If you went to see music at The Rockwood Music Hall, The Mercury Lounge , The Living Room or The Bowery Electric, chances are that you would eventually run into Lucinda Gallagher. She was a dark haired, bright eyed and generous woman with an encyclopedic knowledge of local bands. Stick around a little more and you would learn that Lucinda was a single mom with two kids, each kid having his or her own musical taste, which you would learn about too.
Tag Archives: death
Full disclosure: This is not the happiest of stories and has almost nothing to do with me. At the end I will provide a link to donate to an absolutely worthy cause. If you are not interested I won't hold it against you to move on. Otherwise, please continue.
While in the US over the Christmas holiday, I got one of the worst phone calls a person can get.
Last week I told you about the Benefit For Lucinda's Kids and wow, there were a lot of you who ended up here. As a quick reminder, the benefit is a concert in New York to build up a trust for two awesome kids. Apparently the response has been so great that a second show has been added at the Bowrey Electric on Monday, April 30th with more great artists including: HR (of…
In recent years, the wild, Philadelphia-born rock band Marah has stripped down. Essentially, it's now just Dave Bielanko and Christine Smith at the core, performing as a duo at time and recruiting bandmates for bigger shows.
After a stint in Brooklyn, they've have moved into an old farmhouse in the wilds of central Pennsylvania, with a phone line for incoming calls only.
I spent all yesterday morning indoors. As I walked out late in the evening and squeezed through the huddled masses Union Square, I felt slightly disconnected. Underneath the throng in the bustling subway, a troubadour serenaded the crowd and lamented regrets about how the only guarantee in life is death. While I listened to his aria fade and watched the blur of graffiti pass by from the moving train, I remembered the phrases carpe viem, memento mori, tempus fugit and carpe diem.
I once lived as a country mouse in my poor home when a vagabond friend, a London mouse, inspired me to live life, travel, and see the world. I left a modest life in the Midwest for the hustle and bustle of the east coast, and even visited my friend in the UK. I have yet to explore many more places, including Scotland and still much of the States.
Dear Time, I missed traveling to Berlin and Portugal in 2010 because I mistakenly thought you were abundant. Now every alarm clock in NYC blares in my head, heeding me to travel more in 2011 and perhaps play my little pink guitar in some strange cities. I relish a road trip across America, Jack Kerouac style, so I may likewise chronicle my adventures. I want to go to San Francisco, kiss my sister, hug my nephews, and wear red sunflowers in my hair. I desire a hearty brunch with my grandmother and her lively old friends with a side of flavorful laughter followed by drinks and debauchery with familiar faces in Chicago. I long to jam at a High Voltage night in Los Angeles and to promenade down the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. Continue reading
“There is a strange charm in the hope of a good legacy that wonderfully reduces the sorrow people otherwise may feel for the death of their relatives and friends.”-Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
As children, my sister and I constantly argued and obsessed over which one of us would die first. As much as we fought and pulled one another’s pig-tails, we each agreed that we could not lucidly handle the other’s demise. Ultimately, we embraced, encircling each other with skinny arms, and dramatically declared to perish simultaneously to avoid further distress. Perhaps, the solution to this sibling sorrow is found within the aforementioned quote: “in the hope of a good legacy.”
I want a memorable legacy. When I die, I want to be remembered as a prolific storyteller, artist, and musician. To my age and the following generations, I bequeath thousands of wonderful words, picturesque phrases, run-on sentences and, most likely, copious contradictions. Although my accomplishments may be meager, I aspire for them to hold immense influence, even if only for my relatives and friends. I would like them to remember me as a dauntless character, commemorated for both my snarkiness and spunk (i.e. my adventurous Indiana-Jones-like spirit).
I wish to be known for embracing my embarrassments, especially my early, seemingly lesser work. Perhaps my passionate and transient merits will be appreciated as much as those that are more sophisticated. Conceivably, my process will be what gives my art and life value. I imagine those who knew me would call me eclectic and say, “She had a strange charm about her.”