SXSW

Although its not my first trip to Austin, TX this one is by far the most memorable.  Keep Austin weird is the slogan and the saying holds truth as you walk the crowded streets of Austin.  You aren't in Kansas anymore and the town drips art from its seams everywhere you look.  A definite slower pace then New York and the suns more then I am used to (insert sunburn here).   This festival is for the art hungry and creative souls looking to be heard.  Music rings from unknown places, its everywhere.

Best part: The food trucks.  I have missed what Mexican food actually tastes like.  Tacos, BBQ, soba noodles, ice cream and my personal favorite The Guac and Roll food truck.  This town is filled with flavors that will dance on your tastes buds while music rings in your ears.  They set up shop, lines form and before you know it you are stuffing your face, curbside.

I want to remember this experience.  For the art hungry I do suggest visiting SXSW.  If not for the art go for the food and also for what keeps Austin weird.  

9/11 Memorial

Today I took an old 3 train into lower Manhattan.  About 6 subway stops from me leads me to a site that brings back a somber heavy mood.  The new 911 memorial opened up recently and something from deep within said go.  I have been here before perhaps a year and a half before when it wasn't finished and it still provokes the same feelings.  Today was different, first you navigate through a maze of shallow side streets in lower Manhattan.  I asked a policeman if he knew where Thames street was and even he gave me the wrong directions.  You must reserve a ticket online where they ask you for a great deal of personal information before claiming your memorial site ticket.  You enter and its as if you are boarding a plane.  Coats, belts and laptops in tiny plastic containers.  You get the security clearance and move in a single file line towards unfinished 911 gift-shops.  I wish I was kidding when I say that, sadly there are perfectly branded mugs and sweatshirts waiting in stacks to be purchased.  Who buys this shit?

The lump in my throat grows.  Everyone has their cameras out and I start to loss faith in humanity.  This isn't disney world.  Completely still I take it all in.  I walk to the south pool with its edges covered in names of bodies that have been swallowed into these grounds.  The recycling pools of water going deep into the earth.  It really is peaceful and traffic all at the same time.  People are taking pictures by the memorial, smiling and its so confusing.  This is a grave, a memorial and people are smiling taking pictures of themselves and it makes me sick.  I walked very far away from this and end up on the north pool. My hands following the letters from all the names written into the edge, 3,000 names.  I walk to the corner and watch the water be engulfed by the ground.  It sounds like the ocean.  All day it has been raining and the rain has ceased.  

When you stand in lower Manhattan the slivers between the buildings are far and few.  I was alone on the edge and I said with the most intense sigh that "I was sorry."  With no intent of hearing a response and I wasn't stating this to anyone in general but still felt this need to do so.  These 3,000 lives ended here because of war, because of difference.  Fellow humans that cant see past differences taking lives.  Money, greed and power.  All to prove a point but the point is that as my fingers followed David Silvers name and it was there that I was reminded that he was a person with a family.  Maybe he was a dad but he was someones son.  Then I trace Scott Thomas Coleman and with a voice inside as loud as if I spoke it said "What happened that day wasn't your fault."  I wondered in that moment what had happened and sat very still and became as present as I could.  This next part of the story I wish I was making up only because at first it freaked me out.  A beam of light opened through the clouds and fell directly on where I was standing.  The ray left the sun and found a tiny sliver between the buildings and landed directly on me.  With a feeling of awe and shock droplets of rain came pouring down my cheeks.  The stark space and how empty it felt when I first walked in didn't feel that way anymore.  I don't believe I was alone.  Just because you cant see something doesn't mean its not there.  It was a beautiful moment and it made me see things a little differently.  

This is a huge moment within our society as a human race not just as Americans and Im not one to be controversial or hypothetical but there is and was more to 911 then we will probably ever know.  When people search for answers they are called whistleblowers or conspiracy theorists.  I think there is always a bigger picture always a motive that wont appear until you start asking questions.    Its easy to be sheep but when you put your iphone down and turn off the Kardashians you will find that all the distractions are what separates you from this truth.  We will look back at this and one day see it for what it really was and what it was not.  Just start seeking.  

Dani Erin & Billy Grant

Do

Music

This

Way..

danierinmusic.com

My Art.

This is what I call ART

www.danierinmusic.com

Caity

I wish I could tell you what its like

To be alone.

In BIG New York City.

I wish you could see what it feels like to be without you.

As my sister by my side for as long as I could remember.

In order for me to write the music I do, I have to feel that weight.

To be without something.

That something is you.

My better half...

Everything I wish I was,  however this universe chose differently

For

Me.

If I dont speak to you...

I will never be ok.

You must know that.

Deep down you know.

If you dont, New York WILL change me.

Change me in the way you already see.

I cannot preform without you.

You are my first fan.

My top 3.

Remember I dont have much to begin with.

Dont think I forgot who got me here.

It was you.

All along

The Art of a Songbird.

You have to fully love every word.
Feel it to its core then let it be.
It must shatter all bravery.
It must let go of pride.
Bare naked bones.
It must be sung, that message must be heard.
Every word jumping off every taste bud.
Every time the first time.
Flighting emotional Lillypads.
For only a moment.
So brief.
So present.
You have to fully love every word.
Otherwise quit now.

www.danierinmusic.com

A Trip to the Amazon.

There are many things I don't know.  Things I may not understand but certain truths I know within the core of my being to be true.  Like when theres something in the air, a hypersensitive instinct that foreshadows a change in the tide.  The lessons of life will continue to hit you until you learn and graduate to the next stage, the problem?  It usually comes all at once.  Job, family, money..crash.  Out of balance, everything.  I sense that living in New York has a lot to do with it, its tricky to explain but I feel the lessons come to you here harder, more abrupt and at a faster rate.  It has an intense power.  Like a bully in the playground, she points out the zit on your nose.  Teases you about your freckles and calls you four-eyes.  The energy you sense, you feel and you take on.

There is stunning beauty in this mess.  In this downfall.  You repair what needs the most mending, what shattered into a million pieces right before your eyes.  New York kicks up the dust in your life.  Its more then just a bad day, the shadow it casts makes me feel as if I may never see the sun again.  When you take risks, when you leave what you know behind in search of truth within yourself you often feel like your ground is as thick as cotton candy.  You don't know of bravery or courage, when your New York lesson is about to hit.  People around you will leave, just wont understand and thats the hardest truth yet.  So your constantly justifying what you adventured to do while they judge themselves for things they didn't.  Then you remember what it took to get where you currently are.  This many will never understand.  In order to be an artist, you sign up for the highs and the lows.  And a true one NEVER happen overnight.

The lows are very deep and muddy.  I always see myself at a slow crawl.  Feels like I'm in the Amazon or something.  Mud thick to my thighs, salt dripping into the cuts from thick brush.  Each limb covered in the thickest of muck.  For miles there is no path, no clearing.  It has consumed me.  All I see is the slightest hint of pink and orange so far off in the distance I feel my mind is playing tricks on me.  The more I lift each limb, the closer I become even though its still so faint.  I have been here so many damn times, that the trees are marked by a red X.  Then I know I will find myself out of all of this.  Im used to this feeling and most things get much worst before they get better.  You get very used to being alone within your journey when you are brave enough to shed yourself of everything familiar.   There are many things I don't know, but this I know for sure.