Sometimes I really believe in fate. Sometimes everything seems to be going too terribly wrong and horrible that I can’t possibly believe in fate because this couldn’t possibly be my fate.
When am I going to learn that I always end up where I’m supposed to, somehow?
The realization that brings me to an unable-to-breath-halt as of late is that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. While on my post-album pilgrimage, I made a list of the things that were important to me. Not things, per say, but ideas…
Pieces of mind.
Puzzles to put together.
Castles to build.
Stars to count.
Mountains to climb.
Seas to swim.
People to meet.
Lists to make.
And it wasn’t a list I made right after said adventure…it was mostly made about a year ago and is, the Greater Than Not Equal To, One Day Eventually Maybe, Long Term Sometime Vision on the other side of My Life, Thus Far.
Some of my more recent revelations include the thought that I would rather live in squalor than live beyond my means. I am perfectly capable living a full, fun and productive existence without owning property. In fact I prefer not to, mainly because I could never pick one place in which to live. Ok so that’s Exhibit A right there. Back to the squalor part.
I would also rather live humbly than beyond my means. All over this world there are people in debt up to the roof of their three-story house because they Cannot Go Without.
I, for one, can.
And will. If I am going to be in debt, it will be because recording is fucking expensive as hell. And that’s a bummer. Maybe it won’t always be so but right now it is. I could have 3 more albums done right now if it weren’t for damn studio cost. Anyways. That’s another rant for another time.
Awhile back you may remember me moaning and groaning about getting kicked out of the Totally Awesome House with a Piano I was living in for the last ten months. Not only was I mourning the loss of my creative time spent alone in that house, but I was also rendered homeless, and without a clue as to where I would turn to (informed on the 29th of the month, no less).
Being in a punk rock band somehow gives you all these skills you don’t realize you’ve acquired until you’re thrown to the wolves out in the wilderness. I credit my ability to quickly find housing, employment, gigs, etc. with being in a punk rock band. You just have to find a way, because no one else is going to do it for you. It really is the best way to learn how to Grow The Fuck Up, and ties in with all that Lost Cause/Find Your Own Way/Throw Out the Map hoopla.
So if anyone was going to find a place to live in two days, gosh darnit if it wasn’t going to be me.
Unfortunately, some things in this world are just out of our control. I find this kind of thing very frustrating. Take this whole gettin’ the boot thing… Nothing I could have done would have changed anything (aside from being psychic). Finding a place was also not in the cards. This was partially my fault, however.
You see, I have very specific living requirements.
Not only do I now require a piano in my house (as in, I would rather have no fridge, stove, couch, dishwasher or any of that stuff if it meant I could have a piano), but I need to live with people who are either a) gone all the time or b) would put up with me making a never-ending racket. The last place was the former.
I also have this incredible adorable cat named Mouse. If you’ve met her, you will agree she is the best cat ever. She makes people cry when she moves out, and if you are sitting somewhere, she has to be sitting on you. She also follows you all over the house and just does a great all around job at making you feel like you’re super cool and super loved.
So there’s just no way I’m ever going anywhere without her.
Then there’s the whole thing with me being gone all the time.
In the last ten months, I was gone for six. In the span of five months, I was gone for four. So not only is it really stupid for me to live
in a place where the rent is a millionty dollars (because that is just a waste) but I also can’t live alone or with someone who won’t take care of a sweet, caring, self-cleaning cat.
Add that all up and you’ve got an incredible conundrum on your hands.
I looked at a bunch of different places. Some friends, some friends of friends, some strangers. Most had two of the three requirements (Piano/Music Is Allowed, Cat is Allowed, You Are Allowed To Be Gone All The Time). But none of them had all the requirements. So I was at a loss. And back to square one.
One day, on my way from looking at one place to looking at another place, I randomly ran in to my friend Emma in the middle of the street.
Immediately, it struck me as odd (or at least worth noting), because the one and only person I had a habit of running in to randomly in the middle of the street was Devon Clifford.
Devon Clifford was the drummer in my first punk rock band The Blue Collar Bullets. He was an amazing person, one of the best you’ll ever meet, and one of my first ever boyfriends. Tragically he passed away on stage about a year ago and Emma and I really needed each other when it came to the healing process, having both been so close to him. So here I am, about to check out this new place, and I walk right in to Emma.
“You’re going to look at a new place? Hmmm…”
Next thing I know she’s telling me that she is moving in to a new place (August 1st however) and the two bedrooms are spoken for but there’s a room in the basement that someone was living in before that I could take. It would mean my rent would be super cheap (even cheaper than before) and I immediately had visions of creating Crazy Person Room/Workspace Part II. I agreed to move in without even seeing the place.
It needed some cleaning up, but it is really everything a kid ready to write two more albums and two books by the end of the year needs: lots of space (wall space, that is) and room for some instruments. Okay so technically I live in the laundry room but hey, that’s what I signed up for.
I guess my biggest realization of this year is just that I am more committed than ever to Art, and the artist life. If I’m known for being this crazy basement dweller songwriter who pumped out 4 Ikea paper rolls of material every quarter and wrote all over the walls and sheets, let’s get serious here…that’s fucking awesome!
Back in the day, the most amazing painters and sculptors of the last five centuries were supported by the church. Sure, it rendered about a million paintings and pieces and variations of Mary and Bambino, but at least they were working. They were able to paint, sculpt and progress as artists because of the church. Now who supports these people? There are some grants, sure, but who ensures that the greats are not living in ditches? No one, really.
I find it really incredible that people out there in The Internet are somehow (thankfully) helping me to finance the never ending recording bills and my very little, meager, humble existence. You guys are like…the new chuch haha. Well, I believe in you, And that counts for something, right? I also believe in fate apparently now so what the hell do I know. And I live in a very Crazy Room that’s actually a laundry room so maybe don’t listen to anything I say.
Another thing I like about my new place is that I can’t get internet in the basement. It is like a sign from the heavens of something. Every time I bust out a chapter of this book I always find 87 more Ryan Adams videos to watch and kablooey there goes the neighbourhood. And by neighbourhood I mean next chapter.
If I’m clear on what the deal is here, I will be without internet almost entirely. Maybe every few days I will venture up to Commercial drive and post some pictures or a new blog entry. Maybe you’ll see me there and if not you’ll for sure see me here or on Twitter which I’ll still be posting pictures and updates with my phone. So if I’m a little bit quieter than normal don’t be alarmed. If anything I suspect I will be writing more, as I am really in the writing zone lately. People who say writing a book is hard just don’t sit down and do it. You just have to sit down and do it. This shit doesn’t write itself you know haha.
Okay well this is now an incredibly long blog entry (see what happens when you take the internet away from me!?!?) so I will sign off for now and say happy day to all. Imagine me in my Crazy Room writing on the walls and drinking never ending cups of tea out of fantastic mugs, typing on my broken computer a chapter or two of a book you will one day (hopefully) read, and taking little breaks to hang out with The Cat Named Mouse. I’m in here. And I’m alive. And I’m thinking of you. Out there.
Here I go guys.