I'm definitely in a manic phase.
You'd think I would recognize this coming on after so many years of dealing with my shifting moods, but I'm stunned each and every time I realize that my antsy, eager, fun-loving state amounts to no more than the pleasant but short-lived coming on of craziness. It's so strange that after 20 years of living with my brain that I still have trouble accepting the fact that the doctors are right and I really do have an "issue." I spend so much of my time using logic to control my moods (usually with a better degree of success than any med I've ever been on) that when I get to a place in my head that I can't get out of I'm always taken my surprise.


Last night I:

Drank a bunch of wine and remained pretty much unaffected (another symptom of mania - I feel no buzz till I hit the floor.)

Roasted a chicken.

Took a handful of herbal relaxants and was knocked into a coma, only to emerge a couple of hours later full of piss and vinegar once again.

Thought about a million thoughts and fantasized about a million different things.

Made my poor husband go through the alphabet playing the word game with me in the wee hours of the morning. A-Z all the attributes that describe me and then A-Z all the attributes that do not. Then I played the game alone, first using him and several other people I know as the subjects of the game, and then inventing two imaginary people: One the crappiest person I could imagine, the other the finest. This actually kept me occupied until I was able to doze for an hour or two (before the alarm went off and I woke up freezing to death.)

Deleted every one of the thousands of albums on my hard drive.
I am SO ANGRY WITH MYSELF this morning. It seemed like such a good idea until they were irretrievably gone. I felt overwhelmed with the sheer volume of stuff I had that I started getting nervous, so I decided to "start fresh." I am a compulsive fresh-starter, as a matter of fact. I once took my entire closet to Goodwill because I felt like starting over on my wardrobe. I have gotten rid of thousands of my treasured books because I wanted to start my collection over again. This is probably the fiftieth edition of my Blog (which will likely one day vanish as I pursue yet another fresh start.) And this is at least the third time I've dumped my entire hard drive. I am so, so stupid. What on earth goes through my head?

militant, beheading, burning, control
jihad, deteriorating, offensive
force, worrisome, tension, attack
dangerous, suicide, fears
unsafe, infect, frustration
corpse, killed, decimated


Here are just a few words I pulled from a cursory glance at today's world news.

Our world has been going to hell in a handbasket for as long as I can remember, but these days the state of things has gotten so bad that people simply cannot bring themselves to care. We rarely even make small talk about the countless daily worldwide tragedies...we just grip our glasses or smokes or pipes (or all three)a little tighter. We ignore, because to care is to go insane with our inability to stop this runaway train. We build our nests a little bigger, shinier, more comfortable, insulating ourselves from the horror outside. We swallow things, go places, play games, talk, fight, screw, sleep.....all to make the smiles come a little easier. We laugh to keep from screaming. We run fast, faster, faster to keep from falling on our faces, knowing that each day is lived one stumble away from the kind of collapse that may snap our minds completely.


Soundtrack for this afternoon:
Nick Cave
Cat Power

Ants in my pants.
Ants in my pants.
Ants in my pants.

There's a fine line that divides exuberant and frantic.
Today I've crossed that line.

I'm the motherflippin' rhymenocerous...

Things I like about today:

This beautiful rainy weather.
Having absolutely nothing that I "have" to do!
My bed. My wonderful bed.
The book in the picture....best thing I've read all year.
McDonald's sweet tea. I hate admitting this, but it's great.
Having my whole body scratched with a fork (every nerve comes alive, I promise.)
The fact that I'm not hungover in spite of drinking a bunch last night.
My big black dog who is the best snuggler on earth.
Being dirty (literally, no bath for me today!) and running around half-dressed.
Mint Chocolate Cookie ice cream (I eat junk the day after drinking alot. Always.)
Deangelo Williams. He is a joy.


Things I don't like about today:

I have a little stomach ache.
Dreading work tomorrow (I'm such a lover of leisure...it's pathetic.)
Feeling fat because I ate too much junk.
My dad called & he makes me uncomfortable.
One of my good friends' grandmother died...I am very sad for him.
Rainy weather brings filthy, muddy doggy footprints all over the house.

PS: The ad that keeps playing for Carson Daley's New Years Eve celebration is just a nightmare. The bands couldn't be any worse, and I hate, hate, hate Carson Daley (is that even how you spell the idiot's name?) I wouldn't watch that crap unless I was paid handsomely and then would likely retch the whole way through. It doesn't matter anyway....I can't remember the last time I watched TV on New Year's Eve. Great music, friends, and champagne is more my speed for this particular holiday.

PSS: I despise Faith Hill and that football song she sings before the 8 o'clock game is completely retarded. I hope Joan Jett is getting paid, but I am upset at her for selling out the only good song she ever wrote. (Her only other worthwhile song is "Crimson and Clover," which is a cover.) I wanted to look like Joan Jett when I was a little girl. I guess in a way, in a certain light, if you squint your eyes a little, I sort of do....sometimes.

I am so excited!
I know the answer to my relationship dilemma from three posts ago!
I am damaged and strange and thus I attract others who are damaged and strange!

Damaged, strange people behave in bizarre ways that cannot always be predicted, therefore you cannot expect them to always play nice. It's a little like opening a dog park just for rescues....the fear-aggression, pissing on one other, and confusion about just where they fit into the pack would be rampant. This is the situation of my life and my friends. We are not your typical nice, normal people (though we are certainly are nice) who play by the rules like good sheep.

The fact that I very rarely find myself embroiled in altercations with others stems directly from my crushingly sensitive sense of empathy. The mere thought of hurting someone horrifies me, therefore any pain I cause others is completely accidental (with the exception of my husband, who seems to be my go-to-guy when I get in a shitty mood....thanks, honey.) I am very good to my friends. I love people - in spite of most of their flaws - with great devotion and deep investment.

That said, I am stubborn beyond reason and have no capacity to tolerate being treated disrespectfully. My empathy ends abruptly the second I feel mistreated. My thorniest side is my ability to kick to the curb, too quickly, those who do not treat me well (regardless of how much I love them.) It's the self-preservation instinct gone terribly awry. I am indeed one of the rescues in my imaginary dog park. I have great integrity and can be counted on to be kind, honest, generous, and a whole lot more happy horseshit. Just don't make the error of being ugly to me. I am neither tooting my own horn nor denigrating myself....this character assessment is fact and nothing more.

The definition of "good" is a slippery slope.
Maybe the slipperiest slope of all.
I'm both a good (and awful) person. It is in my nature to be unforgiving. I grit my teeth and try to force forgiveness sometimes, but the end result is rarely good. I simply have no capacity to let injustice against me go. And personally, I think my friends who scrap like crazy, act like morons sometimes, but then forgive in an instant have a true advantage over me in the "good person" department.

I just happen to never growl or bite first.

I feel guilty and responsible.
I am an idiot.

I have an old hippie friend who is in his 60's and looks like Jerry Garcia and Santa Claus' love child. He has heart trouble, and I keep expecting him to just keel over dead one fine day (hopefully not while he's eating or drinking in my store.) He loves my cooking and comes in daily for lunch, always choosing the healthiest option in an attempt to thwart the grim reaper. He is a smart man, a good person, and he is very lonely. He is also an alcholic who was told by his doctor that he absolutely cannot drink alcohol or he will die. This is a fact I did not know when I invited him to join our Beer Club a few months ago. As a matter of fact, I cheerfully told him in no uncertain terms that his doctor was out of the loop, that up to two beers a day (for men) has been scientifically proven to be good for ones heart. So....he broke 3 years of sobriety at my urging.

Now, he is Beer Club's most dedicated member and one of my store's best beer-buying customers. He is very much exceeding the 2 drink a day rule I suggested to him, unless he happens to be giving an awful lot of beer away, which I doubt. At our last beer club he spent over 60.00 on beer (even though we gave away 6 generous tastings for free) and drank almost all of it before the night was through.

I cannot express the horror I feel at my piss-poor lack of judgment!
This nice, nice man has been thrown off the wagon by my stupid ass. My big, fat mouth is responsible for potentially hastening his demise and returning him to the drug that almost killed him in the first place. I'm having alot of trouble with the fact that I cannot undo this. I tried talking to him about it, checking in with how he's doing on our 2-a-day guidelines and he brushed me off and said he's having the time of his life (getting drunk alone at home....wheeeee!)

Even one of my probably-alcoholic, party-loving friends (who has shown no desire whatsoever to recover) said that I did a bad, bad thing by getting this poor man drinking again.

My God, what have I done?

Nine people killed by Santa.
A little girl shot in the face as she happily opens the door for "Old Saint Nick."
Three children lost their mother on the most wonderful night of the year (a wonderful night for kids, anyway.) Scores more people remain traumatized beyond my wildest comprehension, some sedated, ignorning the loads of presents that will bring their recipients no happiness this year. I am so very, very sad for the children and family members for whom Christmas will never again be a joyful holiday and instead will bring nightmares and horrible memories and grief for the rest of their lives.

How could this man have done such a thing?
I am a pretty pragmatic girl who honestly understands (but, for the record, doesn't necessarily approve of) the killing of someone you hate. I even understand an occasional killing of someone you love. I understand killing a stranger or two in a moment of confusion (such as in an armed robbery situation.) But spending months plotting the slaughter of a (former) loved one's friends and family members, including children, on Christmas Eve? And choosing to do it dressed like Santa Claus? I just cannot understand this, no matter how many dark and twisted corridors I take my psyche down in search of the tiny grains of sense that can often be found in even the most awful tragedy. I can manifest at least a bit of compassion for many of the world's most depraved serial killers. But I find none for this guy. Not by a mile.

People sometimes behave in ways contrary to the person you thought they were. Often this makes me very sad and disappointed. As cynical as I imagine myself to be, I never fail to be surprised when ugly behavior erupts from the people I've grown to love. I am very fortunate to be very, very rarely the target of anyone's meanness. I am grateful that my friends seem to know that I love them and they respond in kind (mostly.) But to see them go at each other is difficult and it has happened lately more than I would like.

I guess I need to reevaluate my relationships and what part I play in these given situations. Am I stupid for expecting people (who I believe are GOOD people) to be kind to one another, respectful, nonjudgmental, kind in word and deed? My biggest prayer is to have a heart of integrity and genuine kindness that transcends all moments of sobriety, insecurity, drunkenness, sickness, fear, jealousy, and anger.

Jesus asked us simply to love others.
Why do we humans have such a hard time doing that?

this is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time ~ fight club


I called in depressed to work today. Of course I said I was sick - which I am - but in that different kind of way that employers won't admit to understanding, despite the fact that they've most likely made the same weary call themselves from time to time....

I am drinking wine at 11:45 AM, which is a record for me (if you don't count the day of the Grateful Dead show many years ago when a dear friend and I cracked a bottle at daybreak.)

I am tired of being the kind of girl who pursues pleasure as a vocation.
I am tired of always being broke because of the above.
I am tired of completely wearing out everyone who dares to love me.
I am tired of Christmas Music. Good Lord, am I tired of Christmas Music.
I am tired of being bored and dissatisfied.
I am tired of lacking the motivation to handle the fact that I've gotten quite fat.
I am tired of the voice in my head that tells me how shitty I am 17+ hours a day.
I am tired of people I care for being diagnosed with cancer.
I am tired of getting old (already...wow...)
I am tired of sailing a sinking ship.
I am tired of being self-absorbed.
I am tired of my mind not working right.
I am tired of not being able to do anything about the fact that my mind doesn't work right.
I am tired of Layne Staley and my papaw being dead.
I am tired of drinking and never getting "there."


I've spent my day listening to songs on my hard drive that begin with the letter "C." I've been listening for the last 3 hours. So far, the best of these are:

Camel - Flying Lotus
Caroline Says II - Lou Reed
Caroline's Fingers - Cocteau Twins
Cartwheels - Patti Smith
Cato as a Pun - Of Montreal
Cause Cheap is How I Feel - Cowboy Junkies
Chuy - Bunky

These truly great songs constitute 26.3 minutes worth of play (almost 15%.) Which leaves 153.7 mins (just over 85%) worth of other songs I waded through to get to the good stuff. This is the problem with music in general....even among bands that are the best of their collective genres, most songs are adequate at best.

Add to this the fact that I deleted 55.12 minutes of truly sucky songs - those that were so awful that a second listen was impossible. (This is a disheartening nearly 31%!) This means that even among GOOD bands, there are over twice as many suck-ass songs as there are good ones.

This leaves 98.58 minutes (or almost 55%) of "just okay."

I honestly believe that this ratio can directly relate to everything else in our lives. TV. Books. Relationships. Work. Everything. This formula (fact) should be taught in every elementary school so that our precious, idealistic kids don't get the wrong idea about what to expect from life, thus turning them into the same cynical, disillusioned adults their parents have come to be.

Psychiatric Christmas Carols

Schizophrenia: Do You Hear What I Hear?

Multiple Personality Disorder: We Three Kings Disoriented Are...

Dementia: I'll Be Home For Christmas... Where Do I Live?

Narcissism: Hark! The Herald Angels Sing About Me!

Mania: Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and
Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Buses and Trucks and Trees
and Fire Hydrants and.... We Need More Holly!

Paranoia: Santa Claus is Coming to Get Me.

Personality Disorder (Severe Insecurity): You Better Watch Out, I'm
Gonna Cry, I'm Gonna Pout, Maybe I'll Tell You Why (But If You Loved
Me You Would Know Already).

Depression: Silent Anhedonia, Holy Anhedonia, All is Flat, All is Lonely.

Passive-Aggressive Personality: On The First Day of Christmas My
True Love Gave To Me (and then took it all away).

Borderline Personality Disorder: Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire.

Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder: Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle
Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,
Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle
Bells...(better start again)

Wow....it's been awhile since I've posted anything.  
Actually it feels like it's been awhile since my brain last functioned.   

I've been busy working - alternately loving my job and wanting to strangle my boss (whom I love dearly in spite of her insanity.)  We went on vacation - 9 days to Orlando that went by in a flash and took every cent of our money.  We have 12.00 to our name right now.  Seriously.  My dad is busy dying and trying to remain optimistic that he'll beat the overwhelming odds against him and live a little longer.  I'm trying not to have a personal breakdown.....my little mental problem is definitely in depress mode right now and I am fighting it for all I'm worth.  The best I can do is just go numb and be a walking robot.  I guess it's better than crying and getting angry about everything.  I just miss the feeling of joy.  Daughter is pregnant.  Yes, that's right.  Pregnant.  And today there were four (count 'em, four) black eyed peas sneakily mixed in with my bag of frozen lima beans.  What is the world coming to?

All that said, I'm grateful for my husband who thinks I'm completely beautiful and amazing, even though I know he is far beyond delusional.  For my son, who is may well be the loveliest, smartest, kindest creature ever born....he acquired all the very best of what Jon and I had to offer, it seems.  For my mom, who is bravely facing old(er) age and growing old alone without falling to pieces (and whom I love in spite of....well, alot of things.)  For my neices and the sweet smiles and giggles and innocence that remind me that my daughter's situation isn't necessarily the end of the world.  For my friends, the whole bizarre mismatched bunch of them.  For the gift of music....life would be colorless without it.  And for my little family's good physical health, as I watch a friend who is younger than me wither away before my eyes from cancer, a three year old whose parents face a scan every three months to let them know if the deadly brain cancer has returned, and yet another friend bury her 38 year old ex-husband and loving father of their sweet daughter from the same damned thing.  Plus, it killed my beloved grandfather (my favorite person) and it's working hard at killing my dad.  I hate cancer....the way it steals and kills in an agonizingly painful way and removes so many from this world in an untimely manner.

I'm going now to swallow both some lima beans, four brave black-eyed peas who defied their fate somehow, and the terrible lump in my throat that has seemed to be a permanent fixture of late.  It's okay, though, for tomorrow is another day (says Scarlett) and no matter how gray life gets for us sometimes things could always, always be worse.

Reading Noam Chomsky's "Language and Politics" upon the advice of several friends.  They kept telling me that he is someone who thinks like me.  Turns out that he pretty much does.  Or I guess I should stop being a megalomaniac and admit that I think like him, since he's older and smarter than I am.  Funny how similar two minds can be when I've never even heard or read his views before.  Politically I've just made up my own mind about how things should be as I've lived and thought and learned, being constantly dissatisfied with pretty much everyone in government.  I've always known I was a Socialist at heart.  It's confirmed without a doubt now.

That said, now who should I vote for in this damned looming election????  Ugh.  I've waited too long to take advantage of the easy early voting, unfortunately.  Now I get to go and wait in the freezing cold for an hour or two to help elect (as if my vote really counts....) someone who I don't particularly trust or want in office to begin with.  Ugh.

Oh well.  Enough thinking about the political machine.  It's Halloween!  My favorite holiday!  This year I get to spend it working (joy!) instead of taking my scary little Meathead trick-or-treating. I am a thousand times bummed about this.  It's breaking my heart.  

Girl Talk.
I don't care for the CDs, but I sure like the party!

I do not wish to be embalmed.
I have a better plan.

To be embalmed is to be....
Bathed and disinfected by someone I don't know.  Joints bent and broken to relieve rigor mortis, so I can be posed in a restful sleeping position.  Mouth held shut by sutures, so it doesn't fly open at an inopportune time and scare the shit out of some poor fool at the "viewing."  
There will be many embalming chemicals pumped in to replace my blood, and then my whole body will be vigorougsly massaged to ensure proper distribution of said fluids (so I don't burst wide open and make a mess, God forbid.)  Then, all my organs will be vacuumed out through a hole in my belly, which is then corked up so I don't leak.
Finally, the spa treatment.....make up and hair done, etc. so everyone can file by at my final party and exclaim, "She looks so BEAUTIFUL!  So LIFELIKE!"  Dear God, is there anything in this world stupider than that particular phrase?

By the way....there's something very, very strange about people's reaction to seeing a corpse.
I'm sorry, but dead bodies are not beautiful (except to the necromantics among us), or peaceful, or lifelike.  They are simply dead. The special kind of "lovely wind" that made them your beloved wife/lover/mother/friend has exited the building, and it shows.  

Anyhow.....the coffin lid is shut, you get to lead the parade of cars as V.I.P for the day, which sounds okay, even though you don't get to look out the window during the ride and enjoy feeling like Queen Elizabeth as you observe all but the rudest members of the county stop driving and wait for your parade to pass by.  On the other hand, there's even a real-live LIMO for your lucky nearest and dearest to ride in! And they, being still breathing, can revel in the celebrity on the way to the graveyard.  "Once more around the block, please?"  Finally, you find your destiny - taking up some of the earth's precious real estate as you and your fancy box lie 6 feet underground, rotting away slowly - fingernails and hair still a-growing - as family members (might) make the pilgrimage to decorate the grass above with flowers on your birthday.  Flowers that will either be (1) tacky and plastic or (2) dead in a month.

Have hope, my friends!  This atrocity need not be!
You may choose to have an at-home funeral.  Families have far more rights to do whatever they want to do with their loved ones bodies than most people realize.  Coffins may be purchased online for a mere fraction of what a funeral home will charge.  Caskets are marked up tremendously.   A $3,500 casket generally costs the "home" about $700.  That is evil business, in my opinion, fleecing grieving people out of their money like that......preying on sad people's misplaced and pointless desire to give their dead loved one "the best going away party money can buy!"

Personally, I want my "good" organs (the ones that may be useful in saving the lives of others) taken out via scalpel.  Then burn the rest....in a cheap canvas bag or a pine box.  Give my ashes first to my husband, who is under strict orders to keep me by his bed and talk to me every night, and then, later, to my children, who will wonder what on earth they should do with me after my husband has joined me in death.  Imagining S & E puzzling over what to do with our ashes is a source of mirth to me, I must admit.  To me, this end is so much more dignified and normal than what our society traditionally does to our loved ones remains.

So.....for the hundred billionth time in my life, I am spending a few minutes pondering this whole funeral tradition thing and wonder what in the hell is WRONG with the status quo.

I know many people who are in trouble right now.  Quite a few of them pulling their money out of the bank.....dumping their stocks, etc.  I know a man who chose to empty his (sizeable) accounts and purchase gold.  The homosapien personal preservation instinct may end up leading us directly into another depression.  My mom has lost $16,000 out of her retirement investment plan in the last year alone.  Her job is on the chopping block.  She is cashing in alot of her accounts to pay off her mortgage early so she won't be in threat of losing her home in case the shit really does hit the fan.  She's scared.  I know several other people who are also facing employment/financial insecurity.  

These are serious times, and after watching the Presidential debates thus far, I must be frank and say that I find no redeemer on the TV screen.   I don't think Obama has a real plan for the economy....it appears that he hasn't thought much past securing the Presidency.  If he has a plan, he certainly has been unable to communicate it clearly thus far.  I think McCain has very decisive plans, many of which are not foolish plans at all.  The problems is that all of his plans will likely be stalemated by his Republican cabinet/advisors who all pretty much hate him and his "maverick" ideals.  Add to that the fact that he is old as dirt and in poor health and his runner up is the most nationally clueless, unqualified soccer mom-slash-politician he could've possibly chosen.  Nope.  We're screwed.

So far, my little family is marching along as we always do....broke, but not too broke.....one crisis or busted pipe away from being in serious trouble.....trying not to let the love of or fear of or lack of money ruin the fact that life is a great thing that should always, always be enjoyed.  Right now we are saving money as quickly as possible, because our vacation - taking our son to Disney World - is right around the corner.  This particular trip will cost as much as a reliable used car. Ugh.  But our son is obsessed with Disney and he is growing up so very fast.  And we love the weird little fellow.  Alot.  So, we will keep on living our lives a step at a time.  I guess there will be plenty of time to worry when the food runs out.

Lou Reed's "Coney Island Baby" is a truly excellent song.
For those of you not familiar with the song, it's well worth the .99 download fee from I-Tunes.
Or you could always go the clandestine route, for all you junkies out there.  Wink wink.  

Well, the hurricane ploy worked.   Many Americans are now scared shitless and missing work because there is no gas to be found.  The two counties around my house are dry as a bone.  
We have enough gas in our cars to get to and from work tomorrow, but then we'll be sitting.  It won't kill me to spend a few days (or a few more) at home, waiting out the crisis.  
A friend of mine whose brain I respect just said, "I'm not worried about it.  They're just holding us hostage.  There's plenty of oil."  I agree.  

But who is responsible???  Is our own government doing this to us, and if so, why pull something that is likely to throw us into a full-scale recession?  Are other countries (the oil ones) finally getting sick of the US and deciding to sit on all the oil and make us squirm?  I honestly don't know enough about the situation to comment, and the more I read and watch and try to learn about it, the more I realize that all the information out there is nothing but pure propaganda.

One day our country will see a(nother) real revolution.
I'll probably be alive to see it.

This album blew me away today.  It's amazing.  
Melancholy, a little tense, simultaneously hopeful and hopeless.  
Wow.

I cannot think of anything sadder than being picked off by a serial sniper.  
Becoming the victim of a regular serial killer, messy as the death might be, at least allows you a screaming, kicking chance.  Being shot dead as you gas up the car or push your grocery cart across the parking lot may be a faster way to die, but it doesn't give you the opportunity to look into the killer's eyes and choose to die a warriors death - fighting like a wildcat and screaming like a banshee.  No one ever knows how they might react when put into a crisis situation, but unless the killer had a gun to my kids' head (in which case I'd be simpering putty in their hands) I fervently hope that with my last breath I would give my assailant some serious wounds to lick when he got home.  But with a sniper....hell......you don't have a chance.

Happy Birthday to my best girlfriend, J.
If I hear you call yourself old even one more time - well, I might just strangle your little young ass.

OH MY GOODNESS!!!!!!  The Crystal Method is coming!  I will be dancing.  Oh, yes, I will be dancing!

This post is purely confessional:  
I have a real, serious, prideful prejudice when it comes to stupidity.  
As you read on, you may think of me as a snobbish bitch.  
I'm sorry in advance.  I can't help it.

I just watched "the Secret Life of Women."  Today's episode was about child brides - brides of the 12-15 year old variety, in fact.  Is it any wonder that of all the girls interviewed, only one of the five could speak English in an understandable way?  There is a greater culture and language barrier in the hills of Kentucky and West Virginia than just about anywhere else on earth.  (The one girl who did speak proper English, by the way, happened to be Japanese - interesting....)

I suppose I'm not one to talk, being pregnant at pregnant and married myself by age 20 (in that order, too, horror!)  but I  (1) graduated high school and even attended a bit of college (2) speak clearly, in phonetically correct English and (3) have never sponged off my family or the government.   I was raised in the south....my family is from the mountains of North Carolina and I've never lived north of Virginia.   I have a distinct southern accent, which I think can be a fine thing (as long as you use correct grammar.)

Back to the child brides (or divorcees, depending on which teenager you are considering.)  It isn't the girls' fault.  How dare parents' bring children into this world and not do their best to guide them toward reaching their highest potential?  I am living proof that even the best laid plans go awry sometimes, but I turned out okay in the end (more or less) and I'm raising two wonderful children who, thus far, are wiser and more given to self-preservation than I was at their ages.  

I'm still given to stupid choices occasionally.  
It's part of my hell-on-wheels nature.  
But people who actually allow themselves to BE stupid and to breed more - often lots more - baby stupids, well, that's another thing entirely.

My head is spinning a thousand miles an hour.  
How can I possibly do all the things I'm passionate about without losing any of the time I so greatly enjoy wasting??????  If I just didn't have to spend several hours of each day sleeping!  Dammit!

This album is from way back in 1970.  I've never heard of this guy till he showed up on Pitchfork the other day.  This piece was recently remastered and is completely excellent, aside from tracks 8 and 9, which are the only songs on the album that sound dated (in a not-so-good way.)  

After over a month of watching mediocre movies, I have discovered two beloved ones in the last two days!  Sometimes it is fun to be in bed sick with nothing to do but watch TV.  "Sleeping Dogs Lie," which played last night on the Sundance channel, is a wickedly honest love story. It was written and directed by Bob(cat) Goldthwait, whom I haven't seen or heard from in years.  The characters - all of them - made me smile with their awkward believability.  "Sleeping Dogs" easily turns today's retarded, pathetically romantic comedies (like the godawful "Music and Lyrics") squarely on their head.  It was wonderfully refreshing to find a film that understands, and understands deeply, that nothing that pertains to human relationships is anything close to normal, and that every one of us has a dark side that would raise eyebrows (and maybe other things, too) if it were to suddenly bust loose in polite company.

PS:  This movie, when searching IMDB, is alternately titled "Stay."   This renaming is possibly to avoid a movie title traffic jam, seeing as how there are four other films in recent years with the same name.  

I had the pleasure of stumbling across this documentary film on Showtime last night.  To say I was riveted is a gross understatement.  By film's end my heart felt bruised and sore, yet filled to bursting with an immense sense of gratitude. I have remained, all day, in a state of empathy and wonder the equal of which I haven't experienced in a long, long time.   Everyone, absolutely EVERYONE, should see this film.

I am well aware of the half-baked fearmongering that is commonly spewed among online crackpot "experts" but I read an article this morning that concerns me.   A far cry from unfounded quackery, major cancer centers and true experts are beginning to see that the risks of cell phone use are indeed very real.  

http://www.geocities.com/northstarzone/PHONES.html

We recently had our landline service suspended to save a few dollars per month.  I am now questioning the wisdom of that move.  I read this article just a couple of minutes after hanging up from an extended cell-phone call with a friend.  Looking at this image of a phone-heated brain makes me quite uncomfortable, especially since the "phone side" of my head felt - and still feels - strangely hot and pulsing.  It was this odd sensation that prompted me to do a google search, which uncovered this and other disturbing articles about the risks of cell phone usage.  Of course I know I'm going to die one of these days.  I just don't relish the thought of exiting this life via brain or lung cancer, a plane crash, any scary skin disorder (such as SJS or Necrotizing Fasciitis),  Alzheimer's, burning, choking, or drowning.  

Communication Styles by Phil Rich

Ineffective Communication:

Indirect-not getting to the point, never clearly states purpose or intention
Passive-timid and reserved
Antagonistic-angry, aggressive, or hostile tone
Cryptic-underlying message or purpose obscured and requires interpretation
Hidden-true agenda is never stated directly
Non-verbal-communicated through body language and behaviors, not words
One way-more talk than listening
Unresponsive-little interest in the perspective or needs of the other person
Off base-responses and needs of the other person are misunderstood and misinterpreted
Dishonest-dishonest statements are substituted for true feelings, thoughts, and needs

(when evaluating my communication style, I realize I need to work on not being antagonistic, one way, and unresponsive.  I tend to be selfish and explosive when I get upset.)

Effective Communication:

Direct-to the point, leaving no doubt as to meaning or purpose
Assertive-not afraid to state what is wanted or why
Congenial-affable and friendly
Clear-underlying issues are clear
Open-no intentionally hidden messages or meaning
Verbal-words are used to clearly express ideas
Two way-equal amounts of talking and listening
Responsive-attention paid to the needs and perspective of the other person.
Honest-true feelings, thoughts, and needs are stated

(again, when evaluating my communication style, I am pleased to find that I am direct, assertive, clear, open, verbal, and honest.  Considering I only have three bad habits off the other list - and those only come out when I'm really pissed off, for the most part - I would say that I am a decent communicator.  Yay!)

Had a wonderful lunch today drinking shiraz and buying new clothes with my girlfriend.  Happy Birthday, J!  I love you!

Today I am having a little funeral procession for the Talking Heads.   
I love them.  I do.  But they've been my faithful companion for so many years now that I must admit things are getting a bit boring in the bedroom (and in the car, and on the couch.)  Call me unfaithful if you must, but it's time to shelve them and move on.  Of course eventually I'll probably resurrect them, but my moratorium period lasts at least 5 years.....sometimes even forever.  Goodbye David, Jerry, Chris, and Tina.  I loved you once.  Maybe, given time, I will again.

I was delighted last night, after cringing my way through this little tramp's moaning and pitching version of the national anthem in the moments preceding kickoff of the Philadephia/Dallas game, to hear the entire stadium erupt in a "BOOOOOOOO!" that was loudly and undeniably just for her.

I dislike Dallas....their owner is a rich, slick pervert whose slime can't be covered by an expensive suit, and because half their team are thuggish boors who are constantly running their mouths, running illegal guns, or running off in a car after shooting at someone out the window. But the Dallas fans, last night at least, warmed my heart by booing the hell out of this probably-pretty-without-so-much makeup little waste of the music industry's time. I am still smiling.

Another highlight of the game, as was displayed (to the tune of my chuckles) on the yahoo front page this morning, is the almost-touchdown where rookie Deshaun Jackson - my friend C's fantasy pick - slung the football arrogantly to the ground BEFORE crossing the scoring line. No points. Much humiliation. He's a talented young player whom I hope learned a valuable mistake last night about the foolishness of allowing adrenaline and joy to cloud your better judgment.

Today is a great day! This baby is MINE! Hooray!

Be your friend’s true friend.
Return gift for gift.
Repay laughter with laughter again
but betrayal with treachery.

- The Havamal

I am very excited that Nick Cave's "Boatman's Call" is Allmusic's album of the day.

Upcoming shows in the forecast:

Flogging Molly
Girl Talk
Buckethead

I feel some grooving coming on.

I've been on a Sepultura binge the last couple of days.
I should be horsewhipped for ignoring this band for so many years.

Halloween is coming. Yay!

This gorgeous bowl was a gift from a new, but already dear friend.
He is a potter and he makes beautiful things. I am so proud of it!

Thank you!!

Andrei Chikatilo

This guy is quite fascinating.
We named our newest beer after him. Today J will be brewing "Chikatilo's Ripping Red."

Gasoline shortage!
Revelationesque storms!
Whatever will we do??????

Any excuse the powers that be can come up with to fleece the public out of their dollars and instill a sense of fear (and thereby establish control, since scared people are simple to control) they will take it. War? Yes siree! Pay more for gas and be afraid....the Muslims are coming. Hurricane? That'll work. Pay more for gas, southeast, and stock up on milk and bread just in case the storm (gasp!) takes a turn toward Y O U.

I am certainly not the only person who perversely wishes I were there on my front porch with a beer and a few close friends, waiting for the winds to scare us back into the house. I hope the foolish/courageous/stubborn souls who refused to evacuate have an awesome hurricane party and enjoy an exciting, safe night as the shit hits the fan down south. I will pray tonight that no one is hurt.

I used to live in New Orleans. And...it's safer to ride out a large-category hurricane in your home, by statistics, than to drive your car to work and back for a week. (Or something like that...I read this stat after Katrina and the specicifs are fuzzy.) Yes, storms are getting bigger (thanks, global warming!) but the media is also delighting in fearmongering like never before in history. Personally, I 'spect things will be okay.

I have spent the day remembering what an excellent band Shudder to Think really is. Craig Wedren has one of my favorite singing voices, ever.

Good Lord! Look at the size of this poor guys thyroid tumor.

PS: I'm not depressed anymore.
Now it's changed to antsy....tired and wired.
Oh, the everchanging joy of rapid cycling.

I want to see the movie "Choke."
I need to wash my car.
I love the yellow lab cuddled up next to my side, even though she gets hair all over my clothes. Having a dog like this makes it impossible to wear black.
Today I was given flowers because I was sad. And a handful of my favorite gum.
For dinner I ate noodles.
And tasted a bunch of different kinds of beer (my job is a drag. Heh.)
Right now I'm wishing everyone I love could be happy, because alot of them are not.
I'm hoping my dad doesn't die, even though he's very nearly there.
My husband is brewing beer in the kitchen. It almost stinks, but not quite. Smells like home....like toast.
I am going to read my book (of disgusting things) and hopefully fall asleep after a page or two.

Goodnight.

My Velvet Underground discography refuses to download. Aggggggggggggggh!
It isn't fair not to let this stuff fly around freely when so much of it is out of print. I would buy it nice and legally if I could. But I can't. So what's a girl supposed to do?

Creepella....
that's kind of sweet.
I guess.

: )

Delusory Parasitosis:
Some people are so paranoid about bugs on their bodies that they become psychotic. In an obsessive-compulsive disorder gone haywire, these people imagine that they are constantly under attack from invisible bugs. In their panic, sufferers often scrub their skin raw and scratch themselves bloody. They toxify their homes with pesticides, bathe in caustic agents that destroy the skin, and often commit suicide.

Few things are more terrifying than this....
Necrotizing Fasciitis is one.
Stevens-Johnson Syndrome is another.

There are so many awful things that can happen to our bodies and/or minds at any time. For any reason (or no reason at all.) It's frightening. Above all else, I hate skin maladies. Ugh. I will choose pain every time over the agony and horror of itching.

I'm having a Devendra Banhart kind of day. It's gloomy outside, depression hit me this morning like a sledgehammer, and I just need to hear him. "Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon" is currently fitting my mood quite perfectly. God, I hope I shake this soon. I'd rather be off-my-damn-rocker crazy than to feel so sad.

Listening to the new Tricky album "Knowle West Boy." I love Tricky. On first listen, this is cautiously worthwhile. OK....so maybe it isn't "Maxinquaye" but it's still interesting.



(Edited to add: VERY interesting. I'll buy this one.)

I have a few great friends that kept pinching me to join facebook. So I did....carefully hiding myself the best I could because it creeps me out for anyone to peer at my mind, except for the few odd souls that I invite into my cobwebby recesses. I am beginning this blog because sometimes I am a mental exhibitionist who enjoys sharing what's in my head. On the flipside....I hate the questions and repurcussions that often come along with public thought-sharing. Because of this, there are several versions of me floating around in this world. Here is the real one. Anonymously.