It's all about the SHOES!!!

Allow me to take a moment to say that playing the Dean Lesher was FANTASTIC. Thanks to all of you who came to share in the magic Lindasusan and I spun that night, and to all my new friends a huge HELLO!!! Acoustic Love strikes again!

But as we all know- the only reason to perform is because of the shoes. Stage performances are strictly an excuse to buy fabulous shoes. Happiness is not happiness without fabulous shoes. On some days the only reason to go on is because of fabulous shoes. I'm pretty sure that whole "giant turned up cuffs on jeans" look came about so that we could make sure everyone could SEE the fabulous shoes.

Some people label me as having "Carrie Bradshaw" moments, but i'm saying they based that curly-haired shoe-lover on me. How dare they spy on me and then use my image without asking!! Of course, I'm nowhere near as neurotic. (or so i hope)

Anyway, back to the shoes.

My birthday shoes...ahh. I've already pulled them out of the box on several occasions just to look at them because they make me happy. I can't really explain why that is... there's just something comforting about knowing your feet look good. Kinda like you're having a bad day and you look down and.... yay! Pretty Shoes!!! I could just blame it on being a girl, but that's really not the case. Not all girls are into that sort of thing.

I am not one of those girls. Pedicures and pretty shoes are very important in my world. Mock if you must- it keeps me sane.

And speaking of sanity....

My Birthday Shoes and I are going on vacation for the month of September. During which we will be depressurizing, drinking lots of wine and, most importantly, finishing the songs for the new album. Those of you who made it to the Lesher show have heard some of the new tunes, and more of you will hear them once Birthday Shoes and I return and the Eclectics once again take the stage.

On a super-side note... thanks to the insane-o guestbook spammers, I'm being forced to remove the guestbook from my site. (Jerks!!) So to contact me or leave messages you can click on the "comment" button at the bottom of each journal entry- OR- you can email me directly about blog-related comments and criticisms at:

blog [at] katdowns [dot] com

Anything you want to hear about? Let me know.

Under Glass

A song came up on random play today and I suddenly became aware of where I was. I mean, I was in my apartment, but for the duration of that song I was in a rental car driving through the desert in Arizona. The sun was setting. It was hot. I could smell the leather of the seats- I could see the semis we passed and the cacti on the side of the highway...

I suddenly realized that this is undoubtedly my favorite thing about music. All of these precious memories are locked inside me under glass and all I have to do to open them is just put on my headphones, close my eyes and listen....

*******Lightning Crashes by Live- I'm in my freshman year dorm room, a boy is singing to me******Little Earthquakes by Tori Amos- I'm in Colorado up to my elbows in flour on a Friday afternoon******Good Enough by Sarah McLachlan- I'm packing up in the middle of the night, crying*******Jerry was a Race Car Driver by Primus- I'm at my Aunt and Uncles house. I'm watching MTV between reports of the arrest of Jeffery Dahmer*******Groovy Kind of Love by Phil Collins- I'm driving in the car with my high school boyfriend. It's snowing.*******

There are whole albums that will bring me back to parts of my life.

There are albums I have had in permanent rotation for so far back they remind me of my entire life, not just certain parts. I consider them a part of me, as much as my skin and bones.

And the people...all I have to do is turn on this music and my friends are with me. I pop in an album and I'm in a friends apartment 9 years ago. For three months the three of us barely left. We stole a cement ashtray and got it up the stairs. We bought a bunny instead of checking ourselves into the psych ward. We tried to pour an entire bottle of rum into a watermelon. We read to each other at night......I pop in another one and I'm living with N. my first time out on my own. We watch movies, we watch our cats hate each other, we go to parties, we go grocery shopping in the middle of the night and dance to the muizac. We become sisters..... Another one -and I'm road tripping with M., another - a road trip with P. down to New Orleans, another- I'm with A. and it's raining....

From the artists viewpoint, when I hear a song I've recorded I remember where I was when i did it. What the studio looked and smelled like. Who was there with me. How I was feeling that day. But I also have the memories of when I wrote the song, what it was about, and why it was important enough for me to write down.

So my whole life is made up of these little bits of sound. As is everyones. And what one song makes me feel, you won't feel. And what you feel I won't feel. And why I wrote the song isn't important compared to why you love it and where it takes you.

And they said time travel wasn't possible. Sillies.

Fog Horns and U-F'n-TAH

They said it was summer. However, I haven't worn shorts once, and my days are sandwiched in fog. I live in the Richmond district of San Francisco- summertime for us means fog until about 11, then clear, then fog rolling in around 3:30 again.

Fog/Sun/Fog.

There is no "hot" here. Locals here may dispute that, but that's because to them 75 is unbearably hot. I must argue that point, what with my mid-west upbringing and our 102 degree summers with 80% humidity (don't think i need to mention the mosquitoes).

While the fog itself can be depressing on a daily basis, there are two upsides. A) I work in a different neighborhood that gets sun, and B)

Fog Horns.

I LOVE fog horns. There is nothing better in the world than falling asleep to the sound of fog horns in the distance. There is nothing better than walking down the street and hearing fog horns in the distance. There is nothing better than being drenched in a thick fog with fog horns echoing behind you. There is just something so....I don't know....Casablanca about it. Makes me wish I was wearing a trench coat and a hat at a jaunty angle. It sounds like singing. Deep, low, resonant singing calling out to sailors in the mist. Very romantic, very "in a book", very "early black and white movie".....

Gets your imagination stirring, doesn't it? That's what I love about it. With a foghorn bellowing in the distance I always feel like something mysterious is about to happen.

But that doesn't mean that one doesn't need a vacation from it. I mean, it's supposed to be summer for God's sake. And to be completely honest- I just really needed to get the hell out for awhile. Some people go to the islands, or up north. Me? I go to Utah.

SB and crew picked me up at the airport late Thursday evening. Salt Lake City. One word- HOT. Hot like you want to die hot. And it's almost midnight. SWEET!

Up in the mountains though, good 'ol Park City, they are only snow free for about two months out of the year. So it's in the 70's or 80's, but not too hot. Just right. Just right for cocktails (all day) and sitting around on the deck, making fun of the neighbors. I love life in the mountains. The view, the air, the way the altitude makes the wine hit you just that much faster. Everyone has dogs. The grocery store looks rustic though it's brand new. There are moose in the back yard. Literally. And humming birds everywhere.

And it's quiet. And you can actually think. And your heart slows down just a little.

Ahhhhhhh.....

Until we meet the neighbors. I mean, we knew they were there. (I did mention mocking them earlier, did I not?) But we hadn't actually MET them, even though they'd been living there all summer, and SB's been there for about 4 years. We met them when they were sitting shirtless in a very white-trash sort of way on their front porch in front of a glass topped table that was, well, missing the glass. Cups and bottles were sort of balanced on the frame itself all at ackward angles. After initial meet and greets, they asked if we'd like to come over for to play some tunes on the guitar. Needless to say, I liked them immediately.

Nothing short of an insane impromptu-celebration followed. And I do love it when that happens. When you think you'll just be having a quiet dinner at home with friends then- BLAM!! A party- graffitti and frozen pizza with one old friend, two I only met two days earlier, and two I just met now. And I

Had
A
BLAST.

Which is exactly what I needed. It was hard to leave on Sunday.

So-
To SB: Thanks again for opening your home to me. I love you madly. Thanks for the food the wine and your ear. And many many many congrats- you are in my prayers daily!
To M: You are awesomely sweet. I do hope our paths cross again. Good luck with your last year of school- and don't forget: The Devil's got your nose.
To R: Or should i say "Carlos" - thanks for the blue drinks and for being amazingly patient with a bunch of giddy girls. I wish you luck with your new home- p.s. you look hot in drag.
To J: Thanks for the rock out. We will take the indie scene by storm. They won't know what hit them.
To T: If you were an album from a fairly popular band, you would be track 12.

Thank you all for an amazing weekend- you have helped this girl get her head back on straight.