Andrea Coller's Blog
The other Andrea Coller got married. This is my theory. How do I know?
I googled myself. (Come on, EVERYBODY does it, right? And my Mom says it's perfectly natural...) And now, it seems that the other Andrea Coller has taken on an additional name. I'd like to think that she was inundated with so many "ohmygodijustloveyourmusic!!" emails from all of the kids out there that she just changed it to avoid all of my rabid fans. In reality, though, it seems that she met a nice Scottish boy and settled down.
Bitch.
So if any of you don't know, I'm kind of glued to my couch these days. It blows, but it's my own fault. By New Years' I had completely run myself into the ground with my constant working and no-time-for-sleep-no-time-for-food lifestyle. God, I miss it. I sigh now and think about how fucking fabulous that cycle was- coffee, work, coffee, coffee, rockshow, drinking, pass out, coffee. And I did it all in heels and pencil skirts. I'm jealous.
Making a looooong story short, on January 2 I went to the ER because I felt totally awful. I woke up a couple weeks later at Brigham and Women's in Boston. It seems I'd developed severe pneumonia, in addition to a full-body toxic infection, which caused complications with my heart and lungs. Couple of weeks in the ICU, then regular hospital, then another... It's some slow-moving shit. So I just got home last week. I'm still hooked up to oxygen, and not able to walk much farther than my kitchen. I'd normally describe this as a fate worse than death, but I'm trying very hard to be optimistic.
I hate optimists.
I bet the other Andrea Coller never had to deal with crap like this.
The other Andrea Coller got married. This is my theory. How do I know?
I googled myself. (Come on, EVERYBODY does it, right? And my Mom says it's perfectly natural...) And now, it seems that the other Andrea Coller has taken on an additional name. I'd like to think that she was inundated with so many "ohmygodijustloveyourmusic!!" emails from all of the kids out there that she just changed it to avoid all of my rabid fans. In reality, though, it seems that she met a nice Scottish boy and settled down.
Bitch.
So if any of you don't know, I'm kind of glued to my couch these days. It blows, but it's my own fault. By New Years' I had completely run myself into the ground with my constant working and no-time-for-sleep-no-time-for-food lifestyle. God, I miss it. I sigh now and think about how fucking fabulous that cycle was- coffee, work, coffee, coffee, rockshow, drinking, pass out, coffee. And I did it all in heels and pencil skirts. I'm jealous.
Making a looooong story short, on January 2 I went to the ER because I felt totally awful. I woke up a couple weeks later at Brigham and Women's in Boston. It seems I'd developed severe pneumonia, in addition to a full-body toxic infection, which caused complications with my heart and lungs. Couple of weeks in the ICU, then regular hospital, then another... It's some slow-moving shit. So I just got home last week. I'm still hooked up to oxygen, and not able to walk much farther than my kitchen. I'd normally describe this as a fate worse than death, but I'm trying very hard to be optimistic.
I hate optimists.
I bet the other Andrea Coller never had to deal with crap like this.
BIG SHOW SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 16
(and also, a whole bunch of excuses)
So, first things first- This Sunday night, at the AMAZING Paradise Lounge in Boston (www.thedise.com), my boys in Pesky J. Nixon and I will be playing a benefit for the SAMFund (www.thesamfund.org), which is an awesome organization which benefits young adult survivors of cancer. (Um- hello...) It's going to be an amazing night of music and fun, all for a great cause. Please come out and join us at this awesome venue! The show starts at 7PM, and costs $20 in advance, and $25 at the door. BE THERE.
If, that is, you're not too pissed at me for being a blog-tease. (In which case, you should come anyways, because there's no reason to take it out on the SAMFund.) So, excuse number 1- my best friends moved to Maine, and I am in mourning.
(But Andrea, doesn't that just mean you now have more time alone, with only the soft glow of the internet to comfort you?)
Excuse number 2- the Coller family birthday noose is just beginning to tighten. Also, my sister and niece were visiting from Las Vegas.
(But Andrea, that visit was only for 3 days! And there's only five birthdays, in reality- capped off by your own only nine days from now!)
Excuse number 3- I picked up a second job.
Oh, what's that, don't got nothin' to say now, do ya?
So, yeah. That's where I've been. Working. A lot. But it's all good work that I love. I'm still doing the hair gig, and now I also get to play around with fashion and get paid for it. It's not such a bad deal, and this is my last week of working 6 days.
So. No empty promises. Just letting y'all know that I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. Yet.
Come see my show before I do.
FRIDAY, MAY 18- ROCKSHOW!!
That's right, friends! On Friday, May 18, I will be at PACE, sharing the stage with those fine Boston boys, Pesky J. Nixon!
It promises to be a great night of music and fun. This is a co-bill, so you'll get the best of both worlds. And, of course, we will be storming the stage during each others' sets for harmonies and other havoc.
Please come on out and support LIVE music! Also, the gentlemen will be in their chapeaux, and the lady (yes, I mean me, you sarcastic bastards!) in her millinery. Because it's an Andrea + Pesky show, and that's just how we roll.
For tickets, directions, and other information: www.pioneerarts.org
For more information on Pesky J. Nixon: www.peskyjnixon.com
Pesky J.'s myspace: www.myspace.com/peskyjnixon
Andrea's myspace: www.myspace.com/andreacollermusic
See y'all at the big show!!!
Don't Throw Pizza Before You Die
I've never been to Fenway Park. Fifteen years in Massachusetts, and I've never made the cross-state trek out to a game. Yes, it would have been a lot easier to get tickets before the whole breaking-of-the-curse thing went down, but to be completely honest, I've never
really
tried to get tickets. And beyond a casual mention to the boys at poker night, I've never really talked it up as a possibility. But I've always wanted to go. It's on my list of things to do before I die.
And, I don't mean to brag, but mostly because I've had several brushes with death, my "things to do before I die" list is a little bit closer to the gut for me than for most- it's almost as though at any moment I might be called upon to drop everything and go to a Sox game, play poker in Vegas, buy something Chanel, pet a buffalo, or go to Hong Kong.
I keep the credit card with the insanely high limit around for this reason. I always imagine getting the bad news, then charging up thousands of dollars in a ridiculously short time, and refusing to pay it off. Then, the flying monkey minions from Bank of America track me down in my hospital bed, and I'll use one of my last breaths to say, "Oh yeah? You want me to pay? Well, I'm dying! So suck on that, you evil monkey bitches!!"
Perhaps I shouldn't be so angry. It is a waste of the little bits of energy that I can muster up in this crazy, never-ending New England winter. It's doing that annoying snow-rain thing again today, and I cannot abide it- having to wear ugly, clunky shoes, or catch pneumonia in cute shoes is a great source of rage for me. (Nothing arouses my anger like being forced into unflattering footwear.)
And we all stay the same, yet the longer it remains 38 degrees and raining, the crankier people get. All I ask is for a little break of sunshine and warmth. I just keep telling myself, "maybe next week, maybe next week..."
The signs of spring have been small so far, but there is still hope. Occasional flowers and chirping birds, all that bullshit. And some enterprising young ladies have decided that technical spring is just as good as actual spring, and have ditched their leggings and tights in favor of bare legs under their short jean skirts. (When I see this happen, I inevitably wish the guys were with me to see it, or that I could appreciate it myself.) And most importantly, baseball season has started.
I'm being lazy this morning. All right, this afternoon too. I sleep in, and when I wake up and turn on the TV, there's baseball. The Red Sox are playing their annual Patriots' Day ((TM)A Massachusetts-Exclusive Holiday) game, and we're soundly beating the Angels.
Foul ball along the third base line. Back, back it goes, into shallow left field, into the first row of the stands. The Angels' left-fielder competes with two fans for the ball. No one catches it. A beer spills.
"Idiots!" I yell. I shake my fist at the fans for interfering with the play. Then the soft glow of the internet draws me away and I space out for a moment.
When I turn back to the TV, Jerry and Don are laughing at a slo-mo replay. From behind the two fans interfering with the play, an object is thrown in a perfect spiral, hitting one of the fans in the neck. Then, a close-up-- it is a piece of pizza, twirling, twirling, and splatting soundly on the side of his face. Priceless.
I laugh too. Jerry says, "That fan, of course, has been ejected from the game." For a moment, I wonder which one- there were two guys fighting the left-fielder for the ball. Then, of course, I realize that they're talking about the guy who threw the pizza.
The fact that I identify with the rage-aholic pizza-thrower must mean that I have issues myself. I mean, there's really no call for being that angry. All it gets you is thrown out of the ballpark. Life lesson: take a deep breath before you throw the pizza.
The good news is that I got my tax refund. And, armed with a small portion of it, I aim to cross off one of the items on my "things to do before I die" list. All I have to do now is decide whether it's more cost-effective to buy something Chanel, or to bribe someone at the farm in Hadley to let me pet a buffalo.
That should curb the madness. Or at least get me through the rain.
i am domestic, and i am thrown for a loop.
right now, it's saturday night, and i'm nestled in my brother and
sister-in-law's beautiful home, up in what i'd fondly refer to as the
boonies. i'm wearing my work clothes- i dressed today as "mod andrea,"
in my boxy black dress, white hoop earrings, and red tights. the
ensemble is now made complete by my sister-in-law's purple fuzzy
slippers, and a little bit of crayon under my fingernails. my
year-and-a-half old niece is asleep in her room, and i'm thinking it
should by all means be at least midnight. it is not even close.
it was a whirlwind kind of day, (work, work, work!) which ended with
my evening plans being cancelled, and my brother and sister-in-law's
babysitter cancelling on them too. you do the math. the two of them
are now off for a very well-deserved dinner and movie excursion, and
i'm trying to remember what it is that people do when they're
babysitting on a saturday night. all i can remember is that i should
raid the refrigerator. (people with children tend to actually keep
food in their houses. suckers.)
this would be my very first attempt at babysitting since eighth grade,
when i was reprimanded one too many times for falling asleep
(literally) on the job by my only client, and susequently let go. but
i think i did all right tonight- little Rose and i played blocks, had
juice and stories and drew pictures, and i only hit her head once,
(totally by accident, my hand to god) so i think i can count myself as
successful.
having said that, domesticity is my nightmare. my apartment is
certifiably non-childproof. i woke up in a nervous sweat from a dream
that i was getting married. i had to leave my niece's dirty diaper on
the changing table because i was utterly perplexed by the weirdo
diaper machine thing. the only food i really have in my apartment is
stuck to the plates in my sink that are still there from my oscar
party. and i like it that way.
but for right now, it's good to spend some time on the other side.
it's comfy here- leather couches, good cable, and a sweet laptop. and
in fact, it's probably the exact opposite of a typical saturday night.
instead of spending too much money on food and drink, i'm getting paid
(yes, i know it's my brother, and i fully plan to refuse the cash) to
steal all of their food and drink. it's not so bad, really. maybe the
fact that i'm not only tolerating it, i'm kind of enjoying it, might
mean that i'm starting to get old. oh, well. so be it.
so goodnight everyone, from this snowy little new england town. the
nightlife will have to go on without me tonight- there's a 48 hours
mystery and a bag of tortilla chips with my name written all over
them.
i swear to you, faithful readers (of which i'm not sure there are any left), that i will post real and more thoughtful posts far more regularly than i have been lately, sometime in the near future. this is my early new year's resolution. you all are witnesses. but for now, a brief bit of business...
there are new recordings!
as i alluded to in my last post, there is a new demo out, which i've titled "undone." just me and my guitar, and a couple of microphones. (actually, there is one decoration from fiddle-genius eric lee on "window", so that was technically a lie.) anyways, it only costs ten little dollars, and is available either by e-mailing me (andrea@andreacoller.com) or at the shows. here's a track list:
1- silver lining *new*
2-ain't no shame *new*
3-15 little houses *new*
4- window
5- call after midnight
6- enough said *brand new*
and if you'd like some free downloads, or to sample the new songs before you buy, check out my myspace page at www.myspace.com/andreacollermusic --and also, please be my myspace friend! i only have like ten so far, which is more than a little bit lame. yeah, i'm still getting the hang of the myspace, but i finally at least got my songs up!
more later.... for real!!
***BIG SHOW ALERT***
Saturday, November 11, at PACE in Easthampton, MA, at 8 o'clock PM, I have the privilege of sharing the stage with the fine, dashing young men of Pesky J. Nixon. (www.peskyjnixon.com) This is a split bill, but I do believe that we both plan to invade each others' sets and collaborate, because we are all divas and cannot possibly stay out of the spotlight. Be there pour le big rock-show!
Visit www.pioneerarts.org for tickets, directions, and other information!
AND, as extra incentive to attend (as if you needed anything more than the presence of Pesky and I!), there just might be an EP of newly recorded songs available at bargain basement pricing! Some new songs? Old songs? You'll just have to show up to find out.
In other news... my 28th birthday was far superior to my 27th, seeing as I did not spend it in the hospital, coughing up blood. I got to spend it at open mic at PACE, surrounded by my friends. We had our customary Packard's pig-out. It was good.
It was, it was good. But I confess that my near-death experience from last year at this time seems to be looming over me. As I am not, and never really will be, fully recovered, I can't shake the feeling that it will happen again. The doctors tell me that it's really very unlikely. But then again, my weird health problems have always been unlikely.
I don't remember "falling back" last year. I think that I was unconscious- in the hospital unconscious, or going through life unconscious. I jumped right back into work, and life, avoiding all thoughts of the hospital, even as i went to radiation every day.
But now a whole year has passed, and winter is brewing again. As the leaves fall, I'm struck by all of the new beginnings happening around me. In less than 24 hours, two of my best friends in the whole world were married, and two other friends had a baby. And standing just outside those little circles of hope and love has actually been good for my state of mind.
This year, when the clocks turned backward, I was watching a DVD with a good friend who was staying with me for the weekend. We were curled up on the futon. She asked me about the first time I got sick. And I told the story, which I usually hate doing. But it was all right. Because it finally felt like a long time ago. It felt like something that happened to someone else. It was about 12:30 when we decided to go to bed. I wondered out loud if I should turn the clocks back that night or in the morning. "It's okay," she said, "You can do it now." And I reached over and turned it back. And it wasn't last year, it was just 11:30 again. I was still in my apartment, with my friend. Safe, and crazy as ever.
So here we have turned the heat on, and are bracing ourselves against the snow. We can only hold it off for so long. Or, actually, we can't. No one is in control of it. It's a weird kind of comfort, isn't it? I think so.
