Nice

"I won't kneel" I Won't Kneel - Groove Armada


I think I'm rather nice, and a good load of my friends would agree. I'm proud that I'm nice most days, but there are some days when I hateth myself for it. The days when I know I've been taken for granted, and there have been many of those days - those are the the self stabbing days.

I get mad at myself for investing so poorly in people stock sometimes, berating myself with "should"s that make no difference now, and then berating myself for berating myself.

Thoughts get stuck in my craw...ok the word "craw" has always cracked me up and in looking up the literal definitions of this word, I happened upon what Wikipedia had to say and the second entry on that page, I shit you not, was "Craw (band), a math rock band from Cleveland, Ohio". Uhhhh wtf is a MATH ROCK band and how do I avoid such a thing? I mean, there can be a MATH COUNTRY band, as two things I hate in the same place like that won't make that much of a difference one way or the other, but to soil ROCK music with MATH is just something my brain refuses to process at this time.

I had to click on that link, and I confess a single respectful brow was raised when I saw the name "Steve Albini" mentioned, but the same section of acceptable, female, facial hair came crashing down when other words like "saxophone" and "Rush" pissed on my eyes from cyberspace.

After an ocular cleanse, I furthered into nerdness by looking up MATH ROCK and the mere gesture of the first click made my glasses become two inches thicker and I went to reach for an imaginary inhaler that may or may not have been there. I can't tell as my glasses became as thick as Glen Beck.

About two sentences in, I felt death by boredom coming on and came back to finish this note and my glasses safely transformed back to their original Tina Fey status.

Ok now where was I? Oh yeah, shit gets stuck in my craw; thoughts ruminating over and over. Thoughts that sound like a posh, English, 56 year old, gay man. The kind of dude that has said "Unhand me you CAD!" on more than one occasion and plans to consciously do it again. I can "How Dare YOU?" for days, but it won't change anything will it? People DARE without explanation nor translation, and sometimes you have to just suck it up and cut your losses. I keep wavering between that and self persecution.

I'm nice, yes, but age/experience or just constantly fucking up has taught me to be better at being TOO nice. I know some are reading this thinking "Um you could give Betch lessons, you aren't TOO nice," but yeah sometimes I actually have been and got bitten in the left quadrant of my ass when I was. I'm trying to be a bit of a dick here and there to balance it out though, and I really made progress yesterday when I was shopping.

I was sifting through some shirts on the rack and one fell off a hanger to the floor and I just left it there. That's right ladies and gentleman, I didn't even look at it. Fuck that fucking shirt and it's fucking flimsy, loser ass material that can't fucking hang onto a hanger. I will not be held accountable for that fucking shirt's inability to do one of the VERY few things asked of it.

Oh yes, I left it there.

Judge me if you must.

True Story: Most Dudes I Encounter Are Dbags

"I'll just nod, I've never been so good at shaking hands
I live on the frozen surface of a fireball" 11th Dimension - Julian Casablancas

Monday, April 19, 2010 at 1:52am

I have no idea why I gave this guy my number a while back, I was bored, drunk, who the fuck knows?

He called this evening and after a quick reminder of who he was, hijacked my ear for seven straight minutes. I zoned out after about two, but then a text came in snapping me to consciousness so I severed into the one sided conversation with an excuse about having to meet a friend in ten minutes. It wasn't a lie, my cat was in the next room mixing martinis. He's one of my dearest friends with a penchant for punctuality that can't be ignored, and a genius when it comes to the libations.

I guess my participation wasn't expected in this phone conversation because he seemed quite taken aback as he asked me to repeat what I had just interjected. I did as he requested with a bit more pinch in my tone, but it went unnoticed as he preceded in asking me if I wanted to get dinner sometime.

I said "Thanks, but no."

He then asked me why I even gave him my number. I said I couldn't recall but that after hearing him on the phone, I had reconsidered.

"After HEARING ME? Wtf does that mean?" he asked.

"Well, from the second you rang, you've been the only one talking and haven't asked a single, fucking thing about me, not even 'How are you?' That shows me you aren't interested in my well being, or anything I have to say. There were no compliments sincere or otherwise in your rhetoric and that's a prerequisite to getting face time with me. If people don't say nice things to me or give a shit about anything I think, my ego can't get mentally or physically hard. If I'm not getting hard, then neither are you. These are the rules I now live by. I'm sorry but you come across as a narcissistic blowhard and I don't want to waste either of our precious minutes do you?"

The exquisite "click" sound of him terminating the call gave me more mental wood than I imagine he ever could.

Stealth Care

“Doctor I'm leaving
But don't turn out the lights
There'll be a cigarette burn victim
Who just like me has lost the strength to stand and fight
Above all it made me sick
I wanted the truth
But he just licked his lips and smiled
That's just the price you pay” Doctor Doctor – Razorlight

I’m starting to wonder if I can even associate with Republicans now as their insanity baffles me even more than people that want to make accessories from human skin.

The ones I’m related to and grew up with think the U.S.A.’s BIGGEST problem is people on welfare that don’t deserve it. When I ask them do they have any names of people that they know well who are on welfare but “scamming” the system, they never have any. In fact, one guy got pissed at me and said he didn’t have to justify what he believes in. I wasn’t asking him to do that, I just wondered if he knew these folks because I don’t know any at all. I don’t know anyone on welfare, let alone someone who is getting it but doesn’t need it.

I do, however, have a long list of names of people that need health insurance and I do KNOW them. Some have lost their insurance when they got sick, some can’t find jobs with insurance offered, some can’t afford the plans their jobs offer, and some have pre-existing conditions and have been denied coverage. I know one person who lost everything when they got cancer and was denied Medicare/Medicaid when they applied.

Republicans don’t want to hear these things. They tell me they don’t think people that sit on their asses deserve health care and will do whatever it takes so they don’t have to pay for THESE people. It's more important that THESE people, that they don’t know the names of, are "put into their places" over the well being of the ones they do know that have either fallen on hard times or chose a more artistic path.

Fuck it, maybe it doesn’t even fucking matter, I mean, there are other options besides the government helping out right?

If American women need health care, they can get pregnant. The state pays for your health if you have a kid, even if you hate the kid and can’t afford it and end up on …wait for it…WELFARE. If they're barren we can start a web site for mail order brides to other countries (Saudi Arabia is always looking for some hefty, pale, white girls). My back up plan is prison, they accept my pre-existing condition (heart stuff I was born with) there and I kind of salivate at picking whose house I'm going to burn down when the time comes (I'll make sure the pets are out) or whose dick will meet with my baseball bat on unfriendly terms (my bat is bipartisan).

Both women and men, if healthy, can join the military like some of my friends are doing. Musicians, artists, designers, writers, models, actors, etc that have to work weird hours to support their habits can hang it up, there really is no need for new American music, or acting, England has that covered. Everyone can get an accounting job or become a nurse and we'll all be the same, yeay!

********

It won't ever come into fruition here, we all know nothing ever changes except gas prices, which nobody seemed to have a problem paying $1.50 per gallon extra for that two years ago for some reason. (Those poor oil companies!) Maybe pretend we’re still paying that but instead of the cash going to some fat, fucking suit at Exxon, it saves the single mom down the street raising three kids on her own, or the life of someone born into poverty that will someday write your new favorite song.

I've come to the conclusion that it's ridiculous to worry about it one way or the other. I don't give a shit who’s for or against it, but I do know I could never look another non-murdering human being in the eye and tell them that they don’t deserve to live.

I think the BIGGEST problem in the U.S.A. is that too many people here can.

Alex Chilton R.I.P.

"Every night I tell myself,
I am the cosmos,
I am the wind
But that don't get you back again
Just when I was starting to feel okay
You're on the phone" I Am The Cosmos - Big Star

When I heard Alex Chilton died today, I genuinely cried, then fell asleep and missed all of the St. Patrick's festivities I had planned, but I really didn't care.

I'll raise a glass with friends later this evening to the memory of this legendary and inspiring man.

To most he's the teenage phenomenon from "The Boxtops" (duh "The Letter") or the dude who sang "That'70's Show's" theme song "In The Street", but to musicians he's on Bowie levels aside from the fact that he was not WELL known. A fact in which he reveled.

"Big Star" live was awesome, and I miss the days of being able to catch them in small, out of the way places after they reunited in the 90's. I miss who I was at that time as well. I believed in love, I wasn't yet broken or used. I felt invincible and vulnerability was never given a thought. I thought the people that were my friends would be in my life forever (some are yeay!), but some have died, and some I wish were dead (the bitch part of me is still VERY intact). I believed in a higher percentage of goodness in people than the sad reality I've witnessed in the years since.

That was a time where there were "passwords", if you will. Naming the right influences was the deciding factor in your status and ranks amongst your peers in the overly snotty music world. "Alex Chilton" or "Big Star" were the right answers to 90% of the questions that were never asked. I can't tell you how many doors were opened for me when I ignorantly mentioned my admiration of them. Eyebrows raised, interest sparked, opportunities were relinquished to me just because I mentioned them first. Knowledge was power, but now it's more accessible and I'm beginning to think knowledge has become simply random.

Sometimes when I'm lost in "For You" or "I'm In Love With a Girl", I feel like that person who still believes in love for a minute, but then I think and she's gone.

She Fangs

Above: Ian Somerhalder

“How fucking romantic
must we really waltz?
drag another cliche
howling from the vaults” How Fucking Romantic – The Magnetic Fields

Ugh, I just sat through the movie “Twilight”.

“Why?” You ask as you grimace in solid distaste. Well someone I grew up with was murdered a few days ago and I was already in a weird place, but this brought me to that level where you just don’t want to think. TV is the antidote to thinking and voila, "Twilight" was on Showtime HD and honestly the cinematography was lush and pleasant. The script however, was not. Rated “lame” for mature audiences.

Many wonder the appeal of such films, but it’s quite simple. Mousy brunettes want a guy that’s a tortured soul who needs and craves only them. He is SO sensitive and hides things to protect them, but NEVER lies. He’s pretty, but strong (never muscular) and keeps them safe at any cost. He looks at them like he’ll die without them but lives to linger only in a stare. Having sex may kill the girl so overly dramatic restraint is a necessity.

He would never get drunk and do anything vulgar like yell “Show me your tits” to female passersby, no! Such words would never stain his lips. He’s mysterious and different. He doesn’t watch sports, he’d rather hear stories about how no one else understands but him, and truly no one does understand but him. He texts them all day, even while they’re being chased by really evil vampires he takes a moment to text and say how great her elbows look as they run for their lives. He dismembers the enemy seconds after hitting “send”, but will text again even if she is standing right in front of him, he just loves her that much.

Vampires kill people, but it’s okay as long as they’re good looking and monogamous. If the vamp were to look at the girl’s friend for more than two seconds though, she would stake him in the left pec fo sho.

There should be a disclaimer at the beginning and end of the movie like “Caution, this is fantasy. There's no such thing as a good looking, monogamous dude that gives a shit about anything you have to say in America or probably anywhere. Interesting, mysterious guys that care about brains over a pretty face are fictitious! The possibility that vampires exist is more probable than the males postured in this film. You are setting yourself up for crushing blows of reality and years of costly therapy if you delude yourself into thinking men are even remotely like this.”

The fantasy male and female in these times makes me wonder how any of us ever get together at all (oh yeah alcohol).

I confess I do watch “Vampire Diaries” but merely to drool over Ian Somerhalder (Boone on Lost). The show itself blows aside from his scene stealing character "Damon". It’s “Roswell” subbing vampires for aliens this time right down to the pretty, brown haired girl (blondes aren’t allowed to be smart leads with otherworldly boyfriends) that narrates the show as she writes in her diary. It sucks but there are no eye pleasing males where I live so I make due via Verizon Fios.

At least on VD they don’t put white make up solely on the vampire’s faces that so obviously doesn’t match the rest of their skin like they did on Twilight. Hello! HDTV! Please keep up!

HBO’s True Blood is more adult oriented with loads of sex and the evil blonde vampire “Eric” is hot, but the lead characters annoy the shit out of me. I hate the South and when Paquin’s character “Sookie” speaks, I feel like my IQ drops a few points to acquire the translation.

At least whoever does the soundtracks for all these vamp viewings is on the same page as I am. Muse, Radiohead, and just about every other band fronted by a seemingly depressed dude that would make a decent bloodsucker are featured.

Well as bad as I am for watching this shit, you’re reading about me watching it.

Sad state of affairs isn’t it?

**RIP Carrie**

P As In Pterodactyl

Above: Me & Ben P. Chmura

"She she she shine on" Shine On - House of Love

Oh so glad Ben wasn't kicked off the first episode of Project Runway! Was great to have him back in Tampa. He's really a sweet guy and I hope he continues to do well. The party was great, and the after party was pretty wild too, as you can see below. I found a dude who was drunk, but asleep on his feet. This is one of many photos I took that kept some of us tards epically entertained for a good ten minutes:



I saw a funny cartoon about Pterodactyls today (http://theoatmeal.com/comics/ptero) that made me think of one of my odd quirks. Whenever I have to spell a "p" word out on the phone, I always say "P as in Pterodactyl". I'm an asshole, and I freely admit it.

At least I don't say "P as in PHONE", heheheh. =)

Necrotic Humliation

“You should know time's tide will smother you
And I will too
When you laugh about people who feel so very lonely
Their only desire is to die
Well, I'm afraid it doesn't make me smile
I wish I could laugh
But that joke isn't funny anymore” That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore – The Smiths.

I was enjoying a French dining experience with one of my favorite gays when he told me his month old relationship had gone to a yucky place. He thought they were doing well and suddenly the other guy just backed off and wouldn’t talk to him anymore. He asked what was going on and was met with “It’s complicated”.

“Next!” I shouted, waving my hand brutally to eschew the imagined fuckface that was hurting my adorably, dimpled sweetness of a friend. He said he tried to have a conversation for clarity, but ambivalent excuses were all that came up, if anything at all. He couldn’t explain how he felt.

“Humiliated?” I asked whilst cramming a crepe in my mouth, and he nodded with sad appreciation.

Ah “humiliation”; the unwittingly used tool of evil by the stultifying, spineless users of the world. They don’t have the foresight or brains to know they're doing it, but they're all cowards and that's why. They can’t take the confrontation of honesty for fear they may hear something they don’t like, but instead string someone along in avoidance of the uncomfortable, messy ten minutes it could take to give someone closure.

Humiliation is what breeds school and office shootings, but I’m talking on a more foundational level in which someone thinks all is ok and it’s not and they can’t get over the embarrassment of “not seeing” or whatever.

When you walk in on your live-in girlfriend and find her blowing someone on YOUR bed. How did you not know? How could you have been so wrong about someone and is that why she never blows you now? The obvious disappointment hurts yes, but the humiliation is often harder to handle.

When your man says “We need a break, it’s going too fast” and you back off never to hear from him again, that’s him avoiding having to face you and be honest. So now if you ever run into him, you’re the one embarrassed and humiliated.

I’ve had it happen once where someone that wanted to see and chat with me a lot just stopped, and when I asked him about it, he acted like nothing was wrong. Humiliating. You’re just a “use” for later, if necessary, if they can’t find someone better, or they just hope you’ll go away and they don’t have to be the one that was the “baddy”.

I broke up with some guys last year, and I was honest and up front on everything. Not one of them said anything horrible to me. They were disappointed, sure, but not humiliated, deceived, or misled. I was dead honest the second I felt that things weren’t going well and told them. Not one of them is home all fucked up asking themselves where they went wrong, or what they did to ruin things. I was very clear on what was and wasn’t working for me and what I need and wasn’t getting without being insulting or mean.

How hard is that? If you’re not over your EX and didn’t realize it till you were with someone else, SAY THAT. If you really like multiple relationships at once, SAY THAT. If you only like what you can’t have, SAY THAT (I have when it applied and I’m still alive).

If you don’t want to say “the sex sucks” (believe me, this last year has been adequate at best for me in this arena), then you say “I don’t think we have the chemistry I thought we would”. If you have tried to school them and they don’t get it or don’t want to learn to get it, tell them. If you were only interested in sex, tell them. If you don’t like their politics or religious attitudes and foresee issues there, TELL THEM!!

It’s not complicated, you feckless, insipid fucktards! It’s really simple. You don’t have the courage to ask for what you want so someone else suffers. Stupid shits like you are why therapists charge $120 an hour and STILL have an overflow of clientele. Your cowardice victimizes and humiliates. You are a good chunk of what pushes people to suicide and other lesser forms of self-abuse.

Your wish washy bullshit and lack of being in touch with who you are has a ripple effect. Your lame, hazy excuses are telling the other party that they are not worth the truth and they DON’T MATTER.

Is that worth it? Is that what you really want to say to someone “hey you aren’t worth telling truth to, you simply don’t matter”? Saying it like that will set someone off ay? But when you don’t tell the truth THAT is what you’re saying.

I would like to say everyone is worth the truth, but there are dangerous circumstances where lives depend on lies for safety from scary people and for survival, but I’m not talking about that. (Though one does wonder, had some kind honesty been in play, would these psychos have ended up that way to begin with?) People that are already lying to you and fucking you over aren't worth the truth either.

My poor little gay is hot, talented, and loveable and worth the truth. He matters and I kind of want to stab the person that made him feel otherwise.

Lying, vagueness, excuses, and lip service are so 2009. Truth, directness, culpability, and compassion are the '10s. Happy and healthy to you all in this new decade. Well, not you all, some of you can fuck off =)

NY SHE

"A thousand butterflies from your lips to mine"
Kiss of Life - Friendly Fires

Three weeks ago I was out with a friend discussing bands we wish we could see live. I was vehement that Friendly Fires should tour with The Yeah Yeah Yeahs and come to Florida.

Three days later I got an invite to a VIP party for designer Fred Perry at which Friendly Fires were doing a private show in NYC.

I had a week to get a flight and get there. No one else could drop everything to
go with me, even though I had comped plane tickets as well. I have friends and family
in NYC, I used to live there, but no one could go! Solo SHE.

The first person I saw upon entering was the actor Judah Friedlander. That and the open bar indicated to me that this would be at the very least, interesting.

I met loads of cool people including this awesome chick who is a mortician by day and a burlesque dancer by night. Oh yeah, she'll have a book out at some point. I had front and center for a f'excellent performance and got to meet the FF singer after. His face redefines male beauty and he was super nice, yet I wasn't attracted to him (as if he gives a fuck). Weird.


(click to enlarge)

Me w FF in the background. That dude with the camo undies behind me had BAD B.O.! Cab driver worthy.

I had a blast but couldn't get too trashed as that was the early part of the evening. I had to head to Soho for drinks with someone else after, and then I met these gorgeous girls that were DJ's from South America so I took them to a club where a friend of mine spins - more free drinks, yeesh. I became a vodka filter.



Next night I hung out with rock legend Lenny Kaye (google him you clueless fucks) and my friend Tom who is a legend himself. Somewhere there is footage of me playing bass with those two and Jeff Buckley at a Thanksgiving party in Brooklyn when I was just a young SHE. I'm not allowed to have it for reasons unknown =(


Lenny and I.

Oh yeah, I nearly forgot...I saw the space shuttle launch from my plane:

Mickey Slipped

“Blurred vision and dirty thoughts
Feel (out of place), very distraught
Feel something coming on”
Somebody Put Something In My Drink – The Ramones


The Tuesday before Halloween, my favorite holiday, I attended a masquerade martini party that was “invite only”, but there were people I didn’t know there; people with masks on.

I made my mask (above) deciding to go with a sort of white peacock with pronounced cleavage look (or mispronounced if that’s not your thing – you’d be surprised eh em).

My bestie and I stuck together on the two for one martinis, splitting as we went. Even though she can outdrink me 4 to 1, she was trying to slow her roll a bit. We both are conscious about not becoming “unconscious” drinkers.

Bestie placed a Black Dahlia in front of my feathered face and said we were sharing this LAST one, then we engaged in conversations with others.

Very soon after, I felt odd. I remember chatting with this one girl about bad kissers (see previous post) and then this guy kept kissing up on me that I didn’t know. I pushed him away and he said something to the effect of “Oh, you’re not ready yet”.

At the time, nothing made sense. I recall my friend who likes to fight getting into that guy’s face, telling him to back off of me. He plays for one of these Tampa sports franchises, so his intimidating build coupled with about 7 martinis and flaring, overconfident nostrils frightened the smoochy guy into exiting.

Everyone thought Bestie and I were just really wasted, and I was so out of it, I didn’t know what to think. That’s when the “barfs” hit. Bestie and I were in parallel stalls ralphing in tandem. Harmonized puking - the stomach song that has no words, just notes that distort your mouth and expel forcefully into the plumbing (with proper aim).

We never get sick from drink. I drank twice the amount at the same party the month before and was fine. Bestie is a pro, this upchucking was not her M.O. EVER, and I haven’t yakked from a drink since the last century.

We had been drugged. Luckily, it was the drink we shared so we had split the “Mickey”, if you will, and weren’t as bad off as we could’ve been, though we didn’t piece it together till the next day.

I’ve heard the horror stories from girls (and some guys too), but I had thought I was in a safe place. In many respects I was, as nothing happened, or did it?

Who knows what that shit did to my liver or something squishy and vital to my existence? I can still remember the Pythagorean Theorem today, but what if I can’t tomorrow? (As if knowing it at all changes anything.)

Scary when you think about what COULD happen. Makes me want to have a drink, but not a martini fo sho.

Cause and Affection

“I go crazy wondering what there is to really see
Did the night just take up your time, cause it means more to me
Sometimes I forget what I'm doing, I don't forget what I want,what I want
Regret what I've done, regret you? I couldn't go on” Kiss On My List – Hall & Oates

This year I met someone cool. I could be myself completely with him and he entertained ME just as much as I captivated him. He was so awesome that when I was with him, it made me forget. Yep, forget. I forgot about the mean people, the collateral damage done to me, the romantic injuries culminated over the last few years.

All was peachy until he kissed me. It was almost like he had a vendetta against this sensual act. It was soul-less and harsh; something akin to a disdainful, drive-by, flesh stab. I’ve had more passion from the gay dudes I’ve made out with. This guy wasn’t gay, at least his hands were proclaiming the opposite as they invaded me with vigor, but he wasn’t a kisser.

I asked what the deal was and he just looked puzzled. He had never thought about it, but upon reflection, he didn’t like to kiss anyone at all. It just wasn’t his thing.

I became uncomfortably numb. Here was a discovery I never expected to make. I can’t fathom anything sexual without kissing. It’s the gateway, the decision maker if you will, for most women as to whether NAKED happens later or not.

Not. Probably a good thing too as this would’ve had to be a long distance thing, and had he been 100% awesome, I’d be pining away until the next time we saw each other. I’m a kisser. Nothing provides more delight to me than a sweet, smooth, lip massage. =(

I met someone else that was ok - very cute, but too young. I wish I could be crazy about the ones that are crazy about me, dang. Against my better judgment, we hung out for a while, but he made me remember.

Yep, all the shit came flooding back to make rounds in my brain. The longings for what I can’t have (and shouldn’t want anyways), that trapped feeling of someone who likes you too much too fast, and the familiar need to bolt before I hurt them. I love the affection, and it’s been since like February that I’ve had it so genuine but it’s not right, or right enough it seems.

He can’t make me forget, and that’s what I want.

Nuh-Stah-See-Ya's Song

“I can already hear your tune
Calling me across the room
When the world and his wife
Are on my back again
Not enough pleasure
Too much pain” Swamp Thing – The Chameleons UK

If you have a peek at my Blogger profile it has a teeny, tiny listy of bands that I mentally ingest. The above mentioned band is VERY there, so it was with great honor to accept an invite to play a set of Chameleon’s tunes last Wednesday, with the founder/singer/bass player of the band, Mark Burgess.

I had my friend capture some of the event on video, but the sound on those are total shit so I’ve only included a small clip of “Swamp Thing” until I receive a copy of the “professional” dvd. It also sucks in that he only taped the half of the stage that I’m on, um duh! Of course I want to be somewhat visible, but I want everyone in it! I'm in the dark far right in the clip under that EXIT sign - Yeesh.

We had two rehearsals and only one with Mark. I’m not a keyboardist in general (played on six songs though yeay), so we basically pulled this out of our asses, but it went ok. I wasn’t in charge of the gig itself so I won’t comment on booking etc (grrrrr), but it was awesome not only to play those songs with the writer, but also the other dudes that performed as well.

The bass player, Brent, I had never met (he was on SubPop – Nirvana’s first label - with Beachwood Sparks) but we played a festival together with Sebadoh ages ago. He freaked me out a little because he looks and talks so much like Stalker Hater, it’s Discovery Channel worthy; my friends couldn’t stop laughing at the freaky similarity.



Above: Brent, Me, and Paul.

Musicians from Boston, D.C., Miami, and Tallahassee flew and drove to Tampa to play with Mark. Those that know the Chameleons LOVE them. They are obscure and basically an 80’s band, but they left heavy prints on any ear they landed on. Bands today that attribute their sound to Mark’s work are The Killers, Interpol, The Editors, and White Lies. In Tampa, the press could care less, but in L.A. (a real place) the show had all kinds of tongues wagging last night (http://blogs.laweekly.com/westcoastsound/synthful/mark-burgess-live/). There is rumor of me playing in a NYC show; if that happens, I'll mention beforehand =)

I yakked so much that I lost my voice, plus I got a cold. Most of the conversations were shop talk like “Hey you remember that narcoleptic guy that used to manage so & so before they hit it?” or “You know them too? I toured with them in blah blah”. Stuff civilians can’t relate to or you sound like a big old name dropper. Most of us in round about ways know the same people but at different times in our lives, it was interesting to say the least.

Doubly bizarre is now being friends with this man who was a mentor to me. It’s rare you get to meet someone from a different time that changed your life, let alone bond with them. I learned to sing and play bass at the same time because of Mark, and he also got me through one of the darkest hours of my teen years without knowing it.

I brought my 1966 Hofner Bass to rehearsal and he picked it up and played “P.S. Goodbye” on it:



I can’t tell you what that song means to me without tears forming a protest line down my cheeks, so I’ll skip it.

We started our set with “Nostalgia” at my behest, as it’s the only song I’ve ever heard that sounds sort of like my real name, and Mark said “Nuh Stah See Ya’s song”. We closed with a Door’s like version of “Second Skin” where he dedicated “this melody” to the backing members, which was cool.


Above: Mark, Omar, and me with creepy green earplugs that kept falling out.

When I dropped off Mark and his awesome girlfriend Lydia, after a wild Thursday evening of drinking and debauchery, he told me that not only was I the first female Chameleon, I was the ONLY one he ever shared the stage with.

(Sound of a feather being gently placed in my cap.)



Above: Mark, me and my cleavage yikes!

Kitler

"You say goodbye and I say hello
Hello, hello
I don't know why you say goodbye
I say hello" Hello Goodbye - The Beatles


I was on the dance floor when some belligerent troll was being escorted out of the club in a headlock, arms flailing about. A gentle hand guided me out of the path, and this sweet guy put himself between me and the mess that was provided by Jagermeister as it gyrated by.

"I like the whole gentleman thing you just did there," I said.

"I like your face,"he replied.

(Ding Ding Ding) My brain sorted through the rolodex of compliments, and that is one I actually have not received. Eyes, smile, lips, eyebrows even, but never had anyone said they liked my face. At least not in a while.

We yakked for two hours as we danced. He's fun, interesting, a photographer, 25 (the teetering shoe is about to drop), and from Denver.

"I'm only here for a week." (Buzzer sound)

Thanks for playing, we have some nice parting gifts for you - please exit to your left.

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

I told a drunken group of besties that I had read a blog by this Irish chick about ingrown boob hairs (One of Those Bad Boys), and most of them were amazed that hairs even grew in these remote areas.

I declared that if I can hatch some, I'm growing a Hitler type moustache under each nipple. Then I wondered aloud if the "soul patch" was actually just a relocated Hitler moustache? Like it fell below the lip and got a new name.

At that point, I was informed about this web site that only features cats that resemble Hitler - "Kitlers". http://www.catsthatlooklikehitler.com/cgi-bin/seigmiaow.pl

Key She

I was honored to play keyboards on six songs with some of the coolest people on the planet Wednesday evening. When I have more time, I'll tell you who, and you'll probably have to Google em heheh, but it meant a lot to me.

Count Smackula

“The emptiest of feelings
Disappointed people clinging on to bottles
And when it comes it's so so disappointing
Let down and hanging around
Crushed like a bug in the ground” Let Down – Radiohead

Wouldn’t it be awesome if people came with microchips that we could scan and were loaded with a sort of Wikipedia rundown of the person, or even like Amazon customer reviews?

“**---This girl has obvious daddy issues, but she is always well prepared and rocks in bed. She’s fun but doesn’t bathe nearly enough. She also lets her dog stick his tongue in her mouth. I gave her two stars because she is reliable, prompt, and has nice nostrils.”

Forewarned is forearmed right? It would be so nice to opt out of so much time and experiences with someone to find out the ugly side. Howz abouts some hints up front? Yes please!

Reliable.

I’m the type that when I say I’m going to do something, I DO IT. If for some reason I absolutely cannot, I profusely apologize and tongue kiss you until forgiven (unless we’re related).

“MAYBE” is such a fantastic word, I wish people would use it more. “Maybe I’ll show up to practice”, “Maybe if we still know each other we’ll be doing Halloween together”, or “Maybe when I come visit, I’ll take you to that restaurant.” I HATE people that say they’re going to do something and then don’t and aren’t even remotely in touch with an apology or accountability. “MAYBE” could’ve prevented a lot of ills for me.

Can anyone be counted on anymore? Culpability must be the uncoolest thing there is because humans would rather drown in oblivion than peer in the direction of this type of honesty.

In relationships, if the female early on says anything future related, dudes flip out and bail, even if the girl is just talking about next week. Girls, however, tend to think a guy really digs them if they talk in future tense, depending on what and when. I had only known one guy a few hours and he was like “I can see us living together.” I saw myself dedicating my life to Yugoslavian worm research before I could process his vision, so yeah, yikes times ten.

I had one guy actively pursue me, and when he spoke in future terms, I stupidly bought into it and oh how I hateth myself for that (not as much as I hate him though). When someone talks that way, it tricks you into thinking they’re someone you can count on – they'll be there for you, even in the future. Because of that experience, my trust levels are shakier than Michael J. Fox after a Starbucks run. Now if someone even hints “us” beyond a week, I tell them to cease, desist, and to please incorporate “MAYBES” until we are a thing, if it’s going that way.

Guys don’t talk future until you’ve been naked with a girl at least five times, please. You can get laid without such maneuvers and if you no likey afterwards, you can’t be hated for misleading the witness. Capiche?

Everyone else, if you commit to anything and can’t back it up, fucking apologize already. It’s the very least you can do. Acknowledgment of the other person’s feelings IS a big deal.

Recognize.

Emo Scarfish

“How can I? How can I?
How can I make my body shed for you
How can I? How can I?
How can I make my body shed around your metal scars?
Loretta's scars, Loretta's scars, Loretta's scars”
Loretta’s Scars – Pavement

I was hanging out with some teenage boys a couple of weeks ago, and they were good guys, but I felt bad for them because they have an abusive, religious dad and a wicked step-Cunt that take the act of deception to the sickest of levels.

Their background story is so sad that even the folks at Lifetime would be like “Please stop, really even we can’t…just stop!”

The one is going to be 16 soon and this week he found that horrific place that we all do with someone at some point. That place where things between you and some Fuckface are beyond repair. He had tried to talk to his dad about easing up and was shut down for the last time. Now he’s sentenced to a life of listening to Staind and an unforgettable feeling of not being heard when it’s needed most (which is nearly as excruciating as being subjected to Staind).

Emotional scarring, in my opinion, happens when a Fuckface reaches in and breaks off a part of you that they don’t caress, value, or nurture. No they look at you, smile, and then shatter that part into 472,000 pieces. Poof, it’s dead. Maybe it’s your spirit that’s sapped or your humor (mine has been decimated in the last two years), but you can never go back to how it was before (if you can, then by all means please tell me how). Beyond repair.

There’s a void when parts die and we humans try our damnedest to shove squares where only circles belong. Fame, alcohol, drugs, cigarettes, food, sex, and what have you will never feel as good as the missing part did (imitation crab ya dig?). I wonder if the parts are originally stolen because the Fuckface in question had so many of their own missing that maybe they thought a part of another could make them whole again. Is it an unconscious act, or are they just plain evil?

Beyond repair?

Maybe we can pretend we’re starfish and grow our parts back?

Expensively Free

“I want you to know
He's not coming back
Look into my eyes
It's the only way you'll know I'm telling the truth
So knives out” Knives Out – Radiohead

The truth is like a crime scene; no entry without latex gloves or they aren’t allowed anywhere near it’s fragile state. It’s messy and few have the stomach for it. Many have to make rank and show brevity to handle truth, but even then you can only take so much, I suppose.

Everybody says they want the truth, but only in theory. When confronted with it, most often stagger and stammer as if they were just told that the word “the” was removed from all of language.

“Honest to a fault”. In some ways that’s me. I know how to compartmentalize truth, as in not revealing everything just because it’s true, but I also can’t pretend shit didn’t happen when it did.

I was willing to have a go at it, but I foresaw an outcome that didn’t benefit anyone, especially me. I let some truth slip out that I swore would never be revealed, but it was in anger and I partly regret it. I didn’t need to explain myself to the ears that heard it, but somehow there was relief in finally putting it out into the ether.

It’s been a tough year for me, I’ve not written about all my truths. Some were life changing. One felt like it was life stopping. Well, life as I knew it stopped, but when I accepted it, it resolved itself. The exit of this issue was just as harsh as the entrance, and though I’m relieved on a thousand levels, I find myself in days of grief concerning it too. I know the pain of swallowing truth before it’s properly chewed, but I feast on it anyways.

The misery of lying is something I consistently write about. Maybe I’m a little hardass when it comes to this human oddity (my cat never lies to me – the one, the other not only lies, she also specializes in extortion), but I think it’s because I know too much. I did some pre-law in college where you basically learn to lie or catch someone in one. I read scads of books on the “tells” and body language. I love shows like “Law & Order CI” where Donofrio’s character is the consummate behaviorist or “Lie To Me”, which is all about the facial expressions in liars.

I wonder if I’ll always be alone because of this as it’s fascinating till you realize how much people lie, then it jades you.

I confronted one of the worst liars ever a few hours ago. He embraced every pitfall like he was trying out for the lying Olympics. Never before have I wanted to believe someone so badly but knew it was futile. The “tells” told on him.

The truth shall set you free. You’ll be hated, but free.

Thinkies

“You'd say I'm putting you on
But it's no joke, it's doing me harm
You know I can't sleep, I can't stop my brain
You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane
You know I'd give you everything I've got
for a little peace of mind” I’m So Tired - The Beatles

I know I should be asleep and I am tired, but when I know I have to get up, THAT’S when I definitely cannot sleep. The clock just stabbed my eyes with it’s 4 hour countdown warning.

I can’t sleep when I’m excited and I’m in anticipation mode where my brain can’t shut the fuck up. It’s odd the things that bounce through Thoughtland when one gets like this.

Tonight my thinkies are about how much I hate musicals and theatrical productions. I used to live by Times Square in NYC near the Theatre District, but would’ve considered an evening of waterboarding accompanied by some staple gun art to the tops of my feet over sitting through a Broadway production.

I would much prefer to watch someone break into my house with ill intent than witness some overly happy gaggle of dancing idiots break into song on a stage. I really just can’t fathom how people find this entertaining at all.

I don’t hate all plays, but I’m not a huge fan of those either. I love movies, so long as they aren’t musicals. Grease being the only exception, as for some reason 30 something year olds passing themselves off as high school students is way too funny to be irritating.

Performers that have back up dancers cut it too close to musicals. I wonder what it is about choreographed dancers and singers that bugs the shit out of me?

The only thing worse than sitting through one of these events is an awards show celebrating such things. I have never watched the “Tony” awards show, and I hope I never meet anyone that has.

Ouch, three and half hours and counting.

Necky

Above: My neck & my bestie D.


“My neck, my back
Lick my ... just like that” My Neck, My Back - Khia

Isn’t it strange how much certain body parts have standards of beauty, yet others go on ignored? Long legs, broad shoulders, muscles, breasts, butts, feet, but you never hear of anyone having an elbow or eyelid fetish. Well, you may have, but not I.

I wouldn’t say I have a “fetish” per se, but I have things that inspire an appearance of the old horns, I must say. I loves me some shaggy hair, piercing eyes, super skinny body, but more than anything I like a long, almost birdlike neck. Maybe I was a horny ostrich in a former life, but I so dig that Ichabod Crane looking neck with a prominent Adam’s Apple. Fat or super muscular dudes don’t have these (unless they’re hiding under years of steroidal use or Chocodiles) but they creep me out anyways.

Elongated necks to an extreme are revered in some African and Asian cultures where heavy steel rings actually weigh down the collarbone and ribs till the wearer looks like E.T. . That is not something I would ever subscribe to or recommend, unless you have virtually NO neck, which I do find sort of creepy too.



The culture I grew up in isn’t into that Ubangi look, but we do like a nice long neck on our dancers, models, etc. Short-necked women are obsolete in ballet, but are prevalent in the sports world as are a plethora of short, thick necked men, and oddly enough film portrays most monsters and creepy villains with those same type of guys.





My favorite film neck belongs to the sexiest man on the planet, Cillian Murphy.




The hottest looking neck in the music world definitely sits below the head of Johnny Greenwood of Radiohead (best everything else belongs to Damian Kulash of OK Go, mmmmm).



I like all things neck related, not just kissy stuff, I love neck massages, singing, I occasionally make my own chokers with buffalo bone beads, and when I was younger I was really into vampire movies, books, and whatnot. I think necks are beautiful and it’s a damn shame that they’re the one thing you can’t surgically repair when age kicks in. You can Botox and stretch your eyebrows back to your ass, but the neck is yet to be savable.

The "waddle" is inevitable, unless you die young.

Honest Cheat?

“I don’t wanna be your friend
I just wanna be your lover
No matter how it ends
No matter how it starts” House of Cards - Radiohead


I’ve never cheated on anyone I was seeing, but I have kissed some dudes that were in relationships with others, and I think the last guy I was with had a girlfriend. I can’t be sure but I do know when I was taking a grand tour of him with my tongue he said something to the effect of “I’m not used to being with someone that’s not my girlfriend”. This could’ve been taken a few different ways but I’m sensitive and completely shut down when there is even the slightest mention of another girl if I’m next to you naked.

My ego bruises easily and I refuse to hide that fact, but I think I do stupid things because I don’t know how to be when it does happen. I would’ve also have preferred to know beforehand that the cheater was cheating with me. Not even for the guilt factor, but self preservation. Knife wielding girlfriends are not worth a little slip n’ slide with just anyone, and I also don’t want to get too cozy with someone I can’t be with again. That’s just how I’m built.

Guilt can factor in depending on the specs of the situation. For one, if both members of the couple in question are under 25 and the guy is just someone I’m physically into but not boyfriend material, I’m ok as long as I’m well schooled on the truth up front. 90% of all couples getting together before the age of 25 break up when the guy hits that mark or 29. If either of them are over 25 or I know the other party, I’m not willing to consider any sort of arrangement.

I don’t know if I would actually do it, but because I’m so geographically challenged and don’t really meet guys I dig mentally, I can’t say I wouldn’t. I hate going months or years (yes have done that) without affection. It’s horrible, but I also own that it’s my fault that I’m picky and don’t know how to deal with what this area has to offer. Anything penis related that my eyes can be talked into has a built in lying mechanism that doesn’t have an “off” switch. Not the typical lying shit (women, drugs, etc.), they lie about everything. It’s near to the point of comical, but loses it’s novelty when you realize it’s a local phenomenon. I’ve only lived in Michigan, DC, and NYC besides here, but never have I witnessed the scale of lies that epically emerge from this locale.

The inherent dishonest factor seems like it would prevent the cheater from giving me the proper low down so it’s almost crazy for me to think this would ever occur. The honest cheat? Can you imagine an admitted liar? I think I would sort of like someone that told me they honestly lie all the time, well at least for ten minutes.

I don’t cheat, but I lie when I’ve been served one first. I never miss when I hit one back either.

Brain's Addiction

“You know it hurts so bad just like I knew that it would
But I'd do it again, do it again if I could”
No One Sleeps When I’m Awake - The Sounds

Remember the movie “Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind” where they could effectively remove someone from your memory? Wouldn’t that be awesome? I’d do it, given the opportunity, but wonder if Pheromones would screw it up? I mean, if you’re physically enslaved to someone by these types of hormones, wouldn’t it bi-pass memory? I think there should be a mechanism installed into our brains that prevents us from being attracted to people that won’t be attracted to us. That would be truly entertaining, if for nothing else, at least to see what Hugh Hefner and other creepy, rich, old dudes can really scare up.

I was contacted over the holiday weekend by someone in love with the guy I was seeing six months ago, who unfortunately, still has it bad for me and keeps sending this fucking drama my way. I’ve expressed my lack of interest in being friends with the X and he’s even seen me with someone else, but he still can‘t let go. It’s not logical at all, but it makes sense if it’s hormonal. I sort of empathize as I know I’m vulnerable to a person that I cannot explain why, but would sleep with even though he’s a dirt bag and hates me. I want to hate him, and I’m sure I do somewhere (in my elbows for sure I hate him), but I also know if he came on to me, I wouldn’t be able to resist. It’s the Pheromones; has to be because I don’t look at this person any way but sexually. I don’t think I could ever be friends with him, but then I think it’s hard for people to go back to that once they see each other a certain way maybe?

I know that women can only be friends with their male X’s if it’s THEIR decision to break it off. If the guy is the one who no longer desires her, it’s too painful to the ego to be friends. If you want to break up with a chick and want to keep it peaceful, it has to be her decision to part ways. If we have sex with you, until we decide we’re done, we aren’t done. Them’s the rules unless otherwise discussed pre-erection. We’re sexualized in a way that men can’t be (nor ever understand) so if we can’t be the “deciders”, we want you dead. That’s our nature. Best to find a subtle way to turn us off or suffer the consequences, trust me. If a woman says they aren’t like this, you’re either paying them, or they’re lying.

The following are what scares me off quicker than telling me you’re a Republican or you “just found Jesus Christ as your personal lord and savior”: talk of marriage, talk of kids, calling me constantly, calling me constantly with nothing to say, non stop yapping about yourself, chewing loudly with your mouth open, super jealousy, being hypercritical, getting lazy in bed (unless your hands have been blown off in active duty or some other heroic measure, they had better be all over me NOT behind your head), talking about other chicks THAT way (in bed is an automatic death sentence), drug use, mother haters, animal haters (if you‘ve ever killed any mammal on purpose without the reason of self defense, EW and please stay away from me), racism, sexism, your profound love of Country Music, wearing tighty whiteys, bad manners, bad spellers, and severe, constant mispronunciation.

Some of that stuff would make me hate, so if the aim was to end things as friends, subtlety is the way to go.

The smothering is the hardest thing for me to take. Women like to feel desired, and once I’ve gotten intimate with someone, I like to have that continue but without the smother. "Smothering" and "positively attentive" can be just a difference in wording. For example, a great text to get the day after a GREAT night would be “Oy girl, I can’t walk. AWESOME! When you going to break me again?” not “I miss you” followed by three phone calls to see “what‘s up?” You can’t be all sappy like that until it’s a LOVE thing (even then, one phone call is enough). No one waits till they're in love to have sex (that I’m aware of), but no one wants to hear NOTHING after they’ve parked naked on you for any given amount of time either. It’s not smothering to contact someone; it’s HOW you do it and HOW OFTEN. I like to feel sought after but not depended on. If someone doesn’t contact me the next day, I feel bad, every girl does. They've just risked pregnancy or death with you, how else are they going to feel? Again, if a female says she isn’t like this, you’re either paying her, or she’s lying.

Pheromones. Fair? Not even slightly. Moans? If you’re lucky. Lobotomy? Soon!