talialip-blog

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A little me time

The past few days I have been feeling a little off, and very homesick. It’s labor day weekend so I did a quick check to see if I could maybe find a cheap flight home. Of course, I am far too late to find anything cheap enough to warrant the flight. I looked at quick flights around the country - maybe Chicago? Seattle? I actually found something decent to MN and hit up Kohlman but he isn’t in town so I decided to look at something a little closer. I have been thinking about checking out Tunica Hills but haven’t found the time, so I figured this would be a good opportunity. It could be fun to do with someone else, but it would be a good way to kill two birds with one stone.  I did no research other than a quick google map time check to figure out what time to set my alarm in the morning. I noticed that the park was right behind Angola - the state penitentiary. Hmm, kinda glad I already decided against sleeping their for the night. Anyway, 2h30, perfect. I woke up at 5:30am to be on the road by 6am. I spent the morning listening to my favorite station, 98.5, which I love to sing along to. As I finally got out past Baton Rouge, I realized how quickly it turns rural. Like, immediately. Tons of cows,  I couldn’t have been happier. I finally pulled onto Tunica Hills road, and I saw a sign that said the road was still closed from the floods. I hadn’t even thought to check that out, not just in terms of getting to the park but if the park itself was flooded. Whoops! Continued through the detour and after squiggling through this tiny backroad and passing plenty of “KEEP OUT” signs, I finally got to a gravel road. I felt nervous a few times about the holes and mud, but I finally made it to a trailhead after about 15 minutes. Hopping out of the car, I saw a butterfly that I kid you not, had a wingspan of 7 inches. I ran over to the information sign and saw a map that meant nothing to me and a bunch of orange flags and orange gate signifying that this was trail C, the most challenging trail. Easy, just 3.6 miles, with some steep terrain. Just want I wanted, because that would mean I would find water! There was also a sign indicating that hunting season ran from October to February, with information about “bagging limits” and permits, and another sign that read something to the effect of, “HOGS LOOK LIKE BEARS. BEARS ARE ILLEGAL TO HUNT IN LOUISIANA.” Interesting. I suddenly wished I had a bright vest on to protect myself from sketchy backcountry hunters. I got started around the gate, practically galloping, and I instantly was bothered by how many spider webs I had to walk through to pass. Some of them were just fresh strings that made me jumpy, but others were castles, too beautiful to destroy, so I would have to do some fancy moves to get around them. I felt a little nervous that no one else had been through this way. I continued, riding on top of the ridge until hitting a hard right. The brush got much tighter for a bit, and then opened up to a steep trail, that would require almost 75% of butt-sliding action, since it was mostly wet and gravely. I got nervous at first, but just committed to worming my way down to see if the rest was worth doing. I made my way down (thinking back on the shame of riding down my butt at Canon under the chairlift) and finally saw where I was headed - about a 15 foot drop, with orange flags unmistakably confirming that I had to make that drop, into what seemed like either a natural  sewage outlet similar to Preston, or an animal hole. I poked around for a different route but realized this was my only option. I got as low as possible and leaped off. And! 

Instant wipe out. No problem! I looked around and now I’m in a dried up river bed. Sweet! Seem’s easy enough to follow. I get going again after wiping off some mud, and am taken by the sounds of the birds. I enjoy and continue through, doing some deep aerobic lunges and bends to get through all of the fallen trees. I realized I am definitely the only human to have passed through this area in a long time, probably months. That didn’t bother me much, as the path seemed pretty straightforward, and I didn’t mind army crawling

Then i noticed animal tracks. Some looked familiar - like bigger dog tracks. Some looked like big pig feet. Great! The hogs were real, and they had passed here recently, since the sand was still wet from the morning rain. I got kinda sketched out, and then I noticed the big daddies. Bear tracks. Huge. I was momentarily in awe, snapped some pics with my shoes for reference, and kept plugging. The trail was pretty fun, but there was the occasional unstable sand that brought me up to my ankles. I started to really feel like I was in the Valley of Fire from Princess and the Bridge. I tied my shoes tighter and kept chuggin, until I hit a series of fallen trees so dense that I decided the trail was over for my sake. I made my way back, enjoyed the ride, and finally made it back, panting and satisfied, wondering where I should head next.  I looked across from the parking lot and saw trail B. I skiddadled over there and started making my way in. Seems like this is the one that leads to the falls. I walk for about 10 minutes and i start looking at a sign. It is wrapped in metal cables. It warns that there are traps in the area to catch amphibeans and reptiles. It asks not to help any animals in the traps as they are being used for research. Wtf? That’s when I heard a light, non-bird crackle cracnkle ahead. I looked up only to see a full sized BEAR sitting up beside the natural steep ridge of trail. He’s pretty cute, licking his hands. I square my body out to look at him and he turns toward me, then leans forward where I can no longer see him. My heart is beating so fast that I am putting into practice the silent breathing exercises I thought about earlier when listening to birds. My hands started shaking so bad and I shot a text to Cara Palamino, who Kayla and I stayed with in Lake Tahoe, my only bear expert. Tried Christian as well. Wtf else do I do? Just walk away as quietly as possible. I got all the way back to the trailhead and realized i might have overreacted, and I was sort of intrigued, so I headed back in. I kept my eyes peeled, but didnt see him again. Everytime I saw something big and brown (often) my heart stopped, and eventually, I decided I had to get the fuck outta there. It was pretty cool seeing him! But again, happy I didnt spend the night.

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Heard track 4, Agorinha, at Mid City Pizza. Psyched to find this guy. Bringing baile funk to American mixes. Sweet.

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Alexis and the Samuri

I’ve been going through spells of inspiration lately. I’ve noticed it since school and never put the time into chasing that feeling, but now it seems to be coming regularly enough that I think I am doing something right. The skeptic in me thinks it might even be hormonal. 

I’ve been playing with this casual Samba band, Bloco Jacare, that plays out of Baton Rouge, who I got connected with after I spent a few months playing with Bloco Sereia out of New Orleans. It’s a pretty cute scene - mostly local ladies of different ages and levels of drum/Brazil knowledge coming together to bang on a drum and chat. It’s kind of far to drive, especially since the level of productivity and advancement is not what I’m used to, both with Green Envy and Tatubola. However, I totally don’t even put it in that category. It’s way more of a therapeutic zone out time, and a way to stay connected with Brazil. There are a few Brazilians that I get to chat in portuguese and revisit some fun times.  However casual this group is, it has led to some awesome doors. First, Paulo, this 40+ year old phd student in classical opera that I first played with at Bloco Sereia, mentioned he was starting a Bossa Nova group with Mariana, also Brazilian, and Ryan Murray, the leader of this group, who I also met at Muses practice. My ears instantly percked, and I talked to them at the Black Lives Matter event in BR about cool ways to go about arranging portuguese vs english lyrics in bossa nova songs. I told them I was interested in singing and they invited me to their next rehearsal. I am SUPER out of my league with them - Mariana is studying as a classical jazz violinist and the other guy is studying the standup base.  I love singing the bossa nova, it reminds me of the Jolene cover I did with Caue, and the attempted Nora Jones cover. But I suck with my drum!

The only problem is that my instrument is now this little snare. Everyone at the band knows me with that, AKA Ryan, and at Bossa nova I am expected to play first, and maybe sing once I get that down. Everyone is super understanding that it’s all new to me, but it’s super frustrating not being able to just do it. I need to practice. I have known I need to practice but I just don’t feel like this is my instrument.  I remember staring at Minelli’s hands for 5 months playing the segunda, and respecting the shit out of Carol Kise with her fat primeira. I basically memorized all of their parts, because I used them to que everything. It looks so satisfying to smash those drums.  At the last Samba rehearsal, I got to use one of the brand new surdos. By the end of the first repetition I test drove, my body was vibrating so much I couldn’t see. I was intoxicated. We played for about 20 minutes like that and I literally snapped at Ryan when he ended this exercise. Back to my caixa. I’m feeling better on the caixa for sure, and I do want to get the hang of it, but it certainly doesn’t come naturally. 

Anyways, Saturday, I went to Baton Rouge with this dude Andrei. I knew him from Sereia, he is really fucking good. He is a boat welder from Estonia, and he has lived an awesome life of traveling around and playing music and welding shit. I need to stop sending him exclamation points. Is that racist? When I got to his house to pick him up, I waited outside for a while, and he eventually woke up and told me we’d leave in 30 minutes, after running back upstairs. I poked around his den, which was a soundproofed room filled with a drum kit, guitars, hand drums, lone metal chairs, broken music stands, and a scribbled yet recently updated whiteboard. He put me in a corner with a djembe, I thought in an effort to keep me entertained outside outside of the fragile room while he got himself together. Good tactic - little did he know I REALLY would love to bang on that thing! Then he said to me, “I remembered you said you wanted to learn the hand drum - feel free to borrow this one for a few weeks.” He brought over the case. My heart jumped - this thing costs at least $175. As I am writing this I remembered that he offered to sell me a drum when we had that conversation, and I was scared away by the price. Maybe this is just a great sales tactic. Anyway, we went to the house, spent the day chatting and gutting and sweating. Finished it off in the living room, sitting on lawn chairs, sipping a sweet beer. Jodi (Jacare)’s brother, the nervous victim of the flooding, handed over the money is uncontrollable but well intentioned father gave him to give to use. Seemed like a day I really needed. I thought on the street car today that I need to use that money for something. Whether it’s for the flood efforts or for some other method, I will have to see what I come up with. 

Anyway, Andrei brought up that he is going to be drumming at the Mid summer mardi gras. I am definitely hoping to go. Great opportunity to work on improvising and feeling out my instrument. It’s possible that samba is just too damn fast. 

I feel so excited to have this djembe. I feel like its my first chance to explore something that might actually come naturally (ish) to me. I feel like it could be possible to play it and feel like I am dancing at a warm up grenvy dance off, just beating on a djembe instead of the air. Once I get a feel for the pitches and style of hitting the drum, I can freestyle the way I used to on Fred’s back. MY END GOAL. To be able to sing and drum, together. Never a kit - but just repetitive, possibly one handed things. Shakers. Tamborine. Djembe. While I sing! This will allow me to express myself in a whole new way, I think. But I am totally not close to being there. Which brings me to tonight.  

I looked at the music schedule today and saw that this chick was playing at Chickie wah wah. Julia and her friend were talking about the band the other day, and I assumed they sucked because those girls kind of sucked. The minute we walked into the bar, I KNEW I was going to be sucked in. It was a man and a woman on stage, and their harmonies pulled me far out of socializing with Kate at the bar mode and right into inspired. They initially reminded me of civil wars - except he was a bit more Ben Folds and she was a bit more Florence, yet somehow norah jones. and a bit of sara bareilles. She looked amazing - strong, wearing a sexy green turtle neck tank top and great hair. She looked kind of like that girl Annie at Tulane, with red hair, who worked at WTUL. He was a tall, skinny, big curly hair. Looked like a mix of Jamie Hark, Howard Stern, and sideshow Bob (shout out to chvany’s cool ass student.) I was so hooked. The music was sweet. Stemming from a civil wars influence, I would get a little bit of Alt-J, some folk influence, and just straight up musicians - made some sarcastic musical jokes that made me feel like they were communicating directly to me. The were the coolest vibe, exactly what I have been looking for in my own inspiration. What I felt with Alex I feel stimulated me in a similar way, but that has really fizzled. I hope we both take some time and then come back together, and i can be confident enough to do so.  What I realized at this show is that I want to invest in this drum passion, with the thing I have the hardest time with - Time. I need to practice everyday. I am going to aim to get an hour in every day. I might be able to do it in the back yard if I keep getting home when it’s light. I am worried about waking the house up. But I also realized that I want to do this in a big way. After my time in Baton rouge, I realized that I want to definitely take some time off to do some physical labor. I don’t know what type or where that will be, but I think after Lucid, I want to take a year to do that. And today, at this show, I realized I could completely plan this around the drumming. If I get some basic skills down, enough to play and sing some basic stuff at the same time, that’s enough for me to find day labor wherever, maybe find a metropolitan work opportunity, and find some drum folks. I want to do it with no deadline, but a minimum line. Andrei got me hyped on Australia, but I want to research drum circles and communities where I would be able to learn, while I am getting my ass beat during the day.  for now I need to practice! Everyday! For an hour! 

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This guy. Want this all over me.

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Really interesting application of consumer driven ideation, and a well timed attention grab for Ikea.

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Love this vibe, could listen on repeat at a late summer bbq with the people I love. I’ll try to make that happen.

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I just spent a long weekend at a friend’s house in Riviera de São Lourenço on the northern coast of São Paulo. It was a good time - this was the song of the weekend. The shallower it grows...

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This throws together alotta things I like.

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I am 4,684 miles away from one of my NOLA roommates and I saw her listening to Leon Bridges on Spotify. I clicked and I’m instantly home. Feel like I’ve been listening to him for years, on the couch next to Lyd and the rest of my crew. Beautiful moment of connectivity, thanks to music and technology. I am totally indoctrinated by my work with RRA’s digital transformation practice right now, but I can’t get enough of this whole digital revolution thing! 

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Went to an event from this cool project, Jazz na Kombi. Check them out, they travel around in this old VW van (the Kombi - delivery van). Felt like NOLA! 

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This is my new fantasy.

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Great way to start the morning, can almost feel those sun rays on my face.

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A feira itinerante para pequenos empreendedores acontece neste sábado na capital.

Hoping to make it to this 'pop-up' market tomorrow. Music, crafts, food, and electronic music production lessons? Bacana.

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This badass puertoriqueña from the Bronx and sponsored by Pharrel learned the portuguese for this recording in one day. Filmed in the favelas of Rio, the song was used in the movie Trash about some kids in Rio who get into trouble when they find an important wallet in the trash.

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Can't get enough Abby Diamond... keep 'em coming please.

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15 Minute Documentary on Origins of Hip Hop in São Paulo