Sunday, March 27, 2016

Rule of Thumb Vol 1

Here is some good, solid advice.

If you are about to make an observation about another person and feel the need to start with a disclaimer sentence, in which you have to say something along these lines:

"If I tell you something, promise you won't get mad..."

"Promise me your feelings won't be hurt..."

"I don't want to upset you but..."

The tiny moment before you begin that sentence is the best time to stop talking. 




Monday, February 01, 2016

Imbolc




Happy Imbolc!

Traditionally celebrated on February 1st, although sometimes earlier or later, depending on the onset of lambing season and the blooming of blackthorn.

It is a day for cleaning and purification, visits to holy wells and the lighting of candles to symbolize the return of Spring.

The goddess Brigid is invited into the home-she representing the coming days of light. Meals of traditional foods are set aside for her and occasionally a bed will be made for the Goddess as well.

Like Groundhog day, which comes tomorrow, it is also a day to divine the weather for the coming weeks and whether or not there will be an early Spring.

Legend says, the Cailleach, divine hag, dark opposite to Brigid's light, will make the weather on this day bright and sunny, if she wishes to make Winter last longer.

The nice weather allowing her to gather firewood for the rest of the cold season.

If the weather on Imbolc is foul, it means the Cailleach is asleep and Winter will be over soon.

Judging by the beautiful weather today, we are surely fucked.



Sunday, January 31, 2016

3 Distinct Things on a Thursday

Sometimes there are things that I really want to write about on here.

Then life gets on the way and they remain unwritten.

Please bear with me guys-my writing muscle has become very flabby over the past few weeks.

I really wanted to do this post on Thursday, January 28th.

There were three very distinct things about that day.

By the time I got out of work Thursday, I was a quivering mass of tired jelly that still had to make dinner and walk the dog.

By the time I was done, it was straight to bed to read comics for me.

(Who recommended that I read Saga? I can't remember who, but I love that person.)

Friday I worked again and there were important things to do.

Saturday-more work? Yes, please and thank you.

Now that you have heard all of my lame ass excuses,

Here is Thursday's post for today.

The 30th anniversary of the Challenger shuttle disaster was on Thursday.

It is interesting how an anniversary or getting news of someone's passing can invoke such a strong image of the past.

I was almost 12 and in the 6th grade.

Fifth and sixth grade were the height of my "school phobia" years.

Some therapist actually "diagnosed me" with school phobia.

Not entirely true.

I had (still have) anxiety issues involving anticipation, coupled with the fact that almost (almost) all of the people I went to school with were complete assholes.


I was in my parent's bed watching TV, having been successful in playing sick so that I didn't have to go to school again.

I watched the crash over and over that day, not quite believing that all of those astronauts would be found dead.

Back then my family had 3 channels on the bedroom TV.  6, 10, 12 and then the UHF channels, but I can't remember how many we had of those, maybe 2 or 3.

I remember growing increasingly impatient with the constant barrage of news coverage on almost all of those channels.

There appeared to be no escape from the bad news.

The next day at school one of my teachers assigned us to follow the story and write about it.

Much to my dismay.

Needless to say, I was not all that emotionally invested in the situation.

Blame it on my age at the time.

I have never been much of a current events/current disaster person.

I can't really stomach the whole: " Let us hunker down around the TV while the news vomits up the most recent catastrophe".

Over and over and over.

That's my husband's job.

He hunkers and watches. I do other things.

****************                          

Buddy Cianci died Thursday.

He did a lot of great things for Providence.

I started taking the bus up every weekend to Providence, to visit friends and see bands, about 30 years ago, around the same time of the Challenger disaster.

At the time, Providence was a wasteland of train tracks and empty buildings.

But the music scene was amazing.

The city is pretty amazing now.

Downtown where the train tracks once were is a beautiful park and river walk.

We used to cross over the tracks to get from the bus station to the old Living Room.

The music scene now feels like a barren wasteland.

All of the clubs are gone for the most part. Bands play sporadically.

It's really sad.

Back to Buddy.

I don't do politicians. I don't do politics.

That is my husband's job as well.

He keeps up to date on all of the political happenings.

I do something else.

I embrace a George Carlin-esqe view of politicians and politics and I leave it there.

I try to vote for the best candidate but --refer back to George Carlin on voting--.

I ask my husband and he tells me who to vote for.

I never met Buddy, although I met his daughter on several occasions.

Hearing of Buddy's death brought out more memories.

I was fortunate enough to see both of Shep Fairey's doctored Buddy Cianci billboards, first hand.

The Andre the Giant one.

It took a bit to remember what happened or what I was doing the day I saw it.

But it came back.

I was on the bus driving past.





It was brilliant-I laughed out loud.

I was visiting School One that day.

I went to School One in 88-89.

Due to finances, I couldn't go back to school the following year and I didn't go to school for the first 6 months of my Sophomore year.

That day was right before I had to go back to Middletown High School.

I think I had to start the next day even.

I was so sad.

But that billboard...

My friend Heather remembered Buddy's daughter Nicole, who also went to School One, running about trying to find out who did that to her father's billboard.

Everyone knew it was Shep, not a one said a word.

I remember it now.

I remember Nicole. I didn't speak to her that day.

I honestly never liked her. But I won't speak ill and all. I didn't really know her.

I also had the privilege of seeing Shep's second Buddy Cianci billboard.

I happened to be up in Providence overnight at a friend's and I was walking down College Hill to the bus station to catch a bus to Newport.

It was a Roger William's Zoo billboard featuring the naked mole rat.

It said "The Naked Mole Rat-As if being a rat was bad enough"

There was a picture along side the words of a large, pink, naked mole rat.

Someone (Shep, of course) had pasted a picture of Buddy Cianci over the face of the mole rat.

 I wish I had a camera. I laughed all the way to the bus station and for the entire bus ride home.

Any one have a picture of it??

I've been searching with no success.

************

I offered G fifty dollars if she would dress as Lemmy for Halloween

She said no.

I told her that I had all the stuff to do it and she could totally pull it off.

I told her that she would walk around on Halloween and people would be yelling out "LEMMY!!!"

I told her it would be the greatest.



Can you see it? The hair. The scowl. They could be related.

I shoved my phone in the face of G's best friend, who was watching the entire exchange with a slightly alarmed look on her face.

As she does when I go on one of my silly rants.

"C'mon, don't you think she could pull it off?"

"I..I don't know?"

From there I went into a long winded sermon about how awesome it was when I was growing up.

For the entire time that I rambled on, I had their attention.

The shows and the music.

The bands that would come and hang out in the crowd after they played.

The bands that I met.

There was a place to be and things to do-every damn weekend.

I came in probably at the beginning of the end in many ways, but it was still such an amazing time to grow up.

I can't even do it justice here, how it was.

Maybe some day I can explain it better, but those of you who grew up with me, during that time, get it.

It was amazing.

The music in those dingy, smelly clubs gave us all a place to be.

An identity.

A distraction, however brief, from the bullshit of childhood and young adulthood.

I wish my kids could have even the tiniest bit of that.

(Minus the drinking and other things in the parking lot before the show of course).

Music saves.

Punk rock music saved my life.

I have no doubt.

Music still saves my life.

Every day.

Lemmy was the embodiment of that for me.

I think he was for a lot of people.

Thursday, Jan 28th was the month anniversary of his passing.

Recalling the Challenger disaster, a politician's death, even the very sad death of David Bowie,

Pales in comparison to how gutted I felt when I heard the news.

I'm really sad that I never got to see Motorhead live.

I'm going to steal a quote from my friend Brendan, who always writes this when someone passes,

It's fitting and it's my favorite.

Safe travels Lemmy, I'm so sad to see you go.

I'd also like to say with all the respect, admiration and love that I can muster for a person that I have never met,

You will remain, always, the one and only musician that I would have thrown my panties on stage for.































































Friday, January 01, 2016

Happy New Year


Please note the diaper, what every Times Square New Year's Eve reveler needs


I ended the old year with a really crappy day.

Not a complete loss mind you, but the day was filled with short tempers and work, a lost wallet (not mine thankfully) and a very late dinner-followed by more work and a bit too much sugar, once I located a nearly forgotten bag of Hershey kisses.

I did manage to listen to a lot of Moorhead and watch Better Off Dead, (nothing makes a crap day better than Ricky's mom).

I dozed in a chair and woke up just enough to watch the ball drop as the crowd of people in Times Square who were unable to relieve themselves for the past 12 hours cheered.

It made me laugh imagining that everyone in that crowd was wearing adult undergarments, which had to be fairly heavy by midnight.

Cheers to the poor sanitation workers who probably had to clean up many bottles filled with yellow liquid. (I read that there are no bathroom facilities in Times Square while you wait in one spot for hours to see the ball drop-it's amazing what people will put themselves through.)

I went to bed listening to the sounds of my asshole neighbors lighting either bombs or fireworks outside my window.

Before I slipped into slumber, I wished every last one of them to be cursed with inconvenient and intense anal itch forever and ever.

Last year wasn't a great year, but it was ok. My word for last year was "finish" and I managed to finish a totally crappy first draft of a book, so there was that-I have probably written another 2 books of revisions but I am ok with that. A few people I knew and was fond of passed on, some people were born.

I have bees by my front door, which was probably the best part of the year. Along with that new Mad Max movie.

I finished a few short stories. I read many books. I was able to keep a journal consistently. I rediscovered a lot of bands I used to love. I had a fangirl moment where my favorite author personally recommended a whole bunch books for me to read via Twitter.

I broke my foot and my job is worse than ever. But it is what it is right? I have a job, I make decent money and it serves a good purpose-although being on call 24-7 means there is no escape.

For 2016-there will be change. That something that's gotta will give. Straws will break the back of many camels. Whether it is good or not so great-there will be some changes I am sure. My current status quo is too meh at the moment.

My word for the 2016 year is "no".

Also in this coming year, I will try and be a little less cynical, especially with those around me. I will try and appreciate all the gifts that my loved ones bring to my life.

Like Horst for example, living with my father gifts me with a whole new appreciation for linoleum or concrete floors, especially ones with drains in the middle. Yes and hoses too. (see my Labor Day weekend live tweet event in which Brian and I cleaned his apartment)

I started off this morning right.

I was up early. I finished and submitted my short story to the wonderful writing group that I belong to.

I wished a Happy New Year to my beehives by knocking on the wood with my ear pressed to the side-I was greeted with angry buzzing from inside. It's music to my ears-they are still alive. I am hoping for them to make it through the winter-I'm hoping for more bees this year. And maybe a bigger garden-as long as I don't break any bones again.

I am writing this-I miss writing posts-this will be a year of more posts and more writing. I have missed you guys.

Before I go, here is my annual New Years Day list of books I have read this past year. There are asterisks for the really good ones-I may try to put all of the books on GoodReads and Pinterest but for now, this will do. I enjoyed all of the books-I no longer have time for ones that don't interest me-I just don't finish them and I didn't bother to include them.

1. My True Love Gave To Me *
2. The War of Art***
3. The Darkest Part of The Forest
4. The Troop
5. The Mime Order
6. The Deep-actually I lied-I quit this one halfway through
7. The Bone Clocks
8. Trigger Warning ***
9. The Color of Magic**
10. The Wee Free Men***
11. The Wind Through The Keyhole**
12. Dragons Of Autumn Twilight (this was a re-read from when I was younger-plain awful-I lied again-I still read crappy books to the end sometimes)
13.The Beastkeeper
14. The Spirit Thief
15. The Gospel Of Loki ******
16. The Interrogation of Ashala Wolf
17. Winter smith**
18. When The Red Sea Rises
19. The Hellhound Heart
20.The Scarlet Gospels
21. The Goblin Emperor *****
22. A Darker Shade of Magic
23. I Shall Wear Midnight ***
24. House of Sand and Secrets
25. Get In Trouble ***
26. North American Lake Monsters**
27. Archivist Wasp
28. One good Dragon Deserves Another
29. Wyrd Sisters *****
30. Witches Abroad **********
31. Vicious
32. Runemarks
33. The Light Fantastic
34. The Song of Achilles ********
35. Howl's Moving Castle *******
36. The Fifth Season *******
37. The Traitor Baru Comorant ****
38. Fables 20
39. Fables 21
40. Brief Lives (Sandman)
41. The Wake (Sandman)
42. Preacher
43. Don Juan (the Carlos Castaneda one)
44. Rot and Ruin
45. Cramps The Yule Lord (not as good I sincerely wished it would be)
46. Lips Touch Three Times *********
47. Bazaar of Bad Dreams.

I am also halfway finished with "Remember Why You Fear Me" which is a fantastic book of short stories.

There were a bunch that I started but didn't finish because I ran out of time on the library Kindle thingamabob and others that I couldn't get into.
I'm going to shoot for at least 52 but maybe 52 next year. I have a huge "to-read" list but welcome any more ideas.

What was your favorite? Book music movie or whatever.

I hope you had many favorite things last year

 I wish for you all to have a coming year full of many more favorite things.

Happy New Year!!!









Tuesday, September 08, 2015

Airport

The thing to know about my eldest daughter is that when she is excited and nervous, she becomes a dick. 

The thing to know about me, is that when I am tired and hungry orwhen you talk to me while I am driving (it is my favorite thinking time) I become a dick

The car making its way through early morning traffic to Boston, so Lyd could catch a flight, was full of dicks.

After parking in the lot and finding where the fuck we were supposed to be, we limped our way to her terminal. Driving so far hurts my still healing foot.

Lyd is afraid of escalators and we only had the escalator option at one point. I won't deny that I was frustrated and did refer to the escalator as a "motherfucking escalator" as I urged her to get on it.

The other escalators we had to take had a steep stair option running along side them. While taking the escalator, when I passed Lyd as she trudged up the stairs, it was very difficult for me not to smile at her and give her the finger as I smoothly moved past her and up.

I didn't do it, but the thought made me laugh. The laughter turned my morning around. I stopped feeling like a dick.

It has been a rough summer in many ways despite her any achievements. Sometimes I firmly believe that the human animal is wired for hardcore parenting for about 16 years. After that you really start to understand why some creatures eat their offspring. 

I have been hardcore parenting Lyd for 21 years at the end of this month.

I am sitting in a little cafe overlooking the plane she is on while I write this. She will be gone for a week and it will be a much needed break for all of us. 

I will sit here until the plane takes off. Although I need this break, although I am tired and although have entertained the thought of driving her off in a snarling rage or even perhaps consuming her (actually no) I will never stop being her parent. 

So I sit here and wait


Friday, September 04, 2015

Balls



In some traditions, at a birth, an important family member will whisper some special first words into the child's ear.

Usually they are certain prayers or words of welcome.

At this moment in my life I would not be at all surprised if the first words to be reverently uttered into my newborn ear was the phrase,

"Deflated balls."

Seriously, all I have been hearing about for the past several months, almost constantly, has to do with Tom Brady and the deflated balls.

I have become a pro at conversational detachment-I am Horst's daughter after all.

If a person makes mention of Minecraft you tube videos, Star Wars the Old Republic, any sport, politics or whenever Horst starts to talk,  my brain automatically defaults into detachment mode.

I may look interested. I will nod in all the right places, but in my head I will be doing other things, creating stories, planning a hair washing or praying to whatever deity that may be listening that the speaker will be stricken with a sudden case of pharyngitis.

I believe that this is why after all these months of deflated ball talk, it was just last night during dinner, B at it again about Tom's deflated balls, I finally put two and two together and snickered.

"It's not funny!" B snarled icily.

Months of enduring talks about deflated balls in silence,  I laugh for the first and only time.

He will not even give me that.

In my family, hearing loss is common later in life.

I do so look forward to my dotage.

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Hamming

Some fun quotes from the last few days.

"G, you haven't lived until you've peed in a parking lot!"

"I don't think I can have faith in a God who made monkey asses so red."

"Ham me!"*

*B has very large hands. I have often said that when he rubs sunblock onto my shoulders and back it's like being slapped repeatedly on the back with a couple of wet ham steaks. Every year, during vacation, getting ready for the beach, I hand B a bottle of sunblock turn around and tell him to "Ham me!"
Brian says it's still not funny after all these years but I disagree.