Exceptional

So I moved to LA with this thought that I could part the waters with my ability and smile. I came down here thinking there were tons of jobs and I'd make friends immediately, that I'd be fine within a month or two. I've only been here for a few weeks, but as an update, the seas haven't parted yet, I still don't have a job, I haven't started from scratch in getting to know people for as long as I can remember and so far, this is really hard.

I brought Joe, my 13 year old dog and Marty, my 7 year old cat down here, too. Joe hasn't lived without a dog door for 7 years. I didn't realize how often he has to go out. So for the last 2 weeks when I'm used to getting a full night's sleep, I've napped. I've napped, and that's just about all I want to do during the day cause I'm so tired. Marty's cat hair gets everywhere, he wants to scratch and chew on things- wooden things. I hear other cats outside fighting at night and so I don't want to let him go out there and come back like the one-eyed neigbhor cat. So these guys are not necessarily adjusting perfectly to LA life either.

I am trying to join the union- hoping for a letter from an ex-boss this week. I'm applying for every job I can find. I'm trying to go out on my own and explore. I've instead been making up for lost sleep, continuously trying to clean up my house, waiting to see what happens every day and being surprised when the answer is not much. I know 'try' is an excuse for do, I know I've got to make it happen. I know there's a world out there waiting for me to take advantage of it. I guess I'm writing right now cause I felt like it and I'm feeling like taking on the world is hard, at least for today.

I'm hoping I can make the seas part in the morning... I'll keep you posted.

You never forget your first time

I'm a 37 year old woman. So far in my life, I've been lucky enough to see a show of some sort at most iconic music venues across the US. A few have eluded me- the Roxy and the Fox in Atlanta, the Opera in Santa Fe, NM, and I'm sure there are hundreds of theaters that if I knew about how cool they were, I'd add them to this list. But I don't know them, so I don't know what I'm missing. There will always be more.

Tonight, though, I got to cross a big one off of my list... the legendary Hollywood Bowl. Since I moved to LA a few months ago, I've been scheming about which show would be my first there. I was all ready to try for a double night whammy of John Mayer and Dave Matthews Band, sentimental, rockin' and memorable, but ended up on Phish tour, thus was out of town for my big plans. Pink Martini is there in a week or so, so I considered that after enjoying them at the Oregon Zoo last week. But today, at 5pm, my good friend Bart offered me his spare ticket to tonight's Herbie Hancock 70th Birthday Celebration Concert. I had no idea what I was getting into: didn't know where the seats were, didn't know who was playing, didn't know what I'd be hearing (didn't have a clue). Not knowing how lucky I was to being on the receiving end of this offer, I am so thankful I said yes.


I like that you can't see the venue from Highland Avenue. Unless you've seen photos, imagination doesn't do the scale of the venue justice. It's massive yet somehow maintains intimacy and a feeling of personal experience. Once you make it through Highland traffic and arrive at the entrance to the Hollywood Bowl, you drive in and park in lines- one car stacked after another, 5 rows wide, 20 cars long. "It's part of the Bowl Culture," says Bart. I laugh outloud, cause seriously there's nothing you can do to avoid this clusterf*ck. You commit and stay for the long haul. There's no alternative, so the best option is to laugh about it, park and find a glass of wine.

We arrived a few minutes after 8p. The show had started, but because my concert companion rocks, he showed no stress while waiting for me as I wrangled red wine and sweet potato fries (best concert treats ever). Box seats he said. Following to the first entrance, though the pearly gates and into magic. Stage to the right was lit up. To the left, seats as far back as I could barely see and two spots beamed overhead, illuminating a masterpiece being played on stage.

There aren't too many moments in life that I can't think about anything else but this: "I'll never forget this feeling/ moment/ experience/ energy for as long as I live" but that was all I could think as I took it in. Overjoyed as we walked to our seats, perfectly centered and close in, geeking out with the jazz pros, we found our way through the dark to perfection.

Like I said earlier, the venue has great juju. The energy in the space is tangible and the stage radiates with luminescentsy glow- impossible to duplicate shimmers of pinks, greens and blues. Perhaps that's due to the proximity you feel to the people in your box... new friends after a few notes. Perhaps it's because you can so clearly see the people in your area or hear even their whispers so closely. The audience tonight seemed to be composed of (mostly older) musical/ jazz geeks. They knew the value of a ticket and paid willingly. Sometimes it's a grateful audience that can make all the difference.

I feel like I owe it to you to list the musicians in case you know of them- Alex Acuna on drums and percussion, Terence Blanchard on trumpet, Paulinho da Costa percussion, Jack DeJohnette on drums, Zakir Hussain on tabla, Juanes singing, Niladri Kumar on sitar, Wayne Shorter on sax, Esperanza Spalding (HOLY SMACK) on bass, Derek Trucks guitar, Susan Tedeschi singing, Debbie Allen Dance Company dancing for a number, Vinnie Colaiuta drumming, Lionel Loueke on guitar, Pino Palladino on bass, Greg Phillanganes (don't know what he did, but it was fantastic), Kristin Train singing her arse off ("Imagine", "Don't Give Up" background vocals and more I've forgotten), India Arie singing ("Imagine") and an Irish woman singing ("Times are a Changing") but sadly I've forgotten her name. I don't know the man's name who sang 'A Change is Gonna Come' but it was fantsatic, too.

Bobbing, tapping, chair dancing, air drumming, leg playing joy. Tonight I got to witness an incredible concert and got to experience a first. I love the firsts and will figure out ways every day to continue to have them. Firsts keep life fresh and new. They give your brain a reward for you efforts, great and small. Our senses need to be reminded how exciting it is to try new things and tonight, I got to give my senses a workout of all-news.

I dig, I dig.

Please send me suggestions (via email or comments) to add to my list of 'must visit before I can't any more' venues. I'll take any excuse to travel to new places. Rewarding your senses is soul pleasing so I'm going to do it as often as I can for the rest of my life.

Spontaneous Phish Tour is coming to a close

So I was only going to go to the Greek and Telluride. Then Robin said, 'How about Deer Creek?' So we went. And Johnny said, 'How about Alpine Valley?' So we went. And Dana said, 'I'm writing to convince you to come to Jones Beach.' So I came to Jones Beach. This is the eve of the last show and oh my what a summer adventure this was.

Summer 2010 is the 15th anniversary of my first (almost full- minus Jones Beach and Memphis...) full Summer Phish tour. In said summer of 95, I had been handed a fresh degree, had decided to switch coasts and move to Oregon, knew I loved a band that made me dance like a crazy girl and was wide eyed to opening the door to adventure, knocking loudly at my chamber door. My heart pounded night after night as new thoughts, friends, worlds opened up to me. I was aware of how good life was then. I lived in the moment without even trying, some nights having tickets in the 15th row, some having lawn in a galaxy far away. But I danced and smiled and loved my choice to go.

Strangely, now 15 years later, I'm having the same experience. Older, yes, wiser, I think so. Same spirit in a body that's finding it's movement again. I've recently left Oregon to pursue my film career in LA. I've separated myself from people and things I love because leaving is hopefully smarter than staying. But the music and adventure... going without knowing I was supposed to go. No plans, no agenda, just playing it by ear and letting it happen. I had to let my summer take me away, and this summer, my mind took me on a walk across the country. New places to explore (and some old ones- but this time I had better seats), old and new people to meet, new songs to interpret and understand, new dance moves that are making me stronger every night. I'm finding myself again. I missed myself and now here I am, doing what makes me feel better than almost anything else.

Tonight I had seats in the rafters. I've been spoiled in recent years to get up closer than I ever was brave enough to go (since Summer 95!) and got to watch the boys smile and dance and play and bob and work their magic. The seats up so high gave me a perspective that I needed. A reality check of how many of us there are out there loving Phish right now. Of how beautiful it is to watch the moon rise, or the lights spell out Phish's name in a giant rainbow, or how miraculous that the fans seem to breathe in unison. Tonight I dodged ticket police, I stood in the aisle and surrendered my booty for the goodness of my life being saved by rock and roll. We shared in the final Weekapaug Groove of the summer and will remember to sleep diagonal in my bed tonight. I know why I'm not crazy for doing spontaneous Phish tour. We all have to do what makes us happy. Phish shows are my happiest place. So I go.

Leap and the net will appear, they say.

Go dance for us, cause we have to stay.

But Kelly, you're not 16 any more.

And financially, can you afford it? You're sure?

Why do you have to go night after night?

Why can't Berkeley and Telluride be alright?

Chasing the unicorns, dancing a dream,

Skipping through airports, friends on the team.

Phishbelly strikes, overwhelming energy

anticipates musicaian and crowd pleasing synergy

Finding my voice and my smile as I move

through space time continuum, finding my groove.

The years have combined, split open and melt

and I'm happier now than I remember I've felt.

Three cheers for the rhythm and rock of the band,

The music they make and precision, demand,

I'm proud I love Phish and have grown up at shows,

and I'm psyched that 'to go' was the decision I chose.

Happy One more night of Summer Tour, everybody.

Really, SO GLAD COVENTRY WAS NOT THE END.

Yahoo Summer 1995, I mean 2010.

I hope to see you again soon.

If the canyon walls could talk

It's been a while, but it feels like time again.

I'm living in Los Angeles and have been finding myself in Canyons- pushing through hot, ouch, what the heck am I doing and why am I here. These hikes have gotten me out of my house and out of by brain as I'm job searching and getting settled. I'm diggin' it here because it had been way too long since I challenged myself. No offense Portland, but Lori is right. After 15 years of living in your fair city limits, you became a Velvet Rut.

My fingers are dug into the dirt and I'm taking a 'short-cut' from the canyon floor up a hill that connects to a switch back slower ascent up the canyon. This shortcut, from the floor, looks like a climb, yes, but doesn't look that steep. Moments earlier I decided to try it and right now, I am finding myself gripping on to dried out dirt clods and loose grasses and clay falling out of my fingers and down the incline, already too far up and too determined to turn back. Finding my ego but also my confidence in a situation probably best left to people who have actually done this before.

But people who have done this before had to do this for a first time, right?

This whole LA adventure- moving here, leaving Joe dog and Marty cat, friends, ironically a beautifully remodeled house, family and friends- in all of it- I'm digging my claws in, grasping for dirt and making it up the hill.

As I'm climbing, I see 2 guys and a dog in my peripheral vision, cause I'm not looking back down. And a dog. The dog is bounding up the hill, stops to check me out, then keeps going. The 2 guys check in with me, too... 'Are you doing ok?' Feeble yes. Obligatory smile. I say, 'I've never done this before'. They, 'Runyon or this hill?' Either one ha ha ha nervously. 'It's all about confidence. Take steps and dig in. You can do it. You just have to go for it.'

So I do. And they were right. I made it up, in the end, a little bit bloody from a close encounter with a dead tree limb, stuck with burs that will probably never come out of my favorite yoga pants, panting, smiling and covered in LA dirt. But I did it. And honest to goodness, the smile that came from digging in and telling myself I could and then actually making it work, that's what this adventure is all about.

I am thankful to be finding myself in Los Angeles.