follow me or perish, sweater monkeys.

love them!
the biscuit
the little owl
the fauxhemian
the autoblography
geese aplenty
sarah b
easy tiger
this fish

something positive
the onion
cat and girl
diesel sweeties


the guide
grey dog
the manhattan bridge
junior's deli
7th avenue books
chip shop

get inside
by any other name
100 things about the perpetrator

shivery is terribly fond of:
bluegrass music. double basses. the flatiron building. marion's. paris. the color pink. cherry motifs. alias. good scotch. garter belts. combat boots. full skirts. the q train.

shivery has a distate for:
flying. spiders. express trains during rushhour. crowds. pretension. standard transmissions. hipsters. weekend service on the mta. fresno. men who grope (without express permission). the decline of democracy. gin in winter. liver. the horoscopes in the new york post. williamsburg. ralph nader's presidential campaign.

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shivery's guide to new york 1: naidre's cafe

if you go by, be sure to read their clapboardi decided to start this guide close to home--ten blocks away, to be precise. located at 384 7th avenue in brooklyn's south slope, naidre's cafe is known for its super friendly staff, killer smoothies and sandwiches, great coffee and the ever-rotating message on its clapboard outside (a personal favorite: 'let's solve the middle east conflict the american way -- celebrity boxing!'). just a stone's throw from the 7th ave F stop (and around the corner from the biscuit), this 12-seat cafe is a really popular destination for south slopers: woe unto him who tries to get an actual chair on a saturday or sunday. but fret not, liebchens, because the lovelies at naidre's will pack up any of their specialties to go; they'll even assemble a picnic basket  (sandwich, drink, cookie and piece of fruit) for you--perfect for a day in prospect park (five blocks or so away)!
needless to say, i'm a big fan of this place--it was my first destination on september 12, 2001; it was my favorite place to grab a quick nosh pre-buffy; it's one of the places i go when i need to rekindle my love affair with brooklyn and a mandatory stop for all out of town guests.
PLUS, if you swing by in the summer, you just might get some free apples!

personal favorites: the tuna sandwich (my favorite tuna sammich in the city); peach and blueberry smoothies; the 7th avenue; sesame bagels with sun-dried tomato cream cheese; peanut butter cookies and the iced coffee. oh yeah.

be sure to say hi to zac.

want to see more?

writ at 11/10/2003 7:55:05 pm by shivery
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what with idle hands being the devil's playground and all, we're making a pre-emptive strike to ensure the winter blues make no more progress in their onslaught. which means--you guessed it! project! watch this space for something fascinating and fabulous: shivery's guide to new york. once or twice a week, i'm going to be profiling one of my favorite places in new york fuckin' city (schedule dependent on how often i can kidnap people's digis), so you too can have a love/hate relationship with the city that never sleeps. suggestions, questions and comments are always welcome.

brace yourself, yo.

writ at 11/10/2003 6:09:42 pm by shivery
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row diland

so, rhode island rocks my face. autumn leaves, lunar eclipse, good friends, good food, fireplace, cliff walk, ocean view, rhonda the honda, rehoboth, clean air, stars, alias marathon, wine and whiskey, smoking, scarves, quiet, respite, coffee and croissants, vacation, not new york, different and lovely.

it was a kick-ass minibreak and it was everything i wanted it to be.

writ at 11/10/2003 11:24:46 am by shivery
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hey, baby

my friend mica just had a baby. his name is oliver.

good god, we're getting older. shocking.

writ at 11/7/2003 3:03:19 pm by shivery
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i find that the more shows i do, the less i have to say about them; i suppose that's a good sign, that i'm becoming a professional and growing as a musician. i also suppose it's a little disapponting, because the more competent i become as a performer, the fewer and further between come the jittery pre-show butterflies that make the whole thing so...singular. which is not to say that i wasn't having a good time, of course. i had a great time up there, and i like to think that i was very, very on, with the exception of the bridge to detour. that ended up a bit of a mess. let us discuss it no more. there was much in the way of screaming and yelling and yodeling (from me; from the audience there was good-natured heckling, thanks in no small part to the World's Sluttiest Topô and the leather pants) as well as some proper banter once i got comfortable--about halfway through the set. i sometimes wish that i could get two-hour sets, because i don't really hit my stride until about six songs in.

and the funny thing is, i didn't really think about r. while i was up there, beyond an awareness of his presence in some of the music. even when i was playing the new song, even when i was shrieking the chorus to 'hallelujah' (a song i'm certain i've forever ruined for him), even when i was singing the song i wrote about our twilight days as a pair. before and after, oh yes. a great deal. painfully so. but while i was up there, during the time that had kept me up the night before with worry for my own ability to soldier on, he was merely a peripheral thought. for some reason, i find that absolutely uproarious. in a perverse, metaphysical way, however, it makes sense: in order to get through the set, i had to squeeze all the emotions i'm feeling about him out of it. which meant that they spilled out into the preamble and the postscript. or something. but i think that's a nice image. kind of like a lovelorn cannoli, if that makes any sense.

anyway. for the first time in about ten months, i walked out of the orange bear without a set next booking. i was tired, and i'm tired of playing there, to be perfectly honest. it's been my primary venue for nearly a year, and it's time to start putting my nose back to the grindstone and selling myself to new venues. or take a couple months off. whichever. and if that doesn't work out, i have an open invitation to call in and book another show (behold, the power of scantily clad bosoms when you're dealing with a male booking agent).

but don't worry, i'll still be around. in open mics, in the studio and in your dreams.

writ at 11/7/2003 9:31:40 am by shivery
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go south, young woman!

the deadline to apply for SXSW is tomorrow.
i threw together my application package in just over a half hour, from running out for cds to burning them to filling out the form to breathlessly handing the whole damn thing over to the overnight courier.

it was quite a rush, let me tell you. something very nice about flexing those hyperspeed muscles.

and while i don't really harbor any hope in hell of actually being admitted (this is, after all, the most hard core live music festival in the continental united states), it is like anything else: if you don't try, you'll never know. and i want to know.

if i could insert sound effects, this is where you'd find the one of the hat falling quietly into the ring.

writ at 11/6/2003 1:29:11 pm by shivery
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everything that has a beginning has an ending.

i find it funny that this year's matrix offerings are irrevocably marked as bookends to this year's love. the night 'reloaded' came out was the night i announced that i'd been dating r. for two weeks and that i really liked him--i was busting out the big seduction guns (goat's cheese and cranberry risotto) and everything. last night was 'revolutions,' which found me sitting in the theater, left cold by the film and musing on the passing of that particular happiness, wondering when or if i'll get to make that kind of announcement again. wondering if i really would ever make my peace with him. and finally hoping for it.

funny. but at least it takes the sting out of how utterly disappointing the films were. and for these small mercies are we grateful.

in other news, i am wearing leather pants and will be playing a show in downtown manhattan. and i'd love to see you.

writ at 11/6/2003 10:43:56 am by shivery
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words that this year have utterly ruined for me


what words do you have trouble looking in the eye?

writ at 11/5/2003 10:35:38 am by shivery
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small pleasures

contentment is a new song that you don't want to stop playing, even though your fingers are very clearly about to bleed.

i was so scared that i wouldn't be able to write about this, about anything, be able to write ever again. four weeks of being virtually unable to lift my guitar without falling to pieces, i felt like a piece of me was dying, like my last hope was lost. four weeks of having stones in my heart and lead in my tongue, four weeks of terror that i had lost what was more important to me than anything in the world. four weeks of having lost myself. four weeks of having lost my voice.

but it came back. my voice came back. and she's quiet, and she's tired, and she hurts all over and she still cries a lot. but she's come home.

though i will never forgive myself for letting him walk out the door with my confessional heart, even though it didn't stay away long, i will always find my solace in the knowledge that it loved me enough to come home. even if he didn't.

one of these days i'll forget that i love you
forget that you said my love stood in your way
one of these days i will find i forgive you
one of these days i'll get over you
but not today

isn't it funny how weakness makes so much more sense in lyric form?

writ at 11/4/2003 10:14:39 pm by shivery
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about bloody time.

holy mother of god, i've almost finished a new song. a NEW SONG. at long, long, long last. to be crass, i feel the way you feel when you vomit after getting really drunk. it smells funny, it's kind of painful, you don't really want to be doing it...but your head is so much clearer once you do. that's how i feel. cleaner.

and i just compared my songwriting to vomiting. probably not the best metaphor i could have chosen.

p.s. it occurs to me that i should probably unpack the vomit metaphor a little's not so much that i feel that gross post-vomit aftermath feeing, it's that i feel better, like i've dislodged something from my throat and can now breathe again...and yes, that metaphor is much better, isn't it? it's like i'm breathing again, finally.

writ at 11/4/2003 11:09:26 am by shivery
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