In stark contrast, we settled into proper working gigs here in Salt Lake City. You know, bill paying, buying IKEA shit, throwing out IKEA shit when it broke and buying more shit to replace it. At least we've reached a point now where we ain't replacing. Our bookshelves folded like a house of cards, now disintegrating into dust in the garage. We have stacks and stacks of books waist high, just waiting to see what we're going to do with them. And that's after selling a bunch at a yard sale and dropping off a ton more at the thrift store.
But yeah, I'm getting off track.
I haven't written much lately about my brother-in-law Dave. Serge's brother. His best friend, his band mate. Dave's a tough bastard, sometimes. Tough bastard in that way genius-types with one track minds tend to be. Like an old turntable, Dave's mind only revolves music. Mostly, I like that. We conflict sometimes, when some sentimental girly-girl notion buried deep inside rears its silly head and then I am hellbent on seeking some kind of meaningful interaction with him. The kind of interaction that has him frantically searching for the nearest exit and pawing his pocket for smokes. But he's a good guy. And I've never seen anyone work so hard at something. He's a prisoner of his passion for music. It will never stop clawing at his innards and, selfishly, I hope it never does because I love his music so fucking much. I can honestly say if it weren't for Dave and Serge's music I don't know that I'd have fallen in love with Serge like I did. The music spurred it on, a backdrop to love, the soundtrack to the movie that was me meeting my future husband, the father of my child.
When will I get back to Pennsylvania? Who knows? I can tell you this; I don't want Violet to attend school in Utah. Just because. In fact, I'm considering home-schooling for the first few years. Yes, really. The dream is there, shimmering seductively, a few years from now. Big, old farm house. Rural Pennsylvania. Raising up Violet around passionate, creative, troubled, musical folks like Dave and his Christine. And two goats called Fury and Mud.
Listen, Serge's band Marah (former band, whatever, I have a hard time believing he'll never play with Dave again) has a new song out. It's awesome. You can get yourself a free download by checking out the widget there to the lower left of the blog. And also, if you want to know why these goddamned rock boys routinely having me tearing out my hair and then my heart, watch this (very short) documentary about Marah I just found. Not sure how I missed it but, here you go. I defy you to watch this and NOT fall in love with these two scrappy, Bielanko boys with poet souls
Yes David, it made me cry. I lasted until the photo at 5:14, though. More than five minutes in! Still, you best grab your smokes and head for the porch.