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.

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