Hi everyone out there in the blogsphere!
I want to wish you all happy holidays and THANK YOU, so much, for your support of Swallow Hill and the amazing arts and music community we have in the Front Range.
I've been working "in the scene" since 2005, when my musician husband decided to take the reigns of a band he originally auditioned for. Yes, I was the one working corporate with the skills he needed to get a website going for the new band, then known as U.S. Pipe & the Balls Johnson Dance Machine. Since that time, we dropped the name down to U.S. Pipe, I took over a great deal of PR & management, and then I landed here at Swallow Hill. I've since cut back a bit on my work with U.S. Pipe to devote more to Swallow Hill, and, in 2009, I hope to follow my own passion of writing as well.
I have a real passion for writing AND I have a real passion for GOOD music. Not over-produced commodity crap "music." REAL music. Genuine music. Music that aspires to our highest levels. Music that pokes fun of our lowest levels. Music that is powerful. Music that is fun. Music that makes you realize, even for a short while, humans can be pretty amazing creatures who can create amazing things.
Art, music, poetry, all of it gives us meaning to our lives. I was raised very religiously--and it was a good thing, despite the fact that I will willingly say that I'm not really a proponent of religion. Nonetheless, it gave me a great foundation for an appreciation for the sense of something higher, something significant. To me, in my adulthood, I find that my higher thing is creativity. If I'm writing about a show, or about a wonderfully talented musician, or just about my own musings or in a poetry form, I'm at my best state of being in this world.
Thanks to those of you out there who realize this same passion, who give of your time and money to organizations like Swallow Hill, and who support the artists in our ever-changing community. We need you, they need you, we all need each other. I hope to meet many more of you in 2009 and share great music, art, poetry and overall creativity together!
Laura, aka "Spunky"
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Poem 6: Perhaps This Dream
Perhaps This Dream
i'd imagine it like this:
first, a long ride on a
sunday morning to a place we
never knew existed,
some impish grins,
some joining of curious lips.
i'd taste the berries you
had earlier that morning.
i'd imagine a gentle day/one
in which you could live forever/endless
miles of blue sky that stretch
from inside of your mind, that
blow out with the fresh wind.
we'd lay on the grass
the wildflowers, they'd
tickle our cheeks
i'd have to turn to you to avoid them.
but it would really only be
for the sake of looking at you
copyright 2008, Spunky
i'd imagine it like this:
first, a long ride on a
sunday morning to a place we
never knew existed,
some impish grins,
some joining of curious lips.
i'd taste the berries you
had earlier that morning.
i'd imagine a gentle day/one
in which you could live forever/endless
miles of blue sky that stretch
from inside of your mind, that
blow out with the fresh wind.
we'd lay on the grass
the wildflowers, they'd
tickle our cheeks
i'd have to turn to you to avoid them.
but it would really only be
for the sake of looking at you
copyright 2008, Spunky
Can't sleep! Too giddy.
So I can't seem to feel the need to sleep. It happens from time to time. I have weird sleeping patterns...well, if they can be called patterns.
Tonight I logged into my Swallow Hill email to see one of the artists coming in spring had returned an email of mine requesting a high-res photo for PR use. Sometimes I hear from the actual artists and sometimes I hear from reps. As I'd sent an email to an "info" address, I thought for sure I'd get a web manager or pr contact or some rep/management person but this one came from THE Tommy Ramone.
Yes, Uncle Monk will be coming to Swallow Hill in spring. Tommy Ramone from the legendary punk rock band, The Ramones, is now half of an acoustic, old-time duo. He traded in his punk drums for a mando!
I once again realized how fucking awesome it can be to be me. If you'd told me, as I bopped up and down singing "I Wanna Be Sedated" in my younger years that I'd have any contact whatsoever with anyone having anything to do with any of that, I'd never have believed you.
But now I get to interact with legends, idols of mine, people who make me giddy and somewhat intimidated. I'm like a high school kid with a secret crush!
It's exciting. Sometimes I love being me. I love being able to do what I do in these moments!
Tonight I logged into my Swallow Hill email to see one of the artists coming in spring had returned an email of mine requesting a high-res photo for PR use. Sometimes I hear from the actual artists and sometimes I hear from reps. As I'd sent an email to an "info" address, I thought for sure I'd get a web manager or pr contact or some rep/management person but this one came from THE Tommy Ramone.
Yes, Uncle Monk will be coming to Swallow Hill in spring. Tommy Ramone from the legendary punk rock band, The Ramones, is now half of an acoustic, old-time duo. He traded in his punk drums for a mando!
I once again realized how fucking awesome it can be to be me. If you'd told me, as I bopped up and down singing "I Wanna Be Sedated" in my younger years that I'd have any contact whatsoever with anyone having anything to do with any of that, I'd never have believed you.
But now I get to interact with legends, idols of mine, people who make me giddy and somewhat intimidated. I'm like a high school kid with a secret crush!
It's exciting. Sometimes I love being me. I love being able to do what I do in these moments!
Rosalie was amazing!
Caught GRAMMY NOMINEE Rosalie Sorrels at Swallow Hill for her first set tonight.
I've heard her recordings but never seen her perform in the flesh. She sounded even better than I'd have imagined! Her voice is so beautiful and at times haunting. She's also just a delight of a presence, reminiscing about Bruce (Utah Phillips) and her uncles, the people she knew, the stories behind the songs.
It was great to see such an iconic figure...one of the wondrous things about Swallow Hill is its unparalleled ability to present the wide spectrum of artists who have blazed trails and reached a level of artistry few ever do, as well as seasoned regional acts and the best in up-and-coming performers found in our backyard!
I'm also looking forward to the annual holiday party with the incomparable Clay Kirkland, joined by other amazing Colorado talent, tomorrow night!
I've heard her recordings but never seen her perform in the flesh. She sounded even better than I'd have imagined! Her voice is so beautiful and at times haunting. She's also just a delight of a presence, reminiscing about Bruce (Utah Phillips) and her uncles, the people she knew, the stories behind the songs.
It was great to see such an iconic figure...one of the wondrous things about Swallow Hill is its unparalleled ability to present the wide spectrum of artists who have blazed trails and reached a level of artistry few ever do, as well as seasoned regional acts and the best in up-and-coming performers found in our backyard!
I'm also looking forward to the annual holiday party with the incomparable Clay Kirkland, joined by other amazing Colorado talent, tomorrow night!
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Hand me that Hootenanny!
Hand me that Hootenanny!
by Laura “Spunky” McGaughey
(Originally published in the December, 2008 issue of Pow'r Pickin', the official publication of the Colorado Bluegrass Music Society)
What is a hootenanny and where did it come from?
The word “hootenanny” was used in the early part of the twentieth century to reference items that were forgotten or unknown, along the lines of “thingamajig” or “whatchamacallit.” It was also a country slang term for party. As someone who grew up in rural Kentucky, this origin conjures images of raucous moonshine-driven grinnin’ and pickin’—a hoot of a time!
The word hootenanny barely beat out the word “wingding” to describe the monthly fundraisers for Huge DeLacy’s New Deal political club. In more recent times, the hootenanny has become to be known as a gathering of folk musicians. In numerous interviews, Pete Seeger relates that he first heard the term in Seattle, Wash., in the late 1930s. Folk queen Joan Baez has made the analogy that a hootenanny is to folk singing as a jam session is to jazz.
Gaining popularity in the folk music revival of the 1960s, artists during that time would gather in the West Village of New York City under the flag of the hoot to share their newly written material together as opposed to singing traditional songs. These gatherings struck such a chord that they went from the underground to the mainstream with ABC’s “Hootenanny” program launched in 1963.
Whatever informalities exist or have existed, or whatever your belief may be about whether the hoots really come straight from the backwoods country or from the folksters of the boom generation, the hootenanny is alive and well at Swallow Hill. Indeed, the hoots of Swallow Hill have a history all their own.
When Denver Folklore Center proprietor Harry Tuft opened shop in 1962, he brought the spirit of the West Village to the Mile High City. Denver evolved into a very important music hub as artists traveled across the country from New York to California. It was in Denver they could stop, have a rest, connect with others in the community and even throw their own concerts.
Tuft began hosting hoot gatherings in the Denver Folklore Center on Sunday afternoons, modeling them after the round robins he attended back in the coffeehouses his hometown of Philadelphia. They started out more as sing-a-longs, with Tuft serving as the song leader, and were a great way for him to advertise and promote his store. Julie Davis, who worked with Tuft throughout the years, says that when he established the hoots in the 1960s it was “absolutely magical. The hoots were always packed to the gill, with people sitting in chairs and on the floor. And these people were all connected by the same passion for the music. There were some people who came every time, who just wouldn’t dream of missing it.”
As the popularity of the Denver Folklore Center hootenannies grew, Tuft began hosting them on Friday nights at the Green Spider, a neighboring coffee shop on East Seventeenth, in order to have enough room to accommodate the many attendees. These hoots were more of an open stage-type format, with a pay-or-play fee of 75 cents.
As time went on and Tuft and his Center became more known for the concerts they presented, Swallow Hill was established to serve as a nonprofit entity to both promote the concerts and teach the types of music that were presented through a music school. Operations for both moved to 1905 South Pearl Street and the hoots continued under the Swallow Hill roof within that space on Sunday afternoons.
Times continued to change during the 80s and 90s and the hoots came to an end for a period of time as the Folklore Center closed operations due to financial hardships. Eventually the doors reopened and Swallow Hill itself had grown by leaps and bounds. It was during this time period that Meredith Carson, Swallow Hill’s Concert Director, approached Tuft about reinstating the tradition of the hootenanny.
And so, every first Friday of the month at Swallow Hill in Tuft Theater, Harry the Hoot Master oversees the Old-Fashioned Hootenanny. It’s still proving to be one of the most delightful, community-driven forms of music sharing and entertainment that exists in a modern-day world of high technology and virtual reality. It’s now more of a unique cross between an open stage and a song circle and the people involved run the gamut, from new students gaining experience to established artists who just want to share in the fun.
It’s open to “any kind of amateur,” Tuft smiles. “And the audience is very forgiving.” If someone makes a mistake, there’s no retribution. “It allows people to gain confidence.” The Hoot is a place for people who want to share a song that’s meaningful to them, be it something they just wrote, an old sea shanty, a classic Joni Mitchell song or piano-driven pop. Sometimes others share along in the singing. It’s an open, all-genre, all-instruments welcome atmosphere that’s peppered by puns from Tuft. Indeed, many are attracted to the Hoot because of Tuft’s amazing ability to connect with people and make them feel welcome.
And, as Hoot Master Tuft says, it’s the “least expensive good entertainment in town.” The Hoots are just $3 pay-or-play and, still, packed to the gills.
by Laura “Spunky” McGaughey
(Originally published in the December, 2008 issue of Pow'r Pickin', the official publication of the Colorado Bluegrass Music Society)
What is a hootenanny and where did it come from?
The word “hootenanny” was used in the early part of the twentieth century to reference items that were forgotten or unknown, along the lines of “thingamajig” or “whatchamacallit.” It was also a country slang term for party. As someone who grew up in rural Kentucky, this origin conjures images of raucous moonshine-driven grinnin’ and pickin’—a hoot of a time!
The word hootenanny barely beat out the word “wingding” to describe the monthly fundraisers for Huge DeLacy’s New Deal political club. In more recent times, the hootenanny has become to be known as a gathering of folk musicians. In numerous interviews, Pete Seeger relates that he first heard the term in Seattle, Wash., in the late 1930s. Folk queen Joan Baez has made the analogy that a hootenanny is to folk singing as a jam session is to jazz.
Gaining popularity in the folk music revival of the 1960s, artists during that time would gather in the West Village of New York City under the flag of the hoot to share their newly written material together as opposed to singing traditional songs. These gatherings struck such a chord that they went from the underground to the mainstream with ABC’s “Hootenanny” program launched in 1963.
Whatever informalities exist or have existed, or whatever your belief may be about whether the hoots really come straight from the backwoods country or from the folksters of the boom generation, the hootenanny is alive and well at Swallow Hill. Indeed, the hoots of Swallow Hill have a history all their own.
When Denver Folklore Center proprietor Harry Tuft opened shop in 1962, he brought the spirit of the West Village to the Mile High City. Denver evolved into a very important music hub as artists traveled across the country from New York to California. It was in Denver they could stop, have a rest, connect with others in the community and even throw their own concerts.
Tuft began hosting hoot gatherings in the Denver Folklore Center on Sunday afternoons, modeling them after the round robins he attended back in the coffeehouses his hometown of Philadelphia. They started out more as sing-a-longs, with Tuft serving as the song leader, and were a great way for him to advertise and promote his store. Julie Davis, who worked with Tuft throughout the years, says that when he established the hoots in the 1960s it was “absolutely magical. The hoots were always packed to the gill, with people sitting in chairs and on the floor. And these people were all connected by the same passion for the music. There were some people who came every time, who just wouldn’t dream of missing it.”
As the popularity of the Denver Folklore Center hootenannies grew, Tuft began hosting them on Friday nights at the Green Spider, a neighboring coffee shop on East Seventeenth, in order to have enough room to accommodate the many attendees. These hoots were more of an open stage-type format, with a pay-or-play fee of 75 cents.
As time went on and Tuft and his Center became more known for the concerts they presented, Swallow Hill was established to serve as a nonprofit entity to both promote the concerts and teach the types of music that were presented through a music school. Operations for both moved to 1905 South Pearl Street and the hoots continued under the Swallow Hill roof within that space on Sunday afternoons.
Times continued to change during the 80s and 90s and the hoots came to an end for a period of time as the Folklore Center closed operations due to financial hardships. Eventually the doors reopened and Swallow Hill itself had grown by leaps and bounds. It was during this time period that Meredith Carson, Swallow Hill’s Concert Director, approached Tuft about reinstating the tradition of the hootenanny.
And so, every first Friday of the month at Swallow Hill in Tuft Theater, Harry the Hoot Master oversees the Old-Fashioned Hootenanny. It’s still proving to be one of the most delightful, community-driven forms of music sharing and entertainment that exists in a modern-day world of high technology and virtual reality. It’s now more of a unique cross between an open stage and a song circle and the people involved run the gamut, from new students gaining experience to established artists who just want to share in the fun.
It’s open to “any kind of amateur,” Tuft smiles. “And the audience is very forgiving.” If someone makes a mistake, there’s no retribution. “It allows people to gain confidence.” The Hoot is a place for people who want to share a song that’s meaningful to them, be it something they just wrote, an old sea shanty, a classic Joni Mitchell song or piano-driven pop. Sometimes others share along in the singing. It’s an open, all-genre, all-instruments welcome atmosphere that’s peppered by puns from Tuft. Indeed, many are attracted to the Hoot because of Tuft’s amazing ability to connect with people and make them feel welcome.
And, as Hoot Master Tuft says, it’s the “least expensive good entertainment in town.” The Hoots are just $3 pay-or-play and, still, packed to the gills.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Check out some of my best photos...
I have been working in recent times to put my work out there and share it with others as well as hopefully build my own ability to find freelance work and other worthwhile projects.
In this effort, I've set up a Flickr account to showcase some of my best photos.
I've seen and shot LOTS of shows through recent years but these are the cream of the crop...and have a real sentimental connection for me. I'm not a photographer by formal training/trade; I just play with it and learn from the experience. I've always been a very experiential learner/doer.
Obviously most are tied to my roles as I work for U.S. Pipe and Swallow Hill...and I would love for you to look at them and give your feedback!
Visit: http://flickr.com/photos/spunkypr
In this effort, I've set up a Flickr account to showcase some of my best photos.
I've seen and shot LOTS of shows through recent years but these are the cream of the crop...and have a real sentimental connection for me. I'm not a photographer by formal training/trade; I just play with it and learn from the experience. I've always been a very experiential learner/doer.
Obviously most are tied to my roles as I work for U.S. Pipe and Swallow Hill...and I would love for you to look at them and give your feedback!
Visit: http://flickr.com/photos/spunkypr
Monday, November 3, 2008
Recognition feels good...
It's been depressing for I've somewhat let go of handling managerial U.S. Pipe business to concentrate on things that I feel are going to lead me to my own sense of happiness and self-worth.
Today I got word of a writeup we got for Swallow Hill's Swalloween (which was covered in all major Denver newspapers and the Boulder Daily Camera, making me doubly happy), and it reinvigorates me, making me feel as if what I do really does mean something. I am happy to share it with you!
Today I got word of a writeup we got for Swallow Hill's Swalloween (which was covered in all major Denver newspapers and the Boulder Daily Camera, making me doubly happy), and it reinvigorates me, making me feel as if what I do really does mean something. I am happy to share it with you!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
the struggle.
I can't sleep.
I have a splitting headache, a restless mind and a torn heart.
My most treasured ideal, freedom, eludes me.
I empathize with the dolphins that are caught in tuna nets. They're not meant to be captured but they are the sacrifice for the profit of others. I totally feel that concept right now in my life.
I've surrounded myself with the ideal that I could accomplish a great deal...that I could make something big with the people around me...and the disappointment I continually feel on a daily basis has made me feel a captive in my own creation.
Countless hours, days, weeks, months, years...to feel like it's futile.
A struggle...and a struggle still as I try to find grounding for my next steps.
What's the meaning of this life? What's my purpose? Do I even know who I am?
My energy has been poured into something that I'd hope would be a thing of beauty. Instead I feel ugliness: a lack of focus and dedication, a feeling of being used up, having to pick up all the pieces around me for the ultimate benefit of others who don't seem to have any real connection to me and what I do, for them, for us, in the hopes of a dream.
A Dream Deferred
by Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
I have a splitting headache, a restless mind and a torn heart.
My most treasured ideal, freedom, eludes me.
I empathize with the dolphins that are caught in tuna nets. They're not meant to be captured but they are the sacrifice for the profit of others. I totally feel that concept right now in my life.
I've surrounded myself with the ideal that I could accomplish a great deal...that I could make something big with the people around me...and the disappointment I continually feel on a daily basis has made me feel a captive in my own creation.
Countless hours, days, weeks, months, years...to feel like it's futile.
A struggle...and a struggle still as I try to find grounding for my next steps.
What's the meaning of this life? What's my purpose? Do I even know who I am?
My energy has been poured into something that I'd hope would be a thing of beauty. Instead I feel ugliness: a lack of focus and dedication, a feeling of being used up, having to pick up all the pieces around me for the ultimate benefit of others who don't seem to have any real connection to me and what I do, for them, for us, in the hopes of a dream.
A Dream Deferred
by Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Disgust
Maybe it is the Republican National Convention that magnifies my vexation...maybe it's a load of repugnance repression...maybe I'm just full of loathing and have no discipline to lift myself out of that mental state. Or maybe it's a bit of all of it and more. But lately I just feel like DISGUST is all around me.
It's in the air I breathe at my day job. The other day in staff meeting the issue arose again of a smell located in the back of our building. I piped up, "It's always just SMELLY around here. Someplace within this place is always stinky." And it's true, I swear, it's because people won't clean up after themselves and are just pigs and it's stagnant and nasty...ugh...
I have to open the window most times for air. It's the only way to feel any tiny ounce of relief.
I'm tired, I'm cranky, my appetite has been off, I feel like I can't even concentrate or focus correctly on what I need to be doing or how I can change my attitude. I keep trying to change my approach but it's not working.
I can feel something's gonna happen...it's gonna take a minute to get there and in the meantime I'm just in a pit of repulsion. I'm stifled.
It's in the air I breathe at my day job. The other day in staff meeting the issue arose again of a smell located in the back of our building. I piped up, "It's always just SMELLY around here. Someplace within this place is always stinky." And it's true, I swear, it's because people won't clean up after themselves and are just pigs and it's stagnant and nasty...ugh...
I have to open the window most times for air. It's the only way to feel any tiny ounce of relief.
I'm tired, I'm cranky, my appetite has been off, I feel like I can't even concentrate or focus correctly on what I need to be doing or how I can change my attitude. I keep trying to change my approach but it's not working.
I can feel something's gonna happen...it's gonna take a minute to get there and in the meantime I'm just in a pit of repulsion. I'm stifled.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
The DNC aftermath...and beyond... by Spunky (Pipe Blog)
(NOTE: This is my first behind-the-scenes U.S. Pipe blog. Check out the U.S. Pipe blog by visiting http://uspipe.blogspot.com/!)
Hello Pipe fans!
This is my first "official" behind-the-scenes blog and I'm pleased to be getting around to this. My head was in a fog due to all the madness of Denver's hosting of the Democratic National Convention (DNC). U.S. Pipe was proud to take part in some of the festivities, including one private party, the Green Frontier Fest and the Sustainable Living Roadshow. Each of the three had their own special fun. I thought we'd all lose our minds to an extent because the logistics were challenging but we lived through it, learned much and can keep moving forward.
I'd like to thank all the people who gave us these DNC opportunities...while I can't really mention all of them by specific names here, they know who they are and they will all get a more personal thank you from me very, very soon! We are grateful to have been able to perform at these events and promote our music and some great causes, too.
The night Obama gave his acceptance speech was a regularly scheduled practice night. The kids (yes, Citrus--who is my husband for those of you who don't know--and I refer to the band members as the "kids," lol) were given a night off because of this historical moment. Citrus and I watched it together, curious what would unfold. I'll admit I was worried and somewhat anticipating something CRAZY happening, but instead I saw something BEAUTIFUL happening.
Most of the times I'm the cynic Obama wants us to NOT be anymore. I really listen to most politicians and think most of it is pure BS. I have lost faith in my government and those in power, for sure. I can't take them seriously. But Obama really moved me.
I guess what pops out at me, more than anything else about this moment in time, in Obama's speech, is his theme about not doing the right/good thing for others, but FOR YOURSELF. Do it FOR YOURSELF.
This band has presented many challenges since we stumbled into doing it. In June of 2005, my husband Citrus went to audition for a band, but then he became the focus of a new band. I got suckered into web design and press releases and now I help manage the band with Citrus. We sometimes, in all honesty, wonder what we're doing and why, and feel like giving up because it seems like so much for so little reward. We think about this in terms of others but really, we're doing this for ourselves.
It is my hope and dream to see this band, U.S. Pipe, that has weathered so much throughout time and trials, to see some level of success. It's my goal for Citrus to be able to be the awesome musician he is and make a living from his talent. It's also my goal to keep working on my ability to do what I do within this industry: to write, to hype, to connect, to help sustain what it is and deliver music that not only moves but can remove, as the great Dr. Funkenstein would say.
The power of funk and its legacy is lost on some. I am hoping we can revitalize it and take it to another level. That, I suppose, is the ultimate dream. I want there to be a little Citrus, of sorts...as he was at a young age, opening Dr. Funkenstein's album up and thinking that Afronauts and their story was a real deal. It IS a real deal. The funk needs us and we need the funk. Hopefully our funk will get its stank on some new blood and carry on.
Friends, thank you for your support. I see so many familiar faces at our shows and your love helps us to grow. For that I am extremely grateful.
Hope to see you at Herman's Hideaway on September 13. Discount tickets are on an intro page to our site at www.us-pipe.com. Tell your friends!
This is my first "official" behind-the-scenes blog and I'm pleased to be getting around to this. My head was in a fog due to all the madness of Denver's hosting of the Democratic National Convention (DNC). U.S. Pipe was proud to take part in some of the festivities, including one private party, the Green Frontier Fest and the Sustainable Living Roadshow. Each of the three had their own special fun. I thought we'd all lose our minds to an extent because the logistics were challenging but we lived through it, learned much and can keep moving forward.
I'd like to thank all the people who gave us these DNC opportunities...while I can't really mention all of them by specific names here, they know who they are and they will all get a more personal thank you from me very, very soon! We are grateful to have been able to perform at these events and promote our music and some great causes, too.
The night Obama gave his acceptance speech was a regularly scheduled practice night. The kids (yes, Citrus--who is my husband for those of you who don't know--and I refer to the band members as the "kids," lol) were given a night off because of this historical moment. Citrus and I watched it together, curious what would unfold. I'll admit I was worried and somewhat anticipating something CRAZY happening, but instead I saw something BEAUTIFUL happening.
Most of the times I'm the cynic Obama wants us to NOT be anymore. I really listen to most politicians and think most of it is pure BS. I have lost faith in my government and those in power, for sure. I can't take them seriously. But Obama really moved me.
I guess what pops out at me, more than anything else about this moment in time, in Obama's speech, is his theme about not doing the right/good thing for others, but FOR YOURSELF. Do it FOR YOURSELF.
This band has presented many challenges since we stumbled into doing it. In June of 2005, my husband Citrus went to audition for a band, but then he became the focus of a new band. I got suckered into web design and press releases and now I help manage the band with Citrus. We sometimes, in all honesty, wonder what we're doing and why, and feel like giving up because it seems like so much for so little reward. We think about this in terms of others but really, we're doing this for ourselves.
It is my hope and dream to see this band, U.S. Pipe, that has weathered so much throughout time and trials, to see some level of success. It's my goal for Citrus to be able to be the awesome musician he is and make a living from his talent. It's also my goal to keep working on my ability to do what I do within this industry: to write, to hype, to connect, to help sustain what it is and deliver music that not only moves but can remove, as the great Dr. Funkenstein would say.
The power of funk and its legacy is lost on some. I am hoping we can revitalize it and take it to another level. That, I suppose, is the ultimate dream. I want there to be a little Citrus, of sorts...as he was at a young age, opening Dr. Funkenstein's album up and thinking that Afronauts and their story was a real deal. It IS a real deal. The funk needs us and we need the funk. Hopefully our funk will get its stank on some new blood and carry on.
Friends, thank you for your support. I see so many familiar faces at our shows and your love helps us to grow. For that I am extremely grateful.
Hope to see you at Herman's Hideaway on September 13. Discount tickets are on an intro page to our site at www.us-pipe.com. Tell your friends!
Spunky (aka Laura), U.S. Pipe's pimp :)
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
haha...
Today's horoscope:
You may need to watch your energy output now because you could exhaust yourself by trying to do too much too fast. Make sure that unexpressed anger doesn't push you to do something dangerous. Examine your motives before acting foolishly. A little forethought today can save you from some embarrassment tomorrow.
You may need to watch your energy output now because you could exhaust yourself by trying to do too much too fast. Make sure that unexpressed anger doesn't push you to do something dangerous. Examine your motives before acting foolishly. A little forethought today can save you from some embarrassment tomorrow.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Poem 5: Completion
COMPLETION
once i tripped and
fell into your arms (i was
always an emotional klutz) i didn’t
even bother getting back on
my feet i spent
the next five years
blushing always between your
arms in your hands one day i
abruptly woke up and finally
excused myself while trying to
regain my balance i noticed
yours faltering and i realized
you’re not used to not having
anything to hold on to falling
on our faces we learn
to stand tall
copyright 2008, Spunky
once i tripped and
fell into your arms (i was
always an emotional klutz) i didn’t
even bother getting back on
my feet i spent
the next five years
blushing always between your
arms in your hands one day i
abruptly woke up and finally
excused myself while trying to
regain my balance i noticed
yours faltering and i realized
you’re not used to not having
anything to hold on to falling
on our faces we learn
to stand tall
copyright 2008, Spunky
Monday, July 21, 2008
Ain't this the truth?
My daily horoscope today:
Your work activities get in the way of your real purpose today. It's not that you are a bad employee; it's just that right now your mind is not on pleasing your boss. You are ready for a real vacation or, at least, for a quick getaway to take your mind off the same old mundane tasks that prevent you from living out your fantasies.
My mind is DEFINITELY not on pleasing my boss and I am DEFINITELY ready for vacation!
This past Saturday was my b-day. The cover art for my band's album really made for a great one. I'm so happy with how it's turning out. There's still plenty of work to do on many fronts and all of it is stressing me...plus, the fact that my "day" job is just not making me happy and proving to be very frustrating as of late. But I'm going out of town for a long weekend with great relatives, including the hubby and the ever-wonderful dog, so I'm very happy about looking forward to that, and being with people who love me.
Here, here! To a light at the end of the "work" tunnel...
Your work activities get in the way of your real purpose today. It's not that you are a bad employee; it's just that right now your mind is not on pleasing your boss. You are ready for a real vacation or, at least, for a quick getaway to take your mind off the same old mundane tasks that prevent you from living out your fantasies.
My mind is DEFINITELY not on pleasing my boss and I am DEFINITELY ready for vacation!
This past Saturday was my b-day. The cover art for my band's album really made for a great one. I'm so happy with how it's turning out. There's still plenty of work to do on many fronts and all of it is stressing me...plus, the fact that my "day" job is just not making me happy and proving to be very frustrating as of late. But I'm going out of town for a long weekend with great relatives, including the hubby and the ever-wonderful dog, so I'm very happy about looking forward to that, and being with people who love me.
Here, here! To a light at the end of the "work" tunnel...
Friday, July 11, 2008
Poem 4: LOVERS THROUGH THE AGES
LOVERS THROUGH THE AGES
darkness envelops the room:
shrouding,
like the two masses
that converge
(a lesson in electrokinetics).
the temptress has staked her claim
and with a fierce hunger,
she pierces her prey
(he is quick to retaliate).
and off they go,
passionate soulmates,
they have known each other
for an eternity
yet they have just met
(a lesson in the transcendental).
slowly sinking to the ground
as their heat rises
they feed:
giving life,
breathing in the souls of each other
(a lesson in selflessness).
joining together
one being:
they have created their own existence.
copyright 2008, Spunky
darkness envelops the room:
shrouding,
like the two masses
that converge
(a lesson in electrokinetics).
the temptress has staked her claim
and with a fierce hunger,
she pierces her prey
(he is quick to retaliate).
and off they go,
passionate soulmates,
they have known each other
for an eternity
yet they have just met
(a lesson in the transcendental).
slowly sinking to the ground
as their heat rises
they feed:
giving life,
breathing in the souls of each other
(a lesson in selflessness).
joining together
one being:
they have created their own existence.
copyright 2008, Spunky
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
The meaning of life, universe + everything
The Hitchiker's Guide...
probably the best comedic sci-fi book series of all time.
Douglas Adams made fun of the ultimate meaning of life, the universe and everything.
Why do we strive to look for meaning?
I was raised in a fundamentalist Southern Baptist home. Faith was #1. God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit--the trinity and your faith in it, with Jesus' cleansing blood--was what you needed to be safe from firey hell.
The afterlife is where it's at.
I've struggled, in a sense, all my life with the meaning of life. I guess we all do on any number of levels, depending. Some people give up faith completely. The world is a shithole and they're resigned to it, or just do themselves in. For some, it's all there is. I know where I was raised, the uncomfortable destitution and poverty probably made for the society that revolved around church and that sense of community, and a sense that, after this shit, there's GOT to be something better.
I don't blame either one, really. I just teeter in the middle.
I tried to figure it out...went through all kinds of searching through all kinds of religions, lifestyles, philosophies. I've taken them on and off like jeans in a mall, when you're trying to find the right fit...too highwater, too baggy, too tight, too long.
Today was a hard day for my husband. He has a big show on a big day: 8/8/08. Triple 8 means triple abundance in Chinese numerology, so it's probably got them all hot having the Olympics start in Beijing on that date. Two of his important fellow musicians had to back out of this gig so they cancelled on him today. It sucks ass. I had to look up whatever meaning people may have for that date because I was certain of a hex, LOL.
But it's supposed to be an OPTIMUM time. This is the best day for this gig, in a sense, if you believe numerologists. I even found some people out there saying that, while 666 is the DEVIL, 888 is JESUS. Jesus is good, right?
The numerology stuff was pretty mind-boggling. I'd read about it before and calculated things and did all that before in my New Age phase of life (circa early 20s), but it's been a while. I got curious about it all over again and started calculating my and my husband's birthdates for our life path numbers and found something really weird.
Both our birthdates added up to the life path number 4.
Apparently people under that number are worker bees with an honest, hardworking ethical way about them. Damn, don't I know we work our asses off!
But then, I realized. Two fours make 8.
And that was really weird.
I got caught up in it to calculate my destiny based on my birth name. I'm a six which means my purpose is to be a humanitarian, to help people whenever and wherever possible, and to be creative and make art that means something.
I hope one day I can feel I'm living up to that.
Then I caught myself in where I was going, starting to want to obsess more over it. Made me think of the silliness of what I was doing, you know? Like, I'm not really a skeptical disbeliever but I'm not gullible into believing everything. I don't believe in everything or one thing or nothing. I don't know if I can have the ability to understand the meaning of life, if there is one. I don't think I'm that qualified. I'm a human animal with a pea brain compared to the largeness, the vastness of this universe. Who the hell knows what's up?
Still, I guess the point is the fun in the questions themselves and debating them. That's really all we have so we may as well revel in it, if we at all can.
probably the best comedic sci-fi book series of all time.
Douglas Adams made fun of the ultimate meaning of life, the universe and everything.
Why do we strive to look for meaning?
I was raised in a fundamentalist Southern Baptist home. Faith was #1. God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit--the trinity and your faith in it, with Jesus' cleansing blood--was what you needed to be safe from firey hell.
The afterlife is where it's at.
I've struggled, in a sense, all my life with the meaning of life. I guess we all do on any number of levels, depending. Some people give up faith completely. The world is a shithole and they're resigned to it, or just do themselves in. For some, it's all there is. I know where I was raised, the uncomfortable destitution and poverty probably made for the society that revolved around church and that sense of community, and a sense that, after this shit, there's GOT to be something better.
I don't blame either one, really. I just teeter in the middle.
I tried to figure it out...went through all kinds of searching through all kinds of religions, lifestyles, philosophies. I've taken them on and off like jeans in a mall, when you're trying to find the right fit...too highwater, too baggy, too tight, too long.
Today was a hard day for my husband. He has a big show on a big day: 8/8/08. Triple 8 means triple abundance in Chinese numerology, so it's probably got them all hot having the Olympics start in Beijing on that date. Two of his important fellow musicians had to back out of this gig so they cancelled on him today. It sucks ass. I had to look up whatever meaning people may have for that date because I was certain of a hex, LOL.
But it's supposed to be an OPTIMUM time. This is the best day for this gig, in a sense, if you believe numerologists. I even found some people out there saying that, while 666 is the DEVIL, 888 is JESUS. Jesus is good, right?
The numerology stuff was pretty mind-boggling. I'd read about it before and calculated things and did all that before in my New Age phase of life (circa early 20s), but it's been a while. I got curious about it all over again and started calculating my and my husband's birthdates for our life path numbers and found something really weird.
Both our birthdates added up to the life path number 4.
Apparently people under that number are worker bees with an honest, hardworking ethical way about them. Damn, don't I know we work our asses off!
But then, I realized. Two fours make 8.
And that was really weird.
I got caught up in it to calculate my destiny based on my birth name. I'm a six which means my purpose is to be a humanitarian, to help people whenever and wherever possible, and to be creative and make art that means something.
I hope one day I can feel I'm living up to that.
Then I caught myself in where I was going, starting to want to obsess more over it. Made me think of the silliness of what I was doing, you know? Like, I'm not really a skeptical disbeliever but I'm not gullible into believing everything. I don't believe in everything or one thing or nothing. I don't know if I can have the ability to understand the meaning of life, if there is one. I don't think I'm that qualified. I'm a human animal with a pea brain compared to the largeness, the vastness of this universe. Who the hell knows what's up?
Still, I guess the point is the fun in the questions themselves and debating them. That's really all we have so we may as well revel in it, if we at all can.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
spontaneous expulsion of a human fetus
My sister-in-law had a DNC yesterday morning.
My brother had called several weeks ago but we never connected, about the good news...
Well, the good news is now bad news.
Apparently when she went in for a checkup they discovered that there was a probelm with her pregnancy.
And thus, since it was obvious to the health professionals that she would not be able to successfully carry the pregnancy to term, they scraped her uterus free of it.
It's just weird, you know, because I was raised VERY religiously. Fundamentalist, Jerry Falwell-and-Jim Baker-watching Baptists in the heart of white trash KY. Every day was another walk with Jesus. Being gay and having abortions are the worst sins ever.
My brother is perfect to people: he's a Southern Baptist preacher boy. My mother's favorite, somewhat a coddler of him...he could never do wrong.
Me--I'm the black sheep, of course. I don't even connect with my family much about my life. It's like we're foreigners to each other, most times, and if we try to delve deep with each other it only ends up badly, really.
So to hear "DNC" come out of my brother's mouth--kinda surreal. Kinda unreal. Kinda like, really? You're ok with that? Is God mad at you or is it ok?
I called my sister to let her know. She couldn't grasp it at all. She distrusts doctors, medicine. A lot of it is rooted in our being poor folk and not having the best care, or negligent caretakers, particularly for my grandmothers, one of whom died in a terrible nursing whom and the other, who was a paranoid schizophrenic with whom her doctor seemed to treat as a guinea pig with medication, only to die from heart issues in a hospital, which my sister deemed did her in, not that she was really old and ready or anything.
I'm sure she, my sister, has more issues with this than my brother and his wife. She'll probably take it harder for a longer period of time. And that's also just the way she is, not just the circumstance and the fact that it was, hey, an abortion.
I am sad for them. I am sad I lost a neice/nephew. I wonder how they justify this with their current dogma structure, though. It's weird. I mourn for what could have been. Life is life. Pregnancies don't always work out. Life doesn't always win.
My brother had called several weeks ago but we never connected, about the good news...
Well, the good news is now bad news.
Apparently when she went in for a checkup they discovered that there was a probelm with her pregnancy.
And thus, since it was obvious to the health professionals that she would not be able to successfully carry the pregnancy to term, they scraped her uterus free of it.
It's just weird, you know, because I was raised VERY religiously. Fundamentalist, Jerry Falwell-and-Jim Baker-watching Baptists in the heart of white trash KY. Every day was another walk with Jesus. Being gay and having abortions are the worst sins ever.
My brother is perfect to people: he's a Southern Baptist preacher boy. My mother's favorite, somewhat a coddler of him...he could never do wrong.
Me--I'm the black sheep, of course. I don't even connect with my family much about my life. It's like we're foreigners to each other, most times, and if we try to delve deep with each other it only ends up badly, really.
So to hear "DNC" come out of my brother's mouth--kinda surreal. Kinda unreal. Kinda like, really? You're ok with that? Is God mad at you or is it ok?
I called my sister to let her know. She couldn't grasp it at all. She distrusts doctors, medicine. A lot of it is rooted in our being poor folk and not having the best care, or negligent caretakers, particularly for my grandmothers, one of whom died in a terrible nursing whom and the other, who was a paranoid schizophrenic with whom her doctor seemed to treat as a guinea pig with medication, only to die from heart issues in a hospital, which my sister deemed did her in, not that she was really old and ready or anything.
I'm sure she, my sister, has more issues with this than my brother and his wife. She'll probably take it harder for a longer period of time. And that's also just the way she is, not just the circumstance and the fact that it was, hey, an abortion.
I am sad for them. I am sad I lost a neice/nephew. I wonder how they justify this with their current dogma structure, though. It's weird. I mourn for what could have been. Life is life. Pregnancies don't always work out. Life doesn't always win.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Poem 3: FRUIT SALAD
FRUIT SALAD
ripe juicy oranges droop from the branches of strong trees
ready-to-peel bananas float down a lazy river
all the while plump green and purple grapes
dance in the air
to the tune of a music box
turned by a playful elephant
i walk around in this happy scene,
glad that i have friends that are so
ready to please me with their service
red shiny apples randomly scattered
around the freshly cut grass of a well-manicured lawn
and i pick them up
one by one
i bite into the crisp texture of one
only to find that i no longer have teeth
for an orange, plummeting to the ground,
has knocked them out
i turn to see the river of bananas rising
pretty soon the grapes begin hurling themselves to the ground
like their fruity orange counterparts
the apples roll in my direction at a furious pace
and now the flood of bananas joins in
i am being buried alive in a fruit salad
i look to the musical elephant, my long-time friend, for help
only to find his once-friendly grin
has turned to sinister proportions
and he is laughing at my poor predicament
i gasp for air, for some kind of line
that may get me out of this, but there is none
the fruit has completely covered me
and i can no longer hear the music
copyright 2008, Spunky
ripe juicy oranges droop from the branches of strong trees
ready-to-peel bananas float down a lazy river
all the while plump green and purple grapes
dance in the air
to the tune of a music box
turned by a playful elephant
i walk around in this happy scene,
glad that i have friends that are so
ready to please me with their service
red shiny apples randomly scattered
around the freshly cut grass of a well-manicured lawn
and i pick them up
one by one
i bite into the crisp texture of one
only to find that i no longer have teeth
for an orange, plummeting to the ground,
has knocked them out
i turn to see the river of bananas rising
pretty soon the grapes begin hurling themselves to the ground
like their fruity orange counterparts
the apples roll in my direction at a furious pace
and now the flood of bananas joins in
i am being buried alive in a fruit salad
i look to the musical elephant, my long-time friend, for help
only to find his once-friendly grin
has turned to sinister proportions
and he is laughing at my poor predicament
i gasp for air, for some kind of line
that may get me out of this, but there is none
the fruit has completely covered me
and i can no longer hear the music
copyright 2008, Spunky
Monday, June 9, 2008
Poem 2: DEVOTION
DEVOTION
the room in disarray.
i stand there,
cornered by a mad man
wearing a wicked goatee;
his long hair is cascading
in a ripple of
unwashed coils and strands;
his dancing, psychotic eyes
scanning the length of my
shaking body, frail as a
leaf. he holds his knife
with ease
in a hand with a wrist
covered with pulsating,
bruised veins,
and speaks to me
in a gruff voice, vowing
his eternal love.
trying to make me swoon.
who does he think he is.
i think this with courage,
but with cowardly actions i
accept him and he takes me
(i see no harm in this)
he takes me
(he knows everything,
i hold no secrets from him)
he takes me
by my mind and makes violent
rape with it.
he tears up my linens
and makes me want to burn my bed
yet he is so appealing;
i am horrified and
mystified
all at once.
he tells me i belong to him.
i feel as one with him.
your violence is my pleasure,
i tell him.
he just laughs.
meanwhile i am relaxed
he takes me once more
only this time it's physically.
i think i love him.
copyright 2008, Spunky
the room in disarray.
i stand there,
cornered by a mad man
wearing a wicked goatee;
his long hair is cascading
in a ripple of
unwashed coils and strands;
his dancing, psychotic eyes
scanning the length of my
shaking body, frail as a
leaf. he holds his knife
with ease
in a hand with a wrist
covered with pulsating,
bruised veins,
and speaks to me
in a gruff voice, vowing
his eternal love.
trying to make me swoon.
who does he think he is.
i think this with courage,
but with cowardly actions i
accept him and he takes me
(i see no harm in this)
he takes me
(he knows everything,
i hold no secrets from him)
he takes me
by my mind and makes violent
rape with it.
he tears up my linens
and makes me want to burn my bed
yet he is so appealing;
i am horrified and
mystified
all at once.
he tells me i belong to him.
i feel as one with him.
your violence is my pleasure,
i tell him.
he just laughs.
meanwhile i am relaxed
he takes me once more
only this time it's physically.
i think i love him.
copyright 2008, Spunky
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Poem 1: i'm too crazy to be a buddhist
i'm too crazy to be a buddhist
my mommy always told me
jesus saved us all
i laugh at that notion
because no man will ever
save me besides what
is there to save
last night i had a dream
i was at a carnival and there
were lots of elephants and when i
saw all the hindus i realized
the elephants were asian and i
thought of how most people can't
distinguish asian elephants from
african ones so that must be
why they weren't racially
discriminated against
and then i saw you you
were with the hindus and you wore
lots of gold jewelry you almost
shone you could have
been a god perhaps
you were there to save me
excuse me but are
you my jesus
you looked at me with big
doe eyes your long lovely lashes
blinking i felt as though i
were under hypnosis
i blacked out from the beauty
of my savior's eyes
i awoke in a grand
ballroom it was
shining with gold chandeliers that
reminded me of your jeweled godness
when my eyes fully
focused i saw a brigade of
cleaning ladies fully equipped
with feather dusters a man
in a red uniform stood right
in front of me with a curious
smirk on his face when he
dropped his pants i realized
he had no cock but a beautiful
pussy and when he sat on
my lap i realized i was the one
with a huge dick
fucking him i realized i
was his jesus with every
stroke i was saving him
i awoke with an unusually
high degree of dampness between
my legs and a burning
need to save you
copyright 2008, Spunky
my mommy always told me
jesus saved us all
i laugh at that notion
because no man will ever
save me besides what
is there to save
last night i had a dream
i was at a carnival and there
were lots of elephants and when i
saw all the hindus i realized
the elephants were asian and i
thought of how most people can't
distinguish asian elephants from
african ones so that must be
why they weren't racially
discriminated against
and then i saw you you
were with the hindus and you wore
lots of gold jewelry you almost
shone you could have
been a god perhaps
you were there to save me
excuse me but are
you my jesus
you looked at me with big
doe eyes your long lovely lashes
blinking i felt as though i
were under hypnosis
i blacked out from the beauty
of my savior's eyes
i awoke in a grand
ballroom it was
shining with gold chandeliers that
reminded me of your jeweled godness
when my eyes fully
focused i saw a brigade of
cleaning ladies fully equipped
with feather dusters a man
in a red uniform stood right
in front of me with a curious
smirk on his face when he
dropped his pants i realized
he had no cock but a beautiful
pussy and when he sat on
my lap i realized i was the one
with a huge dick
fucking him i realized i
was his jesus with every
stroke i was saving him
i awoke with an unusually
high degree of dampness between
my legs and a burning
need to save you
copyright 2008, Spunky
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
