Monday, September 04, 2006

the condition of the bride

sleepless, mindless, on a plane from manchester to munich after three nights off in leeds.

disrupting the pattern of touring is heartbreaking, Real Life shoves itself in my face like a battering ram, and everything real looks so unreal, so untouchable, every common, mundane object takes on some sort of sacred quality.
i suppose disrupting the pattern of life is heartbreaking for anyone. maybe enlightening, always bizarre. there it is, everything you've gotten used to in stark relief to something else. look! you're tired! look! you're homesick! ha! thought you'd gotten used to that, no? look! you haven't been falling in love very much. i'm not homesick. it could be anybody's home...anywhere but here. right?

right. it's most fulfilling when i'm off on my own, the crew and the touring machine a distant nightmare, some life i try to forget i have. there are no airports, there is no soundcheck. i have no voice to lose, nobody to be. i think i'm permanently motion sick. going at a pace too fast for any amanda human. i know i sound like a broken record. i know. i know. i know. i know.

we finished the reading festival and the rest of the crew pushed on to munich via london for the time off. i got in a car that took me to a train that took me to a station in leeds, where ricky picked me up. i spent most of the next 24 hours in bed. new sheets. new house. new bed. he just moved in. it's beautiful. the house is on a quiet cobbled lane and the first morning i floated myself down to the cafe. everything was made of stone, dark, wet brick walls lined every street, covered in thick vines that caught the light. walked down the sidewalks with my eyes half closed. i'm in england...remind yourself, i'm in england and i'm freeeeee. i ran my hand against the walls and tried to walk without looking, dragging the roughness under my fingers, trying to pretend that i had recently had a near-death experience. i tried to imagine what it would be like to just be laying there, under the wheels of that drunken car. or in that bloody hospital bed with the beeep beeep beeeeeep getting more frightening. and thinking: oh what i wouldn't give for morning. roughness. walking. eyes closed. brick wall. fingers. now.....look you're alive.

in leeds, it rains for a few minutes and then it's blazing sunshine. then it pours again. people seem to be used to this. it's like boston weather on permanent times six fast-forward. the rain puddles and reflects the light and everything is always shining. i went outside yesterday to see what the weather was like and lay down in the grass where the shade from a big wall of trees met the sun. i decided to stay there. the dirt and the cut grass smelled wonderful and i was reminded that i never touch the ground anymore, barely ever see it. much less smell it. there's always something paved in the way. i used to grow out of the sidewalk.

the weekend before we left for tour, i went to harvard square and did the bride. it feels odd needing to explain what that means. everybody who knows me knows. for five or six years, before the band broke and we went off on endless touring, this was how i made most of my money. for a good part of the year i would work up to 4 or 5 days a week, doing 3 or 4 performances a day for an hour and a half each, totally exhausting myself. i always wanted to write a book about it. there's a booksworth in it. i was a living statue, a street performer, standing on a hidden pedestal wearing a wedding gown with my face painted white and every other inch of my skin covered with gloves and tulle. i would stand there, completely motionless and holding a bouquet of white daisy poms, until some passerby dropped money into a box at my feet. then i would come to life and share a short moment with the person who had set me free. i would give them a flower, sometimes a kiss to go along with it. i made, on average, forty dollars an hour. sometimes much more. sometimes much less. some people tossed in pennies. some people tossed in twenties. i was an art stripper. it was the most extraordinary job. i loved it with everything i had. i hated it sometimes. i dealt with the most obnoxious street scum assholes berating me (get a fucking job you whore) and encountered the most profound artists and poets (you have changed my life today), who would sometimes sit for hours and sketch, write poems about the bride and the crowd, young romantic boys and girls who would stop and stay, let themsleves fall in love with a stranger. i often fell in love back. then they'd leave.

a few blocks along the wall, then in the cafe, i sat down for a green tea and took out my journal. oh a little piece of paradise. one thing i love so much about england is the standard quality of music, everywhere. people sing on the train (probably because people also drink on the train), typically trashy bars play incredible songs. the leeds shopping mall was blasting radiohead. the cafe was playing the white stripes. the owner came over and sat down next to me. i ordered eggs. sat and wrote and waited and soaked it up like a sponge. i live for these moments that cost me nothing. for just a few cents a day - the cost of a cup of coffee - you can save a starving rock star. won't you please consider donating? by now i'm in hamburg, sitting at another one. the music here is terrible. there's soccer fever in the air. there's loud americans at the next table. no ground left to see, back in the grind but there's such a bright light at the end of the tunnel. i forget what it's like to like people sometimes.

children would be terrified or enraptured. countless marriage proposals. lots of tears. lots of screams of o-my-god-it's-real-you-scared-the-shit-out-of-me. i was free to fixate my gaze on anybody or anything i wanted, and it was perfectly acceptable. nobody looked away. they would stare right back. i would play games like this with people for stretches of up to five minutes. daring people. people would tease me, taunt me, poke me, try to make me laugh. tell me to get a fucking job. i earn more than you, fucker, i would always want to say to the meatheads who yelled that at me. and i'm doing more. when was the last time you made somebody fucking happy, you fucking twit?? who'd have guessed that under my mona lisa smile and longing eyes was a complete bitch. some days. not all days. not most days. most days i would just let it all slide off, let my heart surge with love when the harvard professors would stop and stare, and stay. sometimes i would put poems down at my feet. shakespeare. keats. most people didn't read it. but the ones who did...they did.

i've decided that what i like most in life isn't as obvious as singing or performing or writing. i think i've come to realize that my true passion is for surprising people. that's it. that's all. really. truly. one person, thousands of people. kin dof doesn't matter. the bride was very handy for this.

i traveled with her sometimes, packed up my box with wheels and did the bride in florida, LA, vegas, germany, australia. it was surprising how similar groups of people are all over the world. the same patterns. the same types. the stories and pieces of paper i collected could fill a two volume novel/scrapbook. everythings piled in a drawer at home. it wasn't until we really started touring, on stage, under lights, every night, that i realized how painfully perfect she was. a white knife that cut straight to the heart of all of this, so little in the way.

he took me to the hills outside leeds, to a rock formation called the cow and calf - guess which one is the small one. there was graffiti up there from the 1800s, when people really took the time to do it right. all etched out in olde englishe font, so much care put into every line and corner of each letter. it looked like the scottish highlands up there, all rocky and barren with the wind whipping something fierce, pale flowers and weeds clinging to the rocks for dear life. sheep tottering around aimlessly. it was a bank holiday and so families were doing what he said the english call "rambling". i can ramble. i can rumble. watch me. we went to a stand and ordered popsicles and for some reason i could not get over the hysterical sound of a grown man ordering a "lemon lolly and raspberry lolly". he told me to stop making fun of him. we sat and ate our lollies, wondering why we stupid enough to be eating anything frozen when it was freezing outside. he showed me the spot from which he painted a landscape when he was sixteen. later i saw a photograph of the painting. it was beautiful. he used to paint. now he doesn't. la la la la la....oh, manchester, so much to answer for....there is a light and it never goes out. etc. we used to do all these things. and now we get up in front of crowds of people and thrash around. we agreed it's ridiculous.

some famous german, nietzsche i think, said "all art aspires to the condition of music". i think all performance aspires to the condition of the bride. fifty or fifty thousand screaming fans couldn't touch the feeling of looking into one unsuspecting person's eyes for a few moments. they hadn't been expecting me. i hadn't been expecting them. we just found each other for a second and the world stops, something vital happens.

we find each other like this sometimes, this is what it's like. trying to prolong a moment like that almost never works.

while i was back in boston on the last break, i ventured out to the cambridge arts council and bought my $40 street performing permit for 2007. i left it tacked to my door. we left on some tour or another. ah yes, the panic tour. thank fucking god that's over. right. and came back. on friday night i crawled under my loft-bed and dragged out the box. the smell alone when i opened it up brought me right back, a totally unique combination of stale make-up and sour sweat and wig spray and powder. it's never changed at all. i dusted everything off and fell right back into 1999. the air outside starting to turn into fall, the airplanes making that sound that i swear is totally unique to chilly late summer mornings. it must have to do with the air pressure outside, but there's this SOUND they make, only when it's bright out, and morning, a piercing sound that sounds like cosmic paper ripping apart.

in germany, a week before, i watched the torrents of rain come down on the crowd while they played their set. not just any rain, it was biblical, sheets of rain and freezing. but the crowd, they all stayed and danced. they clappped, they lost their minds. the band knew how to take care of them. it's a different fucking world, it's a different set of expectations.

one evening was spent making up dirty limericks. he was much better at it than i was. i want our fans to dance, i said. he said, it's all nonsense. i said, the hit single will be called "you make them dance, i'll make them cry". i woke up in the morning with a limerick in my head. it wasn't funny, and it was too depressing to start the day off that way. i let him sleep, rolled off the bed and onto the floor, scratched it on a piece of cardboard that was lying there.

the basement of toscanini's smelled the same, the ice-cream cups all piled in the same place next to the freezer, the pipes all hanging janglely, and the little bathroom where i used to get dressed was still out of soap. i put on the dress, caked my face, donned the wig, pulled on my gloves, cut up the flowers with the scissors from upstairs. i felt like i was moving through a drawing of myself. my motor memory was right there, no time had passed. that walk from toscanini's to the spot across from au bon pain is always the most interesting, and totally different from the walk back when i'm finished. i am a grown woman, walking two city blocks and waiting at stoplights, wearing full bridal gear with veil and my face painted. it always gets some strange looks. i always felt this mixture of pride and embarrassment. nothing to see, nothing to see, please go about your business. then up to the pedestal, climb on top, fix my eyes on one spot and wait. i wondered if any dresden dolls fans would wander by and know it was me. the sun was in my eyes and i had to squint.

returning to the tour in germany i looked at my life like an outsider. the stultifying superficiality of the road and the care we all must take with each other, because every nerve seems to be a frayed one after four days on the road. the lack of privacy which has become de rigeur, shut shut shut shut shut your mind off, turn your body and your voice on, become somebody you were and remind yourslef that you'll sort it all out later. soon enough.

i find myself wanting less and less. and less and less and less and less and less. i know. i feel like i'm somehow disappointing everyone around me by not caring about certain things i used to care about. i think about january coming, with time to myself, time to learn how to play the piano, time to write new songs, time to become myself and everything else just pales. records not selling? that's fine. label is dropping us? wouldn't mind. world is ending? about time.
it all feels like a very irrelevant game compared to washing some dishes, running my hand against the wall, smelling the ground, feeling somebody's arms reach for me even if it's only for a second.

typical tourist influx, the passersby of harvard square on a random summer saturday, the harvard students and the average people. my wondering: there was one boy with a cure t-shirt who gave me a i-know-who-you-are smile. it was very sweet. but mostly it was glorious to stand there unknown and ignored or loved for standing on a street corner in a dress painted white. i can love everybody here so safely. everyone can love me but nobody can touch me. why did i ever think this was perfect. of course i know. it is perfect. i stood there for two hours in heaven. an old man in a tweed jacket with glasses came and stayed for a half an hour. he came back up for a final flower and we looked at each other for a long time. he knew. that was enough for me. that made my year worthwhile. we must be really close to the football stadium. i hear giant cheers. everyone at the bar was wearing a st. pauli shirt. it must be hunting season.

back in the bus, i try to care about our sets, throw myself into the music for two hours with everything i have and scratch off days on the calendar. all or nothing, all of this. sometime i look at brian and don't even recognize him. the unrecognizable has become common, i get it, i get it. i tried out a brand new song in bochum last night...i wrote it a few months ago. the long way out. it ties all of this together. it's the long way out. past the bar, and past the awning. past the yawning crowd. back into the end of harmony. back into the grind. back into the non-music land of music.

i dragged my box home, up the stairs to the apartment, and felt like i had given myself a profound pinch. i left it there, not unpacking the box or even counting the money i had made for several days. i almost wanted to just give it away. i used to think it was so absurd, to get paid for doing something that i probably would just do anyway. maybe that's why it's still so impossible for me to come to terms with the fact that i have a job. fucking ridiculous. it is. it's not. i don't expect anything. i expect everything. it's two o'clock, time for press.


an odd couple lay under the covers
who could never attach to their lovers
as she packed up to leave
he just smiled and agreed
"tis a joy reserved solely for others".

64 comments:

generic said...

I know it's silly to say this, but it's hard to fathom that someone can have a life quite like yours. You're a performer, in a band, and have a tooth that likes to get knocked out; in my opinion, it's a suicidal tooth. I'm sure it must happen. My glasses are the same way.
Then you come home to 'reality' and can go put on a wedding gown and stand on a pedestal. It's borderline unfair. But that's why all of us fans love you.

Eat Less, Excercise More and Cheer up said...

Amanda

Every time I read your blog, I feel like I either totally get you or completely fail to get you at all.

I believe you are an amazing person. It shows in your words, in your music and I am sure if I ever see you as the bride in your almost lack of movement.

I guess we are what we are, sleep and time alone is always good and we can never get as much as we want to get.

I really look forward to seeing you perform in Sydney, I hope the fans here in Aussie give back as much as you will give us.

We all deserve to have someone hold us when we need to be held

Ahhmanda said...

It's 6 am, and I should have been doing summer reading but instead I've been looking at all things Dresden Dolls for much of the night... Anyway, I think that your philosophies are amazing, and so is the bride thing. And I think I also enjoy surprising people. I am really quite tired, but I don't think I'm very delirious.

I can't say I have any words of comfort... but at least people are listening. I'm really trying to go to the Starland Ballroom show in New Jersey.

sexygoddess1971 said...

I get really worried when I read your posts sometimes that all this touring and all the expectations that you and the fans put on to yourself will become too much and that you will give it all up to maybe going back to being "the bride".

I really hope this doesn't happen. It would deeply sadden me.

But if you ever do get to the point where The Dresden Dolls puts too much of a strain on you being a "happy" Amanda, please keep up your blog because it is truly mesmerising and REAL.

i'm sorry said...
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ainsley said...

You inspire me to no end. I hope that one day, I'll walk down the street and see you on your pedestal. Should this ever happen, I'll be the one staring up at you in awe until my mother, father, or another authoritive pedestrian drags me away and tells me it's time to go.

love,
Ainsley

Brandon said...

It's already been said and done, but it's important. You are 100% completely inspiration. You have this mad passion and love that you let pour forth through everything you say and write and do, and it's just so incredibly inspiring. You may not always be happy with it all the time, and you may not like it all the time, but you APPRECIATE life and just to have this complete underlying Love for how beautiful life really can be. And I think you make other people feel that too, by everything that you say, do, write, etc.

I am so very happy for you that you are finally taking somewhat of a break (Or, at least, it's on the horizon). Although, in my selfishness, am rather (aka OUTSTANDINGLY SO) sad that Columbus doesn't seem to be appearing anywhere in your plans anytime soon.

You still have my Love.

Peace and Deserved Pillows,
brandon

sexygoddess1971 said...
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Catticus Rat said...
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the Kate said...

Amanda Palmer is better than smoke rings.

Bryan said...

i know this is really going to just read like i am a crazy person but, I envy you in so many ways

you are an artist, an artist who can survive just making art something i have been striving to become for years

but at the same time i read your words and so often i see a person i am afraid to become

i see both sides of this equation
and honestly i shed some tears, real tears mind you, something i don't do often anymore

i sincerely hope you continue making music cause the dolls inspire me like no other band i have ever known, however if the bride is what makes you happy, fuck everything else, becuase the people who are really fans of the dolls are not just fans of the music but of the people inside of it and would not want anything else but it's purest form

be the artist you want, not who you think is expected of you

P.S. unless you think it is an invasion of something sacred to you I am going to attempt to start my Groom here in Kansas City

I think it may be something i have to experience cause like you i believe in that surprise, that connection for a brief instant between two people it's why i write i just need to connect to maybe make someone else feel something good

once again if this would not be acceptable just mention it in your next post or something and I will abandon this project i would not want to invaded somthing you feel is private

your friend, fan, brother in arms

Bryan

Pirate Aleksei said...
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Pirate Aleksei said...

You said you used to think it was absurd that you got paid to do something you’d do anyway. I read for a living. Some nights I can’t even stand to read ads on the subway I’m so sick of it and my eyes are so tired I’m blind by the time I get in the shower. I check my email and hope with everything in me that it’s empty so I don’t have to even read the name of a sender. But I can’t not read a blog from you, no matter how long it is or how tired I am. You’re writing is so eloquent and so brilliant and so beautiful, so appropriate, that it makes me remember I used to think it was absurd that I got paid to do something I’d do for free anyway. I know you’re not writing for me, but thank you none-the-less.

Pirate Aleksei said...
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Pirate Aleksei said...

PS - Sorry about all the removed comments. Computers suck and freeze up and do things they shouldn't and you ended up posting the same think a million times. Cheers.

ashlee said...

1. i'm sorry. and i can only muster a one. my two is like all those things you can't quite get at. i'm so sorry.

andrea said...

Amanda,

You've always surprised me...

All my love,

Andrea

Rebecca said...

Amanda,

I think you've even turned blogging into an art.

Love,
Rebecca

Joshua said...

Wow, reading that post gave me a flashback to May sometime. I was walking down the street, listening to music on my mp3 player, when I saw a woman (or man-in-drag), dressed in a white dress, with white gloves, white makeup and a white wig standing completely still on a pedestal and holding out little white cards. The moment I saw this I was taken with excitement, but the shy boy in me emerged, and I just kind of stared off out of sight, looking back every now and then. That sounds like buckets-o-fun...

FireAngel said...

Amanda,

One day I wrote you a letter about having my little triplet babies die one by one and how my husband left me months after my 1-year-old died, for someone who used to be my friend. I told you how your song "Good Day" was my song at that time. It gave me strength.

I see things so differently after that whole experience. What I see in your entry is that you had it all before but couldn't recognize it for what it was. You had to experience more before you could truly appreciate what you had before and now you see. You see that less is more and you see the things that matter... That really matter. It's the things you take with you when you die. It's experiences and memories and joys and sorrows and love and all the things your senses pick up. Money is just something to help make you more comfortable so that you can focus more of your energy gathering up the important things.

Natalie Rose said...

On my desktop there's a text document titled, "Living Statue 101" that I managed to dig up somewhere on the internet. At the time I was trying to figure out if I'd be allowed to be a living statue on the main street in my hometown during the summer. Tips on the subject supposedly written by Amanda Palmer seemed too delicious not to snatch up. Eventually, though, it became widely known that my town is run by bastards who consider street performing to be no better than pandering or soliciting people for money. I wasn't sure how much my getting arrested (over dramatic... ticketed) would serve to promote art.

In the meantime, though, I'd become completely enticed by "the eight-foot bride." I found brainwashed.com and too often I'd gaze and this would look like this to me. There's something absolutely celestial about the bride.

Many a times I found myself talking to friends and mentioning "the eight-foot bride." Only ones who know the Dresden Dolls, of course, but I always found it interesting that no matter how many glazed over looks I got, no one stopped to ask me what I meant by it. I didn't stop to tell them, either. I guess it never occured to me that any hardcore fan of the Dresden Dolls wouldn't know what Amanda Palmer used to do for a living. And how marvelous it is.

I daydream about going to Boston, finding a place in Harvard Square to sit and observe you, from a far, awestruck, with pen and paper in hand. Sometimes you see me. Sometimes you don't.

i'm sorry said...
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i'm sorry said...
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i'm sorry said...
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i'm sorry said...
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Jill said...

In the Pit stood The motionless Bride
wanting more. So she tried and she vied.
And she formed a cult band
traveling all o'er the land.
But for Bride days she cried and she cried.

Chernobyl said...

Last holoween I was in boston for your hsow, I live in denver, my girlfriend at the time spent about a thousand dollars and 2 days just to see you. I spent most of my time just hoping to happen upon you in your white dress. The life you live is the one you choose, and if you choose to get up every day, book another tour, write another album pose for another photo, sign another autograph, then you chose it. The choices that you've made have lead you here, and the choices that you make can lead you back to the life that you want, but if you knew what it means to all of us, would it be worth it?

sexygoddess1971 said...

To "bush"

On behalf of anyone who may have read your comment before I had the chance to warn of its existence or you deleted it, your apology is accepted.

Please know that everyone has issues, problems, whatever BUT this is not the place for them.

This blog is where Amanda has her chance to vent and her many fans get an insight into what makes her tick.

If you feel so strongly about our world, start your own blog for others to read and comment.

Also darling, God is not going to save us. It is up to us to save ourselves.

Best wishes.

mrs_entity said...

sometimes you can get too caught up in taking things seriously and you start to lose your perspectiv. Their comes a time where you just have to take a step back and make sure your sense of humour remains intact. There's a lot of people who don't care in the world, but that should only serve to enhance the privelige of the experience for those who do.
My kingdom for a fish...

RosieNoName said...

Your writing makes my chest ache.

it's just me, diana. said...

i always knew you were the harvard square bride. but you obviously never knew who i was, and i would always pass by you. kind of just stare at you for a bit, i hadn't seen anything like this before. now harvard square has a sort of .. emptiness in it. it's sad. bring the bride back amanda!

bluesbrothers2000 said...

Amanda,

I have been a long-time fan of The Dresden Dolls website. amazing. I would just like to point out a website that I've come to know pretty well recently. www.raptureready.com... May not be as crazy as it seems. May peace be with you always.

Love,
David

Toadflax Bob said...

"it all feels like a very irrelevant game compared to washing some dishes, running my hand against the wall, smelling the ground, feeling somebody's arms reach for me even if it's only for a second."

but if you had them all the time, they wouldn't feel so special. they would feel just the way you do now.

"sometime i look at brian and don't even recognize him."

maybe he feels the same way too... it will happen. just like any married couple... it works it's way through, but you have to fight the fights and be willing to lose a few... and really listen.

Clem said...

do you enjoy preforming or does it just feel like work?

do you really really enjoy it?

how much?

take care of yourself.

Bill Hicks said...

Sounds like you are catching the Kurt Cobain syndrome. Hope the fun in playing music comes back for you.

what boudu is thinging when he is talking said...

TANGERIENNES!

Ok.
I am from the Bridge. I have seen your band a couple of times, and I walked though HS countless times. I have never seen you as your bride. I don't doubt that you do it but it just seems weird. 18 years every day walking though the square, seeing you 5 times or so on stage.

I do belive you get the money, there was an article a while back about how much the pan handlers get in money given to them by the cantabridgians.

I hope to see/fall in love with you in the near furture.

boudu

Naomi Fearn said...

Dear Amanda,

if you haven't yet read Bill Brysons "Short History of Nearly Everything", do so at once. I found myself reading the Introduction and First Chapter in the park and nearly cried looking up at all the wonder around me. It puts everything in perspective and in such a charming way that it might alleviate your blues for a while.
There is no limit to the times I can listen to 'Night at the Roses'or 'truce' and I loved your rendition of 'Eisbaer' in Berlin.
About the bride, well, at least you're not a mime ... :)

nurse vicious said...

Oh so sad ( You are breaking my heart) Go HOME soon ( I've missed my things ) Lie in the grass, take time , love life
DO NOTHING but think
Lay around comteplate STUFF
Think of he and myself
Live LIFE have fun ourselves
Create for him and me
Do nothing
Fill your heart with cheer
Wait awhile TIME will call you back

Atul said...
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Atul said...

Amanda,
As for looking into an unsuspecting person’s eyes…finding someone for a second, and the world stopping and something happening. Yes! One time I was walking down my street in Chicago and a woman on a front porch caught my eye just as she was lifting up a planter to get her spare key. It was an incredible moment of a gaze: She was trying to figure out if I was the type of guy to rob her blind or even lurk in her house and I was trying to figure out if she could see my soul. “No worries, I’ll just reassure her she can leave her key there.” Bah. Thank god I must have shaved that day: in the next second as she turned to open the door, I somehow knew I passed her test. It was artless, delicious and I told everyone about it for weeks.

And, yes! The Bride, bourne forth from Toscanini’s, perfect, indeed. (But I hope you hear we all hope you remember wabi-sabi during your other performances.) I envision legions of Dolls fans jockeying to find the most glorious but still unobtrusive way to fete you as you gaze over that courtyard in front of Holyoke Center. Grooms appear, whole generations sit at your feet. The first thing that pops in my head would be to run into the Yard and flag down freshmen until I found a guitar. All the better to serenade you with one of your own songs (after dropping the duckets for the privilege, of course). But even so, that’s not really unobtrusive, is it? Well, maybe just a snippet of a song. Something about choosing a noble occupation (twice!) but natural talents not really being wasted…

My post isn’t long but it looks so, so I put the rest in my profile.

Hope NZ and the Austraila are rocking, and hang on,
Atul

david said...

Wow. Every time I read your blog I am transported to another place of mind. You live the way I wish I could live. Carefree, artistic, in love with the world... and then there are the days you hate everything. Ah, to be human. You find the words so easily it seems to show us this wonderful glimpse of humanity. It's too bad I don't live closer to Boston, I'd have probably have stopped and stared for hours at you on your pedestal.

A loyal fan,
david

david said...
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david said...
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S said...

Ever read slaughterhouse-five by Kurt Vonnegut?

secondhand fan said...

i just started reading your blog today, its eloquent in ways i didn't know eloquence could exist in the world... you are a light that never goes out

Eleanor said...

hey amanda...
rundle mall or glenelg(Adelaidde, South Australia) would appreciate the bride, need some new performance art around here.

cant wait till the concert! your blog is great...my teachers don't see the funny side of it though... many comments like "what is this rubbish?", "why would ANYONE go into that much detail about their period?!"... i maintain it was legitimate research (advertising assignment)

anyway... i'd love to see the bride, love the site etc...

PEACE... im out...

eleanor ruby said...

i have a passion for surprising people, too. my friend megan and i often do things for the thrill of people's reactions.

my favorite is the car-dancing. we drive to a stop&shop, park her car, roll down the windows, and blast music. then, we proceed to dance wildly around the car. we forget ourselves. we forget that we're in a supermarket parking lot. we close our eyes and spin, we jump, we scream. sometimes people gather and sometimes they look away, almost as if they're frightened of us. but when people watch, when they smile and look us in the eyes, the feeling is indescribable.


lots of love,
michelle

Atul said...

Amanda and Dolls Diary Denizens,

ok. Because putting the last, slightly more personal, bit of a comment in my otherwise empty profile is more than a little lame,
(Not that anyone flamed me...just about everyone here, especially the regular posters, seem/s very warm and generally cool) here's the rest of it:

...natural talents not really being wasted…

My first fanboy post ever, at the ripe age of 30, was on your blog. It was fun, but it was out of date with some of the news in your previous posts. Now I’ve been reading back issues of your blog in my spare time. (It’s a tome, woman! Easy to get lost. What with life changing blackouts, attending concerts next to mr. and mrs. Oberts, late night hotel visits in Japan, cardinals, posts that change the fabric of the internet, and avril every which way. Mostly, it’s heartbreaking and still wildly entertaining. A bazillion impenetrably personal musings.

In any case, now I know (Added: we didn't go to college in the same town ), Pamplona has in fact reopened (still not sure I can go back, lest I have the chance pour peppermint tea on your thigh highs) and that we have little chance of taking you out for a drink after Chicago, with your yoga enlightened, ‘not rock and roll’, established rock star regimen. (Added: Not to mention I believe you when you say you're completely overwhelmed and you need time alone...in cafes, etc.; but yes I have recommendations for Chicago)

I’m in the process of convincing myself that seeing you in Milwaukee too will increase my chances. What do you think?

And your limerick is killing me. Don’t give up hope. Maybe in January, or December when you’re not smelling of onions or Briding. Or even when you are. Or even now (Added: in Australia, I meant, except for the hopefully forgivable, cheeky double entendre to end the post with panache).

Again,
Atul

Battybaby said...

Hi Amanda,
I saw the Dolls at the Roundhouse in Sydney on Saturday night. You and Brian were absolutely BRILLIANT, I loved every moment and was sad when it was over. I hope you get some free time while you're here, even if it's only long enough to bask in the sunshine under these blue skies with the spring time flowers.

Batty
xxx

PS: We'll make it, I swear!!!

FireAngel said...

Amanda... I saw this in the news this morning and it reminded me of this journal entry. I thought you might like it.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20060917/od_afp/chinaartpoliceoffbeat_060917210839

Emiko said...

hi amanda. to be honest i haven't read the post, but i just wanted to post a quick comment to say i've just come back from the perth gig and it was GREAT!!!! thank you and brian SO much for coming and putting on a great show.

i was taking photos for fasterlouder.com.au, an australian online community website for gigs reviews, concert info, photos, forum, etc. so when that's up, i will give you the link of the photo gallery!

i hope you have/had a good time in perth too and i can't wait for you to come back again in a year!!!!

Socrates Volkova said...

Hey Amanda

yeah I cheacked out Your Amanda Palmer and Co living statuesness. I always wanted to be one, but I'm a terrible clutz...

I wish you would come to maine and do the 8 foot bride, it would be awesome! You look so different when your not in costume. It feels like I could have passed you on the street about a dozen times. I'm planning on going to Montserrat for college and I hope I might see you around =^.^=

Nyah!
~Socrates Volkova ish a BIG fan and loves you.

richardcraniumsideshow said...

hi amanda.im very sorry about Ben. i lost my best friend years ago and i still think about him every day.it was suicide, so i had many emotions of guilt, and was hurt from him not being honest with me about his inner feelings about life.i also wanted to comment about the panic at the disco show where you were treated badly.i know it was a long time ago, but i wanted you to know how i felt about it.i too am a female singer, and my band consists of me and all other males.when we first started 3 years ago, i was a horrible singer.the reason why i was in the band was because my boyfriend is the guitar player, and the rest are all long time friends.when we played shows, i was so nervous, not because i dont like being center of attention(which i love) i just wasnt confident enough in my voice.people thought we were horrible, and i knew it was because of me.playing shows started becoming something i dredded.even though people seemed like they didnt like you guys at that show,you rocked it.the point is, its not about who doesnt like you, its about the people who do like you, and if you like yourself.you are so confident, and thats what people love.i have become a great singer, and very confident in myself, and now i crave the shows.its my life.you are so lucky to me to be able to even play shows like that.i cant wait to open a show for you.we are in the process of completing a press kit to send you.we talked to emily about it.our band is all about circus and carnival shit.but thats not why i commented you today, i just really think you are a great singer and i thank you for contributing to some of my confidence.YOU ROCK.

Thinker said...

Amanda, your writings are beautiful. I know you must get sick of hearing this, but, from what I've read, you seem a wonderful person, very much in touch with the subtle world that people rarely appreciate.

Isn't is strange, that people can connect with you when you appear before them as a statue, as the bride statue, yet people very rarely connect with one another in the street, or on the train?

absence-is-steel said...

I agree with the person above me.

You should seriously write an autobiography some day.

faggotkabuki said...

You tend to mention Boston a lot. I miss New England awfully these days. I want to move back but I'm not sure how....

Thanks for the show here in Portland, Oregon. My boyfriend wanted you to sign his underwear but I was too tired to wait by the van.

Heart,

Brendon
AKA Precious Hottest She-Male

alanna said...

you're in leeds!
i miss england so. and i only got to stay a week.

funny how some anachronistic americans get so cozy in england.

i'm dressing up as you for halloween. you as in your stage character. perhaps even as specific as your character in the video for "coin-operated boy".
there's a brian character too, of course. he has the most lovely collection of bowlers. i, on the other hand, must go find some mary janes.

be well...or at least aware. ;)

love, a.

Anonymous said...

dear amanda,

i finally found the courage to post a comment. i was at the gig in bochum, and since then i really couldn't get your new song out of my mind. it was fantastic. however i can't remember all the lyrics, which makes me very sad somehow. i so much hope, that there will be lyrics posted soon, or that the song is published oder something like that. i'm really starving to listen to it again. don't know how to say that in english actually. you guys and your music mean so much to me, i can't even tell in words.

i've been breathin evil air, sharing needles with the sky..

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tucker said...

So many years back, I approached you on a dare. A hunt. You acquiesced, and I never did call.

We did spend a lovely afternoon or two sitting by the river, drinking coffee.

Hope you are well.

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