Anything Goes

A BLESSED SAMHAIN TO ALL!!! 

Smoke another cigarette
Reminisce on a girl I met
Watch another day pass me by
A country road that takes me home
The only place that I’ve ever known
I sure do love that Rocky Mountain sky(Chorus)Just like the seasons I’m gonna change
Like the clouds I’m rollin’ on
Hey, Merle Haggard I know what you mean
When you say sing me back homeGot my wheels stretched out on a road
Them yellow lines that free my soul
Mama always said that I was born to roam
I’m headed down the highway
Livin’ life the free way
Today I’m here but tomorrow I’m gone

This is it. The last song on BLACK STONE CHERRY’S CD. Thank you for sticking through this with me. I appreciate it. I know you’re out there even if you don’t comment.Originally, this was to be a 13 part series, posted back-to-back from Oct. 1^st, the day after I saw BSC in Atlanta, to Friday the 13^th. It didn’t quite work out that way but ending on the 31^st is somehow more appropriate. This has been a very trying month for me and I’m glad I had already committed myself to writing this. When so much went wrong, I had a reason to look for the right.

It also reminds me of all the places I’ve traveled to, sometimes just for one night (Today I’m here but tomorrow I’m gone.) I also included part of the lyrics in this song on my BSC t-shirt… Born to Roam. Given that I’ve traveled the equivalent of over one and a half times around the Earth, I think it’s fitting. I want to travel more. I want to visit the other 25 states, I want to see Poland and Italy but right now, my sights are set on Transylvania. They still get around by horse and cart in Transylvania. I’m sure a lot of people would find that much too rural but even in WV, even at my parent’s farm, I still hear cars and trucks, farm equipment and planes overhead.

I really do want to be somewhere where its quiet. When you close your eyes, you can smell the Earth, fresh dirt, flowers, the wind, where the land is so old you can feel the bloody battles, the history, the people who have walked that ground. Its so real you can soak it into your bones like sunshine. You’re so free and everything is so simple and beautiful, it makes you want to cry.

But as Dorothy said, “There’s no place like home.”

My guys, Chris, Ben, Jon, and John Fred, they sing me back home. That’s why I love their music.

Finis

Oh yeah, it’s my BLACK STONE CHERRY T-SHIRT!!  The one I designed…

Ain’t got no cause not a care in the world
Got my eyes on a hot-rod girl
And I’m gonna show her my sleek mean machine
Built on love fueled by gasoline
(Chorus)
Just drive
We gonna go for a ride
Just drive
We were born to flyTake down the top we don’t need it anymore
Drive this road with the pedal to the floor
Were gonna go for the ride of our lives
It starts right here but it won’t end tonight(Chorus)

I also just like to drive and my friend T-Bird is like that too. Sometimes you just want to drive and talk and there isn’t any real destination in mind. I like driving at night and normally when I get on a driving whim I take off for Point Pleasant which is about 45 minutes from where I live. I walk around downtown, which is about two blocks long, ending with a statue of the Mothman. If I’m with someone, sometimes we’ll walk the historic district and read the plaques telling about all of the places. Sometimes I walk in the pre-and post-Revolutionary War cemetery. I know that one of my direct ancestors was killed there and there’s Cornstalk’s Curse and the whole area is just full of ghosts and spooks and odd things.

It doesn’t help that the locals are … different. Very different. And they know you’re different. I swear every soul in that town is blessed with sixth sense and they know you’re not from there, which just adds to the creepiness factor. Not that they’re rude (unless you count those folks who chased me and a friend out of McClintick one night…) But they have a way about them.

Even the drive home is spooky because it’s along Route 35 which is heavily traveled yet very rural. They don’t have any street lights, just a couple of gas stations, an all night adult bookstore, and a lot deer in your headlights. Route 62 across the river is even more rural, if that’s possible. If you’re returning from Point Pleasant and a visit to the Mothman statue, you can imagine it gets kinda creepy because it really is in the back of your mind… where’s Mothman?

Seems I always head that way when either there’s a full moon or its raining and foggy. Gives me chills just thinking about it. Not sure which is worse, although I will admit to wondering what I would do if I suddenly saw a huge Mothman-like shadow on the highway under the full moon. Let’s hope I never find out.

If you’re ever my way, I’d love to show you around… at night. Muahahahahahahahahaahaahaaa…

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

I woke up this morning and saw the clock read 9, which I then translated to 10, because I have trouble accepting the fact the clocks were set back an hour last night. For days afterward, I still translate it an hour forward. I guess its the lag between the time clock and the body clock.

Yesterday, Nate and I had breakfast and then went out to Michael’s Craft Store to pick up some beading wire, crimp beads, a crimper etc., and then we went over the Books A Million and I picked him up a few books. The wind was horrible yesterday, 25 mph for most of the day, so Nate and I stayed snuggled up in the bedroom with a few cats. I beaded and he played a video game and made up stories about five guys named, Bob, Bobby, Billy, Billy Bob, and Billy Bobby, an out-of- control car, and falling off of a mountain to escape the out-of-control car only to see the out-of-control car at the bottom of the mountain. Nate’s rendition of “Duel” or “Joy Ride.”

If you haven’t seen “Duel” or “Joy Ride,” you should. “Duel” was Steven Spielberg’s motion picture debut, even though “Duel” started out as a Movie of the Week and was originally much shorter than 90 minutes. In “Joy Ride” you get Paul Walker and Steve Zahn up against another maniacal trucker, “Rusty Nails.” The cool thing about “Joy Ride” is that the voice of “Rusty Nails” is by Ted Levine, better known for his role in “Silence of the Lambs” as “Buffalo Bill.”

It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.

It’s time for brunch, since I passed up breakfast a few hours ago, then it’s on with housekeeping, washing clothes, and reading Superfudge with Nate. And let us not mention finishing the necklace I’ve been working on. It’s a special gift made to match something else he already owns. I’m finding that working with beading wire has improved the process of putting these particular type of necklaces together. Pictures later.

Have a beautiful Sunday!

*Written late Thursday night*

My new writing job is going well. It’s definitely keeping me busy. I went to the Shop on Sunday and realized how much I missed it, which sucks.

My “twin,” Stacey, called to ask if I wanted him to drop my ticket for the BSC show off at the shop. I was like, “Dude, we’re riding together…” It is kind of strange though. He called me the other night and asked about what time I wanted to leave for Columbus and I said, “About noon.” He said, “Oh yeah, me too! Thought I’d get there, scout it out, find parking, get a bite to eat, stand in line, see if I could talk to the guys, come home. I’m just going for Black Stone Cherry. I don’t really want to see BLS.” Those were MY plans exactly. I swear, if he didn’t have a girlfriend… I’d give up this whole “separated at birth” thing and just go for it.

I like Stacey’s girlfriend, except she’s clingy, possessive, jealous, and rarely smiles. Wet. Mop. See, I know if Stacey and I get separated at the show, we’ll meet up later and have great stories to tell each other about what happened while we were apart. If she’s there, he won’t be able to move sideways without stepping on her. Now, from what I understand, Stacey isn’t the most faithful of individuals, so her close tabs on him is somewhat understandable but on that same level, if someone drives you THAT crazy that you can’t let them out of your sight out of fear of what they will do and with whom, I’m not sure I’d call that healthy or fun in any way. Its really a “he said,” “she said,” sort of thing and the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

So, if she doesn’t come with us, which frankly, I hope she doesn’t because I don’t want to deal with all that drama (Lord and Lady know I have enough of my own) maybe I can investigate this situation further, figure out the deal. I guess that’s unfair in a way because Stacey is her boyfriend and I’m a girl but its not my decision and I can always drive to Columbus by myself and do my own thing. If I don’t get to go to Vegas, then this will be my last time seeing BSC for the rest of the year unless they add dates and I just want to relax, eat good food, bang my head, see my guys, and come home, happy.

Did you notice I mentioned food? Yes, German food at that! Mmmmmmm… I loves me some German food! Schmidts Restaurant & Sausage Haus. They have Weiner Schnitzel. I doubt it’s as good as my Mama made when I lived in Germany but I’ll give it a try. They also have 1/2 pound, HALF POUND!, cream puffs. Since I’m notorious for buying desserts as big as my head, I’ll have to get one (or two) of those suckers. Check ‘em out! http://www.schmidthaus.com Click on “MENU” to see those glorious half pound cream puffs. http://www.schmidtshaus.com

I’M SO EXCITED!!! Can you tell??? *bounce bounce bounce bounce bounce*

I need to order beading supplies. I forgot… sigh. That MUST be done!

I have to send out my bead order for Tamarack on Monday. Everything is just about done. One more bracelet, which should only take… 1/2 an hour… has to be done. Maybe another pair of earrings. I need to put French wires on two of them. I have to do an invoice. Pack it. Ship it.

I have two articles due tomorrow. One is finished, just need to delete one sentence and upload the picture. The other is practically written, just need to spruce it up. Find a photo and I’m done. Then there’s another story that I have all of the material for but no print date yet. I’m trying to get a hold of a lady who is notorious for being … difficult. See, after Columbus on Wednesday, Thursday night is the WVU/Louisville game and then on Friday, I’m leaving for Pittsburgh and I have NOTHING to wear to a wedding reception. I wonder if it would be okay if I wore my BSC t-shirt with a turtleneck and a pair of camos….

Speaking again of BSC, I will be working this weekend on finishing up some more jewelry. As always, it’s not the beading part that gets me, it’s the “putting it together” part that gets me. I’m quite frustrated. I’m about ready to skip the whole “sinew” thing and get some tigertail. I bet if I used tigertail, I wouldn’t be having this problem. But, I’m also out of beads and that’s what I need to order, and I need some crimp beads and a crimper, but Nate has a Science test tomorrow and I have his party and I need to call his doctor’s office and these articles and then next week is trick or treat and Samhain services and paying the mortgage and the concert and the ballgame and then Pittsburgh… did I mention I have NOTHING to wear???

The good news is… my bank account appears to be holding steady. But, I haven’t bought beads, camos, or a new outfit yet. Oy. Ya’ll have a good weekend!

*Friday late afternoon*

Get this… my writing job… the first two weeks, I did one story, this week I did two stories, and you know I’m going to be out after noon on Wednesday and I’m leaving Friday at noon for Pittsburgh, so THIS week they need FOUR stories!!! Three of which I have to go out on interviews. Luckily, I got two of the interviews set up for Wednesday morning, hop-hop, and the other I’m hoping for Tuesday, I can write all of the articles while Stacey drives us to Columbus. Send them all out Thursday morning…. get responses… send in Friday morning… leave for Pittsburgh.

I still need to order beads! I still need a crimping tool and crimp beads! I haven’t beaded today! I need a box! I need my invoice sheets! I NEED A CURE-ALL! (Cure-all = hot shower, massage, hot sex, not necessarily in that order).

Tired of the cold… brrrrrrrr… way too cold for this time of year. We officially had the last day of Fall on Oct. 14th. I think that’s the last time it felt reasonably warm.

Tomorrow is Nate’s Halloween party at school. Let’s all say “YAY” since “The Mouth” is HOMEROOM DAD and guess who gets to help him?  That would be me. Speak of the devil, he just called.

My little furry bat friend is still hanging out in the alcove. I think I’ll name him Wilbur.

A gypsy woman told my fortune
Said I’d be rich someday
She said I’d be king and ruler
In a land of misery and pain
(Chorus)
I’m tired of the rain that’s fallin’
Fallin’ down on me
Please help me find some shelter
From the pain that’s pourin’ on me

You know I been climbin’ this mountain
But it’s too rocky and steep
When I get over this mountain
You know I’ll be set free
I could talk about the gypsy woman and telling fortunes; I could talk about seeking shelter; I could talk about pain; I could talk about the spiritual experience of climbing the mountain, of spinning and spinning in Autumn winds, of raising my hands in the air and being free, but…

This is Nate’s favorite song.

One night when things were bad with his father, he and I were sitting in the car, it’s raining outside, and I had just hung up the cell phone from another round of … drunken howling. I know Nate could hear a lot of what was said, regardless of how much I try to shield him from reality. Hinder was playing and without saying anything, Nate ejects the CD, puts it in its case, and puts BSC in. He hits the “up” button to # 11. As the song started, he said, “This is us.”

Tonight, I asked him why it was his favorite song.

He said, “I have all of this pain falling on me, pouring on me. It’s emotional and physical and commandical (note: that is a Nateism, meaning, being told what to do).”

“Where does the pain come from?”

“Well, emotionally, it’s you and Daddy, physically, it’s Daddy, commandically, it’s both of you.”

“Do I cause you emotional pain, Nate?”

“Mainly that would be Daddy. I just don’t like it when you’re mad at me.” (Fair enough, since I can hurt his feelings by saying he needs to study harder for his next Science test because he didn’t do so well on the last one. I wasn’t even mad.)

“So, does the song make you feel better when you listen to it?”

“Yeah, it does. I feel like someone understands how I feel. Now, Momma, why do you want to know?”

Because I like knowing what’s going on behind those blue eyes. Because I’m constantly stuck between taking you and running away and facing this life down. Because I want to make sure you know you can talk to me and be honest. Because I’m afraid for you. Because you’re so sensitive to things other people ignore. Because I don’t want to hurt you. Because I want to protect you.

“Because I love you.”

So, from the mind and the mouth of a 10 year old…

*Length Warning*

 Violator girl she’s the queen of the world
She stops traffic with a spin and a twirl
Works all day but she lives for the night
She got a thing for the neon lights

(Chorus)
Violator girl
She’s the queen of the world
Violator girl
She’s gonna rock your worldToo hot to handle and ready to rock
This little hen’s got me loaded and cocked
She’s daddy’s girl but she’s mine for tonight
Take a million bucks to keep her satisfied

(Chorus)

This is probably one of the hardest songs for me to write about. In my humble opinion, you either are or are not a Violator Girl. You don’t grow into it, you don’t grow out of it. I’m definitely a Violator Girl. I will always be a Violator Girl. Age means nothing, you just change your form of delivery. For example, I would not be caught dead in a leopard print gold lame’ bra now but… that doesn’t mean I won’t work what I got in other ways.

Violator Girl is not a “phase.” As life dips and weaves, you lose sight of it sometimes and then something, or someone, sparks that “thing” and out comes Violator Girl.

In my life, one instance of that was when I was attempting to have a relationship with someone and since I’m pretty straightforward asked him what the deal was and he said, “Well, you scare me.” WHAT? What a crock of shit! “You’re six feet five, I’m five foot three and a half, how can I scare you?”

“You’re just … intense.”

Oh, whatever. I had to prove him wrong so I called one of my best good guy friends, Troy, who is one of the most laid back individuals you could ever hope to know and has admission privileges to the inner sanctum. And I says, “Troy, DO I SCARE YOU?”

He laughed and asked me what was going on and I told him and he laughs again and says, “Well, yeah, you can be scary.” I protested, loudly, not fully understanding why or how I could be intimidating or scary in the least.

Troy tried to explain and I’m still not sure I buy half of it. He said, “You are you. And you are an intense, very passionate individual and you stand up for things that you believe in. You don’t see the look in your eyes when you’re fired up. You have this undercurrent of… pain and pleasure and as a guy, you dream about it but you’re scared of it. So, yeah, you’re scary in that way. Like you’re going to suck us in and just use us for your wants and needs and then spit us out, which I would like to add, is not a bad thing as far as I’m concerned, chew me up, spit me out, anytime. I’ll try to handle it.”

I’ll accept the whole fired up thing, yes, I am a very passionate individual, won’t lie about it, will admit it readily. But I have no desire to hurt anyone, physically or emotionally, none, but I’m also not going to walk around pretending that I don’t want someone who has the balls to stand up to me, who can meet me toe-to-toe, who has same passion and intensity that I do, not just physically but emotionally.

See, the real problem is, is that I put up or shut up. I’m a flesh and blood individual fully capable of putting my money where my mouth is. But you see, that also pisses me off about guys. Some are incapable of dealing with someone who doesn’t play games. I’m straight up. If I tell you I want to take you home, throw you on my bed, and do lewd and lascivious things to your body, then that’s what I mean. If I tell you I’m not interested, I’m not interested. If I tell you I like you and let’s see what happens, that’s means, I’m interested and let’s see what happens.

And, if I tell you I’m going to call you, I will call you. If I don’t think we click, then I’ll tell you because I’m not gonna waste your time or mine, dodging phone calls or breaking dates or heaven forbid, standing someone up on a date. What it boils down to, is that most peeps don’t have the nerve to be honest. Frankly, its much more embarrassing to be stood up than to be told, “I’m not that into you.”

So, yeah, in that regard, I am very much a Violator Girl and I guess that’s a little scary. And since I’m not afraid to throw a guy down on my bed and do lewd and lascivious things to him and with him and make no bones about it, yeah, I guess that’s a little scary to some guys. Although I haven’t quite figured out why. I swear, men bitch the most about not getting any and then they bitch if you want it too much and then they bitch if you’re bad at it and then they bitch if you’re too good at it. I’ve been called, “INSATIABLE” and I shall wear that as a badge of honor.

Yes, I love the night, I love the neon lights, I love to dance and sing, I love to live and I’m a bit wicked, a bit on the intense side, a bit passionate, a bit sexual, okay, maybe more than “a bit” on those last four, but, I’m a VIOLATOR GIRL damnit, its what we do, its how we live! Its not just about sex or love or relationships or even beauty, it’s about LIFE! Its about happiness, and joy, and excitement and we want everyone to feel it just like we do. We want to suck you into it, we want to share it, because when you share it, it grows, and people smile and their happy. This is not bad.

Why do you think I’m writing this whole series? For my health? No, it’s because I want to draw you into my world. It’s not a perfect world, but its a happy world and its an excited world, complex at times, I’ll admit, but mainly, I just want to share something that makes me happy in hopes it may rub off on you.

But, just remember, Violator Girls still want the same things that every other girl wants. We just want someone to share that with, someone who understands that when a Violator Girl finds her man, she only wants to violate him. That when she’s off spinning and twirling, she still looks for him at the end of every song, because she’s dancing for him as much as she is for herself.

Maybe Troy was right. And maybe its hard to write about it because I don’t like admitting it and why I don’t like admitting it is a whole other story. If you want that story, you’ll have to ask for it.

*Side note*

I wrote this on Monday because I knew I would be busy this week. Oddly, yesterday, I saw the UPS man that I had gone out with a few times before. We didn’t really click, wanted different things, and we were both straight up so we’re free to flirt and tease when we see each other. This little bat, yes, a real live furry bat, has taken up residence in the alcove of my building. I find this utterly fascinating and I showed the UPS man and he asked if I was afraid. I said, “No, it’s just a bat.”

He said, “You’re not afraid of anything, are you?”

I said, “I’m afraid of losing my son.”

He nodded and said, “True that.” (He has a son too) Then he turns and says, “You know, I’m only afraid of one other thing…”

“Oh, really, what’s that?” Like I didn’t know the answer.

“You.”

How ODD that I wrote that and then he say that. Of course, I protested, throwing my hands in the air like, WTF? He winked and said, “Well, you know, in THAT way.” As if he has ANY idea… I walked away humming…

Violator Girl she’s the queen of the world…

I get to skip “Shapes of Things” because its a cover of an old Yardbirds tune. I still like what they did with it though.

I walked into a restaurant over the weekend and found myself singing along with “Tom Sawyer” by Rush while waiting for my food. The counter guy seemed quite impressed that I knew the lyrics. Please. I’ve been singing that song for 25 years. That’s right. “Tom Sawyer” was released in 1981 on their “Moving Pictures” album.

Now Rushites, or those as fanatical about Rush as Trekkies are for Star Trek, will debate about whether “Signals” was better or worse than “Moving Pictures” and yada yada. I don’t care. “Subdivisions” was on “Signals” and therefore it is a totally awesome album just like “Moving Pictures” is. I don’t care about whatever. I care about whether I make an emotional connection to the song and the music.

Then they’ll discuss whether or not Rush “sold out” at some point when they made this or that album. Well, whatever. “Presto” is and will forever remain my absolute favorite Rush album. I’m also quite fond of “Counterparts.” But “Presto,” I love it. Nobody can sing about lions hunting in the Serengeti night quite like Geddy Lee and Co. That’s from “Scars.” I just think it’s a kick ass album and it’s full of imagery and magic.

Did you know “Rush” did a cover of “Shapes of Things” too? Now ya do! I bet you thought I couldn’t tie Rush into BSC, didn’t ya? WRONG!

Ya know, my birthday is coming up soon… and I could use the CD version of “Presto.” Just sayin’…

Oh, and my friend Cybele posted some lyrics from “Blue Morning, Blue Day” by Foreigner. I don’t think Foreigner ever did a Yardbirds cover although they’re listed as an influence of their music. Just to make some of you feel old, or way too young, Foreigner’s debut album was released in 1977. Remember “Cold as Ice,” “Long, Long Way From Home,” and “Feels Like the First Time?” 1977. “Hot Blooded,” “Dirty White Boy,” “Head Games,” “Double Vision,” 1978 to 1979. I remember because my mother was a HUGE Foreigner fan. Back then, we played them on 8 track. Yep.

And then we could go back further to her vinyl collection of The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Peter, Paul & Mary, John Denver, Simon & Garfunkel, I think she had an Elvis or two, Perry Como, and The Bee Gees Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. I played the hell out of The Beatles (A Hard Day’s Night), John Denver (Poems, Prayers & Promises), Simon & Garfunkel (Bridge Over Troubled Water), and of course, The Bee Gees, because Saturday Night Fever kicked ass, although I wasn’t allowed to watch it. She had more but I can’t remember all of them… oh yeah, Mack Davis and Charlie Pride. Of course, I started assembling my vinyl in the form of Rod Stewart, Fleetwood Mac, KISS, and Duran Duran. Shut up. I love Duran Duran. Did then, do now. Shut up.

And don’t get me started on Journey and Styx and Aerosmith, oh my. Did any of you catch the newest Styx album, the one with the big carrot on the front? Cyclorama? That album kicked ass!!! A lot of good music on that CD. Some anthem type songs but if you’re in the mood, you’re in the mood. And, I guess I’m the only person on the planet who prefers Tommy Shaw any day to Dennis DeYoung. I know, pure blasphemy! GASP! The horror! Down with thee!

SUCK IT! I LIKE TOMMY SHAW! Is Damn Yankees ever going to get back together??? I saw them once, front row center. Those were the days when you camped out for concert tickets and it was BLUE FUCKING COLD and I had bronchitis but I slept in me sleeping bag on the cold hard concrete and I was rewarded with FRONT ROW CENTER TICKETS. Jackyl and Slaughter were supporting them. WOW. Just WOW. I believe that was the last time I wore a leopard print gold lame’ bra. Let’s all heave a sigh of relief. Oh, and no, I wasn’t wearing a shirt over it either, just a leather jacket which got draped over the barricade to prevent unsightly scratches. That may have contributed to Jack Blades throwing those handcuffs at me. He must have had quite the vantage point of my bosoms. Hey, a girl works what she’s got.

Violator Girl she’s the queen of the world, she’s stops traffic with a spin and a twirl, works all day but she lives for the night, she’s got a thing for the neon lights… Violator Girl…Guess what’s next?

I posted over at MySpace yesterday and I was too lazy to post it here and upload pics, so ya’ll can meander over there and check it out if you so desire. Http://www.myspace.com/nannerpeach.  And since I don’t feel like changing names around and if you read my MySpace blog you know that AZ’s real name is Steve. And if you didn’t, well, you do now.

* It snowed today. SNOW! Not drizzle frizzle sorta snow, but SNOW! What? It’s not even NOVEMBER yet! Nate said, “Momma, we may have a white Christmas.” I said, “Dude, we have a white Halloween.” Wind chill is 33 degrees! Brrrrrr….

* However, it is hunting season. Yes, I am hunter. I’m sorry if you think killing Bambi is wrong. Killing Bambi controls population and disease. I don’t squirrel hunt unless my parents want some because I can’t stand the smell of it cooking and I hate the taste of it, so, Rocky is safe around me. I do have Bullwinkle’s antlers in my living room though. My mom is not into the “rustic” look, think more Martha Stewart. When my Grandpa died I inherited my father’s relics from his time in Alaska with the Army, namely, Bullwinkle’s antlers and a bear rug, with snarling face and all. Sadly, where it had hung on my Grandpa’s wall for … 30 or so years, it had dry-rotted. Nate hangs stockings from Bullwinkle’s antlers during Yuletide.

Anyway, last year, I couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn. The year before that the strap on my gun broke and it went barrel down in the copious amounts of mud I sloshed through. I was on my way back to the farm to clean the barrel when… yeah, out steps this GORGEOUS 8 POINT and I’m standing there with mud in my barrel. Yes, there was a fleeting moment when I thought, “It’s only mud… and that’s an eight point buck.” Whoever said “discretion is the better part of valor” can suck my rosy nipples.

I’ll post more about my experiences, thoughts, and comments about hunting later. Some are quite humourous.

* Did I misspell Faberge’ in my last post? I think I did. I hate that cuz I’m a geek!

I know your hiding places
I know your every move
Cus’ girl I’ve been lonely too
I’ve seen a million faces
Been to a million places
But girl there’s no one quite like you
(Chorus)
And I’d walk through hell and high-water
Wash away with the tide
I could lose a damn war all by myself
If you were on the other side
So in the morning when the rooster crows
Pack your bags and get ready to go
If you’re walking through hell and high-water
Please don’t do it aloneI know you feel let down
I know you’ve been turned out
I wish I’d been there for youWhen the night-time comes around
And you feel like an un-lit town
Just know I’ll be there for you

It’s nice to know that somewhere in the world, someone knows the places you hide, the things you do when life is not so good, and they don’t let you languish alone, even if they can’t be right by your side. Sometimes it is really enough to know they would be there, if they could.

One of my greatest personality flaws is my inability to let people into my inner sanctum. People who read my writing probably have a better window into me, the real me, than my everyday acquaintances. It’s very hard for me to lean on people in time of crisis. I’m very much a hermit. I may write about it, but getting me to talk about it, verbally, one to one, I’ve been told, can be a frustrating ordeal. It goes back to “When the Weight Comes Down” and “Shooting Star.” You can want very much to have someone there for you, and not know how to reach out for it.

I know in my case, I have had my hand smacked quite viscously a few times and it also goes back to, it’s not really that you may not trust them, but don’t trust yourself. It takes a lot of courage to be vulnerable and I admire people for that. Frankly, I suck at it.

Every so often, my friend T-Bird reminds me, “You know, I like to feel like more than a place for you to watch football, sleep on the couch, and eat. It’s nice to feel needed sometimes beeotch!” She can say that, she watched me squeeze my son out. She also knows when shit is bad, I watch football, and sleep on her couch and I eat, cuz I like food. Told ya’ll that. (If it’s not football season, her old man and I drive her crazy by watching non-stop Behind the Music on VHI or “When KISS Ruled the World” or she joins us in watching any variation of “Law & Order” while yelling at the kids to stop bouncing off the walls) She very gently reminds me by a swift kick in the ass that my friends can be there as much for me as I am for them.

I would also like to take up for myself and remind HER that other than having Nate, I have lived by myself for over 11 years, except for that one year or so of insanity which was worse than living alone, and you don’t get sick days or vacation days when its just you. You do, or you die. My parents live about an hour away, and for most of Nate’s younger years, she lived in Detroit. Not exactly like I could step out of my door and be there in five minutes. My brother lives 2 1/2 hours away, Beanie lived in Philly, and Steve was engaged. Were it not for the gentle persuasion of my neighbors at the time, I may have gone stark raving mad since Nate didn’t sleep for the first two years of his life, I worked full-time, sometimes overtime, and there were still times Nate ate and I didn’t.

That’s the way it was. I did, or we died. There’s a lot of side things that go into that about Nate’s dad and my parents etc. etc. But, it doesn’t mean anything now, other than, it’s a very hard habit to get out of. And let’s not forget those lingering abandonment issues. (Yes, I’m well aware of my issues) I admitted this to Steve recently and he said, “You know, you need to work on letting people in your life.” I responded, “Maybe it would help if people stuck around a little longer.” Touche’

This is too long and I’m rambling. I guess I could have just said, “This song reminds me that it’s okay to let people in.”

Ooops, it appears I forgot to post!

I’ve seen your evil ways
And your corrupting mind
Lay the hourglass over
So we don’t waste our timeNow throw your burdens out
And throw your heart to me
I don’t know what’ll come
We’ll have to wait and see

One of the great things about Black Stone Cherry is Chris Robertson’s amazing voice. Amazing. I would have never guessed he was only 20 years old when this was recorded. For this song, it’s not just the memories it roots up but also the passion of the song, especially live. I could write a whole book on “now throw your burdens out/and throw your heart to me,” not just those who wished I would do it, but those I wish would do it. It’s like a game of mousetrap. Every action has a reaction, the ball has to fit in the cup which tips the seesaw which pulls the string, on and on. If one element fails, the whole thing fails.

Lex, my ex-boyfriend, was a shooting star. For years, we passed like ships in the night. I often referred to him as a phantom, appearing and disappearing in the blink of an eye. I would gather the courage to speak to him, turn, and he would be gone. He said he thought I was, “cold.” He had to take that back.

I remember us talking about tattoos and I said, “I have one,” and he said, “I know.” I thought back to the moments when he may have seen as it is situated on my left hip. Since our intimate moments at that time numbered exactly one, I remembered very clearly what had happened, and none it involved him inspecting my left hip.

“How?”

“I saw it.”

“When?”

“When you got up to shut the window and blow out the candle.” Yes, I had done that. I wasn’t used to having another body in the bed with me and I had slept lightly, enough that the train that runs by my house woke me. I got up, buck nekkid, shut the window and blew out the candle. Given how my bed was situated at the time and the fact my windows can be a bitch to close quietly, yeah, I figure he got a pretty good look at that tattoo… not to mention the rest of me. *Shrug* I was much more comfortable being naked than he was. (Guys have body image issues too… just so ya know)

When I asked why he didn’t let me know he was awake, he said he liked watching me.

After things went south, I wondered if it was just me he didn’t trust, or all women, and from our subsequent conversations determined it was neither. He didn’t trust himself not to lose himself in love.

It’s hard to watch the star fall away from you, but, I know it’s just as hard to be the star.

So much negativity, it must cease! It was another rough day at the office and I’m fed up. Time to break out the headphones and MY music, not that hip-hop/dance/techno/pop stuff anymore! I have an appreciation for all music but I really do prefer MY music - Black Stone Cherry, something by Hinder besides “Lips of an Angel,” something other than “Photograph” by Nickelback (like any other song on the CD), a little W.A.S.P., H.I.M., or even John Mellencamp. I didn’t want to bring my headphones because I work in the same room with three other people and I think it’s rude. I’ve gotten over that.

Today it was either leave, slit my wrists, or commit murder, so I left, and not a moment too soon. I don’t see how these peeps have survived this long with their negative, dreary, complaining outlook on the world. (I just misspelled “world” as “wold” and spell check didn’t catch it, so, being the geek I am, I had to go look it up. “Wold” appears to be an obsolete variation of “will” but is also an elevated tract of open country or moor and is used in England, and is also a variation of “weld”. You just gained a brain cell.)

Anyway, I’m done with the negativity. It’s beginning to affect MY outlook and I can’t say I’m happy about that at all. Life is hard enough without pointing out everyday how hard it can be. Now, where are my headphones?

I am just a man of blood and bone
And simple means
That old bossman works my body long and hard
But on the weekends you know I’m free
(Chorus)
Got me a crosstown woman
Got me under her spell
Got me a crosstown woman
She’s like my heaven with a whole lot of hell

There comes a time in a blogger’s Internet life where they have to decide how much to write and what to leave for the imagination. While I’m not old, I’m old enough to understand the far reaching ramifications of being someone’s “Crosstown Woman.” You think it might just be a for a little while, that spark, that need to see each other, the need to hear the other’s voice, that need to just be together. Sometimes it doesn’t end but it doesn’t begin either. It just is.

I’ve been accused of putting men under a “spell.” HA! If someone doesn’t want to be with me for who I am, then I’m certainly not going to waste good magick on trying to convince them. Me thinks some people don’t like to be responsible for their own actions and have to blame it on something else. I will admit though to using a bit of mojo to keep them away. Sometimes “no” needs a little help.

I’m sitting here thinking of things I could admit to, but won’t. Just use your imagination as to what “spell,” what “voodoo,” you would want your Crosstown Woman to use on you. And if you’re a woman, you already know what I’m talking about.