Hold me closer, tiny dancer.

It's too weird that I haven't been all bandwife-y lately, right?

I admit it's been a while since I so much as casually mentioned a certain band. THE band, obvi: The Mister's (Wonder)-bread-and-(i-cant-believe-it's-not)-butter and the fodder for many a dramatic post. Really, a huge inspiration for this blog, at least in the affecting-me kind of way (because obviously it's all about me). Annnnnyway, I've been mum for a reason. While I can't really get into specifics, let's just say that the boys are on a bit of an "indefinite hiatus". That's what I'm allowed to say (and I'm trying to be less mouthy and rebellious). 

No rehearsing, no recording, no shows, no tours. 

 { why is this not happening? like, now? cold case. }

(If you know me in real life, I've undoubtedly blabbed the whole story in person. If I haven't, we clearly need to do coffee. Stat!)

What does this all mean in the grand scheme of life/music for Alex and me? We still don't know. But while Sweet Thing is on an unspecified break, I do know that I have a lot less me-time and it's making me squirm. 

Look at me! I soaked pillows upon pillows with fat tears feeling sorry for myself and my tragic lonely bandwife condition. Now I'm complaining that I never get the house to myself? Can you believe this girl?! Impossible to satisfy. I also know that I really, really, REALLY miss it. It = everything. Especially the cheering. Oh dear. I'm a piece of work.

 

{ I mean, who ARE these people!? }

  
I should be less self-involved. This big empty space is his burden, not mine. During this weird limbo stage in his life, Alex is contemplating this: what, oh what, to DO with all of this free time! 

Well.

Write an album, of course. 

I'm sure he'd rather I not trumpet this fact to the masses (or the 8 people who read my blog) but it's his fault for marrying an oversharer/big-mouth. INYOFACESUCKA! 

He's built himself a "music room" in our unfinished basement. I am convinced that mold spores will be the cause of his untimely death. But he's a badass musician, right? A big middle-finger/crotch-grab to death!!! Not really. He's just SO desperate for his own space that he's willing to make himself a little sick for it. Sigh. We need to move.

 

{ really? unfit for humans. even for THIS caveman. }

So the music plays on, Sweet Thing or no Sweet Thing. It's a good thing. I think. It's the only "career" he really wants. But I'm pushing for a more stable Plan B in case the music thing doesn't work out. I sound un-supportive. Oh no, no. It's not for any lack of faith in his awesomeness, just complete disdain for the pathetic, crumbling music industry (especially in Canada). 

Sure, I married the creative left-brain type. I AM the creative left-brain type: "Spontaneity! Romantic poverty! Starving for art! Love is all you need!" But that side of me is very equally balanced by my plan-ahead, pragmatic right-brain: "Investments! Budgets! Colour-coded file folders! 5-year plans!"

And this side of me is displeased. But he's trying. He has a solid background in the tv biz and is going through the soul-crushing task of writing endless cover letters and applying for roles for which he's hella-overqualified. I can't believe we're back HERE again.

And what of me? Since my bandwife role has been stripped bare, I feel disconnected from his music-life. 

 { scruffy beards and wayward dress-straps? we belong in a green room }

So I've asked to help. 

We've already decided that if the solo thing takes off, I'd be his daily biz manager (ahem, nagging wife with additional accounting duties) and responsible for all of his big-upping (I'm experienced). But what about now? Oh, well, y'know, I'm just going to...

WRITE LYRICS! 


So excited. He's agreed to give me 2 unfinished songs and I get to pen the words! Are you really understanding how awesome this is?!? Don't laugh. This part requires little to no musical ability (and I have little to no musical ability, emphasis on "no"). I'm not a bad poet and I love words to death, so I might actually pull this off. The vocal melody is there, so easy-peasy, yeah? Also, if we write a hit, I'll rake in the royalties. Ha.

John's Imagine was based on Yoko's imagination, after all. I need to live up to my handle.