Ring Dixie mix

I started making CD mixes for different roads in 2005. I was crashing with Bova in Columbus if you can call five months of free rent a "crash" - I think after three months it probably officially becomes a mooch - and I was driving my mom's car regularly down I-75 south to Cincinnati.

I would put my iPod on shuffle in the car and my dad's old voice recorder in the well between the two front seats. When a song sank into my head or made me dance in my seat, I'd say the song title in the voice recorder and my favorites would later become the mix, in that case the I-75 mix.

I'd burn the mix onto blank CDs, send them out to my people, and that would be that: the songs that evoke that stretch of road for me. I wouldn't keep copies for myself so I've completely forgotten what were on all those first mixes.

The last two mixes I made were Berlin 1 and Berlin 2 in 2008. They weren't named for wide interstates or narrow city streets; They were were sidewalks and weedy cracks, the puddles I waded through. They were the old wooden floors of the rooms I slept in, the grey winter skies, and the day I sat by a lake on a red towel.

It's been two years and I've finally mixed up a new batch of songs and put them together in order to pay homage to Kentucky and Iceland, specifically Kentucky's Dixie Highway, just up the road from where I live (for just a little longer), and Reykjavik's Ring Road, the road that is famous for being the only one that goes all the way around the island, the road that one cannot avoid in Iceland. This music is a little bit country and a little bit electronic and probably f'ed but that's me so whatever.






1. Kentucky (Interlude) - Cunninlynguists

2. My Eyes To See - Alcoholic Faith Mission - The Danish band we found at a bar in Reykjavik.

3. True - New Models - A favorite RACECAR artist.

4. Baffioso - TOMBOY - Interpretive dancing to this around my living room is very fulfilling.

5. Heard It On The Radio - The Bird and The Bee - Ha ha! Hall & Oates remake. Thanks Lindsay.

6. We Don't Live Here Anymore - Jakob Dylan - My friend Jimmy works for Jakob and we saw him when they played in Covington. Nice fellow, as my dad would say.

7. Exploding Head - A Place to Bury Strangers - My head exploded when I saw APTBS live, in a good way.

8. 1000 Dreams - Miss Kittin & The Hacker - I find it very difficult to make a mix without Miss Kittin. Like impossible.

9. Sólin mun skína - Rökkurró - No clue what this is about what with its being in Icelandic but I like to sing along phonetically.

10. Arlene - Crystal Bowersox - Arlene is our bus driver on the Idol tour. She's a bad ass.

11. The Devil's Tears - Angus & Julia Stone - I hear this song in sepia tones.

12. Lovelife - Atmosphere - Atmosphere should be king.

13. Tornado - Jónsi - I considered walking down the aisle to this song until I listened to the words: Erupt like volcano - You flow through the inside - You kill everything through - You kill from the inside. Not EXACTLY what I was going for.

You can download these songs here here.

underwear that's fun to wear

In Target the other week I saw superhero underwear in the boy's section and it made me happy. I don't remember having Underoos as a kid but that's okay because I do now. Today I'm Spiderman! When we were checking out, for some reason the cashier said, "I hope these are for a kid."

Why, cashier? Why do you hope that?

"They're for me," I set her straight.

She kind of laughed but also gave me a look. Jealous?

T minus 30 days

We've been talking about moving out west and I think it's a good idea. I hope so because I SIGNED A LEASE LAST WEEK. Woo!

This will be Matthew's first move to the Pacific and my fourth (Olympia - 1996, Seattle - 1999, Los Angeles - 2007, Oceanside - 2011) but this time is different. The strongest incentive for us to move is our relationship; I go to California for work regularly enough that the three-hour time zone difference is annoying. And flying four hours for a meeting is annoying and not seeing each other for five weeks during tour rehearsals? ANNOYING.

It might also be nice to just, I don't know, be in California. Our apartment is in Oceanside, 100 miles south of Los Angeles, 30 miles north of San Diego, and seven blocks from the water.

Also, I've never moved with someone. Not really. I moved with a boyfriend to Olympia but but we didn't live together. I moved to Seattle with a friend but we didn't own anything. All of our belongings in the world fit into a Ford Escort. Now my material possessions have expanded to the size of a two-bedroom apartment and this might not sound like much to some but to me it's huge.

Not only do I own the most wondrous thing in the world one can own, a tempurpedic bed, but Matthew and I counted the other day and we own seven modes of transport, not including our feet, buses, and trains. We sold his car so that leaves us with one but we bought two mopeds from the 80's and we have four bicycles: his single track, his BMX, my ten speed and my Electra cruiser. Moving a lot of stuff is physically a lot more work but somehow it seems easier because I'm not doing it alone. Was that cheesy? Fuck it.

Several train lines stop in Oceanside so we could theoretically get to San Diego or Los Angeles without driving. Every time I say that to someone they say, "Yeah but what are you going to do once you GET to LA?" I don't know! I'm just saying I can get there without driving or flying which is more than I could do before. Jeez.

Last week, before I met Crystal in San Diego to begin working on the promo appearances for her album release (Farmer's Daughter, Dec 14 - You should buy it), I spent three days apartment searching in O'side. I was one step away from signing a lease on a place that I called The Boat because that's how small it was. I liked it though, because it had character - I'm a big fan of character - even if there was only room in the kitchen to chop one vegetable at a time and we would have had to hinge a chopping board to the wall.

I woke up my second morning in a panic, wondering if we'd be able to walk inside The Boat once we moved furniture in. If it feels like a small sailboat when empty, a single couch would make us look like hoarders. But it also had a giant yard and little french doors that opened onto the giant yard. And the next door neighbor owned a giant tortoise and a pig, bizarrely strong selling points for me. I was completely determined we'd make it work since the other places I'd seen in our price range smelled like garbage or were next to auto dealerships.

By the way, this is where I turned to Marisa and said I think I'm becoming booschy, as in the bourgeoisie.

There was another place down the street from the The Boat, a four-plex that looked really well taken care of from the outside and like it wouldn't smell of garbage. An ad had gone up for one of the units on Craigslist and I left a message. The night before I was leaving for San Diego, I called again and told the machine I was sorry to stalk it but I was leaving town and would really like to see the place before I go.

The next morning I was on my way to drop off the application at The Boat when the man from the answering machine called me back and I headed to the four-plex instead. And listen, I am not exaggerating when I say that I could chop 25 vegetables at once in this place (I don't want to, but that's not the point). There is a second bedroom so we have a work space / music studio and the floors are Spanish tile and we won't have to walk into the bathroom sideways.

Oh, and there's laundry out back. Because in California it's never a high of 22 degrees like it is in Kentucky. Not that I'm going to miss something, a certain je ne sais quoi, about my local KY laundromat with its smog of cigarette smoke and people yelling at their kids and calling them dummies.

Yeah, I signed that lease with a quickness. And handed over credit reports and dog photo album and offered 8x10 copies of my social security card and license. It was ours within hours. That night I stayed with Miguel and Mark in San Diego and Miguel told me the delicious news that he has a sailboat. A boat. That we are going to sail on.

We are now T minus 30 days, pulling out of the driveway on Jan 11.

Waking up in Oceanside

Marisa makes espresso and I get snaphappy

I'd like to put the following post into context. Over the summer, I took a total of 250 photos. I came home from a week in Iceland with 467. Last week, I stayed with Marisa in Oceanside, CA and took ONE HUNDRED PHOTOS of her making coffee.

Am I secretly in love with Marisa? I don't know, maybe. I might just also be in love with her craftiness. She lives in a small space that is insanely cozy and lovely and she kept whipping out gadgets that don't take up much space and don't use much energy but totally get the job(s) done. Enter the Presso espresso maker.

Sadly I didn't document the space heater that looks like a bulletin board on the wall or the window blind that pulls down to become a movie screen with help from the projector that is mounted in the rafters.

And if you start to feel like I'm getting long-winded, think of the 88 photos that I didn't show. Take it away, Marisa!

I'm just going to say it

The Doobie Brothers are awesome.

laughing quietly to myself

About how I just bought legwarmers with stirrups.

yoga for indie rockers

HAHAHAHAHAHA.

I bought it.

Pittsburgh sneakers

Pittsburgh, PA

missing

Thanks for the heads up, Cathy.

laughing quietly to myself

About how I stayed up until 3 am watching episodes of Sister Wives.

Reykjavik up close

Reykjavik from above

Alcoholic Faith Mission

The Iceland Airwaves music festival was the week that we were in Iceland but when we checked online, it was completely sold out.

DAMN!

Well, we reasoned, there are plenty of free off-venue performances. We'll still catch some shows and save some money, nice since Iceland is so expensive you practically have to take out a loan to buy a hot dog.

Our hotel was an hour and a half outside of the city and midway through our trip we drove back in to Reykjavik. It was windy and overcast, threatening to rain. We puttered around bookstores and shops and got jacked up on excellent coffee made by the black-haired barista at C is for Cookie.



From reading the article about C is for Cookie in The Grapevine, I now know that our barista and her husband own the coffeeshop and are both Polish librarians. LOVE THAT.

We sat in the coffeeshop reading and Matthew came across an interview with the band Go-Go Darkness. Asked what they recommend in Iceland, they said that they're anti-social and don't listen to what people tell them to see and do but Icelandic Fish & Chips is a good place to eat. Sold!

After halibut, salad, potatoes, and skyronnes - dipping sauces made from the criminally tasty Skyr yogurt - we almost cried of happiness. We were so fat and satisfied that we decided to forgo music that night and return Friday instead.

See, it was maybe 9 pm and the streets were still quiet. By all accounts the city gets going at midnight and from then until sunrise you can expect to witness and partake, if you're so inclined, in excessive drinking, public puking, and random sex AKA the Icelandic way of life.

I'd also read in the descriptions of clubs and bars that one of them is popular with "the older set (35+)". "Agh!" I shrieked, "I'm in the older set!" Apparently I'm harboring issues with aging. It's taking me a bit by surprise. But as part of the older set, I was perfectly happy to leave early and drive home that night, something I should mention is easier said than done.

The main road, Route 1, is lit leaving Reykjavik. Fairly soon, however, the lights disappear for just reflectors on the side of the road. And this is fine, I'm sure, when you are used to negotiating mountain passes in the pitch black rain and fog. It gave me a severe case of the creeps. Matthew gripped the wheel and I got real quiet. Intermittently I'd whisper, "You're doing a really good job," and then shut up again. Later, when we were out of the hills and down in flat valley ground, we felt safe enough to emote as poetically as we could.

"Fuck, that was fucked up!"

Twice, actually, we drove the death-grip home and after the second time reconsidered Friday night. We wouldn't enjoy the music or a drink if there were any clouds or rain, we'd just worry about plunging off cliffs. With a lump in my throat, I canceled our last night at the peaceful ranch hotel out in the middle of nowhere and booked a room in the city.

On Friday we went to a bar where the Danish band Alcoholic Faith Mission was playing a free show and we ordered beers and shots of Brennivín, Icelandic schnapps also referred to as black death.



Black death. So smooth. So friendly.

We didn't know anything about Alcoholic Faith Mission and I expected something hard-edged, rough around the edges. They were, in fact, melodic and I fell for them hard. They had fun on stage, we had fun, and except for when I wanted to punch the smart-ass American kid in the audience who wouldn't shut up for the love of god, all was good.

I would have bought their CD after the show but I was too busy getting another shot of Brennivin which was secretly kicking my butt. It was such a big secret, I had no idea until Matthew - who was also secretly getting hammered - and I were basically skipping down the sidewalk, flashing photos and shoving pizza and hot dogs in our mouths.

I bought their music online when I got home and it sounds nowhere near as raw as live but I'd much prefer a band that I know is truest when they're playing for people and not just the result of studio production.

The man in this video is the lead singer.

Jöklagöngur*

Hi, I'm going on a Jöklagöngur*



*Jöklagöngur = glacier walk

The name of the glacier we walked on is Solheimajökull. It is the glacial tongue of the Mýrdalsjökull ice cap which covers one hell of a volcano, Katla.

Matthew and I admitted to each other early in the trip that, while we are kind of afraid of volcanoes, we wouldn't totally mind if one erupted during our visit. I know that's selfish.

It would have been very bad timing, however, if Katla blew while we were innocently stomping around in our crampons and having an "experience". If you remember the volcano Eyjafjallajökull that erupted in April and whose ash shut down airports across Europe, well, Katla is nearby and makes Eyjafjallajökull look like the nerd who gets his ass kicked during gym. Katla is the big bully.

Katla erupts once or twice a century and the last eruption was in 1918 which means it's go-time.

This map shows why there are many more volcanoes in Iceland than in the rest of Europe. Behold the seam of the tectonic plates Iceland sits on, those which are slowly pulling apart.



A few days before glacier walking, we were driving our rental Hyundai down THE ROAD. Route 1, the Ring Road, is the only road that you can pretty much count on being paved outside of the city and larger towns and when I say pretty much I mean that in some places it's still gravel. There are plenty of other paved roads but many more that aren't.

When we picked up the car from the airport Budget rental at 6 am and asked if it's 4-wheel drive, we were told no. When the woman said it would be $1,000 for an upgrade, we quickly warmed up to 2-wheel drive. Anyway, she said, most places we'd want to go would be Hyundai-friendly.

Lies!

Luckily, lies that save us a thousand bucks don't make me that angry. The flip side of having that money is that all roads on the map marked with an F were off limits. Driving on bumpy, chunky F-roads is totally normal, as is fording rivers in your vehicle. So if you want to get off the main road and don't know how to drive through a river, you might want to figure that out.

Matthew and I took a spontaneous right off Route 1 towards a sign for Mýrdalsjökull.



Within a few hundred yards I was weaving between large rocks and trenches and called a time out. "We need to look at a map and see if this is an F-road," I said. "It's fine," said Matthew, "I'm okay with getting out and pushing if we need to."

Sadly, I was not okay with this. There would be several kilometers of mystery road before we got to the ice cap and though we had extra travel car insurance for the trip I foresaw glacial rivers washing the Hyundai away, possibly with us inside. Maybe towards a waterfall, I don't know. This sort of mishap might take years to get funny and I wasn't in the mood to wait around for that kind of hindsight to kick in.

We backed the car up, did in fact see a 4x4 only sign, went back to the hotel and signed up for a tour with Mountain Guides.

day jammies

No, Reykjavik, I don't want to buy day jammies but thank you for offering.

fun fact: Iceland

They don't care about your stupid parking space.

I meant to make a whole photo portfolio of grievous Icelandic parking jobs but kept forgetting so am left with this ho-hum example:



Not great but not so shocking either.

Lonely Planet told me that Icelanders stop their cars and jump out when and where they feel like it. Matthew and I quickly complied to this national habit and made a point of parking crooked as much as possible.



The last time I parked like an a-hole was when Neil Rinden, Neil Wilson, Monica and I rented a van and drove to the Jelly Belly factory in Wisconsin.



What a rush, look how happy it made me!



I must be a real tight ass.

Sheep!

I'd seen plenty of sheep before: farms, Christmas manger scenes, England etc. And felt nothing. Zip.
So I was a little surprised last week when I lost it every time we passed sheep by the road in Iceland.



"Sheep!" I'd yell like a sugar-high kindergartner.

Their faces had become, overnight, charming. And then there are their butts.



You like? Here's five more.



I missed my dog and I think the sheep reminded me of her. I believe Freud would call this transference. Patsy, or Pants as I like to call her, is very funny and I imagined the sheep equally goofy. The ones that climbed high up the steepest rockiest hillsides were the renegades, the explorers who talked smack about the ones far below. They ate the best grass that the others were too afraid to reach.

When leaving Þingvellir, the outdoor site of Iceland's parliament for 900 years where they also held duels, executions by drowning, a festival, and marriages since it was a giant Viking mixer - the Rainbow Gathering of 950 AD - we saw sheep close up. We were walking to the car when Matthew went "Oh!" He fumbled with his jacket pocket which made me think we'd thought we'd locked the keys in the car and he was searching for them frantically. I briefly wondered where we were going to get a coat hanger out in the middle of nowhere when I turned my head and saw three sheep in our way. He was looking for his camera.

I could have stood there laughing long enough for us to actually miss our flight later that afternoon but the sheep were having none of it. They glanced at us and headed straight for the rocks to our left. They gave us a wide berth by climbing up the embankment until they were past us then hopped down, ran a good ten feet to put some distance between us and resumed walking, real calm and determined-like. 

"They snuck away from a farm," we decided, "They are in so much trouble right now."

Maybe they read, like us, that Þingvellir is also where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates are pulling apart, creating a narrow canyon, and wanted to check it out for themselves. Speaking of sneaking, I know, or strongly suspect, that this ladder is for humans, not sheep. How much would I give, however, to see the field emptied out by one sheep after another climbing up and down, out and away to explore like the ones we met on the path?