touring and music. ohai.

Lately I’ve been thinking about a third I Speak Tree album. I know that the name “I Speak Tree” is pretty cool cause it doesn’t imply that I’m a wizard rock band or a Muggle band, but instead I can go back and forth between both and writing songs about myself or nerdy things (not that myself =/= nerdy). 

I’m not really sure what a new album would be called, but I was also thinking about releasing it under a different name. This is mostly because I don’t really like “I Speak Tree” and I have a hard time explaining it to anyone who asks “why?” I don’t really write environmental songs, I’m just a treehugger who writes nerdy songs. So there’s kind of a disconnect there. Unless I go all out and write a nature themed CD, it seems like kind of an odd band name. 

However, naming my band/musical adventure “Tianna Mignogna” makes me giggle. For one, people have trouble pronouncing both my first and last names, and also I think my last name is pretty unattractive no matter how you pronounce it. Grace suggested I make a stage name for myself but I feel like the small amount of people who listen to my music would be turned off or confused by that. I just ain’t sure. Thoughts?

Also, I definitely have enough songs for another CD. I could squish them all together and call it a CD, but that seems kind of lame as opposed to a concept album which I’ve never done (besides “Fangz 2 Raven”). I really want to try to do that. I was thinking a Marauders era CD, but then I have so many Muggle songs that I already have and that will inevitably get written in the future. So maybe I can just keep my Muggle and wizard rock music separate, on separate CDs. This probably seems really obvious to most musicians, but, well… I’m not most musicians. I’m just a teenage girl who likes to whine via her guitar. 

I’ve also come to a refreshing realization that it really doesn’t bother me whether people are psyched about my upcoming CDs or not, as long as I’m excited for them and I have fun making them. Otherwise, there’s no point in them existing, right? I’m really excited to now have the ability to record music on my own, with the mastering of the fabulous Steph Anderson.

Maybe I’ll record more music this summer for a new CD and then finish it up over Thanksgiving break or winter break or sometime in the future. Either way, you can be sure to hear some more stuff from me!

where are my keys?

babe, this is for you,
the one who would tie my shoes
if i asked her to.

while i bend over
lacing and relacing new,
staring into you.

and you saw right through,
dark eyes lingering on me,
pretending to lie.


i imagine us
50 years in the future.
rainbows, butterflies.

no stink bugs, ever
only vegan krispy kreme.
we'd be out fighting

misogynistic
criminals, wearing pleather
restrain me, faux fur.

real life rolls its eyes -
it just won't end up like that,
too good to be true.

i've eavesdropped downstairs
too many times to count, now.
sister and cousin,

"we're meant to be, guys,
we both like heavy metal."
...if that's all it takes...

i'm used to failure,
used to long, tearful phone calls,
screaming, broken mugs,

it's not that i don't
expect much, just that you know
how to act, just how.

i'm not worried.

we'll be lying there.
you'll brush your fingers
through my very core.

and i'll thaw out, and remember
maybe there's not greener grass up north.
it's probably the same shade, only icy.
but it's okay,
i'm happy here with you,
floating over both types of grass,
with a lack of structure,
form,
or rhythm,
and i do not care at all.

of missing on fridays

on mondays, you complain.
on wednesdays, you gossip.
on fridays, you eat.

but what about
when i see your eyes,
shining through the toaster oven?

is it a good time to tell you
"you are missed",
when i just burnt my bagel
in that same
translucent toaster?

"do you want toast?"
"mom, make it look like it did
last easter."
when it was light and yellow,
the butter tossing its hair
down flights of steps
where the split ends
reached my split toenails.

i guess i could reach you,
if i really tried.
pick up the phone,
spotlight your locks.

instead i'll munch
on two dark brown circles,
wishing i was really eating,
and not just missing.

what are you?

if you don't call me when i'm away,
                                                             what are you?
if you don't know what i've done this whole year,
                                                                     what are you?
if i have to tell a story that happened at the beginning of freshman year,
                                                                              what are you?
because you're not my friend.
friends fill each other in on what's happening,
when, why, who, and how.
maybe i'm a friendship idealist,
but i don't want to be meticulously placed into your schedule,
i want priority dibs.

why have i lived 18 years
yet haven't found but one person at a time
who puts in the time to trust me,
let me trust them,
talk to me,
let me talk to them,
love me,
let me love them,
and then walks away without a glance back?

we're not old yet,
we're supposed to be wrecking shit.
throwing rocks at windows
and building treehouses.

but this is real life, and not a fairy tale.
and like that guy told me several years ago,
i should get my head out of a book.

dust

sometimes i miss
your textified blush,
the way you held
my hand without
ever
really
touching it.

other days, i'm less forgiving.
i clean
things that have
to do
with you,
lessen my load
and wipe up the dust.

if you're still
having fun
i wish you hell
and if you're tired
or sick,
i've got a loaf of bread
that might do you well.

you make me use
words
i'd never think of saying
not even typing,
so i won't,
i'll suck them in.
and my belly will grow,
my aches will show,
but i'll remember
the dust you let fall on me.

tuesday

sometimes i look at your art and i want to vomit.
sometimes i count the days till school will end.
sometimes i walk in the free store and walk out without a sorting hat.
sometimes i look at your face and i wonder why we're not at the beach.
like in the shoebox project
only there was disaster there,
so maybe we'll head to the woods.

pennsylvania

i live in a state
that forbids me
from saying "I DO"
to
the one who i miss
before they leave the room.
the one who, if i confessed their PREFERRED pronouns,
would make you do a double take.

"the hell is a preferred pronoun?" you ask.
well, babe, try googling PRISM.
is it an acronym? no.
does it have meaning? yes.
does it want jackasses like you
parading through the room,
"saying 'SCREW the world,
because it's better than feeling something'"?
no.

cuz i can assure you
we're not all tibby rollins.

for me,
every day is a PRIDE PARADE,
a tour of love, a song of intimacy.
what you do behind closed doors...
well, i'd GAG if i knew,
too.

so flush your prejudice
down with your sorry goldfish,
package your HATE up in styrofoam.
i'll always be here,
regardless of your bigoted,
two-faced,
furrow-browed,
spineless,
grinch-like,
lie-spitting,
soul-splitting,
self.

you're probably one of those assholes who leaves TIME on the microwave.
and i'll never let you close to my GIRL.