Birthday/Los Angeles Burns
I had a birthday, Jan 7th. The outward zoom was and is an ongoing burning horror show of destruction here in LA, and the inward zoom is the ongoing dread and sadness of a situation I am trying desperately to be of some service in. Fuck cancer.
What I’m trying to say is that I arrived in Los Angeles Monday night to visit and look after a sick beloved, and the next morning, major parts of the city are engulfed in flames and I can’t even begin to imagine what all these people are going through. What the firefighters and responders are dealing with. The wind is wreaking it’s own havoc in the valley where I am, trees with weakened roots due to drought are just falling down onto cars and houses, while branches of all sizes are animated and bounding down residential streets.
Soon after getting started on this dispatch, fires broke out in other parts of the city. I ran out and filled my car with gas, bought a case of water, and made an evacuation route plan. Fortunately, the ones that were nearest where I am staying were contained and I was able to get sleep. As we moved into Friday, as of now, evacuations are starting in Encino. It’s too close.
All of this is the backdrop, the scenery, to the indoor tragedy that I’m here for, a situation that has so much wrong it would be invasive to even begin to describe it.
Anyway, regarding birthday—I am a birthday celebration type, so even though my actual day wasn’t a celebration, I enjoyed a movie date with nine people in Austin on Saturday and was given a dinner party by a group of friends on Sunday. And say what you will about social media, but it was nice to get 1000’s of messages; lovely expressions that make me feel seen and appreciated. Even more amazing, they are from a huge swath of people who I’ve either known, been acquainted with, become familiar with via messages or posts, or strangers who read or listen to my creative outputs.
Thank you for starting 2025 and year 66 with so much acknowledgment, encouragement, support, friendship, and interest.
Psycher
New Years Day we announce-bombed Psycher. If you missed it, here’s a graphic made for us by my good pal Kelly Lawrence.
I’m psyched for this band! Readers of the Direction of Motion know how we started, but if you’re new here, here’s a recap: the musicians are myself-guitar, Brix Smith (The Fast, Adult Net, Brix and the Extricated) - guitar, Cáít (Rocky) O’Riordan (The Pogues, the Bush Tetras) - bass, and Linda Pitmon (the Baseball Project, ZuZu’s Petals, The Minus 5) - drums. There’s every chance we will be switching instruments around, sharing lead vocals, having free style jams live…it’s loose and vibey and super cool. The idea of "us" had been tossed around for some time, but as we are transAtlantic, it took a while to actuate. In September, Rocky and Linda came to England and we finally booked a room and played—having no songs or ideas or concepts or anything planned. We basically just jammed on trancey riffs for hours each day. One of us would start playing something and everyone else would join in, and we’d build into these intuitive crescendos and falls. It was good. It was so good that the staff of the rehearsal place wanted to know all about us—what gigs we were doing, how long we’d been together—even the owner walked by our room and stopped to listen and asked: “who are they? this is a great band.” !!!
Over the next few months, Linda took her phone recordings and organized all the music we’d played, editing the best parts into folders and sent them to us. Brix and I got together and took the musical parts and arrangements and finessed them into a few songs. Writing with someone isn’t always a flow, but Brix and I have been pleasantly suprised how natural and easy it is to work on these songs together. It’s a start and there’s more we haven’t touched yet. And more playing together coming up along with a day of recording in February for the finished work. Thrilling.
A lot of conversations with Audrey about home, and what it is, what it means. She has a concept for her honors thesis that is based on the idea of an exploration of houses and “home” through essays, short stories, poetry, art, and critical analysis of other works on the same topic. I lived in Los Angeles 27 years and it is still where many of my favorite friends are. With those ties and history, the city will always be an echo of home for me, the memories are sort of pulsing everywhere. Austin is the city I associate most with family; my little stripped down minimalist family. It’s where I was born to my English mom, and all the funky spots we lived, where I came with my husband and 3-year-old, and then raised my kid as a single mom. Austin is where I got to know my dad finally, until his death, where my mom died. Once the family was gone Austin became about friends and my house and it wasn’t enough to make me stay—as much as I miss my incredible Austin people And now there’s England. It feels like the whole country is my home, even though I don’t know the whole country. I have a community around me in St Albans and am finally breaking through to a solid friend collection in London.
I feel more English than American, I feel more Texan than English, and I don’t feel any attachment to any house or any past place. I like familarity but I also like wild strange newness. Maybe it’s love that feels like home?
I’d be interested to hear in the comments if you’re inclined to discuss—what is home to you? How attached are you to a place or a house or a city?
I’m struggling to write because I am heartbroken and I can’t write about the reasons why. One doesn’t dance around the topic of ‘shattered’ —one either avoids it entirely or you show your wounds to the world. But I owe an explanation to you, my writers and subscribers. I’m not entirely on top of my game right now, things are too hard. I’m healthy and thriving but adjacent to a situation that is beyond anything I’ve ever had to go through. There’s no distancing, no protection, no running away. I don’t say these things to make you wonder, but I think enough of you have experienced similar feelings without needing the details. To have this happening while being actively in a city that is burning, waiting for the red, ominous sky to be a view—it’s not conducive to any creative impulses.
I was awake much of the night grappling with an overwhelming instinct to leave, despite not being anywhere close to accomplishing what I came to do. I gave in this afternoon and changed my flight to go…home. Sunday, and it’s not soon enough. As of this writing, evacuations are happening in Encino, which is next to Sherman Oaks, which is next to Studio City.
I'm here in London if you need a friend. Xo
I lived in the same town for the first 44 years of my life - never liked it much, but never really imagined being anywhere else. Then I lost the world’s best pooch (also cancer) and split from my girlfriend of nearly 20 years (long overdue), and moved about 30 miles south, for the sole reason that it was convenient for work, so it left me more income for a mortgage (eek!).
I knew nobody - when I wasn’t working, I was working on making the place liveable. During lockdown, I spent most mornings in the local park, where I got to know a lot of people I now consider good friends - some of the best I’ve ever had (one later confessed she was worried about me because she thought I was carrying booze in my bag... it was suet for the moorhen family that adopted me! It’s nearly 21 years since I stopped drinking, so how bloody rough must I look at 7 in the morning to give that impression??)
So these days, this place feels like home, and yeah, I’d say it’s love that makes it that way.
Stay safe, and catch you at the 100 next month 🐾