Television is addictive, venting is theraputic.

September 18
3:18 pm
There is a tom cruise movie on now.
Come on Jim, you can’t be serious about watching this.
I can’t avoid the tv situation because wireless internet only works in the living room.
Tom is young and she is hot
And the music wow… Brian Eno?
Oh this is Risky Business... I’ve never seen this movie.
(google search… goose hunt… oh it’s Tangerine Dream… download, download.)

Jim and Mark are out.
I stay in when they go out… I like having the place to myself.
Is this what London’s done to me?
I need solitude right now in life, as there is way too much on my mind.

Last night we played the Living Room
Which was surprisingly full…
‘tis was the best show we’ve had so far…
Chairs and all. There was a dance party by the last song…
Yes! A few brave guys & girls couldn’t help it!
(easy exclamation girl)

We lost a few older women in the front row.
They were holding their ears and I knew drummer,
Jim, who beats the life out of his kit for Scotland,
was to blame.

Or maybe they didn’t like my dress.
Or Markie’s bandanna
No he wasn’t wearing one of those.
The set was slightly rearranged, & we did New Shoes
For those who’ve been asking for it…

The boys bailed on me after the show.
This is because one of my friends was wasted… the boys run from her because
after the last two shows, she’s picked up each of them and swung them around like rag dolls… declaring her love and undying support.
When I asked them to come with us, they grimaced and made some excuse about the weather. I watched them speed down Houston
Waving at all the cabs...
They haven’t figured out which lights on mean its free.
Run for your life!
Us girls went to Nublu…
It didn’t feel too bad to be packed into a dark room because
A good band was playing...
The girl was wicked… stoned out of her mind…
I spent a good amount of time jumping between heavy conversations on each side of me.
This sobered me up. More beer didn’t help.
My dear friend Susan who played with me on the Duran tour swears…
“Beer? No way, I won’t touch the stuff. All my friends who drink it, 5 years later, Fatties!!! Uh huh, think about it, and it makes your breath stink. I’d rather be a wino!”
Oh god, only a girl who grew up in LA can get away with talking like this.
I love you Susan. Props to her band Stimulator. And God save her from the devil she’s playing with.

September 19
Hello Full Day.
I’m on a train to Boston
And in need of a distraction
Here comes the mother of all entries...

I woke up early.
Early is 9:15.
After one cup of tea because coffee’s on the outs... damn Starbucks!
I walked over to NYSC on 41st and 3rd to run, runner, run.
I feel better, so much better
When I’m not being a lazy tart and run a few miles.
I got home at 11:15 am and went for a shower, then started to put together a plate of food...
This means I opened the freezer, opened a box of veggie burgers dropped the turd on the floor and put it in the microwave. Add some spinach and a tomato and lunch is served.

And then Killjoy called at 11:43
“I’m sorry Jules I know you must be running out the door…”
“PHILLLLLLL hello hello hello how are you???”
“I’m good how are you Ms. Richardson?”
“Just making some food, freshly showered and getting my s*** together..”
“Oh, your car must be there by now.”
“Now? I thought it wasn’t’ coming until 12:30?”
“Oh, no… 11:45… the Billboard Dance Music Summit Panel thing... remember?”
“No, yes, of course… but I thought the email said 12:30…?”
“No Jules, it said 11:45”
“You have to be there for 12;30”
“Shit, I’ve gotta go, I look like a wet rag right now.”
(I have to go from Union Square to Penn Station and take a train to Boston/)
“sweet mother, not again…"

Panic, adrenaline, fear, oh god I should’ve packed last night. I ran to my computer to check the itinerary…There is was… 11:45 pick up. Where was the Amtrak reservation number?

Luckily I had packed a bag the night before with the brown dress that doesn’t wrinkle
Red shoes, make up, strapless bra…
The phone rang again..
“Is that my sweet Juliet?
“Oh, oh, hi Daddy, not now, I’m so late there’s this debate ( I mean panel) I have to go do and a train and a show in Boston and I’m so late cuz I thought the car was coming at 12:30, wait how are you? I mean your back, How was Aruba, no wait I can’t talk, can you call me tomorrow? I’m sorry, love you I’m sorry I don’t mean to be mean okay bye”

I slammed the phone back on the wall feeling twice as bad, here's to my good day and great week and I’m only 5 minutes late what’s the big deal.
I have to eat something
I made it down to the car 5 minutes later.
Na pas mal!

Billboard Panel: The Me Generation
I put on too much eye liner in the car
which only made the wet hair and poor clothing choice worse.
(I look like I’m heading to Target, but at least I was only 10 minutes late.)
They nice lady at the registration table couldn’t find my pass and while they made me another I thought of the points I’d considered this week...

There was a good amount of time spent thinking about the current state of the industry
My place
Your place
& shelve spac

I tried some things on for size…

The creative revolution: interesting, go on…
Digital technology enables anyone to become an artist / publishers…
True, hence the appeal of myspace…
Often by building off of each others work..
Signal or Noise?
Is all art derivative? Yes! its all influenced…
Where does the river begin or end? S***, none of this is helping.

A few more wrong turns had me reaching…
I wrote Sam an email hoping he’d be able to turn on the lights.
“Its all evil… all of it.”
“Come on Sam, that’s a given… deeper, I haven’t used my brain in 5 years, help!”
“Just tell the truth, you know what you think about this all, write it down and don’t think about it again until your asked a question."

Pass in hand, I walked into the main room and stared at the chairs and tables in front of me. Some cool chic from the West started asking me questions and I took my sneakers off in a vain attempt to ground myself.
Publicist Tracy walked up in a cute skirt and smile, she’d filled me in on the flu she’d just go over and poured me a glass of water.
I drank up.
Michael was around the corner.
Small talk and smiles, I like you Michael, you make me smile...
No, I haven’t seen Stuart…yes her new records going to be amazing.
Tracy was on a mission so I followed her around another corner, and she started making introductions. A nice woman had cool pants on… I zoned out for a minute begging for help. I didn’t realize the people I’d just met were the ones I’d be sitting next to on my first panel.

We took our seats, the room filled out and everybody started introducing themselves and (oh s***) giving a bit of background information…

Hello my name is Juliet Richardson I’m an artist on Virgin and I’ll be answering questions… (dumb, honestly, that was it?)

The discussion began and paranoia set in… I don’t know the answer & she’s bound to call on me soon. Here were mighty men and women speaking confidently about their endeavors, jobs, and purpose… what the hell am I doing here?
I opened up my notebook and started drawing.

Oh god, she’s addressing me… You’re here representing the artist’s viewpoint. ..
I heard myself talking…
The best thing about Myspace… (discourse on blogging)
But then I felt the tide turn and my mouth wouldn’t stop… this is so necessary today because the digitization of artists & music is sucking out what little soul is left in music.
Artists aren’t real anymore, we’re brands, products…
As disposable as pens. It’s almost impossible to make an impact because the markets
So oversaturated and mediocrity reigns… I didn’t stop. S***. I should’ve two minutes ago.
And kids aren’t fans… they’re over stimulated guinea pigs (did I just say that?)
The advertising is nonstop and abusive
How do I cut through in a world where Crazy Frog is making and selling records?
All I can do right now is look for places where an organic, human connection can be made... Blogging, myspace, my live show..
The point is to be real…uninhibited and honest...
not just a brand being over hyped and undersold.

They were just staring at me, all of them.
I am a giant green squirrel playing ring around the rosie with imaginary friends.
Joe Armenia asked me what the downside of blogging was…
I thought of a few manic fans who sent me multiple myspace messages…

she moved onto the next topic and others made the points they came to…
but I was thinking about the one I just tried to make… does anyone realize what we’re being turned into?

Moving forward and keeping up with the times sounds good and the panel had good ideas and points… I couldn’t help but drift away…

My experience these last 2 years has felt more like treading water…
How to relate to this Me Generation?
Technology advances and humans devolve.
In my world no one’s fighting or even keeping up with the trends.
We’re running into brick walls making wishes.
Let’s have it, who here knows how to break an electronic dance artist?
The vision was clear, the record was made and the men who I needed to fight for me, were MIA when I needed them to have a little bit of faith.
Instead there was ass covering and blame passing…
It's so pointless.
Why is everyone so damn good at doing what’s already been done?

“No Sir, to answer your question a major label deal doesn’t guarantee anything… Because no dance artist has crossed over in two decades, nobody really knows what they’re doing, though everyone likes the idea and record. A top 40 UK hit plus two No. 1’s on the club chart here equated to 300 records the first week…(gasps! Don’t stop now… go for it). Overall, there’s very little follow through on countless good ideas and long list of excuses… what am I to do when I’m being told the head of radio doesn’t get me, so they’re not even trying?” Surrender?

One of the Sony guys took aim and fired back…
I started at a quote I had scrawled in my notebook yesterday…

They didn’t hear a word I said, I don’t make any sense, God I wish I had a filter, I just pulled a Dean didn’t I?

“If you don’t tell the truth about yourself, you cannot tell it about other people.” (Virginia Woolf, The Leaning Tower)

“Majors have money and resources..."

Oh s***, yes, your totally right…I’m a fool, I’d be waitressing in Philly again if I wasn’t on one. What was the point I was trying to make?
It’s the follow through & return that’s not guaranteed and the process is demoralizing!
Those products are actual people! Don’t forget this at your nice desks in comfortable chairs -- you are deciding our fate from ten to six. Your day job is our real life. We don’t have another one to go home to… this pipe dream is everything. Maybe 1% of us get nice homes, cars, families, severance deals… like you do. While our dreams are being dangled before our eyes… we make concessions and pray we don’t become another casualty. I’m not saying you don’t deserve your lot in life… but every time you sign and drop an artist… do you suffer? Have you had to experience the despair and disappointment or never ending dance with inadequacy like one of your artist has?

I was drowning in thought and on damage patrol for the rest of the discussion. I kept doodling.

And then Tracy stood up at 10 of 2 and called me away…
There is a God, I have to be at Penn Station in a half hour.

I wanted to put a band aid over the gaping hole I’d just made but the only thing that came out my mouth was…“I’m not jaded, I promise.” There was laughter and Joe smiled as I shook a few hands and ran for my life. I didn’t know if I’d just made myself out to be a moron or a vigilante…oh well. I had a long train ride to over analyze and regret.

September 20

The show in Boston was pretty good.
A lot better than last week, even though my brother couldn’t make it and we used the programmed bass we’d rocked all summer.
3 is better than none.
What a difference.
Bass on track or live. No effen comparison. I can’t believe we played half the summer like this. But there was no getting around his real job...
And we had a hell of a night anyway…
In typical feast or famine fashion, there was a radio party before hand…
The people that Brian had asked for were there, and I was happy that more
kids showed up… as well as the 7 from last week.
The drive back wasn’t so bad.
Rockstar Mark spread out on the backseat and was asleep before I could fight him for it (faker)
Have you ever tried Dunkin Donuts latte’s?
Intense, party in the mouth… its like drinking hot ice cream, just the sort of sugar rush I want after the longest day of my life.

I’m going to waste all of today and not think about Wednesday’s Rothko show.
S***, I still haven’t made dentist plans
Or found shoes to match my new blue made in India dress for tomorrow.

touch-me-not (noun)
1. See jewelweed
2. See sensitive plant n. 1

and Sam said, forget the shoes
just go barefoot.

Jim & Mark have been living out loud in NY.
They are really going for it here.
What a life!
Jim should be writing this damn diary...

Or maybe not, he swears he doesn’t remember the 3 times he’s pulled his pants down this week… and asked me to spank his ass at 4 am...
I’ve got to try and see my girlfriends in Philly this weekend.
Maybe I can go to the dentist on Friday, have a sleep over and meet the boys at the venue…

Later… much later

I finally had dinner with one of my best friends in the world… who has yet to dump me even though I don’t write him back for months at a time. Mr. Merrick I presume? Correct as usual King Friday. My hero! I walked the wrong direction en route to meet him and was 20 minutes late. Where has my sense of direction gone? If only I had a better excuse. So we go to a little Italian place at the axis of the universe and jump right into psycho therapy, capitalism and commitments.

At some point he reprimanded me for being so egocentric (don’t pretend you haven’t noticed) and dinner was awesome, I haven’t had gnocchi in ages and hell has frozen because I drank white wine. He told me about the ice queen who’s never thawed and this is the first time I’ve felt normal since I got here. I’ve been stressed and relatively antisocial for two weeks. (This is the London Effect..) He reminds me as an overachiever I’m prone to forget the many factors involved in putting on a show these days and to chill out a bit and enjoy the ride… oh god, I’m trying, but wait that’s what I’m doing wrong, right? We had a nightcap and I told him about the boy I’m trying not to think about because of a hundred bulls*** reasons and he decided
You’re afraid to be vulnerable…empty out those plastic boxes and let go..
“But a relationship doesn’t even register as a possibility in my world because I’ve been so consumed with 3 other things and it’s become a vacuum or an ornate room I can’t find a way out of. But I really like the wall paper and lighting..."
Eff off and die a miserable crow or take a risk! (bitch! Tell it like it is!)

September 21
Tonight is the big show. I have my best dress and found a pair of chocolate brown shoes that don’t really match but I just bought them before I jumped in this cab and I can’t believe it all comes down to a second slot showcase at Rothko tonight. There are a few things to consider in the middle of my nerves...
Like the truth about my current situation…
I’ve just found out a majority of the label and most importantly the men who say yes or no
To our proposed plans & budgets will be down for this one.
No one's saying it out loud but I imagine this is the make or break it night.

We are the only band that doesn’t get a soundcheck, but Dan swears it will be fine just like last week and I’m repeating I am not afraid. No I am! I’m not. I am scared s***less. I am not. Stop it. Okay. At least Phil’s flown in for this one. He’s got my back no matter what.

I jumped out of the cab on Mulberry and walked through the festivities to distract myself…
The words they put on t-shirts and the back of booty shorts are so funny. Do people wear these things in places other than this street? The smoke from all those sausages was overwhelming. I started running. I went too far. I stood at the Brooklyn Bridge trying to remember where Suffolk was from there. I should be kept in a box in someone’s attic.

September 22
I can’t function
Not today
I don’t remember my middle name.
But It’s my grandmothers first so think… harder.
Oh god…. I didn’t go to bed until 6 am this morning…
What a night.
We did it.
Last night I mean, we nailed it... to some degree and one other…
The show was everything I could hope for... given our means and current position.
Phil flew in and I believed him when he spoke of how proud he was.
We all had a blast. I spoke with many Virgins and kids and everyone was smiling afterwards. The cool bartender who swore he’d sing the end of you Get What You Give wasn’t there, because his girlfriend had a show somewhere… this was the only let down.
Oh wait… the sound was horrible on stage. I remember this, I don’t know if my monitors were even on… During the first song I wanted to make a joke about it to Dan but took my shoes off instead. This has become a habit. I hope it’s not a big deal, although writing about it here might make more out of it than I intend to anyway... it’s just easier to dance barefoot and I wish I didn’t have to wear shoes in general. Maybe if I become a folk singer next, I’ll wear 10 inch heels. Never. That’s a bad joke. The heels I mean.
Meanwhile I can exhale. I can be a kid in NY again.
Well you know, everyone talks, but the truth is in the money they sign off on.
Okay, not yet at least. Effen kill joy, you're not allowed to talk, Phil.
Whatever I don’t care. I’m so gloriously hungover I don’t give a damn about any of it anymore. Not today.
Phil’s got a few meetings and he’s leaving tonight…
There were so many people I haven’t seen in ages there last night… it was effen good.
Mark and Jim have disappeared… I wonder if they’ve found women?
I’m going to walk uptown instead of down tonight. At least I won’t get lost.
I don’t have a voice.
Where did it go?
I can hardly speak today.
I don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep…
I hung out all night with my friend Jo who lives in DUMBO and I got to paint for a few hours between 2 and 5 am. I haven’t gotten to do this since I left Philly. I am so glad that show is over! I hate all that sort of pressure. I wish I could’ve shut my brain off for this last week…
Enough, I don’t want to type anymore.

September 23
I’m sick.
What the f?
I feel like I got hit by a train.
I can’t even talk.
My head feels like a cement block.
Have I been in NY too long?
Did I get a flu?
Oh god how will I be able to sing tomorrow?
I can’t think about it.

September 24
I can’t talk.
I have no voice.
We can’t cancel this show… we cancelled last Saturdays because of CMJ
And it's Philly!
I need a miracle.
Jim looks a bit worried.
I don’t know what to do.
Shut up.
Don’t say a word.
Maybe if I don’t talk, I’ll have just enough to make it through tonight.
I keep trying to sing, but I’m missing my whole middle register.
This is a tragedy!
Where did it go?
I can sing high and low…
This means I have no chorus voice…
Were about to leave for Philly.
I need a miracle.

Read Juliet's previous entry.

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