Tuesday, January 30, 2007



this is what i started the other night, it was thursday i think:


as i sat down to write this new blog, i broke another wine glass.

this time it didn't slice my finger off but rather collided face-on with my laptop.

how did this happen, you ask? well, i was sort of holding both, idiotically, in order to ... now i can't even remember what. i wasnt even drinking....the wine glass was left-over from the night before....i was tossing the dregs of it in the sink, and the computer? i think i was moving from one place to another. the screen sustained minor injuries and my floor probably has some hints of shrapnel embedded amongst its inhabitants (note to self: don't walk around barefoot until you vacuum....or better: just dont walk around barefoot, at least until the glass has ground itself into the carpet and floorboards, THEN walk around barefoot is OK). but it's a greater symbol. i have been a complete flake lately.

i've missed interviews, forgotten dates, locked my keys in my car, forgot to show up for my second day of jury duty (i ALMOST got the rape case on day one but was dismissed on account of being "bohemian"....no shit....i went up and was questioned by the judge and lawyers of the case and then had to stand aside while i heard mumblings of "mrmrmrmmmm bmbmmrmmbohemianmmrmrmmrmmmrmgrmgrhrgggbohemian?mrmrmrmrhhm hhmhmrh mbrbmbrboHEmian,mmrm rmrmrrrr......juror dismissed" WHO fucking uses that word anymore? i loved it) and have sliced my hand, fucked my finger, whatEVS, the list goes on.

what is happening? i think i'm giving myself too much freedom, i mean, i'm rushing around so joyously enjoying my freedom that i forget there's also respoooosiobiloioto


that was not a typo.

that was my keyboard dying a liquid death.

i should have known. why did i leave my delicate electronics ON when i should have shut the bitch down, turned it over, hit it with the hairdryer, chanted, done a rain dance?

why? because i'm a fucking post-modern addict and i felt the need to blog about my misfortune instead of handling it like a sane person. wait. not sane. there's got to be a better word. responsible??

was god laughing at me by making my keyboard die exactly t the time i was typing out that fucking word? for fuck's sake.

anyway, things went from worse to worser. i drove cloud one into a curb and blew the tire within 25 hours of destroying the mac. miss glenna and i waited in the car for two hours for triple A to show up and two me back to the cloud club...it was late late, we'd been dancing, drinking, screaming, yelling, laughing....i had thought i was ok to drive. was i? was i not? was it just the excitement of the night? was i sober...yet special?? i must have been out of my mind. i'll never know. i've been pushing the limits over the past few months, always managing to stay within the scary grey area of not drunk but fuzzy enough that you question your own questioning and then turn round and question that. its not something you ever want to discuss, i fear even discussing it here....because admitting that i may have been too drunk (notice the qualifier) to drive feels like a black mark that land on my head like a 276 pound guilty weight, i can feel my mother's email right now. better to face up to it, better to admit it. i have a breathalizer coming and i will be keeping it in the glovebox. i am not into taking risks, not these kind. no fucking way.

i offered glenna an apology in the morning. we had loved the tow-truck driver. an experience, we agreed, not to be rgeretted. sxip and the luminescent orchestrii (www.lumii.org) who had provided the soundtrack for the dancing all came out to breakfast with me and glenna, becca and max. we feasted. back at my house, i played them the song i'd finally finished after months of putting off. i'll try to debut it on wednesday at joe's pub. it hurts to play, its a pounder, i'm proud of it. i knew it was good when sxip winced and whispered "oh my god" during the last verse. maybe it was "oh jesus". either way, it was all i needed.

it's called Guitar Hero.

it was max's birthday, so we went to the gardner museum and sat around, looking at the beauty and talking about life. that's the perfect day. and then later a movie too.

but my head kept nagging, the tire was another nail in the coffin. why am i so distracted, amanda amanda amadna, why am i moving so fast? i went to yoga yesterday and upon leaving almost pulled straight into a truck. punch drunk on my own freedom, moving so fast to fit in my life that i've missed so dearly, my self that i've missed so much.....and i've just scheduled myself to the teeth for the next 4 months, so i'm not even that free. maybe that's whats killing me. i don't know.

i am taking the time, real time, to slow down soon. part of me doesn't want to. im going on a 8-day intensive yoga retreat at the end of february. no phone, no computer, no shit. may is earmarked for a month, also without accouterments, in bordeaux france where i've landed a sweet-ass apartment for free through the city's arts council. i imagine myself eating croissants and finishing a book every other day and occasionally practicing a chopin prelude while my friend jean-francoise lights a hangover cigarette from his spot in the bathtub.
"amONdah, what eeees thees thing we are calling LIFE"
and i answer
"jean-francoise, do not ash in the toilet, i get you an ashtray"

i am starting to worry that i am fucking up because i can pay for it.
has this happened to anybody? i'm not rich by any stretch of the imagination, but i'm not scarping my rent together anymore and i don't sweat getting parking tickets like i used to. as soon as i was able to not sweat a parking ticket, i found myself lazier in racing back there to feed the meter. what the fuck, i think. it's fifteen dollars and probably not going to happen. fuck it. these choices can make life dangerous. i can fix the tire. i have the money. i can fix the computer. but not everything is fixable by far. with money or not. do the rich, the truly rich, live carelessly? if so, have i not noticed? i think it's a personality thing.

i know that a large part of me is just distracted by the pain of huge change. i'm used to seeing brian viglione the drummer every day, have been for years.....i'm used to being part of a whole no matter how unwholesome, and the void hurts. i dont talk much about our relationship here (against the moral code of blogging) but it's no mystery that its a long and deep and complicated one. the play was a brutally painful way to end things, for me at least, with so much weirdness in the air. blah blah blah, we need our space, i know how it goes, time will heal most wounds. we went on too long, way longer than we should have, about a year or two longer than we should have. i voted for a break before the last record and got vetoed. brian tried to veto the play and i strong-armed him into it. we kept at it. maybe we shouldn't have. maybe it would have changed things. maybe it wouldn't have changed dick. we were running on tired and toxic fumes for the past year. who knows. nobody's asking any questions and so nobody's thinking much about answers. still, i must remind myself that nobody will ever care about our relationaship as much as us. weird as it seems. i watched the raw footage for the roundhouse DVD tonight and it seems like a relic from years ago....we were trying, trying, trying so hard.

i am putting all of my solo songs from the last many years together for pre-production on a new record. i laid them all around me in a pile on the kitchen floor until it was covered. i was happy with what i saw. norah jones it will not be. commercially viable,,,,well, no. probably not. no way. more like a travelogue in music of the past 5 or 6 years. all the intimate, long, commercially-unviable, this-one-is-way-too-long/slow/whatever-to-go-on-the-record. my own choices, how overwhelming and frightening and beautiful and scary. any blame and glee will be mine all mine to put on myself. i cant wait to begin, i can't wait to hear the sound of the piano coming through my headphones and to know that it's my voice in there, my notes, the sound i can make, as ugly and beautiful as it wants to be, with nobody to answer to but myself.

lee put a bell above the stairwell leading up to the top floor. a bell on a string at head-height. if you're not paying attention, you walk straight into it and smack your head on the thing. and it rings, oh it rings. lee calls it " the consciousness bell: a friendly reminder to stay awake and aware". i call it "the masochist bell: an evil reminder that we deliberately put shit in our own way." we joke. but it's all too fitting. we do these things to ourselves, we build up more and more levels. when do you decide that something is there as a god-sent reminder to stay present and patient and when do you see it as something caustic that just brings you anguish? it's like tying a red string to your finger to remind you to take the trash out....and you sit there admiring its pretty color and texture as the fucking truck pulls away.

like the old man on the porch with his dog sitting next to him, yelping in pain.
"why's he cryin'?" asks a neighbor passing by.
"sat on a nail" answers the man.
"why don't he get up?" asks the neighbor.
"don't hurt enough yet" shrugs the man.

i was thinking about the party metaphor from the last blog. and about what bands in general go through. a party, a scene, a band, nobody wants to be a member of a club thats huge and non-exclusive. wait, i take that back, lots of people do. thats why we have sports. sports sort of represent the opposite. but the downtrodden, the self artists and misanthropes, the thinkers, the hopeless romantics, they all want to find a smaller elite. i remember being shocked when people started posting things to our board about liking the band more before we got big. we got big? when did that happen? why didn't i get the memo? people may adore you until you hit the mainstream and then you're just as useful as the red sox, a team taht anyone can love and so the bond formed over a beer and love of something in common becomes about as meaningful as a love of...i don't know, beer. or food. or air.

however, song on radio is one thing and reading paragraphs of the written word is another. maybe why this blog works, why i continue to feel so connected to all of you reading it. it doesnt take as much effort to hear a song on the radio and like it. it does take some degree of effort to sit your ass down and read this far into a bunch of word typed out by a maniacal songwriter who is a self-admitted mess (but aren't we all?) a perpetually recovering narcissist, a serial epiphinast. you can only relate to me because i can relate to you. every comment that i read back proves me righter and righter. i know i'm not talking into a vacuum. is that so odd? the fact that you have arthritis, messes, pains, NPR addictions, jobs as pool designers, dying fathers, it kind of doesn't matter, all the shit that goes down, its a small little world, we're sharing it in spades, all the time. there's no way around it.

on that note, some thoughts on the last round of commets, while we're at it:

myspace "kudos". right. i have no idea what they are, except that in the land of myspace, it is the potentially lame and misguided name that they have given to what i would prefer they label "acknowledgment". what i find totally bizare is that you can either give one "acknowledgment" or two. i mean, how can that be? don't you either "acknowledge" something or "not acknowledge" it? what i weird fucking word. acknowledge. stare at that one for a minute and see what i mean. ACK. but i mean really. if you give one kudo, does that mean youre only half-acknowledging what the person has written? and how fucked is that?

the possibility of commenting back to someone's comments on myspace....thank you all for pointing that out...i'd never noticed that you could indent the conversation thread that way. now i am happy to know that one comment can give rise to another.

avril is recording a new record? o good. so is panic at the disco. our lord works in mysterious ways.

the onion cellar blog, i 'm still working on it. distance is lending perspective to that dark time of my life already. i learned more lessons in that few months than i may in my lifetime, and i'm still processing it all.

some german fans decided to make a video about baking a chocolate zucchini cake.
i watched this and peed my pants with glee and wondered in awe at the randomness of the world. anything can happen.
small things like this make me happier than you can possibly imagine.

the finger. the finger is healing, slowly. acupuncture before bedtime is helping.

"You're left with flakes of paint and corners of posters left from old and reccurent efforts to create a bohemia."
whoever said this....you summed up my life nicely. thank you.

i have to thank all those of you who have recommended books via this blog in teh past year or so, i've kept them piled up and i've been devouring them lately with (finally, joy) time to read again. towelhead, don't lets go to the dogs tonight and oracle night all came from here. i ate them up. oracle night (paul auster) fucking blew me away. i want to recommend it back to everybody here. i didn't want it to end so i ordered the book of illusions and that too was quickly gone. he has ten more books. i'm working on timbuktu.

my total lack of caps.
for those of you upset or querulous about my lack of capitalization, i have only one thing to say to you:
please note how they fucked up his name in the url.

"It's also comforting to me to see how much what goes on in your head resembles my own thought patterns. Are most people like this? And we didn't realize it until now with the invention of the blog where everyone's thoughts are made public? Somehow all the zines and novels failed to capture this accurately."
i must say. i think most people ARE like this. we all deal with the same shit. most people just don't talk about it.

and everyone we know.

i'm going to new york in the morning. i'll be there all week. i love the train to new york more than life itself.

i was listening to someone's demo CD (sort of ambient techno, a la the great aphex twin) tonight and was really impressed by the way they managed to create a really cool song using the sampled sound of a skipping CD. it was done truly artfully, the skip never lasting too long and not sounding too perfect or precious or too random. id been wondering when someone would finally use the skipping-CD sound to create a whole track. i enjoyed it for about fifteen minutes then decided it was actually getting a little too wanky and irritating. plus i needed to concentrate on something else. i went into my bedroom to kill the sound.

i was wrong.

the CD had been skipping for fifteen minutes.

indeed, again,
it's strange how sometimes the fuzz between stations is sometimes more compelling than a clear signal from either side.



Anonymous said...

ah, i am so happy that i decided to check your blog before i went to bed. i even got out of my slouching position at the mention of an amanda palmer solo record.

i assume that you are not delving into material this far back for the album, but i have to express my love for the demo of "june is busting out all over". you were definitely in my thoughts when i recorded my solo demo a couple of months ago, also a piano-based thing.

anyway. i'm going to leave a link to it at the bottom, but i really just wanted to comment to express excitement for your new project.

cory [myspace.com/cory_martin]

Timeandalittleblackcload said...

dismissed on account of being "bohemian"?? i love it!!

glad to hear songs are starting to take shape for you again. i think we all have days/weeks/months wer it just seems like you need to wake up...that feeling of just being constantly clumsy or something...

maybe the bell is a good idea...but its still a masocistic idea! perhaps one we could all learn to love.

kepp writing,singing,dancing,bloggin,smashing wine glasses

Hunger For The Great Light said...

you were kicked off a jury for being bohemian. that is wonderful! i know where you're coming from, sort of. i've endured police harrasment (being pulled over, questioned on the street, etc.) for the past two years for no reason other than having long hair. young male in the middle of kentucky. and you're right, it is rather amusing.

i'm sorry to hear that you and brian are in a funk. i know exactly what it's like to be in that sort of creative relationship and to have it overload. you guys will be fine.

a solo record would be wonderful. my heart pitter-pattered a bit at the idea. a new dolls album would be amazing as well, though I can't imagine you guys are exactly rushing for the studio doors so soon after yes, virginia... not that i can blame you.

ah well, i've rambled on long enough.

ainsley said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
ainsley said...

I read this blog out loud to my mother. She helped me pronounce some of the more difficult words, I'm sad to say. I read your blogs, and skim the comments. Everyone is so brilliant, smart, knows exactly what to say. I'm always at a loss for words. So thank you, Amanda. Your blogs keep me going. I have your blog bookmarked and check it religiously every day before school.

A Unique Alias said...

I like the new look of the site . . . a bit less eye strain.

My buddy sent me a link to this story from NPR. I never would've guessed the business was like that. Yeesh.

I found this juxtaposition funny:
"mbrb mbrboHEmian, mmrm mmrmrrrr... ...juror dismissed" WHO fucking uses that word anymore?
"You're left with flakes of paint and corners of posters left from old and reccurent efforts to create a bohemia."

And, finally, several days ago I broke a damned wine decanter. It was like the sensation you get when you break a wine glass - - everything goes slow-motion, pit of your stomach drops out, you wonder how much you're going to bleed - - except times ten. Man, that sucked really, really bad.


petergrimes said...

I miss Brian, I love hearing about whats going on in your head, it makes me really happy to see a new entry, but I also wonder what goes on in Brian's head- does he feel left out because you have the 'emotional' connection with your fans- I wonder how he's feeling right now...
I always think about if its possible to shut out the world and write music that is completely you- I've tried this in various ways, but they're a bit weird... maybe i'll tell someone some day.. I hope your new album will be you you you

Damien said...

a serial epiphinast.

Thank you.. I thought I was the only one...

It's funny how everyone says taht, when they find another like them, isn't it?

Heh. Shit. Did it again...

Ronja said...

I'll consider the thing with the bell.. nice idea. It'd hang outside my door and it will remind me of what im actually doing.

Oh, and a solo record sounds delicius!
Keep going!

X Ronja

TongaLH said...

So, this was freakishly poetic. I was visiting www.bloggies.com right after reading your latest entry to see who had been named winners for 2007 and what do I read as one of the winners in the "Best European Weblog" category but...are you ready...Chocolate and Zucchini (http://chocolateandzucchini.com/)

Mysterious ways.

mdhatter said...

Occasional insomnia has it's benefits.

(I've no idea if this is the first comment, I fell asleep about a minute after typing the above line)

I'd rather read a blog post than a novel anyway. Less craft involved. Sometimes you see a thing and all you can see is the sculptors clumsy hands, othertimes all you can see is yourself.

Both are art, both are worthy. I just happen to prefer.

mdhatter said...

ainsley - no lurking - keep talking.

the_skyisfalling said...

Hey Amanda.
Sorry to hear about you and Brian - I'm not stranger to that situation. I don't know any of you personally (aside from the fragments I get from your blog and the general vibe that Brian gives off), but I'm certain you two will work things out. You're close - closer than any friends most of us can fathom.

You're also not the only arthritic one - at the tender age of sixteen, my hands are already there. When they told me this, I was also told not to play piano. Alas, my friend Doug turned me on to the Dresden Dolls, and I thought to myself:
"Wow. I'm going to do that. I want to play "Gravity" and sing at the top of my lungs and sound half as good as they do!" And so, I took up Piano again. I performed "Slide" a few months ago.
Thank you.
Be bohemian, girl. "La Vie Boheme," remember? It's impossible to escape.

I will remain a faithful blog reader, Dresden Dolls fan, Amanda Palmer follower, and Brian Viglione admirer. Always. No matter what.


Psst. It would be nifty if you were to read my blog. Not necessary, just nifty.

Kat from Sugar said...

lord in heaven. everytime i read your blog, it's like our thoughts are parrallel, except that yours are more advanced.

so i quit my job at the design firm and now i am totally focused on the band. we're getting up bright and early to slowly make our descent to the mississippi. casinos for two straight weeks. 10 shows. and we play for 5 hours at a time with 20 minute breaks on every hour. i've never sang more than 3 hours at a time, and never more than 5 days straight. what the hell am i going to do?

i was supposed to get together with my original band today, but my partner in crime on that just so happens to be the drummer/agent of the cover band and he is, of course and understandably, busy. but i am bummed. because everytime we don't get together, it's one more day of static.

to make the best of it, i turn to your blog for inspiration. WWAD. (by the way, my ringtone is the intro to backstabber. makes me happy).

so i'll pull out my book of fragmented songs and try and add to the pile. and maaaaaaaaybe someday i'll have enough to be able to spread out on the floor. i cannot wait to hear your solo stuff.

until then, i'll be sleeping in hotel rooms with snorers and smokers, new yorkers and hopers, and me.

noperipheralvision said...

dear amanda,

I remember when you wrote about music and how for you, it was more about "what it does/what it can do" rather than "what it is". That really struck an unepected chord in me and I realized that it's the same thing for me with music and basically any medium of art.
So thanks for helping me define my relationship with art.

"dismissed on account of being bohemian." That deserves a place on your resume.

I almost hate to say this because so many people have told you this that it's stopped getting to you.
But I'll say it anyways: For what it's worth, you're awesome and unbelievably talented.

By the by, will you ever be willing to share your chocolate-zucchini cake recipe?

with love (I was going to say, "with rock love" but how lame would that be for me?),

the Kate said...

Amanda! Come on! Drunk driving?! That's so GWB.


Len Tower Jr. said...


thank you for "epiphinast"

several meanings came to mind, some of which made sense ;-}

best -len

btw, it's not in the oed, or several other dictionaries. one of the great things about English is that one can spin new words out, and most will understand them. it's another thing that makes your blog worthwhile.

Leslie said...

I haven't commented in a while...

As more people have discovered the wonders of this blog and you get more and more comments it sort of made me feel as if what I said didn't especially matter, etc, etc. Yet in light of your more recent explanations of how much it all really means and promises that you really read every comment, it's brought me back. It's nice, because as so many people tell you what you write really means a lot and provides a true human connection for all of the people (including myself) who read your thoughts/feelings, and knowing that you too appreciate the greatness of this cycle/conversation.

ANYWAYS. I...was distracted by making plans and now I'm completely lost and don't know what I wanted to say and have to go back to reread your post..

About being a mess...
I understand
I am sick of myself
My room, is merely a reflection of my brain. Cluttered, stuffed full with dirty things that need to be dealt with, old things that need to be thrown away, remnants of the past, visions of the future that will never be more than a piece of paper, beginnings of stories, all shoved between four gorgeously orange walls.
We have a love-hate relationship.
Me and my room, that is.
Me and my mind.

About brian...I...the only thing I REALLY know about the relationship is what I have observed through the art. The only solid proof I have of how meaningful the friendship has become over the years has been absorbed through observation when seeing you guys live. And I can truly say that standing in the audience, I could feel the energy and connection between the two of you powerfully resonating from the stage. And it's beautiful. It was beautiful. It will be beautiful again...I hope. Because it's too much too let go of. That connection was something more than the two of you and your thoughts and good times. It was all intertwined into the music, what makes/made The Dresden Dolls so wonderfully raw and painfully phenomenal.

So there you go darling.

The yoga sounds like it will be wonderful. I am jealous.

I am excited about the possibility of an uncoming album of yours.

Speaking of books. Again:
House of Leaves.
House of Leaves.
House of Leaves.
House of Leaves.
I sound obnoxious but I don't especially care because I really think everyone who is anyone needs to read this damn book.

Oh, lots of love =]


Len Tower Jr. said...


if you can afford parking tickets, you can afford cabs. even cheaper when you share the ride with friends.

glad you're getting the breathalizer.

will you take/move it when you borrow a car?

best -len

PS: two books, you might enjoy

Floor Sample by Julia Cameron
- an artist's, often hard, journey

Honest Business: A Superior Strategy for Starting and Managing Your
Own Business
by Salli Rasberry and Michael Phillips - full of great examples and fables about doing business in a healthy way. if you like it, hunt up the stuff from the Briar Patch Network (the old printed stuff is better then what's googable).

Kevin Doran said...

Good that you like electronica. Here's one i made earlier...well, recently.

Ally* said...






Natalie Rose said...

I couldn't stop laughing and crying during the entire first half of this. I still can't at the thought of "respoooosiobiloito."

At the very end of my senior year of high school, I won a couple of scholarships via my high school. The local rotary club gave me a brand new laptop (which I would've otherwise been unable to afford) and even my best friend (who was the valedictorian and racked up a cool $2500 that evening towards Harvard) was jealous. It was delicious.

At the time my ex, the Swede, was visiting. About a week later, my beautiful new laptop sitting next to his, suffered a tragedy. I was laying on my bed, mostly asleep from working 40 hours a week why my Swede sat on his ass all day. I heard him say, "Ooops!" or some such, and when I drowsily asked, "What?" he assured me that everything was fine and that he had nearly spilled coke on the computers, but didn't. I mumble to him not to put drinks by the computers (like I've told him a thousand times) and roll over back into my mostly asleep state.

Five minutes later: "OH, SHIT." "What?" "Uhhh... I really did spill coke on the computer this time." (He was holding two glasses in one hand-- why?! Nobody knows!) I jump up, grab some towels, but the damage is already done. He spilled an entire glass of coke directly onto the keyboard of my brand new laptop. It was dead, and it was sticky. Luckily, my scholarship gift came with a warranty and I sent it into HP for repairs. They sent in back within a week and everything worked beautifully again-- except the keyboard was still sticky. It was so sticky, in fact, that by the end of the summer my "F" key had broken clean off.

I decided this was karmic energy from the universe telling me not to say "Fuck" so fucking much. A month or two later, the "O" key comes off too. What was the universe telling me now? Don't use "of" or "for" or "from"? I decided it was telling me not to use "motherfucker."

By the end of my freshman year at college, the Swede and I were broken up, and my gimpy keyboard was driving me bonkers. The new keyboard cost me $142 and another $40 to install it. I'm still rather annoyed at him for all of it.

...but, now, I can't help laughing.

Kudos (dear Lord, I swear I typed that before I realized what I was actually saying) to you for getting a breathalyzer. It is very responsible of you, and you've spare yourself a lecture from me. I'm starting to feel like I must be sounding pretentious, but for the first time in my life I'm going to *try* not to care. You know, under the assumption that someone on the planet besides me gets my sense of humour and realizes that anything that comes across as pretentious is a failed attempt of me trying to be funny. I guess that qualifies as caring? Fuck!

And this is me, in efforts to combat that, writing raw with mistakes and all and telling myself it's "honest."

In other words, between you and Lee, I would've been Lee. Hanging that bell as a "friendly" reminder to stay awake, alert and in the present.

Why do we do shit like this?

You know, last night I even started questioning myself on the nature of daydreams. As if to imply, to myself, that my own dreaming and imagining is completely pointless and only bound to get me in trouble. Eventually I came to the conclusion that I dream for the exact same reason that I write and make music-- "because I have to." How cliche is that? It's true, though. The shit my brain invents is far more addicting than any drug they could give me to "correct" it.

My I'm being profane today, aren't I? It's good to have an "F" key again.

My mother (pleasantly) interrupts me to redirect my attention to Ella, my rabbit, who's hopping around the kitchen. Somehow she got her teeth around a leather coaster, "a priceless piece from Peru" as my mother pointed out. We both just gaze at her with awe, flipping it playfully up in the air as rabbits do. (Four months ago I didn't know thing one about rabbits.) Then Mom tells me, "You used to chew on those too when you were teething."

And I just seriously backed into the TV tray that my laptop is balanced on. For a few seconds there, I could see flaming laptop wreckage all over the floor-- don't ask me why is caught fire. But, the tray rebalanced and my laptop is, miraculously, alright. I only backed into the tray in the first place because I was distracted by Ella's (nearly successful) attempt to escape through our makeshift barricade that separate the kitchen from the rest of the apartment-- a.k.a. the land of tasty wires.

This proves:
(1) The world is spinning
(2) Everything is connected
(3) Laptops are chronically suicidal
(4) Bunnies are at least as sneaky and clever as cats

This little bunny, although she doesn’t know it, saved my life.

Despite the fact that it made so much more sense to me to translate my emotional pain physically (she couldn’t deny it wasn’t there, then, right?), I got Ella and decided that no one (absolutely no one) was worth that much pain. Ella was a lot like I imagine having a child is at first. You have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and part of you just wants to take the damn thing back so you don’t fuck it up anymore. (And in Ella’s case, so she doesn’t eat through anymore of your wires/shoes/purses, etc.) You don’t speak the same language at first, but with time, you start to understand what the other is feeling.

I named her Ella Fant Gershwin. (I named her cage “John” and I die a little inside every time someone doesn’t get the joke.) She’s 9 months old, any one of most curious (and clever) little creatures I’ve ever met.

Amanda, you do realize you seem to be moving faster now that you have your freedom, don’t you? You kind of remind me of my grandmother—she did more after she was retired than before. But, that was her way. She was an extraordinary lady and she had lots to do, no time to slack off. She was a poet, among other things. She would’ve been 72 this year, if the emergency room doctors wouldn’t have dismissed and ignored her for more than 6 hours while she bled to death just because she was an “old” lady.

You notice that it’s the people who finally are content with their life who die first? I can’t decide if it really is a matter of the greater universal forces leaving all of us miserable folk here to rot together or if, after someone is gone, we can’t help but memorialize them as a “happy” person for our own grief. I’m starting to think it is the latter.

I feel like I’ve lost my direction. It figures; I’m not wearing my compass today. (None of that last sentence was the least bit symbolic. I really do wear a compass most days… but, ironically, I don’t know where I put it…)

[45 minutes]

Well, I didn’t find my compass. But I did find:

-Unopened Bra Extender
-Guitar Pick
-Notebook with Lyrics scrawled in it to a song I’ve been working on
-Rabbit Handbook (Overdue Library Book)
-Black Bear Marionette
-Postcard from France
-Signed Dresden Dolls Underwear (SWEET! I have been looking for these EVERYWHERE. I knew I put them someplace safe… i.e. inside my jewelry box… that I never use.)
-Star Trek “communicator” that I forgot to give back to Wren (the pin underneath it that it’s magnetically stuck to says, “Comfort the Disturbed. Disturb the Comfortable.”)
-Jew Harp
-Bubbles that say, “Punk Cabaret is Freedom”
-Box of Biglow Egg Nog Tea
-Antique Mirror behind my Dresser (I’ve never seen that mirror before in my life… gateway to another dimension?)
-“Minutes for Plan Progress Meeting Spring 2006” (Oh, Bennington)
-Ring that has “Natasha” engraved on it. (Natalie + Sasha = Natasha. I can’t believe we did that.)
-Several Fuzzy Pens
-Goggles (That are at least a decade old and don’t quite work right anymore)
-Incense Container
-Bendy Straw (that I think changes color based on the temperature of the liquid being drunk through said straw)
-Checks (to a bank account I closed months ago)
-Key Oiler (for my Flute)
-“Palatino” Cello Pitch Pipes (Made in China. C4, G3, D1 and A2. I stick this in my mouth and walk around playing either C and G or A and D together. Eventually I decide the pitch pipe is exactly half as fun as a harmonica—since you can blow out but not suck in—and go and find my Dad’s harmonica. I bought him the harmonica my last year of band camp… let’s see… Freshman year of high school, so summer of 2000. He played clarinet for 2 weeks in elementary school, and when I asked him what instrument he’d liked to play he says harmonica because the no one can tell how bad he is. I think I played it more this evening than he has in 7 years. I stick the harmonica in my mouth and wander around cleaning up the living room like I promised my mother I would. Eventually my mouth gets tired of gripping the harmonica, I put it next to the pitch pipe on my bed and put on The Red Paintings. Mom eventually comments that she doesn’t care for them. I tell her they’re “about 10,000 times better live.” Which is what many of my friends say about the Dresden Dolls, but I enjoy the albums too. After all is said and done, I’m back to the pitch pipe, but the Red Paintings are still playing through my laptop speakers. Delightful. C and G.)
-Combination Lock (that I no longer know the combination to)
-Book I’m currently reading, A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson (recommended to me by… err… oh right, you.)
-Men’s dress shoes (Mine, that I’ve been looking for for about a week! Huzzah!)
-Belle bookmark
-Stack of stickers from 50-cent vending machines
-Lock of Sasha’s hair (Oh Jesus… in my defense, I didn’t ask for it, she gave it to me for no apparent reason. And for the same reason, I seem to have kept it. The lock’s about 4 inches long and 3 different colors—she hates her natural hair colour.)
-Pen that says “Sweden” on it

…but no compass. Damnit, I’ve never misplaced the blasted thing, and I am so good as misplacing things. But, see? I would be Lee. Wearing a compass to remind myself to check now and then and make sure I’m “moving in the right direction.”

It’s a personality thing. I know rich people who don’t care how much of their own (or other people’s) shit they destroy because Mummy and Daddy will take care of it. And I know rich people who are anal to high hell and very careful about taking care of their (and other people’s) things. Of course, I don’t think you’re either. I think you’re just enjoying some well earned slack. For the sheer purpose of seeing how far you can push it. (I do the same with some things.)

There’s a blogging moral code? Shit, I’m sure I’ve violated it umpteenth times. I have no advice to give, at all. Except, in the midst of this all… drama with you-know-who-and-I-wish-I-didn’t (not really) it’s helped me a lot to remember that other people do know how I feel and have successfully survived it. I saw a pretty crappy movie lately, based on Italian movie that I assume is significantly less crappy, but it had one or two good moments/quotes. The first was, “How you feel only matters to you. What you do to the people you love is what matters.” The other was where the male lead is shitting on his girlfriend’s doorstep for several days without moving from his spot in order to get her to talk to him (and hopefully forgive him) for cheating on her while she’s pregnant. What struck me is what my Mom said about this, “See? Never give up.” To which I replied, “It’s not that simple.”

And it’s not. But, I’ve decided you can do both, let go and “never give up.” I think that I can keep sending her love and positive energy, for the rest of my life, and maybe… maybe it’ll help. Just a little. I don’t know why I just won’t give up on this one, though. What’s so important about this one? I’m getting a bit tangential again.

My grand realization recently, though, is that a heart that is closed to receiving love cannot give it either. That I have been a hypocrite.


The worst crime someone could commit against me is not to harm me, but to harm someone I love. And now I see, very clearly, that by not loving myself and by harming myself, I am, in fact, harming the ones I love.

So, yes. We are all fucked-up, narcissistic messes. (And those of us that are here right now are all serial epiphinasts… I think I need a tattoo of that or something equally as gaudy and obscene, but perhaps less mutative.) I love what Sxip said at the Theatre for the Living Arts in Philadelphia: “If you’re at this concert, you love music, you’re passionate and you’re a fuck up.” It’s too true. Maybe no one will care about your relationship but you two, but an immeasurable amount of people care about the happiness of you both. Remember that.

Natalie Rose said...

GOD, I'm obnoxious.

...I guess it's one of those days.

Jessica said...

I'm in the Amanda Palmer zone today. I'm doing a project in Music History Class on Vaudeville and I can't stop picturing that mans penis on fire. (IN TORANTO)

Any way, My final project for that class is very simply: choose an artist, and tell the class about them for 20 mins. Vauge? So I've decided to present about The Dresden Dolls.

I must admit I am fairly new to the "Dresden Dolls scene" and I really don't understand why Christopher Lydon is so important to you... Mainly Im just to lazy to google his name, so I thought I'd just go right to the source.

Not that by any means you asked for anyones advise, especially not "a girl with a college project" but, I know how it feels to be so scatterd all the time. Like when your driving down the road and after a while you have no ideea how the fuck you got so far from the last place you remember being...It's a shitty feeling.

But, from the little I know about you I don't think you have to be so hard on yourself. Your an amazing person doing some pretty fucking amazing things with your life. You should be proud of your self. So, in other words... Fuck the car if its double parked or the meter is out or some bull shit. Dabble in your earnings alittle. You deserve it, look at what 95% of America is doing with their money everyday.

Okay Its pretty obvious the laptop need to be put to bed, I hope my rant didn't just totally freak you out.

Beautiful_Wretched_Liar said...

I do the same thing with money. When I have it I am running around reckless and all willy-nilly through the quiet suburbia of Cape Cod. I always get speeding tickets, leaving library books out to long, or ignoring the little deadlines that involve payments. It is quite bizarre that I recognize this yet ignore it completely. With all of this recent connections between your blog and the comments I feel A bit self conscious typing here. Before it was anonymous, I didn't really imagine that THE Amanda Palmer would go through and read these. Maybe the first five or so but never as far and 24 or 25. Maybe I am just naive or something. I don't know. Now I can imagine you actually reading my comments. legs probably folded in some manner. Finger on the touch pad of a laptop. actually scrolling down to this VERY POINT. RIGHT HERE. You have reach this point. Hi. I don't know what to write now. Should I ask a question? (shit I just asked one didn't I) Should I recommend a movie or book or something (Like the secret of NIMH, watching the movie when I am older is SO much more interesting)? Do I specifically comment on your blog? Ask about the new song? Sympathize? Criticize? Emphasize? You are here in the wide world of cyber-space right now. Just you and me. You in real life. and me. Words on a page. Above and below me are others who demand you attention like I am doing now. Are you still reading? Waiting for what I am going to say next? It is fairly ironic that you and your work are such a major piece of my life and yet here I am, a Mere fan, one of thousands and yet at this moment I have your attention. You keep reading for some reason. Do you know why? What am I going to say next? Will it inspire? upset? confuse? bore? Hmm? I don't know and you certainly don't either. I have no I-dea what will be posted beneath this very line beneath this very word. It is all a great mystery and yet it is pour out of my fingers in a rush. The sounds of the keyboard fill my room. This is all now. now. now. now. It's thrilling? exhilarating? Adventure? maybe even dangerous? Do feel like this when you write? Will I look back at this comment in a few hours shocked at the embarrassing attempt to connect in some manner with you. you. you. Will I return and edit this comment and return it to its proper comment box all tied up in a little bow with equal amounts of literary aspects bursting with insightful metaphores and similes? Can I do that in good conscious? I mean this is a comment to the one person in this entire muddle-up shook-up fuck-up world who will always advocate for the freedom to express, and I would edit it for my own feeling of security? Hopefully no. It would be an insult to you. I guess I will make you stop reading me now and return you to the (perhaps) more sane and coherent comments of your wiser fans. I am going to go talk into a crappy tape recorder for a half an hour and pretend that if the words are heard from my voice, they'll make some sense.

Hello, and goodbye, as always.

andrea said...

why is it that everytime i read one of your blogs my own emotional turmoil starts to stir up inside of me? it's like your words hold the key to my emotions. it's infuriating when i don't want to feel them, yet at the same time, it's one of the most beautiful things i've ever experienced. i'm thankful. you're pretty much the only one who has ever been able to get to me like that.

today was a disaster, artistically. i wanted to paint. i went and bought a canvas. a big one. i wanted to draw on it before i started in with the paint. everything came out fucked up. now i'm left with a canvas full of eraser marks, and my mind is blocked as to where to go from there.
fuck, fuck, fuck.
i feel like crying out of frustration.
i'm off tomorrow. i'll fix it tomorrow.
and no, i'm not procrastinating.

as far as your current flakiness goes, it sounds to me that you've simply forgotten how to function in everyday life. it makes sense. when was the last time you were in the same place for this long? you've become socialized to the life of a touring musician. the same way an inmate becomes socialized to prison after 50 years of incarceration.

.....and i was just interrupted by a phone call from...my boyfriend/guy i'm dating/i don't know, who got back from a ski trip. i was barely interested in what he had to say? what the fuck is wrong with me?! is it just my bad day or am i simply, not in the mood to be with someone? not in the mood? what's that mean? this is the first guy i've dated in a loooonnnggg time. and dating him has made me realize how much i don't need to be with someone. i thought i did, not the needing part, but i felt like i was longing for someone. for companionship, now i see how it becomes an inconvience for me. my inconvienient truth. i'm taking your advice and reading Laura Kipnis's "Against Love: a polemic". i think it will either ruin me or help me. wait. i think i've just had my own epiphany: it's not me. it's him. and he's not my type. i think it's true because i feel relieved when i think about it. yay, i'm not doomed for forever aloneness, though i'm sure i'll never marry. and i think i'll still be happy.

see how you bring it all out of me.

don't drink and drive amanda. what else can i say? you know, you admitted as much. because you're right, it's not fucking worth the risk.

luminescent orchestrii is a great band. i had "knockin" stuck in my head a few times over the summer.

it's very good to hear that you're satisfied with your new song. you play the best pounders. guitar hero. so many things go through my mind of what that could mean. i'm probably not even close. i'm happy to wait though, considering that it goes on your solo record. speaking of which, knowing i have that to expect is a great feeling. peanut butter and jelly. bert and ernie. amanda palmer and a piano. need i say more?

as far as you and brian. it's seems like it's not my place. against the blogging code, ya know? i'll still be here when you two hit the road again.

the yoga retreat sounds nice. i wonder if they have those around here. i may need one. i've written too much today. i'm a journalism major. i'm minoring in art history so i can write about art and be an artist at the same time. my biggest fear is that if i end up writing and interviewing artists, they'll think of me as the enemy, when really i'm just the opposite. you've been interviewed. you know. press=enemy, but remember press=people too. and in my case, = ally. in the future, cause you never know what could happen, if i ever interview you, remember: she is an alley. don't hate.
fuck it. i'll get my degree and work at something else. don't most people?

i know my comment is everywhere today. i'm completely out of it. it's just one of those days where reality seems so far away, and everything is blurry.

read "hairstyles of the damned"
it's good. judging by your taste in music, it's sure to win you over. it got me obsessed with making mixed tapes (cd's rather) with messages for a long time.

and now i'll let you say goodbye to all my craziness. i'll probably read this tomorrow, and think, wtf, why did you write that andrea? well, it's a snap shot of me, right now, at this moment of writing.

i promise, next time, i'll be better.

all my love,


Hunger For The Great Light said...

I've been reading a lot of the comments on this entry and I can't help but be taken a-back by some of the things.
first of all, how many people think that the dresden dolls are beaking up just because you described why yourself and brian are taking a break.

ladies and gentlemen. bands take breaks. touring is HARD work. people don't seem to realize how hard it is. everyone thinks it's all music, travel, and good times. it's fucking stressful. i've never gone on a full tour, but i've been around. i can't imagine keeping the schedule that you guys did for about THREE YEARS. anyone would want a break after that. and god knows, you two deserve it. but when you guys are ready to hit the road, studio, or both again we'll all be egerly awaiting.

the other thing is the number of people that have brought up the drunk driving issue (and some have been quite unnecissarily harsh). come on. you/we're not her fucking mother. (except for her actual fucking mother to whom I now owe an apology. sorry.) everybody makes mistakes. i understand that you've probably been hurt by an act of drunk driving in some way. i have too. someone i know was killed when they were t-boned at an intersection by a drunk driver. but people make mistakes. i think amanda gets the point. getting a breathalizer is more than most people would even consider.

the other thing i noticed is, even with those couple little things, you really do have the greatest fans in the world. it's been said a million times over, but dresden dolls fans are incredible. all these people who take the time to read about what you think and feel, and then feel compelled to open up to you and eachother. it's a beautiful community.

that's all for my ranting. just thought some of those things were odd recurrences between comments.

Natalie Rose said...


I haven't been reading the MySpace comments or comments anywhere other than right here, so maybe I'm missing something. But from what I read here, I don't see anyone who thinks the band is breaking up, only people who are trying to address the idea of a void a person leaves-- which I think is something we can all relate to. Even if, as in this case, it's temporary. It's still a big adjustment, and some people just don't deal with change as well as others.

As far as the "drunk driving incident," my problem with people who drink and drive is said person getting behind the wheel is taking other people's lives into their hands and that's outright unacceptable. Amanda is not like that, we all know that, and she shows us that. Again, I'm only looking at comments here, but I haven't seen anyone be particularly egregious.

But, for what it's worth, a poem I wrote a few months ago (note: the following is based on actually events the majority of which took place in 1991; I was six.):

Out like a Lion

Barely March and it’s snowing. A wall of snow tumbles through the streetlamp light onto the car windshield in a way that reminds me of a dream I will not have for fourteen years where I am running through a palace made of coins while it is collapsing. The car backs into a curb.

I don’t know if my mother’s breath smells like the vodka she’s hidden at the back of the pantry, under the sink and in the freezer. I have never needed my nostrils to know when she’s drunk. In a few months, and for the next six years, she will be in and out of rehab. I will remember little more from those years than what I scrawl into a green diary with cats on the cover that Mom gives me when we visit her in Philadelphia.

Halfway home and I’m seeing sparks. “Mom…” “Shh!” Her S’s sound like slushees; the school sends me to speech therapy for the same symptom. Two sets of red and blue lights are chasing us. Metal scrapes against the asphalt where the rubber peeled off our tire like skin after a bad sunburn. Sparks are shooting up the side of the blue Chevy. Gripping the door handle, wide-eyed, I turn and see my mother. She is not panicking, nor screaming, nor wildly attempting to regain control of the car: she has her eyes closed. Her hands are together over the steering wheel and I hear her muttering to God that we make it home safely. Dear God, her eyes are closed.

I dash inside the house upon our miraculous return and leave her to handle the policemen alone. Mom comes in the house and marvels over the unopened pack of cigarettes that had been on the kitchen table all along. After this is all over, after the tire is replaced, after rehab, after years of repressed memories, Mom will not get falling down drunk like this again. She will, however, on most nights have a glass of wine with dinner and tell me how she’s not really an alcoholic anyway.

David said...

Guess a lot of your blog fans are insomniacs? What IS the deal with the timestamps on these blog entries anyway? What time zone are we?

But it IS nice that you take the time to post so thoughtfully and frequently and give us all the comfort and relief of knowing that driven artists are tortured by the same demons. And are victims of the same accidents that befall us ... broken wineglasses, computer trouble, parking tickets, blah blah blah. So thanks again for your recent entry.

Your words are so artful, creative, and revealing. Serial epiphanist- that's a good one. Sometimes I also make up words that ought to be ... now we have the internet to Google with and find that our invented word is not new at all. Last year the word "crapstack" popped into my head - I googled and found only a couple of hits- there was a blues musician named "Crapstack Jones" or some shit ... so I start trying to use it as much as possible to see if it could circulate. I work at a small northern new england college. Too small I guess. Time to invent a new word. Other people's malaprops are sometimes worth promoting, like "escape goat", "timberbox", "running the gamma", etc. We sound so dumb when we try to sound smart don't we?

You know in all my 50 years I've never been asked to do jury duty? My wife did it once and she liked it- federal jury, tax evasion case. Better pay and good lunches, and the satisfaction of seeing some greedy people sweat. I hope I don't ever have to ... going to meetings at work is bad enough. So Amanda, if you are NOT Bohemian, then who the fuck is??!! It's a nice compliment really, and you probably would not have had a great time listening to a rape case.

Good luck with your laptop (that's what I do for work- computer support- our students are always spilling shit on their laptops!) Glad that you got a new word out of the deal. Looks like another case of the universe lining shit up for you and your "responsibilities" or what ever you had intended to type! You might consider just forgetting the wineglasses and drinking right from the bottle. Or better yet, you can be like me and drink your stimulants and depressants from the same plastic travel mug. Like a sippee cup- tight fitting cover and all. When you spill your coffee in one of those you don't usually lose all of it, but you know it's a "harbringer" (another fun malaprop) of a bad day ...

Carry on Amanda!

Daimus said...

For surprise and for shame

Consciousness is such a happy trickster.
Dangling the carrot of forgiveness in front of the treadmill of suffering.
It's not so bad, we tell ourselves. Just a knee-jerk reaction. Primordial fear trapped in a neo-neanderthal cranium. We are confused between finding a deer to slay and a punchclock to validate more than the time, or a place, still edging forward. Peace is something to think about. Scheduled for next thursday, there's time to breathe then. My iron lung therapy.

But (never start a sentence with "but"), you can't make christmas come any sooner. Don't call for Santa, as you well know what you will get. An old man, trying to bring cheer to this world. A wife, some kids, some worry, a mortgage, the good times, the sad times, the end. A part of us all.

Then again, I too think sideways.

Chin up and shine, beautiful one

atonalruss said...

A "serial epiphanast"

I like that

Is "Guitar Hero" related in any way to that game my kids play daily on their PS2?

Be well.


Hunger For The Great Light said...

I wanted to apologize for the second comment I mad last night. I'd had an especially shitty night and may have overreacted to some of the things I read, and may have come across as more of an ass than I orriginaly intended.
Also, it broke the moral code of blogging. Another person's blog is not the place to rant and start shit. That should only be done on one's own blog. :)

Anyway, sorry.


Angel said...

This little blog world is truly amazing. I sit in my blog seat in front of my blog computer at my blog work and I blog read… and blog read… and rarely blog comment. I love your writing, rhyme, reason..blah blah blah – typical shit you hear all the time, I’m sure. I just want to thank you (and the people who recommended the books to you) for passing along great reads. Is there an Amanda Book Club out there? For those of you interested… I’ve just stumbled upon another blog that I am now addicted to girlwithaonetrackmind.blogspot.com. I just discovered it last week and have spent countless work hours reading… Similar to when I found this blog, I couldn’t stop… still can’t.

michelle said...


i must say that this whole situation between you and brian sort of saddens me. i look at his myspace, the pictures of him and humanwine, and i feel a little... jealous? it's hard to explain. i'm proud of him for working on other projects, for expanding his horizons, etc., but i feel he belongs in the dresden dolls. and i feel horrible just saying that. oh well oh well i will try to get over this.

i'm embarrassingly excited for your solo album. there are so many wonderful songs that never made it on the albums, and so many i'm sure i have yet to hear. i wish you all the luck in the world with putting this thing together.

oh, and because you like book recommendations, you should check out the history of love by nicole krauss. this is the only book that has managed to stay in my number one position for over a year. it is painfully perfect; i often find myself bursting into tears while laughing (or vice versa) while reading this book.

michelle said...


i just reread my previous comment, and i seemed a tad bit insane when i said that brian "belongs in the dresden dolls." obviously, i'm unconsciously thinking that, but i didn't mean to throw it out there for all to read. my apologies.

mandy said...

i believe ive formed an unhealthy addiction to your blog amanda, today i almost got fired for being extremely late because i couldnt tear myself from the screen. i honestly screamed the girliest lamest, you really dont have a life of your own do you? scream when you mentioned a solo album. then i laughed at myself as i imagine anyone would have if they were with me. please include everything! hmm and i also smiled at the mention of brian, ive always wondered how that story went but never looked into it because my imagination is so vividly romantic and depressing i made it up for myself? i agree that blogging proves a deeper connection and dedication that makes it easier to relate. thank-you for yours.

Beautiful_Wretched_Liar said...

PS: Your Blog must be a beacon for all artistic, musical, insane and brilliant people. Tonight I feel so connected with Andrea's comment. The Frustration of wanting to create and express what you invision and it getting totally fucked up. Also I just finished reading "Hairstyles of the Damned". Talk about reading something that corelates to your life..

Megan said...

Hey there, I'm a long time reader and never-writer-inner, so I guess the correct term is 'lurker'? But anyway, I came out of the woodwork to say: please be careful with drinking. You're one of my most favorite artists of all time and the amount of horrible suckage it would be if you got hurt over something as stupid as drinking and driving would be immeasurably bad. Full of bad badness (yeah, aren't my vocabulary skills awesome?). So please be careful.


Concerning the trial bit, heh. Wow. Because Bohemians totally can't keep their heads while on a jury trial, due to drinking absinthe and shouting 'Viva la Revolution' during the testimony. *rolls eyes*

Also, I know that this doesn't have anything to do with your blog post or anything, but I just wanted to say that your song 'The Gardener' that you perform live? GREATEST! SONG! EVER! I've been listening to the live-recorded mp3 of it for about 20394820389423 times in a row (not an exact number) and it's the most awesomely sinister song. If you at all listen to humble requests from fans, please please please record it for real so at least a few more people would have the chance to hear it? ...Why? Because it's AWESOME.

Oh, and also, the Backstabber videos are the greatest thing since penicillin. Especially the video about the tattoes, which was the one that I was watching when I had to literally stuff my arm in my mouth to keep my laughter from waking up my parents (it was about 3 am when I saw it on youtube). So so so so excellent!

Okay. Sorry for all the random praise. Hope you feel...I dunno...more grounded? More happy? Because your songs very often make me feel better when I'm having a bad day, so you should totally be like a font of happiness, if only because your work brings others joy.

/disturbing amounts of praise.

Sorry. Bye.

Erika said...

We should cellabrate the small things of life and not our huge achievements for they are what makes life worth living. Plus you'll get to cellabrate a whole lot more!!!!

(like watching people make a chocolate zuccini cake or finding a penny or fucking up a song completely but yet proudly and enuthiastically or finnially starting to reply to mail or something).

Len Tower Jr. said...


time doesn't just heal all wounds, but it also recharges one. the time that you and Brian have on break will bring you back to your friendship and joint work stronger. and with fresh thoughts and experiences that you each had by yourself, to share into the mix that the two of you are together.

i'm looking forward to seeing what you each do apart and together.

best -len

mdhatter said...

This is a link to a story about a breathalyzer cell phone.


just occurred to me I'd heard of such a thing.

Natalie Rose said...

I feel like Pandora's box... except significantly rounder. I've been such a comment whhhhore (witht he guttural, Yiddish "h" and all) the past few entries that I'm starting to think I should start a blog specifically for replies I feel compelled to make to your blog. It could be called, "I have no life so I'm emotionally projectile vomiting all over Amanda Palmer" or some such. I never realized that one could projectile vomit emotionally until just this moment.

I should've gone to bed nearly two hours ago, and there's absolutely no reason I haven't. In fact, as far as I can tell, the only reason I haven't it because I *know* I should've. Yay for Bennington, we have to do 7-week internships between the Fall and Spring terms. I'm in week 5 now of teaching 2nd graders in a New York public school. (I wanted to work with the music teacher specifically, but I'm happy for any classroom experience.) I don't think I've done any irreparable damage to any of the children, yet.

But, I'm terrible at getting up in the morning. Always have been. I'm so hopeless, I have an alarm clock for the deaf. It has a vibrating disc that either makes the whole bed vibrate, if you put it under the mattress, or feeling like a good morning punch in the face, if you put it under the pillow. No one in my family on either side is punctual. It's practically considered impolite to send birthday cards on time. Now, when it comes to class up at college, I'm never late unless it's an 8am class or something happened that was beyond my control. To work, though... it's a mental block. Classes rank higher than work in my mind, I suppose. And I tend to land jobs or positions where no one minds if I'm a few minutes late here or there.

My arrival times to my internship over the past 4 weeks:


The teacher I'm working with has to be in by 8:20am, but she told me I could come in at 8:30am. I try to aim somewhere between the two. The two weeks were fine and dandy... and then a pattern emerges where I start arriving later and later and later... Am I just pushing it just to see how far I can push it? I'm a hard worker, a really hard worker. Employers love me-- except I just can't seem to get anywhere on time, for fuck's sake.

So, I'm sick since the children are germ magnets. And I slept the better part of the evening after work, but I should've gone to bed by midnight so I could get up at 7am... but, now it's almost 2am and here I am doing... what? Continually checking my e-mail, looking at things I can't afford, listening to the television in the background, and feeling generally lousy. Oh, and being a comment whore.

And then, for some reason I bop over to Facebook and start looking through photo albums of me and Sasha. Why? WHY am I doing this? I really think dragging a blade across my face would be a better idea than looking at pictures of her/us right now. ...she's not as pretty as she used to be, suddenly. I guess that means I'm starting to fall out of love with her. It's funny, my physical perception of a person is entirely entangled with what I think of them as a person. A person can be physically gorgeous by whatever bullshit standards our society decides to impose on the lot of us, and I'll just shrug if I don't know anything about them. But, if I like or love a person, their imperfections only serve to make them more beautiful. Like Sasha, with her terribly crocked teeth, her tri-color hair that she hacked at and re-dyed every two months or so, her cankles... it only made her more lovely. But now... I don't know. It's such a subtle difference.

My lungs feel like they're on fire. Germ-infested, I think.

I don't know why this is pertinent, I don't know why I'm posting this or wasting your time...


It made sense to me earlier, how we're all here existing together, talking to each other, affecting each other. I read everyone else's comments and so do a lot of other people, so whether they realize it or not they're reaching someone...

I've thought for a long time that the problem with people in the world, especially in this country, that the reason that apathy runs so rampant is because everyone is under the impression that most things don't affect them.

And they're wrong. Most things affect most of us, especially when we don't realize it.

I've wanted to print up t-shirts, even, that simply said:

"This affects you."

lyrical lie said...

I read up until where you had to wait for AAA (they suck, my mom got a flat by the theatre that I usher at when she was bringing me to work and they gave her a hard time even though she's been a member for years), and that really sucks about your laptop. I've come close to spilling things on mine, and dropping it, but I haven't done it yet (thankfully). I did break my power cord, but I steal my dad's so I can use my laptop.

Be careful walking around, because you may forget about the glass, and step on it and hurt yourself.

That kind of sucks about jury duty. Too bohemian? What are they, stuck in like the nineties (I'm thinking of Rent right now)!

I'll read the rest of the entry and leave you another comment later, its 3am and I've been up since 8 because I had a 10:10 class.

eli said...

so glad you enjoyed Oracle Night, one of my all time favorite's- more on this later, first i must rant. you mentioned myspace. over the last few days. I've made about 20 attempts in about 100 different ways (don't think to hard about the math on that one) to respond to your blog. denied denied denied. so i tried your myspace account. but ofcourse you have to have a myspace account to comment on a myspace page. arghh! double-fucking arghh!those myspace motherfucker's set me up. crashed the computer (which was NOT my computer. an endless assault of typing absurd banner headings- Tr1pPy, juBil3e, 6onZo, 2pleNd1d, p4lm, frOnds and on and on till a soundless boom blackened the screen. crash bang boom, nothin'. so this leads me to one of two conclusions, 1: i'm a total idiot; or, 2: (which, although there is plenty of evidence supporting #1) i have a "something smells fishy" kinda funny feeling that in reality or, uh, unreality/surreality the computer just likes fucking with me. bastard machine. self-righteous, bastard machine. can a computer develope a borderline personality disorder? i think so. if not, then i seem to have accrued some seriously bad technological karma. a cyber-hex of some sort. or an even darker suspicion...possibly paranoid (but as kurt cobain said, "just because your paranoid, doesn't mean their not after you")that the computer is possessed of a malevolent spirit with cruel destinies in mind for me. even as i write this (and, sorry for you amanda- i'm just getting started)i can sense the machine's artificial mind (hear that you smarmy mechanical BASTARD! ARTIFICIAL i said! I'm of an ORGANIC MIND. O R G A N I C, see?! you treacherous, malignant, BASTARD monster!) hatching sinister and devious plots, it's bitter, envious eye winking sadistically as it says to itself, "keep typing, type type type type type! stay up till 4am fool! then sit in impotent astonishment as i crush your spirit like the meager, feeble twig it is! you hit PUBLISH? oh, so sorry, did i make your words dissappear!? abra-ka-dabra sucker." charming, how borderline's like to soak their passive-aggressiveness in sarcasm. ahhh- much better now. amanda, as regards your semi-reckless spending habits, i think you'll be just fine- you deserve to indulge your whims, or flagrant disregard for a busy-body meter maid's bureaucratically punitive, bullshit directives. or, as the Law would say, the law. but being a bohemian, you are thus exempt. funny, i just mailed in my jury duty form. i would love to be on a jury, gimme a real juicy case, something along the lines of a Sister Ray, or Burrough's and the William Tell act, or or or an Ellroy novel, bursting with sensational tabloid hutzpah! gimme Chandler maybe- yeah, a down-on-his-luck dick fell for a foxy dame turned double-dealing femme fatale, or wait, no...gimme genet, or kenneth anger and a couple'a sailors, roman candles spurtin' from swollen trousers, rode in on bike's to a bar called querelle, and left shanghaied- slipped a mickey and rolled for their two-bits. but what about a Bogart down on a bunk-o rap, or, or a dirty narco-copper caught with sticky fingers in a twinkie, foggin' the windows of the blue and white- oh lordy! but ofcourse my record will get me bounced faster than you can say bohemian.
pushing the limits- i know this well. i've settled down a bit but mention of the Gardner Museum brings back a memory of some MIT lab crystal mescaline and the massive amounts that spun my mind into some Brion Gysin-like dream-machine world where i couldn't really see anything in the museum because there were too many hallucinations in the way- vaguely remember getting home, late, and couldn't get the key into the door because of same problem, when i finally managed it the cat got out. a house cat. not an outdoors cat.a black cat in a big black night with no moon and he was on the loose and free for the first time in his short life and i was faced with the peculiar problem of having to find and catch the black cat in the black night using pure telepathy because all i could see was a shimmering kaleidescopic fantasia super-imposed 100 times over on itself, so i sat in the grass and closed my eyes and like you said, it's a beautiful thing when you only have to answer to yourself- and at that moment i was junior and junior was me and after a quieted my mind and asked, he answered with a purr, gently rumbling on my lap. but damn it if i couldn't still get that key into the door. but taking a good psychic cleansing and pushing it too far (in my case) with greater and greater "heroic dosages" led my parents to send me to various "professionals." they didn't understand that i just liked to see things move that don't normally move and especially liked turning my mundane surroundings into designs and patterns of my own creation. it was like this: they liked to give me meds. i tell them that i can't take anything that funtions as an SSRI, which almost all anti-depressant/anxiety's & mood stabalizers do, because they set off nightmarish hallucinations- visual and auditory- because off my long-involved history of hallucinogens of all kinds. i don't discriminate. but still they persist, writing out scripts and handing them to me...one script, two script, three script, four script- which i take and promptly eat. chewing slowly and deliberately, probably looking like i belonged in A Clockwork Orange. the looks on their faces were simply, priceless. except for one, a woman. who, in the middle of my performance, reached across the desk and slapped me silly, blasting the soggy-wad out of my mouth with all the pop of a potato-gun. sometimes being slapped silly is just what the Dr. ordered. we had sex afterward. on the floor. like two feral beasts. she kept saying i was making progress, but that i needed to "really push", i needed to "go farther" than i'd ever gone. "dig deeper" she said, "yes! yes! you're making real progress now! keep it up! you must go deeper though! deeper than you've ever gone!" she dug her vampiress nails into my face. her ponytail cactus plant fell off the desk. i was afraid. "don't be afraid, don't be scared now, keep it up!- up there! wait! no- not yet!" wilting under the pressure i thought about gilbert godfreid eating a corndog. worked like a charm. "that's it-...yes! we're close! we're almost there!" i had to up the ante- it was battle- concentrate! think! gilbert godfreid in a chicken-fried steak-eating competition with Sandra Bernhardht (sp?)- "good! yes- we're making a real breakthrough!" and sure enough, she was right. i had definitely broke. oh, glorious bitch in heaven. savior. I asked her what it all meant. she told me to shut up for once and gave me a cigarette. i asked her to burn me with a match. she looked curiously at me and said no. that was pushing it. after that, rather than wanting to snuggle and nibble each others earlobes- like my old babysitter used to like to do, while i watched Transformers and day dreamed about Rainbow Bright- she suprised me by reaching under her desk and removing a wooden baton, which she then beat me mercilessly with for what seemed like hours, but was probably days (sic). she didn't even stop when i cried, "uncle." this was my introduction to Reichean(sp?) therapy and we now had a standing appointment every tuesday after the office was officially closed. this way no one could hear my screams. not even me! not with the gag-ball firmly in place. she said it was cherry flavored, knowing that cherry's my favorite flavor, but it just tasted like plain old rubber to me. but i didn't complain. and later we drank cough syrup (which IS cherry flavored) that made us puke and float around the room on magic carpets. chasing each other. Bugs Bunny never had this much fun.

i'm sorry for my bad spelling and grammar, and there's something to be said for you if you finished this whole thing- god, i'm tired but before i stop i wanted to say thanks for introducing me to Lee or "uncle lee lee" as my stepmother knew him back in the Captain Graphic's days...but i wanted to let you know/invite you to the BIG event taking place in Lowell (born & raised)in March. They're bringing home the original scrolls Kerouac wrote On The Road with. excellent. In the past, Patti Smith (actually a couple times), William S. Burrough's & Thurston Moore have performed there (at lowell/kerouac festivals)along with many others also, my family does work for the Kerouac Foundation, and if you wanted a tour of J.K's old haunts (i read yr diary entry about The Beats and their influence on you- Kerouac & the beats have been an influence on me since about the 8th grade- ((reading Cursed From Birth- Billy Burroughs Jr., now))in 9th grade, I had to write a 3-5 pg. paper on a literary figure & of course i chose ole Jack, who my Papou(greek)- grandfather, once had to throw out of his Lounge, The Epicure, in Lowell for being obliterated and belligerent, trying to pay for a drink by swiping a tip a senator left as he excused himself to the john- ((i had to hide my frown when he told me this- bouncing Kerouac?))and in a bout of pure Kerouacian(sp?) Benzedrine mania wrote 33 pages & still wasn't done) if you so desire to (i know it was a long way back- we left off on the tour and scroll festival-getting sleeeepier, now)- i could get you all the tour info and see about arranging a private one. I tried to sign up for yr street team but the computer bamboozled me once again so i say, i say, i would love to be a part of the passing show, doing whatever i can to help out. It's not often that someone comes along embodying the energy, wit, intensity, vulnerability, strength and intelligence of a Patti S. mixed w/ a Grace Slick. yr the first real female rock star to come along in a long while in my opinion. So if there's an interest in any of the above maniacal ramblings at all you can contact me at

Jayjhis said...

I really enjoyed your blog, seriously, having nothing to do with you being that chick from that band (of course I admit that was the reason I clicked on the page in the first place...) but mostly I liked reading it (or a great deal of it anyway) just because you're one of those rare types that can be completely honest with yourself and unpretentious in your writing, even when that writing is public. Anyhow I guess I'm telling you this just because I found it pretty impressive and in a self centered way it reminded me of my own writing, the difference being, of course, that your status in the scheme of things gives people more of an ability to care what goes on in your little world. Uh... actually I really don't know where I'm going with all of this... cheers.

GeorgeKrz said...

just wanted to post this, saw Amanda's show with Sxip last night, here is what I wrote for another web site, this was written about 2am, also FYI Amanda mentioned her blog during the show and added a verse to the closing song, "You're not the only drunk behind the wheel" then I forget the second part:

I've just came back from Amanda Palmer's solo show as part of the Sxip Shirey revue at Joes Pub.

The bad news is as you may be aware Dresden Dolls might be on an indefinite hiatus break up thing. This you could gather from the blog. Tonight Amanda Palmer debuted 2 songs. She came on toward the end of the 2nd set and her show was as follows:

1. new song "Short History of Nearly Nothing" a very powerful and personal song, its like that love letter/breaking-up letter you wrote to your ex that you never send? well this is that letter in a song form. You could hear a pin drop when this was played.

2. "The Point of it All" this is the song thats on her myspace, great.

3. another new song- "Guitar Hero" a song inspired by the computer game and indirectly about the current war in Iraq. great performance, long song I guess about the dehumanization and brutality that is in the world right. It was just written last week and she said she was nervous playing it, first time played for an audience. how can you describe the power of the performance, toward the end I think Amanda teared up, an epic performance.

4. "Girl Anachronism", Sxip came out and called back Amanda for another song, and this was what he requested. Hard crashing piano as percussion playing and singing like you have blood in your throat is how Id describe it. Before she started this one she said it wouldnt sound as good without the drums., she made up for it. I love the kick off to this song too- "One, Two, Fuck, YOu"

Amanda also came back for the last song of the night, a sing along which went like this:
Baby Dee
The Song of Self Acceptance

(for crack whores, sexual predators, crabby policemen, and the incontinent)

I'm not the only pisspot in the house
I'm not the only pisspot in the house
And though I know I sometimes piss a lot
And even sometimes miss the pot
I'm not the only pisspot in the house

I'm not the only crack whore in the den
I'm not the only crack whore in the den
And though I may not know who's humpin me
At least I've got some company
I'm not the only crack whore in the den

You're not the only bugger on the prowl
You're not the only bugger on the prowl
And though we know you've got a checkered past
You're not the only pederast
You're not the only bugger on the prowl

You're not the only ****** on the force
You're not the only ****** on the force
We know you're different. It's all right
You're not the only sodomite
You're not the only ****** on the force.

the good news- the whole show was recorded on camera crew, so hopefully this footage will show up soon, somewhere...

Anonymous said...

Your story about your court date made me laugh, the u.s. legal system has got to be the most aligned bucket of the good ol boy trade that has ever been set to this planet. Its good to hear you got out of it though.

I just skip my dates, courthouses are one of the few things i am allergic to.

searchingfordirection said...

Hey, this is my first time on here. I have to say that after searching for I don't what...finding the music of the dresden dolls has left me...well, feeling. Feeling what, I'm not sure, but it's cool to feel again. Amanda, you are an inspiration to me. I hope to find some peace and solace through your words, rants and raves.

searchingfordirection said...

seeing if this is working?

Marciel said...

Hmmm... and all I can think to blog abuot is pooping. I live a sad life.


hey amanda,

i thought youd be interested to know that i am studying you for an english essay!

yea, abit weird.. i bet you never though a 14 year old scottish girl would be doing an "informative" english essay about you..

i s'pose it gives me an excuse to read your blog and be given funny looks for laughing outloud from my teachers and fellow piers.

everyone else is doing a football team (or soccer in america) or some slut like paris hilton.

i was also suprised to find out that my english teacher had actualy heard of The Dresden Dolls! her words were.. "oh yeah! The Dresden Dolls! My sister is obsessed with them!"

hopefully writing about you will give my essay more "bohemian"-ness. haha, only joking.

just think, YOU could help me pass my english exam!

anyway, i better go becuase my teachaer is giving me funny looks. .



the Kate said...

RE: hunger for the great light

Actually, I got a DUI last year, so I'm really just a hypocrite. But I haven't driven under the influence since the court sent me to watch movies of people getting their faces ripped off, etc. Granted, I've only had my license back for about a month, but my expectations are high.

David said...

as I listen to Yes Virginia on my way to work in the morning I think about your music and try to deconstruct it. I suck at deconstruction, however, and I'm not so great at construction either. But this ain't about me, it's about you. Or Brian. You sounded great together, but you can find another percussionist. Your music will continue to grow and evolve I hope, as it feels like it comes from very deep inside you, like poetry does. Find a different drummer doll.

Sleepy Alley Cat said...

So. You're going through a shitty time in your life? Or not so shitty... maybe just a time where you can't stand the happy songs, the ones you lived for in the summer time? A year ago I might say that its all going to be okay. Honestly, its getting hard. I want everything to be sparkly for you, and me, and everyone who's eyes have ever graced this page. But I look around and I watch everyone, and see what they're going through. You can't escape pain. If your not hurting, someone you love is, so your joy feels selfish, and thus meaningless. But then, the littlest thing happens... you hear a song that once made you dance, you look outside and the snow is falling, you drink a cup of coffee. You feel a little shove from back of you, a shove to look life in the eyes and actually live it. Its so hard.
On that not, the cd skipping metaphore hit me hard, though I'm not entierly sure why. It's like, at certain times in our lives, we hear a voice, whether it be the voice of a friend, a parent, an artist, what ever. It speaks to us, pulls us through, even gets our heads bopping. We think them profound, and put our stock in their promises, their advice. Some time passes, and with distance we realize that what they sang to us was a bullshit tune, banal, choppy, and a fluke in itself. We held that song so close to us for a time, we sang along and thought "Yes! Yes! They saw what I couldn't see, and, lucky me, they choose to share it!" and what do we have to show for it? We've been dupped.
I'm sorry to be such a downer. I want to give you hope, but I'm running low myself. I sorry about you and Brian baby. For once I'm not going to try and say something that will make it right, because I've come to realize it sounds so pathetic, hollow, and basically makes the situation worse. Just know that I see so much love for you in these comments. The fact that you take the time to discuss and make yourself real.... that's unheard of. Thank you.

Len Tower Jr. said...

to those writing papers about about amanda and The Dresden Dolls:

it be interesting if you post them somewhere on the web, perhaps in your own blog, so the rest of us can read them. most word processors let you save the file as plain text or html (the language web pages are most often written in) then cut-n-paste into the blog.

who knows, amanda might even link to them from a new papers "room" in http://dresdendolls.com/links/index.htm

best -len

searchingfordirection said...

Well, today was a day filled with decision making, having decisions made for me and your music. It just takes me to another place. Amanda, you are in my thoughts tonight. Here I sit, a three time divorced, 42 year old mother of two awesome boys...well one boy (6) and one young man (19). Josh whose 6 absolutely loves the music that you and Brian make, which I think is awesome. I just try to keep him listening to the songs that I don't want him repeating at school! I'm looking at my life and at yours and find myself wishing that I'd done things differently. But I am who I am and as I've learned I can't change the past, none of us can. I can only grow where I'm planted...that sucks sometimes. I was going to get another tattoo this morning and had to look at why I was getting another...my 11th. (Josh thinks I should tattoo my eyebrows like yours...I told him I would if he would too!) It seems that when I'm in some type of emotional pain, I run for the needle. Better that needle than the one I used to run to. I can't run to the bottle anymore as I've been sober for 9 years. So I run to the pain of the ink needle. Permenantly putting ink to skin...leaving lasting memories of people, places, pains and loves. My favourite is a fairy that is spinning plates...for I am the ultimate plate spinner. Some days I have so many plates up in the air I can't seem to manage them all...today is one of those days. An hour or two of physical pain seems to take me away from what's swirling in my mind. Today I thought of you and decided that I didn't need to get one...I had to sort out the swirling and I think I have somewhat. I don't want to hurt myself anymore...haven't hit any brick walls for years...only metaphorically speaking. Today is almost over and tomorrow is a new day.

I hope you are having a great time in the Big Apple...I ran away to New York when I was 16 years old...that city is awesome! I hope that you are feeling some peace and love tonight. I'm not sure why I feel such a connection to you and your music, but I do and I will try to not question why...just stay in it and let whatever is supposed to unfold happen. It's snowing in Toronto right now...maybe I'll take my swirling thoughts for a walk and try to find some peace myself.


Jack's Raging Mommy said...

I just found your diary today, after having listened to "Sing" at least five times, today being one of those days when I listen to beautiful sad songs over and over.
So thank you.

Stephen said...

'How Proust Can Change Your Life' by Alain de Botton: excellent, quick read.

Rhodes said...

Amanda, I made had to make this video for German class, I was on the Directing/Editing end of it, czech it out! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fno3nWl3C_E

Andreas said...

please drive safe in the future. also, i hope the retreat is nice. i never know what to say in a comment, though i always do want to comment. this is me working it out. i think that maybe responsibility is an elastic term. maybe you felt a greater responsibility to your readers than to your computer. though, i guess you couldn't really have one without the other.


it could also mean that you are going insane. we can never rule that out. hopefully not. it would make for some interesting blogs in the future assuming the medication didn't take away your motor functions.

this is me going waaaaaaaay off topic.

everyone has bad days or bad weeks or bad months and rarely bad years. i know i do. i'm glad you are able to think "shit, i need to tell EVERYONE." instead of "boo hoo my computer is broken."

sorry for the lack of clarity.

J0NN0 said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
J0NN0 said...

I saw you at the Reading Festival last year, and was amazed, I got the first album as a present for my brother, and have now borrowed it from him for some time.
I've been listening to the it in a different way than I have for any other album, there was a period where I listened to it every night at about 2-4am for about 8 days or something, and thats become a problem, not because I listen to it too much, or it took up too much time, but because I'm now anxious about getting the new album. I've avoided it entirely, the new songs, singles, even videos when browsing your live shows on Youtube. I think you've created one of my very favourite albums and I feel slightly reluctant to get the new album, as the first one was so perfect to me. If I ask a fan of course they'll say get it, its amazing, and thats why they are fans, but I just hope that it is as the first one was to me, amazing.
I think next weekend I'll be going out to buy it, because I do think that as who you are you couldn't create a bad album, I hope that it is as good, I think it will be, and am excited to hear the songs that'll be new to me. Its a little weird to have someone who's only gotten the first album spend the time to write a comment, but I just wanted to say, you made a near perfect album for me, and thank you. your songs really are amazing and mean a lot to me. I hope this post isn't taken as rude or insulting, as I have a great deal of respect for you both and have nothing bad to say.
I don't expect a reply, but I'll leave a myspace for you or anyone else who's reading this post. thank you



Tracy said...

I'm reading some of these long comments and feel badly that I don't have nearly as much to say as some of these other people. I don't mean to compete for the role of biggest fan, nor do I intend to discuss your posts as if we've been Bestest Friends Forever.

Hell, I haven't even listened to more than a few of your band's songs. But I liked what I heard. And I stumbled upon this blog after a few random clicks on the internet. And I liked what I read. So, I'm still listening when I find more songs, and I'm still reading when I find more posts.

I suppose I'm just commenting to say "hi."

...Hi. :)

Rudy said...

You probably know who they are, and have heard one thousand times as many bands as I ever will, but I just recalled your CD skipping incident as I was listening to Oval:

"Oval is an electronic music group founded in Germany in 1991... They are regarded as pioneers of glitch, a genre of music which simulates skipping audio. Disdaining the use of synthesizers, Oval instead deliberately mutilated CDs by writing on them with felt pens, then processed the palette of fragmented sounds to create a very rhythmic electronic style."

Confusion Say said...

I think you have some much to be grateful for. I mean you have the guts to do something with your talent that's so much more than most people do with their lives. Perhaps you're in a rut. You've been there done that, what's next? So you let yourself go, you don't care as much about things...you're no longer careful. But, I think that when we are at our lowest of lows that is when the best art is to be made. So I see you like painting and maybe you just need to branch off into something else for awhile.

I think you have so much spirit and that gives me inspiration, to do the things I am scared to do or when I think I am not good enough to do the things I like to do. I like your music because of the multiple layers....the sound, the lyrics, the way the instruments are used...they all convay the meaning of the song and it's just brilliant. I mean half of Norah Jones songs were written by someone else...I hate that when I find out an artists music is being written and produced for them....it's like where's the talent??...they are just a puppet. Original material and being yourself means more to me as an artist and listener. Also her voice is boring...I mean she isn't compelling to me....your voice has passion and I can feel the emotions pouring from your voice.

I've also noticed that a lot of people aren't capitalizing on their comments, wanting to be like you? Who can say, but people admire you and that is something that people would love to have, that's power and it's not to be wasted, and right now it's seems that your letting everything you have earned so far fall through the cracks. So stop being all woe is me and keep moving. I say if you want to be on the cover of Rolling Stone keep that picture in your head everyday, heck you have thousands of fans, so use the power, ask them to write an email to Rolling Stone and say Hey you need to feature The Dresden Dolls....what have you guys been smokin' that you have overlooked them for this long???

Just sayin'...........

the Kate said...

Sorry about the thousand comments from me this time, but I just wanted to say that the part where you listen to a CD skipping for fifteen minutes made me laugh out loud.

GeorgeKrz said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
GeorgeKrz said...

I dont really have a web page but post on a Tool fan message board and yes we have a thread devoted to our admiration for Dresden Dolls/Amanda Palmer. I think she is an artist that has that has appeal across generations or fans of different types of music, you know what I mean? I think the punk kids, metal heads, piano lounge, jazz people etc all find something special in her music. or at least some of us do.

Anyway, I dont know if im writing this for other fans to read or on the off chance that Amanda is reading this but her music touches a lot of people in a special way(obviously like she hasnt heard that before...), Ive been listening to music, going to concerts for well over 20 years, and the dolls are easily in the top 5 bands live Ive ever seen. I was fortunate to see them twice, first time last year at Bonnaroo, what a special show it was 2 thousand people clapping along to Port of Amsterdam it was a spine chilling moment for me, and the second time was at Lollapalooza. and now the solo show. I just feel greateful for having been there to see those shows, and really regret not catching the show in philly that they played back in october, or the shows in boston at the onion cellar.

also as far as punctuation, im one of those people who never left the house without the paper back of cummings 95 poems in the jacket pocket when I was in college, so forgive the punctuation, that and Im a bit lazy...

oh and amanda is my first myspace friend, other than tom, thanks!

sorry for the delete, can we edit posts here? cant figure it out...

Amanda said...

managing to stay within the scary grey area of not drunk but fuzzy enough that you question your own questioning and then turn round and question that.
This is where I managed to stay Saturday night. I was a mumbling idiot. Thank God for my friend Sydnie, who drove my ass back to her house to take care of me. I kept telling her that I love her and that she is my favorite. I wasn't lying.
Amanda, I'm sorry that you miss Brian. That HAS to be hard to be away from him. It's all for the better, but you'll be great together again after your break from each other.
I'm very excited for the Solo cd. I've been getting downloads from various places of you solo, but i'd like to hear it all beautifully mixed.
Have fun in France. I'm fucking Jealous.
My friend Phil just gave me all of his solo stuff. It's basically the most beautiful album I've ever been handed. He's just starting out, even though he wrote most of the songs on the album himself, and covered a few, it's a masterpiece. He's a huge fan of you and Ben Folds.
I love being able to see one of my best friends becoming an artist like you. He's gonna be big someday, i'm sure. He named his cd "Speaker of the Dead" if that means anything to you. I'm not sure why i'm posting this. I know you read all of these, but, it's trivial, and i'm sorry for rambling.
Thank you for explaining your total lack of caps. My friend Mandy hates it. It annoys the crap out of her, she's pretty anal, so i usually just recount what i read to her.
Your blogs are beautiful, interesting, and make me happier than none other.
Thank You Amanda

Julia said...

I've never really posted a comment on the blog of a person I've never met or talked to before, but I enjoy your music so much that I just had to. I was introduced to The Dresden Dolls by my minor obsession with The Hush Sound. Dresden Dolls has now taken over as my most frequently recommended band. One of the main things that pulls me through the drudgery of high school is singing the lyrics to Girl Anachronism and Mandy Goes to Med School very loudly with my friend Katherine (who happens to be equally in drenched in your music)and watching the looks we get from various teachers when we say in unison "Please excuse her for the day, it's just the way the medication makes her." and then break into song/head banging again. Needless to say it's fun to stir up the calm repetitive nothingness that is small town maritime New Brunswick. Speaking of which, since Katherine and I and the rest of your fans that we've recruited, we were wondering if you'd ever consider sometime doing another tour with The Hush Sound, or even just coming to Canada would be awesome! (it doesn't really matter where in Canada, we're all looking for an excuse for a road trip anyway)
Anyways, just wanted to say that Katherine and I are looking forward to your next album with much anticipation, and that if you ever need a tour around the Hell that's known as Oromocto (/fredericton) New Brunswick Canada, we'll gladly respond XD

Julia K.
15, Canada

L said...

The easiest way to get out of jury duty is to appear too intelligent... Twelve of your peers, my arse...

Both Tool and Muse played here on Sunday night, and I drank them in with forty thousand of my closest friends... The Dresden Dolls MUST come and play the Big Day Out festivals down here sometime...

Oh, and they've banned public smoking in France... [/non sequitur]


roxy said...

go out and but a HUGE box of brownie mix...cook the brownies...take a nice bubble (witht hose fizzy things haha) and just relax.... then go out and just hand people brownies....and dont let a cute one slip away(guy) with out your number/email whatev....

Pragmatic said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
bubs215 said...

thank you for your words, your smile, your voice, your ability to open up to us...its appreciated..

anonsense said...

I'd llke to say sorry bout u and Brian but anyway....
I can completely relate to what you said in your last blog ( or whihever it was) about the whole fair thing in your garden. I'm a bit like that. I don't act on my imagined things but i'm constantly thinking about them.
I don't daydream so much..that i'd say is pretty aimless thoughs create dout of boredom. I actually have @scenes@ i think out over and over again. It's like a seperate life i lead. Iand like the screwed up shit i am in my daydream/ other life imagination things i think up problems which happen to me... just to make it that bit more real.
I have a whole different group of friends, a different social life and this imagined life barely overlaps with my real one.
A while bck i constantly felt shitty... i'd stopped self harming at this point ( there are only so many cuts you can hide and so many staples you can shove in your hand) and i actually planned out time to just think out this other life. How messed up is that. And its not even like i have no friends.. i have a great group of friends , i just feel disconnected sometimes.
But anyway this isnt really anyhting like the whole fair circus thing but im not wasting all this typing. So i'll finish by saying thanks for some great music that isn't @sappy songs about sex an cheating@ ect and isntt cliched. I love it.

Jose Ramon said...


Jose Ramon said...

Very small pretty Stella my single one I hope every day the night for verte to shine in the immensity of the single dark sky I dream to you and dream and I do not want to wake up but I wake up to me not to get tired of you and to see the dawn and to return to hope that the night passes the day hoping and to you ... lazy ass :( amanda and brian electric kizzzzezzz =****

June Miller said...

The waiting room for jury duty--you know, the one where you have to fucking sit there for however long they need you to and you have NO FUCKING THING to do the whole time--is truly hell on earth. A lot of people believe it's the DMV, but I'd have to disagree.


People make mistakes. That's all there is to it. The key is to notice what's wrong and correct it; you're doing that. That breathalyser is a wise investment.

Just keep safe from now on. Please.

I kind of envy how busy your life is. No, not how busy it is. How...clear it is? Your next few months are all mapped out and all that, but mine are all hazy and unclear. It's a big ol' clusterfuck of uncertainties. I don't know what's going to happen in the next six months. It's almost scary. I'll just work through whatever happens, I suppose. Yeah.

Well...I am seeing George Clinton next month, though. That's something cool to look forward to.

I like knowing what you have to say and what's on your mind. That's pretty much why I read and reply to this thing. I'm pretty sure that's why everyone else does, too. It's not much of a burden to sit my ass down and read into whatever it is you're saying, honestly.

Len Tower Jr. said...


you're, in truth and fact, a muse. Brian is definitely a drummer's muse, but you're a complex 21st century mix of most of the renaissance muses:

Calliope, Euterpe, Clio, Erato, Melpomene, Polyhymnia, Terpsichore, and Thalia.

Not so sure of Urania . . .










but definitely Bohemia is in the mix!

enjoy -len

Maarika said...

Even if you weren't Amanda Palmer.
Even if you weren't in the Dresden Dolls.
Even if I had never seen you on stage or listened to your music.

I would still be struck speechless by your ability to write.

-lady m.

kreig said...

okay if yoyre really amanda from the desden dolls, why dont you talk about brian at all

utterly utter said...

i think that in normal life you can become detached from what music really does. its about those intense moments of feeling so absolutely connected to the world - to some big fountain of creative energy that's bigger than you can quite comprehend. music, and all truly passionate performance, is about that incredible feeling as far as i can tell.

i think it's one of the most beautiful and worthwhile things to dedicate your life to.

don't let loneliness overwhelm you.


Lara said...

a great book - 'Courage' by Osho.

Heather said...

If your computer is still broken by the time you read this, I wanted to offer a bit of advice. If you take it to Tech Superpowers on Newbury Street (262 is the address, I think, but it's almost 5 am so I could be wrong in my brain) and have the Apple warranty, they'll fix it for free. I know because they've saved my life (and my Powerbook) on three separate occasions recently. Apple likes to sell you expensive pretty machines and warranties that are deceptive; i.e. "accidental damage" is not covered, so they'll only fix it if there's something defective in the hardware. If you drop it (like me) or attack it with a wine glass (like you), they'll try to charge you up the wazoo for repairs. But since Tech Superpowers is an independent place, they're certified to fix Apple products (except iPods, I think) and can just neglect to tell Apple how the damage was done. A damage assessment at the Apple store tried to charge me $1000 to fix my laptop (oh what a stressful day that was).... But yeah. Just thought I'd pass the info along, knowing we live in the same area. I'm sure you're not strapped for cash the way I am (yay college studentcy... that's not a word, is it? oh well), but why give a corporate monster like Apple (although I shall always love their products like my children just for being so pretty... sigh) more unnecessary money? There's no reason.

I hope this actually makes sense. My brain is dead. I was going to sleep, but then I discovered and read your blog instead. I think the internet breeds insomnia, really... 5 am. I'm stopping now.


Gehirnvampir said...

Hey beautiful!

It´s nice to hear something about you and Brian here finally... but so unusual I had to pick up my jaw from the keyboard... especially because of the strange ambivalence of your words.

What always amazes me is the UN -FUCKING - BELIEVABLE energy that´s humming between you two when you´re on stage. NEVER EVER before have I been allowed to witness such an amount of intense erotic and.... hm, loaded tension. It´s hard to express. But only from what I saw and felt those times I saw you there... it was like being witness of something extremely intimate and unbelievably special. Some unique relationship which is intense but through its intensity everything but easy...

But nonetheless rewarding. I have no doubt about that. But who am I to judge?

AND YOU ARE REALLY READING THIS NOW???????? Man... this is so coooooool! *childlikehappiness*

So when are you coming back to Germany/Franconia to honour/convert (no idea which translation is correct) your voucher?! Can you even remember...? Do you still have it? A clue... you have been given it in Munich.

Ah, stupid, naive fans.

Would it help me if I pretended to be some attractive, male fan...? ;-)


What else can I say?

Ah, I´ll recommend a book again:

ORYX & CRAKE by Margaret Atwood.... it´s just.... WOW!

Let me finish with a poem by Douglas Dunn.

A Removal from Terry Street

On a squeaking cart, they push the usual stuff,
A mattress, bed ends, cups, carpets, chairs,
Four paperback westerns. Two whistling youths
In surplus US Army battle-jackets
Remove their sister’s goods. Her husband
Follows, carrying on his shoulders the son
Whose mischief we are glad to see removed,
And pushing, of all things, a lawnmower.
There is no grass in Terry Street. The worms
Come up cracks in concrete yards in moonlight.
That man, I wish him well. I wish him grass.

I wish you grass, too.



mdhatter said...

I just happened across your performance from the Kimmel show in 06.


You appear to be on fucking fire.

Sara said...

New album? What is this I hear?

Little alleluiahs flowing from your lips, that's what I hear.

Err, your fingertips.

MoosiqueBrulante said...

Dear Amanda,
Damn. You are SO fucking AWESOME. I finally discovered your blog tonight and it put me in the best mood! It's like reading something that makes you realize that people are actually..wonderful, rather than the godawful bastards so many of us appear to be. Haha..
Anyway, I really want you to know how much you've done for me. In elementary school, I played the violin. I was pretty bad at it, so I ended up hating it. It seemed like EVERYONE had some magical ability to do better than me..
But I love music.
In middle school, I went through a transition of country music in 6th grade, to Marilyn Manson (a genre in his own to me at the time)in 8th grade. Then I heard "Coin-Operated Boy" on the radio one day..I cracked up and fell in love with it.
About a year or two later, I went to one of your concerts for the first time with my friend Liza(ard). Day on the Meadow, San Jose. SO BEAUTIFUL. That was just last summer..I met you!..For about 30 seconds..Lizard gave you some of her jewlery, a bracelet I think..She was SO HAPPY. We're both kind of in love with you guys. (And just so you know, even if you two aren't together, you are both the epitome of everything beautiful and everything sexy). MRAOWR..so much fabulous moosique..
Anyway, after I saw your show last summer, I finally took up the violin again. After years of being absolutely obsessed with music, I can finally make some myself.
I abso-fucking-lutely LOVE it. And honestly, I give The Dresden Dolls full credit for that. If I hadn't seen you two in concert that day, I don't know if I would ever have discovered music again like this...It's just..every time I see you or hear you sing, I feel like there's something SO beautiful there. And seeing you in real life just woke me up to the extent that I borrowed my Grandma's violin from my aunt, and am now learning the best things ever..
Basically, I want to thank you for bringing music into my life for real.
P.S. I second the suggestion that you read "House of Leaves" by Mark Danielewski (I think that's the name). I've read it twice now, and each time it made me cry and kept some sort of extra intensity in my thoughts for months.

Oh god. How wonderful this world.
Wow, almost forgot, I wrote this as my buddy profile on AIM like 2 hours before I discovered your blog, and I'd love if you read it.
"I am in love
My lover goes by the name of Music.
Such a sweet romance..

I am in love with the insanity of Slash's electric guitar, the magnificent beauty of Itzhak Perlman's violin singing with all its being, Amanda Palmer's schizophrenic piano, and let us not forget her gorgeous voice of brilliance. Her partner, Brian Viglione and his perfectly timed drum beats and clangs! Vocals of all things wild and beautiful, heart-wrenching, howling, screaming, passionate love streaming through the speakers as Axle Rose sings. And then the rythm in the background, the beat that makes the whole house shake,coupled with the splendid voices that make me shake.
How good, this moosique.
I'm in such a good mood..
How good, indeed."
(Sorry for the super long comment, I got excited).
So ya, heh, for the second time,

terenzio said...

Amanda,ma come diavolo fotografi?
Sei messa peggio di me...
Ricordati di avvisarmi quando decidi di venire in Italia o Austria,ti ospito io senza problemi.
Niente complimenti,non sono un leccaculo invasato ..pero'ammetto che mi piaci..appena posso ti mando qualche foto del Nord Est


sexy said...