April 16, 2008
Proof
Of the family band. You can't see him, but Curtis is pretty awesome on the lap steel.
Thanks, Anne!
Thanks, Anne!
April 15, 2008
new
Hi.
I just thought I should tell you about the three new-ish songs I've posted to the music page. (Which is really a Myspace page.)
They're all demo recordings - to give you a tiny taste of what I'll be working on this summer.
They were recorded by Grant Hunnicut, who rules, and who also wrote "Don't Know What to Do" (Dear Grant, I sure hope that's what it's called, Love Liza).
Mr. Hunnicut will also be putting out a sweet compilation this summer featuring me, Josh Hryciak, Zac Hryciak, David Shultz, Matt Morton, Mat Shelton, Hershel Mehta, The Golden Band and quite a few more whose names I cannot remember. It's pretty much going to kill you in a good way.
Seriously, Grant rules.
For recording this summer, I'll be at Minimum Wage Studios with an itty bitty handful of some of my favorites around here to record a full-length. We'll talk about who is going to put it out later. As soon as I fugure it out. Yikes.
Until then, I'll be playing here and there, I'll be taking pictures, and I'll be waiting tables.
I'm sure I'll see you, if you're around.
Summer is the new Spring Break.
Bye.
I just thought I should tell you about the three new-ish songs I've posted to the music page. (Which is really a Myspace page.)
They're all demo recordings - to give you a tiny taste of what I'll be working on this summer.
They were recorded by Grant Hunnicut, who rules, and who also wrote "Don't Know What to Do" (Dear Grant, I sure hope that's what it's called, Love Liza).
Mr. Hunnicut will also be putting out a sweet compilation this summer featuring me, Josh Hryciak, Zac Hryciak, David Shultz, Matt Morton, Mat Shelton, Hershel Mehta, The Golden Band and quite a few more whose names I cannot remember. It's pretty much going to kill you in a good way.
Seriously, Grant rules.
For recording this summer, I'll be at Minimum Wage Studios with an itty bitty handful of some of my favorites around here to record a full-length. We'll talk about who is going to put it out later. As soon as I fugure it out. Yikes.
Until then, I'll be playing here and there, I'll be taking pictures, and I'll be waiting tables.
I'm sure I'll see you, if you're around.
Summer is the new Spring Break.
Bye.
Labels: music
April 12, 2008
Sunday
March 22, 2008
Please, tell me where I went to.
I have some ideas about where I've disappeared to and why. The following is a short list:
1. Winter left me sad and depressed.
2. This winter was sad and depressing.
3. Sadly, I was depressed this winter.
4. I was saddened with winter depression.
5. I was depressed by the sad winter.
I have a million things to share with both of you (as I'm sure my teeny-tiny readership may have jumped off of my sorry, little, dark ship of gloom a long time ago) but I will try to keep it brief.
1. I have not smoked in 72 days. This is huge.
I tried to quit smoking last May. I went through about one million nicotine patches, suffered through as many little circular rashes, and never really kicked the habit.
Then, smarty pants here decided to stop buying pouches of tobacco I rolled myself ($4.00/4 days) and start buying very fancy "natural" smokes ($6.00+/1.5 days) in order to teach myself some sort of lesson. I never learned it, but I did go kind of broke in the process. More on that later, though.
Finally, I said enough was enough (actually, I think it was more like "You know what? Fuck this shit!"), threw away a half a pack, searched for and destroyed any and all cigarette stuff, and that was that.
The first two weeks were weird: I was a jerk, my skin was crawling and my gums hurt, I had tunnel vision and could only think about smoking.
But now, I've got it pretty under control. No patches, no gum, no mystically magical tinctures from Ellwood's. I just really wanted to be done.
I was really ready.
Now, I'm only spending so much time on this quitting thing because it is the single most important thing I have ever and will ever do for myself. I'm not being preachy, I won't do that, but I know that for the first time ever that I can remember, I had an opportunity to improve my own lot, and I did it. I really did it and it's sticking.
I feel invincible and proud (which is something I do not throw around) and my whole life is possible.
Okay, moving on.
2. I'm writing songs again.
Some of you may remember me saying things like, "I HATE playing music!" or "I'm over this shit." It's true, I did and I was. I needed a break.
Now, I no longer say "yes" to every single show that is offered to me and it's catching on. I almost never get asked anymore.
I'm trying to play more and more infrequently - once a month tops - and lately, one of a couple of things have been happening:
- I open the show, which means that no one is really there yet (can the world have forgotten about me so soon? Jeez!)
- Or, the people putting the show on forget about it and leave town, or forget about it and give the night a pop guitarist who strums for the lord. Or is it "Lord?"
Anyhoo, that's all behind me now, kind of.
The next show will be on April 13th (Sunday) at The Camel, from 8pm-11pm with Charles Theodore and Mermaid Skeletons. It will rule you.
Oh, I'm opening so please, please come on time and show me that I'm not washed up or forgotten. It's kicking my ego in the groin, you know?
3. I got a photo studio.
Yup, for the next 4-5 months, I'll be subletting 1/2 of an amazing studio at a place that is quite coveted.
I'm very, very lucky and you will be hearing more about this later. Especially if you live in town and I like you. I'll probably want to make a picture with your face on it.
(a) I've been spending loads of time in the darkroom.
I really am very, very lucky. And grateful.
Somehow, just by knowing the right people(?), doing the right things(?), or some other reason I don't know about, I have almost endless access to probably one of the oldest darkrooms in Richmond.
It's dusty and chilly, a little bit creepy and probably home to several million crawling things, but I pretend it's mine when I'm down there. And I pretty much have it to myself. Lucky, lucky, lucky.
(b) I'm hoping to make the fruits of my labor visible to the rest of the world at a photo show sometime this summer. More about that later too.
4. I'm working on a screen play.
I know, what a dork, right?
Right. I am. But it is, kind of, all about dancing. And that makes it cool, right? eh.
That will be a summertime project, hopefully completed by the Fall.
These things are pretty slow moving, by the way - the photo show, the song writing, the script writing, the darkroom-ing.
For some really weird reason, I don't get paid to do the things I want to do just yet, so, unless I pick up an extra shift at work or find a second job, these projects are and will remain meagerly funded.
But jesus, I'm having the best time ever. Or is it "Jesus?" I never know.
I'll leave you now, with this:
1. Winter left me sad and depressed.
2. This winter was sad and depressing.
3. Sadly, I was depressed this winter.
4. I was saddened with winter depression.
5. I was depressed by the sad winter.
I have a million things to share with both of you (as I'm sure my teeny-tiny readership may have jumped off of my sorry, little, dark ship of gloom a long time ago) but I will try to keep it brief.
1. I have not smoked in 72 days. This is huge.
I tried to quit smoking last May. I went through about one million nicotine patches, suffered through as many little circular rashes, and never really kicked the habit.
Then, smarty pants here decided to stop buying pouches of tobacco I rolled myself ($4.00/4 days) and start buying very fancy "natural" smokes ($6.00+/1.5 days) in order to teach myself some sort of lesson. I never learned it, but I did go kind of broke in the process. More on that later, though.
Finally, I said enough was enough (actually, I think it was more like "You know what? Fuck this shit!"), threw away a half a pack, searched for and destroyed any and all cigarette stuff, and that was that.
The first two weeks were weird: I was a jerk, my skin was crawling and my gums hurt, I had tunnel vision and could only think about smoking.
But now, I've got it pretty under control. No patches, no gum, no mystically magical tinctures from Ellwood's. I just really wanted to be done.
I was really ready.
Now, I'm only spending so much time on this quitting thing because it is the single most important thing I have ever and will ever do for myself. I'm not being preachy, I won't do that, but I know that for the first time ever that I can remember, I had an opportunity to improve my own lot, and I did it. I really did it and it's sticking.
I feel invincible and proud (which is something I do not throw around) and my whole life is possible.
Okay, moving on.
2. I'm writing songs again.
Some of you may remember me saying things like, "I HATE playing music!" or "I'm over this shit." It's true, I did and I was. I needed a break.
Now, I no longer say "yes" to every single show that is offered to me and it's catching on. I almost never get asked anymore.
I'm trying to play more and more infrequently - once a month tops - and lately, one of a couple of things have been happening:
- I open the show, which means that no one is really there yet (can the world have forgotten about me so soon? Jeez!)
- Or, the people putting the show on forget about it and leave town, or forget about it and give the night a pop guitarist who strums for the lord. Or is it "Lord?"
Anyhoo, that's all behind me now, kind of.
The next show will be on April 13th (Sunday) at The Camel, from 8pm-11pm with Charles Theodore and Mermaid Skeletons. It will rule you.
Oh, I'm opening so please, please come on time and show me that I'm not washed up or forgotten. It's kicking my ego in the groin, you know?
3. I got a photo studio.
Yup, for the next 4-5 months, I'll be subletting 1/2 of an amazing studio at a place that is quite coveted.
I'm very, very lucky and you will be hearing more about this later. Especially if you live in town and I like you. I'll probably want to make a picture with your face on it.
(a) I've been spending loads of time in the darkroom.
I really am very, very lucky. And grateful.
Somehow, just by knowing the right people(?), doing the right things(?), or some other reason I don't know about, I have almost endless access to probably one of the oldest darkrooms in Richmond.
It's dusty and chilly, a little bit creepy and probably home to several million crawling things, but I pretend it's mine when I'm down there. And I pretty much have it to myself. Lucky, lucky, lucky.
(b) I'm hoping to make the fruits of my labor visible to the rest of the world at a photo show sometime this summer. More about that later too.
4. I'm working on a screen play.
I know, what a dork, right?
Right. I am. But it is, kind of, all about dancing. And that makes it cool, right? eh.
That will be a summertime project, hopefully completed by the Fall.
These things are pretty slow moving, by the way - the photo show, the song writing, the script writing, the darkroom-ing.
For some really weird reason, I don't get paid to do the things I want to do just yet, so, unless I pick up an extra shift at work or find a second job, these projects are and will remain meagerly funded.
But jesus, I'm having the best time ever. Or is it "Jesus?" I never know.
I'll leave you now, with this:
Labels: friends, music, photography, smoking
September 03, 2007
Dear Diary,
DAY ONE
We hit traffic about 2 seconds after getting on the highway. I thought Rick was exaggerating his confusion about where all the cars might have come from, so I told him to "shut up." He hasn't talked to me since.
Ahhhhh, New York. I thought that, by now, I'd have a good idea about what to expect from you. But you are mysterious and fickle and, quite frankly, I'm over it.
Are you in a band on tour? Do want to play an awesome show in NYC on a Saturday night? Do you want to get new fans? Sell some records? Get some gas money? Experience that awesome glow of self-respect the morning after?
We can't help you.
DAY TWO
Leaving New York took almost no time and was actually pretty easy. I'll take that as a sign.
Rick did an impersonation of Marlon Brando singing a Leonard Cohen song. It was okay, but I refuse to encourage this madness.
At least we weren't listening to the spoken word CD that's in German. None of us speak German. I've never felt so "on drugs" without drugs before listening to it.
We played the Alphabet game to ease tension between us. Y'know, one person says "apple," the next person says "apple, banana," and so on. It's kind of a wholesome game. But we soiled it with our dirty minds and invented combinations that, in hindsight, make me sick to my stomach. Rick nearly killed us while trying to come up with a shitty limerick with the old over-the-curb-and-into-the-gas pump manuever. And now, there is more tension.
Maine smelled and looked amazing the second we entered. Even the crossword puzzle I was working on got easier. We passed one beautiful and dreamy old structure after another and I've decided that New England has never let me down and that this was no exception.
My only complaint is the golf ball sized bruise on the top of my left foot. I must have done something while trying to get comfortable in the back seat. I think I'm the only person in the world who gets hurt relaxing
And Portland couldn't be anymore sweet looking. I arrived with certain expectations about what I was to see - old people missing some digits, "poverty," etc. But those things weren't around. It has kind of an eastern "Northen Exposure" feel. It made me wish I could star in a TV dramedy.
We stayed with some friends in a wonderful apartment with sky lights and shiny wooden floors. Basically, I'm kind of blind, but I think it's making me hallucinate, which is awesome.
A call home confirmed my poor dog's diarrhea. I imagine him wandering around and looking for me. Enough of that. My heart is breaking.
The show we played was quiet and cute and in the teeny, tiniest book store that ever lived. One person absolutely fell asleep while I was playing and Bobby insisted that he almost passed out as well. He swore it wasn't boredom, but he said it with a lot of "fuck off" in his eyes.
A million thank yous to South China, by the way.
DAY THREE
Woke to the sun in my eyes and it was kind of glorious - even after I told Bobby I was the one that punched him in the night while he was snoring. Jerusha made us delicious breakfast and took us to Casco Bay. Now, even though this was my very first time there, I recognized it as being Maine in about one second.
We walked on soft grass, kicked around in the water, smiled at each other - it felt like a wonderful, sunny summer afternoon. Our own private afternoon with hundreds of sailboats off in the distance. Oh, and hundreds of people encroaching on our property - and hundreds of cars driving around, and - well, it felt very private anyway.
I might have actually managed a few personless photos. We'll see.
Labor Day traffic sucks. It will suck forever. Aside from worrying that Courtney might vomit on me, though, the ride was completely bearable. Hell, even when you leave the place, they have two lost souls wearing a lobster and a moose costume and they pass out cookie cutters. What's not to love?
More later.
We hit traffic about 2 seconds after getting on the highway. I thought Rick was exaggerating his confusion about where all the cars might have come from, so I told him to "shut up." He hasn't talked to me since.
Ahhhhh, New York. I thought that, by now, I'd have a good idea about what to expect from you. But you are mysterious and fickle and, quite frankly, I'm over it.
Are you in a band on tour? Do want to play an awesome show in NYC on a Saturday night? Do you want to get new fans? Sell some records? Get some gas money? Experience that awesome glow of self-respect the morning after?
We can't help you.
DAY TWO
Leaving New York took almost no time and was actually pretty easy. I'll take that as a sign.
Rick did an impersonation of Marlon Brando singing a Leonard Cohen song. It was okay, but I refuse to encourage this madness.
At least we weren't listening to the spoken word CD that's in German. None of us speak German. I've never felt so "on drugs" without drugs before listening to it.
We played the Alphabet game to ease tension between us. Y'know, one person says "apple," the next person says "apple, banana," and so on. It's kind of a wholesome game. But we soiled it with our dirty minds and invented combinations that, in hindsight, make me sick to my stomach. Rick nearly killed us while trying to come up with a shitty limerick with the old over-the-curb-and-into-the-gas pump manuever. And now, there is more tension.
Maine smelled and looked amazing the second we entered. Even the crossword puzzle I was working on got easier. We passed one beautiful and dreamy old structure after another and I've decided that New England has never let me down and that this was no exception.
My only complaint is the golf ball sized bruise on the top of my left foot. I must have done something while trying to get comfortable in the back seat. I think I'm the only person in the world who gets hurt relaxing
And Portland couldn't be anymore sweet looking. I arrived with certain expectations about what I was to see - old people missing some digits, "poverty," etc. But those things weren't around. It has kind of an eastern "Northen Exposure" feel. It made me wish I could star in a TV dramedy.
We stayed with some friends in a wonderful apartment with sky lights and shiny wooden floors. Basically, I'm kind of blind, but I think it's making me hallucinate, which is awesome.
A call home confirmed my poor dog's diarrhea. I imagine him wandering around and looking for me. Enough of that. My heart is breaking.
The show we played was quiet and cute and in the teeny, tiniest book store that ever lived. One person absolutely fell asleep while I was playing and Bobby insisted that he almost passed out as well. He swore it wasn't boredom, but he said it with a lot of "fuck off" in his eyes.
A million thank yous to South China, by the way.
DAY THREE
Woke to the sun in my eyes and it was kind of glorious - even after I told Bobby I was the one that punched him in the night while he was snoring. Jerusha made us delicious breakfast and took us to Casco Bay. Now, even though this was my very first time there, I recognized it as being Maine in about one second.
We walked on soft grass, kicked around in the water, smiled at each other - it felt like a wonderful, sunny summer afternoon. Our own private afternoon with hundreds of sailboats off in the distance. Oh, and hundreds of people encroaching on our property - and hundreds of cars driving around, and - well, it felt very private anyway.
I might have actually managed a few personless photos. We'll see.
Labor Day traffic sucks. It will suck forever. Aside from worrying that Courtney might vomit on me, though, the ride was completely bearable. Hell, even when you leave the place, they have two lost souls wearing a lobster and a moose costume and they pass out cookie cutters. What's not to love?
More later.
Labels: friends, music, stories, tour
April 30, 2007
On Moving
In short, that isn't happening.
I was informed today by the Associate Director of the Center for Latin American Studies that the verdict is in - I won't be moving back to Gainesville this fall.
He encouraged me to try again next year and I'm sure I will.
So that's it. It's a little relieving because I can make more plans regarding my immediate future without wondering if I'll be here to follow through.
So far, those plans include:
1. A tour in August with these sweet people. It isn't clear yet whether I'll be touring as "Liza Kate The Folk Rock Icon and Legend" and a member of their band, or as JUST a member of their band.
I could care less either way - let's go now!
2. Studio photography. I've spent a little time learning how to be a studio photographer's assistant. Not necessarily an assistant in general, but a perfectly shaped and molded assistant to just one fella. As soon as he gets work that requires an assistant, I'll be that person.
Now that I'm staying in town, helping teach a class this fall at VCU is imminent.
Maybe.
3. Some photography of my own. I'm submitting about 1 million photographs to many different publications, galleries, and contests (see below). I would love to have a CV that is, if not impressive, then really, REALLY long.
Also, I'm completely interested in sharing a space big and cheap enough to set up a studio.
In Richmond, the "cheap" part alone files this under "yeah right!"
4. Amassing a nest egg. Not for forever, mind you - just for a trip that might take me and boo to Portugal and Spain? Mexico? Dominican Republic? Montana? Alabama?
I'll have to focus on the strength and girth of the nest egg first.
5. Recording. I have plans for this. It might even be available by the time number 1 happens. That's all I can say about it now.
6. Writing. Songs, stories, letters, thank you cards to people who never got them a year ago when they should have, apologies along with some presents to some other people who should have gotten those presents in February, etc.
Of course, that could have been happening all along - moving or not, but since I no longer have the "well, I was trying to figure out all this 'moving to Florida' stuff and blah" crap that I should be famous for, I figure I should hop to it.
So, friends - If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of quiet and nice places that could help make #1 a victory for our team, please let me know. We're thinking the East Coast and the Mid-West.
Also, if you read #6 while gritting your teeth and throwing darts at a picture of my face on your wall - I'm working on it, I promise! It's just, y'know, I was almost moving once.
I was informed today by the Associate Director of the Center for Latin American Studies that the verdict is in - I won't be moving back to Gainesville this fall.
He encouraged me to try again next year and I'm sure I will.
So that's it. It's a little relieving because I can make more plans regarding my immediate future without wondering if I'll be here to follow through.
So far, those plans include:
1. A tour in August with these sweet people. It isn't clear yet whether I'll be touring as "Liza Kate The Folk Rock Icon and Legend" and a member of their band, or as JUST a member of their band.
I could care less either way - let's go now!
2. Studio photography. I've spent a little time learning how to be a studio photographer's assistant. Not necessarily an assistant in general, but a perfectly shaped and molded assistant to just one fella. As soon as he gets work that requires an assistant, I'll be that person.
Now that I'm staying in town, helping teach a class this fall at VCU is imminent.
Maybe.
3. Some photography of my own. I'm submitting about 1 million photographs to many different publications, galleries, and contests (see below). I would love to have a CV that is, if not impressive, then really, REALLY long.
Also, I'm completely interested in sharing a space big and cheap enough to set up a studio.
In Richmond, the "cheap" part alone files this under "yeah right!"
4. Amassing a nest egg. Not for forever, mind you - just for a trip that might take me and boo to Portugal and Spain? Mexico? Dominican Republic? Montana? Alabama?
I'll have to focus on the strength and girth of the nest egg first.
5. Recording. I have plans for this. It might even be available by the time number 1 happens. That's all I can say about it now.
6. Writing. Songs, stories, letters, thank you cards to people who never got them a year ago when they should have, apologies along with some presents to some other people who should have gotten those presents in February, etc.
Of course, that could have been happening all along - moving or not, but since I no longer have the "well, I was trying to figure out all this 'moving to Florida' stuff and blah" crap that I should be famous for, I figure I should hop to it.
So, friends - If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of quiet and nice places that could help make #1 a victory for our team, please let me know. We're thinking the East Coast and the Mid-West.
Also, if you read #6 while gritting your teeth and throwing darts at a picture of my face on your wall - I'm working on it, I promise! It's just, y'know, I was almost moving once.
Labels: "yeah right", music, photography
April 24, 2007
bye bye
A photo by: the life of liza.
Well, the boo is gone for a little bit.
I'll be a little less inspired to cook, clean, and sleep, but mostly him leaving means I'll get to catch up with myself and with our little stinker dogs.
The very first thing that happens almost everytime Curtis leaves with a bag of clothes, is a very curious thing indeed.
His dog Kodi, you see, is about 200 years old and barks and grumbles to himself when a car door closes 2 miles away.
On a normal day, I might try, in vain, to shush him. This isn't exactly because I find it completely annoying after about twenty minutes, mind you.
You may or may not know all of the ways in which our neighbor has terrorized us - the glasstop patio table barracade at the foot of our stairs, the evil "kill your doges" [sp] message scrawled onto our chalkboard, topped with a bit of spit, the murdering of our potted plants, etc.
Basically, the man is erratic and terrifying, and I see no reason to provoke him.
Curtis, on the other hand, does everything but give little Kodi treats when he's having one of his freak attacks. So, when he goes out of town, Kodi knows he has lost a team member.
What I'm expecting to find on the kitchen floor one of these days when I return from work, or, if I'm really lucky, I'll come upon it half asleep one morning, is the strangest pile of dog doo you can imagine.
It won't just a big healthy pile designed to make me feel bad for sleeping in, nor will it be a tiny little "oopsie" that he forgot to get rid of the last time we went out - no, it's much worse.
It will be an intricate and involved pattern made up of many different shapes - stalagmites, "tomb stones," rain drops, flower petals and clogs, to name a few - strewn all about in what looks like a chaotic explosion, but I know better.
He's communicating.
I'm not sure yet what means what, but I'm onto him.
Sometime this week, if my calculations are correct (they are), I'm going to wake up or come home to some sort of message left to me by old man Kodi.
It might be a death threat, it might be a thank you note, who knows?
But it will be the start of my dog doo deciphering. (I bought a new journal for it and everything.)
Soon, the world will know all about the canine ABCs, 123s, F.U.s, and so on.
This isn't just another one of my "get rich quick" schemes. I intend to collect some serious data.
I'll have my findings published in pamphlet form and rock the scientific community at it's core.
Stay tuned.
Labels: boo, friends, music, stories
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