 I made an audio documentary called Sealed a few years back as part of my Master of Arts degree. It chronicled the divorce of my parents and the effect it had on me and my siblings. It was the most cathartic creative project of my life so far.
The original was a little over 22 minutes, cut from roughly a dozen hours of recorded material. I am now applying for my MFA and have to select work for my creative portfolio submission. Since I can submit no more than 15 minutes, I was determined to get Sealed down to 10 minutes or less to keep room for other work. Editor friends, you know shaving a full 12 minutes off a finished piece is a FEAT. BUT I DID IT. Running time: 9:55. Listen below! The MFA is a terminal degree in my field (in other words, the credential I need to seek tenure-track professorships). My MA degree shaves 24 credits off the program, so if I get accepted... I will be able to graduate in five semesters. BAM. THE SUNDAY SOUND: January 26, Sealed, the condensed cut. Original cut and my research on the effects of divorce on children available here.
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While Brian and I were visiting our families in El Paso, we took a day trip to Carlsbad Caverns. We spent roughly six hours exploring the cave, hiking down through the natural entrance. There was NOT ONE SOUL on the trail besides us; could not be more ideal. We stopped about halfway down and recorded the cave's breathing (yes, it actually breathes; there are only two natural entrances, no oxygen is pumped in, and the cave descends roughly 1,000 feet). We captured the faint sound of water droplets that, over millions of years, create the breathtaking structures you see below. THE SUNDAY SOUND: January 19, From the Depths of Carlsbad Caverns.
Listen in pitch blackness while looking through the photos above; it will be just like you're there!  Today is the 29th birthday of my smart, talented, striking friend, Mariya. Her darling husband Zach organized a sushi night in her honor, and here we are at Cafe Sushi, just outside Harvard Square. Mariya is one of my favorite people and I am so happy she was born!
Always sentimental, I fondly recalled my own husband-organized 29th birthday celebration in June. BINGO at Saint Joseph's and Mexican food at El Potro in Union Square (he knows me so well). And you know what? I realized with horror that I never shared my recording of the very special birthday tune sung to me at El Potro. That was six months ago! So, in honor of Mariya and 29th birthdays old and new, I now present a special Mexican birthday brought to you by Mariachi Estampa de America (you NEED to see their website). And, of course, the recording includes evidence of my undying enthusiasm. Side note(s): 1. I am OBSESSED with mariachis. I wanted mariachis at my wedding, but didn't have the cash flow. 2. I really want an authentic mariachi outfit. I would rock the hell out of that thing! 3. My friend Lisa (who has known me for over a year) thought I was half Mexican. IT WAS MY PROUDEST MOMENT. THE SUNDAY SOUND: January 5, A Mariachi Serenade. To really capture the moment, listen while looking at these photos: 29th Birthday Weekend.  Merry Christmas, one and all. Brian and I have had the perfect holiday break so far, consisting mostly of good food and a good couch. Perhaps our most significant accomplishment? Watching the entire Harry Potter film collection from beginning to end. Odd to witness Harry, Ron and Hermione experience all awkward stages of puberty within a week.
Another holiday accomplishment? Co-creating a digital Christmas card for each member of our family. Brian handled the shooting and video editing, so the bulk of the credit goes to him. However, it started as my brainchild, so I retain at least a small percentage of the creative rights. Today's sonic snack is the tune we performed to accompany the Christmas images Brian captured around our home. I set up a mic stand in the living room and we DID. IT. UP. We should make an album. THE SUNDAY SOUND: December 29, Family Christmas Card. I somehow forget the words to Jingle Bells. Classic.  Brian's Christmas gift came early this year--Dinosaur Jr. tickets. They were playing two nights in a row at The Sinclair, a small venue in Harvard Square. The Sunday night show afforded us a great place on the mezzanine balcony, right above the sound engineer. Direct, straight-ahead view. No one in front of us. Truly magical. To the delight of live audiences everywhere, Dinosaur Jr. plays at epic sound levels (note what's behind J Mascis in this photo). A measly little iPhone couldn't dream of capturing the magic for you, so you'll need to use your imagination to supplement your listening experience of Dinosaur Jr. covering The Cure's Just Like Heaven. THE SUNDAY SOUND: December 22, Dinosaur Jr. Check out the studio versions of Just Like Heaven: The Cure and Dinosaur Jr.  And what is this?! A SUNDAY SOUND BONUS! I have to share a clip from the opening act, Brooklyn-based Call of the Wild (Kemado Records).... a special treat for those of you who are enchanted by punk metal guitar solos and drumming so intense your insides quake.
ALSO. THE DRUMMER IS THE MOST BADASS FEMALE I HAVE EVER WITNESSED. Seriously, her guns were blowing my mind. I could not believe the sexy hard core drummer was, wait a second... what?... a GIRL?!?! Men want her and women want to be her (and want her!). Allison Busch, ladies and gentlemen. THE SUNDAY SOUND (BONUS!): December 22, Call of the Wild.  My co-worker John-Albert invited me to the annual Messiah sing-along at the Cathedral Church of St. Paul in Boston. It was conveniently scheduled right around lunchtime on Wednesday.
I am only vaguely familiar with Handel's Messiah, so I mostly observed. HOWEVER, once we got to the Hallelujah chorus, I sang out like I was in high school again (a.k.a. the last time I sang the Hallelujah chorus). Gotta say, I remember being much better at it. THE SUNDAY SOUND: December 15, The Hallelujah Chorus. As far as performances of the Hallelujah chorus go, you could do better.  Paris. One of few places that live up to the hype.
Brian took me to Paris in August, making good on a promise he made on our very first date. We stayed in Le Marais, a historic district just a stroll away from the breathtaking Notre Dame de Paris (my life was forever changed because of this building). On one of our walks, we passed a Parisian gentleman expertly playing what looks like a lute. Listening to it tonight was, in some ways, even more powerful than the first time. His music became the accompaniment for
THE SUNDAY SOUND: December 8, The Sound of Paris. For more photos from our trip, check out my Paris Flickr set. For Brian, who deals with my sickness (in whatever form it takes)... Moist wads of toilet paper litter the wood-paneled floors can't afford Kleenex Tiny plastic pods hastily opened to release the so-you-can-rest medicine new accessories to every flat surface Skin rubbed raw by Charmin burning with the slow drip of dislodged congestion Day-time means eyes smothered by tiny shards of glass too proud to wear the thick plastic frames reserved for the safety of home Pain Ache Fever won't break And still, the worst of it is not being able to smell you in the morning. Yesterday afternoon was dedicated to a writing workshop hosted by Deja Earley Ruddick and Lisa Van Orman Hadley. I have never really written, per se... all my projects come out of the editing process. I never start with a blank page (or blank Pro Tools session, to be more accurate). Instead, I start with a big chunk of sound and chop away at it until the beauty hidden within appears. As I said in the workshop, my only experience with writing, as it is most commonly understood, is sad adolescent attempts at writing lyrics (to make use of my singing voice and emo heart)... everything terrible and full of cliché. At the end of the workshop, we were challenged to write a poem. To not worry about it being terrible or full of cliché. To just write. And then share this initial attempt with everyone present, of course. I ended up with what you see above, with a couple edits (one suggested by Deja; thank you, ma'am). THE SUNDAY SOUND: February 3, My first foray into poetry: the audible version. For those following along in an RSS reader, click through to the original post to hear today's piece.  Were any of you really enthused about The Wiseawesome Series back when I was doing it in MAY?! Seriously. MAY. And now it is February. GUYS. It is hard to accomplish something creative/funny/artistic when you don't feel at all creative/funny/artistic. I lost it somewhere, but I have recently felt the tiniest spark. I miss creating things, even if they are ridiculous. So, to get back in the game, I am finishing a series I started but never finished (starting something and not finishing it is FAR from normal for me, so I feel compelled to tie up the loose ends. The Gratitude Challenge is next!). Because of this recent dearth of activity, my husband won't let me leave the house until I do a post. So, I am currently a prisoner in my own home. But I must admit it is one of those "for your own good" situations. As I went through the audio of the original interview with Tommy, there was so much I wanted to share (life advice! philosophical musings! patriotism!). After much struggle, I decided to complete this series (NEARLY NINE MONTHS LATER) by highlighting the impressive non-verbal communication for which Tommy Wiseau is famous. Enjoy. THE (Saturday) SOUND: February 2, The Wiseawesome Series, Part 5. For those following along in an RSS reader, click through to the original post to hear today's piece.   Me and B rockin' Marginal Way. As Brian and I crossed the border into Maine, the welcome sign informed us that Maine holds the key to "the way life should be." To which my lovely husband replied, "F*** you, Maine! You can't tell me how to live!" I'm sure you can see why we got married. We decided to spend our Saturday in Ogunquit, Maine, a "Beautiful Place by the Sea." Brian was a bit leery of being surrounded on all sides by geriatric white people (with the exception of a geriatric version of Arsenio Hall), but on the whole, it was an absolutely stunning town. We walked up and down Marginal Way, a footpath which connects Perkins Cove to Ogunquit Beach and spans a little more than a mile of rocky Atlantic coastline. (Though the video quality is rough [iPhone couldn't keep up!], I captured a few seconds of the kind of stuff we were looking at. Check it out.) Somewhere along the way, I decided to record some ocean sounds (because what is at all stereotypical about that?!). Soon after I pressed RECORD, the stormy New England weather reminded Brian of the tsunamis in Southeast Asia. I had never before seen the horrifying footage of these natural disasters, but we later found this video: 2004 Boxing Day Tsunami. I suppose it's a bit discordant to include something so tragic in my post about our quaint little day trip, but isn't it amazing that something so gorgeously tranquil can simultaneously be so ragingly destructive? THE SUNDAY SOUND: September 9, Tsunami Talk in Ogunquit. For those following along in an RSS reader, click through to the original post to hear today's piece.  |