Entry: Las Vegas

Entry: Las Vegas

(lôs vāɡ’əs)
Of Overpopulated English. Geonoun.


1. A much-too-expensive electric bill.

1(a). A much-too-expensive everything bill.

2. Prime escapist masking of unhappiness, rejection, and self-loathing.

3. A buffet table of the world’s best buffet tables.

4. The inspiration to introverted solitude upon departure.

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Alone.

When you
are alone,
the world’s left you
behind, don’t you fight me.
Lonely

ain’t kind.
You’ve got your
freedom you want
to hold on to. Don’t you
know… don’t

you know
someone should
hold on to you?
Hold on to you… Hold on
to you.

I can’t
see what’s been
keeping you from
me. You got kicked around,
found a

lonely
sound. Darling,
Please pick yourself
up off the ground, so I
can hold

on to
you, hold on
to you, hold on
to you, darling, when you’re
Alone.

Lyrics by B. Wolff,
Arrangement by B. Rider

10 Things That Could Crescendo Forever

It’s the simple things that keep this life pleasant – like a musical crescendo to satisfaction. If these things were looped to crescendo forever, I’d have zero complaints.

Screen Shot 2017-09-08 at 3.58.08 PM.png1. Hearing a song I used to love and completely forgot about. Recently: “Fernando,” by ABBA. I then fell down a rabbit hole which revealed that Benny Andersson is still putting out music! If all my favorite artists could just suddenly resurrect ten years from now, I’d be okay with it. “If I had to do the same again, I would, my friend.”

2. The sound of a baseball smacking a bat. Not the other way around, and whether it’s destined to be a home run or not. Yes, there’s a degree of nostalgia, probably, but still.

3. Seeing someone walking alone randomly smile at their phone. I’ve done this while alone in public, and there’s something about that feeling of being unable to hold in that smile because I don’t want to look like a loony. Pure pleasure. I’d wish that particular smile on anybody.

4. Wildflowers across the fields of Texas when spring arrives. Likewise, the first really wintery day of the year. Just bring me some very grassy daisies and buy me a new coat, and I’ll love you forever.

5. Hearing that my friends landed a desirable gig. Even better: hearing that my favesies band from another state landed a desirable gig in my town and I finally get to see them play live. AND they’re sharing a bill with more friends of mine. To make this paragraph even longer: finding new music, stumbling across a new band, and then finding out that they’re going to be in my town later that month, is the best in the world. Totes meant to be.

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6. Getting to visit little-known vinyl/book stores. Maybe it’s the things I’ve filled my newsfeeds with… but hearing about such great, semi-invisible indie book and music stores and then finally getting to visit them in real life is the literal best.

7. Late-night showings at off-the-beaten-path movie theaters. It’s like I get the whooooole couch AND the remote to myself. Even better if I’m lucky enough to score a long-distance movie buddy and our cities are showing the same thing at the same time. Group text has never been more fun.

8. Turning a corner and being faced with something I didn’t realize I was going to get to see that day. Like stepping into a new room at a museum and being smacked in the face with a work by my favesies artist. Or, waking up in a new city and realizing that you’re literally across the street from the best music school in America. And then, being unable to move.

9. Coming home to a clean house after a trip. Even if I have to stay up late the night before a flight, cleaning my house so I can come back to a clean space is one-hundred-percent worth it.

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10. Eating dessert out of a stemmed wine glass. Here’s my life hack gift to you: Bake something that’s yummy when it’s warm (brownies, cupcakes, muffins, cookies, basically everything (realized that after I opened that parenthetical comment)). Scoop a few forkfuls of your warm yummy into a wine glass, or champagne flute, if you’re real fancy. Scoop some ice cream on top of that. If you’re so inclined, pour a little wine over your fruity yummy, or a little Scotch over your chocolate yummy. It’s basically like getting away with ALL the things… and SO yummy.

09.06.17

And on Wednesdays with dates containing strobogrammatic numbers, we write.

While out with a friend of mine this past holiday, the topic of blogging came up within conversation. Though our shared brunch proved to be a worthy distraction, I came to a realization that is about to change one of my oldest defining characteristics as a person. Some years ago, I began blogging for several reasons, some reasons a mere variation of others… Today marks the first day that I choose to say that I blog for very different reasons than the ones that originally set me down this path.

Perhaps the most cliché blogging excuse is my oldest one (naturally). As a one-and-twenty female who had been through more than her share of learning experiences, I felt driven to see if journaling was as therapeutic as therapists say. It’s my fear and anticipation of disruption and confrontation that keeps me from being the strong communicator that I once was; when I first began to write, I basked in the idea of being able to spit anonymously, having control over who could be affected by the things that I thought. Waverly At Dawn has since become a little less anonymous (don’t worry, entries have been changed to protect the innocent), but I’m not so desperate to “spit” as often.

As a self-proclaimed non-writer, I also wondered if I could actually write. While in grade school, I discovered quite the disdain for creative writing assignments – not because I didn’t want to write, but because I could never figure out what to write about. In another sense, as a musician with some extremely talented songwriters as role models, I have zero confidence in my lyricism, and for the same reason. I not only never know what to write about, but I also have the worst of times trying to put any thought into the right combination of words (unless there’s rules, like the fun ones that helped me write Repeat.). I’ve since learned that this is something that exactly 100% of the other writers in this world struggle with, at least once. So much for THAT excuse.

While running around as a newly active member within the arts community in the city in which I was living, I began to recognize the impact that a good write-up can have on an artist’s renown and potential opportunities. I am an INTJ with a personality profile of a “Companion,” and I am most fulfilled when I find myself in a position to help somebody else reach their goals. This passion was almost immediately manifested into my sister blog, a bookish blog that I use to help authors market their writing (ironically enough). I am also currently working on my inaugural music review entry for my new arts review blog – stay tuned for that one. If I haven’t been one for opinionating, I’ve been forced to move closer to it.

All this to say, I no longer can honestly state, “I can’t write, I’m no good with words,” like I’m so used to saying. Writing is therapeutic, and writer’s block is a real thing. But, I can write. I know some great words, and I like to use them. I am a writer.

A mere personal challenge born from a desire to change a state of being is all it takes to inspire kinetic movement.

writer

Entry: city limits

Entry: city limits

(sit’ē lim’itz)
Of Outed English. Geonoun.


1. The physical point beyond which all responsibility fades into the cloud of smog behind you.

2. A favorite party house for remote, incandescent balls of gas similar in nature to the sun.

3. A motivating force behind music blastation.

Repeat.

Repeat.
Closing in,
you overcome,
ushering in your storm.
Thunder,

sometimes
I think back
on our midnight
broods, looking for metered
feeling

to prove
synchronized,
when my own rough
existence hinted at
no storm’s

eye near.
Promises
of denouement
laugh at my outcry, as
never

a still
to be had…
My own trouble
is this, riparian,
alone,

hidden
in confines,
not to be blamed.
You are my petrichor;
I breathe

in you
and your peace –
panacea,
just for a time, until
Repeat.

8 Things To Do On Eclipse Day

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  1. Begin your morning with eclipse sweeties, and drink your coffee from a mug depicting a near-eclipse.
  2. Wear tennis shoes, in case the eclipse turns out to be an alien attack, and the Doctor urges you to RUN.
  3. Ponder the word, “eclipse,” so as to perhaps discover your inner poet by suddenly penning an eclectic eclogue about eclairs.
  4. De-stress by giving into your perpetuating earworm by ending every sentence with, “… total eclipse of the heart.”
  5. Wonder if poking a hole into a piece of cardboard to see the effect on shadow during an eclipse actually works total eclipse of the heart.
  6. Catch yourself fifty times before mentally concurring that “eclipticals” are for leg workouts, and THEN learn that “ecliptical” is actually a real word. Well, a real Urban Dictionary word.
  7. Appreciate the precision that is the Creation of our universe to not lurch idly about, spurring reality of your favorite dystopian sci-fi which may or may not include multiple angry and lingering eclipses.
  8. Go out and enjoy the eclipse, for it shan’t happen all too often, though the rain, it raineth every day.

 

08.01.17

So that’s it, then. I’ve reached the block of having nothing to write about, and thus, am writing about it. Funny how that works.

Here’s August, complete with her 98-degree weather and looming haunts of the impending close of baseball season. Yesterday, Austin saw 97-degree weather, and while that’s still unthinkable to some parts of the country, it’s a breath of not-as-hot air to Central Texas, where Cool Weather likes to book the latest flight in. I’m taking that as a win, after the Mariners beat the Yankees, Red Sox, Mets, and Rangers within the last week or so – I’m not sure when the Mariners were last standing second in their division, but I sure like seeing them listed above the Angels. #Approved.

This past weekend also saw the announcement of a new little boy into ma famille, one “Pierce.” If 98 degrees in August wasn’t Texas-y enough for you, a paintball shoot to announce a baby’s gender certainly should be. Get back to me if you find that you still need more Texas in your life.

As far as the Waverly, well, the pattern continues. My dives into Goya’s art are proving to reveal riptides into “East Village Art,” namely, Jean-Michel Basquiat; Basquiat has only just surpassed Andy Warhol as the most expensive American artist, though only having lived to be 27 years old, and I’m sure you’ll soon be reading about some nugget that I’ve found.

Unrelatedly, folk music will again be on my musical résumé soon, and who knows where that will lead me in the Live Music Capital of the World… I’ll be happy with just a few of my favorite wooden stages. While looking for essays by a recently discovered Norwegian author, I’ve connected with some great book promoters that will fuel my sister blog with more ways to support authors. One exploration leads to the challenge of the next one, new blessings and new interests rear every day. It’s the settling that settles, quite literally, as we remember to import what matters and file away what doesn’t.

“Simplicity is the final achievement, the crowning reward of art.”   – Frederic Chopin

Without Jury, But With Cupcake

DT1922Last week marked Edgar Degas’ 183rd birthday, and if any reason exists to treat oneself to a gourmet cupcake from a local bakery, it is to solitarily celebrate the birth of a hero (which may or may not have been exactly what I did). Degas was a founding member of the Société Anonyme des Artistes, or the Society of Independent Artists. It was this group that launched exhibitions apart from the traditional, elitist Salons of the day, and the Society later came to be known as the “Impressionists.”

While in Boston this past April, I got to see my very first Degas, The Rehearsal, at the Harvard Art Museum. As I turned the corner into my first gallery just past the café, there it was, hanging directly across from the doorway. I knew him immediately,  with his arms outstretched toward me for a Texas-sized hug, and seemingly wishing, “Bon voyage,” as I was preparing to cross the pond for the first big solo adventure of my twenties.

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Edgar Degas, The Rehearsal. c. 1873-1878. Harvard Art Museum, Boston, MA.

A few days later, I passed an hour in a corner of the London National Gallery surrounded by half a dozen more of Degas’ paintings. Having made plans for Brighton later that week, it was difficult to keep myself from going all the way into France… but there would’ve been no returning.

Degas and his friends knew how to #lovealocal. They “blurred the lines” between art for recognition and art for art’s sake. In adapting and operating under the slogan, “Without Jury nor Reward,” Degas and the Society showed that it’s okay to claim independence in your art, and not succumb to opinions of a jury specifically for their reward. 

Happy birthday, mon chevalier.

“Art is the desire of a man to express himself.”
– Edgar Degas

Twelve Months’ Adventures

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Today marks exactly one year since the start of my first big excursion: road-tripping up the California and Oregon coastlines to Seattle, the oldest city on my bucket list. In the twelve months since then, I’ve found ways to achieve so many of my personal goals that it’s almost hard to really understand why anybody would let their dreams go unrealized.

Your only excuse for not achieving your goals or fulfilling your dreams is exactly that – an excuse. If you really want to do it, then make it happen, do whatever it takes, set a specific timeline for yourself and don’t let anything or anyone stand in your way.

July 2016: Road-tripped up the West Coast from California through Portland to Seattle

August 2016: Solo-camped Big Sur

September 2016: Road-tripped from California to Texas via Las Vegas run-ins, the Grand Canyon, and Route 66

January 2017: Saw musicals on Broadway via Grand Central Station before pie in Brooklyn

April 2017: Ran around New England for libraries in Boston and lobster rolls in South Maine

May 2017: Solo-backpacked the United Kingdom for sights across the North Sea, the English Channel, the British countryside, and, best yet, the Doctor’s tenth regeneration in the flesh (swoon!)

July 2017: Road-tripped from Texas to baseball in Florida via watermelon on an Alabama church lawn and beignets in the French Quarter

Twelve cheers to what the next twelve months have in store! Do something for yourself.