What I can say for sure is that this trip has been so good for me mentally, emotionally, and despite the large quantities of Blizzards I consumed while in Whitesburg, physically. I really feel like I've gotten my old self back, and that is a wonderful wonderful way to feel.
Plus this weird thing has been going on where people tell me I'm a cool person. What's up with that? I spent the summer in awe of my amazing, intelligent, beautiful friends and co-workers, only to have them tell their friends about my editing skills or tell me how much they like me. Which is great, but I'm still sort of in the middle school/high school mentality that I'm the little kid and they're the big kid and they're infinitely cooler than me. This is starting to change for me, but I'm still a bit shocked and awed when a cool older woman wants to be my friend. It's going to be hard when I go back to Oberlin and am only surrounded by the 18-22 crowd again. I like kids and old people and middle aged people and teenagers and everything else in between.
After a final night in Whitesburg filled with fiddles, feminism, good food, and good byes (evidence can be seen here ), and a morning of running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to move out, I headed off to Clifftop, the Appalachian String Band Festival.
This was my 4th year at Clifftop, and definitely one of the best. I jammed just as much on my banjo as I did on my bass, saw a lot of old friends, made some new ones, didn't get enough sleep or get arrested. So it was pretty much a success.
My Clifftop 2010 observations were as follows:
1. It is a beautiful thing when you see someone you were absolutely obsessed with at 16, and realize that they're still a cool person, but not as amazing as you once thought they were. At 16, I could spend an entire night swapping bullshit with this person. While I'm still pretty fond of bullshit now, I'm not as easily taken in by it. This person is still attractive, intelligent and interesting, but I've moved on a lot from that point in my life, and it is such a relief.
2. At Clifftop 2 years ago, I met a beautiful man who plays the same instrument as me. Only he is much much better at it than I am. He was known to me and my friends as my [instrument name has been left out to preserve author's dignity] hero.
Flash forward 2 years. [Instrument who must not be named] hero is at Clifftop again, and is actually my camp neighbor! I wake up from a middle-of-the-night nap to the sound of him playing. I stumble out of my tent, disheveled, wrinkled and tired from traveling and jamming and the like, and strike up a conversation. In typical Janney is a creeper and remembers everybody fashion, I started out with "That sounded great... I don't know if you remember me but..."
But here's the best part. HE REMEMBERED ME!!!!! And not as a creepy stalkerish 18 year old, but as a person who played the same instrument as him!!!!!! We hung out and played music quite a bit throughout the weekend.
To make a long story short, I have a huge renewed crush on him. I'm going to run off to [town that must not be named in state that must not be named] to live with my [instrument that must not be named] hero and we will make beautiful beautiful babies who are the best [instrument that must not be named] players in the world.
I guess the point is, Clifftop is fun, but irrational crushes last much longer.
So I've been home for 4 days now. On Monday, I got gum surgery, which basically means my teeth won't fall out, but I'm on a liquid diet for a week and can't exercise. So there's been nothing for me to do in Green Bank besides clean (because usually when I'm home all I do is eat, exercise, and clean).
This week's bout of cleaning has lead me to our basement. It is truly a scary basement. Not even our closest friends and neighbors understand the true horrors that lie in our basement. The Lockman family doesn't have skeletons in our closet, we have them in our basement (literally. Yesterday I swept up a mostly decomposed mouse). So this is not a task for the faint of heart.
I started off with my parents' vinyl collection. They have an amazing record collection in lots of genres. Unfortunately, it's been in our moist, often-flooded basement for the past 10+ years. So it's now covered in white mold. I spent about 2 hours dusting white mold off of these records. At times it was kind of exciting.
"Oh this record is white! It must be the White Album!"
A quick dusting with a rag reveals it to be Joni Mitchell's "Blue."
When I actually did find the White Album, it was covered in purple mold. So it goes.
Despite the dust mask I had on during this cleaning, I probably inhaled way too much of this white mold. I had a fever last night and am still feeling pretty wonky today. So if I die from white mold inhalation, I would like the following people to come to my parents' home and each pick 10 records from their record collection (and this is the only time I'll name drop in my blog. Because I'm not screwing around.): Clary Estes Mark Kidd Derek Mullins Alex Toutant Matt Anderson Sasha Jones Lauren Melton and everyone else I've talked to about vinyl in the past year or so. While you're there, you can talk about how much you all love me while you clean the basement. Just don't inhale too much white mold.
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