#I’m thoroughly ready to die thanks Neil

[justjaymi]

Fuck you, fuck me & fuck everything that ever has been and ever will be

[chakazard]

Where was an intermission and I want my money back

Amanda Palmer is one of those artists, like Henry Rollins and Roger Waters, that I feel oddly protective of. Like every time any one of them are criticized I feel like I have to like them more to make up for it. I mean these are people who are at times, in ways, a lot closer to who I'd like to be than I am. So if people don't like the real thing (and I am aware there are plenty who don't), how could anyone like the cheapest possible imitation of someone else's low-res copy?

I was already going to her performance at the Beacon Theatre tonight when I got word she was doing some kind of meet up beforehand and I thought I would try to make it. So I get changed and head out and pop the album on and wouldn't you know, I get on the Wantagh Parkway as she sang "everyone you love is gonna die" (as I've said before, every song on her new record is a Tear Jerker and that is exactly why I love it) and as that line hit, directly to my left was the corpse of a cat. Of course. Of corpse. Life is both too obvious and in too bad taste to make it successful as fiction. When I got to the train station I realized that, in my rush to get out, I had neglected to bring my wallet. Oops. Thankfully you can buy LIRR tickets online these days and I had my phone. And then I missed the meetup. But at least the baby didn't die? And I ran into someone I know (hi Nico!) on the line into the venue so that eased my mind a bunch. Really enjoyed that the pre show music included Oh Bondage! Up Yours by the X-Ray Spex and by the time Neil Gaiman gave the spoken introduction I was thoroughly Ready To Rock And Also Cry A Lot.

Amanda wasted no time in justifying my affinity for her, talking about how her stepfather would accuse her of banging on the piano and not making real music, and the therapeutic powers of playing loudly and angrily. (I was classically trained but I am very out of practice and low on discipline and attention spans so I mostly just bang loudly and angrily when I do get to play. Maybe explaining why the cat hates it and knocks down all the markers and knick knacks he can find before I can even get to the chorus). Her show was more of a one-woman play interspersed with songs than a rock show and it was, like the album, Extremely My Shit. Theatrical, scripted but in a way to make it sound natural, extremely personal, diving deep into extremely dark emotions and finding the light in them. I thought it was absolutely brilliant and I'm so glad I made it.

From where I was sitting, the audience seemed completely focused on the performance. I closed my eyes during a few songs to focus better on the lyrics. Machete was the highlight for me, even (or especially) when she mixed up the words, and the sound near the end of it that I thought was someone eating popcorn turned out to be a professional camera. Also, Disney songs repurposed to represent abortion and miscarriage for fun and profit?

Between her speeches and songs I kept being brought back to things that have been kicking around my head but haven't had the right moment or the guts to articulate. Excuse me if this is less of a review of her performance (I laughed, I cried, I met up with a friend I hadn't seen in about a decade and braved an Extreme Obstacle Course so I could catch up with her while she smoked during the untitular intermission (Hi Michelle!)) and more of a check in to put that stuff down here and now.

On anger. I was an extremely angry person for many years. I don't know if you become obsessed with Henry Rollins and Roger Waters if you're not. But I get told a lot by people I don't know well that I don't seem like I ever get angry. I guess from the outside being frozen by fear looks a lot like calm peacefulness. Then I'll hear it from family members and I feel like I'm not actually being seen, and maybe that's my fault. How can I deal with expectations I know I will never live up to? I thought a lot about different human connections and missed chances. How I have family members I never got a chance to get close with and if I'd be able to if I tried, and how life will develop now that my family has a new generation. When she talked about grief I thought about my friend who died (I am lucky to only have one) and how I feel like I never really processed it and feel guilty that we lost touch before she checked out. How my best friend has been sick for years and spent months out of the country with little contact and i would get scared if I didn't see her active on spacebook for a few days. How I have friends in the city I would like to have excuses to get in touch with more regularly but probably won't and hope they forgive me, friends who live elsewhere that I hope aren't insulted if i don't visit, friends on the internet I'm still scared would lose interest in me if we ever met in real life and wondering if the fear has subconsciously kept me from trying. When she talked, a few times, about radical compassion and justice and privelage, it made me frustrated that the hardest thing for me to talk about is my political philosophy, which is deeply rooted in the idea that every person deserves respect and compassion (and basic necessities of living) and how silly it seems that I'm afraid to come out and say that, much less act on it, because it might make someone mad at me, or worse, laugh. How there are so many truths that we don't get taught or lied to about or feel like we are forbidden to talk about and I need to start making a real list so I can at least try to pass them on. How impossible it is to write when you are dealing with depression because "you just want to feel pain" which explains why I didn't write for so many years.

A few days ago I said "I can be so very bright if I'm permitted to be made of darkness" and she kept repeating that her job as an artist is to bring people as far into the darkness as they will allow before catapulting them back into the light.

Again, this show probably wasn't for everyone but it was very much for me. So I left with the desire to make more art, even if I'm not sure what form it should take and still have very little self confidence. And support more artists, and try to speak up when I appreciate things more and not assume my opinion won't be well received. I left with a lot I'd like to say. I am honest about how bad I am at taking compliments but I'm afraid I'm even worse at giving them so I don't think I've ever adequately explained how important people are to me. I want to tell people I'd like to see them more often but time and geography and mental stuff get in the way and hope that it's understood. I want to reexamine how many of the bad things I think about myself are just excuses because I'm scared of failure or rejection but trying is the point of life so don't stop trying. So I'm going to keep talking and writing weird stuff and looking for the cracks and inversions where I can find beauty or recognition. My instinct is to say I'm going to be more insufferable, but this is an assumption and not an experience. I find that I get better responses when I do talk honestly about anything and nobody has actually told me that it's insufferable. I get really happy when I see someone else shed their preconcieved imitation skin and inhabit whatever shape resonates with them at the moment. And when people are happy and in their element and it shows, even if that element is not mine. So maybe I don't need to feel like I can't try to do the same for myself. And I feel like I talk about myself too much, especially in a post like this that's supposed to be about someone else's art, but there is literally no other Chaka in the world and if I want to see these ideas expressed then nobody else is going to do it and what have I always felt like I was breaking a ton of rules for trying to do that?

I took a Lyft back to Penn Station because you can use PayPal for those and am now looking forward to next week's entry in my bluntly honest confessional would-make-some-uncomfortable Rock n Roll tour with Fat Mike as Cokie the Clown, which I need to keep typing so my phone stops trying to autocorrect to Cookie.

In conclusion, thank you Amanda Palmer for your amazing performance and not only because it made me do my favorite thing and get introspective and over emotional.

[travellikestardust]

So, only a few days ago I finally finished my final year in college. What is an achievement for anyone, was a particularly big deal to me, as not only did I nearly quit countless times, but I barely even thought I’d be alive at this point.

I do feel that my college experience was especially tumultuous, but maybe I am just being self-centered with that mindset. However, the past few days and weeks I have found myself reflecting on the past four years, and to that I felt that the best way to process each individual year would be to write about it.

Before college even began, I experienced one of the most, if not the most, traumatic thing in my life which was watching dad die. Not something I will get into now, if ever, but it’s not something I wish on anyone to see.

That really had a major impact on me and especially on my mental health, which I am still trying to process, nearly four years later. It was a turning point in my life. And in the midst of that, I was finishing the Leaving Cert, waiting on results and desperately not wanting to go to college in September.

As the weeks flew by, I struggled to leave my house without having some sort of a breakdown or panic attack. It was a very dark point in my life, and I really struggled with coping.

From there, I began college, which was by far as easy task for anyone. But bare in mind, I was having panic attacks on a very regular basis, and held back tears for a lot of that first year. I was also incredibly shy, but in saying all that, I did enjoy making our terrible little productions and learning all these new skills.

To help me get by, I began taking anti-depressants, and was seeing my doctor on a regular enough basis. I went to a therapist, I was seeing a psychiatrist on occassion. All of this was to help me get back on my feet. Which to a point, I did, but if we’re being honest, I am still trying to this day to be 100% okay again.

First year of college, I was vulnerable. I was shy. And I was afraid. Even just to send a message in our groupchat was taxing for me. My heart would race and I’d start overthinking every character of the message.

When I think back to that first year, I see a lot of grey. I was unhappy. But I persevered.

My smiling angel.

Towards the end of the year, I somehow managed to convince my mam that we should get a dog. Both of us needed something to brighten our darkness, and I still thoroughly believe it was our greatest decision.

When Emmers entered our life, she was anxious and afraid too. She had a trauma and had gone through a lot in her past year, much like us. It was and still is an absolute treasure to me to see her develop from being so scared and nervous, to becoming this genuine ray of light who licks away the tears when I cry. Or who cuddles into me to cheer me up. Who just wants someone to look after her, play with her, and show her that there’s not just bad out in the world.

I’ll never forget that day that we naively walked into Dog’s Trust’s rehoming centre in Finglas, and didn’t realise that our lives were about to be changed for the better.

As well as as Emmers, I also managed to meet some people who changed my life around aswell. Namely, Amelia and Andrew. Some of the sweetest people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and are still my amazingly close friends of this day. So just a lil thank you to them for being so kind and wonderful!

The second year without Dad turned out to be ever more challenging, as I’ve learnt that the first is when your trying to come to terms with what has happened, and the second is when you realise that they’re actually gone. On top of this, my aunt also died and we were pretty damn close. So that hit me very hard.

I hated every second of college. It was as though I had gone backwards ten steps. I was back to not coping at all. Panic attacks, breakdowns, they had all become so part of the routine that I even found my own little spot in the college to cry and be alone. It was the one place I felt I was able to collect my thoughts and breathe again.

That year was definitely the darkest in my life. I felt thoroughly alone. I was anxious, depressed and suicidal. I still don’t understand how I managed to finish college that year. I was ready to drop out so many times. Thankfully, I had an understanding lecturer who was there for me, listened to me and encouraged me to stay.

Of course, I had good days too. I was lucky enough to travel to Amsterdam with my friend, Grace, as well as Brussels with Mam. Grace is the most enjoyable company, its so easy to feel relaxed around her. And then for me and mam, I think we just really need these little breakaways to enjoy eachothers company without the stress or memories around home. Looking back, I think I just needed some excuse to get away from college.

But in saying all that, I do also think a lot of my ‘happiness’ at the time was more so masking than anything else. While first year was grey, second year was pure blackness.

Unfortunately, I ended up to the point where Pieta House was involved. But, they were nothing short of amazing. My therapist there was outstanding and patient and kind. I still have his words ring through my mind when I find myself struggling again. I will never be able to thank him enough for all that he did for me.

Cliffs of Moher

The summer before third year was pretty wild in all fairness. Some of my family came over from Spain, which is probably when I’m at my most content. We went around Ireland, showing them, Glendalough, the Cliff’s of Moher, Galway, Dublin, and everywhere in between.

This summer there was a crazy heatwave and so thankfully for them we were able to show them how beautiful Ireland can be when it’s not covered in rain.

Inbetween travelling the country with them, I was also working four jobs. The local cinema, a promotions company, an online travel company, and as a ghost writer. All of this was to ensure I had enough money to travel for a month across Europe, through Interrail.

Unfortunately, another death of a close family member occurred, but I was determined to not be set backwards again.

We left to go travelling on the 29th of July, and I returned one month later on the 29th of August. What an experience! By far, this was one of the highlights of the past four years. We started in Paris, then went to Amsterdam, Berlin, Prague, Karków, Budapest, Split, and afterwards, I flew to Barcelona to spend a week with the family. It was just amazing. Something I will never forget, and that’s for sure.

By the time I was back in Ireland, third year of college had just rolled around. Although I had struggled so much the year prior, after enough deliberating, I decided to take this new year by the horns and move to the college’s town.

This was a pretty major feat seeing as at least when I was struggling the year prior, I was always able to at least go home and see Emmers. This year however, I was jumping straight into this enviroment. It was scary, especially for me to have so much extra time alone with my thoughts. But ultimately, I feel like it was the right decision.

For the first while, I was even living right around the corner from Amelia, which was amazing! She was a great support system to have so closeby, and I still cherish the evenings spent drinking wine and playing with her beautiful dog until all hours.

On set with Neil and our new friend for our third year music video!

In regards to my own course, I really tried to socialise as much as possible. Third year really sealed my friendship with Neil, who is one of the kindest souls. He was, and still is, my closest friend.

As tough going as I found it, I really did try to socialise as best as I could. And looking back, I do think I did a decent enough job at it. No matter how much I was dying on the inside, I always pushed myself to be more outgoing and personable. I think, in a retrospect, I would have to say that I am quite proud of myself, for persevering.

It was also in third year that I managed to truly reconnect with my best friend from our school days, Caoimhe. That was a comforting experience to bring back the familiarity and ease of our relationship along with the inside jokes that stem back to being fourteen years old again in some class that we didn’t care about, just wanting to have a laugh.

Third year was definitely different the the other two years as I really just wanted to finally experience college and not struggle. And to do that I pretty much decided to ignore my problems, which is probably (definitely!) not healthy, but one way or another, it seemed to work. I even stopped taking my anti-depressants towards the end of the year.

[Sidenote: never do what I did and just stop taking them. I ended up with the world spinning and a constant nausea for weeks as I didn’t wean myself off them. And from what I’ve learnt, they were lucky side effects, apparently it can be a lot worse.]

By the end of third year, I finally felt more at peace. For the first time in a long while.

For the summer before forth year, I mainly worked, but also made sure to spend as much time with my friends as possible.

Of course, to keep things on theme, there was yet another death in the family, which, once again, hit me hard. This time it was my close uncle, who not only looked a lot like dad, but also died of a similar illness just the week before his anniversary. And as it was Spain, in the midst of summer, I wasn’t able to get a flight to say goodbye. That hurt.

Thankfully I was surrounded by wonderful friends. Andrew who came over and brought me flowers the day it happened, and just chilled and watched crap with me while I was sad. Then, Amelia, who went to the effort of getting me a plain balloon and marker and bringing out to somewhere quiet, to let me write one last message to my uncle. Bare in mind, it was even her birthday! I was blessed.

I’m not sure if it was his death or what, but very shortly after it was as though a switch was flicked in my brain and I developed chronic insomnia. What made it even weirder, was the fact that up to this point, I was an incredibly sleepy person, who could have literally slept anywhere, anytime.

This had a major impact on my mental health. Absolutely no sleep for days and weeks on end was rough. I was back to crying and not being able to cope. My doctor ended up prescibing me anti-depressants again, but I couldn’t bring myself to take them. I refused to need them.

I felt particularly bad for Amelia who I ended up going away with at the time. Although it was a wonderful holiday, the lack of sleep meant I was short on energy, and was also tossing and turning throughout the nights, more than likely keeping her up, although she would deny it.

Similarly, I went to Spain at the end of August, and definitely kept my poor cousin up every other night.

Even though I had a lovely end to third year, I found myself stressing about the return to final year. I had moved into a new flat, that I liked quite a bit, and decided to give it a go. My motivation was that if I really wasn’t happy, I would just leave college, once and for all.

While those thoughts were floating through my mind, my grandad also wound up quite sick, and it was pretty not good there for a while. He was eventually put into a home, with the anticipation that he would be made comfortable, and that not much else could be done for him.

Grandad & I around November

BUT my strong lol grandad, made such a recovery! He was put into the home around late September/ early October, and he is still going! He is currently better than ever, being super well looked after in an amazing nursing home.

Now, as far as a year in education goes, it was fairly disasterous. A lecturer that we were supposed to have for two modules was on maternity leave, and her replacement cancelled the first few lectures we were supposed to have, before finally quitting. We never even met her. It was as though this was an omen for what was to come. Every week, we would all hope for a full week, but, ultimately, we were always let down. The first three months ended up having more cancelled classes than actual classes.

By the time we ended up having the lecturer replaced, and finally full weeks of classes, it was just about Christmas.

We broke away for the New Year, with the anticipation of a much improved new semester awaiting us.

As for Christmas break, my friends from school and I decided we were in desperate need of a group holiday, and so we planned a trip to Edinburgh for a few days. This was the loveliest little holiday! Hot chocolate, great food and nearly all of us got a new peircing! (Which, is a blog in itself!).

Now, although this was a wonderful memory, Christmas just gone also meant my best friend moving away, which was heartbreaking.

The group of us organised a surprise meal and drinks for Amelia before she left. But its definitely strange not having her so close by anymore.

When we finally got around to going back to college, it went surprisingly well at first. No cancelled classes, assignments weren’t crazy. All was good.

Until, of course, Covid-19 turned into a pandemic and the world pretty much shut down. But, of course, we all know about that.

As I currently stand, I am surprisingly sad to have finished college, especially in such extraordinary circumstances. I’m also excited to begin this new, hopefully brighter, chapter in my life.

Forth year was most definitely a blink and you miss it kind of experience. It was memorable though. I finally felt as though I was content.

Over the past few years, I have made lasting friendships with spectacular people, however I’ve lost friends some along the way, some are probably for the best, but others I miss dearly.

It’s been quite a journey. As I said at the beginning, I shocked I’m even here. It’s been remarkable.

Memorable for sure.

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College Days So, only a few days ago I finally finished my final year in college. What is an achievement for anyone, was a particularly big deal to me, as not only did I nearly quit countless times, but I barely even thought I'd be alive at this point.

[becauseiamnotanelephant]

Day 21: Swimming, old friends, good music, and tasty food

Mornings with two kids, a dad who is up early helping get ready and making coffee,  and a mom who is on maternity leave yields a very different morning routine than I'm accustomed to.  But my to-do list is so stress-free here that I don't mind at all the variation and slower pace in which things happen. Breakfast, playing, negotiations, getting dressed, deciding biking or scootering to school, which shoes to wear - a lot happens before 8:30 am. After the school stop off, Khuema walked me over to their friend's house so I could pick up her bike and borrow it this weekend. England countryside is green and lush but I never expected to see a garden in London growing apples, herbs, nasturtium, bay leaves, chili peppers and more. It was impressive.

With a bike in my hands for tomorrow, I was off to start my day. The first stop was the Olympic park for a swim at the Olympic swim center. The competition pool is massive and although I doubted how cool it would be to swim here, it was pretty awesome. My public pools have all been kicked down a notch. And even the locker rooms were an experience. Raise your hand if you've ever been to a locker room that isn't separated by gender. This, along with the lack of waivers to sign, were clear indication that I'm not in Kansas anymore. The locker rooms are for everyone, and there are just small cubbies for changing. It's kind of cool, actually.

With a decent swim under my belt, I navigated on two trains and in a new neighborhood to meet Ewan for lunch. Thanks to meeting Andrea during freshman year at Berkeley, her marrying Khuzema, him knowing Jack, who planned a bike trip in 2012 from London to Barcelona, Andrea and Khuzema thinking to invite me on the ride, me coming, I got to meet Ewan, along with all Neil, Tom, Franck, Anthony, Jack, and the brothers Dent, forming the original badass crew that navigated across the continent before the time that garmins were really a thing, and sustaining on the strict diet of tuna sandwiches, peanuts, bananas, and sarcasm by our esteemed driver who is going to kill me because at this moment I can only remember his husband's name, Craig.

Anyway, while we were a fun group, only some of us returned for the second epic trip to Florence, during which Khuzema, Ewan, Tom, Neil, and I spent most of our riding and eating hours together and formed some solid friendships. So when I come to London, I try to see who I can see. This time around, things were more complicated, so I ended up just meeting Ewan for lunch, but it's always a pleasure spending time with him and catching up. It's hard to think of better company.

After a lovely lunch and motivational words to stop checking email and just delete all emails that I get during my sabbatical, I was off to the Victoria and Albert museum, one that I enjoy for its structure and contents.

Todays goal was to check out the Pink Floyd exhibit. By no means am I a die hard fan, but I thoroughly enjoy their most famous albums, used to listen to them on my walkman on my front porch during summer thunderstorms, and watched The Wizard of Oz while playing the Dark Side of the Moon, so that's not bad. The early days of the band were unknown to me, so that part of the exhibit was interesting. Like, in 1971, they had an anti-woodstock concert in the roman ruins in Pompei, playing for an empty amphitheater, and in the same year played at SUNY Stonybrook. I'm not sure whats more surprising about that concert line up.

Once we got into the three most popular albums, thats when it got really good.

Dark Side was obviously what transformed them into a popular band, and thats largely attributed to their collaboration on that album, which was about everyday problems of modern life. The best part about the feature on this album however was that above and beyond the band's collaboration, each member of the band was like an innovator in their respective areas. Musical lyrics are less important to me, but how Waters decided what to include as subjects for each of the songs, was interesting. The way the music was developed was more so. The way they experimented with synthesizers, playback, special guitar amps, using piano chords inspired by Miles Davis...so much cool stuff going on behind the scenes that you don't realize as you listen to the album.

And then on top of that, there was the whole performance aspect of their music. The graphic design of their covers, which were innovative for their time, the screens playing videos, which they apparently incorporated into their live shows since nearly the start of the band, and the detail and choreography that went into the lighting and special effects at the live shows. One guy spent much of his time experimenting with smoke machines, understood all the science behind how the lights worked, snd ended up having eight people doing special effects, effectively his own little band to conduct.

It was a great exhibit, and ended in a large room with music and videos playing. In a room of 100 people, I'm the only one singing along to Comfortably Numb. Riddle me that.

I met up with Andrea and Khuzema and the kids for dinner at a tasty italian place, where it turns out the owner is from Bari and gave me a list of all the places I should go when I'm in Puglia. He left Bari off that list...suspiciously.