my notes on the note, etc.

I played a show in West Chester, PA, tonight. Opened for Dia Frampton. Though, I was telling a friend this over the phone, and he thought I said Peter Frampton. Which cracked me up. And I think my friend was a little disappointed that he misheard me.

The venue (the note) was really cool. Well, it looked exactly like this, actually.
And the weird thing about playing solo–other than the rather overwhelming revelation as you walk onto stage that every last note about to be heard has to come from YOURSELF and JUST YOURSELF–is that you generally arrive alone. And, since you have to sound check and stuff, you generally arrive early. Which means there is a lot of downtime to be had. Which means that there is plenty of time to read the various things people have written on the walls of the green room over the years. And gaze at the pictures.

Some of which are not so gaze-able. 

Trust me on that.

But, I think my favorite thing I read on the green room walls of The Note had to have been this:

There are two keys in life:

The turkey,

The monkey,

and sometimes the donkey.

I am not sure why, but it just struck me as so funny. And rather nonsensical in that the phrase actually lists three keys instead of just two. But who’s counting, right?

And–here’s something so nice–the producer of the show gave me more than we agreed upon. And it wasn’t a mistake, either. I reminded him of exactly how much we’d set and then he goes and meticulously counts out more than that and hands it to me like it ain’t no thang at all. But it is a thing; it’s quite a thing. And I am grateful for that thing.

Tomorrow morning I go back to NYC and then I have a fitting for another fashion show and then a rehearsal with some bamf brooklyn musicians who have warned me that they own both a waffle maker and a juicer and not to be alarmed if waffles and juice come into play. Of course, I would be shocked and appalled, but I suppose I would choke them down for the good of musical camaraderie and all that. The fact that I LOVE waffles and juice would have nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

Ahem.

And then I want to go into the laundry room to record something I have in mind for Valentine’s Day. Which is vastly approaching, you know. And guess what? It’s gonna be good this year. No, really, it is. Cause I get to play more music at Sleep No More’s Manderley Bar, so happy Valentine’s Day, indeed.

Maybe I will even wear pink.

Maybe.