Oh, money. That old chestnut. When someone close to you dies, sometimes you get money, sometimes you lose money. In our case we're losing it, then getting it, then losing it, then hopefully getting it. Time will tell.

Of course, we're lucky to get anything at all. There was a time during our estrangement mom wrote us out of her will. Not saying it to paint her or us as a villain - it's just what happened. We never expected to receive a dime after that whole mess. But here we are, beneficiaries 1 & 2.

A stubborn woman with brain cancer and a debit card is a dangerous thing. Toward the end, mom let me take over paying bills, but that didn't mean I got to regulate her trips to Walmart. I'd have to remind myself...Mom earned every cent of this money. If she wants to use it to buy 6 million trash bags per week, so be it. Up until then, mom was on top of it with spending. Not a penny unaccounted for. As the cancer and confusion took over, the funds in her account dwindled, and it broke my heart to watch. With every swipe at the cash register, she felt in control again for just one moment. It didn't matter that the identical contents of her shoppping cart were already mirrored at least 2-3 times over in her cupboards at home. It didn't matter because she didn't remember.

I started to worry that mom would outlive her checking account. Haley and I certainly didn't have the money to cover her expenses, and I couldn't imagine her being willing to live with me and Audrie in San Diego. (Could you imagine? That sounds like a sitcom..or drama, not sure). When I tried to broach the subject, she got SUPER offended. I think she thought I wanted that money for myself, which hurt my feelings a lot. We did it up until the very end - hurt each other's feelings without trying.

When I brought up my concerns with the rest of the family, they reminded me that mom outliving her savings probably wasn't a real concern. She probably doesn't have a lot of time left. But...what if she does keep living? my hopeful inner 7-year-old asked with a pleading whimper. I mean, she could keep living, right? She is the strongest woman I know. She will outlive you and me and money and cancer and time and she will be the last soul standing. Right?

Wrong.

We continued to pay mom's mortgage and related expenses with the remaining money in her checking account. That money is gone now. We paid for the funeral with our credit cards, and we're still paying that off. We practically had to wrestle her retirement money from "the man" - I think I might be on a watch list after that debacle. I didn't know I could unleash such rage on strangers over the telephone. As of now, what wasn't taxed from that money is going right back into paying the aformentioned mortage and related expenses while mom's condo is tied up in probate court. (By the way, what even IS probate court besides a way for lawyers to make money off of human sorrow?) After that, it will go to lawyer fees, property taxes, realtors and whoever else comes with their hands out. Thank GOD for that retirement money. There's no way we could have absorbed mom's expenses on our own without making drastic changes (ie moving back in with dad).

We are lucky, no question. The light at the end of the tunnel is that maybe, just maybe, when all this stuff is taken care of, Audrie and I might be in a position to put a downpayment on a home of our own, or cover the costs of baby-making for lesbians (turns out not having a penis makes this process very expensive). Thinking of those moments gives me a little hope and a lot of gratitude...

...And also a heaping shit-ton of guilt because a) I sometimes don't feel I deserve to be mom's beneficiary at all, and b) I'm not sure mom would have wanted to fund my lesbian family starter kit.)

...But mostly a heaping shit-ton of sadness because taking those steps in  my life will mean saying goodbye to my mom's condo - the only piece of this planet that still looks, feels, and smells like her.

For the sake of being honest (at the risk of sounding ungrateful), I am mostly just exhausted and stressed out by all of it. I want it to be over, and I want my mom back, and I would like to reclaim the space in my brain and the time in my life that is being swallowed up by worrying about money. 

Add to that, for the first time in ten years, my job is in jeopardy. As various company owners negotiate and play a chess game with the livelihoods of myself and my colleagues, all I can do is wait and hope for the best. This source of income has been the one steady factor in my adult life, and now it hangs in the balance. It's an eye-opening reminder that nothing is guaranteed or permanent.

Add to that, the fact I'm leaving on tour in a week. In past years, I've been able to fundraise prior to tour. It wasn't much, but starting a tour with several grand in the bank to cover the costs of gas, food, lodging, etc. is comforting. With mom dying, I simply couldn't make myself exert the extra energy to come up with a creative fundraiser.

Maybe I should have cancelled the whole thing, but it's too late now. I'm at the top of the roller coaster, it's about to drop, and I'm thinking OH SHIT² not only because it's about to be a scary ride, but also because it's a ride I probably shouldn't have snuck onto in the first place. 

For this reason (and for a lot of other reasons that have to do with believing in the value of art and the importance of genuine connection with people) I launched a Patreon page for all those people out there who believe in me and remind me to believe in myself. So far, only three takers, but I already feel a deeper connection with them, and that is the whole point. Are you one of these people? If so, hope you'll get on the ride too. Being scared is less scary when you're surrounded by people who love you.  

​lyrics:

i've got a friend who thinks she's Jesus
but only when she's starting to climb
if you take away the storm she's braving
i think she does enough saving on her own time
she don't need the divine

i've got a friend simply known as V to us
she gives music away for the joy that it brings
she lives beautiful verse after verse 
and sometimes that chorus can hurt
but she's gonna play anyway
she's gonna sing

she's got a friend who'll stand in her corner
round after round swing after swing
i've seen some scary shit 
but i'm not afraid of it
cause she gave that gift to me

i'm in a band with my friend veronica
sometimes she's in command 
sometimes i tow the line
so V i'm gonna wait for you
in every single waiting room
i don't care how many times
cause time always takes time

i've got a friend
and she's got me

Hey peeps! Just updated my LWYT playlist on Soundcloud with a bunch of rough mp3s available for streaming and download. Something to hold you over while I work on my new solo album! Let me know what you think or if any song in particular resonates with you!

Woke up this morning and wanted to play but didn't feel like writing. So this happened. Can someone find me a castle to dance in?

As most of you know, I've been struggling to process the difficult relationship I have with my mother in the context of her battle with brain cancer. I woke up this morning and the words to this song just fell out. I wouldn't normally choose to write a song alluding to tourniquets since that's been done about a zillion times before but this particular song didn't really come from my own brain as much as it did my subconscious so I felt it was important to deliver in spite of the cliche. I wanted the song to be relatable from all aspects of the situation- from both my perspective as well as my mother's. 

Okay, so no one asked me to write a review on Kaaboo’s inaugural weekend at the Del Mar Fairgrounds, but I done did it anyway. This festival came at a weird time for me. On the eve of Day 1, I found myself in my hometown of Corcoran, CA blubbering my way through “I’ll Fly Away” in front of a packed church during my grandfather’s funeral. It was the third time in three weeks I’d made the drive home during his failing health, traveling back and forth to San Diego to catch up on work and fulfill music gigs. I hadn’t slept in what felt like months, I hadn’t spent time with my fiancee Audrie in what felt like years, and the only smiling I can recall in what felt like a lifetime was during a delirious moment in my father’s kitchen where my sister and I were having separate but simultaneous conversations with ourselves. If you ever wondered what a hot mess looks like, it’s this:

I contemplated staying in this position for the rest of the weekend despite the fact that two 3-day Kaaboo general admission passes were burning a hole in my pocket. Seriously, I think they burnt an actual hole in my pocket because there is absolutely no money there now that it’s all over. Even more than the horrifying thought of losing money I’d already spent, here’s what made me wake up at the dawn’s early light, peel my grief-stricken ass up off the ground, and drive 6 hours to opening day at Kaaboo: It was time to have a good time. And I had a great fucking time.

No Doubt: This show was a long time coming for me. A looooooong time coming. When I was a freshman in high school, No Doubt rolled through Fresno. I can still remember what the Tragic Kingdom jewel case felt like in my hands, and I can still remember what sheer anguish felt like in my heart when mom wouldn’t allow me to tag along to the show with my older sister. Finally, redemption. And it was well worth the wait!

Acts that Weren’t No Doubt: They were all good. Really stinkin’ good. Even if it was a style of music I didn’t love, I couldn’t help but admire and appreciate the level of musicianship and the caliber of performance. Bonus points for awesome comedians!

Free Water Stations: People behave so much better when they’re hydrated. Thank you on behalf of me, as well as the drunk girl I overheard in the bathroom telling her friends with perfect Kardashian vocal fry: “I’ll be fine after I drink some water, bitches.”

Restrooms: Hey Kaaboo, there must be some sort of mistake. Are you sure that fancy, air-conditioned, immaculate pack of portable restroom trailers weren’t supposed to be delivered to the VIP section? Did some truck driver lose his job over this?

Credit Cards Accepted: I loathe the phrase “cash only” because we are living in the year 2015. Thank you for letting me pay for my 12 Redbull-vodkas with plastic like a dignified human being. It’s easier to part with cash I can’t see.

Fancy Food: So many choices from wonderfully cool and classy joints. Even though we spent three straight days eating about a thousand delicious tacos from Puesto, it was so nice to know we had options. 

Smart Art: A full art exhibit in a massive air-conditioned room. Gigantic completed murals and in-the-works displays that doubled as decor and entertainment. The beautiful art featured at Kaaboo was not an afterthought of this event. It shared the stage and the spotlight.

On Time Every Time: You guys ran a tight ship, and mama likes a tight ship! Every act I saw took to the stage on schedule and left the stage with time to spare. No one likes to watch an event fall behind and try to catch up to itself. You took a page right out of the ol’ Cathryn Beeks book and somehow convinced hundreds of musicians to do the same. Cheers to keeping an eye on that clock!

Stuff & Things: Having a background in event management, I typically steer clear of anything resembling a trade show booth or promo people. Cool logo’d highlighters and bite-sized Snickers bars are not worth a 30 minute demo of whatever you’re trying to sell me! I’ve been fooled before! That was my mentality for day one, but by day two, I figured fuck it, let’s milk this cow for all it’s worth. The results were surprisingly fun and unobtrusive. I sampled Vuka’s energy drink flavors while charging my phone at their cute garden-themed station. I scored some perfume, makeup, and a screen-printed tote bag from the folks at Nordstrom. Bright orange sunnies from GigTown. Chips. Hats. Sunscreen. Granola Bars. Chapstick. Some students from Paul Mitchell even DID MY HAIR and gave me fancy shampoo and a coupon for a free haircut. Looks like Supercuts won’t be seeing me again til around 2017. It all culminated in Nordstrom’s bitchin’ gif photobooth. Gifs. So hot right now. 

While I scampered about, Audrie mostly did this:

Location: Get out of here, Del Mar, with your sprawling fairgrounds and your majestic coastline and your golden sunsets. Just kidding, you can stay. 

Safety: Except for the guy that startled me with an unexpected bear hug attempt, I felt relatively safe all weekend. That’s saying something considering I average about one panic attack per week. I typically shy away from large crowds because I watch too much Dateline and know that danger lurks around every corner. For the most part, attendees seemed to grasp the concept of personal space, and I appreciated that because I accidentally left my Xanax in the car. I encountered only a handful people who I affectionately refer to as shit shows: A woman on crutches who appeared to be trippin’ hard on BTD (big time drugs), a drunk woman who walked all the way back to her car in cursive, and another inebriated lady who thought it’d be cool to hop up on stage with Iliza Shlesinger to give her own version of a Shark Tank presentation. Security!

Local Music: Nothing made my heart sing more than watching local musicians get the opportunity to play at this event. Was I bummed that it wasn’t The Lovebirds? Sure. I am a completely insecure egomaniac musician, after all. But was I THRILLED to jam out to The Midnight Pine, The Silent Comedy, and Tolan Shaw? Yes, yes, and yes! They all knocked it out of the park and made me proud to be part of the local music community. On that note, make sure you check out GigTown - they are working hard to connect San Diegans to their hometown musicians...you don't have to wait for big festivals to hear amazing original music right in your own back yard! Seriously, we will all play in your back yard if you invite us.

There are bound to be some kinks in the hose with any event. Shit, I can’t complete a trip to Target without wishing I’d made 10 better decisions, so I’m definitely not trying to judge. But I did notice just a few things that could potentially be revisited for next year:

Parking Signage: This wasn’t a huge deal, especially since parking is only confusing on the first day, but I did feel sorry for the staff who had to redirect car after car after car into the correct lot. I think their lives could have been made easier with a few large directional signs posted out on the street. I’ve been a human arrow many times, and I stand in solidarity:

Palate: This space featured cool cooking demos, upscale local food options, and fancy wine/spirits tastings. It would have been one of the highlights had it not been for a lack of ventilation. Also, probably not the best idea to put a loud rock band in a concrete hall. I like to crank the volume, but the combination of stale air and loud noise was too much to handle at times, and I again felt sorry for the staff who had to endure lengthy shifts here. (I just got in, got my tacos, and got out.) Maybe next year they can provide a local singer-songwriter stage here (see what I did there?) and somehow find a way to get that air moving, similar to the air conditioned art exhibit.

Money: That was one expensive weekend. Expensive ticket, expensive parking, expensive food, expensive merch, all which were no surprise to me. I realize it was marketed to a higher-earning adult demographic, so I knew my fate upon arrival. That said, I don’t necessarily fit into that category, so now it’s time to pay the piper. American Express is going to have me by the balls for the rest of the year. Whatevs, it will help my credit score, right? The only time the price tag really irked me was when I walked by this sign right after paying $14 for two lemonades and $90 for two t-shirts. That feels just a little bit like gold-hoarding to me. Tolkien wrote a lot of inspiring shit. All I’m saying is maybe pick a different quote. 

Very Important Person: This is not a dig on Kaaboo as much at is a commentary about the general sense of ick I feel when observing the flaunting of wealth and class. There’s something about nightclubs, airplanes, sporting events, and music festivals that force the lower-income-bracket-dwellers to exist at an arm’s length from all the shit they want but can’t have. I know selling VIP perks to rich people helps keep the whole ship afloat, and I’m incredibly aware of my own privilege for even being able to attend this event. I get that people who can afford enhanced options just want an enhanced experience, and I can’t be mad about that. But it’s a little vomit-inducing to witness people get off on their own wealth. I overheard one d-bag bragging to an Elite security guard about how much he paid for his VIP this and VIP that. Yuck! If I had a cookie I didn’t want to share (which is always the case when I have a cookie), I wouldn’t want to gobble it down front of a hungry person. At least they close the curtains in first class. To be fair to Kaaboo, I will note here that organizers did commit to donating a portion of their proceeds to charitable community organizations. That’s pretty cool, and it more than makes up for Braggy McBraggerton.

Indecision: Why you gotta make a lesbian choose between Brandi Carlile and Grace Potter? WHYYYYYYYYY?! I haven’t felt that conflicted since the time I had to choose between two different chocolate desserts during San Diego Restaurant Week.