Yesterday...

Yesterday I walked to the beach. I live a couple blocks away, not far.
I love the ocean. It's actually gone a ways in helping me these days,
trying to get over certain things...

In the past couple of years I have
lost 6 people that I loved, or cared for. My ex, my parents, my old friend
Mike, and also an old lady and an old man that I came to love.

I don't mind the old folks passing, Mr. W was very old and anxious to go.
M was also really old, and isn't suffering from poor health anymore.
Weird how things seem to happen in clusters like that. Only supports a
private theory of mine, of HOW shit happens. We know that shit happens,
but how or when, might be the question.
Basically I would say to you, if you asked me when shit was going to happen
to you, I would ask when the last time it was that you had a REALLY bad thing
happen to you. Something devastating. Pending the answer, I would be able
to tell you.
LOL you know who's in line for some really bad shit? Paris Hilton. Let's see...
who else? Hmm...a LOT of people are in line for some bad stuff, if you base it
upon the principle of nothing staying the same. If nothing stays the same forever,
and things have been uneventful for you for a long time, Watch Out!
If Paris Hilton has secretly had something really bad happen ( the sex tape only helped her),
then maybe she's NOT in line. But with what I know about her, she really has it
all, loving parents that aren't divorced, a sweet sister, money, fame, etc. Uh Oh.
Signs point to something huge, something horrible.

And if YOU have mentally reviewed your life and discovered that nothing ever
really devastating has happened to you, and that you seem to be born under a
lucky star, Watch Out man!!! You are in for it! Something major, like the death of
one's child or something. Something really horrible.
Because it goes back to the monkey theory, really. Life DOES throw shit at you,
at some time or another. And if life hasn't thrown shit at you in awhile, watch out...
it's been saving up a huge pile, bigger than usual, just for you!!!

Note On The Alley...

Our alley was funny because it was so lurid, and you never knew what you'd see.
One time when we tried to pull into our parking spot, we found a buncha homicide detectives
hovering around us and in our spot. Yellow tape, the works. Someone had died RIGHT THERE.
If you went driving up the alley a little further, guys would approach you from both sides
of your car, and ask " Yo Whatchoo want?" And what they were asking was " Weed or crack?"
And it was funny because it happened to us every single time we would try to leave that way.

There were unfunny aspects of the neighborhood, as you already know.
The saddest thing I've ever witnessed happened when
we were coming home from a party, late one night. One the corner of the boulevard where we'd
turn into the alley, there was a tiny boy. I don't really want to remember this...

There was a tiny boy, 2 or 3. That small. And he had a little tiny suitcase or lunchbox with him
that he was holding onto. he was just standing there, and looked extra tiny being on the
boulevard like that, in the middle of the night.
Detectives were swarming all around him.
As we pulled into our spot, my eyes were full of tears. I was trying not to cry, but that was
heartbreaking. I began crying.
S said gently, " You know he's better off now, right? Then with whoever just dropped him off like that.
He'll go into a foster home, he's small enough that maybe someone will adopt him."
He was right, and I knew that. But it was still sad, and probably the saddest thing that I have
ever seen.
Yep, stories from the Hood.

Behind The Crackhouse Part 2...

So I peer out the tiny window in the bedroom, and " Uh Oh."
I can't remember if I go back to the phone and tell N what I see, I
think I did, because at that point I wanted someone to know what was
happening. But it was all happening very quickly.
There were 2 or 3 guys, leaning and standing around a big white truck.
I could hardly see, because of that tiny window. Actually, I think all I saw
were feet, and the truck. It may have been a van. White. I saw crossed arms in
a T-shirt. The legs were wearing jeans and the feet, converse sneakers. The feet that I could see.

I went back to the phone and tell N what I saw. I go to the front door again,
I think I am in disbelief over what might be happening. I see/hear that he's definitely going
to come in, and he's working on it. It really IS happening. This IS happening!
I go into the bedroom and go under the bed and pull out the pump action shotgun, open
it to make sure there is a shell in there, and cross to the front door. I have the barrel
pointed straight up in the air. I stand in the entrance of the front door, with the gun, and I very carefully pump the gun to chamber the shell. Chk-Chk...( I wanted him to hear that)
Then I cross to the bedroom again, and look, and wow, they are gone!
Gone! That fast!
So I put the gun away, and go back to the phone. N is crying. She's freaking out. I tell
her that they are gone, and she is relieved, still crying, says " I wanted to call 911
but I didn't want to hang up on you, I don't have call waiting, and I didn't want to let you
go!"
You know, this whole incident took seconds. Seems slow-mo to me, and yet the reality
is that it took mere seconds.
The scariest part for ME was when I kept trying confront the guy, and he acted like I wasn't
there, and continued to do whatever he was doing to the gate.
Speaking of which, I was afraid to go outside and check it out. After assuring N that everything
was ok, we said goodbye and I called S. I was really shaking hard at that point. During the
incident itself, I was cool as a refridgerated cucumber.
It was in the retelling that I fully grasped what had actually happened, and THAT was when
I got scared and upset.
S was incredulous, and yet he DID wind up believing that something had happened. For when he came home, he/we saw that the outside of the gate, the wood had indeed been tampered
with.That was when I got interrogated. lol
Was it a long bar? A pipe? Forked? How many guys? A truck? Van?

I always figured that it had been a case of the wrong house, that we had been mistaken for
the crackdealer's house. I'm not sure if I made that part clear : The guy with the shy manner
and the cute, friendly Rotweilers was in fact a crack dealer.
But then something nagged at me about that theory. Theoretically, if you were going to rob a crack dealer's house, desperate or not, it'd be a suicide mission if you
set out unarmed. Trying to rob a crack dealer. Even if it's several idiots, even
THEY would know that the dealer would be armed. So wouldn't they show up armed?
And if so, why would they be so scared of my shotgun, if THEY were armed?
In other words, they meant to be there, this wasn't a mistake.

They probably saw me walk by out front everyday, coming home from the bus stop.
There were always about 10-20 people outfront, with cars. It was just like one of those
rap videos, including the music, except there weren't any scantily clad bimbos doing booty
shakin. '
Everyday I would walk by and give a " What's up?" nod to the neighbor ( the crack dealer),
and he would return the nod. It was cool because nobody said anything disrespectful to me,
ever. All the times I walked home. I even kinda wondered about this, because I could go
anywhere else, and get hooted and hollered at just for walking down the street, so it didn't
make sense that I could walk in front of 20 guys of all ethnicities imaginable and NOT hear SOMETHING. I was 20, and somewhat attractive, after all.

" They thought you were crazy" S said, when I asked about it. " They figured we had to be crazy, to live where we did, they figured YOU had to be crazy. People everywhere leave crazy people alone."
I thinkS was specifically talking about the Rotweilers, and how I would always bring his
dogs back and laugh talk about how cute they really were. Because it had become a regular
occurrence.
I dunno, the neighbors were nice. Except my laundry once got stolen hanging on a line
in the yard. But that could've been another set of neighbors.

Behind The Crackhouse...

When I moved in with my ex (when we were 21),
we lived behind a crackhouse. It was the converted garage
of the crackhouse. What WOULD have been the garage of
the crackhouse. Separated by a thigh high fence. So they could see
us, and we could see them.
They had Rotweilers that were constantly jumping the fence and coming
over to our little patch of yard. Whenever that would happen, the guy
would come over and shyly ask for his dogs. We had a
nice conversation about the dogs, because they were actually very friendly and
sweet in temperament.
Now, the fact that this guy was so nice and shy, don't let that fool you.
We once had heard noises in the middle of the night before, a man screaming:
" AAAAAAHHHH!!! Somebody call the police! HELP!!!"
And then a :
" SHUT UP Mutherfucker!!" And then some flesh-thumping noises.
I sleepily asked S, " Should we call the police?"
And S answered " No, he's got what's comin' to him"
I rolled over and went back to sleep.

Was I scared of the neighbor guy? Nah. Knowing he had done that, and now
I was talking to him about his dogs? Nah. His beef wasn't with me, he didn't
have a problem with us.
You know, I actually believe that had I been back there in our little cottage,
and something happened, and I screamed out the window " Help me someone!"
And they were outside in the backyard smoking a blunt like they sometimes
did, or hanging around their cars out in front, I bet they would have saved me.
If they heard me.
But we also had guns. So did they. We knew they had guns, and THEY knew that WE
had guns.
But this was necessary. AND, if we hadn't had a gun, who knows WHAT would've
happened, the " Day That I Singlehandedly Fought Off a Home Invasion." lol.

Actually, I don't know that this is all that dramatic, or would be a big deal to
anyone else hearing this. I know that it was a big deal to myself, and my friend N,
who was on the phone with me at the time. I was working nights at a place called
Hybritech, a lab that made birth control tests, etc. So I was home in the middle
of the day, by myself, laughing and talking with a friend on the phone.
Suddenly I hear a noise, something to do with our front gate...

Now, surrounding our house is a tall brick wall,the fence directly into the
neighbors yard is short, but we are blocked everywhere else by tall fences,
and brick walls. The only way in is through our equally tall gate. Probably
about 6 feet tall. So I hear some sort of scary noise, scary because my mind
registers it as a splintering wood sound. It's not very loud though, so I'm
just not sure what is going on. This all takes 2 seconds, and I say to N on the
phone " Someone's outside, I need to see who it is."

Looking back, I'm glad that I was so cautious.
Because what I did was, I stepped just outside the front door, which is
a few feet from the gate. The gate is in the alley. So our house is actually
wedged between an alley, and a crackhouse. Lol...and on the side of THAT, is a bar/poolhall.
So I step just outside the front door, facing the gate, and I see a tall black guy,
the reason I know he's tall is because the gate is high, and I can actually kinda
see his face.
We lived in a mostly black neighborhood. People of all colors lived in our "hood".
That was the way I grew up, so I didn't have a problem with it.Was used to it.
WE were the minority, in fact.
Anyway, I mention it because when I say that everyone was black, I now don't
have to describe each and every person as being black. So everyone was black, except for
us. And it doesn't matter, because it could've also been white Peckerwood tweekers, too.
In another neighborhood, it WOULD be.
Just incidental, basically. We happened to be the minority in our neighborhood.

So there is a guy at the gate, and he's tall enough that I kinda see the top of his head, and
his face. He's doing something to my gate, and he has something in his hand. I think it's one
of those metal bar things, a prying doohicky. A forked thing on one end. Curved.
It's a little confusing at this point, because I couldn't really see the metal thing clearly,
but I could see his face. THAT was the scary part...A guy at the gate, I can't really see, what
IS he doing?

I ask him.
" What are you doing?" Actually, I think I said " Hey! what are you doing?" And I tried
to sound kinda tough, not scared.
He wouldn't look at me. This bothered me. He's standing right in front of me, on the other
side of the gate, and he won't look at me. And I'm talking to him, I know he hears me.
I repeat it, louder. " Hey! What are you doing?!" And he's cracking or splintering wood,
I can hear him doing something to my gate.
I can't recall if I said anything a third time. I think I gave up at that point, because I knew
that he definitely had to have heard me, both times. And the fact that his face didn't register
me, and he continued to mess with my gate, that bothered me.
I went back inside, to the phone, and quickly whispered " Someone's outside, I asked them
what's going on and they didn't answer. Hold on, I gotta check this out."

I go into the bedroom, and look out the window. It's the only way I can see out into the alley,
a tiny window overlooking the parking space. A very tiny window. I peer out, and UH OH.

Quatildus and Phlynx...

Phlynx is apparently a REAL word! For years, I'm
talking about maybe 20 years or so, phlynx was my private nickname
for what the next big STD is going to be when AIDS is
cured. I used it this way, when talking to my then- husband:
" You watch, a few years after AIDS is cured, a super-deadly
NEW sexually transmitted disease will come along, "PHLYNX"
or something. Because every so often, in the history of the world,
a new and deadly STD comes along. And then we figure out how to cure
THAT one. And then a couple of hundred years later, a new one comes along,
the next one. Phlynx."
A sexual money-wrench, if you will ( again with the monkey references, jeez - life IS
like a monkey.)

The term "phlynx" morphed into a different meaning, a funnier one.
My ex proclaimed "phlynx" to be the technical term for dingleberries,
or the TP that clings to your private areas when you are taking care
of your hygienic needs with toilet paper. Cling-ons, IOW ( As I always
thought of it).
So we actually used the term "phlynx" in place of dingleberries or Cling-ons, for the
last 20 years.
Just now I found out that phlynx is NOT my own word. I did NOT
invent Phlynx, dammit all.
But Quatildus, that's mine ( as far as I know). Gandangin Prangin Ilioflangin, that's mine.
Grotesquerie, Bullshittery, those are mine ( although derived from other words, obviously).
Pukifying. Queasifying ( same). " Seeing that was the most queasifying experience of my entire life."

The answer to my previous post:
The REAL word in my previous post ( if you didn't know):
Aeaeae - which means " the magic arts"
The only all vowel 6 letter word I've ever heard, and it's even more
awesome that it means "Magic".

Quatildus...

Gandangin Prangin Ilioflangin.
Quatildus. Aeaeae. Grotesquerie.
Which one is a real word? And if you DO
know, then what does it mean?
The rest I made up.

BTW...

BTW, for anyone reading me blog, Hi! And
also, I full well know that my grammar is crap.
Such as " Spewings". Or when I say things like " It
was pukifying" or " This was excessive bullshittery"
I know full well that I am taking serious liberties with the English
language. Butchering it, maybe.
I just wanted you to know, it IS intentional. But
maybe you figured that out already.

" Twas brillig and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe
All mimsy were the borogoves
And the mome raths outgrabe"

Hahahoho and heehee.

And This Chair Was Just Right...

It sucks because I wrote two really long stories last night,
and when I clicked on "publish post"something went terribly, terribly wrong.
And it deleted them! I swear I didn't do anything wrong! : (
And I haven't been able to get them back, tho' I have looked around.
One of the posts was about a chair, my Dad's chair:

As I mentioned, my Dad, my parents had ideas about things. Such as
wearing things with corporate logos on them. Nike. Vans. OP. Ditto.
Later it was Levis, etc. ( " Why should I pay THEM to advertise for THEM?
They oughtta be paying ME if I'm going to walk around with their name on my butt.")

Oooooh, I just remembered another hated belief of my parents - we
didn't get paid for good grades. We were like the only kids in L.A. rich
or poor that didn't get some sort of reward for good report cards.
The reason : " Knowledge and learning is it's own reward."
Um, great, Daddy. Thanks.
I personally think that it's because my brother J and I would've
broken the bank. We got really good grades. And yet we didn't get anything,
and our classmates would be showing off new things, or money, and bragging
about what THEY got for their piddly 2 B's! It wasn't fair!
Aw, well. I know that my parents were right, at this point in my life.

Ok, so the chair. The Chair.
One fine summer day in the late 70's ( at least I remember it as summer), my Dad decided
for no reason that he would build a chair. He was enthusiastic and happy, and had me sit on boards for sawing, and help him a little. It was a nice bonding experience. He was a pretty quiet
guy most of the time though, so he didn't really explain what kind of chair it was going to
be, or any other details.

So he worked on it for I dunno, probably a few weekends or so, so that there was
kind of a build up. We were curious, and as the Chair got closer to being finished, my Dad
got more secretive about it. After a certain point in the Chair process we hadn't been allowed to look at it, touch it, be anywhere near it.
Finally the chair was finished.
It sat in the living room, near the sliding glass doors, and even with a sheet we could tell
it was big. My Mom and J and I looked on as my Dad took the sheet off, and we
saw it, and started laughing. We didn't know what to think, it was as if my Dad had gone nuts,
if you'd only seen how tickled he seemed to be both when working on it, and when it was finished. We were puzzled, and yet we couldn't help but laugh.
Because here's the thing about the chair:

The chair was a regular chair, non-descript and ordinary
in almost every way. ALMOST.
Except it was HUGE. Not just tall, but HUGE. It reminded us of the huge
chair Lilly Tomlin sat in a skit on Laugh- in, It wasn't quite THAT big, but still. This was a straight backed chair, with arms. Not a rocking chair.
My brother and I weren't laughing at what my Mom and Dad had to say next : "Stay out of the Chair! Both of you! "
So we weren't even allowed to plant our eager juvenile behinds in the most awesome chair
we'd ever seen! We wanted to play in the chair BADLY.
And of course we DID sit in it the minute that we were allowed alone! And we discovered that
it made our legs stick out comically because the seat was too long for our legs to hang
down! And our arms had to reach up to rest on the arms. We'd had to climb up to get into it in the first place.

Fast forward about a month, and my brother J and I are snooping around, we didn't steal
from our parents or anything like that, we were just looking around in drawers, because we'd
discovered before that our parents had some neat things. Like some funny playing cards with pictures of Nixon and Carter and other presidents on them. George Carlin and Bill Cosby records.
Varous neat, funny things.
I dunno, don't most kids snoop around a little?
So we are snooping, and my brother finds an envelope with pictures in it. He looks at a couple
of the pictures and starts laughing so hard that he's practically convulsing. I of course have
to see for myself, and this is what we saw :

There is The Epic Chair, and there is my Dad, sitting in the chair. Only NOW I know what
the chair really was. A throne.
For there is my Dad in cape like garment with a jewel ( I think it belonged to my Mom, lol), sitting in the chair, in one hand a toilet plunger held aloft as a scepter, behind him was a flag with a giant can of Budweiser imprinted on it, and he appeared to be wearing a paper crown from Burger King!
Yep, it was a throne all along.
And the other pictures consisted of all my parents' friends, all in the Epic Chair with the
plunger-scepter, and the paper crown, and the royal cape.
We about peed laughing at these pictures. And when we were done, we put the pictures away like we'd never seen them. But if I recall correctly, for awhile afterwards it was kind of hard to look at our parents without wanting to laugh.

Return To Life Is Like A Monkey...

Let's see, where were we?
The 70's, L.A. ...
My parents had these friends ( I will call them W and P) that brought back
a monkey from Japan.
Now, I didn't know the monkey existed, until the day we went over
there to W and P's house. And there it was, in all it's glory.
A beautiful monkey, sitting up on a high perch in the corner of the living
room. I guess he liked sitting up high looking over all of us.
As I said, he was beautiful. Shades of shiny brown and white mingled together,
small and delicate looking, and I can't describe his face well for a reason.
I couldn't really get that good of a look at him because I was too busy running
from "poo" and shrieking in a girly way " AAAH! POO!!!"
For that was the "catch" about this monkey. He had a bad attitude, and delighted
in lobbing feces at certain people. Me being one of them.
He was beautiful to look at, sometimes he could be very sweet, but a lot of the time
he was throwing shit at people. Life is like that monkey. Sometimes nice, sometimes
beautiful, but sometimes throwing shit at you. Better duck, or try to anticipate the shit ahead of time.
p.s. Turned out the monkey was given to a habitat or something. He was better off,
although he really DID seem to enjoy throwing shit at everyone. : )

Life Is Like A Monkey...

When my brother and I were kids in the late 70's, living
in L.A, CA, it was a good time. My mom was hosting Tupperware
parties in celebs mansions, after shrewdly divining that rich people
wanted to have Tupperware parties, too.It was all the rage at that
point. Even though gas was scarce and Carter was prez and
inflation was crazy, for my family it was a good time.
I wouldn't mind writing more about that. KMET, KLOS playing on the car
stereo, cruising around LA. Laughing when we heard Joe Walsh's "Life's Been Good"
for the 1st time ( my parents loved it) on the way to Magic Mountain. Don Kirshener's
Rock Concert. Cheech and Chong, George Carlin. Steely Dan. Eagles. Fleetwood Mac.

My parents had these friends, and they came back from a trip to Japan with a
monkey. My parents were funny, quite the Bohemians. They had all kinds of ideas
about things, and now that I'm an adult I agree with them, but at the time, as a
kid, I hated a lot of it. My parents refused to buy any clothes for us that had logos
on them. Ditto and OP and Vans and all the things that we wanted, they denied us.
And we had the money, at that point. But my parents said
" If I'm going to be walking
around with someone's logo on me, advertising for them, then THEY'D better be paying ME,
not the other way around! Why should I pay someone, to advertise for THEM?!?"
Now, my Dad was right. I see that now.
But at the time, this was horrible.
( uh oh, I'm a million miles away from the monkey).

More Poseurs...

Other funny poseurs are the white suburban boys that think
they are all hard and listen to Eminem and Fitty and cruise around in their
parents SUV's looking for trouble. And talk in an exaggerrated southern
accent, which is my nice way of trying to say that they are trying to sound
"ghetto".
It's funny because if you really DID grow up in a bad place, and had a brain
in your head, you'd be trying to get away from it!
My brother and I grew up in the worst places, and it's funny how glorified those
places have become on rap videos on MTV. We never talked about it, or bragged
about it, and in fact, it's fucking traumatizing to be from places like that! I could tell some
stories that would curl Grandma's hair. I OUGHT to tell some of those stories, lol,
it's my blog. And they're damned good stories, now that I'm thinking about it.
Actually, a good story from when I got older is " The time I staved off a home invasion
robbery when we lived behind the crackhouse" LOL
I wish I could figure out how to make my paragraphs not run together. I would tell stories
then. Such as " Living behind the crackhouse" Or:
" What it was like to live in L.B.C. and have the next-door neighbor get stabbed to death for going outside when they heard a noise" Etc. It wasn't all bad, though.
But it's just funny because you'd never know that we grew up that way, although I think
I could lapse into the talk if I wanted to. The hard style of talking.

Poseurs...

Poseurs are funny, and jeez, there are so many different kinds!
I've already revealed more about myself than I meant to, the night
I came home from the club and blogged about Mike. I'd had a couple of drinks
and wrote some things. Like about Santana and being in the studio. I
kinda didn't mean to write about that.

That said, since I DID make mention of it, I will say that the music community
holds some of the funniest poseurs of all time. There are people who dress flamboyantly, carry
instruments everywhere, talk music, and yet when prompted, truly can't let go and
freely jam. Like, I know one person in particular that knows maybe 3, 4 songs on the mandolin.
Period.
And yet this person created a whole persona, reputation for being a mandolin player,
and it was a hoax.
I've seen that a lot out here in So.Cal. People who can't actually play, or sing, but they know
how to talk the talk and have cultivated the look.
But there are other poseurs too, as ye well know. For surely we all have had experience with poseurs. Or maybe even being one!

Gawd I Am Crazy ( But I amuse myself)... : D

Sometimes I really wonder where some of my more far out thoughts come from.
I'm a weirdo. Pure and simple, I'm a nut, maybe an idiot, but definitely
a different ball o' wax. Which, haha, leads me to what I was just thinking about:

I bought a candle, it's a a palm wax candle. Recently I have been experimenting
with different waxes: Soy, Palm, Beeswax.
So I was staring into my candle, my palm wax candle. It has a lovely fragrance,
" Warm Rain". I was pondering the different waxes and the idea that apparently a lot of
living things in nature secrete wax. Was thinking about where waxes come from, etc.
And then it occurred to me," Oh yeah! People secrete wax, too! Ear wax!Hmm... Maybe someone
should see if they can make an ear wax candle! Collect a bunch of their own ear wax, and
slap a wick in it and burn it! Bwahahahahaaaaa!!!"
Just thought I'd share that with you. : )
It was gross, but it was really a scientific thought:
Palm wax apparently burns faster than beeswax. How fast would ear wax burn? Would
it smell bad? Surely it would! Yuck! I'm not going to try and find out, it would take me
10 years to come up with enough ear wax, personally. heehee, unless I took up a collection.
I'm going to hurl!

More About Mike...

Built a working laser in high school, and the funny part about this is
that I heard this from a cop. " We first became aware of M.G. when we were
called to his high school, he'd apparently built a working laser." : )
This was told to me after an incident with some stolen guitars that were making their way
around the local music community. Mike and I were asked about them, and I
remember asking the detective why we were even implicated.
Keep in mind, we were innocent, and not in trouble in any way. But it was interesting because
I was hearing outsider's information about Mike, and something that I hadn't known before.
I KNEW Mike was off the charts, but he wasn't the kind of person to brag about himself.
He lived by example, and the opinions and reputation he had was based on people's direct
contact and experience with him.

Black Marigolds...

Twas Mike that introduced me to Black Marigolds.
Interesting coincidence.

Even Now
I mind the coming and talking of wise men from towers
where they had thought away their youth.
And I, listening, found not the salt of the whispers of my girl.
Murmer of confused colors as we lay near sleep;
Little wise words and little witty words,
wanton as water, honied with eagerness.

Even now
I remember that you made answer very softly,
We being one soul, your hand on my hair
the burning memory rounding your near lips
I have seen the priestesses of Rati make love at moonfall
And then in a carpeted hall with a bright gold lamp
Lie down carelessly anywhere to sleep.

R.I.P. Michael Gilley : ...(

The bad news just keeps coming for me. A friend tracked me down
at a club that I go to on Saturday nights
to tell me that someone that I used to love and know very well has died.
Mike, the most brilliant guitarist that I'd ever known. Jerry Lee Lewis was his
cousin, and Mickey Gilley, too. He taught me how to play guitar, including E.L.P's
" From the Beginning". Introduced me to Santana, we all hung out at a soundcheck together.
( there's actually a cute little story about that)I wonder who knows that Mike is dead? I can't believe it. Probably it's going to take a
little while for it to make it's way around the local Southern California music community.

" Ziggy played guitar...jammin' good with weird and Gilley! And the Spiders from Mars..."
Mike taught me a lot. I could tell sooo many great stories about him. He was the most brilliant
musician I have ever known, not just a guitarist. I have seen him pick up a cracked homemade bamboo flute
in someone's attic, and play Jethro Tull's Bourre, and play it beautifully! And the owner of the homemade flute swore that it was a broken, flawed piece of shit!
He taught me how a true professional musician was sposed to behave ( and look at music), and that it wasn't about who played faster, or better, it was about the true love of music. And to be humble, and gracious ( a true professional). You have to realize, I was a kid, in the studio for
the first time at 17, and it was the perfect time to learn these things.
Aw, Mike. :...(
I'm so sorry you lost your way. I love you, and I hope you have the peace that you apparently
weren't able to find when you were alive. You taught me and many others that came into your light, lessons
that I'm sure we all carry with us to this day. I'm not sure if I'm even ok, how does one get over
losing the equivalent of one's musical/spiritual teacher? I have only just heard this news tonight.

For Ye That Might Be Reading This...

Hi. : )
Just wanted to say for the record, I'm not the most
computer savvy person.
And when I've been writing my posts, I DO put them
in paragraph form, they have spaces, etc.
But when the post publishes, I can see that it's posted
as some sort of endless run-on sentence. No paragraphs,
spaces, nothing. It keeps doing it, too.
I'm not really sure how to correct that yet, but just wanted
you to know that I'm aware of it and working on it. For now
until I figure out how to correct it, I'm just making shorter posts.
Bye!

Correction re: Black Marigigolds

I quoted incorrectly from the poem Black Marigolds
in my previous post.

" My poor divorced lips have written excellent stanzas
of kisses, and will write no more."

I read that the poem isn't even originally called
Black Marigolds, it's called "The Chauraspanchasika"
by a poet named Bilhana, or Chauras. It's Sanskrit, and the story goes that the
poet Bilhana was imprisoned for having an affair with the kings daughter
Vidya ( this was in the 11th century). He was sentenced to death
by beheading. While in prison he wrote a bunch of verses celebrating his love.
What I am now just finding out is that he wrote different outcomes
to the poem. I only knew of the sad outcome ( death). Apparently there's a happy
version out there that I've never read.
It was E. Powys Mathers that renamed it Black Marigolds.

Black Marigolds

" On who's lips I have written excellent stanzas of kisses
and will write no more."
: (

Kung Fu the Series...

Man, why isn't anyone rerunning that show?
I LOVED that show. I remember vaguely when it was on in the
70's, but not with the kind of awareness and understanding that
I had when I happened to catch it a few years back on TBS. Or
maybe it was TNT. And quite a few years older from being a little kid
in the 70's.
Anyway, someone needs to resurrect that show. Maybe TV Land
or Nick At Night. I'm too apathetic to start a letter writing campaign, but someone ought
to do it.
Where are the Kung Fu fanatics out there? You know who you are, you have
Enter the Dragon on video, and throwing stars on the top of your dresser! Get busy!
Actually, I really liked this movie called "Circle of Iron" and I believe it
starred David Carradine and um, Christopher Lee made an appearance, and Eli
Wallach. I think it was actually the last movie Bruce Lee was working on when he died.
Anyway, I loved that movie. Granted, I'm sure others would think it was dumb, or
low-budget, or whatever. Fuck em. I loved that movie. That movie had some important messages.

.

Divorce Sucks Revisted 2...

The new songs that I discovered in my i-tunes last night, after a night
of drinking :

George Benson " Masquerade"
Heatwave " Always and Forever"
The Hues Corporation " Rock the Boat"
Billie Holliday " Good Morning Heartache"

Hmm...Let's see...I saw more than that. Was on a drunken tangent,
apparently.
WOW.
I just spotted
" I feel Love " By Donna Summer. Yep ( I'm wincing).
And yet I apparently also downloaded " Ride the lightening "
and " And justice for all" by Metallica.

But jeez, " Always and Forever", Oh Boy. And I was probably crying
when I listened to it! lol
Yep, divorce sucks, and that's another reason - you get drunk and listen to cheesy songs and
cry!

Divorce Sucks Revisited...

In my continuing quest to get over the divorce, I bought ( and drank) a bottle of pre-mixed
Long Island Iced Tea last night. You may have noticed my profile photo. Taken
immediately following my moving out. Been experimenting more with alcohol
these days than I ever have in my life.
And yet I still don't drink more than say, once a week. I just can't stomach too much booze.

That said, the reason I even mention last night's drinking excursion is because I am laughing
at the songs that I discovered in my i-tunes this morning.
*Note*
I like having my music in my i-tunes, it amuses me the way I'll have, say, Illya Kuryaki and
the Valderrama's" Abarajame" playing, it ends, and immediately following that comes James
Gang's " The Bomber." That literally just happened. The Bomber is playing right now as I type
this. Illya Kuryaki and the Valderrama, well that's just funny. No one that I know has heard of them, but
they are a Latin American Hip hop group, and they crack me up. Download "Abarajame"
and see why. It's hilarious because I find myself cranking it when they are rapping certain
words, and it's because the WAY they say things amuses me, but in fact I have NO IDEA
what they are singing! But if you were to see me turning up the volume on certain words,
you'd think I DID know.
The reason I even remember that song is because it used to play on
Latin American MTV all the time back when we briefly had it. L.A.MTV kicked ASS over
US MTV. Played a lot of Slayer, Metallica, Pantera, Korn, etc. And this was at a time before
Korn was even known in America. They played " Shoots and Ladders " all the time.
They used to play this one video all the time, and we found ourselves watching and laughing,
and it was Illya Kuriyake and the Valderrama. They had everything in their video.
There was a pretty Latina woman dancing on a balcony in a electric blue bikini, with a huge
fro, and a David Carradine Kung Fu guy walking around in the shaolin robe.
It was the David Carradine guy that got my attention first. I LOVE the old show Kung Fu.
But I digress...

So the fact that I have "Abarajame" next to James Gang's "the Bomber", that's pretty funny
to me.

But to get to my original point - The songs that I discovered in my i-tunes this morning,
after my drinking excursion of last night. Oh God.

Divorce Sucks ( I Belabor the Obvious)..

Been arguing with my ex-husband all day back and forth through email.
Actually, note - I think couples are a lot better off thanks to email, these days.
A lot of couples like us, who can't talk to each other without winding up fighting,
are able to use email as a form of constructive communication.
Most of the time my ex and I don't fight in email, but today I said some things that
I had been holding back on for awhile now. I couldn't do it anymore, couldn't hold
back, I had to spew or I'd never stop dwelling on the specific things! I was tormented
in my mind! And as bad as it was, I feel better for having said the things I did today.


Damn, divorce sucks. I never had any experience with it, other than my friend's
parents and my ex -husband's parents.
And now I know!!! Now I know how it hurts, and I feel joined to humanity in my
pain, in a way that I never did before. I found in the midst of my tears and sorrow
that a lot of people had gone through the same experience, and it was a genuinely
mind-blowing revelation for me. You see, I'd never had my heart broken before.
And it about killed me.


How do people find the courage to love again? After going through heartbreak
and utter devastation like that. Amazing. Human beings are amazing for many
reasons, but this is really the bravest thing to me. Loving again after something
like that. Being brave enough to love again.
Yep, people are amazing. And cruel and kind, and terrible and wonderful, and ugly
and beautiful. We are all these things, and more.
But when I think about how brave people are about love, I am truly impressed.


Maybe it's the loneliness, people get so lonely that they try again even if it's risky
and scary. It's still brave, in my mind. I think it was
Descartes that said " Love is the noblest frailty of the mind"
I always agreed with that sentiment.
But love is also the bravest act of the mind.

Odd - Looking Celebrities ( self -mutilation fixation)...

I've been watching TV a lot just lately, hence all the celeb-related
opinions and observations.
One thing I've noticed that is funny, like the story of the Emporer's New Clothes,
is this :

Even when celebs ruin their faces with plastic surgery, no one really
says anything! In fact, they say things like, " She looks great for being 60!"
Even though the person looks freakish and downright gross. Cher, Joan Rivers( who is probably 70) many others have self-mutilated.
Ha, remembered something funny ...recently when I saw Joan Rivers on
TV after her latest round of plastic surgery, I literally gagged! It was on TV guide
channel, and I was trying to see what was coming on. Got distracted, her face looked so deformed, disfigured that it actuallymade me gag! Granted, I also had PMS and was feeling a little nauseated
anyway, but still. That's pretty bad, when the sight of a celeb's face makes you
literally gag and wretch. If I'd had food in my stomach, it would've come up.

And maybe people are afraid of Victoria Gotti, I dunno, but SHE is one strange-looking
lady. I'm trying to figure out if she originally had a hairlip, it's hard to tell where the nightmare
began. She now has fake hair, fake blue eyes, fake nose, lips, teeth, probably fake boobs, a total makeover.
Wonder what she looked like originally. Probably better than she does now.
Other weird-looking celebs that have butchered their faces:

Lil' Kim. She looks so different, she's betrayed herself as having a screw loose.
That's the thing, maybe Victoria Gotti had a legit reason for initially having plastic surgery.
But Lil' Kim? Meg Ryan? Michael Jackson? Cher? When I saw Lil' Kim on TV recently,
she looked hideous, terrible. You could see the scars on the sides of her nose from her surgery,
she had the fake blue contacts in, and her lips were so swollen and misshapen that it
looked as if someone had punched her in the mouth really hard. When celebs go to this extreme
with the face-morphing, it's like an alarm bell. Says " For all my money and fame,
I'm fucking insane ( and/or on drugs)! Watch out!"

Someone I fear might get weird is Gwen Stefani.
Question: Did you ever think Gwen was fat? Not "phat" but
fat? No? Me either.
But apparently her record company told her to lose (20!) pounds,
and instead of objecting to it, she did it.
If you think she looks extra hot in her videos lately, consider the fact that she's dressing
sexier than she ever did before, and has a long wig which really becomes her.
AND she appears to have finally gotten fake boobs. I liked her for being natural.
Recently even though she's lost all this weight, her boobs appear to have grown.
Also, she's getting these Whitney Houston lines on the sides of her mouth. The-" I'm so
thin and sucked- up that I appear to be on crack because my face is skin and bones" lines.
Maybe Gavin Rossdale made her feel fat because he used to always date supermodels.
Hmm...maybe Gavin is doing something wrong, as a husband. Making little comments
the way husbands can sometimes.

In any case, Gwen is so beautiful and talented, what is she doing? She said recently that she
was "Miserable and always starving," so why buckle to the pressure of the record company?
On camera it looks ok, yes, but believe me, if you've ever seen any thin celebs in person, you'd know what I'm talking about. In person they look sickly and freakish.
Actually, that reminds me: Demi Moore would probably look about 5-10 years younger, if she would gain even 7-10 pounds. Her face would soften if she gained a few pounds. She looks haggard and kind of manly in her face these days. Another case of everyone feigning over
the celebrity when in fact they look tore up from the floor up and need a check-up from the neck up.
But doesn't it prove even more how true happiness comes from within? It's yet another example that you can have all the money in the world and it doesn't matter if you ain't right in the head and heart.
Enough o' the celeb blather for now.

Joe Simpson Is The Devil *

( * My apologies to the Devil for comparing him to Joe Simpson)

Ashley and Jessica's Daddy, Joe Simpson, is a pimp and perpetrator
of musical fraud, all under the guise of being a good Christian. I don't
have a problem with the Christianity, it's the hypocrisy of showing your
daughter's huge ta-ta's in a wet see-through blouse as you stand
there watching ( and probably with some wedgewood in your pants)
as they film her suggestive video. And THEN to call yourself a Christian?
Um, ok. But to me, that seems creepy and incestuous.

I'm not a Christian, but if I were, I'd see Joe Simpson as part of the problem,
not the solution.
As it is, I can't stand the guy for the fraud, when so many people out there
are actually talented and aren't getting the breaks that they deserve.

I made the mistake of watching a few episodes of the Jessica Simpson
show, and also I watched part of one episode of the Ashley show.
Now, the reason I watched the Jessica show was that I found her to
be genuinely amusing, and it was funny to see hubby Nick's perpetually
stunned/annoyed expressions when pearls of wisdom would drop forth
from Jessica's beautiful, perfect lips. The look on his face made me literally laugh
hard, every single time. The infamous "Tuna/Chicken" incident is a perfect
example. The girl also didn't know what a post office was. Or what" post" or "postal"
meant.

I swear, watching this Nick with Jessica made me kinda like the guy. He's smart,
after all. And if you doubt that, look at where YOUR position is in life, and consider
where HIS position is.
But I am off point.
My point : I can even see that Jessica has some talent, vocally. Not much, but
combined with her incredible beauty and ambitious father, it's enough.
But Ashlee gets me. And I can't even feel sorry for her position, because she's
genuinely delusional and was pissed that she didn't get nominated for a Grammy.

It's funny, people boo her at a football game, after the big lip-synching fiasco
on Saturday Night Live. But what does Ashlee say? " People weren't happy about
the game."
Wow.
On the one episode that I DID see, Ashlee was getting a backup singer, her friend,
and her friend sounds exactly like her! LOL.
IOW, Well, we can't perpetrate the lip synching anymore, so we'll get a REAL
singer that sounds like Ashlee, to sing OVER her during performances.

I'll give Joe this : he ain't stupid. It would be more merciful for the public in general
if he were. We wouldn't have been subjected to the excessive bullshittery.
( although I gotta admit, Ashlee's little yee-haw dance on SNL when her secret was discovered,
that WAS pretty funny).
Joe Simpson is like a puppet master, making Ashlee and Jessica dance and go through the
motions. When it's really HIS desires being obeyed.
He's a control freak who wields all the power. So the blame lands squarely at his feet.
Joe Simpson needs to go back to hell where he came from.

Tim Burton Is A Crackhead ( IMHO) PT.2

Movies that I think Tim Burton might try to regurgitate in the
future :

Wizard of Oz
Alice in Wonderland
Omega Man ( I Am Legend)
Silent Running ( the movie with Bruce Dern from the 70's)

As Tim Burton's drug induced world becomes more insular,
his creativity waning, more movies that I have
loved will be up for desecration.
Stop it Tim! Just stop it NOW!!!

Tim Burton Is A Crackhead ( IMHO)

I've lost soooo much respect for that guy since he regurgitated
Planet of the Apes, and believe me, a roast beef dinner is delightful
going down the first time, but tasting it a second time coming back up isn't
so great!
Such was Planet Of The Apes!

I saw Tim Burton on TV recently, and I really DO now believe the guy
is on crack, or some other imagination-raping drug.

Willy Wonka, even with all that Johnny- ever-losing-credibility-as-we-
speak-Depp can bring to the role, is still going to be something that is
basically regurgitated roast beef. Yummy going down the first time,
but not so good coming back up a second time.
IMHO.

The Time Has Come...

The walrus said, to talk of many things, of shoes and ships and sealing wax of cabbages and kings and why the sea is boiling hot and whether pigs have wings...
The Mad Hatter