Friday, August 30, 2002
- It's eighteen minutes to four -Off to Asheville, NC - home, sweet, home, though not really. I already live in my actual hometown, but Asheville feels more like home.
Also, my hair is orange, thought not as orange as I would like. In fact, you can only tell if I'm standing directly under a light, but, in contrast to Anne Shirley, I will imagine that it is much more noticeable. Though, honestly, it's is not really a big deal, just slightly disappointing.
I'll try to write something more substantial on Monday.
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Thursday, August 29, 2002
- Eric Millin -It's always a good day when you leave the library with the sole aim of re-caffeinating and you run into an old friend who recently moved to town. Old friends are a comfort - especially when you see them so rarely. It's exciting to know that there are finally Ashevillians in town. I like the folks here too, but it's nice to have those who've experienced your history as well.
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Wednesday, August 28, 2002
- My name is written here -This has nothing to do with Theology, Scripture, or Hymns - but my site is still down and I'm ready to post it. So without further ado...
I spent this weekend with my grandmother down in the Carolina Coastal Plains and I was once again impressed with the fact that I need to ask more questions. Turns out her mother and grandfather were also musically inclined as they call it down here. My great-grandmother played guitar & my great-great-grandfather played in a country band that toured around campgrounds and such. I was too stunned to ask for more information. No one has ever told me this. I know so little about my heritage.
On a similar note, it’s only recently that I have realized how artistically bent my family is. We all have an overwhelming urge to create – and maybe it’s like this for everyone – but if not, this has been such a crucial (though unspoken) a part of my upbringing that I have been absolutely blind to it. For starters, my grandfather made signs for a living and if you travel through southeastern NC, you can still see the works of his hands. I also can remember him drawing my brother when Aaron was about three and just being amazed seeing my brother’s face appear on what was once blank paper. This is the same man who would try to sneak Hank Williams tapes into the car radio (to have my grandmother make him take them out) and he would go around singing old country songs in his rough baritone voice – always slightly off-key, but a beautiful noise. For my grandfather, creating was just a normal part of life.
One of my strongest memories growing up is that of my mother playing piano. I cannot remember this piano ever being in tune, but she played it anyway. From my mother, I learned to put my whole self into what ever I was playing and how to take someone else’s tune and make it my own. My mother (as well as her sister) also can make about anything. She always made our birthday cakes – I remember one based on The Wizard of Oz (complete with Dorothy, Toto, the Tin Man, the Cowardly Lion, and the Scarecrow). Until our house flooded, our Christmas tree was full of ornaments she made from felt because she and my father couldn’t afford to buy enough ornaments for their tree when they were first married. My whole life experience is full of my mother’s creations – even now I have aprons, a tea cozy, etc. Basically, if we can’t afford it, she makes it and sometimes she just makes it even if we could just buy it. I know I can always call home and hear “Oh! I have an idea! Why don’t you…?”
From my father, I learned the other side of creativity – how to appreciate things. He used to play trombone, but he only plays now if you beg for years. Now he mainly sits and listens and enjoying himself even more than those performing – the perfect audience. Everyone should elicit my father for a fan. There is no jealousy or thoughts of maybe-I-could-do-that-too. He simply enjoys the experience and I find this is rare. Also, my father loves food. Our conversations revolve around how to make different dishes better, new ways to cook things, but mainly how incredible that brisket was that we ate two years ago. (I’m not kidding either!) My father has mastered enjoyment and I’m hoping one day I will too.
I could continue on and on – about my brother who plays guitar, writes, & makes independent films; about my sister who taught herself piano and is always singing something (and much better than I do!); about my uncle and his banjo playing days; about my cousins who just wrote, directed, and produced a film. I may have once said that I create because it’s in my blood, but I don’t think I ever quite realized what I was saying. This truly is my heritage!
There is something comforting in having this linage to rest upon. I am not a pioneer – I create because I am a Bevill, a Thompson, a Saxton, a Phipps. I grew up in college towns, my accent is pretty much lost, and I love foreign films and goat cheese, but I still know where I am from and I carry this with me even though my life has not been rooted in farmland like those before me. And as strange as it may sound to contemporary America, it is good to know that I am not solely my own person, but part of something bigger, greater and unchanging. You can run from home, but it always finds you again.
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"We live in an age of music for people who don't like music."Nice post regarding T Bone Burnett and DMZ records by KATA IWANNHN.
- Larry Poons
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- Cease striving and know that I am God -Once again, providence disrupts my feeble aims and things turn out all the better. We redid the deleted track last night and it is so much better than the night before - seeing as I was more than satisfied the first time round, this is saying a lot! I am fortunate to have such talented (and patient!) friends.
Also it is still raining. This is day four. If I hadn't left the hose running, I would not be as amazed at the water still falling from the sky. Once again my mistakes are redeemed. It's a comforting thing to be so surrounded by such mercy.
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Tuesday, August 27, 2002
- Play that funky music -The good news is that we finally were able to get my friend Lee in the studio to put down mandolin and viola tracks. The good news is that these parts fit the songs perfectly and really give them the right amount of weight. The bad news is that we lost the viola track right as Lee was driving away from the building. (Fortunately, it only took one take, so I'm hoping we are able to fix things tonight. Recording is an adventure in the truest sense!)
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Monday, August 26, 2002
- He sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous -What a beautiful sight!
And it's made even more beautiful by the fact I accidentally left the hose running at my parents' farm for six hours Friday night. Talk about well-timed rain!
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