The Year of the LBD in the darkroom.

Ooh la la. That title shrung the inside of my head when I typed it. Scandalous, non? I am hopeful for scandal this year. I have experienced the bad kind, but not enough of the healthy kind.

Dear wind, send it.
Please.

Part. A.


I'm up in the woods
I'm down on my mind
I'm holding a still
To slow down time.



I'm up in the woods
I'm down on my mind
I'm holding a still
To slow down time.



I'm up in the woods
I'm down on my mind
I'm holding a still
To slow down time.


I sat wrapped in a blanket in my home, wearing a ski suit and a bandana (I am in a very strange clothing phase right now) listening to the vinyl that Tiff lent me this afternoon. Bon Iver's Bloodbank, Junior Boys, Do Make Say Think, Cat Stevens (an album I do not own and had never heard--I forget which one) and a handful of others that I normally wouldn't think to buy when I go to the music store to peruse vinyl. Thanks girl, you have great taste. Anyway, I was sitting and my ears pricked up when I heard those lyrics. The song is those four lines over and over but every verse is built up with another harmonic voice. The voice behind Bon Iver (Good Winter) is achingly pretty, masculine but still pretty and all of his music is especially winter-appropriate. I listen to him year round, but I appreciate him most in the dark of winter. Always. The song Woods (the four lined tune) has a Kaynesque twist that is also done achingly well. When I listen to Bon Iver the world quietens, lights dim and blur and my ears are open only to that man's voice. There are not many other albums that do that for me. Three shows that changed my musical life were Sigur Ros (I stood slack jawed with awe clutching my heart for the entirety. It was epic on every level. Even the opening act was epic), Jose Gonzalez (I sat in the Park Theater clutching Rebecca's hand while open-mouth weeping. Haha. I think she was doing the exact same thing. Insanity), and Bonnie Prince Billy (he sang me to sleep [standing UP]; enough said).

Anyway, those Bon Iver lyrics planted themselves in my head this night and for good reason. Tomorrow I am going up and into the woods, to a Mom+Dad cabin filled to the brim with musical instruments, lovely people, good wine, good cheese, a laden dinner table and a dock outside. Perfect. I jumped at the chance to skip out on this year's New Years party roster. I do have one hell of a dress hanging in my closet though. Shoot. It probably doesn't fit anymore anyway (I bought it during an over-zealous/gladiator-body/fliffing-cash high a week after arriving back from the bush). I saw it and whispered "that's the one" in Club Monaco. Maybe 2009 was not the year of the dress. Maybe 2010 will be the year of the LBD, maybe not.

Maybe this will be The Year of the Darkroom. That would be awesome. Everyday for the past few months, I have willed a darkroom into my life. That must read oddly. Whatever. I am feeling pretty confident and hopeful and antsy with anticipation about the whole thing. It sort of feels like a test for the Universe and I am at the controls (sort of). I love social experiments too these days. Regardless of whatever happens with this dream darkroom, it is nice to feel excited and hopeful about art again. A new kind of art. An complimentary skill of a skill that I am already in love with. I felt the same way just before trying silkscreen for the first time. Maybe it is silly, but a darkroom in my home just makes sense. I will keep you.

To all of you who took time this year to read my rambling words, thank you. I appreciate you and cannot believe you come back to this. Thank you for that. To all you steppers out there lookin' sharp, I wish you a happy turn of the new year. Scandalous things can happen at the turn, be open and careful. As for me, I will be up to my knees in snow in the woods, playing, drinking nice wine and Belgian beer, laughing my head off with my friends.

Happy New year, dear people.

Love, Meg.