The All-American Rejects : Portraits

Friday I got to the venue 2 hours early. I'm never early, but I was nervous as anything and wanted to make sure I was fed (at the mall next door) and changed (in the Barnes and Noble bathroom) and ready to shoot (by location scouting around the venue). Then I sat on the curb in the shade, in my giant bright silk shirt, and waited to be let inside. I texted: “I’m here; I’m the only one who looks like a 90’s grandparent vacationing in Florida and not a security person.”

Before I could even finish my LaCroix, I was ushered into the back of the building.

We decided to take photos inside, so everything you see here were locations I found with Mitch and Tyson in the first 5 minutes of entering the building. We hustled; they helped me with lighting (what gems of photo assistants) and we made it happen and I’m so proud of how these turned out. New motto: don’t make excuses; make art.

From there, my expectations for the rest of the weekend were low. I would go downstairs and wait in the lobby until the show began. I’d shoot AAR’s first three songs, watch the rest of the show, load up into my car, edit and sleep at my Airbnb, and begin again in the morning. I expected the weekend to be fun, but also a little lonely, living in my car, not knowing anyone, traveling through three cities.

But nothing happened as I expected.

We got done shooting early, and the fellows walked me back to the green room, offered me a drink, and we talked. And they went out of their way at the entirety of the weekend to make sure I had AC and wifi and water and food and somewhere to stay at night. Who is that kind to someone they met a day or two ago? Nothing was as I expected, but all of it was better. 

I guess what I'm saying is, I'm really grateful for kind humans. They were under no obligation to talk to me or befriend me at all, but they did. I left with new friends. 

I started the weekend with the words: thankful, hopeful, ready. And I think they ended the weekend well, too. I don’t know if this story is a beginning or an end, or both altogether, but I’m thankful, hopeful, and ready for whatever is next in my story. Thank you, Mitch, Chris, Tyson, Mike, and Nick, for welcoming me into your little framily for a weekend. You're good eggs and I'm grateful to have met you.

Father, Forgive Me

Hi God,
There's a lot of death lately.
Every time I open the internet
There's bombs flying and
Moms dying and
I don't know what to say anymore
I don't know what to pray anymore
I don't know what to feel anymore
I've been thinking about grief and life and
Wondering
Maybe if loss is what connects us.
Loss and life
Loss of life
Maybe there's a hope we will
Find it again
Will they find it again?
Why is death so much easier to define than
Life
And why
Is going to much easier than staying
Promise me
You won't laugh if I tell you
Some days I'm afraid
Some days I listen to
Fast songs
Because it's hard to
Think, to
Feel, to
Remember death is real
And that's where we are headed
The unknown
Is scary
Being known
Is scary
Sometimes I just wish for something
Easy, something
Easier
Is that wrong, God? 
I don't want to give up
I just want to
Sit down
For a minute?
Will you sit with me?
Will you promise I won't
Fall behind
Fall away
Fall apart
If I just rest here for a second? 
Will you remember me? 
Forgive me even, for
I don't know what I'm doing
Anymore.

Eternity and My Desire to Be Remarkable

Maybe writing is your Thing
I've been told
Eh maybe
I've answered
Thanks but
No thanks
Writing isn't sexy just like
Staying isn't sexy
We're all scared to be forgotten
So we want to be
Loud
Remarkable
Famous
Draw me like a
French girl
Write me up a
Wikipedia page
Name drop me in
Conversation
Make me famous
Make me proud
Make me bright and loud and
Anything but quiet
Anything but staying
Anything but writing
Anything but this quiet
Thing
I'm supposedly
Good at. 
Whatever that means. 
However I forget that
Words last
Forever.
There is
Eternity
In this pen
I write with my soul in my hands and maybe
That
Is remarkable
That is
Loud
Even if I am
Quiet.

Preposition or Emotion

How do you know
if you are IN love
and not just,
you know,
AROUND love or
ABOUT love or
some other preposition
with a different meaning
Please tell me
Is this
faulty grammar or a
faulty heart?

6.20.17

Lany Fans in Indy

This is my third Lany fan blog post (check out Minneapolis and Columbia) and I decided to try something different. Typically I just blog the line before the show and that's the extent of my fan photos, and typically most of my photos during the band's set are of the band.

This time, however, when the band came out, I immediately turned around, faced the crowd. The light backlit Lany, but it hit the crowd right in their faces.. And it was beautiful. The best part of the show was that: looking back, seeing the night from the band's point of view. I couldn't stop grinning.

So for Indianapolis, I'm including photos from, yes, the line before the show, but also during the show and after the show. This is the story of the humans in the crowd. The Lany fam. The ones who, before the show, were waiting outside at least 7 hours before to get an envied spots on the barricade. The ones who waited for hours after the show to get a photo with or a hug from the Boys. I want to hug you all. Your enthusiasm inspired me and I'm smiling as I edit and post these photos. I'm grateful for you.

Keep living with that radical reckless enthusiasm and love the things you love that hard. Let your love keep you up late at night and may it keep you grinning.

Yesterday as I was leaving the grocery store, I walked by bouquets of flowers and thought: I don't especially love flowers but I love that it's something we do--expend income and effort on something so temporary. I love that we keep and we give something so temporary because this is all temporary but that shouldn't stop us from buying flowers. That shouldn't stop us from throwing roses. That shouldn't stop us from savoring beautiful moments, even if they're short. Whether high school or a concert or a first kiss. Just because it's over doesn't mean it wasn't beautiful. Chase that beauty. It might not always look like a rose, but even dandelions are beautiful if you choose to see beauty in them. Choose to see beauty all over, dear humans. On Saturday night I saw it in your faces. ILYSB. These photos are chronological and they tell your story. The story of Saturday night and the smiling and the dancing and the roses on the floor. I hope when you remember that night, you remember it like this.

Much of life is choosing what is worth inconveniencing yourself for. The things you drive a distance for. The people you stay up late for. Those are the things and the people you love. These humans love Lany.

Lany Fans in Columbia

Oh, Lany fans, you're gems. What can I say that I haven't said before?

But maybe it's not about saying anything new. Maybe it's just saying something true. Something honest. Something I mean.

Because Lany is like that. Love isn't new, just these songs are. Pink skies have been ending days for decades--centuries--but only now do we have that melody. And summer isn't new, just this one is.

And life isn't new, but I feel like who I'm becoming is.

Maybe it's the same with you. With these songs. With these days. With these young summer years.

More even than I love the music of Lany, I love the feeling of Lany. It's like this: 

Keep dancing, young friends. Don't ever stop being enthusiastic about the things you like. Don't let anyone tell you growing up is boring. Yes, growing up means insurance and bills and a lot of that is scary right now (to me, too), but it's also staying up all night with your friends and ice cream for breakfast and 30 glow sticks in your car and dancing in the streets in new cities to new songs and it's a lot of fresh air in your lungs and it's learning what joy is and it's feeling it, too. Sometimes the scariest things are also the best things; don't live a safe life because just like these songs and these days, life is short. Take risks. Don't be afraid of failure. Sing loud and often. Maybe these things are cliche and maybe I've said them before, but I'm not above a good cliche.

I think maybe that's the point though, isn't it? We're all just feeling the same things in different cities waiting for someone to give words to these emotions--or give us a chance to dance. Because don't we all need some roses in our hands, in the air, on the floor?

This spring I read the book Wonder and the main character Auggie says that he thinks everyone should have a standing ovation at least once in his or her life. I hope you get your standing ovation. I hope you all get an encore. You are brave and beautiful. Keep dancing.

Love is awesome. These days are awesome. Savor them. ILYSB.

Earlier in the day, Steve (my friend/Lany's merch fella) tweeted that he wanted a basketball to, well, play basketball (he probably said it better than that, but that's the gist of it), so these cute humans brought him one.

Machineheart in Columbia

I met the fellows in Machineheart around 2012 in Chicago and met Stevie a bit after. While we don't see each other regularly, every time they're in town, I make a point to be there, usually with my camera. These humans are kind and creative, and it was difficult to choose my favourite photos, but I think I succeed. Thank you, Jake, Carman, Harry, and Stevie! Lovely seeing y'all again.

Lany in Columbia

25

I’m turning 26 tomorrow.

I’m past the age of people writing cool songs about how old I am (what’s my age again?), but in the past week two people have guessed I’m 20 (thank you, Sierra), so I’m not feeling terribly old honestly. I have boxes from Horizon Line in the basement to make into a fort and I’ve bought a piñata that we are going to fill with lollipops on Tuesday. Parking lots make me want to dance like nobody’s business and so does the band COIN. I still don’t sleep enough, but I’m learning I function better if I do (maybe that’s wisdom or maybe I am just getting older).

Birthdays awaken nostalgia in me and they make me hope I’ve changed enough to qualify for graduation into another year of existence. Did 25 leave a mark on me? Am I changed? Has anything changed around me or in me?

Last year on April 30th, Brittany and Kassie and I were driving to New Mexico to wake up in a tipi on a snowy May 1st and I held a tumbleweed (that I named Terry) in the middle of nowhere. Best birthday to date and definitely difficult to top. In a small town with an old faded Wrangler’s store, I took a photo of a tattoo shop and captioned my post of it: this might be my year. And it was (I got 3).

Yet it’s easy to look back and wonder why I’m still here locationally. Why my feet haven’t moved more and to miss the fact that my heart has moved even as my feet have lingered.

But if we are talking physical miles, besides New Mexico, I’ve been to Kansas City, LA, San Francisco, Chicago, Indianapolis, and Minneapolis, not to mention smaller towns. But the worth of my year isn’t in the miles I’ve traveled. I’ve moved houses and switched jobs and yet the worth of my year isn’t in the places I’ve lived or the desks I’ve occupied. The worth of a year is in the living and the growing and the changing. And sometimes that is inside your tumbleweed soul.

My word for last year was fearless. I learned that sometimes looks like staying. My word for this year is love and I’m learning that sometimes looks like staying, too.

I’ve lost relationships and forged new ones (falling apart and falling into and sometimes falling hurts and sometimes things fall together) and I’ve learned that much of live is learning how to grieve with graciousness and joy and to keep hoping in deeper things. I’ve felt more pain and more joy than in any other year. I’ve sobbed in a bathroom alone until I lost track of time and I’ve laughed and ran with friends until I lost track of time, too.

I’ve learned trust isn’t the same as belief and that stopping isn’t the same as taking root and I still have much more to learn and bigger dreams to run for even as my roots grow deeper. I’m learning to ask better questions and I’m learning to listen. Ilana often asks me what I’m learning and I like that. I’m still not good at silence, but I’m growing better at it—it scares me less than it used to. I’m reading more, and that’s good for my soul, too.

Originally, I had a paragraph about the different creative things I’ve done this year, but I don’t want it to sound like I’m bragging. Please don’t take it as such. It’s just a landmark, but it can become a land mine if it becomes my identity. I am not my work. But I’m learning to work out of joy rather than identity. Magazine articles and a cover, CD covers, bigger shows, collaborations: it’s been a whirlwind. I’ve learned a lot about editing—that’s been my biggest change; I still like deep moody edits, but I’m ending the year with color because that’s how I feel on the inside: deep and colourful in a way that doesn’t quite make sense, but I feel my lungs filling up fuller and fuller these days and I’m wondering if this is joy and I’m wondering if I’ve never quite felt it before. I’m learning to use thankfulness as a weapon and I hope I’m learning to love, not just the feeling.

This is me, 25 for a few more hours. Messy and full and braver than I was last year. Less miles under my feet, more miles under my soul. I want my tumbleweed soul to keep taking root and to keep growing and maybe I’ll move this year and maybe I won’t but my soul surely will move—but not wander—and I will keep creating. I’m writing a list of 26 things to do before I’m 27. I’m learning how to rest, but I’m not slowing down. This year is good. I am good right now. I am alive and I am here and I am thankful. I've been laughing a lot these days and running just because I can and both of these feel good, inside and out. I feel alive, inside and out. More alive than I have in a long time. Thank you for reading this. Thank you for adding joy to my existence. Thank you for teaching me kindness and bravery through your words. Thank you for rooting for this little tumbleweed soul. 

Love always,

Liz

KC with the Boys

Blake and I have come a long way since our first roadtrip last summer. I mean, literally. We've driven lots of miles in my little car. So far, we've successfully roadtripped every season, but this was our first adventure in Kansas City. We drove up early for the Japanese House show at Riot Room and spent the day eating food and drinking coffee and taking photos with Charlie. There are a ton of photos: this is your warning. But they're all of coffee or donuts or Charlie or Blake, so you really can't complain about that.

This first photo is of Joe's, where we had stellar BBQ. From there, we ventured to West Bottoms to get coffee at Blip.

You know you've got good friends when they humour you for a photo like this. I hope I never grow up and always take silly photos and always dance in parking lots and always adventure and always laugh.

No trip to KC is complete without a stop at Doughnut Lounge.

Nearly the entire day was cloudy, but the sun ventured out for just long enough for a few photos with harsh shadows.

When you hold your camera above your head to take photos, sometimes you get some happy accidents.

Charlie took us to a part of town with cute little antique stores and it far too closely resembled the 1975's newest album art for us to pass by without a photo or two.

I'm grateful for these two human. One of the best Tuesdays of the year so far.