Wednesday, December 5, 2018

instability fuels artistic crisis!

I'm knitting knitting knitting this winter away. I've made 4 shawls and 2 scarfs and am giving them all away. The shawls have gotten increasingly thicker- like Moroccan Carpets at this point. All different colors; like little tapestries.

Well, idk why it has happened. but i'm having an artistic crisis. I dread even going into the details so please forgive me. The deal is I want more. More fun, more music, more love. More understanding better gigs and less hassle. I want people to understand me; and when they do I want them to leave me alone.

What goes up must come down. There is a paradox going on here! I strive to do different things and to challenge myself, and when I do I stress myself to the max and end up hurting myself (like my back when I made the glass umbrellas for the city this year) Or my shoulders when I joined the Cinematic Symphony last year- they still haven't healed. I hurt them tensing up trying to do something that I've never done fluently: read music. It was too hard. It's going to take some time to get better - but tell my body that.

This opens up a channel inside too: for inspiration! For me to listen to you and learn. To FEEL inspired by your achievements. I love that feeling. Rather than the other: envy. So, let it roll please.

Please tell me how you've conquered your fears, your illnesses, your heartaches. What you've done, how you've dealt with it, how you changed or modified your thinking. Thanks for sharing!


Thursday, July 6, 2017

Note to my younger self on the art of making art

Dearest sweet Allyson;

You are a do-er. So, if you ever feel depressed because your not doing something, anything, just remember that it's ok. It will not last, and you will be doing something interesting again soon. You will have years of what I'm calling an "art desert" but that too, shall pass. You will say to yourself, ugh! That was hard, I'm glad that year(s) is over.

Sweetie, you have to make your own creative opportunities. Decide what YOU want to do, and then sit back and wait 5 years, maybe 10. You will look back and you will have done it. It might not look or feel as you expected.

IT IS OK that you wait until the last minute to do most creative things, but you have to suffer those consequences. (that comes from a therapy session you have had in 2017 so don't worry about it for now except that now is then)

The people you work with is paramount. You have stayed in creative situations WAY too long thinking that nothing else would come your way, but this is dysfunctional. Things DO end and you will be glad they do.

On that note letting go is not easy for you, and it's not easy for most people. But time heals. And, in 2017 time heals things a lot quicker, I believe, because you are not pouring fuel onto your flames.

You are an intellectual and thrive on mental and physical stimulation. You are also an athlete so don't forget to exercize! Also, you will be forever trying to calm your mental state.

You doubt yourself and you worry too much; but you are a leader. Note that not all people can lead a group and you can. Feel good about it; it requires a grace that comes over time.

You are highly emotional and sensitive, don't lash out if you can help it. You ALWAYS regret it.

Some people will loathe you and even hate you at times. You will forever be dealing with this emotional consequence of your person, your humanity.

As they say, patience is a virtue that doesn't come easily to you. It helps to tell yourself "patience". It calms you down.

Doing TOO much makes you miserable. Less is more, you will understand this better and better; because you certainly can't do all the things you want to; because you want to do so many different things.

photo: Todd V Wolfson






Saturday, December 31, 2016

The pain the art the love the joy the pleasure of pain

In attempts to calm my soul my musician buddy Paulie Think gave me this to listen to::: https://youtu.be/53LxQlWG7PM

The Pain Body, as described by Ekhart Tolle. I've listened a lot to him in the past and learned a lot, but I have not achieved this passive distance from my pain, past and present, as well as suffering as described in this video. 

We all know pain makes great music, cracked open and heart wide I think I've made my best record yet (the lone wolf meets the underdog) -- it's my "divorce record" all songs I've written in the last 2+ years after leaving my marriage.

I started this passage when I was in a lot of pain! 

I'm not in the deep emotional pain anymore, that was hard! But I still have some pain problemos. I have TMS; if youre interested in pain disorders. I'm trying to reorder it; that is my New Years Resolution. I really think I can help myself, I'm quite hopeful! This pain disorder centers in the brain and essentially cuts off oxygen to the muscles, sending a message that there is a problem there...but guess what!!!?? There is no problem with my back it is quite strong!

Anyway, back to my record. It is true! I have made my best record, and it was well-received.
It's not live on itunes yet but I'm hoping it will come soon.  See a review here>
It got a top 10! See here:> 

Imma start my year with some resolutions but I haven't written them yet........

Saturday, October 8, 2016

Mexican Not American

The Spanish Man was a gentleman.

The Spanish Man is NOT Spainish, he is Indio and the the color of his very dark reddish skin is enchanting. 

Those that send money home are delightful; but they may not believe in Christ which is fine by me; since I don't either. No Le pregunte sobre La Virgin.

I promised myself I would never date another Mexican; and don't mean Chicano, cause they are very possessive. And Macho. But dayum he could fix my car (mechanico) or likely help me with anything around the house, gladly. And that skintone! 

An American man or boychild wants a booty call; to meet at the club, for you to pay his meal or have sex before its time but the Indiginous Mextizo will take a girl to eat at her favorite Mexican food restaurant, let her order whatever she wants, allow her to take HERSELF to the club, cause she wanted to ride the scooter;  but still waits outside to pay her entrance to the club.

...Buys her fizzy water unsolicited, does not get wasted or take drugs and dances all night to Cajun music and wears sexy boots like the campesino that he is. 

Not country-western boots, COUNTRY boots. 

The Indian would have liked to take her home but does not in a million years expect to; speaks Spanish to her/me all night nor does he expect a kiss but probably would have delighted in one. 

He dances close but is not aggressive; and did not shove his tounge down her throat unexpectedly like the white man with the blonde mustache did on his first "date"; outside the same club; which actually wasn't a date at all. 

He works 7-5, M-F plays futball, tiene cuerpo athletico, goes to dance, and is my same age which makes me feel good and not competitive. Tomio tantito Cerveza but surprisingly does not chastise me when I smoke a cig. 

Discusses machismo, and says he hopes I never see his machismo side though if dates continue that is certainly inevitable. Girl has already felt the pull of possessiveness. 

So entirely NOT sure if dates will continue; not knowing if the color of skin can sustain the relationship, cause I would marry into that skintone; if only for a greencard or an even better permanent resident alien Visa. 


Friday, October 7, 2016

Babes Babes Babes! UGH Never Have I been so in love, nostalgic, and obsessive for you.

One sleepless night.
One documentary about Bob Weir; where said sleepless night found me snoozing to the delight of who is Bob Weir. 
One Fresh Air Interview with Bob Weir. 
A thousand plays of the record American Beauty as of late. 
Crying to said record. 
Feeling not so much like an American Beauty. 
Being surrounded by real time gorgeous smart, talented American Beauties. 
Being told unprovoked, many times that I'm one of these American Beauties. 
Not believing I'm worthy of the label. 

OK here it goes: confession is progression for me! Gotta get it out. 

I have been quite circular as of late in my thoughts surrounding my age, the grateful dead, my musicianship, my age, and the ages of others. 

ALL I NEED IS A SNUGGLE

And, maybe a loving touch. And a daddy. In this pursuit I have found myself in trouble! I have a dad, of course, but don't feel very connected. It doesn't take a rockstar therapist (though I certainly have one) have had several, in fact, to tell me that I need to: 

a. give myself the love I need
b. take care of the inner child
c. not rush into physical relationship
d. avoid the {{{compare and despair}}}

The last few people I have dated have all been younger than me; not by much, maybe a year or three. But I've found myself unexpectedly attracted to younger man. 

Anyway, I don't know what has happened. I've always gravitated to older men. ALWAYS> I like smarter men, too, smarter than me, please. And colorful, please.  But, lately I've experienced a certain egoism with my collected experience. Digressing...

For these reasons I'm not normally attracted to youngsters. And this particular one is not a good idea for me for reasons I'm not willing to write in public. 

Insert the Grateful Dead obsession. I have been feeling low, that I should be younger, more beautiful, have had earlier success, more talent, ad nauseam fears. 

Bob Weir comes into my life again. He has written his first batch of new songs in 30 YEARS! lol. Wow. Go Bob. Check out "Blue Mountain"

So far, they are a beautiful collection of songs. Thank you Bob. Getting to know him through his interviews has jogged my memories. 

There is a certain summer in 1991when the Grateful Dead was going to be at a three night stint in Las Vegas. (my current ((but not only -- I'm not crazy)) romantic interest was a 3 yo) 

My sister (yall know, the one and only taken to the other side way too young at 32) my best friend Laura Rosenbaum and I packed up our Birkenstocks, some beer in a cooler, and bought some tickets to the Dead and started the cross country path to Vegas. We had one ticket each for the nights. 

We got into a rollover car accident. 

We ended up, upside down in a ditch. 

We were all safe, but rattled. 

I don't remember how we got home; but we all got MIP's that came back to haunt me later$. 

Back in Austin I was LIVID not scared> how could this happen? Somewhere in my mind I knew it was my one and only chance to see the Dead (as it was) and my two best friends from high school, the Boyd twins were meeting me there. My compadres stayed behind.

The twins and their older brother Normie introduced me to the Dead; and in '89-'91 hippy culture was back full on. Me and my friends listened largely to Cream, The Dead, Cream, and the Dead, Neil Young, and I personally loved Joni Mitchell. *along with some Judy's, Paul Simon, & Lenny Kravitz. Let Love Rule? Mamma Said? Retro CLASSIC AMAZING love it still> Nostalgia.  

Anyway, I powered on. I bought a one way ticket and found myself one day late to the show I had ticket for. 

I looked and looked for a miracle. I didn't have to look hard. It was called "A miracle" if someone gave you a free ticket in; a spare ticket. 

I entered the stadium. I found my friends. I lost my friends. I got lost in the culture. I have NEVER experienced anything like it in my life since. 

The vibe was SO LOVING. I was not on acid yet. In one splendid moment The Dead was playing "Women are Smarter" it was religious. A real spiritual experience. 

I took some liquid acid. It didn't work. I slept in a bush on the strip. I wore a hippy skirt with a draw string and paisley's. 

I rode home with a sweet girl I met and we got gas vouchers all the way back; from you know various churches along the way. I bet you didn't know! Neither did I. It was a huge pain in the ass but it was an adventure. I've never seen her again. 

Now that those days are long long passed (I have never experienced anything that loving in a huge group of people ever, a real love fest filled with amazing music...) 

WHY ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH WOULD I WANT TO ERASE THAT TIME, DISCOUNT MY EXPERIENCE AND PRETEND I'M A MILLENNIAL? 

I'm a GenXer all the way. And I need to feel empowered by that; or just empowered for who I am. 

Sometimes I do. The beauties around me, they are largely 27, 28. They haven't started aging yet. They are talented and gorgeous. They could easily be perceived to my arrested mental state to be a threat. But they're not. 

They have so much to offer me; and I cherish them. I cherish what is real. You know who you are. 




Saturday, September 24, 2016

Time travel // some other lifetime

Spain! We have one more night together. I already miss you; your cobblestone streets, your strong cafe con leche, your gorgeous women....

Last night on the street, on my way to meet Raindogg, I passed an old man on the corner playing beautiful Italian style accordion. I dropped 3 euros in his cup and asked to take a picture - I started the video so I could share him. The video on the phone wouldn't work. As I got more and more excited about his playing his tune; he started playing more and better, playing to me. 

He was amazing, like something out of a Fellini movie. I started tearing up, overcome with joy.

I still don't know what was causing my emotion. I let him know he moved me to tears. He nodded his head.


Tuesday, September 20, 2016

In three minutes....


In three minutes the alarm will go off. I've been up all night, and for nights on end really. My spirit is quite thrilled with the state of things, so very much that it doesn't want to rest.

Ug. Jennie and I are at a hostel and I have Bob Marley on the earphones to literally drone out the hurricane orchestra of snoring that Jenni is infamous for. 

Our car got locked in a parking garage leaving us in Tarifa unexpectedly for this night. This is surfer town with a bunch of hipster surfer Europeans. I think we all wish we could stay longer and meet people but we pushing on. 

I have been reflecting at my burst of art luck; traveling to foreign countries to play, getting to play ACL this year, and singing with two different country musicians on records (more later I don't want to jinx) and a new record that I'm so proud of.

.....but it has not always been. How did I make it through that traveling drought that lasted 5 years? I went nowhere I was too broke, and or I didn't have anywhere to go. Or I didn't want to go anywhere I'm not sure what happened, but I had a long period of vast creative nothingness exciting; which for me is rather intolerable. 

I was depressed, yes, and I think this is a period following my sisters sudden death; and I was good to hang onto my own life, not drowning just as she did. 

Ironically, the descent to fun now, 10 years in the making, started with a little church my husband and I bought in the country...in Bartlett, TX. 

It was a Victorian manse he found online, and he got excited. We went out to see it: two properties across from each other; one a huge Victorian house that was falling in but still had a ton of charm. 

The other, a property I bought myself:: a little house on the prarie church with huge clear stained glass windows on all sides. 

Bill was selling the two places; about 50g each. He worked in Fort Hood for the army but moreover, he was a psychic medium. 

Walking around the two places, he asked me-- do you have someone that passed over that looks like you? I don't want to scare you (the place was filled horder style with a ton of crap; and a piano) 

...but it's terribly distracting. She's running around; she's playing on the piano right now she's so excited for you about your new church. 

I'm sure I burst into tears. It has been 2 years since her death and I was a shell; going through  the motions; playing guitar in a band I started called the Easies, simple garage rock. 

He said I know nothing about music, but she wants to tell you something. It might be hard for me to explain it to you.

He described the neck of the guitar, the head, the tuning pegs. He said your sister is pointing to these things; she said, "you sound like crap."

"You need to set up your guitar" change out those pegs for better, set the action. I was playing a red Epiphone full hollow body made in Japan in the 90's.

He said a lot more things, about how depressed I was, she was worried about me. He said things only she would know, like when we were high in Barbados and with my cousins on a family trip, and a guy tried to give us a ride. They all wanted to go into the car- we were lost. 

Well, I actually was the only one that was high out of my mind but I got a bad vibe. She said (through Bill) you saved our ass. 

Anyway, only things my sister would know. A drought of shitty shows, and no traveling insued while I went under trying to pay for the church - I was broker than I have ever been. 

I stayed in touch with Bill for years; and he, with a couple others, guided me out of that joyless funk.

Yesterday in Tangier, all us musicians were in a rug shop. I'm obsessed with Persian rugs - like my dad. 

I went up to the top to look more. I was there alone with the sales men. 

They rolled one out for me. Prayer time happened, it was 5:30. The Muslims started singing....

I hit my knees And stretched out my arms and said give me a minute. 

I connected; I said thank you. I said sorry I have been in joy land for so long, in a sensory hurricane of music and earthly things. I said thank you God. 

After 5 mins I got up. The sales man said why are you crying???

I said you all connect 5x a day.....


Nurkie and band 

Mike and Kevin treated us to food and a cabana on the Mediterranean :: they are 2 NYers that came to have fun with Raindogg, my bass player....Mike featured right:-) it was a 1500$ day. That's Euros people!!!!!! Lol