You've Got Mail

If y'all haven't been patrons at the Smartini Bar of late, maybe you've at least clicked on the sidebar links to my open letter to John Mayer. And maybe you subsequently clicked on the link that indicating that I had e-mailed said post to John Mayer. And if you haven't done steps one and two, please do so now. There you will find the kind comments from one Doogie Jacks/a.k.a. DJ imparting a message to me from JM. Whether or not John Mayer actually read my blog post...I don't know. But I like to think he did. I like to think he read it and it made him chuckle and he turned to somebody who answers his fanmail and the like and said, "DJ, put a comment up there. I like her style." Or something like that.

And by the way, John, if you're still reading, I'm not even sure I can come up with a haiku for the new 'do...but I'll work on it.

"Where the Light Is" - John Mayer Live!

In stores July 1 - just in time for my birthday. It can go on the list with Coldplay's Viva La Vida out June 17. Plus, Coldplay is headed here 11/11. I know where I'll be!!!

5-7-5: John Mayer Wants a Haiku About His Hair

My dear friend Jenny Ray sent me this People.com article about how John Mayer wants a haiku about his hair. Fresh from a new (no doubt) ultra-expensive cut, Mayer thinks his finger-touchable coif is poetically inspiring. To that, I say, I didn't get an MFA for nothing. I hope John finds one of these fetching enough to rep his new 'do.

Volume is amped up
In rock star guitar riff waves
Lookin' good, Johnny

As Jonathan says
It's all about great har, man
Put some Dirt in it

In a fine feather
Just like Farah Fawcett
In a red swimsuit

You Don't Even Have to Give Me a Penny

* Another 4:45 wake up call tomorrow

* Kudzu, and how he seems to know right now that I need him, so he's hanging out with me on the couch

* That John Mayer's latest blog entry further convinces me that we would be really good friends

* Feeling really good about going paperless on my Chase credit card statements because they gave $5 to the World Wildlife Fund because I made the switch

* What's going to happen with Miranda and that devilish rake Jack in the book I'm reading

* My six-month review at work which was unbelievably good...maybe I can do my job

* Friends...far away and across the table tonight. It's good to have 'em.

* The Olympics protesting...I can't quite decide what I think is the best course of action. Read the article unearthed by HAT for an interesting perspective

* Whether to wear pantyhose or go bare-legged to the meeting with the law firm tomorrow. My legs look dreadful.

* Haircut plans. It is time. I am scheming.

Mayer's Manners

Wow. John Mayer's latest blog entry. I kind of...does this...sort of make John Mayer a little bit of a stand up guy? I'm just asking...and p.s., I totally sent a tip to Perez Hilton.

DON'T EX WITH TEXAS

Dear Dallas and Surrounding Areas,

This isn't a sports blog, and it isn't a publicity stunt. (but have at me if it feels right.)

This is about doing what I think is right as a person, in this case speaking my mind.

I have never known anyone to have more pride in their home state and their upbringing in it than Jessica Simpson has in Texas. I don't really follow sports, but I have played some of my biggest and best concerts in your state, and having witnessed how dynamic the spirit there is, I'm betting emotions are running high right about now.

All witty barbs, blogs, and fashion policing aside, that girl loves Texas more than you know. It's one of her most defining traits as a person. So please don't try and take that away from her. (You probably wouldn't be able to, but it's less work for all involved.)

I just thought it would mean something coming from the guy who has the absolute least to gain from this. And if I'm out of line in having written it, too bad. I can spare a Wednesday's worth of bad press if it means sticking up for a good soul.

JM

Say What You Need to Say

That's right, kids. It's time for the first John Mayer post of 2008. Okay...I'm sure there are many among you who think John Mayer is lame and that I'm lame for my insanely freakish fandom. But I highly encourage you to take a listen to "Say", written for the new movie The Bucket List, with Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson. I found it to be a great sort of anthem for starting off the new year. Listen. And then say what you need to say.

Dealbreaker

I heard about this plan of John Mayer's awhile ago. But since he's been known to pull gags on fans before, I hoped that was the case with this latest scheme. Unfortunately, it's true. It's true that John Mayer has chartered an entire Carnival cruise ship (a veritable "fun ship") to sail to the Bahamas in early February. It's true that John Mayer is shamelessly hawking said cruise on VH1. Wearing a smoking jacket. It's true that you can join roughly 3,000 of your not-so-closest friends on the pleasure cruise that is known as...the Mayercraft Carrier. Is this the part where I conclude that John has sold out? I think it is.

Cause for Alarm

1) Perez Hilton is reporting that John Mayer is now dating Cameron Diaz.

2) I have been called in to the *new* office tomorrow to begin orientation, dispelling my sense of security about having three more days before finding out that I can't actually hack it.

3) I just found out that Jennifer Ehle, portrayer of the beloved Miss Elizabeth Bennet in the BBC version of Pride & Prejudice, is from Winston-Salem, NC.

That's Impressive

Bug: head full of hair, running, stair-climbing, desperately cute pronunciation of the word "Elmo"

Pene-lo: patience with teething Bug, heartburn from N. Lo., heatwave, licking dog, house guest

Storm: great streams of forked lightning criss-crossing the sky, buckets of water pouring down

Becoming Jane: James McAvoy in breeches and Hessians

Becoming Jane Ashley: copious tears (and snot, I am sorry to report)

Bowling alley: hotter than the 7th circle of hell, no A/C

Bowling prowess: unbelievable skill followed by spectacular decline

Bowling alley food: angry resurgence of acid indigestion

South Carolina temperature: 106 degrees, heat index unknown

John Mayer: 12 hours on repeat - Continuum, Heavier Things, Room for Squares, Inside Wants Out

Mel: tan from Dominican Republic, free movie passes, insanely ambitious teaching schedule

Office: reconfigured

Boss: surprised by sudden reappearance of Ashley

Sweet & Savory: Cinnamon raisin French toast (J. Lo.'s generosity in picking up my tab)

Military Cutoff: construction nightmare

Old friends: still wonderful

I Heart John Mayer, Part 2

A couple of photos from Mayer's official site of the Philips Arena show. I love black and white photos, so I couldn't resist snagging these. The one of the left is definitely from the "keep us where the light is moment" during "Gravity." Can't be sure when the right one is, though I'd wager that is was one of the slower guitar solos, so maybe "Dreaming with a Broken Heart." Either way, at this point, I've relapsed into a full-blown case of Mayerholism.

Going Coastal

As I write this, I'm downing a yogurt for breakfast and thinking about the last few things I need to throw in my bag. That's right - this little nomad is hitting the road once more. I'm squeezing in one last summer trip to Wilmywood, in part to surprise my boss at her surprise birthday party this evening. I was looking for an old beach postcard to post with this, but instead, I found this undated archival picture of the back of the house I used to live in on Grace Street. I'll definitely be driving by there just to give the house my love.

Also, I wanted to say to all of you who have been following my progress with the j-o-b, I received an Official Offer yesterday. I think I'm planning to accept it, but I've got six hours in the car to be sure. (And to listen to Continuum on repeat. Ah, John Mayer.) Soon, this freeloader may be back on the payroll. More on that upon my return.

If you're in NC, get ready. Here I come.

I Heart John Mayer

In the dark arena, John Mayer walked to the microphone and said, "My name is John Mayer. I was born in Bridgeport, Connecticut. My music was born in Atlanta, Georgia." The lights went up, and the band launched into "Why Georgia." This moment launched my love for John Mayer into full-blown euphoria.

He really built a lot of great guitar solos into the new songs, like "Vultures" and "Belief." The jumbo-tron shots of his fingers moving over the frets were astounding, and it seemed that he was trying to see who among his fan base would get a thrill out of his well-developed guitar chops. He purposefully (I think) stayed away from "Your Body is a Wonderland" and other softer hits. "Belief" was actually my surprise of the night - I like the song, but the performance made it come alive. And when he closed with "Gravity," man, he rocked it. He and the band jammed, really working the song over.

I thought his voice sounded better last night than the last time I saw him live. He made some of his bizarre faces, but I thought he'd cut down on some of the mouth contortion that overly affected his singing. Particularly "Heart of Life," he sang cleanly and simply. And for a moment, I remembered when this album came out, and I couldn't stop listening to it, and I blogged about listening to this CD on the drive home, and my heart ached for Wilmywood and all that I'd left behind. So much so that I was transported for a moment back to the fall, back to MLK, and I watered up a little bit before returning to my body in Philips Arena.

The entire concert had me amped, but the encore for the show was what made the price of the ticket all worth it for me. "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room" acoustic with three-part harmony. Absolutely gorgeous. And then, the moment where me and Johnny went one on one. Where he looked into my soul and knew the song I most wanted to hear. Sitting alone on a stool under a white spotlight he simply said, "This is the first song I ever wrote." And started playing "Comfortable." From his EP Inside Wants Out. I never thought I'd hear him play it, and certainly not acoustic. It was haunting and wonderful and the only moment that I totally girled out on my brother and squealed.

As if that wasn't enough, he started playing "Georgia on My Mind" while the band reassembled, joined him, and then somehow turned it into "I'm Gonna Find Another You." And as I said to Justin, "Now that's an encore."

Set List
Why Georgia
No Such Thing
I Don't Trust Myself (With Loving You)
Vultures
Covered in Rain
Bigger Than My Body
Belief
Dreaming With A Broken Heart
I Don't Need No Doctor
The Heart of Life
Waiting on the World to Change
Gravity

-- encore --
Slow Dancing (acoustic)
Comfortable (acoustic)
I'm Gonna Find Another You

Meee-ow

A week from Sunday, John. I'm coming to get you.
Also, loved your post on the arrest at your concert last week.

Johnny's new Gap ad, photographed by Annie Lebovitz

Leaving: Part Five - A Room of One's Own

One of the things I've missed most about being home is my space. Granted, there's no place like home, and in home, I've been reunited with the room I grew up in. I spent many an hour there feeling like it was the one place in the world that was really mine. It's undergone several incarnations, from the Holly Hobbie wallpaper to the sunflower explosion of the 90s to its more recent makeover to nice neutral tones. But upon my return, I've found it hard to fit back into it - quite literally, between the tiny bed and the tiny dimensions, I can't physically live there comfortably. Currently, my possessions are exploding from overnight bags and boxes and littering every room in the house - and especially the floor of my tiny room, which now has only sparse patches of carpet showing so that you can step carefully through the rubble.

Crammed into my parents' house, I'm like a jack-in-the-box, stuffed without grace into a tight space and ready to spring at any moment if only I get wound up enough. As the days and weeks have rolled past, it's been impossible not to long for my house on Grace Street. Sometimes at night or in a passing moment, I'll recall my favorite details about the old apartment - the wide-board wooden floors and the places where the edges were cracking and splintering; the design on the black tin cover on the fireplace; the eerie circles of light cast upward by the living room chandelier that came from New Orleans; the thick grey plaster walls that held stains from hurricanes and air conditioner leaks; and of course, the giant many-paned windows that stretched up the walls and filtered in the sunlight, the moonlight and the view of my tree.

But there's something beyond the love of the old house itself in my longing for it. There is the point of it being a place that was mine - searched for and discovered totally on my own. And I belonged there. And I had solitude there. Though the solitude may have been too much at times and sometimes I looked forward to breaking away from it, there's a bit of me that wishes for a long stretch of quiet evening with sole possession of the remote control or the stereo or just silence if that is what I wished. Then there is the need for all my things: ready access to all my books (even if just to take them out and open their covers and flip idly through the pages without ever reading them); all of my CDs including Ray LaMontagne, Scarlett's Walk, Under the Iron Sea, and the whole John Mayer catalog which are somewhere in the storage bin; my photographs and teacups and the print of The Pink House that I love so much. Without the trappings of me, I feel a little strung out, unable to feel like much is really mine.

Just having turned 28, I think that I should be expanding out into the world. Instead, I feel like I'm shrinking, back-peddling into a former self that can fit into this house. While on some levels, it's been wonderful to reconnect with my parents and share their roof again, there are moments that I feel absolutely monstrous, like I'm going to Hulk-out and lose my mind. After so many years of relying on and only having to answer to me, myself and I, constant companionship can be stifling. Perhaps that's why I'm up past midnight most nights, relishing the quiet and the stillness. When, if I just close my eyes, I can pretend that when I open them, there will be the soft mellow glow of the downtown streetlights through the window casting shadows along the walls, all the way up to the cavernous ceiling while silence fills a space that is mine. All mine.

Amalgamation (uh-mal-gah-MAY-shun)

amalgamation (noun) - a combination or blend of diverse things, sometimes companies or metals; an alchemist's word...the number of things running through my head that are in no way related in reality but somehow encompass The Brain at the moment



Road
So many hours in the car between here and Wilmywood, here and Atlanta, just me and the Rav and the pavement. And for the first time in a long time, the car is meaningful - mine, that I'm paying for, that feels like me the way my first car (92 baby blue Honda Accord with pop-up lights) felt. Time passes in the car with me in hazy, unfocused autopilot, driving the drive I know well. Or lost in some imagined scenario: job interview, apartment hunting, going to London, winning backstage passes to John Mayer. Or in the music. Whatever I'm listening to, so into every note and word and feeling it and singing it and knowing it. Most of my CDs went into storage for lack of a place to put them. I am thankful for Keane and The Fray and Jeff Buckley and the words that I sing, that run through my mind long after, that tell me someone else has been in this place before.

Moments
Teetering on the edge of the other side of the canyon, casting a caustic glance at where I came from, I crave moments that affirm that it's good that I made the jump. Sometimes they come in the everyday - deciding which facial scrub to buy at Wal-Mart with Mom, uncapping and sniffing, reading the backs and pretending we have any idea what makes one better than the other. Going to the quilt shop, touching the fabrics, admiring the patterns and color pallettes, planning to make a skirt or a shirt while I'm home. Listening to the rain drip off the edge of the house and splatter on the front porch while reading.

And then there are the moments I know I am needed or wanted. When Eva tells me that she is so glad that I'm home, how badly she's missed me. How they all held their breath this weekend fearing I would say I had made a mistake. (The unspoken reality that I held my breath, too.) The observations of other people become surprising. The Boss asking, "Are you happy? Because you seem to be really happy." And it seems too long since someone has made that comment.

Observations
This odd quality in me rising to the top again after hibernating for some time. I open my eyes to what's just there and enjoy it. I take it in, when others miss it, overlook it. A red-headed woodpecker in the front yard. The vibrant green color of the choleas we planted two weeks ago. Riding with the windows down. That a product called "Fluff" in a jar exists.

Future
Growing less distant and more real with each passing day. The realization that I've got to move forward is dawning, but less disturbing. This respite in the safety net of home has given me a sense of peace. The knowledge that family and friends are here to rally behind me, to help me make the next leap, make it less scary. The first time, I walked the wire alone. But this time, there will be hands to keep me steady, push me forward.

My Boyfriend's Back

I couldn't find the raw photos on this, so please note that I concur with Perez Hilton's assessment. Additional delicious photos can be viewed on the Blackberry Curve site. Oh, how I wish I had better seats for the August 5 concert. A girl can dream.

DUMPED!

I can't help myself. This from Perez Hilton kind of makes me laugh. Sorry, Jess.

Modern Dad

Dad on John Mayer
Listening to iTunes on laptop. John Mayer Trio playing.

Dad: Who's this?

Me: John Mayer Trio.

Dad: Hmmm. I don't care for his singin' but I like his pickin'.


Dad on iPod
Telling Mom that it does take four hours to charge the iPod.

Dad: This iPod thing you're talking about...what is it? What does it do?

A New Shade of Green

I worry a lot about the way we all use the world without a thought or care to what we're leaving behind for the next generation to clean up - or go without. I read this blog entry from John Mayer, and I thought it was an incredibly encouraging way to think about environmentalism. It's kind of long, but it's really worth reading and considering. Enjoy.

(NOT) WAITING ON THE WORLD TO CHANGE - ENTRY NO. 1

(Preface: Don't get turned off from reading this by any pre-conceived notions you have about the subject matter. I'll make you a deal. When something I write turns you off, then you can click the "x" button and go about your day.)

A year ago this month I wrote a song called "Waiting on the World to Change", in which I tried to express the feelings of helplessness that come with knowing what needs to change in the world but also knowing the futility of trying.

Since that song has been released, there has been one social issue I've kept particularly focused on, silently keeping notes in my mind about what needs to be fixed (and more constructively, how to go about fixing it) while hoping that someone else sharing my exact views would carry out the work without my ever getting involved.

Hey, I'm just being honest.

I'm talking about (see preface!) global warming. Wait! Don't move the mouse. Finger down. Please. Just give me a second. You can watch that video of a cat playing the piano in a few minutes. I just may surprise you with what I'm going to say.

In the "degree of difficulty" column, reversing the effects of global warming is a .5 out of a possible 10, at least in theory. You just get back by reversing the way you came. No accounting for a volatile political world stage, or clashing of belief structures. Just throw this bitch in reverse and we're home.

The trouble is, nobody has managed to come close to bringing this issue to you in a way that doesn't turn you off. At best, it's a bore, and at worst (toilet paper square accounting?) it's insulting to human autonomy.

It seems to me that when it comes to this issue, we've been given only two sides to pick from: side one says the future of global warming does not present a doomsday scenario, almost chuckling the matter aside. Side two says it is a dire issue (which it is), and then goes on to inundate side one with so many separate nakedly-scientific points that they make naivete' seem cozy by comparison.

So here I am, introducing a third side. A laid-back, panic free approach to environmentalism. One that believes the message of "An Inconvenient Truth" is sound, but that it's an incredibly un-fun name for a movie. A side free from the cry of hypocrisy, for it doesn't make sweeping promises. A side that drives an SUV on the way to the grocery store but then produces nylon mesh bags at the checkout line. A side that believes in bringing a change of perspective to our government but letting Carl Rove finish his meal first.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Fans and Friends, I submit to you a third way: Light Green.

No thinking about "offsetting your carbon footprint". No rallies. No brow-beating people who think the Earth just has a fever. Pick one thing to change this year, and keep the rest of your life the same. After all, the only message the charts with escalating red lines are meant to send is that the red lines have to stop escalating, not that hey have to drop to the bottom of the graph by next Tuesday.

Part of the Light Green approach will be the (attempted) introduction of products that are cheap, easy alternatives to cut down on plastics. In the next 90 days I'm going to see how many of these products I can get produced. If it works, great. If not, you'll at least have blogs to read. I'm going to make this one of the focus points of my blog for the next few months., and hopefully by summer there will be a few items at the merchandise stands that you might not have a problem switching to.

And to anybody ready to cut me down for this, here's my full disclosure: I drive a Porsche SUV, I still drink lots of bottled water, and I will be flying private charter several times during my summer tour. However, my bus has been converted to Bio-Diesel, and I'll be coming up with even more ways to adapt to the Light Green mentality before I set out for the summer.

Now go watch that guy getting nailed in the balls on YouTube, but think about it. It's all you've got to do in order to go Light Green.

JM

Inquiring Minds Want to Know

The illustrious Megs has kindly consented to interview me (because I kind of asked her to). And now, you have the dubious honor of asking me to do the same. Here's how:

1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions of my choice.
3. Then, you should update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You have to include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you get to ask them five questions.

Number 1: Quick! The house is on fire! Excepting the obvious people & pets, what 5 things do you take?
1. Fuzzy Fur, the well-loved if not somewhat dishevled teddy bear I've had since I was six
2. Photo albums - I'm counting these as one gigantic armload
3. My black BCBG heels - don't tell the other shoes, but they're my favorites
4. The laptop, since it's got a lot of life history living in it
5. The original Clue movie poster Tom bought me - irreplacable!

Number 2: What is the best or weirdest reconnection you have made via the internet?
Hmm. I'd have to say the best reconnections have been the blogs. I've been able to keep in touch with some folks from high school and grad school via the blogs - it's nice to be part of the little e-neighborhood.

Number 3: What is your most hated word?
I really, really hate the word "pus." There is no context in which the word pus is good. It sounds horrible. It looks horrible on the screen. It is horrible. Oooh. Shudder. Pus.

Number 4: Tell me something funny you've never blogged before.
When I was freshman in high school, I was playing softball in P.E. with a Pakistani kid when we collided and he broke my nose. I was forced to sit in the field house with a 50-gallon garbage bag full of ice draped over my face while the coach called my mom to "come take a look" even though he didn't think it was broken. (This used to be a story I would tell like a party trick.)

Number 5: What is your all-time favorite song?
Oh, my, this is a very hard question. I'd have to say...well, I'm thinking of songs that I can hear over and over again without tiring of them. And a song that makes me feel warm and happy. Hmm. I guess I'm going to say - despite my love affair with John Mayer - "Tidal Wave" by David Gray, but if you asked me next week, it's probably say something different.