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.