious green beverage, but it's actually pretty good. I expect to feel like a champ when I get done chugging this one down.

Mmmm kale.

Even though the FDA and people in charge are finally starting to come out with new dietary guidelines and information like in the NY Times article I posted above, it does seem sometimes like our culture is trying as hard as they can to make our asses fat. And it doesn't have to be like that. I'm not saying you need to become a vegetarian (or anything else), but maybe think about laying off the cheeseburgers once in awhile. (Moderation, people.) Eat smart - it's not hard and it also doesn't have to be expensive, which is another myth. Asian grocery stores and farmers markets always tend to have cheaper produce than a conventional grocery store. I love to shop at Iovine Brothers in Reading Terminal Market here in Philly, where you can make off like a bandit with bags and bags full of produce for half the price. So America, eat some fucking vegetables and you will thank me - because your BODY will feel better. I promise. And this will be reason enough for you to continue.

As for women and their fat asses, I actually am not sure why they talk about them non-stop. Maybe it's supposed to motivate them in some backwards way? I'm sure it has a lot to do with a lot of things, and this entry is already long enough. My expert advice is to read this information and put down the fork. Your fat asses will thank you later.

Friday, January 28, 2011

Pink

I can't count, apparently. And I have pinkeye, so I'm quarantining myself tonight. We're about to move on to ice cream and movies on TV... (and by we I just mean me.) Cheers.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

To make a long story short




I changed the name of this from "Blessed Unrest" to "You Are Sleeping", which was the title of a short story (actually long story) I wrote a few years back. I never finished it. I guess you could say it's still in progress. I'll finish it someday... I promise.

I decided to lift a few of the privacy settings on here. I direct people to my art blog all the time, via facebook or my website. This blog was supposed to be more anonymous, more private - where I could write about all the things that are irrelevant to the other one, that have maybe nothing to do with art. Just life, my life, my thoughts, my whatever - which theoretically, should be boring as hell to a whole shit ton of people. Fair enough - I don't know if I want the whole world reading this anyway - but some are okay. I don't mind if someone stumbles upon it, or sees that I have another one via my art blog and peruses it occasionally. DON'T WORRY EVERYONE - THIS ONE IS GOING TO BE TOTALLY BORING and I also will probably offend you in some way, eventually.

There have been a couple of things that I want to be topics, eventually. They include:

1. Women, their fat asses, and why they always seem to want to talk about them (aka, Nutrition and Healthy Living - so easy a caveman could do it)
2. Enlightenment: You think you found it, and you're really just an ignorant piece of shit
3. I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!

Some of this may seem "angry", or not make any sense. Don't worry - some of it is angry, and it will all make sense later. I hope.

My goal here is not to provide my readers, if there are any, with wise words and thoughtful musings. This is my god damn writing outlet, dammit, and it's going to be full of disconnected thoughts, intelligent ramblings, and curse words. This is real life, and real life is more than wise musings. Real life is hard, and heart-wrenching, and disturbing... and beautiful, and fascinating. And full of destruction, and failure. I want this to be honest, brutally so if need be. Anything but fake, because I'm not here to please you. This doesn't exist for the purpose of smoothing it all over. I may be young, but I've had some horrible things happen to me in my life, as well as some truly beautiful, blessed things. Today, for example, is a very special anniversary for me.

Five years ago tonight (the 27th-28th), I was dragged to a warehouse party in downtown Baltimore by some friends of mine. I say "dragged" when I tell this story because I wasn't planning on going - I was tired, had to work the next day, and didn't see any damn good reason to leave my house in the freezing cold to go hear some shitty music in a crowded warehouse rave. (Yea... it was kind of like that anyway, but I recall the music being pretty damn good.) I was with four guy friends - Brandon, Nate, Drew and Matt, and very uninterested in leaving with anyone other than them. Throughout the night, each one of them graciously pretended to be my boyfriend in front of whatever creepy, pushy dude happened to be trying to talk to me/get in my pantaloons. I was wandering alone at one point, coming back from the bathroom and the enormous line that went with it, when I suddenly ran right smack into a pleasantly familiar face. It was Alex, a guy I had worked with a few years before at my first summer job in Baltimore, in between my sophomore and junior years at art school. By this particular night, I had already graduated from MICA, and hadn't seen him since the summer we met, except once or twice out at a club or a bar. The first time around, we hung out a few times after work, but nothing serious happened between us. I had a crush on him, I think, but I, in his words, "didn't put out" so he moved on. Next thing I knew, he had a girlfriend (who also worked with us) and I, though disappointed, moved on as well. (I was unfortunate enough to have to work directly with her almost every day for the rest of the summer. All I recall her talking about was; 1) the Disco Biscuits, 2) Drugs, or 3) Taking drugs while seeing the Disco Biscuits. As you can imagine, it got old real fast.)

Alex. Alex! The smiles on our faces that winter night could have melted the ice caps. He was on something, and I was on something, but no matter. That's how it was in those days. It only heightened the experience, and the pleasant ways which we each recalled one another from years before. We exchanged phone numbers, and I remember that I had left mine in the car glove box. We promised to get together soon and catch up. This party was thrown by his friends, and he had to continue on his way - I had to find mine, and do the same. By the time I got back to the car, he had already called me and left a message. A year and a half later, we were married.

So that's the long version of the story of how I met my husband.