May 19th, 2008

Summers here again- a welcome sight in a year that saw snow as late as May. I'm up before dawn again for no good reason. So much has happened in this past month that has been impossible to contain in words. Things about death, love, falling from illusion and personal Will. Things about friends and remarkable coincidence, and god, and fate. My head is spinning in light of the things I've seen. I keep wondering- why me? How did I get this? Life feels really full in every direction.

This trip to Europe snuck up on us, partially because I had my head bent over the drawing table for the three weeks prior, coming up with merch and logo ideas for Deaner's fishing show. I was extremely excited when he asked me to help him out, but also petrified- being the woman who hit the floor the first time she heard GodWeenSatan. It's strange when your symbolic reality and actuality slam into each other and you have to pick apart and re-define the pieces. Anyway, it literally felt like i put my head down, started drawing, came up with some stuff, emailed it to Deaner, looked up at the calender and suddenly realized three weeks had passed. We left for Eurpoe two days later.

We flew into Paris, the only city I'd spent considerable time in abroad. It was just as I remembered it, romantic and brooding. I love Paris, even the dirty parts. Especially the dirty parts. Our hotel, Hotel Camelia, was wonderful, authentically Parisian and very old.

It had no elevator and a dramatic spiraling staircase.

The staff was hospitable, helpful and very patient with our shitty french. This place felt like it was owned by a family. We had our morning coffee in the basement, which was so tiny and quaint that I could touch the ceiling (i'm 5'2"). I don't even know how to describe the interior- it was very unique and eclectic. I felt like i had stepped into a fairy tale. Maybe I have.

The stairs down to the basement were spiraled also, but instead of sweeping and open, it was as if they'd been carved in relief into limestone. It was very unusual and cool.

We visited the Pere Lachaise Cemetary on our trek around Paris. I have spent a lot of time in graveyards but this was the most spectacular I've seen.

It's reputed to be one of the most heavily visited burial sites in the world- and i can see why. It's beautiful and hosts the remains of many notables throughout history, including but not limited to Oscar Wilde, Theodore Gericault, Clarence John Laughlin, Marcel Marceau, Camille Pissarro, and Jim Morrison. The tombs were way beyond simple gravestones... some were set up as private alters, which you could enter and pray in peace. There was stained glass and a preponderance of strange permanent flowers- both silk and ceramic.

I really love this grave. I appreciate the tackiness- it reminds me of traditional tattoo work.

Shittily, I got sick later that day and was laid up in our hotel room for two days with the runs. SO lame. I don't know if it was the airplane tank water, the nachos, or the old religious guys cursing and spitting at me on the street. Maybe it was just nerves. Admittedly, I was pretty fucking nervous about the show. Why? Well, here's a little bit of history for you. This year i decided to inform Ween of my love for them- first with a painting, then a drawing, and finally with a full-length Ween Coloring Book. Yeah. I'm cool. Anyway, these gifts (each and all) came with unrestrained professions of my Ween-love. I practically begged to do art for these guys. By the time the Coloring Book rolled around they could see that I wasn't gonna fuck off unless they told me to and instead, unofficially embraced me as an inevitable portion of the Ween-Wake. Acutally, we're now in the midst of discussing publishing the book together, through Chocodog. Pretty cool all around. Still, despite having seen them several times, emailing and even talking on the phone with some of them- I hadn't ever tried to meet them in person. It's strange enough to meet someone you deeply admire, stranger yet when you've stripped down to your soul and done your little dance for them. I was in a really quiet place leading up to the first show. Fortunately we had two (count 'em TWO!) naked guy window shows... one during the daytime with a fairly average looking dude who waved his wanger at me while I was having a little smoke out the window, and one later that night which involved two different, well-built men trying on different pairs of underwear and jumping around. Oh yeah, full frontal both times. The two guys were giving us such a great show, Lars and I pondered the idea that they could tell we were watching them. Just at that moment, one of the guys sneezed, and we realized they could definitely tell, and probably hear every word we were saying. I like French guys.

The night of the show, I got there early and staked out my spot in front. Kirk saw me hanging out came up to say hi. He told me I might notice Mickey's leg looking little different. The show started shortly thereafter and indeed, Dean Ween made his entrance with a fucking cast and crutches. Turned out he had broken his heel in two places a couple days earlier while hopping a fence in England. His other foot was sprained and bruised and not serving him too well, either. It was apparent when he sat down that he was in a lot of pain, and bumming out pretty hard. Fortunately, once the show started he seemed to lose himself in it. None of us noticed his leg, although it sucked for him. For my part, I think he played technically better with the cast. The Paris show is responsible for some of the most gorgeous and passionate photo's of Dean Ween I've ever seen, taken by my talented husband. Check out these shots from the Maroquinerie.

Claude is the man.

Gener

The real Marlboro Man.

Davey- rocking his sweet orange/peach dangerous poodle shirt.

I danced with a beautiful french woman, named Bridgette (sp?).

One of my favorite pictures of Deaner, ever.

We hung out with Kirk and some of the other guys afterward. One of my favorite parts of that night was meeting Dave in person. He's an awesome dude- one of those rare creatures in nature who you would dislike someone for disliking. I have big-time Poodle love.
The next morning we left, bright and early on the first train to Germany. I had been too excited to sleep. Lars got me this coffee on the train. It's a grande.

Here are some of the scenic views I missed out on by burying my head in video games. Normally I'm not a gamer but sometimes a little brain-rot is just what the Dr. ordered. And I will admit that for a short while, Grand Theft Auto San Andreas ruined my life.

Our hostel in Koln was very industrial and large. It had internet access and the keys were all in different places, which lent my emails some foreign flavor. The room had two little cot-beds, with "mattresses" like you get in jail... basically a long, crappy, deflated pillow covered in plastic.

We had to stand on top of the desk if we wanted to smoke, because the windows were suicide deterrent. Being pro-choice when it comes to offing yourself, this put a bad flavor in my mouth. The shower pressure was awesome, but the experience was somewhat dampened by the potent aroma of urinal cake, one of which was located in the shower drain. See that little pink fucker? Mmm, the pungent aroma of a European Weenja Adventure.

Despite the stench, I tried to put my cool on. Or at least my most questionable pants. Why? I feel like wearing this outfit was a fancy invitation to a dance party in the alley.

The Koln show was the SHIT! I met a bunch of people, including a cool woman named Chrissy who gave me jewelry and told me we were soulmates. She taught me some nasty phrases in German and laughed at my shitty accent. One of my favorite of her outbursts that night was her constant drunken request of "She Fucks Me" in a thick German accent. At one point she looked over at Deaner and howled, "She Fucks Me. YOOOOUUUU FUCK MEEEEE!" Good times. I very much regret not having gotten her email address so we could exchange future profanities.
Check out some of the shots from the Koln show.

This night was particularly dirty. I was more than satisfied by the time they finished Buenas Tardes Amigo (which, despite Ro6060 telling me repeatedly that it was his favorite live song of all time, still RADICALLY exceeded any expectation i could have had...) Lars and I figured they weren't gonna be doing an encore because Deaner was having a hard time getting around with his two busted feet. We decided to head for the back of the room to find Kirk. We made it all the way to the back when the crowd went fucking crazy again. I turned around in total disbelief. They were coming back on. My heart fell. Just in that moment, Kirk looked over and saw me and immediately pulled us into the sound booth. He even let me stand on one of his cases in front of a pillar. It was phenomenal to dance with my knees at shoulder height of the rest of the crowd for the entire encore (which included a passionate 'Booze Me Up and Get Me High' and the best fucking 'Blarney Stone' you can (or can't imagine.) Picture an angry cookie monster pirate on crack.

I thanked Kirk repeatedly after the show... I was so grateful. He said he had seen my face and had to do something. He'd been incredibly genuine and sweet to me from the start, but this moment was the one that forever sealed my Kirk-love. Dancing thru that encore in the sound booth is one of my most special memories from the trip.
After the show we were hanging out on the bus for a bit when I casually mentioned that it might be a good time for a dance party. Without missing a beat, Dave was like, "OK, I'll grab my tape deck." It really was as seamless as that, and thus began the back alley dance party in Koln. Davey completely busted a move with me. Nothing like a midnight dance party around a late 80's tape deck. This moment (obviously) sealed my Davey love, and upon reading about it, probably yours too. We got a few other people dancing, too. Even Deaner was waving his crutches in the air at one point. It was a good night.
The next morning we were off bright and early to Zurich, Switzerland.
Isn't he a cute one? Look at those ears.

We were excited to have a partial day of rest. Excited enough to bust a move in the hotel room.

Oh jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeessssssssssssss, me seeexxxy beech.

We spent a good amount of time walking around the city, checking out the structure and the beautiful people. The evening of the show we arrived early at the Kaufleuten to check out the club and stake out our spots. The people around me at the front of the stage told me this club was normally so exclusive they'd turn you away if your shoes weren't fashionable enough.

I swear, the Swiss Ween crowd contained some of the hottest women I've ever seen at a Ween show. Actually, the Swiss in general are gorgeous and warm. And well-dressed.
Here are some shots from the Zurich show:

Ween numba one!

Anyone want Kirk and Jamie's dinner? This was actually a great visual moment for me, because Gener handed off the crews dinner right over my head... it was kinda surreal having a sudden surge of hands pass over my head

Truly a highlight of the Zurich show was Claude destroying his drums (again). He completely went off, eventually standing to play. This is truly a treat, the man is an exceptional drummer and really knows how to move. When Claude goes all out, you know you're in for a show. Look at his abs. That's what's up.

Davey and I were helluv cool backstage. Like, almost too cool to tolerate.

This time the dance party was just Davey and me. We were both pretty wrecked from the craziness, but we still busted a little move.

Glenn is a cool dude.

Feeling the burn.

And hopping a plane to Amsterdam...

I had time to take a quick shower and then throw on the nuditard for the Amsterdam show. People were staring at my outfit so i hiked my socks up and rocked it like "Whachu fuking looooooookin at, beech?!!?" Sometimes I wear high heels with Christmas socks. And I look good doing it. It's like blowing a big neon pink kiss to everyone you pass on the street. This is my kinda sexy. I didn't ask you to look.

I was gonna rock the nuditard in its original form- butthole jewel fully exposed, but lost my nerve because I am no longer anonymous to Ween. It was fine when I was just some melty chick in a nuditard, but those days are gone. While we (Greg, lars, Pat and I) did give it our best attempt to have a meeting about the Coloring Book, it ended up being a little too crazy a time. Despite the chaos, it felt good meeting them in person. Most special was getting to sit in an entirely empty, five hundred year old church during Ween's soundcheck. It was breathtaking. Deaner played a Carpenter's song I don't know. It was beautiful.

We were hanging out with the guys out back as our meeting kinda dissapated into different circles of talk. I suddenly realized that it was about time for doors and ran inside to stake out my spot. I felt the magick as soon as I put my hands on the stage.

People filtered in. Some people from the front recognized me from different shows (the Ween crowd is campy like that.) I don't really know how to describe what happened, this night- in fact, I'm sure that I can't. I don't understand how or why things went down like they did, but for some reason the people around me made a bubble around me to dance in. I didn't ask for it- it just happened. I was dancing and they were tapping me on the shoulder between songs, saying, "Don't worry, we got you, just keep dancing!" It was big enough that no one pushed me all night. For the first time ever, I had room to move to live Ween. I just closed my eyes, thanked the forces that be for this night and fell into it. It was bliss. I never wanted it to end. Here is Clay, one pillar of the Wall.

His wife Lisa, who i don't have a picture of, was really the creator of the Wall. I love you, woman. That was seriously one of the most indescribable, special and unique gifts I have ever recieved.

You can see in my eyes that it's love. We danced, I had dreams.

I remembered not to care what I looked like, just what I am.

Afterward I sat outside and let myself get cold. I wondered what the risk had been to be so naked and foolish. I wondered if i had looked stupid, or come off wrong. I said yes when some guys asked to take their picture with me and then wondered why. I stared out over the water and tried to figure out what exactly I was trying to do with my life. As I became colder and colder I realized morning was coming, and this dream was ending. I took too long to collect my bearings, and stayed slumped dumbly by the fence I watched Deaner limp down toward his cab.

Bye-bye Deaner. I felt weird and sad, suddenly. I got up, realizing it was time for me to go. That was it, the last show. I brushed myself off and went to say goodbye to the rest of the guys. Here's a picture of me with Kirk.

Looking at it later with Lars I was like, "God, I hate how my smile looks. I look so lame." Lars said, "That's because your smile is fake. You were sad. Kirk looks good because he's happy." It's true, dishonesty is particularly unattractive on me. Thank god I've managed to surround myself with people who love me as I am. Next time I'm gonna rock my real face. I put it once we'd said all our goodbyes and were on our way back to the hotel room. It looked something like this.

I slept for two hours and was up. I paced around the room. What the FUCK?!! I couldn't find myself on the map, anymore. Lars woke up and lovingly reminded me that I fly and fall harder every time. Still, this felt different. Reality was changing around me. It was beautiful, disturbing and at times paralyzing. We had to check out of our hotel that morning, and kill the day wandering the streets of Amsterdam. Our last day was the first day the weather wasn't beautiful, the first day I'd needed sleeves or a jacket. The skies opened and poured. Lars and I went to a coffeeshop and pretended we were at home. (This one's for you, Algea.)

I sat at the Bulldog at 9AM smoking chronic and Moroccan Hash, drinking coffee and trying to stretch my feeble mind around this whole adventure. I'm not sure exactly when I stepped on this ride, fell in love, became afraid or first wanted to get off. I'm not sure why the universe gave me that little bubble, gifted me with the Wall, or thought I deserved the dance party in the alley. So many of the things I've gotten to experience in my life have been exceptional, leaving me stupid and dazed- wondering, why this particular fool has been so lucky. Dancing with Ween in Amsterdam was a dream, unexpectedly realized. It was so good. I just sat there and fucking cried all morning. I was so happy for what I'd seen and felt. People snuck looks at me crying. I turned my face to them so they could see me. I didn't fucking care anymore. I cried without covering my face.

We walked around mid-morning, under moody skies. I sucked in the rain and felt myself grow.

I stopped to laugh at the stupid, tiny cars. In America, you could park this fucker in your cappuccino.

The older guy selling hash at the Bulldog came up to me while Lars was at the cash machine and asked to look at my tattoos. He said I was beautiful and inspected my arms closely. it's funny... when people try to stare discreetly, it creeps me out. This guy asked if he could look at me, then proceeded to run his hands over my arms and tell me how beautiful it all was. It was honest and felt loving and good.

Despite the sweetness of our home away from home at the Bulldog, I was ready to leave the country. I briefly connected to Wi-Fi and sent my cosmic sister, Algea, a sulky "I-WANNA-COME-HOME-TO-YOU" message.
Lars said, "Baby, this is how you roll." Sometimes I think I wish I had a more moderate ride, but in my heart I know I'd be bored. He thought maybe I just needed to eat something and took me out. I tried to eat, but I was still overwhelmed. There was a couple in the next booth over. The guy saw me crying and was making fun of me in a different language to his woman. It made me laugh at myself, all the while still sincerely crying. Yeah, I'm cool. I'm cool and I'm putting it up here for all the world to see. I'm trying to get comfortable with embarrassing myself, you see.

I wish sometimes that I had more forethought, more inhibitions, more restraint -but maybe I am what I am for a reason.

The truck was pretty busted by the end of the trip. I couldn't think of anything but home now that I was as far away as I could possibly be. Maybe that's how it always is, we're just swimming upriver toward home, hungry for what we don't think we have yet.

Still swimming,
Thea.

A year has passed since the last time I updated this site. Inexcusable, I know. What can i say? I've been preoccupied graduating from college, putting on shows, making art, starting a business, getting married, riding the wrong, throwing insane parties and seeing a lot of amazing music. Despite the dizzying pace of life, website maintenence is going to be added to my list of top priorities. Thank you all for being so patient with me. Please check back often, as I will now be keeping a regular news blog and updating my portfolio much more frequently.
One of the projects I did this week:

I just started this mural but have been distracted by far more interesting work. What could be more interesting than a deer pissing on a drunk bear's face? Dean Ween's new fishing show, which i'm designing the logo for. If you've ever been in a 200 foot radius of me, chances are you know this guy is basically a god to me. Helping with his fishing show is the coolest shit ever. I'll post a link once he's got his new site running.

Way more cool shit brewing. Check back soon for more.
Love,
Thea

P.S. if you want me to come fuck up the walls of your house or establishment- send me an email.

Posted on 9 Aug 2008, 21:04
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