bethofalltrades

New Year's Eve.

Last year I wrote that I felt that everything was full of potential.

I saw The Dresden Dolls perform last New Year's Eve. For the first time.

I wrote this afterward:
She takes the time to have moments with people. There was this tiny goth teenager who was obviously saying something both intimate and long and Amanda was completely focused on her the entire time. No glancing around looking for her bandmates, no rushing people off. Just a genuine connecting to person after person after person. Sign this, smile for a photo, hug that fan, sign this, crazy face for a photo, hug, sign, smile, sign, crazy face, sign, smile, hug. At 2AM after playing a two hour long set, with the flu.

I wouldn't want her life. The crowd congealing around you, each person in it wanting a piece of you, a scribble on a napkin, an image of you in their iPhone. I didn't want to add to that, but I wanted my piece too. A delicate balance.

She is still that generous with her time and her self, but I've learned so much more about those little post-show connections after watching it happen again and again for the better part of a year.

The people who come to the shows aren't a swarm of hungry, desperate insects. They don't want pieces of her that she can't grow back.

They want to say thank you.

They love her and they give back more than they take.

The only difference this year is that she did all the hugging and signing and crazy photo faces at 6AM, not 2AM. And I felt comforted to watch it rather than anxious.

---

New Year's Eve was constant motion. The private party was a huge success. I was the door girl, which turned out to be way more complicated than I thought. There was a lovely girl named Pi who helped me the entire evening. I wish I'd gotten her email address, I wanted to give her some merch and explain that she saved me from spending the entire night frozen and stressed.

Midnight was... beautiful. Seventy-five people, completely silent even as we heard the screams and horns and cheering from outside. Amanda took my hand and we looked at each other and said nothing.

After midnight the night truly began. We made our way to the venue, where the bouncer wouldn't let us in. Jeff (the tour manager) explained that we were the next act. The bouncer said he didn't care. They argued. Amanda shivered.



We got nowhere until Jeff's girlfriend (also named Amanda) realized there was another door. We walked over and Jeff's Amanda said, "We're the next show, can we wait inside since it's so cold?" and the bouncer told us that was fine.

The moral of the story is to try another door.

Once we got in there was chaos from the midnight Patti Smith show cleaning up. We didn't get to set up merch until a half hour before doors. On a GOOD night I could do it in 45 minutes, but this was not a good night and a half hour is not 45 minutes. We were still setting up when people came in, but Katrina managed to sell anyway. She's an excellent merchy.

Katrina, after consuming only sugar free Redbull all day:



The show itself was epic. Amanda played Trout Heart Replica. I was sad that I didn't get to hear it in San Francisco but I think our version was even better. I hope someone recorded it. I stood with Katrina and did my best not to cry.

She played Hallelujah, too, and Another Year, two of my favorites that I have never heard live.

Hallelujah was incredible.


I did cry that time. I cried from happy, I cried from tired, I cried from conflicted, I cried from lucky, I cried from ALIVE.

After the show was signing and after signing we drove to Brooklyn. Amanda taught me how to parallel park as the sun came up.

I made it home around 8:30AM, after about 21 hours of work (minus one hour of tattooing). It was perfect. Exhausting, but perfect.

Love,
Beth

ps - Did I mention that the Other Girl with a Key Tattoo is here?

I have been doing a lot of writing on my Blackberry on subways.

I wrote a long, ranty blog the other day and then didn't post it because it felt too mean. I may like mean girls, but I'm not one.

A few days before that it was an intellectual diatribe on sexuality, which I never finished because it wasn't really funny enough to be worth the effort.

Today it was more song lyrics. I need to acquire some kind of uncomplicated musical instrument to see if they truly are songs and not poems. Perhaps the spoons?

My BB (and being underground on trains unable to instantly share my thoughts with the world) is turning me into a diarist.

I wrote a really great blog today about one of the best compliments someone ever said behind my back, but to explain it I had to tell too much of a story not my own, so you'll have to rest assured that today someone told me something someone else said and it made my heart wobble a bit.

---

I spent an entire night with Becca and Meow, the two of them chatting in French and then gushing about Liza Minelli. I had little to say but enjoyed listening to their conversation. In such situations I worry that I am not sparkling enough and that afterwards any new acquaintance might say, "Oh, Beth... yes, not terribly interesting, that one."

I am desperately frightened that people will judge me boring and not give me another chance.

Last night was free of such pressure, as I was surrounded by people who perform who would gladly take the spotlight and entertain me. I am so grateful for those evenings when I am not expected to be charming or funny or entertaining or ON. Evenings when I can have a glass of wine and relax.

---

I worked on a poster design for New Year's today. I like it. It's a bit garish, but isn't New Years a bit garish? I would like to take a class or two in graphic design so that I might actually DO this rather than fake it.

... although I have never, not once, had a class in photography and I most certainly do not feel that I fake that. So.

---

Brunch with Abby today and lemon pie. I'm going to be shooting the art for her new album. (Album is AMAZING, I've got an unmastered advance copy and it's blowing me away.) I'm excited, and a bit nervous. At some point we stopped being stoned kids fucking around with camera and guitar and started being Artists. You can't expect much from a reckless, flakey kid with a camera, so if she strikes gold it's a welcome surprise.

Artists are supposed to hit the mark much more often.

---

Everyone is getting their Christmas present late this year. Sorry, loves. Who knew it would get here so quickly?

Love,
Beth

Two things.

One, did I make plans with one of you for tomorrow? I have this vague feeling that I did, and I hate standing people up. I know I'm seeing trixiebella on Tuesday, but did I have a Monday commitment?

Two, I need help. Specifically, I need an intern. I've got a photo intern who is helping to keep me sane, along with two PWT helpers, but I need someone else to do general intern things.

The job ain't glam but it's important. I'd say 80% of it can be accomplished via email. The other 20% is about tromping to my apartment in Brooklyn to help with Projects, or meeting up with me for lunch (I'll buy) to chat work and play.

There's no money, but there's food, wine, love, merch and show tickets.

Because of that 20%, I need someone who is close to NYC, although if you or someone you know is AWESOME and reliable and could do the 80% via email, I can look into other options for Projects. Although that would mean I can't buy you lunch.

Where you go to school doesn't matter, IF you go to school doesn't matter, your age doesn't matter. Things that do matter: you need to be reliable, dedicated, patient, a good writer and passionate about helping. I would LOVE IT if you live on the internet and are tech saavy enough to use things like yousendit.com and blogging software.

Email me a paragraph or two about yourself if you're interested. Feel free to pass this along!

I am going to go through more common channels to search for someone, but I figured I'd throw it open to the blog first.

Love,
Beth

ps - Did I ever tell y'all that I started this job as an unpaid intern?

So... ages ago, before CD releases and tours and lost bags and tears and going a bit mad and crushes on redheads (athough there have ALWAYS been crushes on redheads)... I was in a music video.

Wait... what?

Yes, I was an abortion clinic nurse. The evil one with the syringe. Unfortunately my most evil moment got cut for legal reasons, but rest assured that one of us was evil and the other was infertile and sad about killing babies. And that one was Wizzle, not me.

The most fun part of the day may have been Michael Pope saying, "Smile like you are SELLING CARS!"



Love,
Beth

Today I listed to a live version of "Coming Up" by Ani DiFranco and I started crying when the audience screamed the final word with her.

and whoever's in charge better take the elevator down and put more than change in our cup or else we are coming UP.

Then I cried at this cartoon, which tevriel sent me ages ago when I was on the brink of a total nervous breakdown:


Then I cried at this ljsecret:


Then I cried about my life.

Then I wondered if maybe I was pregnant. I tried to remember my last period and I couldn't. I tried to remember what I had for lunch two days ago and I couldn't.

Then I remembered that you generally have to have sex with men to get pregnant, so I figured barring immaculate conception, I was okay.

Then I took a shower and played "Louder" by Vermillion Lies. I played it loud. I sang lounder.

Then I cried in the shower, even louder.

Then I ate some French fries with Frank's Red Hot on them.

Then I shaved my legs. I haven't shaved my legs in almost two months. I bought razors a few days ago because it had gotten to the point that it annoyed me. I used three and now my body is relatively hairless.

Then I bought An Open I by Kate Morrissey.

Then I tried to talk to indecisean on the phone, but his phone was messed up.

Then I snuggled with Cinderella.

Then I IM'd Steven and realized how glad I am that he is home.

Then I IM'd the Wizzle and talked to her about what was bothering me and we bonded and made a plan to get trashed once she moves back to NYC.

And now I feel much better.

Love,
Beth

ps - Go download Vermillion Lies tunes for FREE--- or, if you dig them, choose what you pay for them. Please please please do it. They are amazing and coming on tour with Amanda in November!

Some of the fans are upset they haven't gotten their pre-ordered signed CDs yet.

The CDs were supposed to arrive in New York from the distributor last Wednesday. This was the absolute earliest the distributor would release them to us, and Amanda's manager Emily had to pull many strings even to get them a little early..

They did not arrive. Then they were supposed to arrive Thursday, so Amanda rearranged her schedule so she could stay in NYC to sign them. Emily was on the phone with the shipping company a dozen times that day, as several "expected delivery times" came and went. I waited at the place they were to arrive for six hours... and they didn't show up. We found out later that the shipping company didn't bother to ring the bell. Great.

Amanda needed to go back to Boston, The CDs arrived the next day and we sent out a plea to get a fan to drive them to Boston. I am so happy we found someone, because I had a very sinking feeling that the solution was going to be "Beth rents a UHaul.". I rarely lose my cool but being behind the wheel of "Americas Moving Adventure" always does the trick.

Once the CDs were safely in Boston, Amanda discovered they had arrived wrapped in plastic, so I convinced two of my friends to come over and unwrap them. It took them four hours and cost Amanda $100 and me countless as-yet-to-be-paid sexual favors.. I still think we got a good deal.

Amanda signed the CDs on Sunday. We packaged them up and a very nice man from DHL came to pick them up. He almost didn't take them because he hadn't been told that each box was 45 lbs and he didn't have a dolly. Luckily Brendon (the TM) and Dave (soundguy) were at the house sorting gear, so they loaded the packages on the truck. Crisis averted.

The first batch of Amanda signed CDs arrived at musictoday on Tuesday. The same morning, the Ben Folds signed CDs arrived at Amanda's house. Tuesday was the release date of the record, so its not like she had anything to do other than sign CDs and eat peanut butter chocolate Kashi bars. Oh, except for phone interviews, a radio appearance, an in-store performance and signing and a webcast. I believe she also
flossed.

Amanda signed the CDs before she went to the radio station. I packaged them up and shipped them before dashing across town to meet her for the signing. A girl at the post office recognised me (!) and told me she loved the record (!!). I mentioned that there were 250 in this very large package and she eyed me up as if she were deciding if she could take me in a fight for it. Ultimately I must have looked too crazed, and the cds made their way to musictoday.

Today is Thursday. The rest of the CDs to be signed (3,000 more) were supposed to arrive at my house in NYC around 1PM. This means I got up at ass o'clock this morning to hightail it out of Boston to meet them.

They arrived at 6PM. I'm so glad I left Boston five hours early, that really made my day. It also made my day that it was a PALLET of 87 small boxes and the delivery man "doesn't do stairs". I stood on the middle step and he tossed them up to me.

My roommate David is a saint and is helping me unwrap them in exchange for sushi and cash. Amanda will sign them tomorrow and off they will go to musictoday, after I scavenge for boxes to pack them in so we're not paying to overnight 87 boxes.

All this isn't meant to be an elaborate excuse. It sucks that the fans haven't gotten their orders yet. But it is so frustrating to read people's complaints when we are really doing our very best to get the CDs to them under less than ideal conditions.

And we are learning for next time. Next time, we will get the CDs a month in advance if I have to break into the factory and hijack a UHaul to do so.

Love,
Beth

Amanda once woke me at dawn. kylecassidy was in town and we were going to go out and shoot an early morning light dead photo. On the median strip of a busy highway.

I was still drunk. The night before I'd tried to challenge Kyle drink for drink, not remember that a) he is a man, b) he has a bit more body mass than I do, and c) I'd already drunk a bottle of wine before he even got back to the house.

I puked in the garden. Chelsea, amazing human being that she is, stroked my back and waited to make the inevitable "too drunk to get it up" jokes until I was alive again. I hadn't been that drunk since college.

But there I was, trying to cross a four lane highway so Amanda could strip her clothes off and play dead while Kyle shot from above.

She was cheerful. I was drunk verging on hungover. Kyle leaned on the cement barrier and I was glad I wasn't alone in my early morning misery.

You will not see a photo of Amanda naked and dead on the median strip in the book. We never made it across the highway. After a half hour of trying to time our cross, we gave up and headed back to the Cloud Club. Kyle burrowed into his covers and I snuck back to Steven's living room floor, where Chelsea was still asleep.

Record is out. It's judgement day. I love our team, I love my boss, I love working hard and I love love love this record.

And I love you.

Love (see?),
Beth

My life is about traveling these days. I've logged more hours going from place to place this year than I did in the previous five combined.

Places I've laid my head this year:

Norfolk (and Richmond), VA
Boston, more times than I can count
SF, LA, San Diego, Tempe, Albequerque, Denver, Kansas City, Oklahoma City, Houston, Dallas, Austin. On a tour bus.
Pittsburgh (as always)
Rothbury, MI
London, UK

I hope my credit card recovers enough to spring me from the US again before the end of the year.

I am on another bus to Boston. It has become routine. Pack my life into a backpack and go. I went to London with one pair of pants and four shirts...had to sacrifice fashion to fit the computer, camera, video camera, harddrive and sundry cables.

I like the freedom of it all. Moogie asked if I was still planning on visiting this month. I objected to the word "planning" but told her that I had an idea that I would visit, and that I would know for sure when I got on the bus/plane.

I will tire of the travel, I'm sure, long before I log as many miles on the road and nights in stark hotel rooms that Amanda has.

But for now, the hours spent in transit give me time to collect my thoughts.

Album drops in two days. I have this feeling of quiet anticipation, as if this is the guillotine dropping on our former notions of what life is. When it does well--and it's too good not to do well-- things will start to move fast and loud.

I am ready.

9/16

Love,
Beth

I went to London.

There are 23,346 things I should be doing that are not writing this blog, but my brain is friend and I can't hold a pen in my right hand. It's the tendonitis, definitely, a side-effect from yesterday's 18 hour day at the computer.

Funny, how the body learns to compensate. I can type almost as fast with just my left hand and right pointer finger as I can with both hands in top form.

Once the album drops I will have to tend to this wrist. It was better for a while but has gotten worse again. The veins in my hand show like an old woman's.

I thought last night about what I would do if I lost my hands... my career as a photographer/graphic designer/personal assistant who emails constantly would be over. I could manage if I lost my hearing, maybe even if I lost my sight, but I need my hands. So of course my hands are the things that start to go.

--

I went to London. I went to London because I can't stand to be left behind, and because a psychic told me I would go to London in August and I would learn about love there. I went to London because Amanda was sad.

I went to London because I was sad and because Steven said, "Well, then why don't you just come to London?"

The question seemed so ridiculous, yet so obvious.

So I went to London.

--

I surprised Amanda at the football game she was hosting in Shepard's Bush. When I touched her arm, she turned and looked at me with mild annoyance, then confusion, and then mad, loud squealing.

I hung at the sidelines with a camera and a bottle of vile white wine, for which I still owe enchanting Robin four pounds, I think. I laughed with Steven and Becca the Merch Girl (who was visiting) and Max with the moustache who cannot stand the word "vagina."


(Max, Robin, Steven, Olga, and Becca)

A kid named Nima challenged Amanda and the 50 or so Dolls fans she was paying football (soccer!) with... he was a trip and a half. He's the one in the orange in this team portrait:



--

I went to London. I picked up a free newspaper and read my horoscope. It said, "You need to be there, somehow."



I went into a little astrology shop to buy another Spiral deck. They didn't have it, but the man behind the counter told me that he had something new that I would love.

He handed me the Tarot of the 78 Doors


I pulled up my sleeve and showed him my key. He smiled. We were both unnerved.

I gave Amanda privacy one night to make Important Calls. I sat just outside the door with my new deck. I laid the cards out in a calendar pattern before falling asleep, right there in the hallway.

--

I met a compatriot in London, a woman who led me through Chinatown at night and taught me about art. And myself.

She is magical.

She has a beautiful tattoo.



--

I went to London. I spent much of my time there looking around saying, "But... I'm in LONDON!"

It was worth the debt, the stress, the hours of travel, the sleeping-not-sleeping in Heathrow airport, the cold I got on the plane, the exhaustion, the sushi I won't be eating for the next two months as I try to fix my finances. It was all worth it, because I went to London.

Love,
Beth

I am in London. I am completely broke. I have not a working credit card in my possession and forty pounds in my pocket to get me back to the US. Everything is maxed out. That's what you get for impulsive, Beth. You end up sitting on a stoop in Covent Garden, watching the happy tourists shop while you wonder if the tube runs at 5 am or if you'll have enough for a cab if it doesn't. If not you suppose you'll just skip out on staying with the girl you can't sleep with anyway (no matter how much you like her, because she's on the payroll) and get the latest tube to the airport and wait. You've got plenty of work to keep you busy anyway.

This is being young and working in the arts and trading experience for security. You could have had security, you could have even had London, in fine Holiday Inns on six day sojourns from your Real Life. You could have done it the proper way and confined your adventures to properly scheduled, signed off on getaways.

Instead, you do this and eat $3 take-out chinese for a month to get back to some kind of financial equillibrium.

Amanda cheerily suggested I go back to the Rock for a week, so when I came back to rock I'd appreciate it more. I can't even imagine it. I have been doing this full time for only four months today and, still, I cannot go back. Put me in a sweater set and itchy slacks and sit me at a desk and I will spend every second plotting my escape and tearing at my nails.

Life is dodgy and weird but I am glad I'm here. I am lucky in that if I were stranded penniless in any major city in the world, I would be able to find a way to survive for long enough to get back home. I have friends all over the globe and friends who save my ass when it needs saving and friends who glare when I come tumbling through the door, unscathed from my latest adventure that logically should have stranded me on Planet Fucked. I am lucky that the universe works for me, even when it works against me.
There's an entire entry to be written about faith, but for now, I'll just say I feel lucky I have it.

In a little over 24 hours, I will be back in NYC.

I am broke. I am in London. I am lucky and I am happy.

Love,
Beth

I wrote this blog on my Blackberry on Monday, when I was on my way to Boston. I stayed in Boston for 6 hours, went back to NYC, threw some things in a bag and got on a plane to London.

I held off on posting this until I had the Boss's okay.

-----

I am on a bus to Boston. The power outlets don't work so I can't either. Frustrating.

Saw alannabear and her husband Mark. It was fun, like old times. Except instead of being jaded theatre students, now we're grown ups with jobs. She's a nurse. She helps deliver babies.

She said sometimes she wishes she had my life. I wanted to say that in the grand scheme of What Matters keeping babies alive probably trumps keeping the circus running smoothly.

Someone asked in a comment a while ago what I actually do. Well, I've got time and only a Blackberry to entertain me, so I will tell you.

I usually wake up around six because Cinderella wants food. At this point I will have slept between three and no hours. I stagger out of bed, feed the cat, and check my blackberry for anything Urgent. If I find nothing Urgent, I go back to sleep until about noon, when I get up, get breakfast, shower and start the day.

Email. Email requires about an hour to deal with Important things every day, and another hour for maintenance. I can skip maintenance, but each day I do that adds another 100 to 150 emails to be dealt with, then filed or deleted.

What are these emails?
Out of 100:
- 20 of them are from my Boss, to only me, asking that I Do something
- another 20 are from my Boss to other people and I'm CC'd.
- 5 are from my Boss's rad manager, asking that I Do something
- another 20 are from my Boss's rad manager to other people and I'm CC'd.
- 10 are from other people on the team (photographers, filmmakers, our internet marketing team, designers, publicists, the label, our artistic director, touring crew, merch folks), some of which require that I Do something
- 15 are from people who Want Something (an interview, a meeting, a track for a compilation, photographs for a press outlet, to open for my Boss, a box of swag for a charity auction, an introduction for a book, an advance copy of the CD, a spot on the guestlist, a photopass, an autograph)
- 3 are fanmail
- 3 are friends wondering why I've been out of touch for so long
- 3 are from my Mom
- 1 is a Your Mom joke

After email there are Projects. Right now we have:

- book with Neil Gaiman and Kyle Cassidy
- 7" vinyl
- WKAP songbook
- world tour planning, including:
-- merch round-up (we'll talk more about this later)
--photo passes
--guestlist
--finding yoga on tour for my Boss
- launch of amandapalmer.net
- launch of redesigned dresdendolls.com
- peak oil awareness project (I am trying hard to care about peak oil)

These projects take varying degrees of time. There are also ongoing projects like:

- artist outreach and relations for Post-War Trade
- fixing my Boss's computer when things go wrong
- reorganizing the tens of thousands of live and promo photos in the archive
- pulling photos for use in press, website, MySpace, etc.
- helping troubleshoot when Things Go Wrong (like the recent binding problems with The Virginia Companion)
- maintaining my Boss's schedule. Sometimes this involves the actual creation of more time
- keeping a finger on the pulse of the fanbase; this involves checking MySpace, the forum and the comments on my Boss's blog
- sorting fanmail
- general clerical (mail this, order that, file this, draft a letter to her, etc)

These things also take varying degrees of time. I do things like check the forum every day. I haven't really started reorganizing the archive.

Now let's get back to merch. I'm in charge of organizing all our ideas, pricing things out, guaging interest, and making recommendations to my Boss. Then we talk it out and come up with a full plan. I work with designers to make it happen. Sometimes time is short and I do the designs myself. Sometimes I clean up or alter old designs. Then the art goes to the merch company who produces it.

This takes way more time than it sounds like it would.

Okay. So Projects, both finite and ongoing, take up most of the rest of my day. I usually get dinner around 8PM and then settle in for a few more hours of work. By then there is new email to be dealt with, so I do that.

Around midnight or 1am I usually spend some time reading the blogs and watching YouTube videos. I also try to fit in time IMing with various friends during the course of the day-- I take breaks or multitask whenever they happen to be around.

About 2am I realize often that I Did Not Do something important, so I do it then. Wander to the kitchen for a snack, then I settle in to try to sleep. About this time Cinderella decides its time to sleep too, so we snuggle. While we snuggle, I think about the things I didn't get done and create a mental gameplan for the next day. Around 4 or 5am I fall asleep.

This is a day when I'm in New York and my Boss is not. When we are in the same city, my days are very different, especially if there is a show. But the majority of the time, this is what the days look like. Sometimes I alter my schedule to see a movie or have brunch with a friend. I am finding work life balance, slowly.

I find it incredibly fulfilling. Yes, I'd rather be out on tour, but until that happens again, I do this and I know that what I do is necessay and important and keeps things running smoothly--and I am
good at it.

And, unlike Alanna, when I have a bad day it's not because babies died.

Love,
Beth

So my blog about getting lost with Neil Gaiman is featured today on Save The Assistants.

I love that blog.

Today it led me to a very funny account of Neil's assistant Lorraine's day.

My days are a little different, so I will have to do one of those for myself sometime soon. Must remember.

And now, back to sorting out photo shoots, keyboards, merch and phoners.

Love,
Beth

"You haven't written in your blog in a few days."

"Yeah, I've been writing mostly one person blogs."

"One person blog?"

"You know, when you write a blog but instead of posting it you just email it to one person?"

"Beth... those are called 'letters.'"

---

I've spent today on my back and not in a hot way.

I fell down the stairs right before Amanda's set yesterday. There was no light on the stairs from her trailer-- someone told me later that they thought there'd been lights but maybe the rain took them out. As I neared the bottom, I thought, "This is too dark, Amanda might fall--" and then I missed the last step and my ankle bent in a way that ankles should not bend.

I fall down enough to know when it's a bad falling down experience.

Amanda's manager Emily is always great to have in a crisis.

"You fell down?"

"Yeah, the stairs were--"

"Here's an icepack. Want a shot? Here's a triple shot of whiskey."

With the help of Emily's whiskey, I made it through the show. I tucked myself into a corner near the side of the stage. Soon I was joined by Michael Pope. We sat hip to hip and took in the beauty of the room, without words.

I forget how magical she is.

---

During signing, I stood with the man who runs the site. He was a little younger than my dad, Italian, with a suit like he'd stepped out of some mob movie.

A woman came up to Amanda and extended her hands. They were shaking. Amanda took them and a whispered conversation began.

"She's shaking like a leaf," the mob boss marveled, no hint of judgement in his voice.

"Amanda has that effect on people sometimes."

"I watched her tonight and I said to myself, I said, 'How did you not know this woman?' She's something rare."

Another fan approached, a boy. He dropped the CD he was holding.

"That one's shaking too!" the mob boss exclaimed. "This is incredible."

I looked out at the lights of the Brooklyn Bridge and I remembered waiting in line to speak to her the very first time. I kept fading to the back of the crowd so I could watch her speak to everyone else. I was so touched that she took her time with each and every person-- even sick with the flu, even at 2AM, even when her friends were waiting.

"I like the ones that stay late the best," I told him, gesturing to the small crowd. "They make us possible."

---

It was 2:30AM. Late May. My first tour. I'd just finished telling Amanda how frustrated I was about everything.

"And I hate the fans! At the end of the night, I just want to be done and crash and they always are hanging out by the bus and you always sign. I hate that."

Her lips grew tight. I could tell I'd said something wrong. But she just got up and walked toward her bunk.

"You will have to find a way to love the fans, Beth," she said, turning back to me. "Otherwise you won't last six months in this job."

---

Those first days of tour were excruciating for me. I'd just left a very normal 9-5 job where I wore stockings and heels and made bland conversation with my coworkers. Switching to the 24-7, hectic, high-stress and completely foreign world of tour was hard.

I stewed. I stressed. I had a short temper and a bad attitude. I can't imagine I was very pleasant to be around.

And then The Universe sent me what I needed to transform. It sent me a girl with a guitar in Denver. It sent a boy in a dress in Albuquerque. It sent the fans in Texas, every city, who stepped back during Gardener instead of crushing in on Amanda like they did in LA. It sent the brother and sister who came to Houston and Dallas and then let me convince them to come to Austin. The girl was delicate and serious and she gave me a note for Amanda.

She reads them. I know people wonder about that, but she reads them all.

---

Someone asked me the other day if I was uncomfortable that the fans know who I am.

I'm not.

I feel more connected to the world now that I have the fans in my life than I ever have before.

And I do love them. It didn't take learning. It took lessons.

Love,
Beth

It wasn't really all about the t-shirt.

Someone on The Dresden Dolls forum posted a question asking those of us who work for Amanda how we got our jobs, and if we were fans first.

I started to answer the question there, but I knew my reply would grow too long.

I was a fan first. Still am, most of the time. ;)

( The long answer to the first question. )

Here's the short answer: I got the job by dreaming big + being damn good at what I do + working hard and taking risks to get what I wanted... with an assist by fate.

Love,
Beth

For those of you who haven't seen it already, Neil was amused by my last blog entry.

It is 2:25 AM and I am just now settling down to try to go to sleep. My sleep schedule is ridiculously malformed at this point.

A lot of people commented on the past few entries in my journal with some variation on "you're so lucky" or "I'm so jealous." I have mixed feelings about this.

Being inside of my life, I know that, no matter how cool my job can be, it can be equally frustrating. 90% of my job (probably more) is the same stuff you hate doing. Tedious returning of emails, paperwork, organizing things. The hours are longer than you can imagine, vacations are non-existent and the pay is super low.

BUT... do not think I am complaining, because I recognize that 10% of my job is insanely cool. The perks to this gig are awesome. And I get all the groupies I can handle! I think that alone is worth the $35,000 pay cut from my last job.

...

Lucky. I struggle with the idea of "lucky." There are huge parts of my life (this job, for one) that would not exist if it weren't for fate. Fate put me on a plane next to a person who changed my life by connecting me with Amanda.

Fate opens the door. Had I not worked my ass off developing a wide range of skills at a ton of soul-sucking jobs, I never would have landed this gig. Had I not been brave enough to take the risk of saying, "I'm good at what I do and I think I can help you," I would not be here, now, lying on a mat on the floor of the Cloud Club, looking up at the plants and the Christmas lights.

Fate could blow and writhe all day long, but if one does not also act then it is but a hollow play for impressionable children.

When I got my wrist tattoo, I decided on "aut viam inveniam aut faciam"-- "I'll either find a way or I'll make one"-- but I still think fondly of the runner up.

Audentes fortuna juvat.

Fortune favors the fearless.

Amanda is dead, again. kylecassidy is armed with camera. Neil Gaiman is writing big stories in a tiny black book.

Life is too fucking amazing.

Love,
Beth

Oh, hi, what's this?

My bathtub photo on Spin.com

Life... is good. I'm in Boston. We held the premiere of the music videos on Friday and Saturday nights. I sold merch, which was way fun. The fans seemed to love it. I love the fans.

I was up until 8:30 this morning working on Post-War Trade. It looks like it finally might launch in the next week or two. Thank god.

More later... now to the Post Office.

Love,
Beth

Boston Herald piece on Amanda... with a pretty nice picture.

:)

Birthday Day-In-The-Life

Go. Look! Best day EVER.

Love,
Beth

Go read Amanda's blog.

Hi.

Love,
Beth

I feel like I should update.

First of all, thank you all for the love you've sent my way this past week. It helps more than I can possibly say. I will respond to all of your comments when I get a chance to.

I am back in New York. This feels good and right. My vacation to P-town was absolutely amazing, just what I needed, but I was glad to come home on Saturday (yesterday.)

The Princess... my gut tells me this is not over. Not just because I don't want it to be.

But I am being cautious. I am enjoying my time alone. I am bonding with my own apartment. I'm not jumping on a train at a moment's notice just because she wants to see me. I am recognising that there are flaws in her, some of which really bother me-- not the least of which is that when the going got tough, she... went. Is this someone who I can count on in the future?

My own hurt and fear is coloring this entry. I know that I was very happy with her. I know that she is often a kind, generous, warm, loving, thoughtful, funny, intelligent, dynamic person-- even if she can sometimes be selfish, cold, and inconsiderate.

I regret that I am so burned by the past week that I no longer have it in me to leap. When did I become so cautious? I miss fearlessness.

--

In other news, I got a fantastic temp job for the next two weeks-- assistant to the VP of the Rockefeller Foundation. Sure, it's only two weeks, but I'm thrilled. And, for the record, even as a temp gig it pays better than the Food Bank did.

KT helped me put together outfits for the week. She threw things together and I was shocked to find that I can, in fact, look like a grown up. In my skirt-suit, I even look like a corporate whore. The look KT referenced most often for the other outfits was "art gallery owner," usually modified by a word or phrase like "Upper East Side" or "lesbian."

I had no idea I had such fabulous clothes. Of course, most of them came from thrift stores in Ohio and PA back when I visited in April. None of them fit at the time-- I just had a LOT of faith. All the skirts that fit today were size 8s. This I am thrilled about.

--

When I was younger, 12 or 13, I used to look at my mother's senior high school photo and think that she looked like the most beautiful young woman I'd ever seen. I was convinced that I would never have that look: those amazing cheekbones, the classic smile, the impeccable hair.

My hair is far from impeccable, but when I looked in the mirror today while KT was helping me pair a deep purple slim turtleneck with dark gray wide-leg trousers and black heels, I was a young woman. Absolutely shocking. Neat.

Love,
Beth

I pulled the bright orange greeting card out of my purse at the diner last night, four drinks into what was an evening of immense relief. Found a pen in the depths of my cluttered purse and tried to write something to a kid I used to know on the occasion of his sixth birthday. The card was, of course, already late, even though I bought it with plenty of time to spare.

It is now back in my purse, still blank.

--

On the train, bitching loudly on the phone to my mother about how much I hate my job. The train starts to go underground and I say, "I love you, Momma." The fortyish woman across from me smiles. She's wearing a long fur coat and she says, "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation... I think we're a lot alike."

"You hate your job?"

"No. I call my mom every day."

And so we talked about mothers and how she lived away from hers for two years and hated it and since then they split their time between New York and Paris.

"My mother," she says, "Is the smartest person I know. Today I was telling her about-- well, you know, everyone has problems. And she said, 'Jeannie, you have to take it one step at a time towards happiness.'"

Again, curse the universe for sending me what I need to hear. "Your mother is very wise," I say, and Jeannie squeezes my hand and wishes me a lovely day as she dashes off the train at Canal. My day is instantly better.

--

I made it through my last workday without the Princess. I hadn't realize how much better she makes the office seem. Last week was really, really shitty, but next week is sure to be better, if only because she'll be stopping by my desk ten times a day.

My weekend is so infinitely boring. Today, grocery shopping and the hardware store (to buy supplies for mouse-proofing.) Tomorrow, laundry. This is probably all a good thing, though.

Love,
Beth