On This Day: 2/16/16

Every so often, I’ll dip back into my Morning Pages to find an entry from this day in my history, and reproduce it here.

Dear god, another two weeks have elapsed since last I cracked open this journal. It’s been a month since I moved into my new apartment, and it is finally starting to feel like mine, yet I haven’t spent much time there, except to sleep. Two weeks ago, I taught four yoga classes, and last week I taught three—seven total from Wednesday to Wednesday, that on top of my 40+ hour per week day job. Add that to band practice and recordings and I’m feeling maxed out.

Yesterday, finally, I had a true day to my Self, and I got a lot accomplished. I did some freelance audio editing, fit in a good run at a fast 6’54/mile pace [holy shit, I actually cannot believe I ever ran that fast for any length of time], and played a show with As 40 Sleeps at fucking Phyllis’ Musical Inn. Lord, how I despise that place. But before our show, I walked down the street to eat a sandwich at Jerry’s. While I was sitting there, feeling pissed off that we were playing so late (midnight!), a gent sat down next to me at the bar. 

You are really pulling off that scarf, my man.

“Oh, thanks!” It was the one that Hailey (my 15-year-old niece) crocheted me for Christmas, and I told him so.

Yeah, he said, I tried that scarf thing once and I ended up looking like Helen Mirren. I laughed—hard—and we had a good, long conversation about Wicker Park in the 1990s, the gentrification of Chicago, Ron Carter, Michael Jackson, House music, day jobs, playing with soul goddammit, the devaluation of art and attention in the age of social media, etc. He was a really interesting and thought-provoking dude. We exchanged business cards before I excused myself to Phyllis’. His name was Jevon Jackson, apparently a really well-known House DJ in Chicago for decades. He told me to hit him up some time. What a cool dude.

Liz Phair in Wicker Park in the 90s. Photo by Marty Perez

That conversation with Jevon really made me love/hate our set at Phyllis’. 

I loved it, in that our conversation truly informed my musicality that night. I think I played with more soul (goddammit) and more awareness than I usually do, and especially with this band [compared with my performances with MIDWEST^]. And I hated it in that I was acutely aware of the people who were dancing to our music: snobby young sons and daughters of wealth, who were sneering through a night out, not at the fancy bars and restaurants they (no doubt) frequent, but making the extra trek to rip Schlitz at one of Chicago’s dwindling “dive” bars. I guess what I’m trying to say is I felt like a fraud, playing music for a bunch of bigger frauds. 

Milwaukee, North and Damen in 1988. Photo by Jeff Wassmann

I want to live as authentically as possible. I want to live authentically, if possible.

Be authentic. Be real. Single-task whenever possible. Keep an eye on the finish line, but don’t forget to watch the ground passing underfoot.

Alexis, myself, and Jack Brett. Photo by Crystal Lynn circa 2016

[^My former band MIDWEST’s music below:]