Out on the Town

Boppity Bear Photobooth

Boppity Bear had an excellent day out yesterday. He made many new friends (and some detractors), got The Liz O Show a potential gig in Berkeley (he is, after all, Band Manager), and was sat upon, felt up, and squealed at countless times throughout the evening. I will say much more about last night's excellent Trickster Salon, and the upcoming exciting projects of the Enterprises, in a future post, but for now here is a sampling of Boppity Bear's adventures...

Ben Gets a Sound Healing!

The much anticipated season two premiere of Bingeing with the Buddha! Poor Ben.

Life in the Loveshack

My plan for my grand return to San Francisco was to nail the art gallery job, get immediately set up with a cushy 9-5 (10-7), with benefits, insurance, paid holiday, and salary, immediately thereafter get a nice studio apartment in a sweet part of town, and commence my classy adult life, safe and secure and with plenty of money to pursue all my art and music interests.... that is, if I ever found the time.

But since the Universe loves me dearly, none of this fell into place. I did indeed get a job; housekeeping, again, at the Adelaide. The benefits include free clothes, food, and toiletries that people leave behind, and today I got 18 cents, pants, a shirt that says Hawaii on it, and a BEAR TOWEL. Who needs insurance when you have a towel with a happy cartoon bear on it? Not me. And finally, I have a place to live. Well, two. One is a bunk in the Adelaide, not Golden Gate, but, Alcatraz 8. But the other place I like far better, and that is the storage closet on the roof of the Dakota where Luke has been sleeping for the past month.

Now, I know what you're imagining, and it's probably the same image I had when he told me about it over the phone. But this is really not your usual hotel rooftop storage closet that we are living in. He's really done wonders with the place. There is a table, and a set of drawers, and all sorts of nooks and crannies to prop and hang things- he's got paintings nailed up, a guitar on the wall, skeletons and now my bear amulet hanging from the rafters, Christmas lights, a radio, drum, drawing supplies... and lots of blankets layered on the floor, where there is just enough space between the brick wall and the metal circulation vent for two people to fit- after a half hour of strategizing and negotiation of body positioning.

Luke gave up and actually opted to let me have the entire space last night while he slept outside on the actual roof. I feel a lot worse about this in retrospect than I did as I was happily snuggling up under the brand new pink comforter he found, the Christmas lights twinkling and the fog rolling in and the sounds of the city way down below.

It really is like a magical little rustic cabin, removed but in the center of urban life. At sunrise the other morning a crow flew up and perched outside the door, cawing to us. Luke said it came back later when he was playing guitar and listened to his repertoire. Yesterday we both had the day off, and I didn't end up coming down from the roof until about 10pm.

 

Luke brought up brunch and coffee, and we played guitar, and then we had a visit from Jen and Cinnamon (cutest dog in the world), who finished off our breakfast as well as part of Luke's shoe, and soon it turned into an art party which lasted until sunset...

I made a jester pastel drawing which is now hanging in the love-shack. We played more guitar, and planned out the music video for Sweet Tangerine that we are soon to start shooting with Scotty, the manager of the hotel across the way.

Scotty is a wild character, as you can imagine; he shoots animated, surreal sort of films, and the deck outside of his office at the Emperor Norton is always covered with things like plastic bouncy balls and feather headdresses and a gigantic zebra effigy, which looks creepy amidst the steam from the laundromat below blowing upwards late at night.

Return to the West!

I am back in San Francisco! Hooray! The plane flying in over the Bay and touching down during the sunset was such a surreal and happy experience. I had a job interview on Friday and spent yesterday promenading around Nob Hill, in the sunny windiness overlooking the ocean, walked down to North Beach where they were having an Italian festival and selling paninis and jester masks. I don't know what to say except that I am so psyched to be back and hope it will be an amazing era full of even more music and art and fun, with a steady job to ground it all!

Included are pictures of the city and T-Rexes stalking through Logan Airport. I am off to further explore the city with a coyote. This week I have job interviews, open mike nights, and recording at the School of Audio Engineering. Can't wait!

Love, The Wanderess

Erratic Chant

The other night Betsy and Wetsy filmed the season premiere of Bingeing with the Buddha, a double episode complete with Ben's sound healing and a round of Erratic Chant. We had an especially good time creating our costumes and "set," which yielded this picture, which is pretty much how I want my life to look always, all the time. Just putting that out there. Ok. I am caffeinated. Check out all my sites. Bye!

Hurricane Irene

I have not been nearly so terrified of Hurricane Irene so much as the mass social media hysteria and sensationalism it so easily evoked. Seriously.... there are no words. I don't get it. What's happening? Besides some rain and wind. People seem to really, really like a good reason to have a big collective freak-out. And say the same sorts of things over and over again. And like the posts that other people are saying that say the same thing on facebook. Anyhoo....

This was Bingeing with the Buddha's response. We are gearing up for our second season, with the episode chronicling Ben Schikowitz's sound healing on its way! Here is our Extreme Weather Update:

You can see more on the youtube site and if you are hungry for more insanity, go straight to the source at www.boppitybear.com! The website is under construction so keep coming back for more!

Love ya, peace out. I refuse to tell you to "stay safe in the hurricane." Um, you know that already. That's what the natural response is during a hurricane. Oh, belligerence! Bye!

The Web

Well, here I am at Omega! I certainly feel in the cosmic flow of things, considering that last week my job was to assist at a children's rock and roll camp, the first time they had ever pioneered the workshop at Omega. I spent the five days thinking about nothing but music and band-leading and performance, and it was so rewarding to help some of the kids learn their first guitar chords and get inspiration for songwriting in some of the very places on campus where I've written many of my own songs.

There were more synchronicities afoot; one of the camper's names was Persephone (although she dropped out- what does that mean?!), and also, in the process I met a great new friend named Alexandra who has a very parallel music situation as me going on in New York. We had met on Sunday doing housekeeping, and talked incessantly about our bands and albums and life goals, and when we flipped through the catalogue to see what workshops were taking place that week, flipped out in excitement to see that there was a rock and roll camp. Through powers of manifestation and determination we became the two workshop assistants- even though we got some moderately patronizing reactions seeing as we're both female. Anyhoo- it was a great week and it was really cool to make a friend who- like me- is constantly dreaming up her future, and taking that process very seriously.

I'm definitely constantly in the world of The Liz O Show and Boppity Bear, and planning up the next phase of Happenings. Over the next two months, Betsy and Wetsy are moving in at the Oehlschlaeger residence to build the Boppity Bear Empire and shoot Bingeing with the Buddha Season 2, and Betsy has been hired as my Assistant Creative Director and Administrator, which means she will help me in organization of creative projects, and sending out the Kickstarter rewards. I'll also be working on visuals for the album, so that when I return to San Fran the only thing left to do will just be to finish recording and mixing. Hooray!

Any of you who are familiar with my world of inside jokes will know that it is extremely ironic for Betsy and I to be moving in together, since the whole idea is that we are nine year old twin sisters, and Wetsy is extremely spoiled and overstimulated and excitable, while Betsy is brooding and rational and is whatever the opposite of spoiled is; she has to take care of Wetsy in addition to doing all the household chores.

How Auspicious!

 

Home again, Home again

Jiggety-jig! 

Arriving at home was a wonderful relief. I couldn't believe all the STUFF I had in my room since I had gotten used to a year of being broke and vagabondy and excited about things like free Pringles and buying a new pair of pajama pants. So I spent an entire day redecorating and re-enacting some of the altars full of icons and tarot cards I had had before, and soon it felt like magic was flowing, and I played my guitar Gloria and drove in my car Adelaide and walked in the grass and enjoyed the sights and sounds of summer in the countryside.


And my parents and I did our traditional morning breakfast at the Pancake House with the surly waitress, and afterwards went over to the Henniker toy store, where I bought TWO rubber snakes (Felix the Third, and his dark, sultry cobra girlfriend, Felicia). Then we went and hung out at our storage bin, another Oehlschlaeger Family favorite past-time. Since then I've been playing music, reconnecting with old friends, growing the snakes in the bathtub, and getting ready for Omega, my favorite place in the world!

I will certainly be updating you soon with adventures from the Magical Forest, and episodes from the second season of Bingeing with the Buddha.

And as for the cd, the latest mix of The Train Song is on its way, soon to be followed by The Bird in Norwegian Wood! At that point, the plan as it stands is to package up a five song EP. Not the final result of this project, just a little something something to hold you over. If you were part of the Kickstarter campaign, you'll be receiving one : )

But I will have more updates on all of that in two weeks when I am back from the Magical Forest. For now I'm taking a little break from all the planning and analyzing where The Liz O Show is concerned, and freeing myself to frolic and gallavant and get shamanically healed and take empowering walks around the lake at sunset with my bestest of friends and shoot silly videos and terrorize yogis with rubber snakes.

All in a day's work for Boppity Bear Enterprises!

Hope you are having an excellent summer and magic along your journey...

Love,
Liz O

Some tips I learned on my trip eastward from San Francisco...

1) Never take United Airlines. Or US Airways. Which are apparently the same thing and both equally horrible. I'm used to walking pretty much straight up to the ticket counter, so I was cutting it close when I arrived about an hour and ten minutes early for my flight on Monday morning. The airport was pretty calm in general, but suddenly, out of nowhere, it was like a solid quarter mile of bedlam throughout the entire United Airlines area. Nobody could tell where lines began or ended; there were just five lanes of crying babies and suitcases and stressed out travelers yelling back and forth with snappy flight attendants. I was similarly belligerent from the second I stepped into line. I knew for sure I was going to miss my flight but I felt absolutely unapologetic about it, considering the circumstances. Even when one of the snappy flight attendants let me duck under the rope and cut an entire lane of people because they hadn't been paying enough attention (great customer service), I was still about a minute too late, and then it took me ten minutes to even get myself verified because none of my ID's would swipe and none of the so-called United Airlines employees wandering around would agree to give me any help.

So after the non-surprising message that my flight had already boarded, I stalked over to berate one of them, who curtly pointed me in the direction of a customer assistance line which was, unsurprisingly, just as long as the one I had just been in, since everyone in front of me had also missed their flights. And so began a theme which continued throughout the day, of bonding with fellow disgruntled passengers. The wandering employee who, trying to be helpful, told us that every day was like this, was met with raised eyebrows and cold disdain. "Ah, maybe that means they should make some freaking changes," the blondes en route to Hawaii and I sneered once she was out of our midst. 

I was put on an 11:00 flight to Pittsburgh, which meant I would still make my original transfer, so I was temporarily mollified, especially when I checked in anew at a US Airways counter where the lines were much shorter both at ticketing and security. I ate a delicious breakfast burrito and read the latest Rolling Stone. But my cheer started to dissipate when my flight was delayed until 11:30. Then 11:45. At 12:15 they sort of maybe started getting ready to board us. But none of us could tell because the woman holding the loudspeaker was holding it too close to her face and sounded, according to the elderly woman next to me, "just like that teacher in Charlie Brown." More confusion and belligerence toward US Airways ensued. At about 12:30 we finally boarded. We took our sweet old time moving down the runway, much to the consternation of a large group of Texans who, I swear to God, spent the entire six hour period that I observed them, from pre-flight to during flight to landing, analyzing whether or not they were going to make their transfer. They even had one of the flight attendants sucked into their anxiety, calling him over every ten minutes for the latest on what state we were flying over, and what knot the tailwinds were blowing at. 

So you can imagine the collective response when we finally landed, only to roll to a stop on the runway. We taxied for an inordinately long time ("Is he taking us to the maintenance shed?" the men in front of me pondered), then stopped again. 

"Sorry folks, but there's been a thunderstorm, and the runway is wet," said the pilot. This was an apology sufficient for no one. He would keep starting and stopping the plane again, and each time we stopped an entire wave of belligerent passengers, late for their transfers, would stand up and reach for their luggage. To which the stewardesses would snap and actually make violent acts of restraint (one closed the overhead bin vehemently, almost catching my neighbor's hand) while the pilot continued on with messages meant to placate us. 

"We're about 25 yards from the gate," he-literally- offered helpfully. 

So it was in another scene of bedlam that a mass exodus was finally made from the plane, and of course that just made everything take longer than necessary, and we all left in a spirit of Unity and Determination to phone in scathing complaints to United Airlines the second we got home. I rushed to my next flight only to find that it was delayed an hour as well. And then we took about an hour on the runway but by that time I was unphased by anything. Not even the thunderstorms on the way to Manchester. Not even the fact that they lost my luggage, and I had to wait in another long line to resolve that, since obviously they had lost practically everyone's luggage. We all stood and waited and let the sweet irony sink in as we watched some teenage employees being ordered to count the suitcases that had turned up- in error- at Manchester. 42. 42 bags that belonged to the people who, in turn, had gotten our bags somewhere else. Or not, since the man inside informed me that my bags were still en route to Philly or had possibly never even left San Francisco. 

I didn't even care at that point. I just told him very calmly and belligerently that this had been the absolute absurdly worst flying experience of my life and I wanted the 25$ to check my bag refunded, and he complied, and then I was finally on my way home. Once in my parent's car I contemplated how when looking at my itinerary for my trip I had gotten annoyed at two things; I didn't want a five hour layover in Philly (as originally scheduled), and I didn't want to pay any money for my luggage. 

2) So I guess the second thing I learned would be, be careful what you wish for. Or at least specific. 

3) And the third thing would be not to pack a jar of brown powdered alpaca poop in your carry on luggage when going through heightened airport security. 

I guess for most people, this goes without saying. But it was something that really didn't occur to me until standing barefoot in airport security wondering what was taking my stuff so long. 

Oh, you want to know why on earth I would be carrying such a thing onboard a flight? You're just like the goddamn airport police. Because it just so happens Luke's family owns an alpaca farm. And they discovered the poo is a good fertilizer and got really excited about marketing it, and sent a whole box of jars to Luke, and so over the course of time it was only natural that one of these jars would fall into my possession. And so when coming across it last minute in my stuff and debating whether or not to throw it out, I realized it would make a wonderful present for my mother, since all I ever give her are scarves and earrings. So that's why I had alpaca poo in my carry-on, and the police let me take it under the condition that I promise not to open it up on the flight, even if it wasn't lethal. 

And my mother was overjoyed with her present of alpaca poo. In fact, much more than she ever was with any of the scarves or earrings. Hmph!

4) When packing a bottle full of powdery green spirulina, make sure it is actually shut. 

5) Breakfast burritos at the airport. Mmm. 

6) The End. Except never, ever take United Airlines or US Airways. Although you do meet a lot of people in the process. And unleash your inner belligerence. And it could be a good way to get your luggage sent for free! I'm tired. Now it's really the end. 

Mumblin' Guitar

This is the best freaking thing I've ever seen/heard. I can't stop listening to it. Bo Diddley is my hero. 

Golden Gate

Proud Parents. 7.27.2011.

Where it all began...

Well, it's a rainy Friday morning here in Berkeley and I'm on the pull out couch at my friend Isobel's.... where I'm camped temporarily before my flight eastward on August 1st. This has been an incredible year, full of ups and downs and new challenges, but with that so much new growth and learning and expansion more into the person I've always wanted to become. When I think back on it all I'm so overwhelmed with gratitude about how quickly everything fell into place... meeting Luke, then Evan, then Travis... finding the rehearsal studio close by, being surrounded by other musicians who inspired and challenged me... raising the money for Kickstarter...  at the beginning, it seemed surprisingly easy, and somewhere along the way it turned into the most difficult thing I've ever done. Every lesson I've learned, I've learned in retrospect. How to fundraise. How to lead a band and organize practice and be diplomatic and negotiate. How to get my sound the way I want it. Performing. Recording. Patience. Time. Money. Relationships. Endurance. Idealism versus reality. And I still know absolutely nothing.

Except for the one thing I DO know with absolute certainty, which is that this is what I want to do, and work at, for a very long time. If there was anything that gift of Kickstarter money gave me, it was that conviction, which is worth more than anything. So thank you, thank you everyone who was a part of bestowing that gift upon me! Whether I'm in the rehearsal room with the band, or recording in the studio, or tinkering with new tunes with Luke on the roof or in the laundry room, I feel at peace. Even if I am frustrated by something in the moment, there is this deeper sense of satisfaction and fulfillment that I get when I am creating, entertaining, expressing. No matter how topsy turvy my life might be, it all feels worth it when it gets grounded in those moments, grounded in the song and the art and the story. I studied art history because I was fascinated by the lives of artists, and now for better or for worse I feel like I am living my own rock and roll saga. Someday I promise I will tell you the full and uncensored version! : )

But for now, let me tell you what we have and where we are headed. 2,000$ was, unfortunately, a naively small amount for me to fundraise for a fully mixed 8 song cd! Most people spend that much, if not way more, on one song alone! I had invested a considerable sum of my own money into practice time to make the studio dates go as smoothly and efficiently as possible, which they did, and the producer was duly impressed. But once we got through our two full days of recording I was left at a sort of panicked stand-still as to what to do next. All of the songs sounded great- except for Magical Mist, which Roger made me play to a metronome click track, thus sacrificing its natural pauses. Listening back to it made me cringe and so it got put on a sort of back burner, even though it is a song that I love and sounded amazing, ethereal, and haunting every time we played it live.

Now we had five group tracks to work with (Sweet Tangerine, Train Song, Highwayman, Hot Damn!, and Bird in Norwegian Wood), and I still wanted to do extra time to record two acoustic tracks (Break Me Down and Adelaide). Luke and I went back for a half day to add in guitar work, and then for about a month I took a hiatus from the studio while I worked a combination of housekeeping, web design, and folding tracksuits and hocking handbags at good ol' Juicy Couture to earn money for extra recording hours. Around this time Roger took on another project with a guy who seems to have money that (according to Roger) far outweighs his talent, so a lot of the times we wanted to get into the studio it would be booked. It was frustrating to feel like we were losing the steam from the Kickstarter campaign and the debut of The Liz O Show, but with Evan, our original drummer, permanently back in Boston, the studio being booked, and my computer screen having died, there was not a whole lot I could do. Except for hang out at the Berkeley library in my downtime and read books about the music business.

The books started shifting my perspective one chapter at a time, and soon the standstill seemed like a blessing in disguise. When I started envisioning the album, my intentions for it were mainly to have an awesome product to give to my friends and family, sell on my Boppity Bear website, maybe promote while I drove around the country in some brightly colored van. It was not particularly strategically thought out (as my dear mother pointed out to me when she came to visit in December). But I simultaneously had (and I admit, have always had) visions of making music videos, getting the songs on the radio, getting, well, famous. In typical Liz O fashion I hoped this would just magically happen once the cd was made. Realism has never been my strong suit. BUT I also think- I know!- that in insisting upon my idealist visions, I at least approach where I want to go, even if it is a much longer and windier path than I initially expected.

And the point I am trying to get to here is that reading these formulaic, step by step books on breaking into the music business gave me an increased and, I think, grounded, sense of determination and optimism. Because I realized while reading them that I don't actually WANT to be an independent, do it yourself, singer-songwriter. I want to go big. I want to be Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, Florence and the Machine, Adele. Maybe not so much Amy Winehouse. R.I.P. I want surreal vibrant candy colored music videos with trains and honky tonk bars and gypsy mountains and bayous and always lots of sex appeal. And I'm not ashamed to admit it. That's always been my dream, and when I think of how far I've come from a couple years ago when I was meekly testing out these songs on acoustic at open mike nights in Portland, Maine, I think I can go a lot farther in the next couple years!

So, with the advice of the music business books in mind, I headed back to the studio with a new game plan; get the very best songs mixed as best as possible. Have those five or six function as an EP, and use the very best three as demo songs in landing gigs, finding new drummers on the West Coast, and sending out to record labels! The best way to attract the attention of a record label, however, is to get a buzz going. Which involves, of course, having a band again, and performing tirelessly and consistently. Which, for some reason, I've always been weirdly afraid of and emotional about. I have weird patterns when it comes to building a fanbase, in that it is something I have subconsciously refused to do at all. I lose track of email addresses people give me, never contact them, change locations every few months, and don't go back to venues once I've been successful.

At one open mike night at the Dogfish Cafe in Portland Maine, I had started to build a considerable group of friends and fans, which became very clear to me in the moment that I was playing my second song and I realized the entire bar was listening to my every word. I couldn't hear anything except my own voice, which was definitely a first in the usually loud and raucous Dogfish. I went on to debut my ten minute song about the adventures of a French telephone, and they stayed riveted, people actually coming closer, neglecting their beers to focus on the story. I was incredibly intimidated. But I didn't let it affect my performance. Afterwards I got a standing ovation and a call for an encore. The open mike MC gave me a bear hug. It was the most exhilarating night of my life. And I didn't show my face in the Dogfish for two months after that.

So what I'm trying to say here is that usually my emotional blockages about something mean that there is something really rich waiting once that stone is overturned. And so I'm so excited for the next phase of Liz O Show life, which is hitting the stage! I'm so glad I have found fellow bandmates, particularly Luke, who are sharing in these dream with me and holding me accountable to fulfill it. We've already started testing out our next batch of rock and roll songs, and we recorded a couple of them such as "What You Pay For," "Megan," "Hit Me High," and "The Hullaballoo," with a student at the School of Audio Engineering for practice. This week we've been in the studio finishing work on our two biggies, "Sweet Tangerine" and "The Train Song." We also have "Break Me Down" and "Adelaide" mixed, and Roger is taking a break before he mixes "Hot Damn!" and "The Bird in Norwegian Wood." "Magical Mist" and "Highwayman" are left outstanding for the moment... I'll either finish them here when I get back, or at a studio on the East Coast.

For now, I am looking forward to a period of rejuvenation... seeing family, frolicking with friends in the Magical Forest that is Omega, sleeping, being at the lake, working on the packaging and artwork for the album/EP, getting Kickstarter rewards in the mail, building an absolutely fantastic website better than ever before, and gearing up for the next chapter! Hopefully there will be some music making with Evan in Boston, and there will most definitely, my friends, be Bingeing with the Buddha.

Get ready for the belligerence.

And my deepest love to you all.

LOVE,
Liz O!

The Berkeley Diaries

new look!

Hello friends! It's been a while since I've updated since there was that whole phase where my computer screen went kaput, and before that phase I had been hoping to expand my online presence again (re: obsessively update posts and statuses so you knew what I was doing every moment every day, and knew that I was doing MUSIC, and working on getting this cd made, because heaven forbid you think anything else...) but then I kind of took my computer dying as a sign that there were other things to focus on, namely, making money so I COULD make the cd, and having a healthy balanced lifestyle so I didn't burn out, so anyway that's what I did through the months of June and July. 

I lived in two different sublets in Berkeley, where there were sunshine and flowers and comfy beds to sleep in, and I worked sometimes from early morning to late at night, at two different jobs in the city, commuting back and forth. And since I didn't have my computer in the off time when I wasn't working, I did things that were previously in my character, like went to the library and got stacks of books (mostly on magic and the music business), and things that were previously OUT of my character, like COOKED. Cooked! Yes, cooked. No really, I did. It was weird. But kind of good! Mostly, sometimes.

Except for when I got all paranoid about the bacteria that may or may not be present in turkey and baked it to a crisp and failed to enjoy it even while crisp-like due to hypochondria about undercooking. I also gave up sugar and bread and alcohol and carbs, and so really my life was very monotonous except for when I gleaned new bouts of inspiration from my books about the music business, or played Break Me Down in the garden and looked for four leaf clovers (I found at least twelve. I'm a freak. A lucky, lucky, freak!)


So, anyhoo. Below you will find pictures from my "Domestic Goddess" phase, its rise and fall (the fall being the popcorn explosion all over the kitchen).

The Domestic Goddess Strikes Again! And Again, and Again!

Quinoa and beet salad!

Chickpea curry!

Veggie Enchilada Pie!

Not my proudest moment. 

Definitely not my proudest moment.

Bad getting worse.

A return to glory!

Fiesta Mexicana!

In the Studio

Me & Roger at the helm

So, yesterday was a return to Golden Gate Recordings to work on some vocals. I never sleep well before the studio because I'm like a kid on Christmas Eve! I woke up groggy yet excited and made myself an elixir of green tea and honey and cayenne, and boarded the train into the city. There were delays because of a fire in the Transbay tunnel ("Great..." We all muttered) and more and more people kept piling onto the car because they'd been re-routed from some other line. So the car was full and people were at their most ornery and on edge, and we sat at one station for fifteen minutes, while the doors kept opening and closing and the same announcement about the delay kept playing over and over, and finally we pulled into the tunnel only to jerk to a stop. We moved forward a little, then stopped again. As we sat there, my ears popped, and I heard a murmur going around, that other people's ears had popped too.

"I guess it's the wind?" One girl said.

And it was that moment that I started to get very panicky, indeed, in this train that had each of its ten or fifteen cars packed with people, in a tunnel under the water where there might be a fire somewhere on the tracks, stuck with our ears popping because of changes in pressure. I think other people were getting panicky, too, and I could feel that energy rising, and so I just put down my head and prayed that we would make it out of there safely and easily soon. And then lo and behold we did; the train started moving again and within minutes we were at Embarcadero station; we'd been closer to the city than I thought.

So it was with great relief flooding my body that I ascended the stairs out of the Civic Center BART station and made my way to the recording studio. Inside, Roger, the engineer, had pulled up a different track than I had advised, but I took that as a divine nudge and agreed to work on that one, The Bird in Norwegian Wood, instead of Sweet Tangerine. Roger's suggestions were to redo my guitar on acoustic instead of electric, and add in some backing percussion, like a tambourine. I wasn't particularly confident with the latter idea at first, but once I figured out the best way to hit it to get a good jingle I started to get into it, varying my style according to different parts of the song, clanging it against the drum kit for extra effect when needed, using both hands to shake it exuberantly during the grand finale.

I saw Roger sort of frown from the engineering booth, and he cut the song three quarters of the way in.

"What was wrong with that?!" I demanded into the mike.

"You're just getting warmed up.... aren't you?" He asked, rather hopefully.

I made a little growly noise, and he chuckled. I have a lot of fun working with Roger, and I think vice versa. He took special care to make sure an extra mike was rigged up in the vocal booth so that he could hear me in between takes, since apparently my reaction to mess ups is "the best part."

We went through the tambourine again with me getting even more exuberant and adding some extra flair. I was quite happy with the way the take turned out, and I thought Roger was too, until at some later point he made a reference to "his friend the professional percussionist" who could maybe come help us out.

"What are you saying, Roger?" I asked. "You want to axe my tambourine?!"

"Well..." he paused diplomatically. "Do you want the tambourine credit on the cd? Or do you want the song to sound good?"

But the latest decision is that it's staying, and so when you listen to the cd all of you who know me well can picture me perched barefoot and happy as a clam on a stool in the vocal booth, banging away with childlike zeal on the tambourine.

I then played my part on Roger's vintage Taylor guitar, a beautiful instrument and the kind I'd been dreaming about recording with.... on the night we received funding from kickstarter, I went to Guitar Center and into the room of old Martins and Taylors and played Adelaide and Break Me Down and wished to the Universe that I would somehow create that sound on the cd. And what do you know!

Anyway, I next did vocals and the song sounds great- all we need is for Luke to redo his part and it will be ready to mix! Then we did vocals on Sweet Tangerine- also ready to mix now, and The Train Song. I'm feeling good about everything and can't wait to release the songs into the world! But the process of creating them is also so much fun and I want to take my time with it, do it right, and learn as much as I can since I hope to be doing this again and again!

We reached a good stopping place after Train Song and I needed to go to the ATM to pay Roger for the session. He offered to give me a ride and as we pulled up the street, we saw Luke, who had just gotten out of work and was on his way to join us, striding across the intersection. We decided to harass him since we were, after all, in the heart of the notorious Tenderloin.

"Hayyyyy, SNOW BUNNY!!!!!" I hollered out the window as Roger leaned on the horn. Luke hopped in and we proceeded to go on a bit of an urban safari. The sun was out and so were all the crack addicts and people screaming to themselves and at each other and towing each other in wheelchairs and the like, and we took in the sights and talked about music until Roger pulled over at a curb.

"Where's the ATM?" I asked.

"Right over there, next to the person IN the garbage can," Roger said. "Maybe you should go with her, Luke."

So that marks the end of three full days of recording and I will certainly update you after the next session, hopefully next weekend!

LOVE,
Liz O

Overheard in My Head

So, I have informally diagnosed my inner voice with Tourette's Syndrome. It gets particularly belligerent, ornery, and verbally spasmodic when pre-menstrual, hyped up on caffeine, tired, or low blood sugar, and runs positively rampant when in a combination of two or more of the above. And let's face it; I am usually some combination of the above.

Except that last week, in coinciding with the break down of my computer, I decided to take some responsibility for my manic mood swings and try to cut out the sugar and caffeine, replacing them as much as I could with whole grains and chamomile tea. That lasted all of two and a half days, and on Saturday night I was returning from a long shift of work, and feeling the premenstruality set in, and so my shopping basket of Trader Joe's consisted of a bag of chocolate chips, a two dollar bottle of red wine, three clif kids granola bars (flavors: chocolate chip and chocolate brownie), and a personal frozen pizza.

By the next morning I was all hyped up and manic again, and flipping through The Joy of Cooking to see what I could create with my new chocolate chips now that I had already vanquished my Clif kids bars. I flipped through entrees, meats, vegetables, soups and stews, desserts, and confections as my inner voice became increasingly impatient. Finally, I flipped a page and my inner voice uttered a long, low, proclamation of triumph, hanging on and relishing every word.

"COOKIES. AND. BARS."

 Later, when I emerged from the Berkeley library at closing time, I was crashing from my bout of mania, chocolate, and caffeine. I had walked all over town and hadn't really eaten anything except chocolate chips all day, and now I was on the lookout for anything large and meaty. But I was in such an ornery mood that I kept rejecting every establishment I went into, because of high prices or hipsters or overly smiley waitstaff. (Seriously. Ornery.)

Then, I saw a bright yellow beacon of hope beckoning to me from across the street.

"SANDWICH ZONE?!?!?!?!!!!!" I said, aloud, and practically walked into oncoming traffic toward it. But the next thing I saw was "Closed" and I harrumphed (aloud, again) and did an about face and stalked off. It was about that time I decided I needed to eat something, anything, just to get a basic old on myself. And a moment later I found 5 dollar gyro sandwiches and it was prepared in minutes and was delicious, and I was still hungry and slightly ornery even after consuming it wild dog style next to someone's mailbox, but I made it the rest of the way home without any more major inner voice Tourette's episodes.

In fact, I cooked a delicious dinner and found a four leaf clover and made friends with my roommates, but that's a story for the next post! <3

Well, my trusty computer's back-light died and now the only way I can do things on it is by shining a spotlight at the screen. I was going to launch into a whole long story about the situation and all of the spiritual significance I see involved, but I'm too tired and plus I'm at the Berkeley library on a public computer and there seems to be this trend with people who use public computers which is that they typically have some form of cold and smell bad.

I was also going to add excerpts to "Domestic Goddess" and "Overheard in my Head" but those will also have to wait for later when I have my spotlight.

Blech! I'm outta here. It smells like old coffee and body odor and cigarettes.

Love, The Wanderess

Rolling in the Deep

Today was an absolutely faboo day. I had a day off from work and it was raining and cozy inside, and I stayed in my pajamas until about 3. I felt almost guilty, like I was playing hooky from school... probably because it was a weekday and work called to see if I could come to fill in for someone. But that was the last thing I wanted to do, and I hadn't had a soul-nurturing day in forever. So I told them I was busy, and I played all day... I designed our album cover...

and edited videos of us in the studio, and plotted and planned, and shot this video of me boogie-ing to my favorite song of the moment, "Rolling in the Deep." 

I still feel guilty. Probably because I am momentarily broke before my paychecks come in, and I am stressed over what is the path to take to achieving the sort of success I want. Is it to play by the rules of the "real world," and earn enough money to be secure, and THEN do what with your leftover time and energy you have? Or is it to insist on your own path and take the risks involved? I guess that in going back to work, I realized that I miss materials, stability, financial security. It's something I've never really created for myself. But in walking this sort of tightrope, the after-college independent limbo, you are forced to see what your values are. And mine are definitely being able to have days like today, where I get to just PLAY like I did when I was nine- the results not so important as the letting my spirit come out and be nurtured. But I also like to own lots of shiny things to wear and play with. 

But, thinking about this further, this year of being "broke" has actually been the most rich experience I've had in a very long time! And yes, I was going to use that adjective before I even realized the pun involved. It has forced me to ride things out and be patient and employ new ways of thinking about things- ways of thinking that never would have had the time to develop before, because I had the luxury to act on impulse. I could buy a bunch of food and binge on it and then purge. I could go shopping and buy a lot of things to make me feel better- trinkets and doo-dads to momentarily add some sparkle, some attraction, before everything faded again. Wow. Going into this blog I didn't expect this at all, but I am happy to see that through writing I am reminding myself of the big learning experience of this year, which has been finding balance in learning to live with less. To accept the situation right in front of me as is, and, hopefully, grow from it. 

Domestic Goddess

So, I'm back in the house where I did the sublet before where there was the guy who called me evil for refrigerating a tomato. Actually, I'm subletting FROM the guy who called me evil for refrigerating a tomato. It's a long story, but basically the day after I became desperate to sublet again, I was walking through a Berkeley park in the middle of the night going to visit a friend, and another person was walking through the park and it was the guy who I subletted from the first time, and we got to talking and he told me his roommate was leaving and the next day the check was paid. This is how my life works, and I rather like it.

So here I am again and last night I cooked pasta and it was a big huge deal in my mind, such a huge deal that I almost started an entire blog called "Domestic Goddess" where I would make something every night and then write about it. Typical! I'm glad some sequence of online events stopped me from doing it. We all know there would be about one post. And we all also know that the last thing I need is another blog.

But anyway, here's me eating spaghetti/hummus/tomato sauce mash with a spoon.

That's all. 

Liz O Show Live at Submission!

What a pleasant surprise that my friend Carl captured me singing one of my favorite songs, Adelaide, at our first show! The song is about my car, by the way. I miss you, Adelaide!

Point Reyes

Yesterday my friend Isobel and I went on a soul-nurturing jaunt to Point Reyes in Marin County, where we basked in the sun and wind and talked about art and life and wrote a message in a bottle and cast it out to sea.

My Dearest Filbertine, 
It has been three months since our torrid night off the coast of Point Reyes. I can still hear your wild cries echoing through the chambers of my heart. They torture me in those quiet moments between waking and seep, when I dream I can still feel your pearly alabaster skin on mine. I can only hope that the swarthy stranger who swept you into the seas (on a boat) is worthy of your tender embrace. 

May he and his tin-can of an apparatus (I'm talking about the boat again) be plundered* like the way you both plundered my heart. If you ever want to retrieve the skimpy underthing which you so brazenly left in my possession, I will be awaiting your arrival with equal parts lust and resentment. 
Just sound the foghorn three times before approaching the lighthouse. 


Your ever-loving
(and also resentful)
Hamilton Sedgwick III, Esq.