come to my monthly party!

omg omg omg omg omg omg

omg

so exciting!

i finally got my very own monthly spot at the boom boom room, one of my favorite spots to play in san francisco!  so here’s the thing though: they gave me two months to start.  wednesday feb. 5th and wednesday march 5th.  i gotta prove i got peeps, and then they might give me a whole year!  woo hoo!

this has been a dream of mine for a looooong time.  this will be my night where i can workshop new ideas, re-arrange songs with new lineups and collaborations, work with dancers, light designers, djs, emcees, vocalists, musicians, the works!  i intend to pour all of the performance ideas that have built up over the years into this event to make sure that each month, something super special is hatched just for you guys.

february 5th will feature legendary one-man band and loop guitar pioneer, the genie.  this guy’s dope.  if you haven’t seen him… dude, just check him out, he’s amazing.

in addition, the night will always be closed out by my awesome best friends, JK47, rad DJs with impeccable taste that will you keep you dancing late night.

this is really my gift to you guys.  the night is totally free!  your gift to me is just coming out and enjoying yourselves.

see you february 5th!

check out the Facebook event here!

diary of a substitute #4

it sucks, really it’s just the worst feeling in the world, when a group of eighth grade boys is laughing at you and you don’t know why.  it’s a trap and there’s no way out.  when you get to this point, it’s the result of one folly and one folly only, incorrect expectations.  the kids are laughing at you, always, because they see you expect something that you’re not going to get.  it’s hilarious.

what can i say?  i was thrown off.  when i arrived at the school, mentally prepared to sub for 7th and 8th grade math (the worst!) i was given the delightful surprise that instead i would be teaching first grade.  i loooooove teaching kindergarten and first grade.  these guys are so easy.  first of all, they love you, without you having to do anything.  and when you show them special attention, they absolutely melt.  they’re easily entertained with the simplest and most tedious of games, and their rewards and threats can be minimal and inspire intense concentration or deep remorse.  but as i walked into the classroom i could tell that actually this group was not just your average cute group of six and seven year olds.  these guys were a dream.  i picked them up from recess and their single-file line was impeccable, really, truly stunning.  they were silent when i arrived but as soon as they saw me their little eyes widened with the anticipation of all the questions they could ask me, later of course, now wasn’t the time or place, they knew that.

we walked slowly and deliberately into the classroom and i, quite sincerely, complemented them on their extraordinary line right up to the entrance, where they put their backpacks on their hooks and marched onto their little squares on the rug at the front of the class.  i came up to the front of the class and took a seat, beaming, and announced, “good morning, boys and girls!  i’m ms. rachel, i’m your substitute today.”

“gooood morn-eeeen missess raaaa. chelll.”  they chorused.

“wow, i’m already so impressed with this group.” the lesson plan had said that the morning usually started with a song.  “would you all like to learn a new song?”  they nodded eagerly and exchanged sideways glances with each other, shifting in their seats a little bit.  i started them clapping on their laps and hands.  lap, clap. lap, clap. lap, clap. lap, clap.  they were already giggling.

i had a little frog

his name was tiny tim

i put him in the bathtub

to see if he could swim

he drank up all the water

he ate up all the soap and then he

burped last night

from a bubble in his throat!

*hiccup* excuuuuuuuse meeeee!

they totally lost it.  they were all hiccupping and burping and saying “excuuuuuuuse meeee.”  ah, the little ones.  if you reference bodily sounds of any kind they’ll be yours forever.  after we finished the song, a boy painfully stretched his hand as high as he could with a look of intense desire and strain.  “yes?” i asked.  the room immediately became attentive to the boy with the raised hand.

“can we play cat, dog, mouse???””

something flashed in the eyes of the other kids as the power of this possibility hit them.  a murmur of whispered “yeahyeahyeahyeah…” spread throughout the group.

“well…” i pretended to mull this over for a moment.  “right now you have art, but afterwards i think we’ll have some time to play it before recess.”

if the kids could have screamed they would have.  obviously they couldn’t.  they knew that.  so they silently opened their mouths and looked at one another as if they were screaming.

after art, we indeed played cat, dog, mouse.  the kids got into a circle, already smiling in preparation of whatever about this game was so silly to them.  one of the girls instructed me, “now you say, cat or dog or mouse.”

“cat.” i said.  everyone looked around confused.  another boy came up to me and said, “you have to tell us to start walking in a circle first.”  the group nodded in agreement.

“oh, sorry.  ok, start walking!”  the smiles returned and they walked, half giggling in the circle.  “cat.” i said.  they all turned around and changed directions.  now they were completely overtaken by the giggling.  “dog.” i said.  they lost it again and began spinning in circles.  suddenly some of them were sitting in the center, hiding their faces in their hands while laughing in fun, slightly embarrassed shame.  i had no idea what was going on.  “mouse.” i said.  everyone froze.  one little girl, looking at me with a smile, started moving.  she wasn’t getting past the group.  everyone saw her.

“valeria’s moving! she has to go to the center!” they yelled.  she sat down, smiling.

just then someone walked into the class room.  “hi, sorry for all the craziness this morning,” she said.  i shrugged.  i didn’t know what she was talking about.  “we’re going to take you upstairs for seventh grade math and then you’ll be back with these guys in the afternoon.”  what, dude? you gotta be fucking kidding me.  “great!” i smiled.

so i walked upstairs to room 202 and was relieved to find a completely silent classroom and the teacher for whom i was supposed to sub.  “great, thanks for coming,” she said warmly.  “let me show you what’s going on.”  i saw all the signs of a classroom that was extremely well-behaved.  and based on the experience i had with first grade, and the school culture so far, i figured i was in for a refreshingly well-behaved seventh grade group.  she showed me the work and said, “it’s ok if there’s a little whispering…” this was a key piece of information.  if a teacher believes that silence is possible, that’s an extremely good sign.

i got prepped for the 8th and 7th graders and walked outside to greet the 8th graders as they lined up.  as they came in i waited expectantly up front.  the students were entering rowdier than i expected.  the volume level was already high enough that i couldn’t use my relaxed speaking voice, so i decided to start strong and decisive.  i tried the countdown.  “ok everyone i’m going to countdown from five and by the time i get to one i want to see you all in your seats, silent, and looking at me. five!” they continued talking and falling on the desks like drunk people.  “four!”  i started to feel uneasy.  i saw not even a flicker that they registered that i was even talking.  shit.  this is the problem.  when you think something’s going to work, you try it, and then when it doesn’t, you can’t just abandon ship.  you gotta see it through, and play the mean sub.  that was the situation i was now in.  i increased the volume, “THREE!” i screamed.  a few kids turned to me and started chuckling.  shit.  shit, shit, shit.  now they hate me, and i have no control of the class.  the worst possible combo.  by the time i got to one i was actually pissed off.  i felt it in my blood and it scared me.  it’s dangerous to be this emotional in middle school.  for students and for teachers.  the stress and resentment of the previous days started flowing into my veins.  i was supposed to be camping… but my car died and so i had to be subbing for extra cash.  these facts rose into my consciousness as justification for anything evil i ended up doing to these little shits.

after three exhausting periods of power struggle, i was returned to my model first graders.  my face was transformed from the hard, bitter, tired bitch that resentfully subbed the middle school into the kind, approachable, fun-loving lady the first-graders knew me to be.  their faces lit up as i entered the room.  “ms. rachel, ms. rachel!  can we play cat, dog, mouse again?” they pleaded.  i pretended to think again.  “hmm… yeah.  i  guess we can do that.”  the class erupted into gleeful screeches.

diary of a substitute #3

sometimes it is sooooooo hard to keep a straight face while telling a sixth grader to be quiet, especially when what they are supposed to be listening to is possibly the least important presentation they will ever hear.  i’ve shown up just in time to participate in their community meeting.  the topic this week: dress code.

the administrator has put together a lovely powerpoint presentation for the fifth and sixth graders, with pictures of shirts tucked in, shoelaces tied, and a demonstration of the stark contrast between a boy with a hat on, and his hat taken off.  see how he’s taken the hat off?  yes.  i do see.  the hat is off now.  god.  i’m DYING to check my smartphone and see if something interesting has happened.  actually, i would take anything at this point.  any status update, any e-mail, anything at all to break up the banality of this guy’s voice.

which is why i can’t in good conscience come down too hard on these children who have already sat through about 20 minutes of this heroically and who are finally reaching their breaking point.  their shoulders are moving.  they’re starting to hang their teeth off the backs of their chairs, experiment with what the world looks like upside down, pluck at the headbands of those around them… anything.  they’re getting desperate.

the crowd has started chit chatting.  “excuse me.” the administrator says dryly.  he waits an unwise amount of time with an unwise amount of uncertainty as to what response he’s expecting from that ‘excuse me.’   the chattering continues.  he looks around stoically.  “if i need to do a count-down, that’s five minutes from your recess.”  i look at the kids and i see literal physical pain on their faces.  the last thing they want is time off their recess, yet they don’t know how much longer they can take without some kind of stimulation.  they scrunch their eyebrows and kick their legs, trying to send the inconvenient energy and curiosity out through their toes.

he’s moved on to the slide about “professional day.”  “can someone tell me what professional day is?”  a small girl towards the front raises her hand.  “yes, young lady.”  some imperceptible amount of sound comes from up front and he asks her to stand up.  she meekly scratches her head while she begins an admirable attempt at addressing the entire school for, maybe her first time.  “um… well, professional, professional day.  it’s, um… when, like, the rest of the days?  cause you have to wear your uniform usually?  but on professional day?  you don’t cause, um, it’s professional, like, so you have to wear different.  you have to dress different on that day.” she quickly sits.

“ok,” the administrator says.  “cara says you dress different on professional day.  do you all agree with her?”  the kids aren’t sure if they’re supposed to talk.  a few say yes.  a few others slowly nod.  still more look like they’re about to cry.  “excuse me.  i asked if you all agree with her.”  a few more say yes.  “that’s better.  ok.  so, if it’s true that we dress differently on professional day, why is that we dress differently that day?” a few brave, or maybe just bored, souls raise their hands.  “yes, young man.” he says to a boy up front.

“professional day is when you wear suits and look professional like you were going to a job interview or an interview for college so that you can learn what it’s like to be professional.”  i let out a sigh of relief that’s slightly too loud.  i think for a moment that this child has just succeeded in saying everything that needs saying about professional day and that we can now move on to another, possibly more interesting topic, like, maybe, the types of hair accessories allowed on campus.  but the administrator is not so easily thrown.  “young man, that was a very good answer, but i asked why do we have professional day?”  i’m totally at a loss.  i thought for sure this prodigy just answered that very question.  he raises his eyebrows in nervousness.  he’s drawing a blank.  what did he miss?

“we have professional day because that’s the day the upper school has college day, and we’re preparing you for college day.”  oh.  i see.  this kid jumped the gun.  he forgot that middle school is actually just preparation for high school, and that everything they teach you is in order to make it easier for your highschool teachers to control you.  what he doesn’t know is that he’ll actually need to unlearn all of this by the time he applies to college if he wants to have a prayer of seeming like an individual thinker.  here’s the lesson, kid.  here’s what this whole assembly is about.  don’t get ahead of yourself, and don’t think too deep.  focus on the rules, and the small world that forms your school.  don’t think outside of this little learning factory.  you won’t be ready for that until you’re good and broken in and ready to follow the rules.

“so, what types of clothes are acceptable on professional day?” asks the administrator as he clicks to a new slide showing pictures of men taken from catalogs, all wearing sports coats, collared shirts, ties, etc… one by one children raise their hands and guess parts of the dress code for professional day.  i am in absolute agony.  the boredom i feel is bringing me right back to childhood, waiting for my mom to finish a parent-teacher conference while i sat in the lobby thinking, jeeeeeeeeeez this is taking a long time, practicing the utmost will power to keep from running circles in the lobby, tearing all the art off the walls and making confetti with it.  except now i have something easier to gratify my excess energy which is a smartphone, and i know it holds all of the answers to every negative emotion i’m feeling right now; distraction, social interaction, new information.  and it’s just sitting there, burning a hole in my pocket.  i need it.  i need to look at it.  no!  definitely not.  i’m supposed to be modeling for these kids how to pay attention, and looking at my smartphone is an absolutely unacceptable example to set.  so i try to focus on the kids, since the presentation isn’t going to do anything to hold my interest.

what i see really kind of breaks my heart.  the kids have gone past their breaking point and they have regressed into zombie-like infants.  pulling on their tongues and lips, rolling their eyes maniacally.  they’ve lost it.  well, i don’t know what they’ll learn later today, but at least they’re docile.

back from the burn, ready to get busy!

well, friends, i’m back from the burn and ready to get moving on all of the exciting things i have lined up.

exciting thing number one: i’ll be playing a feature @ the boom boom room in SF on september 15th!  i’ll be collaborating with renowned beatboxer and mc INFINITE.  it’ll be sick!! also, it’s a free show!

check out the facebook event!

exciting thing number two: my album is almost almost done!  stay tuned for more details including when/where the album release party will be.

exciting thing number three: snow angel shows are happening throughout october and november!  stay tuned for more dates.

exciting thing number four: i’m working on a theme song for bawdy storytelling’s new podcast. woo hoo!

 

oh my gosh, least informative news update i’ve ever written… that’s ok, guys.  that’s ok.  more will come.  for now, just mark your calendars for the 15th and i’ll see you there.  love you!

exciting show tomorrow night!

come out to the web tomorrow night for an enchanting evening of art and music.  art by lauren eathe oakshott and performances by lark, emily moldy, and heather normandale.

7pm @ the web

355 12th st.

oakland, ca

$5-15 donation (no one turned away for lack of funds)

 

new article in shalom

this article was published in the newsletter for the jewish peace fellowship in the may issue of their newsletter, “shalom”

read it here on their website, or read it below…

1-5-13: Day three of Birthright, Negev desert

 

It’s a meditation exercise to sit on the ground and imagine how supported you are.  But sitting here, in the desert in the Negev, you don’t feel supported by the earth, you feel engulfed by it.  Like it might crack open and swallow you at any moment in its teeming, shifting crust.  The shadows of the clouds are massive countries super-imposed on the yellow-brown sand like oil slicks, and the clouds themselves move like steamboats, slowly, but perceptively through the vast ocean of this massive sky.  They’re not so much mountains, but rather, harsh scabs on the arms of war, wounds that don’t heal but merely change form.  This place offers nothing like the mothering comfort one feels in the dank and mushroomy cocoon of the redwood forests of my native California.  It offers only you, alone with yourself and the knowledge that others have also known solitude and survived, regardless.  

….

 

At this point, most people who are at all interested in Israel are familiar with Birthright, the free 10-day tour of Israel provided to young Jews from around the world. The pro-Zionist lobby hails it as a fantastic success story; an incredible opportunity for young people to get in touch with their Jewish ancestry, feel connected to Jews their own age, and gain an appreciation for Israel.  Those on the left who are critical of Israel tend to view it as a terrifying source of propaganda and brainwashing that uses creepy forms of manipulation to make young Jews support Israeli policies, perhaps even to the point of “making Alliyah,” emigrating to Israel.

 

I certainly identify more with the latter category, which is why I had mixed feelings about attending Birthright in the first place.  Not only did I not want to legitimize the idea that I actually had some kind of birthright to the land of Israel and Palestine just for being Jewish, but I was nervous that I would be forced into situations that would bother me, like having to sing along to lots of Jewish songs that I didn’t know, or cry about the Holocaust in some kind of ritualized group catharsis, or be surrounded by people who nodded vigorously when outrageously racist comments about Arabs were made.  I decided to go for two main reasons: I had never spent any time around Zionists before, and I felt that it was important for me to try to understand their point of view and I wanted to go to Palestine afterwards, and I didn’t think it was likely that I would make it there if not for a free trip.  So I hesitantly arrived at the LAX airport on January 1st, armed with an open and patient mind, took a deep breath, and hoped for the best.

 

My experience was complicated.  I can’t say that what I went through amounted to brainwashing or propaganda, at least not in the traditional sense.  I believe that part of the reason for this was the particular trip I was on; a niche trip, of which there are more and more.  The group I participated in was the “outdoors” – themed East Bay trip.  (East Bay refers to the Eastern part of the San Francisco Bay Area in California, which includes Oakland and Berkeley.)  I actually believe there was more to this niche than we initially realized.  Here’s an excerpt from my journey on the fifth day:

 

1-7-13: I’ve never been surrounded by so many atheists my own age.  Who would have thought?  Maybe it’s because Jews come around to secularism easier than Christians?  And I’ve never really kicked it with a bunch of Jews before.  How ironic that that’s how I ended up relating to my fellow Jews.  That’s how I’ve found community amongst the Jewish people.  Through atheism.  

 

Even our tour guide was an “out” Atheist.  I considered the possibility recently that we were all selected to be on this group together partly because we were either atheists or “spiritual.”  I think that our American trip leaders were the only ones who were full-on religious Jews.  So they avoided a lot of biblical talk that I’ve been warned about on Birthright.  There was no reference to the “holy land” and they didn’t try to talk about the stories in the Bible as if they were real history.  In fact, there was no reference to the Bible at all.  It was like they knew that these triggers would immediately turn us off, so they avoided them.

 

Our tour guide was also very willing to admit that the Palestinians had some legitimate complaints.  He didn’t get into any of them, but he didn’t vilify the Palestinians either.  His attitude struck me as sort of a courageous but cynical libertarian, who mistrusted government of any kind, and who had a somewhat pessimistic view of humanity as a whole, but a strong sense of respect and integrity about the humans whose paths he crossed, including his “Arab friends” whom he mentioned vaguely on more than one occasion.

 

What it FELT like we were getting on this trip was a very a-political, fun, first-hand experience of Israel.  Furthermore, as has been documented by other writers who attended Birthright, the social dynamics end up taking up a lot of your focus.  First of all, each evening ends around 5 or 6pm and you’re not allowed to leave the hotel so there’s nothing to do but get drunk and hang out, a situation ripe for a regression to high school.  Crushes develop, cliques form, some people struggle to make friends, gossip starts; what else are we going to do with our time?  At a certain point on the trip, participants began to ask: Why can’t we have a structured conversation about Judaism or the Israel-Palestine conflict?  A few evenings we were told that we would have some kind of group discussion, but nothing actually happened.  This puzzled me until I read more about what others have written about Birthright.  It’s apparently common practice for the organizers to avoid anything too heavy that might lead to critical thinking about Israel.  They like to keep it light and fun while occasionally hinting at the tragic cross the Israelis have to bear by living in a war zone.  By avoiding any kind of detailed discussion of the conflict, but keeping a hint of tragedy in the background, the organizers made it feel like our fun-loving attitude was courageous, rather than indulgent.

 

What was tricky about Birthright’s biased message was that it came in the form of omission, which is inherently hard to spot and even harder to criticize, especially when you’re tired and hung-over, and preoccupied with why your crush didn’t sit with you on the bus.  My fatigue and social stimulation paired well with my decision to keep a low profile on the trip.  I didn’t ruffle any feathers.  I just enjoyed myself.  And though my Pro-Palestinian views stayed intact, I didn’t feel particularly obliged to share them with anyone, unless I was talking to someone one-on-one.

 

But once you cross that wall into the occupied territories, you want to vomit up all the Kool-aid you realize that you’ve just swallowed over the past 10 days.  I didn’t so much feel as if I’d been lied to; I just felt sheltered.  The diary that I kept on my experience in Palestine has a totally different voice than the diary I kept while in Israel.  It was as if I had been thrown head first into an urgent and tangible reality where what was happening around me mattered.  Instead of extended soliloquies about my new friends or thoughts about home, I was writing pages and pages about the wall, villagers whose homes had been demolished, how the universities have to have their lab equipment smuggled in, what sustainable agriculture looks like in Palestine.  I felt as if I had come out of a cocoon and realized that there were all these flowers that needed pollinating.

 

Returning to the U.S., with all my feelings of urgency and inspiration, I tried to pin down exactly which flowers were meant for me to pollinate.  I’ve decided that I want to put my energy into helping Birthright participants get to Palestine.  I feel strongly that young Jews need to visit Palestine, and though I obviously have my problems with Birthright, I think it’s a pretty amazing and informative trip to go on as well.  This is why my recommendation for anyone considering a Birthright trip, from any political point of view at all, is to go on the trip.  Enjoy it, get everything you can from it, but afterwards, visit Palestine.  You won’t know that you’re in a container until you see what’s outside of it, and that it all begins with checking out the other side of that wall.

diary of a substitute #2

i showed up to the school about an hour late.  one benefit to taking a day-of call is that you’re forgiven almost any level of tardiness.  i got the call at 6am and was told to be there by 7:45.  unfortunately it was an hour and a half commute.  the thing that sucks about being late, though, is that you might not have time to prepare for the class, so you always have to make sure that you’re mentally prepared for chaos when you walk in.  i checked out the neighborhood on my walk from the bus stop.  lower-income, but not untidy.  many of the small neighborhoods had tight little rose bushes perced next to the gate.  i smelled them on the way, letting the sunshine-warmed petals touch my nose.  i wanted to savor every moment of peace, since i didn’t know what awaited me at this new school.
i walked in and was greeted warmly by the secretary.  “we’re so glad you’re here.” she said.  huh.  that was a rare greeting.  i looked around the office.  all the signs were there.  the calendar display was on the right month.  there were no students in the hallway.  a colorful display of students’ names who were heading to college was prominently displayed.  i looked at the secretery again.  she didn’t seem hurried or stressed.  fuck yes, this was a Good School.  “since i know this is your first time here, here is some information about our school.”  i looked down at the page she handed me and i was floored.  never in my career had i been handed a more helpful document.  on the top it said, “guidlines for substitutes.”  what followed was a list of exactly how subs should handle all of the typical sub problems, as well as the expectations for how each class should go.  i looked up at the secretary and i wanted to hug her tightly and never let her go.  “thanks so much, this is great!” i said instead.
“here’s the log in information for the computer.” she said as she handed me another piece of paper.  i noted that the log in was “sub2013″.  wow, i thought, they have their own sub login.  i wouldn’t even have to hassle another teacher for theirs.  what was this?  some kind of sub paradise?
i walked into the room.  it was neat and pleasant.  on a table were two piles of papers.  one pile for my 2nd and 5th periods, and one pile for my 3rd and 4th periods.  i looked them over, as well as the lesson plan sheet that was left for me, and neatly wrote instructions on the board, as well as my name “Senora Rachel.”  it was an a.p. spanish class and i was eager to practice my spanish skills with the kids.  when i got the call, my agency rep wanted to confirm that i could teach spanish.  of course, i knew that in fact, i didn’t need to know anything to sub for this class, but i was prepared to speek spanish as much as possible.
the first student entered my classroom right after the bell.  “can i come in?” he asked.  this is an important moment for a sub, when they greet their first student.  they must immediately assess the entire school culture based on one students’ body language and disposition.  this student seemed immediately deferential, pleasant, awake, and polite.  so i opted for the “please help me know the rules” approach.
“how do you usually enter the classroom?” i asked.
“usually we line up and shake hands.”
“great!  then let’s do that.”  i said cheerfully.
this approach can be dangerous in the wrong situation.  with engaged, pleasant students, this approach relaxes them, makes them realize that you’re not going to be mean, that you’re a human and thus makes them inclined to be helpful and considerate, and find you funny and interesting.  with irritable, angry, aggressive students, this approach relaxes them, makes them realize that you’re not going to be mean, that you’re a human and thus makes them inclined to be manipulating, confrontational, and bullying.  if i have any doubt at all about my ability to manage a class, i will never ask a student what the normal expectations are.  i decide on a policy at the beginning and i stick with it with an iron fist.  i show an unwavering, dictatorial attitude to even the slightest infractions.  if that seems to work, then i gradually loosen the reigns.  if the angry, aggressive students have any indication that you are trying to be nice, they will use it against you to break you down.  it’s important to show that you have no interest in their opinions whatsoever.  this has taken months of trial and error to figure out.
but on these pleasant, rare occasions where i get to be with students that seem genuinely excited to learn, i can show myself a bit more, and all of us can let our guards down.  as i stood at the door and shook hands with students as they came in they each smiled a healthy grin at me and said “hello” and “how are you today?” as they entered.  beautiful.
the bell rang and i went up to the front of the class.  i straightened my spine and prepared my confident, happy, projecting sub voice.  i smiled and began.  “hola todos.  obviamente no soy su profesora normal.  soy una substituta.  se puede llamarme senora rachel o rachel si prefieres…” as i talked the students lit up.  they looked around at each other in surprise.  one student whispered to another, “damn she speaks spanish!”  i felt proud, but as the excitement grew, so did the volume.  they were all chattering with each other now.
“bueno.  necesito silencio en CINCO, quatro, tres..” by the time i said “tres” they were all silent, looking at me with the utmost seriousness and guilt.  oh come on, this was too easy.

shows shows shows!

many upcoming dates my friends…

this friday april 19th @ 50 mason social house – lark

april 21st @ cafe van kleef – antioquia

may 11th @ awaken cafe – snow angel

june 4th @ the hotel utah – snow angel and lark

june 8th @ the catalyst – snow angel and lark