the Muses and musings of erin solari

music, writing, inspiration and a journey

[erinsolari-blog]

Oh blog/ music/ life/ brain... What am I going to do with you? **Long, exasperated, sad and frustrated, failure of a sigh** I guess I should sleep on it and answer myself in the morning. "If at tenth you don't succeed, try not to bury your head in the sand... We're in Florida where the sand tastes like salt, after all."

[erinsolari-blog]

Home #3 (at Orlando International Airport (MCO))

[erinsolari-blog]

Blast from the past. Rockin some jams with @ENlittle (Taken with Instagram at My Chair In My Lanai)

[erinsolari-blog]

Hello old friend. Been a while. I got a record collecting dust that remembers this room ;). Don't worry, tho. It wasn't your fault 😔 #rock #studiotime (Taken with Instagram at Valencia College- East Campus: Building 1)

[erinsolari-blog]

Can we talk about this for a sec?

[erinsolari-blog]

Florida Friday

Something like a full and whole line,  Complete with melody, meaning, rhyme and lyric,  Fluttered in the corner of my eye from across the courtyard.

I chased after him.  I found his apartment,  But he sat silent in the shadows in the corner of the room  Like James Stewart at the end of that one film.  I charged at him.  He kept me at bay with bright, white, burning flashes of insight  As he sat silent in the shadows in the corner of the room.   An invalid with no chance at life but through me,  And yet he taunted me silently in the shadows from the corner of the room,  I tried to make sense of him  Batting at his neck.

I wanted to chase that line all night  Even after I let his neck slip through my fingers and over the balcony,  Even after I broke his bones on the courtyard below,  I would have chased him all night,  But instead the prospects of blue-eyed strangers' fleeting attentions  In all those whiskey-soaked doldrums of all those sticky hot Florida nights  Always wins.  I should have stayed.  I should have pawed at his strings until he came Around.  Until he looked like somebody I heard about once in a song,  But Florida wins… Florida always wins… 

(to be continued)

[erinsolari-blog]

Disturbing Dragon Force: 

#ThrowbackThursday The lead singer of Disturbed, David Draiman, smokes a cigarette with Dragon Force bassist, Frédéric Leclercq (2007)

Even though I was there, I still have a hard time deciphering what is actually happening in this video, yet it never fails to amuse. The few things I catch every time:

- David Draiman calls my friend "Baby"

- I loudly and unintentionally mimic Fred (in a seemingly mocking way) before he's even finished saying the word "cigarette". I swear it was just a knee jerk reaction out of pure fascination with the beautiful way french people say every word.

- I'm not entirely sure, but I think there are a few crossed wires in regards to said cigarette and its use as a euphemism for... other things? 

- Fred says he wants to marry me. Oh, the French... Très romantique! *Le sigh. >.<

[erinsolari-blog]

"I'd Walk the Wire for You." Nik Wallenda and the Funny Story of My First Heart Break.

"I'd walk the wire for you," he said without flinching on the other end of the phone line. I giggled the silly tween kind of giggle that made me cringe even as I did it. Coming from any other boy, the Bryan Adams song lyric would have been a cheesy line to the point of being comical. Coming from 18 year old Nik Wallenda, who had been walking the high wire in the circus since he was two years old, it was just plain charming, perfectly inline with his intentions. I met him in youth group at church and the boy, who I knew by another name (Wallenda is his stage name handed down by his mother), had charmed my head into the stratosphere. But I should mention that at the naive, boy-crazy, ripe old age of fourteen (going on fifteen?), it didn't take much for my heart to reach lift-off status.

Since I've been on a semi-media fast lately and I don't watch TV the news came to me late in the game. A couple of days ago I flipped on the radio for just the last 30 seconds of my ride back to the office from lunch. Somehow in that hiccup of time, I heard that Nik was about to walk the high wire again, something he knows how to do blindfolded, but this time on June 15, 2012 (tonight) it would be on a wire that stretched across Niagra Falls. Filled with pride and excitement for my friend and his family, I began reminiscing about those carefree teenage years and our group of friends romping around town doing youth group activities, engulfing the corners of local restaurants, or watching the Wallendas practice their world-famous pyramid on the wire in Nik's family's back yard. Then, for shits and giggles, I went on a mad search through my old journals for a poem I could have sworn I had written about him and the sweet childhood memory of first heart break and the lessons learned from such experiences. I am one of those strange souls who looks back on certain memories, even unpleasant ones, with a smile. It may have something to do with the wonderment of time and it's effect on our feelings. I guess with age, the tides of emotions that used to swell and crash like the surf during a dangerous Florida storm, tend to calm themselves into the mellow lap of a Caribbean island shore on a summer day. Our chemistry is (at least mine was) so intense at that stage of life, and gets so much more stable as we get older, so it's always pleasant, remembering those times when we had the ability to feel so much so strongly. That's why I often look back with a sigh and a sweet, "awww," even at the thought of those turbulent times, the extreme highs and terrible lows of the I'm-fourteen-and-my-life-is-over whoas. This is how I look back and remember my first heart break. This is how I look back and remember the 18 year old charming, talented, kind and cocky circus boy Nik Wallenda. I searched in vain for that childish poem, so instead I decided to write this blog post musing on and remembering that familiar first we've all experienced at least once.

It started in church as did most of my social interactions at that age. In those days, I pretty much only went to church, school and youth group… which was at church. The Tabernacle (the church where I grew up) is known for its Christmas production called "The Living Nativity" where they turn the backyard into Bethlehem. It started when I was about 4 years old and to this day it's performed every night for a week straight, just before Christmas. The show-stopper of this annual production is the "Flying Angels". A lady in silky white garb with flowing wings is hooked by a harness, that's hidden underneath her gown, to a zip line that starts 50 feet high from across the street. She then zooms across the night sky into the church yard and stops over the hill of frightened shepherds. Our church, which had members of the famous circus family The Wallendas in its congregation, naturally utilized their expertise in rigging this fantastic stunt. After seeing the first ever performance of this Christmas tradition in 198(something) it had been a childhood dream of mine to be a Flying Angel one day, but I had heard that you had to be a circus performer in order to do it. Nik's leg of the family was apart of a similar production in another town about 45 minutes away, that also used the Flying Angel stunt. Nick asked me if I wanted to be one of "Rising Angels" for that show. The Rising Angels stunt was a tad less risky since they "merely" (again with harnesses and wires) made a slow yet epic 30 ft rise above the manger scene on a fog machine-induced cloud, but it was no less thrilling to me. Oh I'm sorry, did you just ask me if I wanted to fulfill my childhood dream? I of course said, "Yes!" enthusiastically, feeling a bit as tho I had been asked to run away and join the circus.

Given the time we spent together, between the week-long production, the 45 min car rides to and from the church each night, a month or so worth of long phone calls following that Christmas, and considering his never ending charm, it wasn't hard to see how I got so infatuated with him. I remember having to ask my over-protective parents for permission to ride alone with him in his car and thinking how silly it was seeing as HIS parents were just on the other side of that drive preparing the production. If I remember correctly, I think I pondered just leaving that fact out or even lying to my mom and dad (which I did often) by saying we were all traveling together with his folks, but he insisted on being on the up and up with my parents. Not sure exactly how it went down, but I do remember there being an overly serious moment about such a silly thing and thinking to myself, "This silly thing could stand between me and my childhood dream (also pretty silly)." In any case, I got their permission and the "gravity" of the situation made that silly thing a tad more meaningful to me. Outside I was trying like hell to play the cool teenage girl who doesn't need permission from anyone to do anything, but inside I was screaming and flailing on the roof of the car (a la teen wolf… there were cartwheels),"MY FIRST CAR RIDE WITH A BOY! AAAAOOOOOOWWWWW!" (<-- again, a la teen wolf).

As with most productions, there is a lot of waiting around for your cue. This is where the falling happened. I fell hard and fast. I didn't try to hold back, not even a little bit. That's what you do when you're fourteen and invincible, isn't it? We talked the waiting time away in his car (with the doors open so as not to worry the 'rents) that was parked in the grass of the make-shift back stage of the church yard . I don't remember much of what we talked about, but I do remember falling for every word he said hook, line, and sinker. Not implying he was ever dubious or conniving, just that it didn't matter what he said, I was smitten. 

His car always smelled like Doublemint gum and Tommy Hilfiger cologne. We had AOL instant messenger dates. We paged each other with secret beeper number-code messages (remember this is pre text message days). Beepers?(1) Really? I. Am. Old. He some how managed to figure out the title and artist of my favorite song (pre shazaam days) and bought me the record, even though the only time I had ever heard the song other than on his car radio (radio djs are never any help are they?) was in an Applebee's. I still giggle a bit every time I hear Summertime by The Sundays. He welcomed me into his group of friends who were all a few years older, (which made me feel oh so cool) and who are, to this day, people I still consider dear friends of mine. He told me I was pretty and whispered sweet nothings into the telephone. You know, all the stuff that the first part of a Molly Ringwald movie is made of. Infatuation… loads of it, and not a single ounce of physical contact save for a lot of full-on drawn out hugs good bye. But that's saying a lot considering we were well trained by our church to only engage in "side - hugs" as opposed to "full frontal hugs" (<-- joke >.<) because it was less likely to stir up un-godly desires in the opposite sex or something dumb like that. And then came the last one of those kinds of hugs. 

This flirtation courtship lasted a month or two before it was time for him to leave again on another one of his trips with his family and their world-renowned circus act. We said good bye to each other with another one of those drawn out, heart pounding, I'm-saying-something-by-holding-on-a-second-longer embraces and a promise that we would miss each other a lot. He called me a few times when he could while on the road, but it was on that trip that he would meet his future wife, the super talented and all-around bad ass: Erendira (Allow me to pause for a moment and just tell you that she is a goddess of radditute. Love that gal). So as you may have guessed, it was on his return that I got my first taste of that precious rite of passage that comes with your teens. 

As a child, you're handed this beating, fist sized and fragile life force. You toss it up once or twice, and nothing happens. Then one day you lose your grip and drop it. Only when it hits the floor of your stomach do you fully realize the respect and care you should have given it in the first place, the kind they told you to give it, but never listened. Only then do you vow to remember that pain, take note of your wrong calculations, and step lightly from that point forward. It's something you take with you for life. No one ever forgets their first heart break and I'll never forget mine. I may not have been a milestone in his life, but he definitely was in mine and I'm ok with that. Isn't that always how the story goes anyway?

As is expected when first taking off the emotional training wheels, it took some time for me to get over it (and boy did I let everyone know how tough it was on me >.<), but in the end we all stayed friends. I'd even venture to say that years later I came to regard him along with some of his/ our guy friends as the sort of big brother types that a girl could count on should the need arise. And trust me, back then the messes I got myself in were endless (what's changed?). I'm pretty sure each one of those boys had a hand in keeping me from walking into one disaster or another. One of these protectors in particular (ehem Joe) definitely saved me from flunking high school. No question.

When my mother called me today to remind me about the ABC special on TV covering Nik's Niagra walk she said, "Isn't that exciting? Didn't you guys date or something?" And I wasn't sure how to answer that. Even though this encounter was quite a milestone in my life, you can probably see why it would be difficult for me to consider him an "ex". Beside the fact that we never kissed, or even held hands for that matter… In addition to it being a bit of an odd idea for me to think of my present pal as the same boy from my past… beyond all that, truth be told, I never really did reach that official "girlfriend" status. Prior to his meeting Erendira, I think the church, my scary-protective family, and our age difference (14 and 18) may have played a role in that, but who knows. What I do know is, in those few short weeks/ months Nik had said a lot of sweet and charming things to me, but one thing lingered in my head much longer than all the others. He said, "One day I'll take you up there. I've taken all my girlfriends up there." You see, he had taken each one of his girlfriends at some point during their relationship, planted them on his shoulders, and walked them across the wire. Thanks to my presumptuous teenage nature, when he said this, I had eagerly taken it to mean he was planning to date me. Which leads me to the only regret I have of the whole ordeal. I don't regret not getting the chance to date him. I don't even regret a single second of the heart ache that followed, not the confusion that comes with those first unwieldy, broken-heart recoveries. I don't even regret how foolish I was to give my heart so willingly, freely and easily with out an ounce of caution. Nope. Not even close. No, friends, I have very few regrets in my life, but one thing I regret, without question, is never getting the chance to go up on that dang high wire. *Le Sigh... ;)

"I'd walk the wire for you," he said. Well, tonight I watch as he walks the wire for you, for me, his family, America, Canada, the world and of course himself. And I couldn't be more excited to see him attain his dreams.

Click here to watch the ABC TV special rerun

(1) For those of you too young to know what I'm talking about… BEEPERS: Step 1 - Call beeper of your pal from a land line. Step 2 - Enter the call back number where you can be reached. Step 3 - Trail the call back number with number codes that either help the beeped individual identify you or the nature of the call or both. ie 337 (My initials EES) + 911 =  It's Erin and it's urgent.

[erinsolari-blog]

UUUUMMMM #4LokoHourWorkWeek Anyone?

Almost completely forgot about this little gem from the other night. Only vaguely do I remember actually recording this drunken dribble (courtesy of Four Loko) while waiting for a video to upload. By the end of our respective tall boy cans, my clever boyfriend came up with the #4LokoHourWorkWeek hash tag. I think we're going to make it a regular thing in our relationship.

[erinsolari-blog]

7 DAYS WITHOUT FACEBOOK OR TWITTER! Alternate title: 7 DAYS OUT OF THE VORTEX! (Part 2)

Check out Part 2 of 2 videos I made to celebrate my first full week away from The Vortex. In it I've shared some insight into what it's like to suddenly stop something that had been so automatic before. Also, I have made some updates to my blog for those interested in knowing why, how, and what exactly I am doing with this whole Facebook and Twitter avoidance. If you would like to skip the video, check out erinsolari.com/thechallenge to see all the official rules and parameters I've set for myself. There may or may not be a few nuggets of fun sprinkled in there for those that read it all.

[erinsolari-blog]

7 DAYS WITHOUT FACEBOOK OR TWITTER! Alternate title: 7 DAYS OUT OF THE VORTEX! (Part 1)

Needless to say, the last 7 days hasn't been the easiest process in the world, but I am starting to feel like a new person. It took a bit of adjusting, but thanks to Google Chrome and so many encouraging friends I have survived the first week of withdrawals. Check out this video (Part 1 of 2) to see how I'm keeping track of my progress. Then check out Part 2 (to follow shortly) to see what other good habits I'm forming in the process.

[erinsolari-blog]

Music Monday: Masochistic Muse

Here's a little sneak peak at my latest song. So far, it's looking like it could be the opening track on the EP. What do you think? I would love to hear your thoughts. I had been calling it Masochistic Muse, but now I'm leaning toward the title All There Is to a Fire. This was performed at The Atlantic in Jacksonville on 4/28/12.

[erinsolari-blog]

Maximum Enjoyment

Maximum Enjoyment = Things to do when you're not in The Vortex

[erinsolari-blog]

Another day down away from #TheVortex (Taken with Instagram at 50 Years of Kitty)

[erinsolari-blog]

When it rains, my hair flips me the bird, so I hog tied that disobedient bitch. Rare forehead appearance. I go on at 11:15 get here. #MeAtShows #Rock (Taken with Instagram at Peacock Room)

[erinsolari-blog]

Last minute show at Peacock Room! Come hang. I go on at 11:15pm. #music #rock #musicmakesme... (Taken with Instagram at 50 Years of Kitty)

[erinsolari-blog]

Done With Facebook, Twitter, and Romancing the Ghost Until Further Notice

Ligeia So here I am, a full flying year after the unfortunate death of our dear inanimate friend, the band. We called him The Still Voice. I gave him words, I gave him love, and I gave him my heart. We were friends, we were lovers, mortal enemies at times, but we gave each other reasons to exist. It was too much, I believe, for he was after all, as I have said... inanimate. A rock, a soulless statue, a wooden idol perhaps, a lively idea that could never really love back, couldn't possibly hold the suffocating weight of my heart I flung at him so clumsily. Like a marionette with limp strings lying in the corner of that cinder block cell we called a practice space. All he needed was a flick of the wrist and the loving tug of his puppeteer(s), and he would bounce to life and give us all some meaning. But in the end, it was I who was left lifeless in the corner with the strings cut. Who then was the puppeteer? Who then was the puppet? I've spent an aching year avoiding, then facing, then burying, then digging up again all such "questions to all those ugly answers."(1)

Rowena But I'm actually not here to talk about all that. It might not be fully buried. It might not be remembered properly in any retelling or eulogy attempted. The wounds may or may not have healed, but it's time to move forward regardless. So I am here to tell of my next step, the first I've had the courage to take since that "uninspired ending of [that] uninspiring day"(2) back in June (or July?) of last year (2011). Ladies and gentleman, no drum roll is necessary because what I am about to tell you is as familiar, frequent and unsurprising as the silly sad story of my band breaking up. What else does an artist/ musician choose to do when the limbs they have leaned on for a number of years are suddenly phantoms? Why, DUN DUN DUN... I'm just writing a solo EP. That's all. Nothing more. Nothing less. However, my hope is that this new journey will be much less familiar, a tad surprising, and nothing shy of thrilling.

Facebook and co. My guitar and I are finally on speaking terms again, and like two best friends who have forgotten why they stopped talking to each other in the first place we have ideas bursting from our respective head(stocks). These ideas, directions, and challenges will unfold here on my blog for your reading/ viewing/ listening pleasure, but right now I want to talk about my first important act as a new found solo artist. I am here forth boycotting Facebook and Twitter from my life until said EP has finished being written and recorded. This among other possible challenges that may or may not include alcohol and other social media, will no doubt be a tough feat, but one I find essential to the efficiency and productivity of my project. I wish I could say I possess the discipline to merely limit my time on such activities, but sadly and admittedly I do not. I apologize if this disappoints anyone.

Now that I've established what it is I am not doing, stay tuned to my blog to hear previews, sneak glances, and read insights as to what I am accomplishing. To read about some of the logistics of this social media departure and how you may contact me see below:

The blog automatically gets published to my Facebook fan page (which I am obviously not checking). Since I am only blocking myself from going to Facebook and Twitter, but NOT deactivating my accounts, you can still add me, follow me, like my page, tag me, encourage me, etc, but I will not see any of it until my triumphant return when my project is complete. In case someone is trying desperately to get ahold of me, but is, for some reason, unaware of my absence, notifications of Facebook messages (and "direct messages" for Twitter) are sent to an email address that my boyfriend will be checking and replying to with a sort of "auto response" message and my email address. For those who are aware and would like to contact me directly, please feel free to email me:

[email protected]

I'll need all the encouragement I can get, so don't be shy. Love me. I love you <3

(1) Cursive - The Recluse

(2) Twothirtyeight - Romancing the Ghost

Update: Before I get this comment or question a bazillion times. Yes, I understand that there are many more forms of "Social Media" than just Facebook and Twitter, but I decided to only cut out the ones that are the most distracting to me. This is my challenge and I write the rules so :-P