Air Mail. (waving from just above Des Moines) (Patreon)

My loves.

Just some thoughts from the air. I'm just above Des Moines.

I have news on the pop-up post/idea/vote, but give me a second. There's a lot. I'm still reading the comments coming in over there.

I’m on the flight from NYC to Denver (Dresden Dolls Denver show 1 of 3, all sold out, is tomorrow). 

Got that rocket-shock-feeling. 

Did that all really happen? Did March and April 2020 happen? It still seems absurd. Planes are dangerous for thinking.

It's easier to see from up here. How broken the pieces of my life became without my permission, and how twisted-ly resilient I have become as a result of winding up on the underside of a monster truck that didn’t even really see me down there. Crushed. But alive! What a miracle, really. 

I’m back in the love-struck phase of being thrilled and utterly grateful that it didn’t kill me, and I’m not really saying that glibly. I think it mighta taken other people out. I made it! I made it out of there! I made it out of there alive! I didn’t give up when the bomb was thrown across the door of the building, I squinted and clamped a bandana over my mouth and managed to find an exit, while beams collapsed around me from all sides. I’m astounded at me! I’m impressed with me! I’m fucking proud of me.

My god. That was … epic. Did it really happen? Can I peek yet? Is it over? I doubt it. But at this point, I understand that. I’m probably not leaving the arena anytime soon. The slithering disco-dance around the slings and arrows of life will be relentless, endless. I’m getting to be such a good dancer. In fact, I love this awful dance. I love getting good at it. I love to dance.

Also, I love a good dance partner. I’ve found a handful of good dance partners in the last few months who have reminded my sodden, trashed heart to fire up again. Dragged me onto the floor. Held me, swayed with me, turned up the music. My feet remember to move to the beat of life again, after years in concrete. My heart is thawing, my heart is filling. The music is playing again.

There are so many piles of undone shit, it’s almost laughable. And yet my ability to focus on the joy of here and now is at an all-time high, and I have the Band to thank for a lot of that. Playing with Brian again has been a not-always-pleasant and shocking reminder of who I used to be and what I used to be capable of. I sit at the piano with that man across from me and it’s almost like stepping into a time machine, back to a less fearful, less fragile, less traumatized version of myself. She had seen horror, that girl, but not the horrors that I saw in New Zealand. She was unafraid to write, to speak. She knew things I didn’t know. I listen to certain lyrics from certain Dresden Dolls songs and sometimes feel like I had more balls at 26 than I do now.

I have over a thousand unanswered emails, a dozen or more unfinished art and video projects, boxes from New Zealand still unopened and unfilled, and yet I am able to cast all of that off with more abandon than ever to lie on the ground in the spring sun, listening to my friends singing in the kitchen, holding a hand in mine, cuddling my loves, cuddling my child, waking from a long sleep, a long nightmare, feeling the weight lift off me like a morning fog breaks fast off a cold night lake. It’s fast, it’s slow, it’s everything.

I got Covid right after the shows on April 28 (Poughkeepsie) and April 29th (Boston), and everything went into a frozen state.

There was a pile of unopened birthday cards…and Michael brought up a pile of letters that have arrived in the office over the past few months.

There are dozens, hundreds, thousands of missives that I cannot respond to.

I cannot possibly answer every Patreon message and comment, every Facebook message, every Twitter question or message, every Instagram comment or message, every handwritten letter that shows up in our mailbox in New York.

Sometimes I cannot bear that all of this stuff goes unanswered.

But sometimes I just have to let it go, and generalize.

And sometimes, I just have to zero in and get specific, even though I know that chance is against me.

So if you’re Joelle, and you sent that gorgeous hand-knitted scarf in the shape of labyrinth, and wrote me that beautiful long letter, I wanted to say thank you, and I love you, and I am so glad you’re making art again. I am going to wear the red scarf when it gets cold again.

And if you’re Gwenavier, the seventh grader from Texas, who wrote to me as part of a school assignment, I wanted to tell you thank you, and I love you, and I am so glad that the music helps you feel less crazy.

And if you’re Nate Daniel, who wrote me a long letter on many pages of notebook paper…I must be honest and say I could only read 90% of it because of your handwriting, but I wanted to tell you that I am proud of you for staying alive, and I love you, too.

And if you’re Kaleigh, who mailed me the iron heart that you etched just for me and did at your community Iron Pour, I wanted to tell you that I read your letter and I am so touched by the gift, and I have put your heart by the piano where both Ash and I practice.

And if you are one of the many, many, many people who wrote on this birthday card for me, and I’m not even sure who organized it because I can’t remember who handed it to me (Michael? Krys Fox??)…I just wanted to say…I read what you all wrote, and I love you all so fucking much.

I really love you all so much. I felt such joy reading all these notes.

I am going to be behind for a long, long time. Maybe forever. I have redefined "behind".

I still have so many of your things to burn.

Oh, no, I haven’t forgotten.

We will get there. The burn is coming.

Burning man?

No.

Burning aManDa?

Burning All The Things! It’s burn season!

Let us burn.

I'm going to do a practice burn in June.

I’ll see a ton of you tomorrow in Denver.

I am still prioritizing rehearsal and catching up with long lost family before putting patron gatherings together, but my god, please self-organize. I would love it so much, and maybe I can come. If I have the energy...I can try.

I’m keeping an eye on the comments for the rest of the flight. 

Say hi.

xx

AFP

———THE STUFF I PASTE AT THE END OF THE POST———

1. if you are a patron and new to my work, don’t forget your patronage allows you access to ALL of my patreon releases to date. HERE is the link to download my latest big solo record, “There Will Be No Intermission”, and HERE is a link to download the PDF of the art/essay book that goes with it.

2. if you’re a patron reading this post via an email notification, please click through to comment on this post. at the very least, if you’ve read it, indicate that by using the heart symbol. that's always nice for me to see, so i know who's reading.

3. see All the Things (over 200 of them) i've made so far on patreon:

http://amandapalmer.net/things

4. JOIN THE SHADOWBOX COMMUNITY FORUM, find your people, and discuss everything: https://forum.theshadowbox.net/

5. are you new to my music and TOTALLY OVERWHELMED? TAKE A WALK THROUGH AMANDALANDA….we made a basic list of my greatest hits n stuff (at least up until a few years ago, this desperately needs updating) on this lovely page: http://amandalanda.amandapalmer.net/

6. general AFP/patreon-related questions? ask away, someone will answer: patronhelp@amandapalmer.net

2023 Tour Dates:

***THE DRESDEN DOLLS***

May 19th, 20th, & 21st - Denver, CO - Ophelia's Electric Soapbox *SOLD OUT*

May 26th, 27th, & 28th - Santa Fe, NM - Meow Wolf *SOLD OUT*

June 16th, 17th, & 18th - Orlando, FL - The Social *SOLD OUT*

June 23rd, 24th, & 25th - New Orleans, LA - Toulouse Theatre *SOLD OUT*

All tickets at: https://amandapalmer.net/events/