&& making beet kraut in a ceramic crock I made and I’m wondering about the cosmos in a void and what if we’re all just one big ferment? Like my body n’ urs and even this big dumb city n’ actually its all the microbes that are in charge.
there are no horoscopes this month because nothing is actually real. the stars are a figment and the attempt to define time is merely the human race struggling for a kind of control that it cannot actually attain. we can all go home and lie down for as long as we like and doing so will in no way affect the outcome of our lives or the pretend universe that we live in thank you have an exquisite july
“The archetype of the witch is long overdue for celebration. Daughters, mothers, queens, virgins, wives, et al. derive meaning from their relation to another person. Witches, on the other hand, have power on their own terms. They have agency. They create. They praise. They commune with nature/ Spirit/God/dess/Choose-your-own-semantics, freely, and free of any mediator. But most importantly: they make things happen. The best definition of magic I’ve been able to come up with is “symbolic action with intent" — “action" being the operative word. Witches are midwives to metamorphosis. They are magical women, and they, quite literally, change the world.”—
Tour is over, we’re at G’s apartment making dumpster fruit smoothies and writing (and sleeping!!!). We kind of sucked at blogging, but we’re also pretty sure S’s mom and Adrienne are the only people that are reading/caring. (shoutout thx Mrs. S and A, our biggest fans)
This tour has taken us through a lot of different countries, languages, squats, info shops, strange bars in Bosnia, a squated garden in Prauge. I’ve eaten some of the best food (for free, thx kind hosts!), drank local soda’s and beers because of G, taken some cray beautiful drives, always looked to the Big Dipper every night (this might have just been me).
We’re starting a new folk-punk band called Spread Binge, named after a fateful night between Leon and Grenoble where we slept at a truck stop and consumed an entire jar of Speculous spread (for non-Frenchies this is a spread that tastes basically like spreadable cookie).
I’m flying back to NY on Friday. So see ya’ll soon/n’ smell you later to my new friends here.
Tired feelings and eyes while techo plays in Sarajevo and my throat is scratchy. I was coughing and the owner of the bar told me with a dead-pan face to eat more hot-sauce to toughen up.
The bar is empty; just me and Sara. I don’t even like bars, but listen, this is a funny image: two nerdy girls who smell weird sitting on bar stools frantically writing in an empty room while wild techno plays. I’m pretending my fingers are at a rave, dancing on the paper—maybe hula-hooping.
Earlier in the day we had eaten strawberries and looked around the city. I don’t know much about the war here but there were remnents we spotted, as well as bursts of life. ‘Queer Revolt’ was tagged around the walls.
We’re driving towards Milano and here it’s flat fields and occasional industrial buildings and one long blue sky. If I ignore the bruise-blue mountains in the distance, it feels like we’re driving through Indiana. Despite the startling beauty and the dance of languages I’ve been floating through for the past 5 months, Indiana rests my point of comparison and Bloomington the plumb line.
I read The Outsiders out loud (crushes on Sodapop all around) in the car, only stopping when we found a bar open on Sunday morning and drank espresso. As we were leaving, a crowd of Italians fed a baby morcels of foccacia.
Arrived at the info shop in Milan 2 hours early and threaded through the hot streets looking for vegan gelato (found it, holla). Add that to the pan of foccacia we ate for breakfast and today was food gold. Oh and I’m forgetting the watermelon we bought and gauged open with L’s knife on the side of the road.
Infoshop show in the park and raw food and a jam session and a hyper little kid with a cool name, the end.
Waiting on the street. We came back to nice to have a show for our friends, and I was going to be hanging out in my house surrounded by hoosiers, but at that moment I was just waiting for them on the street. the food for lunch was ready, the merch was packed, the tour plan printed and we were playing my last local show that night. we were waiting on the street, and they came by some other stairs. we found ourselves and ate, joked and swapped stories the way you do when you actually come around friends while on tour, and not just “promoters”. After a couple of hours, we all packed ourselves into the car, except A. who went on by bus, and drove toward nice. GLI ALTRI was already unloading their gear at the gate of le Volume, and after having parked the car, we figured out the evening was going to be a good one. well, GHOST MICE were getting local by drinking some atlas, which made my day. the sound checks were quick, the food was ready, and after a while I started my set. playing one last show in nice, after a couple dozens of them in the last few years. L was holding the door, and when GLI ALTRI started their set, I was missing out on it by taking his seat, until another friend who came for the acoustic evening told me they couldn’t stand the noisy post-hardcore. it was my luck, and I went to rage on it. seriously, you call that noisy ? I call it awesome. a wall of disrtorded violin shredds topping an italian fugazi, or something. GHOST MICE played next, as a two piece of guitar & melodica. I was back at the door back then, and quickly checked the situation. my basic maths skills got me to think that we had enough cash to give money to all of the bands according to their needs, which would make me not miss out on hearing the show from the other side of that solid door. I took the cash in my pocket and went to sing along to my friends, which made me almost lost my voice (having their CDs on the car doesn’t help much either). last was KIDS AGAINST CROSSES, because the popular local bands always play last, otherwise everyone leaves. it almost all finished on time, and we packed the food leftovers for picnic the next day. damn, I’m gonna miss that town afterall.
Basically decided to travel in Europe based on Ghost Mice’s album about their wanderings here, sleeping outside and hitching rides—needless to say it was good (yet surreal) to hang & hear them play.