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Ani Difranco's Journal [entries|friends|calendar]
Ani Difranco

[ website | Not A Pretty Girl ]
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OOC [26 Jan 2003|11:15pm]
[i suppose it's more than obvious that i don't update this anymore, and that i am no longer mbp's' ani difranco. so i thought i would say goodbye and farewell and thanks for having me while you did. i have removed all friends from my list, so if you haven't yet done so, go ahead and remove me.

thanks, and best wishes.]
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[19 Jul 2002|05:13pm]
in a drunken blur one night we took the computer out back and relived a scene from the genius movie, office space. it felt good to beat my computer senseless. these machines have single-handedly contributed to the laziness of cultures around the world. granted, my music would be much harder to lay down without them, but for that solitary moment it felt good to unleash all of the frustration and blame on this poor innocent inanimant object of wasted days and wasted brains.

but then i found myself in a pickle the following morning when the coffee had soaked up the liquor and the weed had soaked up the headache. i found myself without the means of communication and work that i had always used. i found myself without my lazy tool. and this, my friends, is why i've been missing in action for some time now.

but i'm back. i will bore you with simple thoughts put into complicated structures, or maybe i'll make you think. or maybe you'll be indifferent to it all and just shrug at it and say, "it's cool, man." anyway it goes, i'll be here to keep on going until i run out of things to say.
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[09 Jun 2002|03:45pm]
without depth and without story.

simple devotion to an amazing man.

happy birthday, mr. depp.
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[24 May 2002|09:38pm]
it's under good authority that the man and his men have decided to warn us all for our own good (so they can feel powerful and important) that we're a target. america painted with one big red bullseye. but where? unknown. when? uncertain. why? an absolute mystery, apparently. because america the beautiful, big brother, extreme protector has no enemies. no hard feelings.
so the man and his men sent out a little message to us little people in our happy little homes that we're not safe. not okay. that the big bad wolf will come soon to huff and puff and blow our house up.
and there's nothing you.. there's nothing i.. there's nothing we.. can do.
because the man and his men want us to know that they have it under control.
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[22 May 2002|12:21pm]
i bought a ticket to your plane of thought. but the ride had too much turbulance. your mind had too much fog.

when we landed, i sprawled out on the grass and revelled in my own grounded existance.

there's too much complication in the air. with your head in the clouds.

next time i'll stick to the feeling of road under wheels. each mile down the road another extension of what it feels to really live.
1 comment|comment on this

[15 May 2002|03:49pm]
every second into minutes into hours into days. each date each place each stage each face. the thrill of the insanity. lost in the moment. treasure it forever. one day it will be gone.

i have been thinking about my mortality more and more. i picked up a paper the other day and read a story about a girl i went to highschool with who went off the deep end into the deep sea of depression that eventually drowns you in your own consciousness.

and it made me question everything. every word i say. every move i make. every thing in my day leads to that day when my days will end.

it puts a new spin on things. a new thought always on the backburner. but it also renews a sense of life in a way. because it's in the understanding of loss of life that you can embrace the gift of life.
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[07 May 2002|08:00am]
i apologize for never comin round. for letting you down. but you see, i move gracefully from town to town, strumming the strings of a hundred aching hearts. breaking. waiting.

enough of that sorry rhyme.

i wish i could be around more. but i play almost every night and now the mini-tour is over. and we're getting ready to put out my first ever full-length documentary. it's odd how little ol' me is going to be on all of your tv screens. i was followed around for countless days and nights by cameras whose sole intention was to capture the 'essence of ani' whatever that may be. i'm just a girl doing her job, but somehow it's been asked that i bring my face to your screen, so your wish is my command. it will be in stores june 11th.

and then it's back out on the mean road, but this time overseas where i can show off my ability to speak broken in beautiful languages.

but now it's time for my little legs to climb into my snug little bed. i bid you all goodnight. or goodmorning. you have it your way.
1 comment|comment on this

[29 Apr 2002|04:06pm]
someone said to me today that people might be intimidated about talking to me, when i inquired about why only 2 people have spoken to me since i arrived.

i just get up on a stage. i play my guitar like all the rest. i feel and i just happen to know how to put the right words with the right rhymes and it comes out into one beautiful mess.

it's wonderful to be loved. respected. admired.

but if all those things should feel so wonderful, why is it so dreadfully lonely?
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[29 Apr 2002|08:47am]
an update eludes me at the moment. i'm on instant messenger though. communication is welcome.
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[26 Apr 2002|08:24am]
it came to my attention in the form of a pretty little bird that around here the only way to really feel part of the whole picture is to download a special little program that will allow you to connect, chat, share and love. so i did and i'm here with no one to speak to. no one to share with. no one to reach out and touch.

so come find me. open yourself. and maybe i'll do the same. type in absolutely ani and say hello.
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[25 Apr 2002|01:11pm]
you wouldn't think it would get lonely on the road, but it does. day in and day out you see all new faces to accompany all the new places you see and live. nothing in the life of a travelling musician remains constant.

but i keep on going. the love of my hands on the strings is what keeps me going. the love of sound travelling through distance at speeds no one can match. music is what keeps me on the road. it's what reminds me to step in and out of the van in each new city on each new day. i wouldn't trade this life for any other.

but it sure does get lonely out here.
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[24 Apr 2002|02:50pm]
so much praise it seems. as though i won some lifetime achievement award because my words occasionally flow as though they were two rivers meeting at a common place. and flowing together over some unforseen mountain. becoming one as a waterfall. and drifting into an endless cesspool of peace.

i assure you that just because i stand on a stage every night and play to a thousand faces each with their own story that i yearn to learn, that i am no different. no better. no more wonderful. amazing. and beautiful. i'm just one woman. one story. one life. and one guitar.
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[24 Apr 2002|08:31am]
i just paid for my account. because choosing icons was far too difficult.

it was like saying, "this one face is me, who i am, and who i'll be." when really we're all many faces. many places. many names. moods strike. and change. that's to be human. putting on different faces for different people and different times. to blend in, stick out, call out, "hey look! it's just me."

i don't even know where i was going, what tune i was singing, what chord i was playing, or what town i'm in. but i'm here. wherever that is.
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[23 Apr 2002|09:17pm]
it's late. i'm tired. my fingers are sore from so many chords and broken strings. but i continue on. my fingers are my lifeline. and it looks like they'll continue to be so here.

hi, my name is ani, and i'm a folk singer.

as though this were AA, NA, or some other support group for the masses who need hands to hold. fingers to support them.

fingers... are their lifelines. like mine.
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