Saturday, December 31, 2005

Happy New Year Everyone!

I really hope 2006 is a better year for everyone,and if it's worse for anyone, let it be worse for the people that deserve their come-uppance!The people that have been treating others like crap and never got what they deserve, the kind other people look at and feel despair about how they can get away with it.Ha! But back to the positive:
Happy New year! :D

Friday, December 30, 2005

Ugliest shoes I have ever seen, at 5 dollars
they were a bargain. I got them at Ross Dress For Less.
The only time I ever wore them was to do a jig
in my flannel granny nightgown a couple of winters ago, for
my ex. We laughed and laughed.I made sure and point the toes
out when I did the dance, the toes are one of the funniest parts
of the shoe.:)
Anyway, these are the "Apocalyptic-pseudo-puritannical
-bowling-shoes" that I have mentioned elsewhere.
Here's an alternate view with the sole
BTW, if your eyes are detecting the color puce along with turquoise,
your eyes are right. Why, that's no navy, that's Puce!

Thursday, December 29, 2005

Monday, December 26, 2005

Rick M. Pt 2...

Rick M. Pt 2...
Once again when Rick and I were 17 and 18, we were at my apartment
talking. He'd been telling me of yet another incident, a fight.
I said, " Rick, you always pick door number 2."
"Whadya mean?"
" Door number 1 is a non-violent solution to a problem, and door number 2 is this... "
And with that I punched the palm of my hand with my fist. He got it.
" Door number 2 is the violent solution to a problem. You always pick door number 2."

He laughed good naturedly, he knew I was right. " I DO always pick door number 2, don't I?"

Looking back now, at the way things turned out, I almost think that was some sort a personal revelation for Rick.
I remember walking through Serra Mesa after that, walking downhill, and seeing Rick coming from the opposite direction, up- hill.
He's huffing and puffing, he has a pretty blonde girl with him. He's carrying the pretty blonde girl piggy-back, while running.
" Hey! What's up?"
" for bootcamp. I'm getting my record exspunged, and I'm going into the Marines."
" WOW! Well hey, good luck!"
This was actually around the time I lost contact with Rick for awhile. This was also before the Gulf War.He DID in fact get his juvenile record exspunged, did whatever he needed to do, and joined the Marines. Much later, years later, I ran into Rick.
I was married, it felt like a lifetime later. Rick had a crewcut, gone were the pretty brown curls. But he looked good, healthy. He'd just gotten back from the Persian Gulf, as a Medic. Something he said to me was very telling, very interesting to me. " You know, Lisa? It's easier to kill people than it is
to help them to live."
I was very proud of Rick for cleaning his act up, and I said so. We had him over for dinner, a couple of different times. Rick became a conservative Republican, die-hard Bush supporter, the whole nine yards.After he got out of the military he became a Reservist, so he was still technically in. I called him on Veteran's Day once, and thanked him for fighting for us. It meant a lot to him, and it was the closest I think I'd ever heard him get to being choked up, truly unguarded.Even then he was hard.

I've been thinking of Rick a lot lately, because I think I know where he is right now, and I hope he's ok. He's in very good physical shape, had previously been a Medic over there. You can't tell me they didn't want him.If I believed in God I'd pray for him. As it is I am sending thoughts and wishes for him to be safe, wherever he is.
But I can tell you this : When it comes to fighting in the name of the U.S.(regardless of your beliefs about the war), Rick is the perfect guy for the job, I can't imagine anyone more suitable. And he believed in what he was doing, he wanted to be over there. Especially after 9/11. Like I said, I sure hope he's ok, wherever he is.

Rick M : A Partial Repost ( I'm cheating)..

Rick M...

Rick strode purposefully across the square. He had long, shiny
brown curls trailing out from under a black fedora. It was summer.
He was wearing a white sleeveless t-shirt ( a "wife beater"), loose levi-cutoffs,
and shower thongs, with white gym socks. Billy Idol's " Eyes Without a Face"
video was playing that summer, and many had joked about Rick's
resemblance to Billy.
Striding purposefully, thongs, fists perpetually clenched, thumbs out. Except for this day, one fist holds a gas can. He was out of gas, he was 17. His ancient, primer- covered Comet was sitting parked around the corner.
Rick was always out of gas. In fact, that's how my friends and I always ran into him, he would be walking with his gas can.In winter he wore fatigues and combat boots. That's the only thing that changed with this scenario.

Rick was half -Phillipino, a fact that not many knew, because Rick didn't want them to know. It didn't fit the CYA ( kid's prison) notion of being white, pure.He lived down the street from me.
Rick lived with his grandparents, a very sweet and diminutive old Asian couple. That was why I knew. Because Rick looked odd standing next to them. He was a big guy, white, green eyes, didn't look Asian in the least. Until you stood next to him and his grandparents, and if you were perceptive, you'd start to notice a bit of resemblance in the faces of the 3. People that think they knew Rick would probably be surprised to know that about him. I initially thought that they were a foster couple. Rick and I had that in common, we'd both been in the system quite a bit.
Me in foster homes and the receiving home you go to when the cops take you away from your parents who are the bad ones in these cases.. Gave me additional cred, though.And it was deserved, those places are bad! You have to defend yourself. And it's like adult prison, in that way and many others. But I digress...

If you get the idea that Rick was a good-looking kid, you'd be right. He had no shortage of pretty girls around him, but I personally wasn't interested.
Rick and I met when I was 13, he was 12. I am the person he has known the longest, in San Diego. I am like a sister to him, he is like a brother to me. We met at a Halloween party, playing spin -the- bottle. We had to kiss. A funny thing : I think he was wearing the fedora even then, at the age of 12. At least, that's the way I remember it. A 12 yr old baby faced kid in a black jacket and fedora.

I'm not sure why I wasn't ever attracted to Rick. He was a bad-boy, good-looking,
legitimately a hard-core badass but loyal to his friends. He was a character. I guess I just thought of him as a character, a brother, and sometimes not very bright.
Although even this isn't quite true. He had a good sense of humor, he was very bright when it came to certain things, unfortunately those were usually things having to do with guns or some sort of criminal activity. He taught me to fight better. The fighting techniques that I learned from Rick, I still remember, and in fact they work very well. This is more street fighting stuff, not anything fancy. Work on one eye.
I remember that we spent literally hours sparring. We were kids.
" Elbows, block, move in, work on one eye."

He was protective of me, and I appreciated that when I got a little older and had my own place. One night when I was 18 and had a little studio ( I worked full time 6 days a week at a dry cleaning plant, exhausted all the time.Didn't have a car, my parents were persona non grata.) I heard a noise at my back door, opened it, and it was Rick.
" You shouldn't have opened the door. I was patrolling the area to make sure everything was safe." : )

Once when someone hurt me, Rick wanted to fly out to this other state and take care of someone in the most permanent of ways. And he claimed to know people that dealt with those sorts of problems, and we all believed him. I believed him. He didn't talk about that stuff to everyone.But the point is, even though Rick and I were strictly platonic, he was extremely protective of me, and I needed that, being young and on my own.

So Rick is walking with his gas can. For a guy wearing thongs with socks, he is pulling off a surprisingly bad-ass stride that one wouldn't think is possible.
" What's up."
" Hey, what's up." We can actually see what Rick is up to. It's rhetorical on our part. We all joked about Rick's car ( with Rick in on the joke, he did have a good sense of humor), and how we always saw him walking everywhere. More often than not.
The Comet was always being spotted at some curb around different areas of S.M.
And he ran out of gas so often that if you actually SAW Rick driving the Comet, it was an event! :O

In fact, an example....

One day I was walking to his house ( his grandparents liked me, and I was one of the only people allowed over there), I was almost there when I saw him come rushing out of the house with a heavy wooden box. Very heavy. Black graffitti all over it.
He was struggling with it, but hurriedly. He was almost panicking. He sees me...
" Hey! Grab one end!"
No "hello" or "hey what's up" , but a "Grab this! Careful - C'mon!"

So we are walking up the street, but this box is heavy. It's wooden military box, a foot locker with metal handles that aren't so easy to hold onto. Plus it's heavy as hell.
"Hurry!" He says, because I guess I'm not walking fast enough.
" Where are we going?"
Which is where I'm from originally, but at this time much of the decrepit housing is abandoned.
I remember when we first moved there, my mother took one look and started crying.
" We can't live here, Charlie, we can't live here!" Cried in a heartbreaking way...

But at this point it's years later, and the housing is condemned, abandoned.

So Rick and I are hurrying towards the abandoned housing, where we all have been
hanging out and partying that summer, still too young to buy alcohol. We are 17 and 18.We get to the housing, and we even have to carry it upstairs, which sucks.
But I see what Rick was going for, and to my surprise, we huffed and puffed and got that box hidden on the second floor, in a closet.

But not before I got to see what was in the box.
As we were hurrying along, Rick had said in a hushed tone " My P.O. is coming over, right now!
I need to stash these!"
So before we hefted the box up into the attic, he lifted the lid and showed me what was so incredibly heavy.
Lots and lots of guns, more guns than I'd probably seen in my whole life, handguns, shotguns,even an ak-47 that I'd already known about long before this. All kinds of guns. And If I hadn't come along when I did, I don't know how Rick would've gotten that box all the way to housing and stashed upstairs in time for his P.O. to come over.

Where does the car come into this, you ask?
That night, I'm walking up through the square, by myself. And there is Rick,
slowly driving in front of me. He has a car load of people, the music's blaring,
weed, beer, fun. " Hey!!!"
Wanna go to the beach? We're cruisin' to the beach."
I go over to the driver side, where Rick is. I say in a low voice,
" So I take it everything went ok today?"
He says in an equally confiding voice " Yeah, but we're cruisin to the beach to drop something in the ocean.Do you want to go?"
"Ah....Nah.That's ok... Well, have fun. "
" Thanks for today, I owe you...Later!"
And they drove off.

It was one of the rare occasions where I saw him actually driving the comet!

A year or so later I drove the Comet when he decided that I needed to learn to drive.
I got to drive it all over the stadium parking lot, Rick fretting nervously and sounding so unlike his usual self that it was funny and kind of sweet...

I'll have a part two coming because it's interesting what happened to Rick.And because I got sidetracked there, he's such an interesting character...

Thank You Everyone...

I was going to try and write an individual thank you to everyone, and usually I'm pretty good about replying to each person. But I'm kinda tired tonight, I did walk extensively today and tried to stay busy.Plus I'm still a little sick.
But I wanted to say: I appreciate you guys, all of you that opened your hearts to me
and helped me through this holiday. I'm not sure I would have even made it through,
though I like to think I would have.It definitely would have been much worse than it was!BTW, I baked a chicken and a pie, those were great. I could've had turkey, but I was still full from Thanksgiving. I don't like ham, so that was out.

I didn't actually get any presents, but we know I bought myself two guitars, and also I ordered a cookie bouquet. Plus my T and CD from Simon came on Christmas Eve, oddly enough. So it wasn't so bad.
But the real gift was having you guys, your kind words and thoughts, empathy.
I appreciate you so much!
I'll be posting something musical soon. I need to get back on that, and not isolate myself. Just haven't had the heart to play, and that's when you know it's bad.

Tonight what changed was that the holidays are over, officially over for me. And that
I made it through. And also remembering how you all had my back, so to speak. That's awesome. What a comfort you all have been to me! Thank you so much!xoxoxo
Actually,I do have to mention that I began feeling better last night after I heard from my brother out of the blue. And he hates Christmas and avoids it like the plague!So it was a total surprise.But that definitely also helped me a lot, I have to admit.

Sunday, December 25, 2005

Feel a Little Better Today...

Actually, I was doing ok yesterday, until the day waned, and night came on. Around four in the afternoon I looked around my little house, lowered my face into my hands and wept for a long time. I even wailed out loud " You're feeling sorry for yourself!" But it didn't help.It was weird because I didn't know I was even going to do that a minute before. The thing is, it's not like I even did anything wrong to warrant being so alone! Just a life choices coupled with bad luck combination.Plus my brother doesn't celebrate christmas. I understand that. Our family has had such a bad run of luck on Christmas.The person that was the glue that held what was left of our family together died on christmas day. My mother's father. So every christmas for our family was a forced gaiety, usually with my mother winding up going to her room and quietly crying.

I was writing this to say that I feel a little better today. I'm forcing it, but it might be working a little. At least I'm not sobbing uncontrollably so far today. lol
Hang in there everyone, the holidays are almost over! I won't have it rubbed in my face much longer. What I don't have. Children and family. Christmas is the rub it in your face for people without kids and a mate. It's like a test.

Saturday, December 24, 2005

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Sicker Today...

The past couple of days in particular, I feel really weak. I actually went back to bed
today, and slept for awhile. And I feel like sleeping again, right now! Ithink I have the flu.Maybe I'd gotten a cold and was battling it all along, it wasn't too bad. But whew!Yesterday
morning when I got up,I felt pretty bad. I need to watch out because I think that's how
I got pneumonia. Started out as one thing, a cold or something, lingered, got worse, and wham, pneumonia. Took me several months to get over it. It was that bad.
So I'm going back to bed right now. I hate sleeping in the middle of the day,just hate it! Makes me feel weird when I wake up later. Throws everything off.
But anyway, hope everyone's hanging in there. I'm down for the count until further notice.That's why I haven't been blogging today:( xoxoLisa

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Edited Partial Repost About French Horn...

I think I know why I deliberately made myself forget about playing French horn. To admit to playing it is to tell how I stopped playing it.Why.I remember auditioning for the advancedband, the teacher came all the way from the other school.
I got in, no problem. I "won". At that time it was probably the best thing that ever happened for me, the most personally thrilling. I was ecstatic. Felt like winning.
So I played. I kicked ass, I was 1st chair. There was a real competition thing going there. I think there were 4 of us. The girl that was second chair made me feel like I had to stay on my toes. There were 2 guys, also.I was proud of myself, but I had a secret. The longer it went on, the more my insecurity and fear grew. Let's call it paranoia.
I didn't know how to read music. Never did learn. I mean, I got the idea, I get it, kind of.It's just that my mind/body doesn't see music that way. Not when it comes to playing it, hearing it. The way my ears transmit sound to my brain.Basically, I got to stay first chair with people wanting my spot, all that time, playing
by ear. And after a while, it ate at me. For some reason, I thought it was really bad, that I was a fraud. Mr. Sonstegaard would say "Ok everyone, turn to page 21" , and everyone would do it, including myself, but those might as well been sheets of kleenex. They were, in fact, less useful to me then kleenex .
So I kept up my fraud, learned songs, until one day I couldn't stand it anymore. I was feeling like I was retarded. Literally, retarded from being as good as everyone else, because the black dots were just black dots and squiggles. Even though I was still first chair.
In fact, Purple and fucshia, lavender are sounds of minor chords to me, and blues chords really sound brown sometimes. Or red..Or orangey.Or even black.
I see music in color, and shapes in my mind. I even see/hear it in textures. My friend Al had an old Gretch guitar, really nice. I called it the crunchy Gretch. Sounded crunchy a lot. But good.
This isn't some acid-related thing, I was a young kid seeing it like this.
I can see music in color, shapes ( such as when Santana does this one solo that I like, it sounds like a sunburst, or like an exploding star. My mind sees it as a burst of light behind my eyes.). I can see music in texture. I can even see music
in numbers.
But I cannot see music in little black dots.
I can read music these days -sort of.This was how I felt at that age.I felt like I wasn't good enough for band because I couldn't read music.So I went to Mr. Sonstegaard, and I spoke to him after class one day. Told him " I'm going to have to drop out of band."
He asked why, and I told him. His face changed, but not in the way that I expected.
He said " You don't know how to read music? And you've been playing by ear, all this time?"
I said yes.
" Well then you CAN'T quit band, don't you see how good that is?" But I didn't see it.I felt like an idiot.He was genuinely upset, and he really did put on a hard sell, as far as trying to get me to stay in band. Normally he was a laid back, cheerful guy. This was a very different demeanor, he was geuinely unhapy!

Makes me sad thikning of it now, because I stood my ground and quit band. :( What a mistake.I regret it, and I have regretted it always. It wasn't really about the money, and the cost of renting the French horn, like I'd originally hinted. My parents never complained about the rental.Those even then were very expensive to own, though.That's why we rented it.
So I guess I know now why I never wanted to remember thatI played French horn.
And recently you-know-who reminded me. That's surely why I remembered it.

Songs are like puzzles, brightly colored ones. Drums, bass, guitar, all puzzle pieces that fit together to from a picture, a song.

Sunday, December 18, 2005

Saturday, December 17, 2005

Damned cats.Was just improvising some more,2-track webcam stuff. The Peavey.Trying to
figure out a solo for one of my originals,one that you might recognize (or not:)
Either way,it's very distracting when your cat jumps up into your lap while you are playing.:)
I tried to let her stay because she's so cute, but it just didn't work out. I'm not playing well now anyway, it's late. But there's the Peavey in action. I'm really enjoying it! I'm still getting used to them, though. And I'm having minor amp problems.
I'm working on it.I had the amp already, a Fender.
When I bought the guitars the guy threw in some free stuff, which was really nice, including this long rubber guitar/amp chord thing. Better than the one I had already
that keep shorting out. gave me a strap, too. I noticed he gave me a discount on the Hohner after I tried to haggle. Hey, these are used guitars. So I said "How about both for xxx?" And he said "I can't but I'll throw in a few things." Which is how I got the killer guitar chord. It really is better.But I noticed after I got home that he did give me a 50 buck discount after all, which was nice!That's why I mentioned it! Ha!
I really don't think I did too badly on the deal. They are in excellent shape.:)

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Sunday, December 11, 2005

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Friday, December 09, 2005

Thursday, December 08, 2005

R.I.P. Dime:(

My heart is in a different place tonight. I know others are thinking about John. I am too, but Dime and several others were shot to death in a club a year ago tonight. I
don't really have the time to go into this extensively. But I wanted mention, my heart today and tonight is with those loving fans who were rocking out, having a good time, and saw their guitar hero, idol onstage shot in the head right in front of them.Dime was good people, and a hell of an underrated guitar by those not in the know.

I wept today again over Dime. And for Vinnie, who witnessed his brother killed in front of him.And for the fans who will probably never quite be ok after witnessing such a thing.
For the others killed trying to protect them.For Dime and Vinnie's mother.
The accounts of what happened are heartbreaking.
When Darrell died, a fan who was a nurse was doing cpr, while other fans were crying and kissing his hands and feet. A vendor said this, in broken English " I went to try to pull them all away from him. They were crying and kissing his hands and feet. They loved him so much, I couldn't bring myself to try and stop them."
So that's who my thoughts and love go to tonight. The fans that loved Dimebag Darrell
and witessed his death. The families of all involved.The others killed.
Yes, I'm sad for John. But I can only imagine the hell that the survivors of that hellish concert a year ago are going through.
And it's a horrible coincidence that it happened on the anniversary of John Lennon's
death. Partly because Darrell deserved more recognition for the stunning guitarist
he was, and for the big heart and kind words that he had for everyone.
R.I.P. Darrell, we love you.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Friday, December 02, 2005