OBSESSED!

Joan Baez gives awesome hugs.

2008-11-14T14:40:00.002-06:00

On Wednesday afternoon, the better part of my work day soundtrack was provided by hype machine as I listened to every single Joan Baez song the site had available. "Yep, yep, yep" ran through my mind, song after song, as I worked. I knew these songs, quiet soundtracks to my life. Honestly, I still couldn't tell you the titles of them, but they were there in my mind, resurrected by modern technology in my sterile work environment, taking me back to my childhood, my mom's childhood, my grandma's.

As she sung to me and I typed, it still wasn't real what was going to happen. We were going to get to meet Joan Baez.

Stacy, Andrea and I made a picture, an homage to her famous print. Dressed in puffy skirts and vintage dresses, we sat stoically on Stacy's red leather couch with a guitar and an old fashioned camera. I sat up bone straight, lifting my leg slightly to try to get the perfect, non-cellulite angle.

"You look angry," my roommate said as he looked at my face in the poster. "I am," I thought. I kept that to myself at the moment.

Last Tuesday, girls and boys everywhere said yes to Obama and my poster hangs prominently on my bedroom door. I couldn't keep the joy to myself as I clapped and cheered, hugging my election night date with tears streaming down my face.

I picked the girls up last night and drove into downtown Minneapolis. Parking in a garage, we walked the wrong way out the door. Typical for me. We ran around the block, joking about how anti-climactic it would be if we got there too late and she had already left or was sleeping or something. None of us had actual tickets to the show, just after-show backstage passes. Andrea had worked her connections and we were going to get arguably the most influential woman in folk music, shake her hand, thank her, give her our poster. We stood in the vast State Theatre lobby, pressing our ears against the door, quietly rambling, clutching our posters and albums, listening to the last fifteen minutes of her show. The audience clapped and cheered and the doors opened. We watched as people streamed out. A young guy with shaggy hair saw the three of us and said "we gotta be the youngest in here by about thirty years."

"Yeah," we all said.

"Kick ass music knows no age," he replied with a huge smile.

That's true.

The girls and I walked down the aisle, still nervously rambling. We flashed our wristbands and were told directions on where to go meet Joan Baez. We walked down several stairwells into the basement of the State, not exactly sure if we were headed the right way. I began to get REALLY nervous and resorted back to my old reliable comfort: cracking jokes.

"This is exactly like Spinal Tap" or "This is exactly like the time I went into the basement of the Fine Line to meet the Neil Diamond cover band." All facetious, obviously, but I just didn't know what else to say. It was becoming real.

We stood in this large, sterile room that glowed with neon lights. I looked at the couch, the two vending machines, the loaf of bread and apples on the table, taking it all in. A small crowd milled about for a moment.

"There she is," Stacy smiled.

My back was turned to the door and I whipped around.

The three of us looked. Joan Baez was small, dark skinned, white hair. She was simply and stylishly dressed in dark blue jeans and white button up shirt with a silver bangle. I thought of my mom and how a student teacher of hers once told her she looked like a young Joan Baez. I thought of my mom.

Her tour manager took our poster over to her as she hugged this couple and their young girl. I suddenly felt overwhelmed with embarrassment and turned back around. "Joan Baez is going to think this is stupid. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god," I thought. My mind was racing.

She quickly walked over to us and we handed her a pile of our posters. "Are these for me?" she asked. "Yep." We introduced ourselves. I felt my mouth move and heard my voice ring in my ears as I said my name. Everything was heightened. She put the posters away and went down the line, hugging us three girls. She got to me last and I stood up my tippy toes, even though I didn't really need to. She is shorter than I. "Thank you so much," I whispered as I wrapped my arms around her.

I didn't know what else to say, my nerves overcame me and my voice was caught in my throat, so I mostly stood there, with a huge grin on my face, shaking my head a lot. Andrea stood there grinning silently as well. Stacy took the reigns of the conversation, telling her the story of how our poster came to be, how much we had been influenced by what she had done. She told us how she had seen the photo on the net and I immediately thought about how cool that was. Her speaking voice was quiet. She was so graceful and unassuming.

"Saying yes across generations," she said to us, smiling. I said it over and over again in my head. "I can't forget this," I thought. And I might have a little. That might not be exactly what she said. My mind was too full at that moment.

"We loved your photo," Stacy said. "We were just having fun," she replied. "So were we!" we all replied together. Andrea and I found our voice for that one.

She signed our records and we stood in line for a photo with Joan Baez. Her tour manager held Stacy's camera and the flash fired three times. I made no ridiculous Jonesie face and didn't crack any jokes. I just stood there, still smiling.

Stacy, Andrea and I said goodbye, thanked her again, and ran up the stairs, out into the mild November night, giggling about how awesome all this was. When we got back into my car, Stacy and Andrea flipped through the photos and Andrea laughed "look how happy we are!"

When I got home, I gingerly placed the signed Joan Baez album on the shelf against my favorite corner in my bright yellow room, under my kitschy framed camera wearing wiener dog lp, next to my framed Jason Isbell and Hoot posters and my two Bruce Springsteen photo prints, next to my Obama postcard with the "I Voted" red sticker pressed against it.

There it sits, Joan Baez's signature in bright green permanent marker. Whenever I doubt that this experience happened, I can just look at that album, look at the photo, and remember how real that night was when I met Joan Baez.

I am SO happy!

2008-11-04T12:17:00.018-06:00

It happened...IT REALLY HAPPENED! I am so proud of my country right now! This was a global victory. This was one of the best nights of my life!

PRESIDENT BARACK OBAMA!

The Rising was written by Bruce in response to 9/11. It was the first song I heard live and the first Springsteen show I saw in August of 2002. It has taken on a new meaning, a new message and means something more powerful and cathartic now more than ever.

I was so scared. But we did it!

YES WE CAN! AND WE DID!

HAPPY HALLOWIENERSTEEN!

2008-10-31T11:45:00.003-05:00

Um.
Hell.
Yes.

CUTENESS!
HOTNESS!
HILARIOUSNESS!
AWESOMENESS!

I've got a looooooooooooooooot of demons that Bruce could go ahead and exorcise. Anywhere he wants. GROWL! QUACK! GROWL!

It's true.

2008-10-29T23:33:00.007-05:00

Cause of Joan Baez, this happened...

Then, cause of some ladies over at Nerve, this happened...

Then, cause my friends are radical and creative and hopeful, a few of us got together last night and this happened...

Now we're on this usual and that usual and this and this and this and THIS.

I'm proud of this replication and, most importantly, so very hopeful.

Now, cause this NEVER gets old...

November 4th. I've never been so excited to vote in my entire life.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BOOTY!

2008-09-18T10:22:00.005-05:00

As birthday present number 1, I present to you a pictoral display of words that make me think of you, my one true Booty/Buttplug/Brian/BriGuyFryGuyRiGuy...

Who would have thought that nine years ago, when you, the lanky closeted freakshow pervert, turned around in disgust at me, that Terri Schiavo faced loudmouthed pervert, a friendship of monumental faghaggatry proportions would develop? i sure as hell didn't.

And I think you know what I mean by monumental? Your dad. Your mom. Your dog. Would you rather? For a million dollars. BOOTY! BIRTHDAY!

Because I leave my current job in three days...

2008-09-18T10:22:00.003-05:00

How did you get one of your scars?
Weird dark spotty scratch scars on my arms from when I was thrown onto asphault from a speeding golf cart...I still love you, Staciann.

How did you celebrate your last birthday?
I LOVE BIRTHDAYS, especially cause one of my dearest otter friends has the same birthday as mine. We went birthday dress shopping at Rosedale mall (blech, though I found the greatest dress ever), then to listen to Romantica (le sigh) and Heiruspecs (where I practically wet myself during War Drums) at an outdoor festival, then to snacks and drinks at Whiteys, then to dancing at The Front, then sleeping, then to a salad bar lunch with Twinkie where we told horribly inappropriate stories and had a grapes-fit-in-mouth contest, then to dinner at that mexican restaurant on nicollet that gives free giant margaritas on your birthday, then to trivia. And I still managed to be on time to work on Monday.

How are you feeling at this moment?
Anxious and pretty awesome

How did your night go last night?
I went to bed at 10:45 and slept through the night. Much needed rest. It was great.

How did you do in high school?
Well. I was the manager of the scholar bowl team AND a theatre nerd. And my parents both taught at the high school. I didn't have much of a choice but to work my (not) little a** off.

How did you get the shirt you're wearing?
It's a dress. And I got it in Barcelona. It feels like a nightgown, thus I love it. I just realized I'm wearing the exact same outfit I was wearing when I yaked in the airport on the way to Massuchusettes. Good times.

How often do you see ur best friends?
A couple times a year. Not enough.

How much money did you spend last month?
Not a ton, which makes me proud. Cause that month last year, known as "the jonesie dark period", I had royally screwed myself.

How old do you want to be when you get married?
Younger than 70 years old

How old will you be at your next birthday?
28

NINE WHAT'S:

Your mothers name?
Vicki

What did you do last weekend?
FINALLY watched Lars and the Real Girl, walked the pup, City on the Make at triple rock, helped Genna pick out furniture, got my watch fixed and bought my favorite Calvin Klein bra that was on super sale, went to a photo studio party, ate brunch at triple rock and got drunk off of one bloody mary, had my ass gloriously rocked by Balkan Beat Box at the Cedar.

What is the most important part of your life?
My people. And music.

What would you rather be doing?
Roadtripping to a Bruce show with the windows down and the tunes blaring

What did you last cry over?
My sister REALLY pissed me off but my mom had my back. Jonesie Family dynamics!

What always makes you feel better when you’re upset?
My people. And music.

What’s the most important thing you look for in a significant other?
A tight ass and a fat wallet. His dad.

Ohhhhh...jk.

He gets me. And makes me laugh.

What are you worried about?
Money. My camera. My grandpa.

What did you have for breakfast?
Coffee and granola

EIGHT HAVE YOU’S:
Have you ever liked someone who had a girlfriend/boyfriend?
Oh puuuuuuuuuuuhlease b*tch, that's like my motus operatus. Don't worry, ladies. I never do anything about it. It's not really real anyway.

Have you ever had your heartbroken?
No...which I think is probably more depressing...

Have you ever been out of the country?
Canada, England, Greece, Turkey, France, Spain, Portugal. Barcelona was my favorite.

Have you ever done something outrageously dumb?
This week? I dropped my new phone in the toilet as I was flushing.

Have you ever been back stabbed by a friend?
Yes. And I still haven't forgavin her. Don't cross that line with me.

Have you ever had sex on the beach?
The drink? Yes. The thang? No. But both would be nice right now. Work is dull. My fantasies are not.

Have you ever dated someone older than you?
If you use the term "dated" verrrrrrrrrry loosely, then yes.

Have you ever read an entire book in one day?
Yes. Pedal Pusher was a life saver when I came back from Missouri after my sister's wedding and dove into "Jonesie Meltdown" territory.

SEVEN WHO’S:

Who was the last person you saw?
My manager

Who was the last person you texted?
Genna

Who was the last person you hungout with?
Jess and Jen for our reality tv wednesday night chipotle extravaganza

Who was the last person to call you?
Shaly...the answer will most likely always be Shaly!

Who did you last hug?
Your dad's d*ck.

And Sampson the minpin I'm dogsitting for!

Who is the last person who texted you?
Genna...we'z gotz to get into seeing The Roots and Heiruspecs this weekend!

Who was the last person you said "i love you" to?
my mother

SIX WHERE’S:

Where does your best friend live?
Kansas City, Missouri
Detroit, Michigan
NYC, New York

Where did you last go?
the bathroom

Where did you last hang out?
Jen's place for said extravaganza

Where do you go to school?
St. Olaf and National Theater Institute

Where is your favorite place to be?
At a really killer show

Where did you sleep last night?
I'm a glorified vagrant right now. I slept in Paul and Vanessa's bed while they're kicking it at a cabin in Northern California. Run by a guy named Dolphin. God, yes.

FIVE DO’S/DOES:

Do you like someone right now?
Yes. And more than just your dads.

Do you think anyone likes you?
I don't know.

Do you ever wish you were someone else?
Sometimes, yeah.

Do you know the muffin man?
"This muffin tastes like p*ssy." I miss you, Noah.

Does the future scare you?
Yes. And excites me.

FOUR WHY’S:

Why are you best friends with your best friends?
Because they get me. And don't judge me. And unconditionally love me. And they make me laugh. And we talk for hours about everything and nothing.

Why did you get a myspace?
To keep in contact with all my out of state people, to keep up with touring bands, to f*ck cyberbots.

Why did your parents give you the name you have?
Mary because it was a tradition in my dad's foster family, Alexandra because it's Russian. I go by a shortened version my middle name and have my entire life (because my family wanted to keep the tradition but didn't want a daughter called Mary Jones. Thank you, family.) Don't call me Mary, unless you're Bruce Springsteen singing about screen doors slamming or calling me the Queen of Arkansas.

Why are you doing this survey?
Because I'm sticking it to the man and am crazy excited to go back to my old department at the U and out to lunch with my ChocoBono, Ian.

THREE IF’S:

If you could have one super power what would it be??
Flying

If you could go back in time would you?
Yes...Mainpoint, Philly, September 1975.

If u were stranded on a deserted island & could bring 1 thing what would you bring?
KITTY CAT BLANKET!

TWO WOULD-YOU-EVER’S:

Would you ever eat a spoon full of cinnamon?
Um, yes.

Would you ever shave your head to save someone you love?
Um, yes.

ONE LAST QUESTION

Are you happy with your life right now?
Yes. And even more happy about where I could go from here.

Why Obama?

2008-09-12T13:59:00.003-05:00

My current facebook picture...

I wrote a letter to a high school classmate of mine, a man I haven't spoken to in almost ten years, who, as it turns out, did not want to ridicule and just wanted to pick my brain. Extremly glad he asked because it helped me to organize my thoughts...

His email:

Hey, just noticed your profile pic and that you had joined an obama volunteer group... it seems Obama and Biden have become a little discombobulated (I have no idea if that's a real word, but it works perfectly) in the last week or so, and the McCain camp seem to be keeping them on the defensive. What do you think Obama should do to get his balance back? What would you tell him if you were his advisor?

Just curious.

John

My response:

First and foremost, I'm not a political advisor and would never have any desire to become one. I'm a photographer, a writer and a temp worker at a University. It's just me and I work extremely hard in my day to day life to do what I love, stay afloat, stay healthy & be a good person. You probably do t0o. From my perspective, Obama and Biden have NOT become discombobulated (it is a real word.) They are just fighting back against the accusations/inconsistent proclamations/holier-than-thou archaic rhetoric and lies from the McCain/Palin show-pony camp. They remain consistent, representing the same positions, values and beliefs they have supported from the beginning. Maybe Obama and Biden are defensive, but when most of the current media coverage is about Palin, her life as a hockey mom, her ridiculous clichés about lipstick wearing pitbulls, and her pregnant teenage daughter, then they have every right to passionately defend their policies and choices. Because THAT is what politics should be about and THAT is what serious media should cover. I watch reality television for ridiculously ludicrous entertainment; I don't need nor do I want that in my leaders.

For the first time in AT LEAST the past eight years, I see a potential leader for our country who represents strength, intelligence and character. You, by claiming to suck start a shotgun if Barack Hussein Obama is elected, obviously don't. You wanna know how I see it? If McCain/Palin is elected, I absolutely fear the path this country and our citizens could go down. So what? So, we go to war with Iran/Russia/etc as more civilians and soldiers die in Iraq? The economy continues to spiral out of control, gas prices continue to rise and we head into a deep depression? We become more and more polarized as citizens become more and more angry about the direction this nation is headed (I, as a Minneapolis/St. Paul resident, have seen this in the flesh as I worked my way through the crowded streets, packed concert venues and impassioned parades during the RNC, all while sick with a massive cold and dealing with the fact that my car was stolen from in front of my house)? I'm not saying Obama is perfect, that he will immediately fix this country that DOES need repair, but he has ideas, ideas that I believe in. Realistic ideas about the current state of our nation and EVERY person, in and outside of the United States. I for one would like to walk through foreign lands, with an exchange rate that isn't absolutely absurd, and hold my head high and proud (because I wish I had a nickel for every time I heard a foreigner say "if only we could vote in your election, Obama would be a guarantee"); go to the doctor when I sprain my ankle or go to the dentist when I have a toothache and not pay through the roof for JUST catastrophic even though I work up towards 60 hours a week (much of that work is my photography...more of that is my temp work...and I don't even mind when my tax money goes towards helping citizens when they need it...especially when taxes are fair and even and based on income); attend the weddings of my best friends who are gay, want to celebrate their love, and need legal support for their partners; protect my own body and have a choice should I ever need it; not see my (maybe) future children get drafted into another pointless war; etc. etc. etc. McCain represents more of the same, which is not working for this country, and Palin represents nothing except an "abstinence only" sex education program, which obviously worked extremely well for her family. I'm not scared of a black man with the middle name Hussein running our country; I would be HONORED to have him lead us.

Are you really just curious? If you sent me an email to start a friendly debate, fine and great. I can stand behind that. Before this, there was basically one topic that I felt comfortable talking about it with people I barely knew, and that topic was music, live and recorded. But in the past few years, because I have never felt stronger about a candidate, I HAVE gained the confidence to verbally and loudly show my support for Obama. It's difficult but I am slowly and surely gaining the self-confidence required to stand up and be proud of the person I am and strive to become, own my opinions and my beliefs about humanity, my future, the nation's future, the world's future. If you meant to somehow ridicule me, then this exchange is absolutely futile because we are both obviously passionate about our beliefs, and I am a strong person too.

In short, as a citizen of this country and a person that greatly looks up to Obama, I would tell him to forge on and continue to remain strong and consistent, because there is a million person army of everyday citizens who believe in the future of this country and thoroughly support him as our next president.

Peace,
Alexa

Am I a dog person or a cat person?

2008-08-22T00:51:00.004-05:00

That question is no longer hard for me to answer. At all.

It's been a long summer. And Ginger, regardless, I'll always love you, wherever you are.

I cannot wait until I can someday pick up my puppy.

We were at the races. I could give two shits about the horses. But those little dogs. Those ridiculous pretzel dogs that are half a dog tall and two and a half dogs long have had my heart for a loooooong time, longer than Bruce, any guy I've ever liked, not as long as my family but, y'know, I was in 8th grade when I said "I can't decide what I want. A wiener dog or a dachshund" and to quote Morgan when I actually said "what if I didn't actually get a wiener dog" and she said "well your entire life would be a lie."

We were at the races. And number 12 didn't run like the other dogs. She just sat herself down in the dirt. She didn't follow any of the others. She didn't even follow her owner. She just plopped her booty down. All stubborn and willful.

And I totally said "THAT will be my dog."

Someday!

I'm gonna be an auntie!!!!!

2008-08-13T17:01:00.003-05:00

No, Nattie is not pregnant. BUT MORGIE IS (and she is most definitely as good as a sister to me)! SOUL SISTAH!

Meet baby Eleanor or Jonah Perry...

I'm already perusing rebellious baby sites for rocker onesies.

I miss my high school girls.

2008-07-25T18:25:00.002-05:00

Liz got married last month on a farm down in Northfield, her hometown. On a small budget, she threw an amazing party, surrounded by those from every part of her life. She is lucky enough to be close by to so many people she grew up with and unspeakably far from others. But she and Wil are adventure seekers and already planning their next move.

There's a new member of the Jones family...

2008-07-24T08:36:00.004-05:00

My parents have been on the edge of buying a new puppy as a friend for Fanny and further amusement for them...until now. Last week I got this email from my mother...

Subj: Because your dad is certifiable

Body: since he bought this piglet (see below). The little pig thinks that Fanny is her mother, and tries to suckle the terrified rat terrier. There is never a dull moment in this house.

They asked my what they should name it. I said Winston if it's a boy and Lucy if it's a girl. Lucy, it is. My parents can't shut up about Lucy and I love asking about her. According to reports from my mom and dad, apparently Lucy:

a) Loves to play fight with Fanny, who has warmed up to the piglet. Fanny is obviously bigger so has the upper hand (paw/hoof.) For now. Just give it a few months you holy adorable terror (haha...terror sounds like terrier...haha. WORDPLAY! Haha, I'm lame.)
b) Is more potty trained than Fanny. Lucy will go outside immediately. My parents were very proud of that.
c) Loves to root around in blankets/hay and burrow her little heart out. Even more so than the beloved rat terrier.
d) Will follow behind my dad, trying with all her might to keep up, as he walks Fanny up and down the hill.
e) Has become a inside/outside pig. She sleeps in a crate in the basement. They're hoping she's a pot-belly but I don't think it really matters.
f) Will be bestest friends forever and ever with Fanny, holy adorable terrior.

Fanny and Lucy's friendship is DEFINITELY a children's story waiting to happen. Like...they've met, developed an immediate connection. They've become best friends, even though their differences are unique and vast. Fanny, the wild beast, will be ostracized from the family after causing too much destruction. In an attempt to separate them, my father will starting wielding animated shotguns. Though Fanny & Lucy love each other and want to remain bestest friends for all of enternity, their differences ultimately tear them apart and they sing a heart breaking ditty that has tears streaming from a 27 year old girl's face.

Rahrrahrrahrr-ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, quoteth Lucy.

Hey Mama, I know I act a fool but, I promise you I'm goin back to school, quoteth Fanny.

Then Fanny will indeed go back to school, join a sorority, earn a law degree from Harvard and show all of us that we completed underestimated her.

FANNY POWER!

Spring Break 2009: GHANA!

2008-07-11T10:05:00.005-05:00

This is another song on the Bi-Annual Jonesie mix. This song often blares out of my car speakers when I want a joyful release. This video just surfaced in the past few days. The part around the fire. Hot. Everything about it makes me very VERY happy.

The first time I saw M.anifest perform was at the First Ave Best New Bands Showcase. My mind was blown so hard that I somehow managed to wave my hands in the air WHILST taking pictures. It was an embarrassingly awesome sight to be seen.

Also, he's hot. Super hot. And super smart. And super nice. Hot.

My mom's contract was renewed at the high school (big mess, very low funds for public schools (thanks G Dubs), lots of familial crabbiness)and she let me know this by telling me that they could indeed afford to have me get married this year (haha...funny...not gonna happen, SO not even close, though a fiance would be nice right now mainly cause I need a dude to put in my AC.) Then she realized that I'm not my sister, I won't be having a traditional wedding (whenever it happens in the next 1-7 decades) and retracted it by saying "or you know, a destination wedding."

DESTINATION=GHANA!

Just kidding, M.anifest, please don't be creeped out by me. Seriously, I kid! I kid! Besides, I'm too insecure about relationships to allow them to happen, though a Ghana fantasy seems awfully nice right now!!

Bi-Annual Jonesie Mix Means She's Still Breathing...

2008-07-06T01:51:00.003-05:00

June was a crazy month. Top ten, in short...

1) My sister got married. It was amazing and beautiful and intense. My dad did a booty dance to Drop It Like It Hot at the reception. One of the best moments of my life.

2) I bawled for a week straight when I got back from Missouri. We're talking fetal position and pacing bawling. Sometimes, I miss my family and my home city so much that it hurts. Regardless, I still know I could never happily live in Kansas City.

3) I'm back working at the U. Thank god. I still miss my old department like mad and am trying like crazy to get back there. We shall see...

4) I moved out of WonderTwin Manor and am currently subleasing G's Palace until September. With a cat. After Ginger passed away, I became MUCH LESS of a cat person. Also, I miss air conditioning, though sleeping nakie every night is fun.

5) Photography is going extraordinarily well. Getting lots of great gigs through bands and the newspaper. Also, I was a multiple choice option, alongside my mentors, for 89.3's The Local Show on who was the in-house photographer for First Ave. Holy Sh*t! Yes, I still realize I have a helluva long way to go.

6) I shot the Drive-By Truckers at First Ave last week. Though they've become much less radical with the loss of Jason Isbell, it still blew my mind when I finally heard Zip City live. So much so that I HAD to find one of my people to experience it with. Kyle was hidden. Jim had run off. Luckily, I spotted the hat and ran up to Swardson with my shit eating grin and yelled out "THIS IS ONE OF MY ALL TIME FAVORITE SONGS!" Also, It sort of dawned on me how lucky I am. I got into music photography not knowing how I would do it or what I was doing or where I was going and there I was with my camera in the barred off area right in front of a sold out crowd in one of my favorite venues in the nation, my face against the stage, as my idols tore it apart a foot away from me. I'm not slowing down any time soon.

Drive-By Truckers @ First Ave 7-2-08
Originally uploaded by Alexa Jones

7) This madness is on YouTube. Taken out of context of the play and not knowing me, yes, I do realize how bat shit crazy I look. But I'm still really proud of that madness. And the naysayers can continue naysaying. Because I KNOW how lucky I am to have experienced this. So go on and call me annoying or insane because I experience such joy and freedom that no on can take it away. You all could use a little of that!

8) Team Tampax Pearls kicks major ass at 331 pub trivia! We've won two weeks in a row! And I laugh like a crazy woman all through it. Sunday nights have never been so much fun!

9) I have the greatest friends in the world. No lie. They keep me in line, keep me laughing, keep me honest, keep me humbled, keep me having a great time. Morgie and Brian...you have been notified of your assignments but remember you MUST text and call me regularly to make sure I'm not too far inside the Jonesie noggin and going after the inaccessible again. Sha, thanks again for loaning me that slutty blue shirt to wear as I slept in your parents living room! I LOVE YOU ALL!

10) I'm almost done with my Bi-Annual mix. Just tweaking the order and the inclusion of a few songs. Here's videos for a few of the tunes that have meant the most to me in the past six months. Either cause of sobs or booty shakes!

Put that in the Spank Bank...

2008-05-21T11:49:00.005-05:00

Ummmm...I just saw these photos from Bruce's guest appearance at the Social D show...ummm...UMMMMMM...AWESOME AWESOME AWESOME AWESOME!

Mark R. Sullivan, the photographer AKA my new hero!

Mark R. Sullivan, thank you endlessly! If Jason Isbell flew in from the ceiling, with the Jersey shore sand still lightly in his hair, that would basically make it my distorted holy trinity of today. THANK YOU FOR THESE RAD SHOTS!

Le sigh, BIG TIME!

The Best Laid Birthday Plans!

2008-05-20T00:44:00.007-05:00

Much thanks to Andrea for taking camera duty on our special night...

The Birthday Girls all dressed up (and as Andrea put it, our only sober picture for about a 30 hour period!)

Birthday piggy back ride from Jesse, my WonderTwin's BF!

Hallelujah dedicated to us Irish style...ummm...yeah. Happy Birthday to Mama!

Chilly Thugs with Fancy Shoes

War Drums on my birthday...yep...that's all I really wanted!

I'm not kidding..Heiruspecs makes me go ape sh*t!

Mom, I (and everyone else who listened to Talk of the Nation last week) now know you cyber stalk me and read my blog. This one is for you! THANK YOU FOR RAISING ME RIGHT, MAMA! I LOVE YOU!

Heidi is a Bruce sister, the ultimate schemer and creator of pit wristbands, AND I LOVE IT!

Sharing our birthday cupcakes! THEY WERE DELICIOUS!

I think I make this face a lot. Especially whilst shaking my Angel Wings.

The Boys: Loomer's Shocker Dance, Kyle's Mad Skillz & Jesse Smirks Behind his Xmen Chops

Ummm...yeah. Plagens is right up there with me. She's a great friend. Who also loves booty music with every fiber of her being.

Andy's Birthday is on May 18th too! T'is CRAZY MADNESS! This time it was a peanut butter cupcake. And it was DELICIOUS!

Which came first: the sandwich or the urinal? Drinking makes me have to go. Many many times. And sometimes you just can't wait.

Before trivia, I thought it would be SUPER hilarious to jump up on the stage that Heiruspecs had played at the night before, in the 331 parking lot, and rap the lyrics to War Drums. I'm a glutton for eternal nerdy white girl with no rhythm punishment. AND I WOULDN'T HAVE IT ANY OTHER WAY! YAAAAAAAAY! WHAT UP ST. PAUL?!!? WHAT UP MIAMI!?!? TMF OPPOSITION. WHAT UP FAMILY!??!?...

After that, much more ridiculous madness ensued. A lot that I don't really remember and I think is probably pretty incriminating (not in the bad BAD way, Mom.) But, dear friends, I STILL managed to make it to work today. WOOHOO!

PS I also scored some seriously awesome loot: gift certificates to Target and Starbucks from my family, last March's Bruce concert ticket from my seriously cool parents, a wiener dog magnet/notepad/and sponge from my sister, a photography book, a gift card to the Fetus (YAY...my FAVORITE store to wander around), an amazing homemade necklace by Genna with totally rad bright red and blue stones, a gorgeous black and white Springsteen print that Cohen took from Bruce's last show here, 4 delicious cupcakes (one of which I may ACCIDENTALLY have eaten off of the floor of the dance club...I really wanna forget that), a print of the infamous WonderTwin reach up to Bruce on stage that Heidi took on her iphone, adorable magnetic wiener dog salt'n'pepa shakers that kiss, gut inducing laughter lunch at a salad bar (where Sean challenged me to a "how many grapes can you fit in YOUR mouth" contest...I schooled him after he gave up at 20. These two old black couples who were all dressed up after church cheered and congratulated me on the win. One of those classy women actually said to Sean "Honey, never challenge a woman to a grape eating contest because next time it won't be grapes in her mouth." HOLLA! I never wanna forget that!), the company of many of my friends.

Woah...I'm LUCKY!

Danny.

2008-05-19T15:31:00.005-05:00

I wrote this following segment the day I learned of Danny Federici's death, on April 17, 2008. I kept meaning to expand on this but never could. So I post it as is because I want to put it out there.

Last week, I worked a Dental Convention at Xcel. For three days, I woke up at 5am to take a nauseatingly early bus to St. Paul. I left almost every day crying, overwhelmed with boredom and exhaustion. I had spent ten hours printing off nametags for dentists, dental assistants, dental hygenists, dental spouses, dental kids. With a sassy black woman munching ginger snaps on one side and hyper annoying RenFester for life coughing up phlegm on the other, between almost every page of Kitchen Confidential and Pedal Pusher, I stared out the window of the RiverCentre as the same image played over and over again in my head.

I saw our car pulling into the lot across the street. I saw all of us inside that car, busting out of the Honda and dancing across the street, me inevitably wailing the wrong lyrics to my favorite songs. I saw us standing in those lines for the wristband, eating greasy bar food and drinking cold beer in the soft summer spring fall blistering winter light, nervously fidgeting until the pit number was drawn. Running in as only a herd of middle class white honkies could. Securing our spot as close to the stage as we could get, amongst our people, all of us chattering away as we waited to be baptized by these sweaty waters of rock’n’roll.

I spent ten hours watching cars pull into that lot and not one of them was the Honda. I spent my breaks crawling in between a secret stash of shut down soda machines I found in a dark corner of the convention center, clutching my phone as I alternately called Sha and Tabatha. Because I needed two people that had been with me for a long time, had seen the best and worst of me, had danced with me at shows, had screamed lyrics with me. Two people I had grown up with, surrounded by music.

Being at Xcel for ten hours and not having a Bruce Springsteen concert at the end of the day was just hard. Instead, I felt sorry for myself, I’ve barely been able to take photos, write, and for awhile even get my ass up to go to shows. Without that, I honestly feel like nothing.

Today, WonderTwin, an E Street sister, woke up me up to tell me that Danny Federici had died. Bruce’s E Street brother, his band-mate and close friend for over forty years, a legend for so many people. The Phantom. The little monkey man with giant blue eyes who played an absolutely fierce accordian and keyboard.

I have spent the past three weeks, seven months, twenty-six years perfecting the art of enthusiasm, on a constant quest to make the most out of my life. Sometimes, I feel very young. When I talked to Jim today, and he once again referenced how they were dropping like flies, I realized I am young, definitely too young to grasp that cynicism. Too me, even though he had cancer, he was supposed to live forever...or at the very least long enough to grow REALLY old with his family and his friends, with his music.

I don’t know what my life would be without this music. What grabbed me from that first instant were the lyrics. What kept me every day after that, for the past seven years, was the passion on and off the stage…that palpable connection between me and my insides, me and my mom, me and my closest friends, me and my hero, me and thousands of other freaks for this rock’n’roll giant that is and always be Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band.

When you are at those shows, you can't help but feel this insane amount of love. They play for themselves, for each other and for us. And it's an amazing gift that will continue to live as long as we continue to relish in every single recording Danny stood next to Bruce, his Jersey brother forever.

Danny...you'll ALWAYS be the man!

In the past month, a lot has changed. Spring is here. Once again, I can't sit still. I'm getting a lot of great photography opportunities that keep me insanely busy. And I've been surrounding myself with family, friends and lots of music. It's really good.

Man oh man, I wish I was there...

2008-05-19T14:54:00.008-05:00

DREAM COME MOTHERF*CKING TRUE!

From backstreets...

ASBURY PARK SOCIAL CLUB
Springsteen and Social D's Mike Ness rock the Stone Pony

On Saturday night, or the second of two Mike Ness shows at the Pony, the Social Disortion frontman was joined on stage by his friend (and longtime fan) Bruce Springsteen. After watching the show from the soundboard, Springsteen joined in for a four-song encore. As Linda tells us, there was "'Misery Loves Company,' the song they did together on Mike's 1999 solo CD, Cheating at Solitaire. Then they did my favorite Social D. song, 'Ball and Chain,' but instead of sticking to the original rocking version, they did it as a slow, country ballad. Bruce sang the second verse, and the crowd went nuts. Next was a 'If You Leave Before Me,' from Cheating at Solitaire, followed by a fun 'I Fought the Law.' What was really cool was seeing the excitement and giddiness of Social D. fans after the show. Most of these fans are guys in their 20s -- tattoos, pierced body parts, part hardcore punk/part rockabilly, and their hot Bettie Page-type girlfriends. They were so happy and excited, and I heard them saying, 'Man, nothing gets better than this!' and 'Wow, can you believe it? How frickin' amazing was that?!'" As Ness asked the crowd, "Aren't you guys glad you came the second night?" [Correction: Ness performed Dylan's "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right" without Springsteen]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Basically, it goes like this. Because of my obsession with Bruce, I discovered Marah. Because of my obsession with Marah, I discovered Drive-By Truckers. Because of my obsession with Drive-By Truckers, I discovered Social Distotion.

At one time or another, for a long time, those bands meant the world to me. In two of those cases, sh*t went down and favorite members left/were forced to leave (who will ever really know? And yes just last week I was day dreaming about the awesomeness of Jason Isbell and my summer concert in Kansas City. And just last week I was creating a rock'n'roll poster of a bunch of my shots, which shall be displayed shortly, and I didn't include any of Marah...because it just isn't the same any more. When the corner square reads "There are pictures of her heroes on the wall", how could I?) Bruce is obviously still mon numero une and I'm still super stoked to FINALLY see sans Isbell Truckers at First Ave.

And then there's Social D...a band an old roommate told me years agoI should REALLY listen to cause I was such a Trucker fan. And I fell instantly in love. This music soothed me whenever I felt like ramming my little Honda right into the A-hole in front of me! Cause I would scream along with Mike Ness and all seemed well again!

Then I saw them live, by myself, and it was one of the top 10 non Bruce live shows of my life. I fought to stay in the moshing crowd, pressed against the pole at the Quest to steady myself, danced so hard that I ruined my neon roos, and relished in the cool beer that was being poured on us so we didn't overheat. It was disgusting. And amazing. And just as awesome the next time round too.

When I realize that my ultimate musical hero is a friend and longtime fan of another musical hero of mine, it warms my heart. And somehow makes so much of what I love come full circle and connect.

Because really it was just two dudes jamming on a stage together. Seriously, how awesome is that?!?!

F*cking RAD! I wonder if they go shopping for black clothes together?

(That Bruce video is sort of nauseatingly raw...motion sickness...but also one of the best videos I've seen that portrays what it's like to really be at one of those shows, in the midst of that crowd.)

Best Birthday Ever!

2008-05-19T01:23:00.005-05:00

It was amazing. I got to celebrate the birthday with an amazing fellow May 18ther, surrounded by many of my friends. Effin' sweet. More pics to come (including some quasi incriminating ones of me dancing on a balcony.) Effin' sweet!

Not much has changed...

2008-05-08T13:33:00.002-05:00

A Pictoral Display of My Life

2008-04-06T17:00:00.008-05:00

I typed words in google image that make me think of my life right now.

It'll all be good soon enough...hopefully. Until then, there's always my friends and dailypuppy.com. No, I don't sit and wallow lazily in self pity. Yes, I'm still the laughing energetic pervert you all have come to know.

Case in point, I love that when you type friends into google image, that super friendly picture pops up in the third row. Haha.

Radio Nowhere: THIS IS THE SH*T!

2008-03-20T22:51:00.003-05:00

Holy CRAP! Check out the 23 second point on the far right...yep, that's correct...that's Mama Jones, me & WonderTwin Jen right against the stage in front of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. I'm crying...that I am sure of. I can't exactly pinpoint it but Radio Nowhere just makes me cry. I love this song and I need to stop apologizing for that...because, to me, it's a great fucking pop song. They're happy tears! This song just makes me jump and dance and of all the songs from Magic, this is the song I can listen to over and over again. My ears, my eyes, my heart, my feet just LOVE it!

Christ almighty this video RULES! I love the vantage point! I love that you can see Bruce's ass! I love that my family is all wrapped up in the joy!

Coming down from these experiences is never ever easy. It shouldn't be. They are seriously the best times of my life!

Image Survey

2008-03-04T23:33:00.026-06:00

I rarely post surveys on my blog but this one was just too much fun. Also, I spent the better part of yesterday evening watching episodes of My So Called Life. I am consumed in my mind (and my lady business) with Jordan Catalano's illiteracy. If Jordan the Hottie can't read, I make pictures. I make pictures all night long, several times a night.

The rules are simple...

1. Type your answer into google image search.
2. Use an image on the first page for your answer.
3. Do Jordan Catalano to congratulate yourself for completing the survey.

1. What's your first name?

Legally...

Really my first name is a nickname of my middle name, and I've gone by that my entire life...

2. What's your favorite food?

3. What school did you go to?

4. What is your favorite color?

5. Who is your celebrity crush?

The survey gods didn't demand I choose just one...

6. Who is your favorite Disney prince/princess?

7. What is your favorite drink?

8. What is your dream vacation?

...performing in...

9. What is your favorite dessert?

10. What do you want to be when you grow up?

11. What do you love most in life?

12. One word to describe you

yep...it was the same word and the same page for both images...and it's perfect for me.

13. What do you dream about?

Totally Obsessed with Bruce Springsteen

2008-03-04T10:39:00.007-06:00

In lieu of the fact that in less than two weeks, I will be back with Bruce Springsteen live and in person, I finally compiled a list of every place and every song I have ever seen Bruce perform live.

8/30/02 St. Louis, MO - Savvis Center - The Rising Tour
10/3/03 Flushing, NY - Shea Stadium - The Rising Tour
10/4/03 Flushing, NY - Shea Stadium - The Rising Tour
10/3/04 Detroit, MI - Cobo Arena - Vote for Change Tour
10/5/04 St. Paul, MN - Xcel Energy Center - Vote For Change Tour
5/10/05 St. Paul, MN - Xcel Energy Center - Devils and Dust Tour
5/11/05 Chicago, IL - Rosemont Theatre - Devils and Dust Tour
8/7/05 Milwaukee, WI - Bradley Center - Devils and Dust Tour
10/12/05 Minneapolis, MN - Northrom Auditorium - Devils and Dust Tour
10/13/05 Chicago, IL - United Center - Devils and Dust Tour
10/15/05 Madison, WI - Alliant Energy Center - Devils and Dust Tour
6/11/06 St. Paul, MN - Xcel Energy Center - Seeger Sessions Tour
6/13/06 Tinley Park, IL - First Midwest Bank Amphitheatre - Seeger Sessions Tour
11/2/07 St. Paul, MN - Xcel Energy Center - Magic Tour

The number next to the song indicates how many times I have seen it performed live (yep...I am a total dork.) Here we go...

A Good Man is Hard to Find 1
Across the Border 1
Ain't Got You 4
All Along the Watchtower 1 (with Neil Young)
All I'm Thinkin' About 3
All That Heaven Will Allow 2
American Land 1
Another Thin Line 2
Atlantic City 2
Back In Your Arms 3
Bad Day 2 (with REM)
Badlands 6
Because the Night 4 (twice with Michael Stipe)
Blinded By the Light 1
Blood Brothers 1
Bobby Jean 3
Book of Dreams 1
Born in the U.S.A. 4
Born to Run 6 (twice with Mike Mills and Peter Buck)
Brilliant Disguise 1
Bring Them Home 2
Buffalo Gals 2
Candy's Room 1
Centerfield 2 (both with John Fogerty)
Code of Silence 1
Countin' on a Miracle 1
Dancing in the Dark 5
Darkness on the Edge of Town 2
Deja Vu All Over Again 2 (both with John Fogerty)
Devils & Dust 6
Devils Arcade 1
Does this Bust Stop at 82nd Street? 1
Downbound Train 1
Dream Baby Dream 5
Empty Sky 5
Erie Canal 1
Eyes on the Prize 2
For You 1
Fortunate Son 2 (both with John Fogerty)
Frankie 1
Further On (Up the Road) 5
Girls in Their Summer Clothes 1
Glory Days 1
Growin' Up 3
Gypsy Biker 1
Highway 29 1
Highway 61 Revisited 1 (with Bob Dylan)
Highway Patrolman 1
How Can a Poor Man Stand Such Times and Live? 2
I Wanna Marry You 1
I Wish I Were Blind 2
I'm on Fire 1
Idiot's Delight 3
If I Should Fall Behind 2
Incident on 57th Street 3 (solo twice, full band once...yep, it matters)
Into the Fire 4
Jacob's Ladder 2
Janey Don't Lose Your Heart 1
Jesse James 2
Jesus Was an Only Son 6
John Henry 2
Johnny 99 7
Land of Hope and Dreams 5
Last to Die 1
Leah 3
Light of Day 1
Livin' in the Future 1
Living Proof 1
Lonesome Day 7
Long Black Veil 2
Long Time Comin' 6
Long Walk Home 1
Lost in the Flood 1
Magic 1
Man on the Moon 2 (both with REM)
Maria's Bed 2
Mary's Place 5
Metamoros Banks 6
Mrs. McGrath 2
My Beautiful Reward 2
My Best Was Never Good Enough 2
My City of Ruins 3
My Father's House 1
My Oklahoma Home 2
Nebraska 3
New York City Serenade 1
Night 2
No Surrender 3
Nothing Man 2
O Mary Don't You Weep 2
Old Dan Tucker 2
One Step Up 1
Open All Night 3
Paradise 2
Part Man, Part Monkey 2
Pay Me My Money Down 2
People Have the Power 2 (both with Bright Eyes, REM, John Fogerty, Neil and Pegi Young, once with Dixie Chicks as well)
Pink Cadillac 1
Point Blank 1
Proud Mary 1 (with John Fogerty)
Prove It All Night 3
Quarter to Three 1
Racing in the Street 2
Radio Nowhere 1
Rag Mama Rag 1
Ramrod 2
Reason to Believe 5
Rendezvous 1
Reno 6
Rockin' in the Free World 1 (with REM, John Fogerty, Neil and Pegi Young)
Rosalita 2
Roulette 2
Seven Nights to Rock 2
She's the One 1
Shut Out the Light 1
Silver Palomino 2
Souls of the Departed 2 (once with Neil Young)
State Trooper 2
The Fuse 1
The Hitter 3
The Line 1
The New Timer 3
The Promised Land 10 (twice with John Fogerty)
The Rising 12
The River 3
The Star-Spangled Banner 2
The Ties That Bind 4
This Hard Land 1
Thunder Road 3
Tougher Than the Rest 1
Travelin' Band 1 (with John Fogerty)
Tunnel of Love 1
Twist and Shout 2
Two Hearts 1
Valentine's Day 1
Waitin' on a Sunny Day 3
We Shall Overcome 2
(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding 2 (both with with Bright Eyes, REM, John Fogerty, Neil and Pegi Young)
When the Saints Go Marching In 2
When You're Alone 1
Wild Billy's Circus Story 1
Working on the Highway 1
Worlds Apart 1
Wreck on the Highway 1
You Can Look (But You Better Not Touch) 2
You're Missing 2
Your Own Worst Enemy 1
Youngstown 2

I have seen Bruce 14 times in concert.
I have seen Bruce in 9 different cities.
I have seen Bruce sing 340 songs.
I have seen Bruce sing 148 different songs.
I have seen Bruce sing 33 covers.
I have seen Bruce play The Rising 12 times, which the song I have heard the most live.
I have seen Bruce on 5 different tours (every single tour since I had my Bruce Springsteen moment seven years ago.)
I have seen Bruce play the most on the Devils and Dust tour (6 times...which is ironic considering I didn't even like that album, except for Jesus Was An Only Son...yes, they were still absolutely beautiful shows.)
I have seen Bruce play with the E Street Band, the Seeger Sessions Band and solo.
I have seen Bruce play with special guests Al Leiter, Jon Landeau, Willie Nile, Gary U.S. Bonds, Bob Dylan, Garland Jeffreys, Bright Eyes, the Dixie Chicks, R.E.M., John Fogerty, Neil Young and Pegi Young.
I have cried at all 14 Bruce shows AT LEAST once.
I, Mary Alexandra Jones, am totally obsessed with Bruce Springsteen.

It's just astounding that these Bruce shows always seem to come when I need them the most. It's also astounding that I have seen both Silver Palimino and Part Man, Part Monkey multiple times and have NEVER SEEN JUNGLELAND! Two chances, Brucey, to make it up to me...

St. Paul and Milwaukee...Mama Jones is coming up from KC, MO for both shows and my WonderTwin is traveling to both as well. I'll get to rock out with most of the Minnesotan rock'n'roll rats, Jake and Justin (my long time Bruce brothers), downattheresevoir and her sis, windycitydarling, her husband and her 20 year old son (a Bruce virgin), Cline (an awesomely perverted I think maybe Republican)...I can't wait to be back together with my people, screaming, dancing and sobbing!

BRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCE!

Calling Twin Cities Bands: I Want YOU!

2008-02-25T15:01:00.009-06:00

I'm starting a photography project with local bands that I'm super stoked about. Basically, I've spent the past year shooting live shows, and love it dearly, but I'm trying to dig deeper.

Here's the deal...

I love candid photography and am comfortable with it but I want (and need) more practice doing promo shots. I have always been interested in the intimacy of the rehearsal process (I spent 15 years in rehearsal as a now pretty much defunct theatre actor and director.) So the project is a series of rehearsal and promotional shots with local bands. If possible, I would love to come in during one of your rehearsals, photograph you and your band (or just you and your instrument...whatever is applicable) practicing for no more than an hour (and usually less than that) and then spend maybe 30-45 minutes doing promo shots around your rehearsal space...outside the building, in the car, in the grass, in the weird creepy attic, what have you. Rock'n'roll...hip hop...indie rock...punk...rockabilly...instrumental...I'm interested in a ton! It's cool if you rehearse in just a grungy room in a house or a studio space or whatever. I like the challenge. (Also, I'm dropping a bit of my tax refund on some new gear.)

Here's some examples with The Spaghetti Western String Co...

Click here for the rest of the photos from that shoot.

There would be no money involved in the initial session and you all could use the pictures for whatever you wanted (as long as I am always credited!) It's something that's really fun and beneficial for me and you all could get some shots out of it. Contact me at malexajones at gmail dot com if you are interested and we can hopefully make something work.

Seriously, I'm fun and respectful and quiet (during these shoots...outside of these shoots, I'm a uber enthusiastic banshee.) I swear!

DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!

xoxo,
Jones

sigh

2008-02-20T13:27:00.005-06:00

I'm not in a very good mood right now so I apologize up front for my bitching and moaning...

Well, there they are...the new members of Marah. No more Adam, Kirk & Dave P. Wanna know what else...those are MY pictures of Dave & Serge...which when I saw on their web-site last night produced a mix of excitement and disgust (heightened cause I was dead tired.) Cause wanna know what else...THEY NEVER ASKED IF THEY COULD USE THEM! MARAH?!?!! Come on guys...that's not right. You KNOW that's not right. Just ask me. I'm not a stranger. I've met and partied and stayed up all night with you (this excludes the newbies...who will have personalities and voices to me soon enough.) I just dealt with your break-up right before a much needed Minneapolis show and then I see my photos on a poster with the new members...and you didn't ask. Bands and musicians ask (I hope...god I fear how many of my photos are floating around out there and being used against my knowledge) even if it's just for myspace but especially web-sites or European press. Not only does it make me feel awesome and proud but this is MY business and I am a professional. When I saw that poster last night, at first I was really excited because it was one of my favorite bands using my photography, then it quickly dawned on me that THEY NEVER ASKED. I'm not sure how REAL that poster is...like is it simply something they created for fun (which is not really for fun anymore cause it's on the front page of their web-site) or are my Barcelona friends gonna walk by the venue to have that poster outside?? One of my favorites and I just feel a little taken advantage by them right now. So it's VERY bittersweet. Like I hear nothing from them after I put my pics up on the forum for others to see, after working my ass off on them, and then all of a sudden, six months later, there they are again. Sigh. Seriously people...don't do this. I love music and live shows more than anything. I don't know how to play any instruments, am a horrible singer, don't care about theatre anymore but still need to produce art. I take pictures. In almost every case, I will give you my art. Just don't take it from me.

Ummm...that was a tad more of a rant than I had originally intended. It's also the straw that broke the camels back and I'M CRABBY.

I realized something last night. I take photos for you. I write for me. Neither is more important than the other because they are both art I feel like I have to make. Appreciate or don't but know that it is my insides. I care about them both. And when I care about something to this extent, it means a helluva lot to me.

I guess I'm just sad, too.

I'm sick of being disappointed by people. I'm sick of feeling used, like I can easily be taken advantage of because I am the way I am: funny, independent, anti-confrontational and just generally wanting to have a good time, make nice and make some noise. I never give myself enough credit and have a horrible time taking compliments (though that doesn't mean I don't like to hear them.) Part of what drives me is proving my own insecurities wrong. In my past, I have been told that I'm too fat to do what I want to do with my life (family and a billion kids on the school bus), that I'm a lesbian who watches other girls undress (middle school locker room), that I'm not a good enough writer (teacher), that I'm grasping at straws with my personality (old roommate), that I'm a fair weather friend (girl from the middle school locker room), that I need to see myself as beautiful (mentor), that if I don't take myself seriously, no one else will (second father/mentor.) It was all spread over 26 years, yes, but shit like that has a way of sticking. Some of this has been said by people I would take a bullet for and others who I would sooner leave on the side of the road in a hail storm. No, I'm not the same girl who didn't want to wake up the next day thirteen years ago...I've made some awesome advances with my self-confidence even in the past year. I'm proud to own the Jones. But strength will forever take work. I don't want to be the same person thirteen years from now that I am today. I won't be. Because some song is guaranteed to change my life again.

I guess I just need a break. If I had my choice right now, I would pack up my car and get outta this city, blaring Jungleland and The Temptation of Adam and Rolling and Brother Run Them Down and War Drums and Outfit and Umbrella and The Magician and Radio Nowhere all along the highway, stopping at my home in Kansas City for a few nights, snuggling with my dog and devouring Arthur Bryant's bbq, waking up to the sound of peacocks screaming and running next to the creek, making shrinkie-dinks with Morgie and falling asleep next to her in that amazing bed, catching every Bruce Springsteeen/Jason Isbell/Josh Ritter show in every surrounding state and ending up in the Gospel tent at the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage festival, po'boy in hand and head in the clouds, far away from everything.

Fuck winter, man...it's messing with my mind.

Hey Twin Cities bands...play this festival!

2008-02-19T23:17:00.003-06:00

My friend Stacy Schwartz, photographer and booker for a hella nice local music fest, needs bands...

Attention bands and performers of all types! The Stone Arch Festival of the Arts is now taking applications for their outdoor festival June 14/15, 2008. This year there will be five performance stages showcasing local and regional acts. Last year's bands included Romantica, The Alarmists, Jeremy Messersmith, The Mood Swings, and Martin Devaney. We're looking for 35 - 45 bands to play over these two days. The festival runs from 10am - 6pm, so there's still plenty of time for you to play a gig that night. Over 100,000 people attended last year's festival so it's a good way to get your name out there! Contact Stacy Schwartz at stonearchperformance@gmail.com for more information. Applications are due March 15, 2008. Press here to get the application.

Happy Valentine's Day to MEEEEEEE!

2008-02-14T17:11:00.011-06:00

I recieved a message from Jason Isbell today...

Alexa,

These pictures are great! We'd love to use them on our MySpace page. What is your mailing address? We'll send you a thank you package once things slow down a bit.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I immediately started laughing and ran out to call Jen where we proceeded to list about a dozen inappropriate packages Jason could send to me (yeah, imagine that.) I just had to tell everyone that knew how much this could have meant to me. JASON ISBELL! Then, I couldn't stop smiling. It felt a lot like my first photo as POTW on hwts or my first shot in vita.mn. To beat this pony for the zillionth time...JASON ISBELL IS ONE OF MY VERY FAVORITES! HIS ALBUM IS ONE OF MY VERY FAVORITES! HIS SHOWS ARE SOME OF MY VERY FAVORITES! And he liked my work enough to even CONSIDER sending a package. I don't care if it's a postcard. I don't care if it's the album, which I own in several different formats. I don't care if it's a t-shirt or a big ass bottle of whiskey. I don't care if it's nothing ever. Because, in this case, it seriously is the thought that counts (though a "thank you package" would be so effing amazing.)*

I do this because there is nothing I love more than a really rad show and it's become a mission to try to capture that, in pictures especially, words often, or shouting it from a mountain top always. I get so much out of live music and I love being able to repay those artists with my work. I know I have A LOT to learn. I know that concert photography can be "a dime a dozen." It doesn't have to be, though, and I want to continue to challenge myself to capture what I experience. It's not lucrative but it's my life and when a musician takes the time to even say thank you, especially those that aren't from around here, it means the world to me. I've made really amazing friends through this because I've left a venue with 4GB of shots, bawling and/or grinning from ear to ear, and I sent those musicians my pictures, and then all of a sudden you're having two hour conversations about art and life over pad thai or laughing ridiculously at a candyshop in downtown St. Paul or analyzing the Bruce Kingdom and everything that involves over greasy bar food. It's been almost exactly one year since I started doing this seriously and I will continue on, because I'm as excited about it now as I was that first time I looked down to my LCD screen and saw what a good camera could do. So, that's that.

And also, I know it's just myspace, but seeing MY picture as Jason Isbell's profile shot gives me a giant girly boner...and also great...going to the Drive-by Truckers page to see that same shot in their top friends. Hell. Yes.

And also, this must be a tiny tiny tiny tiny TINY fraction of what Jim Walsh felt when he got that hand-written thank you note from Bruce Springsteen.

And also, first step, Jason, many MANY steps later, Bruce. I'm just saying.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Press here for the rest of my shots from that night, including Will Hoge's co-headling set. God bless the Varsity's lighting.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

*If one of Jason Isbell's people, Jason Isbell himself (god help me), or someone who has ever had a conversation with Jason Isbell happens upon this, I swear to the gods that I'm not a creep or crazy (in the bad way.) Just wanted to throw that out there for the sake of my (ever dwindling) dignity.

Happy Valentine's Day, LUVAHS!

xoxo,
Alexa, She Who Pines Away For A Package from the Postman

To Keep My Mind Off It...

2008-01-26T13:12:00.000-06:00

Yep, Marah was, at one time, gonna be playing the 400 Bar tonight. And, at one time, Texas-by-way-of-Minneapolis Kat was gonna be flying up for the show and we were gonna scream and dance like assholes together. And, at one time, my old coworkers who went to the last 400 Marah show and many of my new music friends were gonna come together to enjoy some seriously awesome rock'n'roll.

Alas...

Nope, I can't stay hung up on it all day, all week, all month, all year forever and ever and ever.

So...

To keep my mind off of it, because I still can't/won't listen to Marah's music (dramatic much??? SERIOUSLY Jones...I swear I'll stop soon enough), I'm gonna overwhelm myself with AWESOMENESS today!

1) I've listened to War Drums by Heiruspecs eight times already today. THIS SONG DRIVES ME CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZY, but in the really good, seize back and forth with my arms waving kind of way. Jesus god, I LOVE THIS SONG!

No, I wasn't at this show...

But I WAS at THIS SHOW...

...and it was THE SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT! Yeah, the drunk asshole that tried to push in front of me, knocked my camera and poured beer on me and my American hip hop soulmate (Donkey, you KNOW you are my original hip hop sister forever and ever!!) was a pain but he got owned in the end and it turned out to be a righteous time. GOD BLESS LOCAL HIP HOP!!!!!

2) Dogs! God, I love them, too. From my sister back home who snuggled with me ALLLLLL NIGHT EVERY NIIIIIIIGHT over Christmas break, who missed me so much when I left that she would still run upstairs to see if I was there even after two weeks...

....to my future child...

...I LOVE DOOOOOOOOOOOGS!

3) Josh Ritter, one of my favorite discoveries of last year, has broken and healed my heart over and over again. On Letterman last week, he made me choke up with joy and hope that not ALL bands are gonna turn around and break up as soon as they perform on network television (Oh Marah...I still love you...I'll get over it and learn to praise again I SWEAR!)

Seriously...this man overwhelms me with that smile and Ritter DEFINITELY wins Happiest Man in the Universe award, well right after butter is better Paula Dean and this Ethiopian woman I know back in Kansas City. GO JOSH GO!

And, late last night, when I was a tad lonely and lying in the dark youtubing my favorite singers, I FOUND THIS...WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!?!?!? SJDHG{W(#*RYW^)WR&(T)Q@EW(DVKJHLKSFJ^%*&^$#$*DYR JOSH RITTER AAAAAAAND GLEN HANSARD...MERCY ME MERCY ME!!!!!!!!

I love me some beard on beard action.

4) GOSSIP GIRL DAY! The lovely gossip girls are having an entire day dedicated to cheesy movies, malts, live music and girl talk. Secrets will be revealed. Secrets will be locked tight in the gossip girl vault. GOSSIP GIRLZ!

5) Jason Isbell. Yep. I've gushed about him ad nauseam. Y'know...the fact that he broke off from one of my favorite bands and I thought it would be over, and it's obviously not...cause Sirens of the Ditch was one of my favorite releases last year and Chicago Promenade was one of my favorite songs last year (and of the past several years...in fact, I sorta think that DBT needs to step it up now)...It feels reeeeeeeal nice to think of that. And it feels reeeeeeeeal nice to listen to Isbell. And watch him. And I'm reeeeeeeeeeeeeal excited for his show at The Varsity on February 6th. WOOHOO! JASON!

It's a simple song but a lovely one.

6) I GOT PUBLISHED AGAIN! YAAAAAAAAAAAAY! Check out page 4 of this week's vita.mn! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!

This was a much needed treat/job after last week's sh*tty Thursday (the day that ended with me tripping outside the turf club and shattering one of my $400 lenses thus I spent all of Bon Iver crying tears of self loathing in the back of the venue!!!) Jonesie needs every last dolla bill she can get!

7) BRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCE!

Okay, if you wanna talk to me about breaking and healing my heart, there will always and forever be Bruce (big effin' surprise.) Above everything else. Yep yep yep. Seriously, people we're rounding the bend on a seven year die-hard obsession. It ain't waning any time soon. I watched this video last night with those same lights off, the glow of the greenway coming through the window, and I cried, SUCKAS, I CRIED!! Favorite song EVER...

That's from the show last November at Xcel, when, as I've said a billion times before, the rock'n'roll rats ruled the world. I didn't want it to end...the wails, the tears, the high fives, the hand-holding so tight that my knuckles turn white, the bar before and afterwards where your surrounded by people who understand and relish in it. I never want it to end. When those opening chords of Incident started, I screamed my Jonesie scream, FINALLY I was going to get to hear a full band Incident with all my E Street boys backing my Bruce. I was there, with my friends and my Mama, and life could not have been any more rewarding at that one moment. I wept, laughed and literally pounded on my mom's back, keeping my white girl rhythm, while dancing up and down. This song is a sweeping romance of epic proportions, yet its still simple and accessible, a boy loves a girl, Johnny & Jane. They meet through his tears, their names are never revealed (my favorite line ever: Puerto Rican Jane, oh won't you tell me what's your name?)...maybe because that way the anonymity allows all of us to a part of a love story, they love each other desperately and then, not by choice (I'd like to believe), he's gone. Is he arrested? Is he murdered? Is she alone? Maybe. Maybe it's something different every single time you hear it.

And Bruce is coming back on March 16th. Go to this show. Rock'n'roll redemption is worth every damn penny (or ten thousand of them.) Trust me.

God I can't wait...

What I do know is that I have left myself about 30 minutes go take a shower, put my make-up on and fix my hair up pretty, and kick it with my girls alllllll day! YAY!

To all that I have to look forward to in my future...YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!

The Hand That Feeds You

2008-01-16T15:01:00.000-06:00

Together, we are Marah.

2008-01-14T01:21:00.000-06:00

I woke up this morning with the intention of sitting in a St. Paul coffee shop and writing all day long, purging my year in review piece that has been swarming in my mind, taking up space along side the English cream long haired miniature dachshund that I will someday own and the boys I crush on from afar. It would be the perfect cap to a weekend of live music and photography. The piece was going to flow out easily as I had already decided the format: take every song I had put on my Jonesie 2007 Obsessions Mix and tell its story. Lame and overdone, maybe, but it was also my perfect categorizing method. Like Nick Hornby’s Songbook that had become my best friend as I traveled around Barcelona, like Rob Sheffield's Love Is A Mix Tape that had become my relationship model and source of gut wrenching inspiration last week, like so many of my friends and family, music has defined my memories. For the past two weeks, I found myself staring off while at work, telling my stories over and over again in my head.

And then I woke up today and found out that one of my very favorite bands in the whole wide fucking world is falling apart.

Marah

Yeah, this all seems really dramatic. Yeah, these all could be ridiculous rumors that are a product of forum fuck fests. But make fun of me about this and I’ll lose my shit on you. And by that I of course mean I’ll brush it off like it’s okay, say some half-assed yeah it sucks, and then sit in my car and cry because that’s the one place that seems to beat the honesty out of me as I blare my music way too loud.

I’ve never been someone that can conceal how I feel. It instantaneously splatters across my face: disgust, ecstasy, boredom, love, etc. Maybe I’ll realize what’s happening and hide it because it’s even too inappropriate for me but it’s always there for at least a millisecond. I’m sitting in the coffee shop right now choking up next to some hippie dad bouncing his baby on his knee. All I can think about is what I could potentially lose by Marah breaking up. Now I don't need to simply write about the year that was 2007; it’s what I have become in the past five years since I discovered Marah.

I know I’m not the first person to experience this heartbreak, as bands have broken up since the dawn of time when Neanderthal Yoko first undid her bearskin skirt for Neanderthal John. Marah has undergone many line-up changes in its dozen odd years as a band. Some say that Marah is simply the Bielanko brothers. Others say that Marah is Dave B, Serge, Kirk, Adam, Dave P. I can't help but identify more with the second school because that’s all I’ve ever known. Just like my E Street is Max and not Mad Dog, this is my Marah.

Adam and Kirk were two people who welcomed me into the community first, hung around to really talk to me, the meek girl from Minnesota who would soon enough open her mouth to let out her rock'n'roll banshee scream. Kirk, Adam & Dave are hardcore rumored to be leaving the band. All at the same time. This doesn’t bode well. Trust me when I say that I wanna believe that this will be okay, that whatever changes happen, they’ll still be my rock’n’roll band. But Marah was never about just the two brothers who share the mic and sing the songs. It’s always been about this community of rock’n’roll rats. I will of course listen and watch whatever the next Marah could be but I have every right and every reason to be scared and skeptical for the future of this band. I'm not going to place blame on why half of the band members could potentially be gone. I’m not going to slander the band, slander the brothers because I love them and that would be slandering every single damn precious memory I have of this band, this community of people, and I can't do that. I'm just worried. But, you know, the internet is a big place full of lots of break-up or change-it-up rumors and they are just overwhelming me now. Maybe tomorrow the jokes on us and the full tour, including Adam & Dave's Bloodline, is still on. And I'll be all like hahaha sorry for that verbal avalanche yesterday guys and then continue on my merry way, surrounded by my miniature long-haired english cream dachshunds and crushes from afar, telling perverse jokes and laughing like a donkey cause today never really happened. Maybe.

Let me just say this once. I'm not naive. I'm not silly. I know I could be fretting about a lot worse. But this is my band, my original music family potentially ending and I have every right to own these emotions.

So it is, I still sit in this coffee shop seven hours after I first got here, five hours after my brunch dates left, still obsessively checking the Marah forum for some answers. A lot of the people in my life brush it off as just some funny news about this band I've traveled out east for many times, and I certainly don’t begrudge them that. They don’t really understand what it is for me, how much it means. Most of them haven't seen me with this family. And that's everything. So that's why I checked my phone and computer constantly today. I need the connection to people that are a part of that world.

In September, Tab, Kat, Tommy, Jesse & I were piled on top of each other in Tommy's truck, screaming and laughing on our way to the concert, winding through downtown Philly, a city I've visited several times because of Marah shows and have come to cherish in all its grimy drunken glory. Jesse played Josh Ritter on the stereo and in my one beer buzz I said a little too loudly, "God this is great." Yeah, I was talking about Josh Ritter, who I knew nothing about at that time, but it really applied to that one car ride. It seemed like such an insignificant time in comparison to the rest of the week which involved choking up on Chinatown buses, puking in alleyways, dancing drunkenly in pubs to our band, overflowing toilets and late night Ike Reilly pillow talk. No not all of that was me. But I was a part of it all. Well...we sat on each other, crammed into the truck, bubbling over with Marah excitement. These people, who range in age from mid 20s to late 40s, are all part of a family to me. We've basically seen the very best and the almost worst of each other. And, for me, all this connection is crammed into a couple weekends a year. Josh was our soundtrack for that exact moment.

I can’t listen to Marah's music right now. I can’t do it, not one damn song or kickass youtube video. Instead I listen to Josh Ritter because his song on my 2007 Jonesie Obsession Mix was the impetus for my what would have been the year in reflection piece. Like all the hand holding high fives and screaming sobs of recognition that was the November Bruce Springsteen concert at Xcel, this memory in the truck somehow floated above practically everything else from this year as one of my most treasured moments. Josh Ritter is the easiest music for me to listen to right now, consoling me, connecting me to the memories I have of that family, that truck ride in downtown Philly when we had the entire night, the entire record, the entire tour and future ahead of us. It's that bond that runs rampant amongst us Marah fans.

Thus you see it’s not just a band, it’s my east coast rock’n’roll family and we are texting and calling each other like mad right now. They get it. I called Tab, my doppleganger, this morning. I texted with several other east coasters this afternoon. I stood outside this evening, without my coat (cause it was saving my coffee shop table), to talk to Texas Kat about what we thought would have been a rad rock’n’roll party on January 26th. As my teeth chattered incessantly, we talked about the future of Marah.

Some may listen to Marah and say what’s the big fucking deal; I don't get it; they are too this or not enough that. I still believe they aren’t really a studio band; that's not their strength at all. They’re a live force. I recognize all their flaws but I love them FOR those flaws, not in spite of them. When I made my first trip out east for the Philly Holiday show of 2005, at one point I literally grabbed my gut and had the thought “This is perfect. This is exactly what my life is about.” People that I had just met were giving me air high fives from across the crowded venue, buying me drinks, cheering with me. To all of them out there, I’m Lexy. I never corrected them and told them that I actually never have gone by Lexy, that it was just a stupid screen name I had used online since I had been in middle school. It wouldn’t be right if they called me Alexa. It’s Lexy. Out there, I love it so much. I feel like a different person, someone who really is pretty and brave and full of confidence.

And that dual personality is something I am trying almost everyday to reconcile. This year in particular, because of the arts I have explored and the people I have become close to in my own city, I have felt closer to owning it than ever before. I guess in short that’s what Marah has given me: a real glimpse into the person I know I can be. All the joy and madness and honesty and love and flirt I am capable of has come out time and again at those shows. All of that is beginning to spill over into my everyday life here and wherever else I end up.

In 2007, I sold and gave or threw away most everything I owned and left my apartment of three years. I’m sleeping on a couch in a living room right now because of the money that I’ve spent on rock’n’roll. It’s not a difficult sacrifice cause my roommate is like a sister to me but it’s a sacrifice nonetheless, one that will lead to real options for my future. I could have boatloads of camera equipment, nice clothes, nice furniture, a nice room all to myself, but I don’t. I have boatloads of rock’n’roll memories all over this nation instead. I have a Bruce Springsteen obsession that has birthed this drive in me to seek out connection.

Over and over again, I have said or referred to my fellow Marah devotees as my East Coast concert family. My sporatically overwhelming sense of sadness is based on this very real fear that this family is falling apart. I don't want to be pessimistic and I'm usually not. It's just that when all else seemed to be over or failing in my life, these people and these future adventures were there for me. If Marah ends, when will I see my Doppleganger again, or Kat, Tommy, Jesse, Chris, Matt, Larry, Bridgid, Andrea, Leonora, Cline, Richelle, Liz, Billie Jo, Starsky, Ktristi, Adam, Kirk, Dave or anyone else I didn't list who I have connected with so strongly at those shows? When I met my Minnesota music family and hung out with most of them that first night at the CC Club, talking about music and life and pouring my heart out about Bruce Springsteen until 2am, the first thing I told some friends was “Something happened tonight. I felt in Minneapolis what I feel on the east coast with my Marah family over and over and over again.”

So, if this really is the end, thank you endlessly to Marah and every single person that involves...

The Rock'n'Roll Triptych

2008-01-13T03:58:00.000-06:00

T'was a mighty fine night at the Turf, indeed!

Babies are easy...

2008-01-07T16:04:00.000-06:00

Seriously, it's not hard to get good shots of cute kids. I'm just proud of this one in particular.

Albrisha: T'is A Blessed Tradition

2008-01-02T13:27:00.000-06:00

It's dorky and awesome and too weird to try to validate. Just know it started two years ago, the latest installment rung in the current New Year, and it's a tradition my New York family and I take far too seriously. In a blessed way.

ALBRISHA I-IV

Albrisha

Albrisha II: Carmine's Revenge

Albrisha III: Attack of the Nuts

Albrisha 2008: Rachel's Reckoning

To be continued...

It's finally happened!

2007-11-26T00:45:00.000-06:00

I've fallen in love!

I mean...HOW COULD YOU NOT LET THIS ADORABLY NAUGHTY MUTANT-LY FANTASTIC PUPPY IN!?!?!?!?!?!

Remember Fanny, the best Christmas Present EVER? Well, now she's a year old, still my mama's baby and the cutest little pisser to ever prance through my family's life.

Busy Busy Busy Buzz Buzz Gobble Gobble

2007-11-21T15:10:00.001-06:00

Danny's the Man

2007-11-21T00:49:00.000-06:00

Tonight, I begin the process of real change. I packed my car full of the art that lined my walls for 3.5 years, the wooden masks and tapestries, the Dalis and Picasso my father got as a gift from his crazy, independently wealthy friend who had been murdered by the maids. Carmine, my only pet, my porcelain greyhound who weighs a ton is currently strapped into the passenger seat of my Honda. I'm meeting my parents at my sister's apartment in Des Moines for Thanksgiving. They are taking my art, much of my home, back to Missouri. It's everything I'm not giving to Goodwill or selling and all that takes up half of my living room. My bed, for now, will be put in a friend's basement. I'm only keeping a little with me cause I'm moving in with my WonderTwin. For the next however many months, I will be a glorified vagrant with a car full of personal belongings. After those however many months, I stay in Minneapolis with a lot less crap or I move to NYC with a lot less crap. Less crap includes less debt. I will have options for the first time ever and, more importantly, courage.

Courage to get older.

Tonight, I read that yesterday's Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band show in Boston was to be Danny Federici's last. Fuck. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Danny Federici has been with Bruce from the very beginning. He's one of the few E Street originals. They grew up together, cosmic kids in full costume dress.

He's a backbone, an E Street brother and he's sick. It's all unofficial reporting as of yet but it's real. Danny's getting older, yes, but he's younger than Bruce. He's 57 years old. Maybe this hyper extreme but it feels very much like the beginning of the end.

Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band are supposed to play forever. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band are immortal, right? Right? This news has caused that lump in my throat, tears welling in my eyes that just might explode at any moment. I'm not stupid and I'm certainly not that naive. Immortality doesn't exist even with my Bruce Springsteen. My Bruce & the E Street Band.

When this album and tour were announced, this guy I know said "what's the big deal about Bruce and this band?" I wrote hundreds and hundreds of words about what a big fucking deal it was. This is Bruce's rock'n'roll family, his Jersey shore brothers and they will forever be a part of that explosive Magic. When I saw the final show of The Rising tour four years ago, Bruce held hands with everyone and they cried. There's so much love up on that stage and it just won't go away when the show ends. Every damn time I play a song where Danny's organ and keyboard soars, his legacy will keep on rocking.

Danny's THE Man

Thankfully, Danny's last show was a celebration, a party, a stellar set-list that had many shining moments from the Man himself. I can't wait for this bootleg and full reports from a Minnesota Bruce friend who was lucky enough to see this show. When Bruce and the Band took their bows, the audience, those thousands of fans, chanted Danny's name as Bruce hugged him goodbye. The tour will continue without Danny Federici. And in Boston, he received a joyous farewell.

And what else do you do? If you're Nils, you spend as much time as you can up on the organ riser, playing shoulder-to-shoulder. If you're Bruce, you head over to Danny during the bows at show's end and throw your arm around him, with a look on your face that says "godammit, I know we said we weren't going to talk about this tonight, but you can't stop me from doing this," and you bring him to the center of the pack, and he takes a bow of his own. And if you're the crowd, you chant "Danny! Danny! Danny!" It was as spontaneous as the "E Street Band" chant at Madison Square Garden on July 1, 2000 -- with fewer dry eyes, I imagine, both onstage and off.
~backstreets.com

An amazing video from Danny's final bow...

May this coming time bring Danny lots of love, health and peace as he steps off the stage and returns to his family and home. There's an overwhelming army of E Street Band lovers, a world of rock'n'roll fans, out there who will always cherish and rock out to Danny the Man.

EDIT: Okay...so maybe last night's post of Danny's finale was a bit hasty and dramatic. Hopefully. An official statement has been released and he has taken a leave of absence to pursue treatment for melanoma. Many healthy thoughts and prayers for a recovery are being sent your way, Danny! I'm gonna hold on to the hope that Danny the Man WILL be back!

Well THIS makes my heart explode...

2007-11-07T09:03:00.001-06:00

THANK YOU, KYLE!
THANK YOU, BRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCE!
Oh...and you HAVE to read this.

For one night, the rock 'n' roll rats ruled the world!

I play this for you, Katherine.

2007-10-28T17:53:00.000-05:00

I knew I wanted to go to St. Olaf from the moment I stepped into the theatre building during my first visit. The students were friendly, genuine, supportive. I felt like I could grow up there, become the student, the artist and the person I had only dreamt about. I felt it instantly. It was the only school to which I applied. Four years later, I graduated with honors and distinction. I walked across to accept my diploma with all my family taking pictures, my friends cheering and my Pappy, my theatre mentor, slapping the stage as I crossed. I had traveled across the world, worked on dozens of plays, hundreds of scenes and monologues. There were countless all nighters in the theatre building, running around on the catwalk, smoking, drinking, writing papers, working through homework for Gateways to Math or Intro to Psych or Creative Non Fiction, building models and sets, reading scripts until your brain felt like it would burst. I had screamed with joy and wept in the arms of those I love. As lofty and dramatic as it may all seem, I had indeed grown up there.

People, students, will criticize St. Olaf for the insular bubble that's built around you. For four years, you have very little concept of the world outside of the hill. You are in the minority if you are not a blonde Lutheran who wears Norwegian sweaters and sings in liturgical choirs. You are pumped full of this ideal that you can take on and accomplish anything. Then you are thrown into society and it beats you down and you realize your dreams are not necessarily available for you to attain. But you, I, keep working and keep fighting. I will not stop dreaming. I lost my drive for theatre but I cannot put down my camera. I would never regret the 15 years I spent in the theatre world and dedicating myself to that major. Everything I learned in that program made me the artist I am today. Theatre will always be a part of who I am. To me, this school that inspired me was home. It was family. You can't help but connect with the people you create with. Whether or not you left as one of their best friends or best enemies, they were still very much a part of what you had become. We were this small, wacky community who bled for the stage. We were bound by those plays we stayed up all hours producing. We screamed out at each other, yelled in the Caf too much, gossiped too much, made out too much, drank too much, sang too much, worked too much. If someone who didn't go to St. Olaf is thrown into the environment, you can't help but see how we were bound to each other. Taco, my Arizona born roommate of two years, called me today to make sure I was okay, to talk about my school and program that she had been thrown into countless times. Even if you weren't really close to a fellow theatre major, the school and program were small enough that if someone attended at the same time you did, you knew them. My BA in Theatre from St. Olaf College is part of my Jonesie family tree.

One of our family members has died. Violently, inexplicably murdered because she answered an ad on craigslist for a nanny position.

Katherine Olson, 1983-2007

I got into my car on Saturday after photographing my friend Justin at a skate park. There was a message from Shipley telling me to call him back immediately. His voice was scratched and desperate on the phone. One of our Olaf family members had been murdered.

She was three years younger than me. We weren't very close but I remember that smile, her mass of curly red hair and the joy she emanated. I have a vivid memory of seeing her in the theatre office, bounce in as I stood in the doorway by Pappy's office. I stood there often, almost everyday. The regular hoodlums always stopped by to pass the time. Katherine made you happy. Friendly. Beautiful. Bright. She was the sweetest burst of light and joy.

This image, one that is all over the papers and the internet, captures her perfectly...

Katherine Olson is gone. I cannot even fully grasp the magnitude of the disgusting tragedy. One detail in particular haunts me. I think she suffered tremendously. I pray she didn't. I hope with everything I have that she didn't. It's not fair or right and it hurts me to the core. The Oles need one another right now.

It's times like this where I wish that church going religion was a part of my life, that I could believe in something concrete. I want to know that there's a heaven and hell. I've never believed in the death penalty but I want whomever did this to Katherine to suffer. He doesn't deserve friends, family or even a future. He doesn't deserve to breathe in air or taste food or laugh ever again. A complete stranger ripped Katherine from this world when she was only 24 years old. My tears fall and heart hurts for her family, her close friends that would have sacrificed anything for her, those many people she touched in her short life.

Today, I feel it. I am reading her memorial facebook thread, the hundreds of members whose lives she has touched leave dedications that soar. Maybe it hits me because I'm deliriously tired and sitting in my apartment alone listening to my music, my endless companion.

Maybe I don't go to church or have a religion in the traditional sense but I believe in the spirit of life. That energy that pulsates through your guts and mind and out into the world, into another person, can't disappear when the body is gone. It's electricity that's released into the air, maybe the heavens. I believe with all my heart that Katherine will once again be with those she loves.

Katherine's soul will never fade. Her memory is eternal.

I have listened to Mark Olson's Clifton Bridge over and over again today, maybe 100 times. It means that much more to me now. My favorite song of the year that represents my city and community and family. Listen to it. After I watched my city break in two as a bridge and our citizens fell into the river, after I saw one of my own fall months later, this song is that much more precious to me.

My mother paid me the highest compliment a couple weeks ago. She said I was capable of such great happiness. I will forever take that with me. Thank you endlessly to those who inspire me and help me to thrive, to every wacky citizen with whom I dance and sing and create.

Embrace love and joy. Embrace your family and friends. Embrace life and your passions. This could have been any of us. Everything could be gone in an instant. Cherish it with all your heart. To every single person that has touched my life, from the moment I was born, this song is for you. Tonight, I play this song especially for you, Katherine.

My thoughts and prayers are with Katherine Olson, her family and her friends. Her future is not for this earth but somewhere far greater.

There is a hope in our hearts. There is a future in our soul.
~Clifton Bridge, for Katherine

To life, to love, in no particular order...

I am SERIOUSLY blessed. Thank you.

Alexa Jones

2007-10-23T22:00:00.001-05:00

So...everyone has done it. If you haven't done it, you are either a lying sack of sh*t or over the age of 50. And if you are reading this blog, then you've done it. Don't lie to me. Cyber me knows everything. You've definitely done it.

Google searched your own name.

When you google search "Alexa Jones", four people of note will be presented to you.

1) Me, a photographer and Springsteen obsessee: naturally
2) Private Escort: Not me
3) Fire-fighter by day/Porn Star by night: Not me

And finally...

4) Miss f*cking Alabama in the 2006 Miss America pageant: SO not me

I sort of resented number four for tarnishing the good name of 1 thru 3...until this happened...

A few days ago, I logged into my yahoo and found this gem in my own personal inbox:

Hello Alexa Jones,
My name is Alexis ******. I am 13 years old, and in the 8th grade at ***** Middle School, in ********** Alabama. First off, I would like to say that you are, without a doubt, my role model. I know you are from Andalusia Alabama, because my dad is from there, and of course my grandparents still live there. So on a trip down to Andalusia, I saw a sign with your picture on it and how you are from Andalusia and you've won pageants. Well, I have been in 10 pageants myself, and (not to bragg) have won 8 out of 10. So I thought that was just awesome to know that a true beauty queen from a little town in Alabama has gotten so far.
Then I later on found out that you do the news on TV too. Now that just blew my mind. Because one day I hope to go to Auburn and get a broadcasting dergree, and be on the news, just like you.
It has always been my dream to be Miss America, and be on the news. I think it is so awesome that we have so much in common. Not only are our names kind of alike, but we both are from Alabama, and we want the same things. One day I hope to be just like you. You are amazing.

Here is a picture of me winning my school pageant. Just so you can see who I am.
Alexis ******
P.S. Please write back.

And THIS picture was most definitely attached:

Yes, I pooped my pants laughing when I saw this. And...Uhhh...yes, I did photoshop the charmingly realistic face into the shot (believe it or not.) I also refrained from keeping any REALLY specific info in the email (she may be the living reincarnation of Jon Benet but she doesn't deserve to be spewed all over the internet...at least not this year.) Besides my stars, that email is exactly as is, spelling mistakes and all.

I felt like no little girl who just emailed her idol deserves to be left hanging. And, PUHLEASE, this was just a perfect opportunity. While I wanted really to write "Oh you've GOT to be effin' kidding me, princess, I ain't no effin' beauty queen!", this was my reply:

Dear Alexis,

I just wanted to let you know that you have emailed the wrong Alexa Jones. I am not now nor was I ever a Miss America contestant. I am a 26 year old girl who lives in Minneapolis and loves music (you've got to check out Bruce Springsteen), photography (especially at the many concerts I attend), the arts in general (I've been involved in really awesome theatre and dance productions), writing, traveling, inspiration, education and wiener dogs. I've never won any swimsuit contests but I have the most amazing family, friends and life stories. Happiness comes in many forms. I hope that someday I'll influence someone like your Alexa Jones has influenced you. Good luck finding your idol!

Sincerely,
Alexa Jones

Oh Alexis SixStars, I hope you realize that there is more than one type of Alexa Jones out there.

Oh yeah. On a mind-blowing fantastic final note...

When you write the song (and we know you will), get the name right. It's Alexa. And don't forget the Jones.

I am writing THE song, b*tches!

A map I DEFINITELY could follow...

2007-10-16T10:57:00.000-05:00

I'm getting that entire thing tattooed to my back, and probably half my ass, and well maybe all of it, and maybe it'll reach around a little to my front. Grrrr...

Marah & My Midwest Memory of the East

2007-10-08T18:19:00.000-05:00

I'm broke. Broker than I've ever been broke. Without the help of my friends, I'd be fucked. But I am slowly fixing it. And dreaming extra big for the end of this suffocating journey.

Seriously, hatred for one's job can lead to a reckless denial (I'm not talking about lines of gold laced coke off of a Puerto Rican hooker or anything, just too many expensive trips, camera lenses and meals out.) But I don't hate my job any more. Cause I got a new one. The Department Store can kiss my ass-as-big-as-a-muthafucka goodbye.

As I was walking down University Ave after my new job last Wednesday, enjoying the sunlight and looking forward to a night of home cooked meals, awesomely shitty television and editing photos, I thought about how great it would be if I were in a position to be financial free. At that moment, I would get a scoop of sorbet from the Crema Cafe and sit in their quaint Italian garden that overlooks Lyndale. But I need real food and the occasional cup of coffee (I've stopped drinking lattes cause they are just too expensive). I have seven dollars to get me through the week. I've got seven dollars to my name.

OH MY GOD

I just stopped dead in my tracks and mouthed the phrase "oh my god."

SEVEN DOLLARS TO MY NAME

That one phrase sparked the memory of song to me, my Marah song.
Smiling, I started singing softly to myself and moved forward again.

Got seven dollars to my name
Got sixteen cigarettes somehow I just ain't smoked yet
Got two shoelaces and two shoes
I should toss ‘em on the telephone wire as a monument to my blues

I'm goin' down to get a coffee
Gonna mean one less buck
Maybe six will bring me luck
Got a little shake I kept in the fridge
Gonna drink my bean and walk out smoking on the Walt Whitman Bridge

Faraway from these winter streets
On a cloudless day
Your memory
Blows away

Got a leather wallet on a chain
Got a picture of my lover's lips before they dried up under my kiss
A prayer in my heart I'm too scared to recite
Oughtta toss that stale loaf of words to the birds as a monument to my whole life.

I felt the connection in my gut. For that moment, for that seven seconds maybe, Marah made okay. I was so good.

For the rest of my Marah rock 'n roll weekend in Philly & NYC(and the peaceful times on the city streets & Coney Island), press here.

I'm not dead, just wandering...

2007-10-02T18:09:00.000-05:00

You know what the small, furry human-like creatures and the tall, furry human-like Jonesie said...

All those who wander are not lost.

I'm giving up everything I believe in & moving to Texas.

2007-08-26T02:50:00.000-05:00

I see a lot of myself in Miss 6:13. I have that mug. And that poster. And that stuffed animal. And...

I am Proud to be an American Wiener.

Don't judge me for this post (as if I give a f*ck...WEENIES RULE!) Got to ease back into blogging.

Dress me up, Jason.

2007-07-27T23:37:00.000-05:00

It is no secret that I've have been involved in a long standing love affair with the Drive-By Truckers. From the first moment that I put in and listened straight through to Southern Rock Opera on a drive down to Missouri three years ago, to blaring Zip City on my weekly walk home across the Hennepin Ave Bridge two years ago, to screaming my brains out when the band, playing at First Ave, broke into The Day John Henry Died on the stroke of midnight last year, the exact second it had become my 25th birthday. I fucking love the Drive-By Truckers.

And...

I have the biggest boner school girl crush on this guy.

(taken by cheap point and shoot)

No, he's not smoking hot but when I watch him play, I get all mooshy. He's reeeeeeeally cute, he rocks and he breaks my heart. His lyrics and voice are stellar. And THAT makes him dreamy. When I found out that this guy, this guitar shredder, wrote Decoration Day, Outfit, and The Day John Henry Died, which are three of my top 5 DBT songs, I pretty much ripped off my clothes, beat my breast, did some sort of Southern jig and wept. Yes, this crush is based purely on watching and listening to him sing as I know nothing about his character and very little about his life(besides the fact that he has good taste in books, movies and tv and likes cheerios...thank you myspace.) All I, M. Alexandra Jones, really need to know is that he's (one of) my rock-n-roll boyfriends(). I also know he's 28 years old (so young, so much closer to me in age than my rock-n-roll husband.) Though his myspace says otherwise (stop teasing my cyberworld), I know he's married (like that's ever stopped me) to Shonna Tucker who can jam, beat and drink me under the table. Not only does Shonna play bass, which of course means she's extra stealth and cool, but she plays bass in the Drive-By Truckers. I laugh hysterically at wiener dogs, would most definitely lose in a fight, and get tipsy off of one beer.

(taken by jealous cheap point and shoot)

Sadly, I also know Jason, as of April of 2007, left the Drive-By Truckers. I guess my dream of hearing Zip City live will no longer be fulfilled with him a part of that rock-n-roll monster. Yes, Jason and Shonna are still married. Yes, I am still in denial.

I didn't mourn the DBT departure for long. Jason Isbell left the band for a noble purpose, to pursue a solo career and thus released Sirens of the Ditch on July 10th. Last week, I returned a gift to Electric Fetus which validated my spending money on an album...I had three I was deciding on and Jason (due to the upcoming show and the fierce dedication to DBT) won.

Thank the beautiful breast beating gods because melikey.

I fell in love with Track 5, Dress Blue, when I first heard him play it when he opened for Son Volt a few months ago (and blew Jay Farrar out of the fucking water.) Track 4 and Track 10 have gotten me through the last week. I've listened to them over and over and over again as I've driven to and from work, to and from rehearsal, to and from shows, to and from reality.

No, I don't love every song on the album. But I adore some and thoroughly enjoy almost all of them. I can't stop listening to my Magician do the Chicago Promenade. I can't wait to see what comes of Jason Isbell's solo career.

I can't wait for his in-store appearance at the Fetus tomorrow. I can't wait for his show afterward at the 400 Bar. I can't wait to have my camera with me. I can't wait to stand there and get all (calmly and subtley...I swear) mooshy. I can't wait to have my heart broken by my Southern singer.

TOMORROW IS JASON ISBELL DAY!

EDIT: Kyle told me at the in-store that Jason and Shonna divorced. I actually turned red. RED! I AM APPARANTELY A TEENAGE GIRL! More to come...

Revive Me

2007-07-23T01:46:00.000-05:00

I'm knee deep in three different lives right now. Music & Photography, Theatre, That Job. Stressed, tired and haggard. Driving home at 3am listening to Billy Bragg or Ryan Adams and not pulling into my apartment building because I want the freedom of riding through the night with my windows open and the music blaring probably a little too loudly to be winding through residential streets. Sometimes crying.

I hate my job, that's no secret, but I have no time to look for a new one. Days off quickly fill with photography or fringe assignments. Nights fill with anxiety dreams about showing up late to work one more time and getting canned. Late night texts to my NYC friends asking them to call me at EST to make sure I am up and out of bed at CST. I need to remind myself to eat because I'll have a bowl of cereal, maybe, hopefully some lunch and then all of a sudden it's 10pm and I haven't eaten anything since shoving that bowl of couscous down my throat while crouching behind the counter at work. Then, I'll see a banana or smell a pork chop cooking and all of a sudden I'll realize I'm really really hungry.

Soon, that fringe show will be done. Yeah, you better come to that fringe show. We've worked our ass off. Then, I will be done with theatre (maybe forever.) And I will sit down and send off my resume to any company that makes me feel like I actually am a valued employee. And I will find a new job and get that part time job I've always wanted. And I will do my Burlesque show which rehearses once a week. And I will work so hard that I can afford that $1400 lens I know will give me those shots I'm dying to get. And I will visit my home in Missouri and sit with my cat Ginger cause she isn't gonna live that much longer.

Jim asked me yesterday what my story was, whether or not I had a man, whether or not I wanted a man. I started speaking in tongues because I wasn't sure how to answer. (No, Aunt Barbara, I'm not a lesbian. I'm just 26 years old and way too independent for my own good. Or maybe I'm JUST 26 years old and don't need to bring a man home to the crazy farm just yet.)

Settling down is not my style. Right now. Maybe forever. I also know that someday I'll figure out how to let someone else really be a part of my life.

Right now. I am never home. I am working full time. I am shooting shows. I am going to shows. I am assisting a photographer. I am being sent to take portraits by myself which both scares and excites the shit out of me. I am working on a fringe show. I am creating Tipsy St. Swingsteen's next venture into Burlesquedom. I am texting my WonderTwin or eating enchiladas at 3am with new friends that are quickly becoming better friends. I am calling home regularly. I am unwinding right now by listening to music, editing photos and staying up way way too late.

I manage to get through this month by making an extra large cup of french press in the morning and laughing ridiculously with my friends during the day and seeing my music at night. During the songs, there are times that are so extraordinarily cathartic and joyous that I realize why I dedicate so much of my time to music. I stand dancing with my WonderTwin to Jesse Malin as he belts out Wendy. I stand with tears in my eyes as I listen to Jesse Malin in the middle of the Fine Line in the Middle of downtown Minneapolis. I love his songs, his stories, his awesome New York accent. I get choked up during Maria Isa's Puerto Rican hip-hop anthems at Babette's Bastille Days. "Don't cry," I tell myself. "Don't cry. You can't fucking cry during hip-hop in the middle of the broad daylight." But her beautiful, empowering chants wash over me and tears begin to fall down my cheeks. I drive by myself to the Turf Club and stand with my community as I listen to JoAnna James revive me all over again. I get grounded again as I sit in my safety spot to relax and shoot the Midsummer Hoot. I dance with Jim while sheepishly grinning during Tim O’Reagan. I don’t shoot every show. My camera sits still on my desk or my bed as I stand and tear up all by myself, with my friends, as I dance to Heiruspecs like the “white honkey bitch” I am. That's how I get through my week.

Jesse Malin @ The Fine Line 7-12-07

Maria Isa @ Barbette’s Bastille Day 7-15-07

JoAnna James @ The Turf Club's Revival Show 7-15-07

Davis Jones @ The Mad Ripple Hootenany 7-20-07

Tim O'Reagan @ The 400 Bar 7-20-07

Oh yeah. ButtPlug called me on Saturday and gave me some totally fucking awesome news. Flights for my precious were $180. A payment plan was working out. Which meant...which means...I AM GOING TO NEW YORK FUCKING CITY IN SEPTEMBER!! I'll get to see Spring Awakening. I'll be making a pit stop in Philly for two night cause...I'LL GET TO SEE FOUR FUCKING MARAH SHOWS!!!!! (I've already planned it: two to get shit-faced at and dance my ass off with my east coast concert crew and two to shoot at with my fancy camera and dance my ass off with my east coast concert crew.) I'll get to be ridiculous with my Doppleganger. I'll get to see my Cliff. I'll get to stay up all night with my ButtPlug and my Shaly. I'll get to wander the streets of a city I love with all my heart.

I never get sick of that video.

My heart is racing just thinking about that trip.

In September, I am moving (to a new apartment.) One of my best friends is moving (to Germany.) In September, Brucey is/better be coming out with a new album. In September, I'll have a new job. In September, I'll sleep more, eat more well rounded meals, date more (yeah right...god I hate dating,) dance more, exercise more, write more, take more photos. In September, I'll fall further in love with Minneapolis. In September, I'm pretty sure I won't have settled down at all.

My father is an amazing man.

2007-07-20T15:04:00.000-05:00

vmj = Victoria McCanse Jones = My Mama (who is spending 3 weeks taking care of the bird room in the basement by herself)
bj = Bill Jones = My Father (who is spending 3 weeks in Ethiopia)

Remind me of your father's huge heart (see attached) whenever I get frustrated with the mess in the bird room!
He's a good man.
Take care. I love you both.
Mom

Attached...

vmj: I am back in Mekele been to yecihila, and have left. Kidane is a bit difficult to work with regarding the 501c3, but i think we will work it out. findhing the right people here and getting the # are my concerns. hopefullyisaac's father and isaac will agree to help. Kidane wants someone from the village, but they are illeterate. today i bought beds, mattresses, sheets and pillows. kidane will be here tomorrow o help purchases kitchen stuff. the building is good, but too big and too many rooms. not sure how that is going to be worked out. not too many students the first year. I have been to an ethiopian prison and it made me cry. david the boy from yecila was sent there for stealing. isaac and i visited him and it was the most heartbreaking experience i have had. to see a 14 year old boy crawl out hole in wall will live me for a long time. I gave money to the prison so that he could get a new trial and am sending him clothes and a blanket. he was in rags. he cried when he saw us. he burned kidane and she does not like him, but i told her ihe has a room in the building mistake or no mistake. i have some people that will check on him as he may hav a year or more left. did what i thought was right, but know that it may not workout for him. can only try. hope that all is well at home and will look forward to returning. I have lost weight as i have been living on tea and bread as much as i can. here in mekele i eat pasta often. will fly back to addis on tusday. the bus rides have generally been good. some of the road from addis to mekele slid off the mountain because of the rains. fortunately it was after my trip. take care and love, bj

I do my own voice-over work.

2007-07-18T03:01:00.000-05:00

Alexa Jones

PLUS

Bruce Springsteen

EQUALS

What Ike Said, What I Saw

2007-07-05T02:38:00.000-05:00

Last Friday, I crouched behind Tony Nelson in the green room of The Cabooze as Ike Reilly, his groupies and his band sat in front of us.

Tony snapped portraits as I manned the light box. Ike, who I had been introduced to about ten minutes prior, looked drunkenly, directly at me.

"You are very put together," he remarked.
"Thank you," I answered quietly, smiling.

Tony swiveled around laughing, "Was he talking to you?"

I sorta answered but stayed focused on observing, occasionally attempting wit but mostly staying silent, trying to learn, dressed in my light blue western shirt with stars and sparrows, a navy blue bandanna, and bright red lips.

Focused and accessorized had thus translated to put together. Flattered and sweaty, my feet were scratched and sticky from a beer bottle that had been broken and fallen against my Chaco's, my ears rang from a lack of plugs (IwilllearnmylessonIwilllearnmylessonIwilllearnmylesson,) and the bright red long-wearing lipstick had actually cracked and coagulated on my lips.

In other words, I had just witnessed one helluva rock show.

At one point, as I was snapping a (few) hundred live shots for my archives, my musical WonderTwin and her HowWasTheShow review, Tommy Odonnell's mic stand began to fall from the stage towards the audience and specifically right onto me. My first instinct was to cover my camera and, by doing so, the stand hit me right on the head. I lifted up one hand and my audience neighbor lifted it the rest of the way up. Everyone else danced and cheered along, unfazed.

I was completely fine, it felt like an awkward, embarrassing tap, but Tommy looked down from the stage, horrified. He reached for my hand, grabbed it and shouted above the music.

"I'M SO SORRY! DID I HIT YOUR CAMERA OR YOUR HEAD???"
"MY HEAD...BUT IT'S BETTER THAT WAY!" I screamed.
"BUT I CAN BUY YOU A NEW CAMERA! I CAN'T BUY YOU A NEW HEAD!" he screamed.
"IT'S FINE! I'M FINE!" I screamed.

One helluva show.

I knelt down and just kept observing a photographer and a rocker. Many girls and a few boys lined up to get their picture taken, meet him, say hi. Ike and the band remembered some and welcomed others. Girls piled on top of each other just to sit close to him. Everyone except me and Tony seemed drunk, especially Ike, who rested against the fake wood paneling in his wife-beater, torn jeans, and slicked back hair, like a lost cast member of Grease.

"Are you seriously okay?" Tommy asked again.
"Seriously, I am. I'm really hard headed. But I'll send you any medical bills," I answered.
"Sure, the Ike Reilly Insurance Policy will cover any damages!" he answered back, smiling.

I kept watching Ike with his doting fans and I got this overwhelming sense of third party observer. It was like I was watching who I had been with so many of my rockers whom I love and follow (and hoping I wasn't that drunk or doting.) I was watching me the first time I met the Bielanko brothers. Ike was awesome and I had a great time at that show but I am just a casual fan. I don't own all his albums, don't know most of his songs and this was only my first concert of his (though not my last, for sure.) I just couldn't stop thinking of Marah, which makes me want this NYC/Philly trip to happen with every fiber of my rock fan being. It's not Bruce because I've never met Bruce, only shook his hand and watched him through his tinted van window (that is not/maybe is a little as creepy as it sounds.) Meeting the Marah boys in Brooklyn '05 was my first real experience with musical idols becoming real people to have drunken conversations with. It was awesome then and an awesome site to observe now.

"Thanks guys so much!" I waved as we left, lugging all the camera gear around my dirty shoulders. "That was so awesome! Have fun!"

It all felt so normal, like I was a part of this musical world. It was normal and huge at the same time.

Before I was a rock fan, I was Little Miss Broadway. I was raised on trips to the theatre in downtown Kansas City. For a good eighteen years, that was what I loved, that's the majority of music that made me cry and yelp with joy. My dear biotech's recent blog entry not only had me aching for a return trip to NYC but reminded me of one of the greatest examples of Jonesie ridiculousness.

An EXTREME guilty pleasure in my past (and still sorta current) showtune loving repertoire is the song Mr. Mistoffelees from Cats. For some god awful reason, it just made (makes) me happy...further evidence that I am indeed a flaming homosexual in a woman's body.

Hello....GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY (and creepy)!

Jonesie Ridiculousness: My parents took my sister and I to Cats a few times growing up. One of those times, we were about ten rows back. I fell asleep some time after the show started. Head down, dead asleep. Until that bone rattling drum beat/horn blow when Mr. Mistoffelees comes flying down from the ceiling.

With the mancat flying down from the ceiling and the orchestra swelling, I was jolted awake, flew back into my seat and I crossed myself, Eastern Orthodox style. What. the. FUCK!?!?!? I have no earthly idea why that was my first instinct. I'm not sure who else saw me. All I remember is being completely disoriented (and yet completely mesmerized.) It's almost as if the gods were speaking to me through the power of the cats and their giant codpieces. I blame it on that mysterious pussy power.

That is why I'll never be as cool as Ike Reilly.

Pick up a copy of vita.mn, FLIP TO PAGE 4!

2007-06-22T02:24:00.000-05:00

You'll see this photo taken by me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cami Airisol: Winner of the Air Guitar Championship @ The Varsity

It's my first photo that has ever been published in print. In a deal that happened in about a two hour time slot yesterday, I got my FIRST PHOTO EVER PUBLISHED IN PRINT!

Plus, they paid me...another first...which fucking rules on many MANY levels...because now I can actually pay my T-mobile bill with real money and not love bucks.

Check out the online version here.

I only told a few people about it yesterday. My sister called me and woke me up this morning to congratulate me. I couldn't stand still at work. I wouldn't fully believe it until I saw it. I was worried that, even though I signed a contract and spoke with the woman several times and she even told me what page it would be on, it wasn't going to be there. When I got to the red brick apartment on the corner, Jen and I, at her urging, went romping through the streets of Uptown to find a copy of vita.mn. Through the sticker blanketed window, we saw it in CD Warehouse. I ran in...my heart was racing...I opened the paper and THERE IT WAS! Jen just started squealing. I'm pretty sure I made a boner comment. It was so wonderful.

And, to quote Jen, "it's bigger than the Ryan Adams picture!!!!!"

Then we made a promise to each other to continue working really hard, keep one another in check and never sell our souls to Noah's Arcade.

This makes me so happy.

YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!

I am proud of this. I also am REALLY motivated to move forward, a wonderful feeling. I want to do this. I want to work at this. I have so very very very much more to learn. I sure do love this camera thing an awful lot.

First stop, air guitar. Next stop, Bruce wrapped only in an American Flag for the cover of JONESIE JAMZ.

Kiddin' I'm done now.

In short, pick up a copy of vita.mn!

Also, I have really amazing friends who support me on so many levels, even when I ramble, even when I talk too loudly, even when I'm a mass of tears. I must have done something right to have these awesome characters in my life. It really does make me feel as if there's an army beside me. So...thank you!

DOUBLE YAY!

T'is a phenomenon...

2007-06-21T01:15:00.001-05:00

A phenomenon called THE JONESIE FACE!

Just to prove that something exists beyond The Jonesie Face...

Good times with HowWasTheShow.com. Good times with The Girls (& The George, The Carl & The Alex.) Good times at The Nomad. Good times at The Spins (especially when The Laptop is not The Stolen.) Good times, indeed.

Oh my god. Oh my god. OH MY GOOOOOOD!!!!

2007-06-18T02:43:00.000-05:00

The time is nigh.

Online Videos by Veoh.com

Twin Cities f*cking ROCK...then and forever!

2007-06-17T03:44:00.001-05:00

Paul Westerberg at The Fitzgerald Theater
June 16, 2007

For Family, We Sing a Love Song for the Hoot

2007-06-14T23:03:00.000-05:00

I picked Jen up and we drove the special route to avoid the horrific 35WS traffic, twisting the Honda through Kings Hwy and past the graveyard, parking behind Java Jack's. We got there early, in past weeks, it would have been early enough to have our choice of seats. Not this week. Stacy came running up the stairs.

"It's really crowded already," she said.

It was the final Hoot for the season. Maybe. HOPEFULLY returning in the fall.

Of course it would be crowded.

Jen and I weaved through to the back. I threw my purse and camera bag down and we settled into our spots. Jen popped open her PBR and I debated on whether or not to buy a cookie. People were spilling in as, out of sheer laziness, I decided no.

It was close to 6:30pm. Jim scanned the room.

"Alexa! Jen! Get down here. Up front!" he shouted.

I looked at Jen.

"You go," she said.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I wanna stay back," she answered assuredly.
"Okay."

I weaved back to the front. Stacy and Andrea were huddled down on the floor, in front of the tables and right by the stage. There was no room by Stacy as Tony Nelson's giganto-camera bag was splayed out. But there was room between Tony Nelson and the stone wall. It was unavoidable then that I would meet him, this man whose photos I've seen everywhere, whose giganto-camera sneaks over my shoulder at many shows, as I was about ready to practically straddle him to sit down in my seat.

The Hoot began.

I am thrown back to my first Hoot on that freezing day in February, when I walked down those basement stairs with an old friend from college. We sat up against the stone wall, huddled off to the side. Anna drank whiskey that Stook! and Jim handed out as I sat quietly, looking at all the people I knew. Well, not knew but read articles and posts, saw pictures, heard tunes...for over a year. I shivered in the cold, intimidated and intrigued.

The next week, I mustered up the courage to say hi and converse for a bit. The week after, at Jim's urging but still afraid I was overstepping some strange boundaries, I went to the bar with all of them. The week after that. The week after that. The week after that. There would be more bars, shows we would dance at, shows we would cry at, birthdays we would celebrate together, texts and emails we would send daily, Mofo qualities would be debated, records we would shop for, meals we would eat at 2am, apartments we would sit in, drink in, gossip in, smoke in. This was my Friday night for five months. It was inevitable. We had the same Friday night plans for five months. We loved the same thing.

These people, who I watched from a distance (I swear not creepily) for over a year, almost two years, are my friends. They are now real people to me: flawed, wise, so smart, snarky, creative, motivated, hilarious and kind. They have accepted me, that crazy Bruce Springsteen girl with the plastic jewelry and the camera, the animated photographer who loves to dance and write. They are my friends. They are mentors, people whose work I so greatly respect, who I can talk to and learn from, people to stand next to at shows and be really excited with about music.

And the Hoot began.

I sat wedged between the photographer and the wall, my camera in hand. My legs were contorted, half way beneath the stage. I sat directly under Jim Walsh and periodically knocked into him throughout the night. He loomed over me, casting a shadow of comfort and glee. The Hoot was his project, his labor, and he gave it over to us over and over again. Jim listens, loves and explodes with a fierce dedication. He never ever judges you for being passionate and excited, if it is true, because those qualities overflow within him. He is a friend, a fellow tramp and an inspiration. Thank you just doesn't seem like enough.

Through all the five months, I didn't shoot at the Hoot. It was my time to just sit and stare and listen. Relax. Which is much more difficult for me to do than it should be. Plus, I was and am still a bit intimidated. That's a quality that's difficult to shake. I'm learning. I'm shaking so hard.

I would shoot this Hoot...and be so very glad I did. I can say with full confidence that this was one of the greatest nights a small coffee shop in Southern Minneapolis has ever seen. One of the greatest nights I have ever seen, too.

I cried and laughed and I wasn't alone.

The performers were Jim Walsh as The Mad Ripple, Leslie Ball, Stook!, Terry Walsh (Jim's brother aka Uncle Bird), The Cates and Strange Friends...with some pretty effin' spectacular guest appearances.

Jim sang his familiar tunes. That's what makes this place home. Leslie Ball tells a story about a goose and his welcomed geese friends. She sang and I gained a new respect for the wacky woman who runs Ball's Cabaret. Stook! ripped the place apart. We all sang along to A song is mo' than just a song. Home. Terry bounced and thrilled and inspired with a song about riding bikes the wrong way up 35W. We all laughed. The Cates, Erin Kate and Caitlyn Smith, swept over the room with one guitar and two beautiful voices, clean and aching sounds. Strange Friends, planted in the back of the basement, picked us back up again.

There were more stories and songs. One after the other. Again and again.

Then, I witnessed a moment in my live music history, a song I will never forget.

Caitlyn Smith began to strum the guitar and Erin opened her mouth to sing. What I remember is not exact. The timing is not correct. But the memory is.

Day Break My Heart

If this is war, please declare it.
And if you like, I will turn the other cheek.
For you.
For you.

I'd run away but you'd just follow.
And so I stay and wait for your next move.

(((Erin's little girl, who had been jumping back and forth between her mom and her grandpa, reached out her arms to be taken back to her mom. Erin held her.)))

Day break my heart. Don't spare me.
Day break my heart. Don't spare me.
Day break my heart. Don't spare me now.

Heaven knows, the road ain't easy.
I'm not a saint but I am testing my wings for flight.
For flight.

(((Erin's girl began to wiggle a bit in her lap as her arms wrapped tighter around her daughter.)))

Day break my heart. Don't spare me.
Day break my heart. Don't spare me.
Day break my heart. Don't spare me now.

(((Erin got choked up. Tears welled in her eyes as her voice catches in her throat.)))

Day break my heart. Don't spare me.
Day break my heart. Don't spare me.
Day break my heart. Don't spare me now.
Now.

(((She cried, clutching her daughter. Tears poured from her eyes as she lifted her head up and sang above the audience.)))

There is no guard at my door.
There is no guard at my door.
There is no guard at my door.
There is no guard at my door.

(((I could not stop crying. I saw Stacy and Andrea on the other side of Tony, tears pouring from their eyes as Erin sang above their heads.)))

Say what you want
About me
It doesn't hurt
The way it used to for I have grown anew.

Day break my heart. Don't spare me.
Day break my heart. Don't spare me.
Day break my heart. Don't spare me now.

((( I had trouble taking pictures as I couldn't see through the blur of my tears. I also didn't want to come outside of myself for this moment. I sort of pawed at the wall and rested my splotchy and stained cheek against the cool stone. Erin held her baby, sang and wept.)))

Day break my heart. Don't spare me.
Day break my heart. Don't spare me.
Day break my heart. Don't spare me now.
Now.

(((I am not alone as I see women, men even, Stook! even, tears in their eyes. Wiping their eyes. The room was silent besides Erin and Caitlyn's voice, the guitar and the child's occasional happy yelp. I felt isolated in my little box between the photographer, the wall, the audience, the stage. I felt so blessed at that moment to be in Minneapolis, in that basement, amongst these people. My home is brimming with such talent and it's honesty and integrity shot to my core. There was absolutely nowhere else I should have been right then. Right now.)))

There is no guard at my door.
There is no guard at my door.
There is no guard at my door.
There is no guard at my door.

(((I want to be brave. I want to be courageous. I want this inspiration always. I want love. That's what I thought as Erin broke, relived with such strength and beauty in front of us.)))

The song ended. I remained in a state of disbelief, tears falling from my face and snot dripping from my nose. My heart hurt so badly.

"What's that little pistols name?" Jim said.

I'm not sure Erin heard him. She didn't answer and left the stage shortly thereafter to return a song or two later.

I saw kleenexes in front of Stacy and tried to Jedi them over to me. Andrea and Stacy were holding hands. Tony sat next to me and I didn't want to ask him to hand me the tissues. I didn't really want him to see my face and my eyes. It was just me and I felt both incredibly fierce and torn apart. Isolated in a community and yet still part of those people.

Maybe then, maybe a few songs later, it was Andrea's turn to sing. She got up and held Stook!'s guitar.

"I don't play the guitar and I'm not a songwriter," she said.

Andrea then said she was inspired to write her first song after a Hoot party at Jim's house, when all these musicians played round robin with their words

"Hey, you've written a song. You're a song writer," Uncle Bird said.
"Yeah," Andrea said as she looked down.

She sang a beautiful song about voices, musicians and words. About falling in love with the people in the room. I cried, residual tears from Day Break. I cried because I was so proud of Andrea for getting up there and sharing her voice and her words.

It had become a gigantic night. A gigantic night that would soon explode when Jim's wife, Jean, stood up.

"Hey, we might need to take a break," she said.

And there was hububhubub as Jim and she discussed the line-up change. The next band needed help with their gear. More hububhubub. Then...

"Hey Gary, come up on stage," Jim shouted to the other end of the basement.

AND THEN...

GARY LOURIS TURNED THE CORNER OF THE HOOTENANY!

There he was, Minnesota legend, musical legend, rounding the corner in denim, sunglasses, cowboy boots, white man's afro, full cool motherfucker glory.

Marc Perlman, Dan Murphy and Kraig Jarret Johnson with his very very pretty hair followed behind. We were gonna have a Golden Smog party!!!

I was sitting two feet away from Gary freakin' Louris, the lead singer of The Jayhawks, a band who has painted the landscape of Minnesota, of many states, for many people. For many of my Hoot friends, The Jayhawks are their Bruce Springsteen. Gary Louris is their Boss. And I love him so much for that. Well, amongst other things like a totally badass, totally inspirational career in music.

Plus, last year, I fucking sobbed like a little baby as I played a live version of Better Days over and over and over again in my car, deleting a number from my cell phone. Finally ending a relationship. Saying goodbye.

Driving to Missouri, I love to listen to Hollywood Town Hall because it is just that album that is your home.

GARY LOURIS! GARY LOURIS! GARY LOURIS! GARY LOURIS! GARY LOURIS! GARY LOURIS!

Golden Smog, bitches. I'd be a sorry liar if I said I knew everything about them (as I am HORRIBLE with names) but I knew enough to be completely star-struck and tongue-tied. They fucking jammed!! I looked around with a shit eating grin, eyes still burning as Stook! and Steve sang gleefully to their idol. Andrea looked over at me and just mouthed "OH MY GOD!" "I KNOW!" I mouthed back. I just leaned back against that stone wall and listened to the legend, snapping photo after photo.

Everyone sang their fucking hearts out. And then Golden Smog left. After that, I couldn't sit still. The Hoot continued as High on Stress came up, Gary came back looking for his capo. I ran around. Taking pictures of the audience, of the wall, of the babies. I was going to fucking remember this basement for the rest of my life.

It lasted for four hours. When we left, Jim offered me the Hoot poster I was willing to pay for and I gingerly peeled away the lid to take it home. We all sort of parted our ways to rejoin for a bit at Keiran's. We were all in a daze. All tired. All a little bit broken. And happy. And thrilled. I wanted to sleep and listen to Day Break in the privacy of my own room. And brag to Philly friends that Gary Louris had apologized that he couldn't play my birthday Hoot. And look at my photos to think about where I have come in the past five months. How I have grown. What I've learned to accept and strive for. The perspective I've gained about what excites me, who excites me and what I look for in people. The freezing cold Hoot of February has become this fire for me.

It was about everyone that night. We have become this community of basement dwellers, music lovers, men and women who experience the energy that only could be produced by that dark, windowless room underneath the coffee makers, pastry buyers, dog walkers, city livers of South Minneapolis. The Mad Ripple led us proudly along on an awesome spiral into musical insanity away from the everyday.

I'll miss it so much but am ready to throw myself into this summer. If for some reason the Hoot ended with that show, I'll be okay because, like Pete said, then it's just not meant to go on.

Plus, I'm not the same person who walked down the stairs in February. When I walked up last week, there was an army beside me.

I have pictures to supplement this story which I will be posting within this entry shortly.

I'm not dead.

2007-06-14T03:14:00.000-05:00

But Shaly Sha, my sweet little lady with the angelic voice and those innocent eyes as vast as that pearly moon, will be dead when I get my mits on her.

Sunday night, at rehearsal when I was describing something strange about printing off an email I had sent to myself, I had a massive epiphany.

"Hey everyone. Yeah...it was sort of weird cause, when I printed off the email from myself, there were lyrics at the bottom. I don't know why."

But then I realized that I do know why.

I have had one of THE MOST fantastic practical jokes ever played on me.

Let me start by saying this...if any of you have received an email from me in the past...oh...I don't...THREE WEEKS...it included a signature that was not my own, never conceived by me, nor my idea.

Yes. I enjoy Kelly Clarkson as a guilty pleasure. I think she's a lot of fun. I'd actually go see her in concert. But I CERTAINLY don't love her enough to include her song lyrics as a yahoo email signature. I don't even KNOW how to create yahoo signatures.

But Shaly Sha does. And when I asked her to check my email three weeks ago while I was at work, that sweet little lady got me back. BIG TIME. for every perverted email or myspace blog I've ever posted when she asked me to check her email or her myspace. I guess sending old professors/mentors emails that say "Man Gary I just realized I really love fucking goats" from your friends accounts really ISN'T a good idea. Or posting blogs about how I, Alisha Speilmann" am such a bitch isn't such a good idea either.

I made her promise me to not send any emails out from my account. I thought she probably would cause that's what we always do. But when she called me back and told me she really hadn't, and I checked my sent folder and realized she really hadn't I did think it was a bit odd.

Touche Shaly Sha, brilliant move my dear friend, I will end you.

Because Alisha Rose Spielmann put this as a signature to my emails.

"Breakaway"
by Kelly Clarkson

I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly
I'll do what it takes til' I touch the sky
And I'll make a wish
Take a chance
Make a change
And breakaway
Out of the darkness and into the sun
But I won't forget all the ones that I love
I'll take a risk
Take a chance
Make a change
And breakaway

How do I know it was she?, one might say. Well...let me just reveal that Miss Clarkson and her tunes are quite an inside joke between Shaly Sha and myself which date back to an afternoon in New York City when I sat and listened to Miss Shaly Sha belt her heart out.

What lies behind those hazel eyes?, Kelly might ask. Well I have discovered what lies behind Shaly's hazel eyes...PURE EVIL!

I can't be mad at the fact that I have sent dozens of emails to a vast spectrum of people (thank god no potential employers) because it really is a perfect practical joke. I would never have known had I not sent the email to myself so I could print it.

It's so perfect that I think I'll take a risk, A CHANCE EVEN, and break away Shaly Sha's head from her body.

This is war, my dear friend. WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!

Gird your loins, Shaly Sha. Cause Kelly is out to KILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!

Fishlady is my friend.

2007-05-25T01:38:00.000-05:00

Last night, at 9:30pm, I stood in Chipmonkey's doorway. I had just left work, walked away from a manager who was acting like a complete pile.

"I really need your partnership. I really need your partnership. I really need your partnership," he chanted. Chipper and mindless. He was berating a fellow employee. I stood for a moment, maybe waiting for him to rip into me. At that second, I realized I had the power not to be humiliated. So I turned around and walked out the door.

I drove and listened to Arcade Fire. A few of the songs skipped.

"Let's go on a bike ride," she said.

Chipmonkey knows that, like every wannabe wiener dog, a lady needs to be let out to play. And run around in circles until her head explodes.

"Let's go to Town Talk. I'll buy," she said.

"Okay," I said.

So we rode through Seward and my black cardigan flapped in the breeze.

We drank our adult shake and ate our garlic fries. And we talked and talked and talked and talked and talked.

We rode back and sat in her apartment discussing our summer theatre project. And, you know, life. I sat there taking notes to start my scene. I stopped and carved the words "wake from my dream" into my right wrist with my pen. It's faded but still on my wrist tonight.

I drove home in a daze. Overwhelmed by my summer theatre project and life.

I ran into my room, took off everything except my underwear and ran into my living room. By the light of the kitchen, I put side B of Wild Innocent & the E Street Shuffle onto the turn table.

I turned off the kitchen light and laid face down on one of my (many) Turkish rugs. This one was in my mom's study forever. It's not as rough and scratchy as all the one's we had upstairs.

In my underwear, I laid there in the darkness, listening to Incident on 57th Street. The sliding door that leads to nothing from our second floor apartment was open. I heard the cars pass on Central and the random holler that is prevelant on my street. My head was turned to the right and my skin melted with the humidity. I breathed in the salt as the record skipped towards the end of the song. In this version on this night, Spanish Johnny would get away unharmed. Maybe he's driving down Central right now.

It wasn't a Rosalita night so I put the needle down ahead and it perfectly landed on New York City Serenade. I laid back down and the thought crossed my mind "Alexa, you don't live alone. You have roommates and if they walked out into the living room right now, they would see you lying on a rug, almost naked. And you're listening to Bruce, so they probably think you're getting freaky with your bad self. But your not. Your lying her dead still." In the end, It didn't matter. It was one o'clock in the morning and I was so tired that my brain felt like it was bleeding out my beautiful eardrums.

So I listened to my song.

I thought about New York. When I heard that song played live at Shea Stadium in 2003. My mom and I sat in the loge section and Roy tapped into those opening piano chords. And the song swelled over the stadium. I saw the Manhattan skyline lit behind the stadium wall, behind Bruce. New York City Serenade, indeed. I thought about Minneapolis. Fishlady lives here, too. The characters in his story are my neighbors and that makes me less alone. My favorite line played out the crackling spearks, "So walk tall or baby don't walk at all." I thought about the way my shoulder smelled. I thought about all the rumors of an E Street band tour beginning in the fall. What could I do, what can I sacrifice, what could I sell, where could I work to afford those shows? I'll make it happen. I always do. "Shake away the city lights. Shake away those street lights." Those street lights spilled into my living room and I danced while lying still.

The record ended.

I wrote my script. I stared at Hopper paintings. I fell asleep late into the night. I woke up and it was pouring rain. My head was pounding and I was lying sideways in my bed, my ragged kitty blanket wrapped tightly around me. I hadn't slept well. I finally got up and trudged to work, my curls messily pressed against my head in my blue faux vintage headband. I ended up taking a half personal day to come home and sleep because if I didn't, I would either have another seizure or start crying. I had two more rehearsals today that I needed energy for and I'm quitting my job soon anyway.

It's just one of those weeks. Besides, I needed to sleep. I had been up all night serenading.

Dear Sweet God

2007-05-21T16:11:00.000-05:00

YESTERDAY'S THOUGHTS

I'm sitting here in my apartment, all the lights are off and the screen door is open. I'm on my favorite mini couch, the one my body fits perfectly into and my legs dangle over the edge. Carmine, the 4 foot tall porcelain greyhound, has been moved to the other side of the living room. I no longer see his regal face peeking over the edge of the couch's arm. That makes me a little sad. I have spent the afternoon at Andrea & Mark's, listening to Led and watching Eddie Izzard. I'm still definitely a little fucked up. But I'm home now because I have a very limited time to get work done for the fringe show. I HAVE TO GET WORK DONE! It's my responsibility to create a very detailed frame for the sketch about forced exercise and body image.

So I youtube aerobic to try to set some movement for the piece and...

After weeding through all the blessed gospel dance aerobics, I find this:

What the fuck?!? Did the Milio's delivery guy slip acid into my turkey and guacomole sub?

And then...

AND THEN...

I disover THIS awe inspiring gem:

I'd have to stick squirrels down my underwear to make my cheeks move like that.

Get it right, get it tight, indeed.

Back in Ye Olde Saddle

2007-05-21T02:46:00.000-05:00

Well...

I HAVE A NEW COMPUTER!

It's beautiful. Fast. With so much hard drive space. And speed. And a pipe bomb instilled within it in case anyone tries to steal it from me (again.)

Plus a free, originally $80, fairly good Canon printer came with it...one that doubles as a PHOTO PRINTER!

Most importantly, I can now "read" literotica in the privacy of my own room.

Honest most importantly, I can get back to my photos. I can start over.

My first set of new photos!!!

From Little Lambies going away get together last Sunday...

THE USUAL SUSPECTS

Genna/Jeeehna the Baker

Laura/Chipmunk/MonkeyChip the Choreographer

Anna/Little Lambie the Actress

And just cause I stared at this fruit for way too long, thinking pervy Jonesie thoughts. We tried to figure out what it was. Finally, I just settled on my original idea: green fuzzy goat nads.

Oh...and I went to a music expo with Andrea & Jen today. Jonesie spent every last dime of her birthday money on records and one dollar of Jen's (to be paid back, naturally...IN A LOVE BUCK...kiddin' Jen!) But now I can add to my collection of almost every single Bruce LP, the Annie soundtrack & one Southside Johnny album WITH...

ELO's Face the Music
ELO's Ole ELO
U2's The Joshua Tree
Elvis Presley's The Complete Sun Sessions
Elvis Presley's As Recorded at Madison Square Garden
Elvis Presley's The Elvis Medley
Hank Williams Sr. & Jr.'s Father & Son
Johnny Cash's Orange Blossom Special
Hymns by Johnny Cash
Steel Band Music of the Carribbean
Bob Marley & The Wailer's Uprising
The Music of Africa
Creedence Clearwater Revival's Chronicle
The Best of the Byrds Volume II

AND...

Pat Benatar's Live from Earth "featuring the NEW HIT SINGLE Love is a Battlefield"

I don't care if anyone of these are shit albums, they were reeeeeally cheap.

Next purchases shall be Buddy Holly, Dylan, more Bruce to someday soon round out that collection, and some more randoms.

And now Jonesie can fall asleep to the sweet sweet sounds of Band 15. Algeria AND Can't Help Falling in Love.

Man...the new found record obsession is RULING!

Just like the fact that I have tomorrow off, am turning off my phone so I can sleep way in, have actual breakfast cereal for the morning (as opposed to eating the heel of the frozen, month old bread out of desperation) & will be bringing my lovely record player home.

Goals for tomorrow:
Update resume so I can finally leave The Department Store
Get renter's insurance
Sell crack on the corner to pay for gas
Stare peacefully off into space while walking in the fresh air
Dance rehearsal at Zenon

Oh yeah...I was reminded today by a friend that at one point during my birthday celebration on Friday, I was found wandering alone down the block in front of Whitey's Saloon all by myself. This was probably 1:30 in the morning when everyone was either gone or at The Front. I apparantely was in my own little world, dancing around on the sidewalk and looking happy as can be.

Best Birthday Ever

2007-05-20T03:00:00.001-05:00

It wasn't a rocking Marah concert like last year but...

My neck is killing me.
I have bruises on the back of my knees.
My whole body smells like chlorine.

It was a fucking PARTY!

I didn't sob.
I choked up over hoot love, lilacs, lullabyes and my radical/tubular/ridiculous/awesomeawesomeawesomeawesome friends.

I do believe I screamed "I just feel so fucking blessed" about twenty six times last night. At one point, I very drunkenly stood from my seat on the ground in the middle of a circle of my people chatting outside The Front and proclaimed, "I am LUCKY!"

As I was wandering from the thai dinner, as I was wandering from the hoot, as I was wandering from Whitey's, as I was stumbling from The Front, as I was sitting on the curb at 2:30am with the remaing party folks, as I was rambling and dancing and drinking...

Seriously, I must have done something really right to have these people in my life. Cause you know, I'm blessed and lucky.

I am surrounded by people who get it. And get me. And that makes me really happy.

And there were messages. So many messages from all my other friends that couldn't celebrate my birthday with me. And that means so much, too.

I was a responsible drinker who rode that fine line successfully. I was on the perfect edge of insanity and woke up, extremely sore from Jonesie's mad dancing SKILLZ (mad = erratic), with just a mild hangover and a bit of anxiety over the arrival of The Jones Family. Anxiety that was cooled as soon as I realized that my mom and sister and I were laughing hysterically in the hotel pool tonight. My sister and I were floating in my mom's arms, pretending to get baptized. As friends dangled their feet in the water, occasionally jumping in...the cold, the hot, the steam. My friend Genna, who had a shitty cold, baked me a cake from scratch that was decorated like a record. Which compliments the record player and records SO WELL! And I have more wiener dog paraphernalia...which takes the number of wiener items I own up to approximately 65! My father watched bad tv on the hotel bed until we all came up, continuing the small party by chatting about politics and butchering lambs. A few of my people met The Jones Family tonight. And now they REALLY understand why I am the way I am.

My Family

Missouri...Minnesota...everywhere.

Thank you!

So walk tall or baby don't walk at all

2007-05-13T03:59:00.000-05:00

On Thursday, April 26th, I stood in The Varsity with my camera. It was Stook! and Chris Koza opening for JoAnna James. I took over five hundred pictures that night.

I danced around, twisted around, bent on my knees to try to get the shot I wanted. Capture Stook!'s infectious joy, Koza's understated sense of cool that melts away at moments. Katie, an old work friend, sat behind me as I ran around. She clutched onto her seat. Steve and Jim stood beside me at different points in the show. It was a wonderful night of music all around and it ended with JoAnna soulful pipes reeling with angst and pain and beauty and joy. At one point, Jim was cheering for JoAnna and I look up at him and say "this night is magic." He grabs my shoulders and kisses my head. I take more pictures. Martin walks by, a musician, head of her record label Eclectone Records, and he is choked up. Tears are welling up in his eye.

"I'm so proud of our girl," he says to Jim, "now I have to sing."

The show ended and I said goodbye. In a daze, I stood at the back of the Varsity for a moment. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want it to end. One of my favorite parts about traveling for Bruce Springsteen shows and staying in hotels near the arena is that the 3.5 hour party that happened on stage most certainly continues in the lobby, in the bar, in the rooms of the hotel. One night, in Chicago for Devils & Dust, someone was banging away on the piano and everyone, 20, 30, 40, 50 some odd people, were singing along to Thunder Road.

I wanted the party to somehow continue. But then I was overwhelmed with this sensation of needing to run outside, be outside away from everyone. I walked through the doors, mofoed Stook! and walked on to the parking lot.

Tears welled up in my eyes. I got closer to Brucie the Honda. And they started to pour. I opened my car doors and sat inside and I wept. Pulling away in a cloud with tears streaming down my face, listening to JoAnna's "Back of my Mind" EP, driving around the block that surrounds The Varsity because I couldn't leave it just yet. So happy, sort of distraught, cathartic. At that moment, I was entirely sure I had made the right decision to stay in Minneapolis and not move to New York. For now. For awhile. For I don't know how long any more. This is right. I called Laura and talked to her about art. This is my home, a place that inspires me, challenges me and brings out my current best. I knew that wholly as Back of my Mind
blared from my player.

This past Tuesday, my computer was stolen. Several people told me they understood my pain cause, you know, if there were a fire in your house, you would grab your photo albums first. My house, my art, burnt on the inside. The frame is what is left.

On Thursday, I bent behind the counter at work and started to cry for the zillionth time this week. I was overwhelmed again for the zillionth time this week. My finances were really fucked up. The Department Store hadn't paid me for Indiana vacation time I had requested, my rent check was going to bounce and I didn't know how to take care of that. But I did. I fixed it. And it knocked me down again in trying to fix it. But I had just talked to my mom and she had given me some extraordinary news. Without my asking, for my birthday, my mom and dad were going to buy me a new Mac laptop. I am not too proud right now to accept this gift that I can currently in no way pay for myself. They are just public school teachers. But they have given me a gift that I will use everyday, not just because internet is my crack but because that is the home to my pictures.

And I know sometimes I don't know how to ask for help when I need it, from my family and friends. I've lived so much of my life working towards a sense of ecstatic self, a sense of independence. I know how to take care of myself, to live by myself, to completely immerse myself in this life. My life. To use an overused cliche, I pride myself on being able to stand on my own two feet. But sometimes I can't stand up. I can't walk. I fall. And so many people are there to help me, to hold my hand, to talk to me, to let me ramble about Bruce Springsteen or tell my ridiculous stories, to accept me.

The people in my life have supported me endlessly this week. After my computer jacking and last post, I woke up to several texts, myspace comments and messages, voice mails. They've continued this entire week. I was offered a hand hold, an ear, a shoulder, constant condolences, old computers, a new computer, hard drive space to download my photos, Adobe, a bouquet of lilacs, a loan, pictures from Spain that my family had taken, burnt CDs of pictures I had taken that I had given to others. Even a freaking employee at the Apple Store that I chat with on an almost daily basis gave me a dorky but incredibly endearing hug when I told him why I was trying to figure out how to download my songs from my ipod back to a new computer. Not one person judged me for reacting so strongly. Everyone understood. I was seriously overwhelmed by how awesome so many people acted towards me. I know the best people in the world!

On Friday, I danced at Zenon, then drank with some friends at the 331 Club as JoAnna James played again. I talked to her for the first time. She hugged me. She loved my photos of her show, she had said in her myspace message, and wanted to buy me a drink. She said that they made her choke up because they reminded her of how great that night was at The Varsity on that Thursday night, how special it was to her. She had forwarded them onto her family and friends. Her mom told me how happy they made her, how often she has looked at them. And I'm just glad to be able to give something back to an artist, artists, who have given me so much. As friends, part of my Minneapolis family, people I dance with, cry to and laugh around.

Stook!'s record is called A Soundtrack to my Minneapolis.

This afternoon, I pulled up to work and there were enormous black clouds billowing around the lot of the employee entrance...my first thought was...HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLY SHIT...THE DEPARTMENT STORE IS BURNING TO THE GROUND...MY WISH HAS COME TRUE!!!!!

Alas, it is in tact, but it was like a holiday with all the drama circulating. A car had actually exploded, blowing out the windows and hood of not only the fire ball itself but a few cars around it. Luckily, no one was hurt. As much as I (the anti-confrontational girl from a funny farm in Missouri) want to punch about a dozen people that work there, I don't really want them to burn to the cement ground.

Anyway, on Monday, my Anna/Little Lamb leaves for the summer. So it was her goodbye party tonight. I peeled away from The Department Store in a cloud of smoke and arrived at the house. I saw Anna in one window and Genna in another window. They live in the same building down in Seward. I spend more time in that house than I do in my own.

I stood outside and yelled Litttttttttttle LAAAAAAAAAAAAMBIE! Genna tells me she sees me. Then, Anna peeks her head and tells me to wait. I stood there, first in the grass then in Genna's living room, enjoying a smoke (of what...Mom...if you are reading this...by enjoying a smoke...you know I don't mean cigs...cause I'll never ever smoke one of those again...by enjoying a smoke, I mean reading passages from Wuthering Heights.) Genna told me they were finishing the surprise. Genna peeks her head out and whispers something across to the other apartment. They're ready.

I walk to Laura's door. Anna has been staying there too as she had no place to stay for a month before her summer in southern Minnesota doing Shakespeare (Willy Willy Boom Billy...an utterly pointless statement to write but I keep saying over and over again in my head because it's FUN!) I heard Thunder Road playing and I, of course, loved that and got really excited. The door opened, I saw people, mine and Anna's friends, sitting or standing all around.

Anna points down, "Happy Birthday, Jonesie!"

I see the Born to Run record spinning on the turn-table.

"Awwww...I love Born to Run...I could definitely use another copy of this album...because the only one I have is framed on my wall right now. Wait, I think I actually have another under my desk. But that's still a cute gift!" I thought.

"Yeah. I love Born to Run!" I said.

"It's all yours, Jonesie!" Anna said.

My stomach dropped.

"The record player?" I muttered.

"YEAH!" she said.

"HOOOOOOOLY SHIT! IT'S MINE!??!?! THIS IS AWESOME!!!! MY HEART IS BEATING IN MY THROAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ALGLHJSJGLH:A:kgh:jheouwlkj:lak:ly:tuoeowpyaajAKDJHLFSKAJDFHLKJSA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed.

Everyone was smiling and I almost started to cry. Seriously. Y'know...for the zillionth time this week.

I haven't had a record player since I was a little girl. My sister and I used to spend the weekends reenacting the Annie musical, lip syncing and dancing with full costume and props. I was always little orphan Annie, naturally. But I'm convinced it's because really my sister just loved to play the drunk Miss Hannigan. Naturally. And this was all to the Annie record my mom had. And, by the way, god bless my parents for sitting through a bazillion cheap karaoke productions of Annie.

I don't know why I never bought a turn table. It just hadn't happened. UNTIL NOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOO!

The only records I own are almost all of Bruce Springsteen's albums (including one Dancing in the Dark single where he's completely gaying it up on the cover in this amazing dance pose,) one Southside Johnny album & that Annie album from my childhood. I completely regret giving all my parents old records to this deejay I had dated because I thought I would never actually use them. DJ, can I have them back, please?

Sidenote: not a picture of the deejay...but I like that he's looking at me in this shot...cause the deejay definitely looked at me with this sorta creepy, sorta intense stare. Reason number zillion the thing with the deejay ended.

A few of my friends pooled their hard earned cafe cash, planned and searched and investigated for a long time, and bought me this totally kick ass turn table. This is by far one of the greatest presents I have ever received!!!!!!!!!

So this hell week has such a brilliant ending. Because shit goes down and, as trite as it sounds, I have constantly been overcome in the past five days by the support I have received. Because of everything. When my mom called me to tell me about the birthday gift they would be giving me, she also told me my grandpa, who is 87 years old and not in the best of health, wants to send me a little check to help me out after my loss. And that set me off again. Mom then told me she loved me, she knew this work, what I spend time seeing and doing, is important to me. And thus important to her. I have seen over and over again, in every possible way, how amazing the people in my life are. So thank you everyone!

And the fact that another of my pictures made The Photo of the Week at www.howwastheshow.com has made me continuously happy throughout this flipped out week. This discovery was last Monday. It is a picture of JoAnna James. From that show I left in those good tears.

PHOTO OF THE WEEK FOR 5/6/2007!!!

It was from the last set I was able to download and upload before everything was stolen. It is a set I am extraordinarily proud of. It's the set that has accompanied this ramble. On a different note, it's strange but I'm really afraid of falling out of love with photography, maybe getting burnt out and not caring about it like I do right now. I go to shows. I see the picture in front of me. Will that change? Will I lose interest in this like I did with theatre? God I hope not. It's hard for me because I feel like I have to take a first picture all over again. And once I do that, then it really will be real that they are pretty much all gone. But I'm going to because seeing those shots this week and not taking the photo was worse. Because, like I said, I love being able to give back to the people that hold me up.

Wow, cheesy. But true. CHEESY BUT TRUE! Just like Jonesie...MWAHAHA!

Anyway...a special THANK YOU to Anna, Laura, Genna, George, Kevin & Ben...the friends behind the turn table!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I need this. The music is everywhere for me. And now it will have the beautiful, hollow, crackling sound accompanying it.

I'm so good right now. Tired because I stayed up until seven in the morning to write and look at all the photos I have on flickr. I'm so ready to spend my grandpa's gift on some coffee and new records! I'm so ready to take my first new photo!

Seriously, WHO WANTS TO GO RECORD SHOPPING??? YAAAAAAAAAAAY!

I have been robbed.

2007-05-09T03:11:00.000-05:00

Tonight I had parked my car in Cedar Riverside to go hang out with friends at the Nomad. An hour and a half later, I walked back to the lot. It was 12:30am.

Brucie the Honda was broken into. And they stole my laptop.

I have not ever backed up my computer (but, ironically, was going to when I got the external hard drive for my birthday in a week and a half.)

I have lost every picture I have ever taken with either of my digital cameras(that are not online...about 1600 out of 15000 are online) or everything I have ever written in highschool, college & since (that, again, are not online...papers, essays, rambles...so much is gone.) Luckily, most of the written documents actually have been printed off.

All my Spain pictures from last summer are gone. Pictures of my family and friends and concerts and holidays from the past few years are gone.

Anyway, this is bad and I feel really sick about this.

Tonight, I blamed myself for this robbery, for not burning the pictures onto CDs like I said I would, and probably will continue blaming myself for awhile even though I know this is not my fault. I know all the things I shouldn't have done...and being lectured by the cop didn't help that...I'm not naive or stupid and I won't beat myself up about it. Anything anyone could say to me to try to teach me some lesson is only a fraction of the beating I have mentally given myself.

But I would like to thank the people that were with me when I walked to my car tonight and helped me calm down. Drove me to their apartments when I was supposed to drop them off. Offered to hold my snot filled hand. And they quoted song lyrics to me that made me feel better (something about burning all your belongings twice becausue you are restarting your life, once because you want to and once because you have to.) They helped me to realize that I can rebuild this...this can be a new beginning for me.

Anway, back up everything on your computer that is important to you. And be really careful about what you leave in your car.

And yes I did file a police report with the serial number of the computer. And I called my credit card and bank account because statements were in that bag.

My faith in people is pretty low right now. But it was just stuff, I know that, and I am okay. My friends are okay. My car is okay (though it is not even worth as much as my computer.) I have my camera still (I had to remind myself over and over again that it wasn't in that bag with my computer) and like my mom said when I called her sobbing at 2am, they did not take my own memories and my future.

Anyway...I will not be online as much because I don't have a computer any more (which will be remedied in due time.) I'm typing on my roommate Jim's computer right now. Usually his neverending boy stories drive me insane but, tonight, his ramblings are comforting. Life really does go on. I was in a really good mood this past week because I feel like I am at a huge transition. That is not going away.

Major Springsteen and wiener dog happy thoughts need to be sent my way.

Though my first impulse was to drive all the way back to Missouri tonight, I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. This all may sound extreme but that's me. Especially right now. And no one took my all crazy like, dramatic talk away from me.

See you all when I see you,
Alexa

My mind is blown.

2007-05-05T00:28:00.000-05:00

I'm in Indiana right now with some ladies from ye olde collegiate days. Madzie and I left Minneapolis to visit the hottest Russian import since bottom shelf vodka (Ekaterina Terebova is her name...BEAT THAT BITCHES demands one Mary Jones.) Madzie drove the entire way through Chicago rush hour while I chose mix CDs, ate jelly beans and fiber 1 granola bars (shitty idea) and napped, sporatically reading US Weekly out loud.

We arrived safely to West Lafayette, ate some kickass homemade tomato soup, watched the blessed Burlesque video from last October and reinacted this scene from last year...

I call her Belarussy (I have a really good friend from Minsk who is fluent in four languages...who can say that?!!?)

While reinacting the above picture with her future husband, we discovered the most hilarious and blasphemous activity to partake in. Listen to the song that will be YOUR song, that first song at your wedding reception that you and your husband will dance to, while Busty Cops 2 is muted on the big flat screen behind you (we didn't PLAN to watch this by the way, we were flipping cable stations hoping to come upon something holy and pure.) This will result in gut busting laughter from all parties involved. I mean...Van Morrison already kicks major ass...JUST IMAGINE "Exactly Like You" wailing along as the sentimental soundtrack to massive, rock hard boobies and the men/women/talking llamas who love them (in the grass, in their hand, in the barn, in a spaceship, in their mouth.)

To recap...

Your wedding song + Busty Cops 2 = AMAZING!

INDIANA IS FOR LOVERS!!!!!!

Speaking of...I love these ladies...

(again from last year...there will be plenty of 2007 photo ops tomorrow when we bask in the beauty and energy of West Lafayette.)

I may mock Indiana endlessy, but, in reality, I will never cease to be amazed by its brilliance.

I've figured out the answer to The Bottle Rockets burning question: Is it hell or Indianapolis?

I'll see you in hell, baby.