so...i have a bunch of stories from connecticut and florida. but i have some things on my mind lately, so i'm going to talk about them instead.

lately i've been wondering about aging and growing up and acting your age. i don't know if this is actually valid, because i know a lot of 30-40 year olds (and older) who act like they're 12, and a few 20-30 year olds who act like they're 40. age doesn't seem to matter much when it comes to behaving nicely to the people around you. i've had a few experiences lately with some old friends and new coworkers that have really made me question these things.

i guess the main thing i'm noticing is that there is a certain breed of person who will live perpetually and continuously in high school. these people were usually "popular", and apparently being older in a world where most people truly don't give a fuck just doesn't sit right with them. they have to constantly put the people around them down, make them feel inadequate, string them along with false friendships and talk a lot of shit behind everyone (friend or foe)'s backs. it's bizarre. and counterproductive. and hurtful.

i am a lucky, lucky girl. i've been through a lot of bizarre and interesting and disturbing experiences, and i've come out the other end of it all with an amazing crew of people. many of them i've known for 10 years, some even more, and they are for the most part caring and accepting and able to see me for the crazy/silly/drunk/sometimes overly emotional person that i am without too much judgement. as i said, i'm a lucky, lucky girl. knowing this has made the decision to let other people, who have not been quite as supportive, go. it's hard to see people you've known forever, and who you thought were your dearest friends at some point, for who they truly are. but if i was able to give up a limb with relatively little fanfare, i figure giving up a few douchebags shouldn't be too hard.

i love my life. i have a fantastic job, an adorable apartment, the most precious little chocolate cake monkey on the planet, an incredibly loving family, and a group of friends who i love. i suppose this era of my life has been about coming full circle and making things right. and unfortunately making things right means leaving certain things behind, whether it be drugs, never missing a party, or sucky people. i'm ready for it. i hope you all are too.

xoxo
-e

don't like

this is a deviation, as i'm about to write some thoughts about the present, but so it goes sometimes.

last night i went to a concert at the shittiest venue ever, webster hall, in new york. i love the kings of leon a whole bunch, but i seemed to forget that i absolutely hate being in crowds of people. especially crowds of people with drinks. especially drunk crowds of people with drinks. on top of that, i have a fake leg and the other one is broken, so being in a drunk crowd of people with drinks isn't really ideal.

all i have to say is that people really suck. more people stepped on my feet, kicked me, told me i was in their way, and spilled shit on me than ever before in my life. and did it all unapologetically. it was pretty rotten. i'm sorry, but i think i'm pretty tough when it comes to my physical situation; i rarely ask for special consideration (unless it means my friends and i don't have to stand in long lines, but who wouldn't do that once in a while?) and if anything i try to ignore the situation and act like a maniac as much as possible. but if there is one place where i feel like perhaps people should have a little courtesy, it's in a place where people are running around acting like morons. but i suppose that's the point: they're running around acting like morons. it was really appalling to see how little manners people have. if i saw a disabled person being shoved and kicked around on the verge of tears, i would try and figure out how to help. but that's just me.

so perhaps we can all take a moment to remember that we are not the only human beings on this planet and that karma is, in fact, a bitch. because next time i'm kicking you back and spilling a drink right over the top of your annoying hipster head.

xoxo
-e

north carolina

dear world,

after bonnaroo, which was wild and spectacular and dirty and hot, FH and his two friends and i headed back north. we stopped in ashville, north carolina at one of the friends' house and decided to take copious amounts of acid and drink ourselves into a stupor. things that happened: one boy attempted skateboarding down a 45 degree driveway with speedbumps and broke his arm, FH and i got kicked out of a movie theater/beer garden for being too loud and waving my leg in the air, someone ripped the cord out of the faceplate of my sirius satellite radio and we were left without decent music for the rest of the drive home, and we were eventually kicked out of the house by friend's roommates. deservedly.

we moved on to the next thing, which was visiting FH's friend Big Baldy in Charlotte. we arrived at the bar where he works, which was literally a double-wide trailer off the side of the highway, and quickly got to work on drinking heavily. FH and i were fine, but friend (who from now on we'll call Mr. Peanuts) was so heavily intoxicated and broken from his prior fall off the skateboard, that he stumbled into the bar, went into the bathroom and didn't come out. for a looooong time. we got worried so we knocked on the door, which swung open to MP sitting on the john with his pants around his ankles attempting to snort a big pile of coke off of his bare-ass thighs while eating a handful of peanuts. let's just say that even the people in the double-wide trailer were not amused, and he was sent back to the car for the rest of the evening. the rest of us drank and drank until it was time to go crash, at which point we all went to a BB's friend's house down the road to drink some more and talk about life. now, let me explain something about BB. he's a huge (and i mean HUGE) bald guy with a long red beard and a monster tattoo across his massive stomach that i didn't get a detailed look at, but i'm pretty sure has something to do with the confederate flag and some other slightly racist southern shit. i quickly realized that he was probably a clansman, but at this point i was in charlotte north carolina with a dirty little man i was supposedly about to marry and i hadn't had a sober minute in years, so i just decided to go with it. i learned later on that he was to be our minister. no fucking joke. so we chilled at BB's friend's house and they decided to take more acid. always a fun thing to do at 1 am with people you just met. i suppose it's a testament to my ability to always have fun no matter where i am or who i'm with, but i actually had a pretty rad time that evening.

soooo...it was going to be BB's birthday and we were going to get married, so what else do people do in the south on occasions such as this but have a bonfire in a trailer park?!? of course!!! the wedding took place in a huge field under a little canopy next to a bonfire. i knew exactly four people there at the beginning of the night...by the end i had about thirty new friends and had burned my exboyfriends sneakers in the fire. there were babies and dogs and lots and lots of wifebeaters. (i mean the shirts, but i suppose there might have been an actual real live one or two there as well, considering the situation.) instead of flowers i held a can of bud light, and our vows consisted of promises to blow each other on a regular basis. it was all very classy.

all i remember after that is waking up hearing that Mr. Peanuts had slept on the couch and peed all over it. we loaded up the car and headed north pretty quickly after that.

xoxo
-e

and then...

dear world,

so i shacked up with the dirty little man in an old church in a remote hippie town in connecticut. it was ok...much like with the afore-mentioned lunatic portuguese fellow, the entire relationship was primarily based around debauchery, with a shitload of natty ice and a small pup named monkey thrown in for good measure. (and we will definitely be getting to thelonious monkey at a later date.)

let me just say that i'm kind of leaving out the entire part where i was dating another portuguese fellow, who happened to be future-husband's friend, when i met FH. FH and i ended up hooking up on mike ice's floor (just one of the random stupidly-nicknamed losers i managed to find and befriend along the way) one night and deciding at 7 am to go to a music festival in tennessee called bonnaroo. it is there, while he sold acid and i enjoyed the amazing music of the police, tool, lily allen, and dr. dog, that we decided to stop in north carolina and get married. but that's for another day. i will say, however, that portuguese fellow #2 was none too pleased about the situation and there was much puffing up of chests and threats of beatdowns thrown all around. i think someone eventually ended up with a black eye. it was pretty awesome.

anyway, one time FH told me that his crackhead cousin, whom he hadn't seen in a few years, was coming over to our little den of sin. he was going to bring a friend of his who was a tattoo artist and said guy would do tattoos for free if we provided him with a space to do it in and some beer. sounded good to me (and let me just say that at this point i hadn't had a sober day in about 7 years so almost anything sounded good to me), so i went along for the ride. as a bunch of friends and FH and i are chilling, listening to music, etc., a knock comes on the door. i look out the window and see the three largest human beings i have ever seen on this planet. there was a male and two females, and i am not joking, i thought the balcony/deck outside our second-floor apartment was going to collapse. i'm talking somewhere around 400 pounds apiece, and this is not an exaggeration. luckily i was highly inebriated at this point, so i said "screw the floorboards, let's get tattooed!". i'm nothing if not down for whatever every minute of every day. i'm trying to work on that. anyway, crackhead cousin was behind the 3 mammoth beasts, and was actually pretty normal looking in comparison, but looks can be deceiving because he promptly disappeared into the only bathroom in the place for about an hour, came out to the stares of everyone in the place, said "what?" in an accusing tone, and put his dirty spoon in the sink. that began a night of incredible stupidity, crackiness, and oddity that has rarely been matched.

so the male mammoth turned out to be the "tattoo artist", and apparently one of the females was a "piercer". i use these terms loosely. what happens next defies words...let's just say i blacked out and woke up with this: it was supposed to be a skull and crossbones with microphones and headphones, but it has now earned the adorable nickname "dildos and earmuffs". sigh.

apparently sometime after that, crackhead cousin stole the mammoths' car, slipped one of them ecstasy and told her it was vicodin, and disappeared. FH lent the two remaining mammoths my car to go find crackhead and his mammoth friend who he had apparently kidnapped before drugging, and they didn't return for about 12 hours. so i wake up to a missing car, a missing crackhead and mammoth, and the worst tattoo known to man. and now i have a permanent reminder of why it is not a good idea to A. let crackheads into your apartment, B. get tattoos done by random people let alone in your house, and C. be a fucking retard.

the end.

xoxo,
e

let's start from the very beginning

dear world,

one time i lost my mind. instead of taking opportunities for music and success and the generally amazing life that was to be my destiny post-graduation, i decided to shack up with a lunatic portuguese fellow for about 8 months and engage in a neverending cycle of debauchery, narcissism, and self-destruction. it was not one of my greatest moments, let's put it that way.

it was soon after that debacle ended that i met my future husband.

one night i was at a bar with a group of friends, and this crazy guy with the words "piss" and "vomit" tattooed on his arms intrigued me. he was very small and very dirty, but of course my taste in men has never been seen as classy or typical. or healthy. somehow, after many shots and beers, we ended up sitting at the bar with my fake leg in his hands and a full beer being emptied into it. apparently it had always been his dream to drink a beer out of a prosthetic leg...unfortunately, there's a hole at the bottom of the socket which serves to hold the suction cup that keeps the leg attached to my baby leg. the end result of future husband's attempt at a dream come true was beer all over the floor and his pants, and a rusty leg that had to be taken into the shop the next day. when i took the leg in to my trusty doc, al, he was appalled. not only by the beer-smelling leg, but also by the lovely array of squirting penises and other vulgar pictures that had mysteriously appeared on the bottom and top of the foot. al promptly took a belt sander to it and, that, my friends, is why i now have a foot that looks like i have acquired an accute case of leprosy.

xoxo,
e

so...what's up?!?

dear world,

i fell off the edge of you for a minute, but i managed to cling on to a small tree branch and claw my way back up. so a few cuts and bruises, but nothing a little love and patience won't cure.

if i explained all things i saw while hanging from that weak little branch, it would take months to get through it all. so that's what i'm going to do...tell a story a day until all the stories are told and then start moving forward from the present. it might take a while. but believe me, it's worth it...oh world, you're too big and beautiful and scary and amazing for words, and i've been so fortunate to see so many strange and wonderful people and places that make you what you are.

so for now, dear world, here's to the beginning of a beautiful new friendship.

xoxo,
e

it's a celebration bitches

dear loves of my life,

i got totally played. i went to pick up my friend at work and head into the city and i got bombarded by 40 crazy drunks that i call my friends yelling "surprise!". and i don't remember much after that. but it rocked. thanks guys, it's good to know i have friends, especially considering what a degenerate i am.


xoxox
-e

moving on and on and on

so here is the link to some of my senior recital recordings: www.myspace.com/emawalker

considering how weird and dramatic and traumatic the whole situation was, i think the recording turned out pretty damn awesome. so there you go, me in the absolute raw. that's me singing while i'm happy and devastated and anxious and elated all at the same time. do with it what you will.

i graduated. after 8 years. granted i took a ton of time off, but starting college in 1998 and finishing in 2006 makes you feel something special, regardless of the circumstances. thanks steve and nat and of course jackie. i'll do my best to make you proud.

about it all

about my tattoos? i guess i never thought about it. my body was never going to look perfect, obviously. i think that i started thinking that since a whole quarter of my body was going to look different, why not cover the rest of it with art. i don't put random stupid tattoos on my body, i put paintings that i like on my skin. and it works for me. so for me it's a whole picture, my tattoos, my body, my leg. it's all one picture/package. i think that if people don't know about my leg they freak out alot more about my tattoos. once people see my leg they seem to see the whole picture and somehow appreciate the whole picture. even if they are 60 years old, which is totally weird but i guess makes sense.

i guess my whole deal is getting people to like my body, titanium legs and tattoos and all. i can't say i don't go through the day worrying that i'm a freak or that people won't like me or that i'll never get acceptance. all i can do is pretend that it's sexy in some way and that it doesn't matter and hope people out there share that view. because otherwise i'm doomed to a life of freakery and low self-esteem and that's just not an option.

sacrifice

did you ever feel like you have to give up something of who you are to be in a relationship? i don't necessarily mean a romantic relationship...it could be friendship, or even a relative, or a teacher or boss or or whatever. i feel like every once in a while i look around me and see all these amazing people that know a certain part of me; the musician part, the funny part, the student part, the daughter part...and that's not all me. as i'm finally trying to wrap up this phase of my life, i'm realizing how few people i know who get to see every single part of every single part of my life. it's not bad, i wouldn't want my parents to see me out at a club at 4 am. and i wouldn't want my dnb friends to see me nerding out in a transcription class. but it makes you wonder about the nature of a whole human psyche...how you can be one complete human being in front of even one other person. i haven't found a person yet who knows me backwards and forwards, and although that's not necessarily a bad thing, it makes me wonder.

dhc

those who know me know that i love to watch the learning channel and discovery health channel. i love to spend hours internalizing 1 in a million genetic mutations and bizarre psychological diseases...i can't help it. i can't tell if it makes me feel better or worse...i guess maybe it's because of my own personal physical anomaly. in addition, i have a close relative who's severly autistic, and two who are schizophrenic.

so perhaps my fascination isn't wholly self-centered.

but MAN i love these shows..."born with two heads", "i am my own twin", "the boy who had no skin"...

my mother thinks i'm a total sadist even watching this shit. i guess once in a while i just like to feel lucky that i'm not them. even with one leg. does that make me a bad person?

ha

"I definitely would have had a little more tact and not drunk so much alcohol."
-bijou phillips

one more post-death late-night post

norah jones is on conan right now with her "country" band, the little willies.

i thought she was what i was supposed to be living up to/thankful for in terms of her fame/competing with...same age as me, "jazz" singer, 5 grammies. yeah, well, i'm not singing country, so my bizarre competition with her is officially over.

this past week has been insane. i have been alternating between my sadness and elation because through death has come reunions with old friends and, surprisingly, gigs. i feel bad about talking shop and ultimately landing amazing gigs while at a funeral, but at the same time i know jmac would've done the same and probably is looking down at the whole situation laughing.

i'm tired of crying. it's time to start living in the celebration.

the beginning of the end

it's finally here, the inevitable. soon i'll be nothing more but another 20-something musician hoping to make enough money to not have to get a crappy day job. until then, i'm engulfed in more recitals, concerts, and bureaucratic nonsense to last me the next ten years. here it is, my dear hearts, the beginning of the end:




if you can, try and make it. i promise it won't suck too much.

ode to jmac

dear jackie,

thanks for being an inspiration to everyone around you. you were incredibly thoughtful, creative, and kind, but you were also a perfectionist who drove the musicians lucky enough to learn from you to do bigger and better things. without you i wouldn't be graduating from college, i wouldn't be as good as a musician as i am, and i definitely wouldn't know jack shit about jazz. thank you, my friend. you will be missed by every single person who you touched throughout your lifetime.

xoxo
-e

austin in a nutshell

four days is too short for a proper vacation. here's a few highlights: ISLANDS is my new absolutely favorite band, barbecue and mexican food are SO much better in texas than anywhere else, my brother is adorable, having an orange car is awesome because you never lose it in a big parking lot, lonestar beer is the best $2 beer i've had in a long time, and indie rockers look funny.

that just about sums it up. here's some visuals.

off on the left foot

it's thundering and lightning right now. my favorite kind of weather and we haven't had a really good thunderstorm in months. after this past week of nonsense and bad luck, a good thunderstorm might be just what i need to send me off to texas tomorrow, maybe just what everyone needs to cleanse their brown shitty auras and start the spring off on the right foot. i don't know what happened to the universe last week, but all i know is that most people i know had a crapfest of bad luck and bad experiences, ranging from getting fired to having things stolen to the unfortunate breaking of front teeth, not to mention having the photo of said broken teeth spread around the interweb in a matter of minutes. last week was a culmination of all the bad things we've done coming back to bite us in the ass. last week was the proverbial "shit hitting the fan". and last week made a lot of people cry, so i'm very glad it's over because it's not fun to watch people turn into their five-year-old selves, heads flung back, mouths wide open, drool and tears and snot becoming one nasty gelatinous mixture. i like it when people are happy...funny how watching someone laugh that hard with their head flung back, mouth wide open, and the brutal look of a person desperately attempting to hold in their bodily fluids is so much more attractive.

i do have to say that if someone is going to steal my shit, then being bold enough to go into my car in my driveway directly in front of my house in the middle of the night is pretty damn brazen. i almost admire the fucking bastard that did it. but i'd still kick him in the balls if i saw him on the street, i mean fair is fair.

who would've thought?

i thought only old people or out of shape people got acid reflux disease, but apparently so do alcohol-guzzling jazz-singing little maniacs like me. so now that i finally got to go in to see the otolaryngologist and have a scope done, it has been revealed that not only do i have a very severe case of acid reflux that has dulled my esophogal nerves, i also have a cyst on my left vocal chord and severe swelling that is making it very difficult to get any good sound out of my throat. at least i know that i'm not crazy, which the nurse practitioner implied a few times while handing me a bottle of nasonex. i am now officially on voice rest until the summer, although i can do my recital if i don't go nuts belting while rehearsing, and i have to see a speech pathologist to make sure i'm using my voice in a way that works with my old person disease. basically i'm shit out of luck. isn't that always the way. *cry*

me and robert on the case

i love unsolved mysteries. i watch it every chance i can, which is pretty often because it's on twice a day, five days a week on lifetime. me and robert stack have an understanding: he gives me scary people to look for on the street and i look at people on the street and make sure that they aren't the people that are going around creating mysteries yet to be solved. sometimes it's kind of hard to do because most of the shows are from 1988-1996, and then you have to factor in the aging process or changing hair and clothing styles. sometimes i see a dude with a mustache walking hurriedly and sketchily through williamsburg and i try to imagine him with a mullet, muttonchops, or big aviator sunglasses. a couple times i've come close to calling the unsolved mysteries tipline, but i don't think it would be fair to ruin some sad sketchy dude's life based on a ten year old episode of unsolved mysteries. well that and the fact that the tipline doesn't exist anymore. come to think of it, robert stack doesn't exist anymore. but i still do love unsolved mysteries, especially the UPDATES and weird southern family reunions. i don't like the alien abduction episodes though, those are just bullshit.

we be crazy

i love this picture. it perfectly demonstrates us. at direct drive. drunk. oh joy!