Monday, September 13, 2010


10 minutes into the show I fell in love with David Bazan. 20 minutes in, during the "question and answer" portion of the show I found out he was married. Somehow Max had indirectly found a way to break my heart. Congratulations.

No but really, I didn't so much fall in love with him as I just wanted to be him. I envied his nonchalant state of being, his intimately small group of fans and his lyrical and musical talent. This night, I wanted to be somebody else. I wanted to be a balding bearded man in a simple black shirt and jeans rockin' out with my band in a small denver venue. How I envied the life I imagined he lived. They were headed to Nebraska next to continue their tour, just on the wide open road doing what they love. No bullshit. No fuss of the ridiculous reality of what I call life. I'm sure they have their own problems, but I don't see them as real human beings. I idolize the people I admire cause it gives me something to envy, and to reconfirm that my life sucks.

Ok so yeah, I have a lot to be thankful for. Depending on the perspective, some might say I live a good life. I have loving friends and family, a job to pay the bills, hobbies that make me happy (and frustrated) and a sweet little kitty. But I was told last night that I was the most lost person he had ever met in his entire life. And this is coming from someone who knows fuckin' everyone. And maybe living just a good life isn't good enough. I'm constantly unsatisfied with what I have and always searching for something better. The grass is always greener on the other side..and when I take a leap of faith and hop the fence to step foot on that greener grass, I realize there's another damn fence with blazing neon green grass on the other side of that. It's an eternal field where the grass just gets greener and brighter and blinding and I keep hopping that damn fence hoping it'll be the last but it's not. Instead, I become blinded by the grass and somehow lose my way and find myself standing in the middle of a damn field wondering where the next fence is.

At least I know that temporarily, I can stand there and feel the fresh green grass between my toes..and damn it feels good. I'm currently mid climb on my millionth life fence. Hopefully this climb is successful and I find myself on the other side. I'm hoping that other side is on a mountain in Vail, where the grass is fuckin sweet and the fresh pow is even sweeter.

Monday, September 6, 2010


I biked home furiously from the hi dive, on the first chilly night this summer had seen, feeling my face freeze from the speed at which I was going combined with the brisk breeze, reflecting on one of the more heartfelt shows I've been to all year. Sure it was a small show. There were only a handful of people wandering in and out, having meaningful and meaningless conversations with one another, as I stood there from start to finish. There were so many thoughts and emotions running through my mind as my heart beat in my chest and up against the strap of my side satchel purse, but during my bike home, all I could think about was how he thanked me with such modest and humble humility when I told him how much I enjoyed his show. There's nothing like experiencing a show of someone you've never heard before and being reminded of so many different moments and people throughout a forty five minute to an hour span. I stood there up against the wall where the cool breeze was the strongest in the indoor venue as his music took me down memory lane. It reminded me of my dad, and how I used to snuggle up next to him on the couch and watch his favorite dvd, The Eagles Farewell Tour, while he sipped on a glass of Johnny Walker Red on the rocks. He stood up there, face against the harsh lighting, eyes closed because the lights were so bright or because he was so into the music, but either way, I felt like a small town country girl with sun kissed dirty blonde hair in a summer sun dress. That's when I know the music's good, is when it makes me feel like someone/something I clearly am not. His cover of Wonderwall reminded me of my brother, who introduced me to Oasis when I was 10 and I remembered when we used to blast that song in our family's new Land Cruiser, parked in the garage of the small house we called home, at 1am. It also took me back to a few days prior to the show, when I attempted to play the rewritten version of the song to Max and told him about the time my three close friends and I rewrote that song about going to the Aurora Mall back when we were in high school. Why is it that I felt the need to write down all the emotions I felt, but when it came to writing it all down I couldn't remember? All I know is that, on this particular night, I kept to myself. I shelved my social interactions for the night and stood there to enjoy the music, and I did, I really did.