My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

So, Tuesday evening I saw Alanis Morissette play an acoustic show at the Mahaffey Theater, a swanky venue a bridge away from Tampa, in nearby St. Pete.

Generally, I go into concerts with low expectations, but certain artists are just guaranteed to put on a spectacular live show, Alanis is one such artist. مراهنات المباريات Honestly, she often sounds better live than what she creates in the studio. I can’t stand her two latest records, not because the songs are badly written, but because they sound awful, her voice run through so many filters, she sounds like a fuckin’ machine. Fortunately, Tuesday, she played unplugged and filter-free. بيت365 She sounded absolutely gorgeous.

The show wasn’t part of a tour for any particular record, but rather, a celebration of twenty years in music. كازينو عبر الانترنت She sang for her fans, all the songs we love best, mostly from Jagged Little Pill, Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie, a little Under Rug Swept and MTV: Unplugged. The years have only given her voice a certain richness, emotional depth.

It was a fun night.

So, last night, the Alanis concert was spectacular. Her voice honestly sounded even better than it did twenty ago.

I didn’t feel so spectacular today, so I’m going to write my full take on the evening tomorrow.

So, tonight I see Alanis Morissette, it’ll be the third time I’ve seen her live. The second time I saw her live was actually the first time I’d seen her in concert, she was doing a tour for Jagged Little Pill Acoustic, and that was a great show. Obviously, she mostly sang songs from Jagged Little Pill, but she also did a few songs off of my personal favorite Alanis record, Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie.

However, the very first time I ever saw Alanis Morissette wasn’t in concert, it was during her U.S. tv debut, on The Late Show with David Letterman. Guest-wise, it was a really off-night, it was David Brenner, an astonishingly boring (God rest him)… comedian? intellectual? raconteur? I don’t know. Then, the musical guest, some girl from Canada, Alanis Morissette. I knew who David Brenner was, but Alanis Mori-who? I’d never heard of her. I didn’t care about the guests anyway, I was just really excited to be there, and really nervous. After the show, I was going to meet and photograph Dave. I was so nervous about meeting Dave, I didn’t even notice Alanis setting up, but once she started singing… you HAD to notice. She sang You Oughta Know, full-blast, absolutely raw, intense, totally un-edited for tv. Well, she had me at and are you thinkin’ of me when you fuck her?

Jagged Little Pill was massive from then on, and Alanis joined the lexicon of singer/song writers that truly changed music.

I don’t really have much today. It was a slow day. Tomorrow night, I’m going to an Alanis Morissette acoustic show, I’m really excited about that, her voice, her honesty, her use of words is so beautiful without a bunch of instruments and a ton of noise.

Otherwise, I’m really very melancholy.

My manicure…

I went with purple!

Like my clothes, my manicures are never, say, hot pink. العاب كازينو مجانية

I could get anybody to paint my nails, but I like the whole manicure experience. You get the hot towels, a hand massage, nails trimmed, filed, buffed shiny. It’s very relaxing.

Getting a manicure…

I just finished a manicure, it was very soothing. I got the most spectacular hand massage, it was… transcendent. Really, it was that good.

More later.

So, like, seven or eight years ago I picked up this book, Vellum: The Book of All Hours. This was during the infancy of ebooks, back before iBooks, before Kindle, back when Palm was the platform for ebooks. I can’t imagine a worse device for reading books, but they developed a Mac app, and an online ebooks store, and for a very little while, Palm was “it” for digital reading.

Anyway, yes, I bought this book, Vellum, I read, maybe, fifty pages, and I put it down. Then a few years later I bought it in Kindle format and I don’t know if I ever even opened it. Now, today, I’m into Vellum again, and this time, I’m going to finish it or die trying, which feels kind of possible. I think it’s called The Book of All Hours, because it takes all the hours of your life to get through it. I’ve been reading since I nabbed from iBooks three days ago and it feels like three years. I feel like it’s never going to stop, and the constant shifts in time, in perspective, in reality, they don’t help you feel like your moving forward or even backward, or even fucking sideways. It’s like reading words written on the tread of a treadmill. You just keep going ’round and ’round, world without end, Amen.

I’m going to finish, then I’ll write a full review, as opposed to this pre-review rant.

Today was kind of ho-hum… My current trach tube is really bothering me, it’s hard to find focus when you’re not breathing free and easy.

For now, I’m tired.

So, a quick auto-update later and we’re running WordPress 4.2. It’s nothing drastic, but more a robust set of refinements, mostly for the sharing of content from the web and Twitter directly to your blog posts.

Generally, I’m not big on sharing links, and articles, pictures of adorable kitties with traches, Facebook has never been my bag. I started the blog, particularly this iteration, with the idea of mainly posting original content. I’m doing a really shit job of it, but original content is the idea… I’ve gotten into this pattern of vowing to do better, then failing. Vow fail vow fail vow fail. It’s frustrating. I’m frustrated. I’m frustrated in so many ways.

Anyway, let’s make one potentially final grand vow… I’m going to post every single day until June 1, but if I fail, I delete the blog. I’m not vowing quality, mind you, just quantity. I’ve said it before, I think that if you’re a writer, and you’re confidant that you do know the craft, quality can be a natural progression of quantity. At any rate, I’ve never backed-up the blog, and I won’t back-up. It’ll just be… gone.

After June 1, if we get there, I’ll re-evaluate the situation.

She’s gone, save for in my dreams. She’s with me in my dreams. Always in my dreams. Only in my dreams.

It’s not the same, just the whisper of her voice, her laugh. It’s just the ghost of her kiss, her touch, as if felt through a thin layer of gauze. I gently brush the tips of my fingers across her lips. If I could just let go, just fall completely into my mind, I could feel the softness of her, her tongue caressing my fingertips. She lays her hand on my chest, feels that my heart beats fast and strong and only for her. My heart is pounding as she lays next to me, in that non-place, that place that isn’t a place, where your mind goes while your body sleeps. She drapes her arm across me, holds me close. I don’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else. She feels like home. I say to her, “I don’t want you to go away.” “I won’t,” she says. “I’m right here, don’t be scared,” she says. Being there with her is everything I want, all I want, and I am scared, scared she’ll vanish if I simply breathe too hard, if I look away at just the wrong moment. She holds me closer, kisses me deeply. slow-like. I close my eyes, lean into her, get lost in the kiss, in her…

…and I wake up. Vivid dream to unwanted reality in a blink. My heart is trying to beat its way out of me, through muscle and bone and skin, like it wants to be free of me for once and all. I wake freezing, awash in cold sweat. The room is dark, quiet, lonely. She isn’t next to me. The room may as well be in some hotel, or a hospital, it doesn’t feel like home, and I don’t want to be there. The wheres really don’t matter, without her, the wheres feel the same. So much sameness.

Waking and loss, sunrise and pain, they hold no difference. Still, before the waking and loss, the sunrise and pain, at least she’s with me in my dreams, and that’s something. At least, it isn’t nothing.