it's not just songs

there's something charming about the way
you talk to me.
through drugged brain cells and sleepy fingers,
your words don't skip a beat,
they keep in time with my heart.
all these months later,
again,
you're not something i'll give up
easily.

i don't know if it's possible to write
an appreciative poem
without it being labeled love.
but i do appreciate you, in the highest sense.
you saw me when i was chameleonized,
as hungry as the exotic hotel carpet,
threatening to swallow me whole.

you are your smooth hands,
the ones that remind me of how well you're living.
they say that's the best revenge,
but i hope that's not how it is for us.
i want it even,
a flat, smooth line,
from your house to mine,
linking us, knotted
and a glass half filled -
no, empty -
with regret.

when i think of justice

when i think of justice, her face shines through the clouds:
clear, opaque, grinning.
the sky loses pixellation,
the sun sheds its seasonal fur.

she is so heart stoppingly handsome i feel tears
wriggling from my ankles
all the way up my shins,
meeting with their wet tear friends
to form one gigantic waterfall
that will punch the back of my eyelids until the waters have spilled over,
a victory explosion.

it's not, "how did i score someone like her?"
but-but-
how did my decisions (poor and healthy)
lead me to demanding her arms,
knowing they're shared property?
did the fork stabbing me left or right know
she'd be waiting?

i will plant my lips upon hers
in any country, any town, any street
the amount of fucks we give will be equal
to the number of bricks beneath our feet
(times zero)

my most unattainable dream.

nevertheless, it's this image i will push to the forefront

of my purple head, my woozy brain, my tired mind,

and shove the silence of ignored messages,

(love the sinner, hate the sin)

the pain, the boycotts

to the wayback

where they belong

pixellated, but not in the sky,

maybe in the alleyway

with the trash can

where oscar can take care of them.

This is several days old but I'm posting it anyway. (tour blog!)

We’re either somewhere in Ohio or West Virginia. I’m sleeeeepy. It’s 1:58 pm and we have a show at 6. It’s in the Pocahontas County Opera House in Marlinton, West Virginia. Weird. I’m not expecting anyone to be there or to make any money. But I guess I didn’t expect that yesterday either, and there were 20 people and I made $8. Woooo.

We left Thunder Road this morning with Steph and Justin in Steph’s car since she won’t be at the show tomorrow. Matt, Lauren, Grace, and I stopped at Hibachi a little bit ago and I got some rice noodles with tofu. And soy sauce. Yummmmm. I feel a pee storm coming on though cause I had like 4 cups of water.  It was really really good though. I’m glad we didn’t have to have our food cooked in front of us. The only time that happened all my friends ordered meat and I had to watch it get cooked. It was disgusting.

Anyway, it’s WEIRD how happy I am on tour. I’m scared that this feeling will disappear once it’s over. I’m with people that understand me and don’t judge me for talking a certain way or doing anything silly. It doesn’t matter that I’m only 18 and the youngest of my tour mates is 24. We all fit and laugh together and coexist and that’s all that it really takes to make me happy. Sure, there’ve been a couple instances of disappointment, like when friends told me they’d come to certain concerts and then didn’t show. However, that’s infinitesimal compared to the overall glee that touring has given me.

I bought a shit ton of food yesterday in Indianapolis. Katie and I went to Walgreen’s and I got tortilla chips, salsa, strawberry fig newtons, applesauce, spoons, and lemonade. Probably too much for tour, but whateva. We’ll be in Pittsburgh tomorrow. I’m pretty excited to see Bobby, Erika, Caity, and Lisa. Also, apparently my dad’s going to be there. So we’ll see how that goes. We’re playing under the pavilion in Schenley Plaza, so that’s super awesome because there hasn’t been a show there since 2009. They’ve moved them across the street right in front of the library, which is kinda lame cause it’s just a sidewalk.

We’re staying in a Super 8 tonight. I’m pretty excited for wifi. The place we’re playing at apparently has no cell phone service for 30 miles in any direction. KEWLLLL. So I’m expecting no wifi too. Times are hard. LOLZ.

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.