Other Points of Interest

*edited for content. Some material was unsuitable for certain viewers.*
Apparently Tuesday night marked the evening my stomach and possibly, small intestine decided to stage their escape attempt out of my body. Holy God. You know you're sick when the bathroom floor feels like the most comfortable of featherbeds, and you wake up and don't mind that you're still there. Also, the next day, when your entire upper chest and the muscles therein feel like you've been carrying small children across burning oil fields ? Yes. You were extremely and violently ill.

Also, I think I have watched more Law and Order SVU than is healthy for any human being. Although seeing Margot Kidder (That's right bitches.. Lois Lane) play an incestuous mother to Hillary Swank's creepy husband? Worth every minute.

Good days...

On the Topic of PMS Revisited...

Again.. when I can't get my hair to do what I want after 3 tries, and I'm running late and I hurl the brush into the sink while cursing the whoreson who invented mornings, I know...

"It's that time of month
when I just hate the world
Every little thing makes me say
Fuck you kindly,
get the fuck out of my face!
And this song of mine, in three quarter time,
warns you ahead of time to stay the hell out of my fucking way."

And yeah, the last line doesn't scan properly.
You gonna do something about it?
Come over here., and I'll show you how far that'll get you.

God I pity the man who has to deal with me this evening.

Addendum:
While playing in the snow is fun, it is a glaring and cruel reminder that I am in fact NOT 9 years old anymore, and that the old grey mule, she ain't what she used to be.
Goddamnit.

On the Topic of Permission to Communicate...

I've got so much to say around this and I keep deleting it.

How ironic.

I guess, the point is this:

Tell people how you feel. Don't think it a burden.
Most people would like to help lighten your load.

On the Topic of Happiness and Sorrow...

I told a friend today:

I think the most important thing to remember is that in life, there is joy and there is sorrow. You can’t have one without the other. Our habit, however is to move toward sorrow rather than happiness.. that way, when the sorrow comes, we don’t miss the happiness, because it was never there to miss.

There are a couple things at work in my head here... 1. Therapy and the discoveries therein and 2. The Village.

Ha ha...The Village? Yes. The Village. For those of you who haven't seen this film, I won't spoil it. But, the theme that runs through it is this: You can't run from sorrow. But you can run toward hope.

That's what makes us human, right? Our dilligent hope in the face of pain. Even when we say things like "I will never ever allow myself to love again" (I can quote myself in this blog saying that exact thing), we do. We love. And when we're not loving, we hope for the love.

And then when we get it, suddenly we morph into Lenny and hug it and squeeze it and call it George, and summarily destroy it. How can we not? Something so rare and so Precious... my precious... how could we not want to hold on tight and NEVER let it go?

I don't know all the answers.
Is Love dead?

I Hope not.
;)

Ahhh, Therapy...

Yep, woo hoo! But first an update:

My God what a weekend.
I am constantly humbled by the blessings of good friends. Just when I think I'm pretty alone and the only one watching out for me...there it is. A reminder that in fact, there's a whole group of people who I love who love me right back. And pretty unconditionally.

Thank you everyone.

There's no title.

Yeah, so she never thought she'd see him again. And it really pissed her off. Well, first it hurt. Then she got mad. Then she decided to forget about it. That lasted all of five minutes, and the next three days were spent thinking about the situation, feeling alternately disappointed, sad, and angry...sometimes all at the same time. Which she knows is ok.

Tuesday, therapy. Where she finally accepted that she did the right thing and that anyone who couldn't see that let alone appreciate it, wasn't someone she should be worrying about. Still stung though. She hated not being able to FIX things. To MAKE people see the right path. So, she made a decision. One last olive branch. One last wave of that damn flag...

She wrote him-thinking of the movies and how she was actually setting up a scene from every romantic comedy ever made...which she herself had declared poisonous to the reality of living relationships-but she wrote on. Told him where she would be that evening and the next and that she'd really like to see him...told him he didn't have to reply, and tipped her hat to her almost obsessive need to beat something into the ground. She was a "try all avenues" kind of girl. She pressed "send".

In the afternoon, it started to snow. She watched, nonplussed, thinking it would stop soon. It didn't stop. It got worse and worse until she had to accept that the weather had thwarted her plan for a reconciliation. But, something small in her heart kept speaking up. Telling her she had to go anyway. What if he showed up? What if what if what if...

There were 4 other people in the bar besides her. She resolved to stay until 10:30. It was 9:20. She ordered a beer and sat down and listened to music...her stomach doing some floor work and then the uneven bars. She knew he wasn't going to show... but she even went so far as to alert another bartender just in case to show him where she'd be. Utter silliness. She laughed at herself. But didn't feel bad. She knew that there were about a thousand reasons he wasn't going to show up...the least of which being the 6 inches of snow outside.

She grabbed her beer and moved closer to the stage. Thinking to chat with her friend who was entertaining himself (as there was no one else to entertain). She lit a cigarette. Laughed at something he said. Took a sip of her beer and looked up and towards the bar.

And there he was.

And all she could think was "I can't believe he's here... that's so cool...that's so cool."
There were naysayers who told her "of COURSE he came."
But, when someone doubts as much as she has and has had just as much reason to do so... that moment gets burned in her brain.
All those times she'd watched some stupid movie starring someone whom it hurt to look at and he'd just got done holding up a boombox at the train station after climbing up a fire escape and crashing his girl's ill-fated wedding saying 'I was just nowhere near your neighborhood' and that little voice in her heart cried "Why not me??" and then in the same breath said "Fuck Romance. Love Disappears, Baby" suddenly popped in her brain and she realized that at least one time in her life, she'd actually had a movie moment.
And it was kick ass.

My Integrity is Worth More Than Someone Who is Scared of It.

I have been afraid of showing the ugly bits.
The stuff about me that makes me cringe a little on the inside.
Why? Because someone isn't gonna "like" me?
Whatever. It's clear by the content of these pages at least, that at least part of me just doesn't give a shit... or at least trusts that the people who matter find the ugly bits endearing and part of the grand tapestry that makes me...well, me. So, New Year's Resolution:

I will trust that my ugly bits are in fact kick ass and beautiful.

Happy Monday everybody!

OK, ok...this has to be posted.

I find it astounding that the entry on which you people felt compelled to comment was the one mentioning The Superbowl Shuffle's birthday... and the ensuing arguments.
(Author's note: My contribution was a cut and paste from another site. So, THEY got it wrong, not me. Not that it matters. Ya freaks.)

Anonymous said...
I'm Samurai Mike, I stop them cold Part of the defenseBig and Bold
I've been jamminfor quite a while
Doin what's right andSetting the style
Give me a chance, I'll rock you good
Nobody messes in my neighborhood
I didn't come here looking for trouble
I just came to do the superbowl shuffle.

Shitty Year. Yeah, i'll be drinking to that.
2:44 PM
ry k said...
oh yeah...try this on for size.
Well, they call me Sweetness,And I like to dance.
Runnin' the ball is like makin' romance.
We've had the goal since training camp
To give Chicago a Super Bowl Champ.
And we're not doin' this
Because we're greedy.
The Bears are doin' it to feed the needy.
We didn't come here to look for trouble,
We just came here to doThe Super Bowl Shuffle.
3:49 PM
LC Greenwood said...
They say Jimbo is our man.
If Jimmy can't do it, I sure can.
This is Steve, and it's no wonder
I run like lightnin', pass like thunder.
So bring on Atlanta, bring on Dallas,
This is for Mike and Papa Bear Halas.
I'm not here to feather his ruffle,
I just came here to doThe Super Bowl Shuffle.

God this is sad.
4:19 PM
Anonymous said...
First of all, I think it's - When I'm not here the feathers ruffle, but another argument for another time.
I'm LA Mike and I play it cool
They don't slip by me cause I'm no fool
I fly on the field and get on down
Everybody knows, I don't mess around
I can break em, shake em, any time of day
I like to stick em and make em pay
So please don't try to beat my hussle (or is it hustle?)
I'm just here to do the Superbowl Shuffle.
Mike Richardson - Deal with that
8:46 AM
Anonymous said...
You're lookin at the Frig, I'm the rookie.
I may be large but I'm no dumb cookie.
You've seen me hit, You've seen me run.
When I catch the pass, we'll have more fun.
I can dance, you will see.
The others, they all learn from me.
I didn't come here lookin for trouble,
I just came to do the super bowl shuffle.
Uuuhhaaaa. Uhhaaaa, uhhaaa-haaaaa!
Yeeeehhhhaaaaa 1984!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
12:24 PM
Casual Observer said...
“I'm not here to feather his ruffle?”“When I’m not here the feathers ruffle?”Poor Steve Fuller may have thrown like a sissy on occasion, but I don’t think he was a cross-dresser. Don’t over-think this, it is not “Blinded by the Light”.The lyric is simply:“I’m not here to feathers ruffle”Which is grammatically parallel to the chorus“We’re not here to start no trouble”Back to reminiscing...
It's Gary hereAnd I'm Mr. Clean
They call me "Hit Man"
Don't know what they mean
They throw it long
And watch me run
I'm on my man One on one
Buddy's guys
Cover it down to the bone
That's why they call us
The 46 zone
Come on everybody
Let's scream and yell
We're gonna do the shuffle
Then ring your bell
11:16 AM
Anonymous said...
ATTN Casual Observer: You may know GARY's words but you are wrong about the feather part. It IS "When I'm not here the feathers ruffle". Maybe your should study your 80's songs a little bit better before you go pointing the finger at people trying to have fun on a blog. Nice mood kill, know-it-all, teachers pet. Why don't you try typing on your site and see who comments, and why? Other foot please!
1:51 PM

You people bring a smile to my face...

And Here Comes the Snow.

(For an update of yesterdays entry...scroll down...)

I honestly think I am meant to live my life in a perpetual state of frustration. I simply cannot abide unreasonable people. Seriously. I've been walking around the last two days absolutely confounded by the fact that there are people who are perfectly willing to walk away from a good thing simply because they're angry. AND that once they've made up their mind, there's NO changing it. NO SIR! "Because I'm 'Mr. everything in my life has to go MY way and if it doesn't then I'm taking my ball and going home!'" Whatever. I sincerely hate inflexibility when it comes to relationships with other people.

Anyway. I was at another open jam last night. And the Orange Bowl was on the TV box. OK, so, apparently, and I don't really know that much about the "bowl system", The Orange Bowl is the biggest thing next to the Olympics. I kept saying to myself "it's the ORANGE BOWL not the ROSE BOWL...what is the big fucking deal?" Well, there must be a big deal because it was THE game to be at... as made evident with cameos by:
Puff Daddy, Will Ferrell, Ashley Simpson (more on her in just a sec), and a totally inexplicable interview with Shaq...on the field. So, I guess SHAQ is the go-to guy for up to the minute Bowl coverage. What???

Ashley Simpson. What a goddamned waste of space this chick is. Now, picture this. She's in the middle of the stadium, on a little stage, she's singing and by singing I mean lip-syncing- and jumping around like she's actually "making a statement" and meanwhile there are about 15,000 dancers doing 50 different dances around her... including what looked like Drum Majors. And Cheerleaders. Ok, now, last I checked, most of Simpson's songs are about Love and/or some kind of manufactured "pain". How do Drum Majors, Cheerleaders, and another 10,000 assholes with big billowy flags doing some kind of semaphore routine help to tell her story???

Speaking of celebrities, Mickey Mouse showed up. Or, more accurately, some asshole in a Mickey Suit jumping around and waving like the village idiot showed up. And it got me thinking. You know, Mickey IS a talking character. Much like Bugs, Daffy, Goofy, and any other of the cartoon characters one might encounter at an amusement park, football game, car dealership opening... So why don't the yahoos we see at these fucking events talk? It can't be healthy for kids.

Scene: Disney World
Sticky Child: (screaming like his/her head is on fucking fire) MOMMEEEEEEE It's MICKEY!!!!!!
(enter Frightening Life Size Mickey waving and gesturing and kicking up his heels in a jolly, jaunty way.)
Sticky Child: MICKEY!!! You're my hero!!!
Mickey: (more waving and cute gesturing to suggest that the kid is just flattering him. you know what I'm talking about. Don't tell me you don't.)
Sticky Child: How come you're not talking? Mommy, how come Mickey doesn't talk??
Mickey aka "Asshole in the Suit":... (more insane gesturing, this time suggesting that his tongue was cut out when he dared speak out during the Eisner regime)...
Sticky Child : (Screams and runs away leaving his/her parents to pick up the pieces of his broken dreams and to tell him that there's also no damn Santa.)

My point is, we have the technology. How bout if we MUST represent cartoons in real-life, let's build some talking goddamned suits.

Final Thought:
This new movie... "White Noise" aka "Desperate Grab for Last vestiges of Michael Keaton's Career" or "What One Hears When Considering Michael Keaton's Career"...
The tag line is something to the effect of "In the White Noise...the dead can come through...but so can something else.." WHAT ELSE BESIDES DEAD PEOPLE COULD POSSIBLY BE COMING THROUGH?? Dead puppies? FUCK.

Poetry Time!!!!

Childish little boy
with your expectations and picnic
equipment that drive nearly everything you do.
You go round and through us destroying any
hope we had that you might be ok.
And God Forbid we might let you down-
It's the end it's over and
there's no understanding.
Meanwhile, you can fuck us
and leave us and never call us and lie to us-
any thing to keep you on top, inside and wet.
You wonder why we're crazy.
Wonder Why. Who ever
really sees what they've sown before they
devour what's next.
We've hardened my hearts but you find
your way in
Insidious, cute little boy
with your innocent smile and big bright eyes.
How can we resist the words you know we long and
need to hear?
So, we'll become one of you and plow through each
of you with very little thought of consequence.
But sadly, what still lies inside in that desire that
one of you will be right, that one of you will be good
and we can look at you with trusting eyes and
a warm, unwasted smile and hope for a future.
Uck.

EDIT/: Also, interesting to note:
Last night I had a dream that I was at an outdoor production of Twelfth Night or some other Shakes show I've never seen and/or read and everyone was freaking out about the Star of the show who turned out to be this tall kinda stocky guy with hair resembling the Sensei in Karate Kid. He was even wearing a sleeveless black t-shirt affair. I think he ended up getting into a fight during the show but everyone forgave him because he was so cool. Then I had to go on stage to perform a monologue from Twelfth Night which sucked cause I had to read it off the page but I hadn't scanned it yet, so I knew I was going to suck in front of the star everyone was nuts about who looked like the Sensei from Karate Kid. Then I woke up and it was 7:10 and I had to get the fuck ready for work.
Weird.

Happy New Year!

Well, here we are. Monday Morning.

New Year's was pretty cool, complete with my requisite weeping. At a party. Not because I was sad per se, but because when the emotions (whatever they may be) get to be too much, my cup runneth over, as they say, and the tears come.

I cannot WAIT to see pictures from the party I attended. Thanks to Anonymous and Mrs. Anonymous for a WONDERFUL time. It was nice to get dressed up and look pretty and then proceed to drink waaaaaaay too much.

Anyway...

Have a good day everyone. And look for more stories in the new year...