Moving to the D.

If you had told me two years ago when I moved to Toledo I would be relocating--by choice--to Detroit, I would have laughed in your face. My intention was to come here simply for grad school; it was to be a life transition and nothing more.

Granted, I have no plans to stay in Toledo. There are some nice things about it, but there simply isn't enough left in this once-grand town to keep me engaged. I had hoped to move back to the west coast (had my eye on going back to Seattle, or maybe the Bay area) after grad school, but quite honestly, I don't have the funds for that. As well, I am truly tired of making the "once-every-few-years" giant move across the U.S., as I've been doing for nearly a decade, now. And finally, I've gotten somewhat accustomed to being on this side of the nation, despite how much I pine for L.A. and Seattle every day. I miss the ocean and the damn near luxury of west coast living, but seasons also appeal to me. I didn't realize how much I had missed that.

This part of America is definitely midwestern, but it is also punctuated by the culture of southern folks who migrated in the early-mid 20th century for blue-collar work, so it feels a bit familiar. The longer I've been here, it seems closer to my own experience than anywhere else I've lived. And although having been exposed to black culture once I moved west, the impression I get here among African-Americans here is that their culture is even more authentic, honest, raw. I like that. It reminds me of my own formative experience, what some refer to as "white trash" or "hill people." Those terms have very negative connotations, and to some degree we Appalachians have earned it. But even though everything about our culture is not always pleasant, one thing is for sure--we are very, very real and to the bone. And I see that among all of the people here--not just blacks. Sometimes the vibe in this part of the world gets a bit too passionate--just like now, when I hear people fighting in my apartment building parking lot, but that's part of the trade-off of being among people who are raw. With great poverty surrounding us and the certainty of bad times ahead, people can get pretty edgy; crazy--and they have no qualms about showing it. That quality of authenticity is something I have always understood, so I tend to value it in others. Sometimes it makes things more difficult because such an approach to life can be overwhelming, intimidating, threatening or simply irritating, but hey--at least you know always know where you are with folks.

Over the last couple of years, I drove into Ann Arbor a few times and really liked it; it seems like the "Boulder of Michigan" to me. I thought it was lovely, but it just didn't seem like somewhere I'd want to consider settling for awhile. But in January I drove up to Detroit and the minute I hit town it was like I'd been there before. It has the dirty/industrial feel of Pittsburgh or Cincinnati, the strip mall/gritty, graffiti-tagged sadness of North Hollywood, and the downtown feel of Cleveland meets Glasgow, Scotland. And of course, the numerous examples of abandonment are visceral. One of the first things I saw when I drove into the city was the old, beaten/shot-up beauty of a once-magnificent train station. Instantly, I was in love.

Everyone who knows me well knows I'm a melancholic. I find beauty in ruin. Hope in devastation. Thus, I couldn't help it; once I was inside Detroit's environs, I instantly wanted to help her. I know people have been attempting to do this since the 60s, and not a lot has changed. I'm not likely to make any tangible difference. But I would like to try.

For the first time in my life I want to get involved in community revitalization efforts instead of continuing to wallow in my own self-pity and existential hand-wringing. There are a lot of people interested in trying to make Detroit a city of note again, and I would like to contribute however I can. And, unlike Toledo (which is the D's little sister, in so many ways), there are many more arts outlets for me to explore--theatre, visual art, dance--and damn, have I missed nourishing that part of myself. Now there are multiple opportunities, not just one or two.

I've got a long-time pal who lives in New York City, and he's convinced I should move there (NYC). He has me pretty convinced he's right. I used to tell myself I'd be too old, but what's too old? Too old to what? I can be 45 and unsuccessful in NYC, or I can be 45 and unsuccessful in Iowa. At least I could enjoy a more vibrant world on the east coast. However, I can't quite move there yet. I don't have the money, and I believe a transition is important for me. I need to get away from school for awhile (I'm pretty burned out, to be honest), do some re-structuring and (hopefully) a little money-saving. What I'm most hoping for is even more growth and discoveries along the way, and I think moving an hour north will kick-start those into motion...

If any of my readers have Detroit connections--contacts, jobs, arts opportunities, arts jobs opportunities--let me know. I have mad skills in many areas, from executive admin to teaching to pet sitting to editing, and now I'll have a decent education to back it up. Any help/advice you care to share will be welcomed and appreciated.

For once in my life, I've finally decided to stop fretting over misplaced or even lost dreams and am willing to cast the net wide to see what I pull up. And I have to say, I'm damned excited about it.

Copyright 2011, Alexandra Scarborough. All rights reserved.

Listen to Sasha's Irregular Slot!

As some of you know, I used to be a radio DJ many moons ago, and I'm working my way back in as an alternate for WRFL-FM, the student-run station for the University of Kentucky. I'm doing my first solo show (Jesus, since '94) today, 2.2.08, from 4-6 EST. Out-of-towners can listen here, and you local folks should already know it's 88.1 on the dial.

Tune in to the show! And be gentle, it's my first go-'round in some time and the technologies have changed...I'm sure I'll bugger up a few things, but damn, we'll have fun.

Why Gahan Gets It.

I don't know that anyone in entertainment has so fully immersed him or herself in the deepest pits of debauchery and blackness and has emerged as amazingly reflective and implicitly conflicted about it as Dave Gahan. He is strong; he wants to walk the steady path, but his work--lyrically and visually--points to what I believe is a deep longing to get back to those horrible but illuminating moments, and a marveling that even he can't believe sometimes that he lived through it it all. Goddamn, his work only gets more interesting.

I'm not an ex-heroin addict who actually died a number of times--like Gahan did--but so much of what I see in his life resonates.

Great interviews:
Sentimentalist Mag

The Observer
Great videos:

On da radio...Monday night 1/7!

I'm working my way back into DJing for WRFL-FM, the student-run radio station for the University of Kentucky, which served as a major creative outlet for me, many years ago. Tomorrow I'll be (re)training and riding shotgun with my long-time pal Percy Trout from 8:30-10 pm EST.

Out-of-towners can listen online at: WRFL, and for those in town--well, you should know it, but if you don't--it's 88.1 on the dial.

Percy's hilarious, and we always have a good time. Tune in!

My brand-spanking-new tattoo.

Artwork by the incomparable Donald Purvis.

This is one I've wanted for a long, long time. I say, "this will be my last," but I've been saying that since my third one, back in 1992. Two more tattoos/fifteen years later; we'll see...

Wanna know more about the image? Go here.

Yoga and me.

I've been doing a lot of yoga lately, and it's yielding interesting results. Certainly, I am doing it for health reasons--for strength, flexibility, and that oh-so-craved lean yoga body. But mostly, I've been doing it for piece of mind.

I've flirted with yoga for years, starting in 2000, when I picked up a combo AM/Stress/PM DVD from the Whole Foods where I was working, in Austin, Texas. My marriage was sputtering out, and I was looking for anything to give me a distraction, and hopefully, physical/emotional benefit. I struggled with the poses (I have a lot of stiffness due to fibromyalgia), but was able to get through each program with general success. The first time I attempted the stress yoga sequence, I broke down at the end and cried. It's true that certain poses open emotional floodgates in your body, just as when a massage therapist who understands the mind-body connection targets emotional centers that are holding old emotional pain. Perhaps it is because of that very phenomenon that my practice has been spotty; I seem to look for reasons not to do yoga, not only because it is a challenge for me physically, but it also forces me to listen to the deepest parts of myself. I seem to be okay with self-analysis when it involves my intellect, but it gets overwhelmingly intense when I start listening to my body.

Nevertheless, since returning to Kentucky and reevaluating a lot of what is/isn't working in my life, I find myself finally turning to yoga without apprehension. I'll doubt I'll ever be a 6 am-in-the-morning practitioner, but I do find winding down the evening with the pm program settles the machinery of my ever-whirring mind. Even though it's low-impact, a couple of the poses are so challenging for me, I still wobble, and am relieved that no one is there to see me struggle and modify and look incredibly ungraceful.

One of the immediate benefits for me is that fall asleep much faster, and dream like a motherfucker. I haven't dreamt a lot in the last few months; I think that's because of some of the stressors in my life--my subconscious thinks it's just easier to go "dark"--and even though I feel a little wrung out in the mornings after the jumble of metaphors that have plumbed my head, I find I deal much better with the reality of the day, when I have done yoga.

I particularly seem to be having a lot of sex dreams, and finally with people I'd actually want to fuck, instead of previous dream suitors, like old bosses, Woody Allen and Tony Soprano. I had a particularly delicious dream last night about David Duchovny, probably because I had just watched his film House of D. Even with the pleasant imagery, there was still a feeling of deceit, or disappointment associated with the outcome, which is often the overarching emotion that occurs in dreams where I'm sleeping with stars. I know this points to the larger narrative of my life in many ways (leaving L.A. behind, not reaching the "heights" I wanted to in the industry, etc.), and I feel yoga is pressing my mind to work a lot of this stuff out.

I think it's good for me to put this in print, because it forces me to stick with a goal (I'm still off aspartame, for instance!), and I know I can get lazy if I don't have the possibility of someone checking in to say "How's the yoga going?" So, while I don't expect to have Madonna's fabulous flexibility anytime soon (or any of her awesome achievements, for that matter), I do plan to continue doing yoga regularly for my health, and my sanity.

Namaste.

The Long Way Round.

So, anyone who knows me well knows of my obsession with Ewan McGregor, which started six or seven years ago. After seeing him in an episode of "ER" and having him on my radar for a while, I decided, "Hmm, he's a pretty good actor. Let's see what else he has to offer." I delved into his body of work, and thus, my adoration began.

Yes, a lot of my attraction is rooted in the fact that he's damned hot--he pushes all of the Alexandra turn-on buttons: Celtic, boyish but masculine, funny, sexy and impish--but my appreciation goes deeper than that. I've always found him to be head and shoulders in talent above nearly every actor of my generation (and particularly over those who are younger). He has always put me in mind of the older greats--like the late Richard Burton, Albert Finney (and I noticed way before he played the younger version of Finney in Big Fish the striking resemblance...). As an actor, I've always appreciated his willingness to take risky roles (The Pillow Book, Velvet Goldmine), and dig himself feet-first into them, with unblinking commitment. His intuitiveness (at least as it appears on this side of the camera) as an actor is enviable.

Anyway, I've been meaning to watch his motorcycle documentary, The Long Way Round, since it came out, but it always seemed to get pushed back by other things. I picked it up the other day and consumed the whole thing in two days. For those not in the know, The Long Way Round features McGregor's bike journey with friend Charley Boorman from London, across Europe and Asia to New York. Literally. On motorcycles. Across 15 countries, and specifically through areas of Siberia and Russia that no one has dared to tread in decades--chock full of unnavigable dirt roads, washed out bridges, bears and lots and lots of mosquitoes.

The show was wrenching, funny and riveting. The insane journey, originally brainstormed by McGregor, took months to launch (people doubted they could do the trip, gee, wonder why?), and when finally mounted, presented challenges that even the über-prepared McGregor and Boorman (and stalwart support team) couldn't have envisioned. I found myself completely caught up in their trials, their triumphs, their emotional ups-and-downs.

The beautiful thing about this series was its examination of human endeavor and spirit. It was also an interesting look into the male psyche. Typically, when a man feels the need to conquer, he looks to bed as many women as possible to make himself feel more like a man. But after he becomes a committed husband and family man, what's left to conquer? The open road, of course! McGregor and Boorman's adventure was the contemporary equivalent of New World explorers launching out to sea. Watching the process of these two men becoming more of themselves the further they traveled was intoxicating. As Charley grew thinner and thinner and Ewan's beard grew to mountain-man proportions, their emotional layers continued to peel off with each successive video diary.

I can't recommend it enough. It was inspiring and incredibly uplifting. When I was preparing this blog, I looked up their website and discovered not only is there an extended 10-episode version of the series (it's on my public Amazon wishlist, *hint*), but they are currently on another journey together, this time traveling from Scotland to South Africa. I can't wait to see the next chapter in their travels. Safe journeys, good men--I wish I were with you. I may not be a man, and I may not ride a motorbike (although, now I'd really like to!), but the aching desire to be free, to explore and to evolve runs deep in me, too.

The Long Way Round