Some days your heart just feels lousy. Sadly it’s on my day off. Some days I realize I am still running. It’s a very lonely feeling, even surrounded by my beloved touring party. It’s not their fault. I love and have loved playing music with them on this tour and I will continue to do so. I am sad because I don’t really have a home to go home to. There can be no journey without somewhere to return to and that is so ungrounding and painful it peels my fingernails off. My left eye is twitching like a motherfucker. I know I’ve talked about this before so I’m sorry if I sound like a broken record. I’m too tired of it to even feel my old reliable anger. My anger is also not accessible because it would be inappropriate considering the state of the world. I’m still getting by.
This was so welcome to me this morning. Thank you for posting about your rage. I have a couple of responses. One: Rage is a normal human emotion that so many of us try to hide and when it is hidden we ourselves and every one around us pays. So rage on. Rage on against the dying of the light! I have so much rage within me and also so much love and hope and sweetness and generosity. These are not mutually exclusive and I seek, mostly from myself, permission to rage when it is appropriate and even sometimes when it is not. Is depression rage turned inward? Perhaps. Two: I am sorry that you do not have a home to go home to and hope you will find/build one soon. I once taught a writing class called Ideas of Home. Some of my students brought in such interesting concepts. One was a large area behind a closed circle of houses that was totally open and unfenced so that everyone could easily share their dogs and Frisbees and whatever they had cooking on their grills. This area was home to this young man, not the house that fronted it. I saw a painting in a gallery once, a long time ago, of a board game. I was in my early to mid 20s and struggling with the concept of home for myself. Where was it? Who was it with? All of the squares on the board were unmarked; in the middle there was a circle that was inscribed, simply, with the word " H O M E" in large capital letters. I have had that image emblazoned in my psyche ever since. Where is home? What is it? It is at the center, in a circle. That is all I know. Sending my love and rage and everything else to you, Neko. I am such a fan of your writing, musicianship and bravery.
I have no idea where to put my rage, I struggle daily. It absolutely infiltrates all parts of my day and being yet it is shapeless. I can't conform it to control it and it's inconvenience is astounding.
Where is home? Where is peace? I hate to believe how many of us feel without a home or some peace.
Hi. I am so sorry you're going through this. I have a lot of sympathy for you.
Something happened to my home earlier this winter and it has made the last three months a living hell. I am super lucky that I'm in the process of moving and have a beautiful home in another city to go to, but not knowing when and how that is happening has made me a terrible person to be around. I think it is true that we can bear just about anything when we have a home to return to. I wish that was possible for everyone, and every little sweet animal too. Here's a little therapy adage: rage is never inappropriate, it's just what you do with it that could be. I hope you have a settled home soon soon soon.❤️
I have, on more than one occasion, gotten out all my rage out by wrapping the glass recycling in like four layers of grocery bags, then smashed it with a large gardening shovel. Really gets it out of you.
The woods. Feet in the river. Reliable, justice-minded friends who are equally enraged. Loud music in the car. A good purge of useless shit. Maybe rage is a carrion bird, here to pick bones clean.
I have an incredibly random brick balcony outside of my corporate office space, and two turkey vultures that post up there every once in a while. I always wonder what they’re looking for in the parking lot below. But they sun themselves and spread their wings and just hang. One day we got a little too close to the window and they feigned vomiting, which I googled and is a defense mechanism of theirs. We backed off. It was So Cool. #natureismetal
I totally understand the feeling of lingering anger at the state of the world. Shit sucks right now.
I think the singer David Sylvian put it best, "I wrestle with an outlook on life/That shifts between darkness and shadowy light"
Anyhow, I wanted to say thanks for the brief chat we had when I unexpectedly ran into you on one of your "off" days. Your work has very much been one of the sources of light to guide me through my own trying times.
I took my inappropriate rage out on a lot of people a few years back. I forced myself to go breathe in the smell of my horses and get my fingernails dirty in their shedding coats, and find myself back in the present, no matter where that was or how the day looked different than the last. Now, I try to acknowledge that my rage, just like my peace, is a part of the whole of me.
Bring that rage to the stage tomorrow in Pomona. I am so looking forward to hearing your voice in person again. :)
I can understand where you are coming from. I have moved more than 60 times in my life, often because of domestic issues or neighborhood crime that jeopardized my safety. I am currently at my sister's farm, in my dead mother's bedroom, with three cats. It could be a lot worse.
Like in Gaza, where my friend Maha was evicted from her home this week by the IDF, along with 60 of her family members. They are sleeping on the streets because they cannot afford tents, food, water, or anything. And I can't get money into Gaza for her, no matter how hard I try. The only money exchange that works without jumping through major hoops is Western Union, but people are getting blasted into pieces while waiting in line to try to get money out. Half the time, the Western Union doesn't even have money.
I am trying to help the people of Gaza by increasing the visibility of people's GoFundMe campaigns on Instagram, in the hopes that someone else can figure out how to get money into Gaza, even if I can't. I build fancy Instagram posts that tell the story of each person or family. I add animation, personal photos, videos, whatever they give me. I make them stand out from the crowd of people dying (literally) to get out.
A week and a half ago, Al-Shifa Hospital in Gaza was bombed and invaded. Many doctors have been kidnapped and are being tortured by having their hands broken so that they can never operate again. Hundreds of people have been executed on the hospital grounds. It's a living nightmare.
Those of us on Instagram when it first started were watching a journalist livestream the attack from inside the hospital -- all while he was hiding from the IDF, terrified. At the same time, I received a message on Instagram. It was from someone who said he was a doctor at Al-Shifa Hospital, and he wanted my help to promote his GoFundMe. I immediately suspected it was a scam, because every doctor in Al-Shifa was likely being tortured or killed at the exact time that he messaged me. I gave him a hard time, insisting that he prove his identity to me. After some questioning, he said he "knew of" two doctor friends of mine at other hospitals, and so I agreed that I believed him and would help him with his post.
Thirty minutes later, he went on an Instagram Live to explain how he, Dr. Abu Warda, had narrowly escaped being executed by the IDF, and how he ran home to try to figure out how to get out of Gaza. By reaching out to me, of all people. And I was kind of a jerk to him. His ID on Instagram is @dr_abedelwahab, if you want to help him. He's a very good man.
I'm still stunned by how incredibly small the world is, and shocked by the fact that a person in the middle of a genocide found me in a terrible moment and needed me as a lifeline. We all can be someone's lifeline, or at least try.
You do it through your music, Neko.
I do not know how people in Gaza are ever going to find a home again. I do know that I no longer worry about finding a home for myself ever again. For me, home is the people of Palestine, wherever they may be.
Thank you for sharing. I am so grateful you are here, doing what you do.
When anger comes it gets acknowledgement and then I put my energy the best I can into loving in any number of ways. And loving turkey vultures would be something I would do too. I might love a tree or the wood and grain of the floor I am staring at. I pick up trash a lot, loving mother earth. I want to cry, but years and years of jamming that down usually turns it to groaning at best. I remember kind people. Music listening and music making sometimes are healthy responses to that type of pain.
I get your anger, and I think rage comes from grief. For me it's grief for our disappearing/declining animal friends, trees, fouled rivers, lakes, all the crap the worst of the humans have foisted on this sweet fragile planet. You're allowed to feel your grief and anger. Give yourself a pass and permission. ❤️
Thank you for sharing! I too love, turkey vultures, carrion eaters.
I will be at the Santa Cruz show tonight and was going to bring my teenage daughter who was born to the sounds of your music. Last minute, she has decided not to go. This is the way of the fickle and troubled teenage heart. She is a wild creature and rather unpredictable! I have a bit of a bruised heart, but all will be well. She must be her own person and she must pull away from mom, as we all must in order to become our own people. With her, it is a violent pulling away. I may be wounded, but I will heal.
I take great comfort in being able to travel on my own now, and explore the world as just me. I was a wife and mother for 20 years, and that defined my life. It is different now, it is painful, but it is necessary.
This was so welcome to me this morning. Thank you for posting about your rage. I have a couple of responses. One: Rage is a normal human emotion that so many of us try to hide and when it is hidden we ourselves and every one around us pays. So rage on. Rage on against the dying of the light! I have so much rage within me and also so much love and hope and sweetness and generosity. These are not mutually exclusive and I seek, mostly from myself, permission to rage when it is appropriate and even sometimes when it is not. Is depression rage turned inward? Perhaps. Two: I am sorry that you do not have a home to go home to and hope you will find/build one soon. I once taught a writing class called Ideas of Home. Some of my students brought in such interesting concepts. One was a large area behind a closed circle of houses that was totally open and unfenced so that everyone could easily share their dogs and Frisbees and whatever they had cooking on their grills. This area was home to this young man, not the house that fronted it. I saw a painting in a gallery once, a long time ago, of a board game. I was in my early to mid 20s and struggling with the concept of home for myself. Where was it? Who was it with? All of the squares on the board were unmarked; in the middle there was a circle that was inscribed, simply, with the word " H O M E" in large capital letters. I have had that image emblazoned in my psyche ever since. Where is home? What is it? It is at the center, in a circle. That is all I know. Sending my love and rage and everything else to you, Neko. I am such a fan of your writing, musicianship and bravery.
I have no idea where to put my rage, I struggle daily. It absolutely infiltrates all parts of my day and being yet it is shapeless. I can't conform it to control it and it's inconvenience is astounding.
Where is home? Where is peace? I hate to believe how many of us feel without a home or some peace.
Hi. I am so sorry you're going through this. I have a lot of sympathy for you.
Something happened to my home earlier this winter and it has made the last three months a living hell. I am super lucky that I'm in the process of moving and have a beautiful home in another city to go to, but not knowing when and how that is happening has made me a terrible person to be around. I think it is true that we can bear just about anything when we have a home to return to. I wish that was possible for everyone, and every little sweet animal too. Here's a little therapy adage: rage is never inappropriate, it's just what you do with it that could be. I hope you have a settled home soon soon soon.❤️
I keep my rage in a pretty little box in the bottom of my closet. I take it out and play with it on rainy days.
I have, on more than one occasion, gotten out all my rage out by wrapping the glass recycling in like four layers of grocery bags, then smashed it with a large gardening shovel. Really gets it out of you.
The woods. Feet in the river. Reliable, justice-minded friends who are equally enraged. Loud music in the car. A good purge of useless shit. Maybe rage is a carrion bird, here to pick bones clean.
I have an incredibly random brick balcony outside of my corporate office space, and two turkey vultures that post up there every once in a while. I always wonder what they’re looking for in the parking lot below. But they sun themselves and spread their wings and just hang. One day we got a little too close to the window and they feigned vomiting, which I googled and is a defense mechanism of theirs. We backed off. It was So Cool. #natureismetal
My inappropriate rage usually fuels house cleaning efforts. Or I direct it at my local politicians! Either way I try to use it for good.
You are not alone. Wanderers should rest. Take care of yourself.
I totally understand the feeling of lingering anger at the state of the world. Shit sucks right now.
I think the singer David Sylvian put it best, "I wrestle with an outlook on life/That shifts between darkness and shadowy light"
Anyhow, I wanted to say thanks for the brief chat we had when I unexpectedly ran into you on one of your "off" days. Your work has very much been one of the sources of light to guide me through my own trying times.
This makes me sad to know that I guess your place in VT doesn’t really feel like home (?) 😕 ❤️🩹
I took my inappropriate rage out on a lot of people a few years back. I forced myself to go breathe in the smell of my horses and get my fingernails dirty in their shedding coats, and find myself back in the present, no matter where that was or how the day looked different than the last. Now, I try to acknowledge that my rage, just like my peace, is a part of the whole of me.
Bring that rage to the stage tomorrow in Pomona. I am so looking forward to hearing your voice in person again. :)
I can understand where you are coming from. I have moved more than 60 times in my life, often because of domestic issues or neighborhood crime that jeopardized my safety. I am currently at my sister's farm, in my dead mother's bedroom, with three cats. It could be a lot worse.
Like in Gaza, where my friend Maha was evicted from her home this week by the IDF, along with 60 of her family members. They are sleeping on the streets because they cannot afford tents, food, water, or anything. And I can't get money into Gaza for her, no matter how hard I try. The only money exchange that works without jumping through major hoops is Western Union, but people are getting blasted into pieces while waiting in line to try to get money out. Half the time, the Western Union doesn't even have money.
I am trying to help the people of Gaza by increasing the visibility of people's GoFundMe campaigns on Instagram, in the hopes that someone else can figure out how to get money into Gaza, even if I can't. I build fancy Instagram posts that tell the story of each person or family. I add animation, personal photos, videos, whatever they give me. I make them stand out from the crowd of people dying (literally) to get out.
A week and a half ago, Al-Shifa Hospital in Gaza was bombed and invaded. Many doctors have been kidnapped and are being tortured by having their hands broken so that they can never operate again. Hundreds of people have been executed on the hospital grounds. It's a living nightmare.
Those of us on Instagram when it first started were watching a journalist livestream the attack from inside the hospital -- all while he was hiding from the IDF, terrified. At the same time, I received a message on Instagram. It was from someone who said he was a doctor at Al-Shifa Hospital, and he wanted my help to promote his GoFundMe. I immediately suspected it was a scam, because every doctor in Al-Shifa was likely being tortured or killed at the exact time that he messaged me. I gave him a hard time, insisting that he prove his identity to me. After some questioning, he said he "knew of" two doctor friends of mine at other hospitals, and so I agreed that I believed him and would help him with his post.
Thirty minutes later, he went on an Instagram Live to explain how he, Dr. Abu Warda, had narrowly escaped being executed by the IDF, and how he ran home to try to figure out how to get out of Gaza. By reaching out to me, of all people. And I was kind of a jerk to him. His ID on Instagram is @dr_abedelwahab, if you want to help him. He's a very good man.
I'm still stunned by how incredibly small the world is, and shocked by the fact that a person in the middle of a genocide found me in a terrible moment and needed me as a lifeline. We all can be someone's lifeline, or at least try.
You do it through your music, Neko.
I do not know how people in Gaza are ever going to find a home again. I do know that I no longer worry about finding a home for myself ever again. For me, home is the people of Palestine, wherever they may be.
Thank you for sharing. I am so grateful you are here, doing what you do.
When anger comes it gets acknowledgement and then I put my energy the best I can into loving in any number of ways. And loving turkey vultures would be something I would do too. I might love a tree or the wood and grain of the floor I am staring at. I pick up trash a lot, loving mother earth. I want to cry, but years and years of jamming that down usually turns it to groaning at best. I remember kind people. Music listening and music making sometimes are healthy responses to that type of pain.
Hi Neko, I love vultures too. I wrote a song about a mama vulture re-arranging the bones, here tis: https://soundcloud.com/voneconomo/krakatoa
I get your anger, and I think rage comes from grief. For me it's grief for our disappearing/declining animal friends, trees, fouled rivers, lakes, all the crap the worst of the humans have foisted on this sweet fragile planet. You're allowed to feel your grief and anger. Give yourself a pass and permission. ❤️
Thank you for sharing! I too love, turkey vultures, carrion eaters.
I will be at the Santa Cruz show tonight and was going to bring my teenage daughter who was born to the sounds of your music. Last minute, she has decided not to go. This is the way of the fickle and troubled teenage heart. She is a wild creature and rather unpredictable! I have a bit of a bruised heart, but all will be well. She must be her own person and she must pull away from mom, as we all must in order to become our own people. With her, it is a violent pulling away. I may be wounded, but I will heal.
I take great comfort in being able to travel on my own now, and explore the world as just me. I was a wife and mother for 20 years, and that defined my life. It is different now, it is painful, but it is necessary.