Today I received two great DVDs from Amazon. They are two of my favorite TV shows, Twin Peaks and My So Called Life. Of course they were both out of print, so this year I bought them both for a lot of money on Ebay and then like five minutes later it was announced that they were both being released on DVD again with all kinds of special features. Now if only “thirtysomething” would finally come out on DVD, I’d be so happy. Sometimes I think I’m only staying alive for TV shows to be released on DVD.
Today I am supposed to be working from home, so I’m at a café, writing. I’m glad the café I’m at is not crowded like usual. Every place you go in LA, no matter what time of day it is, is crowed, just like the freeways. What really bugs me is that even when a café is very crowded, people in LA will still take up two tables. One table for their laptops and one table for their belongings. People in LA are either clueless or just don’t care about other people or both.
Last night, as I was trying to sneak out from work, my new coworker (it was her second day) told me she had some questions and that she’d like to speak to me after work. I asked her if she wanted to go for coffee. When we were trying to leave, her car wasn’t starting up. She was very low on gas, so she took out a gas can from her backseat and proceeded to check if there was any gas left by opening it and turning it upside down. Gasoline spilled out onto her hands and my shoes. I thought that was a very odd way to check if there was any gas left.
Once we got her car filled and working we went to a cafe that was trying to close in Santa Monica. Every time we sat down, we were told to move. First we were inside the café,, but the café worker told us they were closing, so we moved outside and then he came outside and said he has to move the tables inside, so we sat on a bench and continued our conversation. After a little while, the guy from the café told us to move again because the sprinklers were about to go off. We almost got wet, but we got up in time. All in all, it was a weird evening.
I knew that this new coworker was wondering about the weird things at the job and primarily our weird and mean boss. I said to her, “I bet you want to know just how crazy he is.” She said she did want to know, so I told her all the crazy stories and how I think our boss is kind of bipolar and that he has narcissistic personality disorder (which he matched the criteria when I looked it up in the DMS-IV).
I told her that today had been a good day because he was actually wearing a shirt during the workday. (We work in his home so he likes to keep things casual). I told her not to go near the hammock in the backyard, not to sit in it and certainly not to sit in it with the boss. I told her that’s why the marketing director isn’t here anymore. (It’s a long story). I basically told her not to engage the boss in any chit chat and to try to look busy no matter what she was doing and to redirection him when he gets mad at her.
She told me she wasn’t sure if she was going to continue working for him. I told her that I felt the same, but I was happy to finally have someone to talk to at work. I told her how I fantasized about quitting and how I daydream all the time about the boss firing me so I can be free.
But all of that doesn’t matter right now. I am going to Austin tomorrow. I am going there to see if I might want to move there. I’ve planned some stuff to do and met some people online, but I don’t know a soul there yet. I will be there for six days. I will spend all my time there exploring the city and pretending to myself that I live there. I dream about leaving LA everyday. I think about it quite a lot. I’m not sure what I’ll do if I don’t like Austin. Maybe I’ll find some place else. There’s got to be more to life than waiting for TV shows to be released on DVD.
Today’s song is Sarah Brightman with “Deliver Me’. I picked this song because I need to be delivered to someplace else…FAST.
Sarah Brightman—Deliver Me
http://www.zshare.net/audio/4516572c5af93b
October 30, 2007
October 26, 2007
When my mother put her foot through the wall
When I was in 2nd grade I got pink eye three times. It was awful. Whenever one of my friends who has a kid with pink eye, I stay far away because I never want to go through that again.
Every night I my mother would put these eye drops in my eyes and they made my eyes sting. When I awoke in the morning, my eyes would be sealed shut with some horrible brown crusty stuff. Opening my eyes was very painful because my eyelashes would be pulled out as I was trying to open them.
Eventually I refused the eyedrops and my mother would have to pin me down with her knees and she’d try to get the eyedrops in my eyes, but I would move at the last minute or just close my eyes tightly. She became very frustrated because it was talking a long time and the eyedrop medicine was very expensive. She’d scream and yell at me to stay still and open my eyes, but she was never able to get the drops in my eyes. She got so mad that she got up and put her bare foot through the wall. After she did that, I stayed still and let her put the drops in my eyes.
We had to hide the hole in the wall from my father, which was easy to do because he was never very observant and the hole was behind my bedroom door. My father never beat us or anything like that, he just would get so angry and follow you around the house, yelling, so my mother and I were always trying to avoid having to go thorough that.
I have a problem with anger too. Someone once told me I should do “anger exercises”, but I don’t like to exercise. Sometimes anger is the only thing that wakes me up and the only time I’m in the moment.
Today’s song is by Eurythmics with “You Have Placed A Chill in my Heart” This is one of the best songs I’ve ever heard. It fits the angry mood. It was released as a single in 1988. I used to have the 12” single. I love Annie Lennox’s voice. Is there anyone still singing like this? I mean, besides Annie.
I am posting three versions and the video.
Eurythmics- You Have Placed a Chill in My Heart (chill mix)
This is the hard to find single version.
http://www.zshare.net/audio/4478156bc23c8d
Eurythmics- You Have Placed a Chill in My Heart (dance mix)
This is the extended dance mix
http://www.zshare.net/audio/4478057cc9a3f2
Eurythmics- You Have Placed a Chill in My Heart (acoustic)
this is the acoustic and very passionate version.
http://www.zshare.net/audio/4478022c0d412d
Here’s the video, one of my favorites.
Every night I my mother would put these eye drops in my eyes and they made my eyes sting. When I awoke in the morning, my eyes would be sealed shut with some horrible brown crusty stuff. Opening my eyes was very painful because my eyelashes would be pulled out as I was trying to open them.
Eventually I refused the eyedrops and my mother would have to pin me down with her knees and she’d try to get the eyedrops in my eyes, but I would move at the last minute or just close my eyes tightly. She became very frustrated because it was talking a long time and the eyedrop medicine was very expensive. She’d scream and yell at me to stay still and open my eyes, but she was never able to get the drops in my eyes. She got so mad that she got up and put her bare foot through the wall. After she did that, I stayed still and let her put the drops in my eyes.
We had to hide the hole in the wall from my father, which was easy to do because he was never very observant and the hole was behind my bedroom door. My father never beat us or anything like that, he just would get so angry and follow you around the house, yelling, so my mother and I were always trying to avoid having to go thorough that.
I have a problem with anger too. Someone once told me I should do “anger exercises”, but I don’t like to exercise. Sometimes anger is the only thing that wakes me up and the only time I’m in the moment.
Today’s song is by Eurythmics with “You Have Placed A Chill in my Heart” This is one of the best songs I’ve ever heard. It fits the angry mood. It was released as a single in 1988. I used to have the 12” single. I love Annie Lennox’s voice. Is there anyone still singing like this? I mean, besides Annie.
I am posting three versions and the video.
Eurythmics- You Have Placed a Chill in My Heart (chill mix)
This is the hard to find single version.
http://www.zshare.net/audio/4478156bc23c8d
Eurythmics- You Have Placed a Chill in My Heart (dance mix)
This is the extended dance mix
http://www.zshare.net/audio/4478057cc9a3f2
Eurythmics- You Have Placed a Chill in My Heart (acoustic)
this is the acoustic and very passionate version.
http://www.zshare.net/audio/4478022c0d412d
Here’s the video, one of my favorites.
October 24, 2007
The time I killed my grandfather
My Grandfather was always quiet. He almost never spoke. The only time he really spoke to me was in the bathtub. I wrote a poem about it.
Leonard
“I see men who look like you.
They somehow have your pointy ears.
I can see them in your sailor clothing, 1943.
You'd be thrilled I neglected to tell
my father of your death.
You'd be consoled to know I kept your
memory intact by not going to your funeral.
My mother called you the silent man,
but you had plenty to say to me.
You conversed freely when you were in the tub
with your penis protruding through the clear water,
and your wet dark body hair covering everywhere
but the top of your head.
I was called into the bathroom by you.
I tried not to stare at your nudity
exhibited for me to view.
I always wondered why you would only talk to me
when you were in the tub.
I've heard that men inherit the body hair traits
of their maternal grandfathers
Will I also be inheriting
your little perversions as well?”
After I showed this poem to my mother, she said, “I didn’t think you were this deep.” and “He did that to you too?” Her reaction was kind of a double insult. If he did that to her (and she always implied that he did some worse things to her), why did she allow me to be alone with him? Why did he only talk when he was in the bathtub with an erection?
The first time I visited Las Vegas after my grandparents moved there, he took me for a ride down the Las Vegas strip. It was daytime, but all the Vegas lights were on. The whole time we drove, he pointed out all the palm trees by saying “There’s a tree. Oh, there’s a tree.” He never pointed out any of the casinos or the lights or any of the interesting things on the Las Vegas strip.
As we were driving, the front window started fogging up. He took a white t-shirt he had in the backseat and started clearing the foggy window and did this every time the window fogged up. I showed him that he could use the defogger on the car and he was amazed. He didn’t know that the defogger existed. He had just been using the shirt.
I killed my grandfather. Well, kind of. When I was working for a horrible home shopping company (the initials are similar to QVC; ok it was QVC) as an order entry person, I wanted a few days off. I told my supervisor (who was a grown woman with braces and a lot of barrettes in her hair) that my grandfather died and I had to go to the funeral. She told me that I would need to bring proof of the funeral from the minister.
This led to a whole other discussion where I explained I was Jewish and what a rabbi was. She seemed to have never heard of a one before. She told me in order to be excused from work, I’d need a rabbi’s signature. Since I didn’t know how’d I get a rabbi’s signature, I told her that it wasn’t that important and that I just wouldn’t go to his funeral.
I didn’t get the days off and a few weeks later my grandfather, who wasn’t that old and who wasn’t even sick, died. I can’t remember what he died of, other than me saying he died. This happens a lot when I pretend to be sick to get out of work. I always actually get sick when I pretend.
After “killing” grandpa, I never pretend that a real person died just to get out of work, unless I was really mad at someone. Grandpa’s the only person I’ve ever killed (yet).
After my grandfather’s funeral (which actually I didn’t go to), my grandma called me up and told me that since Grandpa died first, when she dies, she would be buried on top of him. She told me she had never been on top before.
Today’s song is “Grandma’s Hands” by Barbra Streisand. I know many hate Barbra, but in this forgotten song from 1974, she sings in a way I’ve never heard her sing, uncontrolled and very passionately. The album “Butterfly” which contains this song is really quite interesting and one of my favorite albums. I picked this song because if you read my entry and then listen to the song, it becomes kind of perverted, like my grandfather.
Barbra Streisand—Grandma’s Hands
http://www.zshare.net/audio/4430537e0072f5/
“What you want to spank him for?”
Leonard
“I see men who look like you.
They somehow have your pointy ears.
I can see them in your sailor clothing, 1943.
You'd be thrilled I neglected to tell
my father of your death.
You'd be consoled to know I kept your
memory intact by not going to your funeral.
My mother called you the silent man,
but you had plenty to say to me.
You conversed freely when you were in the tub
with your penis protruding through the clear water,
and your wet dark body hair covering everywhere
but the top of your head.
I was called into the bathroom by you.
I tried not to stare at your nudity
exhibited for me to view.
I always wondered why you would only talk to me
when you were in the tub.
I've heard that men inherit the body hair traits
of their maternal grandfathers
Will I also be inheriting
your little perversions as well?”
After I showed this poem to my mother, she said, “I didn’t think you were this deep.” and “He did that to you too?” Her reaction was kind of a double insult. If he did that to her (and she always implied that he did some worse things to her), why did she allow me to be alone with him? Why did he only talk when he was in the bathtub with an erection?
The first time I visited Las Vegas after my grandparents moved there, he took me for a ride down the Las Vegas strip. It was daytime, but all the Vegas lights were on. The whole time we drove, he pointed out all the palm trees by saying “There’s a tree. Oh, there’s a tree.” He never pointed out any of the casinos or the lights or any of the interesting things on the Las Vegas strip.
As we were driving, the front window started fogging up. He took a white t-shirt he had in the backseat and started clearing the foggy window and did this every time the window fogged up. I showed him that he could use the defogger on the car and he was amazed. He didn’t know that the defogger existed. He had just been using the shirt.
I killed my grandfather. Well, kind of. When I was working for a horrible home shopping company (the initials are similar to QVC; ok it was QVC) as an order entry person, I wanted a few days off. I told my supervisor (who was a grown woman with braces and a lot of barrettes in her hair) that my grandfather died and I had to go to the funeral. She told me that I would need to bring proof of the funeral from the minister.
This led to a whole other discussion where I explained I was Jewish and what a rabbi was. She seemed to have never heard of a one before. She told me in order to be excused from work, I’d need a rabbi’s signature. Since I didn’t know how’d I get a rabbi’s signature, I told her that it wasn’t that important and that I just wouldn’t go to his funeral.
I didn’t get the days off and a few weeks later my grandfather, who wasn’t that old and who wasn’t even sick, died. I can’t remember what he died of, other than me saying he died. This happens a lot when I pretend to be sick to get out of work. I always actually get sick when I pretend.
After “killing” grandpa, I never pretend that a real person died just to get out of work, unless I was really mad at someone. Grandpa’s the only person I’ve ever killed (yet).
After my grandfather’s funeral (which actually I didn’t go to), my grandma called me up and told me that since Grandpa died first, when she dies, she would be buried on top of him. She told me she had never been on top before.
Today’s song is “Grandma’s Hands” by Barbra Streisand. I know many hate Barbra, but in this forgotten song from 1974, she sings in a way I’ve never heard her sing, uncontrolled and very passionately. The album “Butterfly” which contains this song is really quite interesting and one of my favorite albums. I picked this song because if you read my entry and then listen to the song, it becomes kind of perverted, like my grandfather.
Barbra Streisand—Grandma’s Hands
http://www.zshare.net/audio/4430537e0072f5/
“What you want to spank him for?”
Last Night I slept on sheets the color of Fire
I’m a Scorpio. The sex sign. My birthday is coming up, but I’m not going to celebrate it this year. I am, however, going to take off work. I’ve never gone to school or work on my birthday.
I’m told constantly by my boyfriends that I have a high sex drive. I still like to come at least three times a day. I’m still on my eternal search for The One that can have sex with me all the time like I like it.
I love porn. I’ve always wanted to be in porn, but I never did it because I never thought I was good looking enough to be in porn. It used to be that I thought I was too skinny, now I’m too fat (at least in the waistline). I’ve decided to give up working out. It never “works out” for me (ha-ha). I don’t like exercising.
Today was a hot day and everything in California is burning up. No one here seems to care. Whether things are on fire or not, no one in LA has much of an opinion or reaction to anything. This is the like land of the walking dead, except in LA no one walks.
Back to sex now. When my parents first got a VCR, they used to rent porn a lot. When they got cable, they would sometimes order pay per view porn, but my father didn’t like it because they didn’t show everything.
I always wondered why my parents never went on vacation together. My father never took vacations and my mother always took her vacations with other people. Years later, I asked the cleaning lady, Kay, why my parents never took vacations together. She told me that they did once before I was born, but my mother said she’d never take another vacation with my father because all he wanted to do was stay in the hotel room and have sex. This shocked me. Not the sex part, but because it was Assembly of God, religious Kay who bluntly told me this. Even though she raised me, she and I had never talked about sex. The only thing I remember even close was when I was little and I would play with myself under the blanket, she’d slap away my hand.
When I asked my mother about what Kay had said, she told me that she wanted to have sex, just not with my father. She said she had to get stoned to have sex with him.
When my parents were watching porn, they’d either send me upstairs and I’d listen to the sound of the porn from the upstairs hallway or they’d send me to go play outside. I remember being 8 or 9 at the time and being told to go play outside and standing on a tall snow bank and looking though the window and watching the porn (I couldn’t hear it, just see it) and watching my parents watch the porn.
They never did pull the shades down when they watched porn, but I guess there really wasn’t much to watch (well, except the porn, of course). My father would sit against the wall in front of the TV with his left hand down his pants and my mother would lie down on the couch and read a book while glancing occasionally at the TV. She’d usually fall asleep at some point.
I was fascinated by the porn. The thing I wondered most about was if the cum shots were real. My thinking was since blood is not real in movies, why would cum be, but I also couldn’t figure out how they’d get the “fake” cum to shoot out like that.
My mother told me I could watch the porn later, if I wanted to, after they went to bed. (My favorite porn movie was called "Rick Quick: Private Dick".) My mother was one of those open moms (not really, but she thought she was). She was always too open about all the wrong things and not open at all about the things I would have liked to be open about.
This started my long love affair with porn. Now porn is everywhere. It’s a pornographic society we live in. Everyone seems to have that porno sheen about him or her. Everyone looks like they just got done shooting a porn and missed a few spots while cleaning up.
Today’s song is “Boys In The Trees” from 1978 by Carly Simon. This is a song filled with incredible imagery and captures sexual awakening quite well.
Carly Simon—Boys In The Trees
http://www.zshare.net/audio/443009541e7844
"Here I grew guilty
And no one was at fault
Frightened by the power
In every innocent thought
Last night I slept in sheets the color of fire
Tonight I lie alone again
And I curse my own desires
Sentenced first to burn and then to freeze"
October 23, 2007
It's time to let you go...
I moved to San Francisco for school in 1994. Actually, I didn’t want to go to school, but I had a trust fund and the only way I could gain access to the money is to go to college. At least this is what my father told me. The trust fund came from my super rich republican grandfather and my father is his accountant, which means he gave out the money.
On my moving day, August 16, 1994, my father took me to the airport. I remember having a small CD player with me, a backpack and an overstuffed suitcase. I shipped all my belongings including my television. I had no furniture that year at that apartment.
My father and I didn’t talk about much during the drive to the airport or while waiting for the plane to takeoff. When it was time to board the plane, I hugged my dad and said goodbye. I handed my ticket to the boarding gate attendant and turned back to wave a final goodbye to my father. I was shocked to see his head in his hands, sobbing.
I had the urge to run back and hug him, but I had already given my ticket to the gate attendant, so there was no turning back. Once I was on the plane and sitting down, I thought “Fuck You”. I was mad because my father waits until the very last minute to show me that he cares about me and now it’s too late because I have to get on a plane.
I wrote this poem on the plane on the way to San Francisco:
20 Years
“When he said goodbye to me at the airport
And I was in the line,
About to enter the plane,
About to move to San Francisco,
I turned back to wave a final goodbye
Before he was out of my view.
I was shocked to see his head in his hands,
Hunched over shaking.
He was crying.
My own father crying!
He was crying about me!
I had been ignored for twenty years
And finally, now he had acknowledged my existence.
When the plane rode around the take off strip
And the flight attendants pointed the way to the exits,
I knew then that I couldn't go back
Emotions weren't going to interfere with
My plans to get away.
I waited twenty years.
He can wait until he's dead.”
It seems that whenever someone gets emotional with me, I get angry. I have a history of that. I thought my father was the unemotional one, but really, it’s me. Emotions embarrass me. I love to write about feelings and express them in writing, but being emotional in the real world is not for me.
The song I picked for this entry is from 1994. It’s Bonnie Raitt with “Circle Dance”, a song about parents and relationships.
Bonnie Raitt--Circle Dance
http://www.zshare.net/audio/4409167bc6015d/
“Now that this has occurred to me
I just wanted you to know
I've been too faithful all my lifeIt's time to let you go.”
October 21, 2007
Piano Lessons with Mrs. Erickson
I took piano lessons from a lady up the street named Mrs. Erickson. She had a sing songy voice and she was patient and sweet. I didn’t really like her much. What I mean is I didn’t like piano lessons much. The thing that drove me crazy was that I was expected to play the music without the sheet music when they held the piano recital for all the students. I never understood why it had to be done this way and Mrs. Erickson never was willing to explain the reason to me.
My piano lessons were always on Wednesday evenings and they ended right when a new episode of Charlie’s Angels was on. My favorite part of Charlie’s Angels was the incredible opening theme song with the angels running around and those silhouettes. When my piano lesson was done, I would run home as fast as could to see the opening credits. This was before we had a VCR. Usually I’d make it home just as Tanya Roberts (this was the last season of Charlie’s Angels, 1980-1981) was riding on top of a car trying to hold on during the opening credits. She was always my least favorite angel.
I had spent a lot of time practicing for my first upcoming piano recital. When I say practicing, I mean going once a week for piano lessons and practicing there because I never practiced at home. I didn’t like going to piano lessons, so why should I bother practicing?
The piano recital was held at Mrs. Erickson’s home. My parents came to see me play. The piece I was playing was called “Fluffy The Puppy”. When it came time for me to play, I did ok for the first three notes and then I forgot the rest of the song and just kind of improvised. It sounded off key. I looked out at my parents and saw them sinking in their chairs. They avoided eye contact with me. I played through and finished the song in my own way. There was some slight applause.
I wasn’t embarrassed by my performance because I thought the rule about having no sheet music at the recital was stupid and I was going to show Mrs. Erickson that I thought so and show my parents that I didn’t want to have to go to piano lessons anymore.
After the recital was over, my parents pretended they didn’t know me and they walked home without me. I never had to go to piano lessons again.
Today’s song is Fake Empire by The National from their 2007 album Boxer. It’s a pretty good album. I picked this song because it’s one of my current favorites and it has a piano in it. Wow.
The National—Fake Empire
http://www.zshare.net/audio/43661884689b42/
My piano lessons were always on Wednesday evenings and they ended right when a new episode of Charlie’s Angels was on. My favorite part of Charlie’s Angels was the incredible opening theme song with the angels running around and those silhouettes. When my piano lesson was done, I would run home as fast as could to see the opening credits. This was before we had a VCR. Usually I’d make it home just as Tanya Roberts (this was the last season of Charlie’s Angels, 1980-1981) was riding on top of a car trying to hold on during the opening credits. She was always my least favorite angel.
I had spent a lot of time practicing for my first upcoming piano recital. When I say practicing, I mean going once a week for piano lessons and practicing there because I never practiced at home. I didn’t like going to piano lessons, so why should I bother practicing?
The piano recital was held at Mrs. Erickson’s home. My parents came to see me play. The piece I was playing was called “Fluffy The Puppy”. When it came time for me to play, I did ok for the first three notes and then I forgot the rest of the song and just kind of improvised. It sounded off key. I looked out at my parents and saw them sinking in their chairs. They avoided eye contact with me. I played through and finished the song in my own way. There was some slight applause.
I wasn’t embarrassed by my performance because I thought the rule about having no sheet music at the recital was stupid and I was going to show Mrs. Erickson that I thought so and show my parents that I didn’t want to have to go to piano lessons anymore.
After the recital was over, my parents pretended they didn’t know me and they walked home without me. I never had to go to piano lessons again.
Today’s song is Fake Empire by The National from their 2007 album Boxer. It’s a pretty good album. I picked this song because it’s one of my current favorites and it has a piano in it. Wow.
The National—Fake Empire
http://www.zshare.net/audio/43661884689b42/
October 19, 2007
Why I hate Halloween
I hate Halloween.
I’ve always hated Halloween. It’s in my least favorite month. Of course now that I live in Los Angeles, I guess I don’t have a least favorite month. October used to be my least favorite month when I lived in Minnesota because it’s the beginning of the end of nice weather. October in Minnesota is usually cold and grey and dark, with six more months of cold, grey and dreary weather to follow.
I hate Halloween for many reasons. One is it was almost always freezing when I was going trick or treating in Minnesota. You had to bundle up, so no one could see your costume anyway. I remember dressing up as the devil, Superman, a left over 70s person (using my dad’s old clothes), a hippie, a ghost, a vampire and some other things I’ve forgotten. I never got to go as my favorite choice Wonder Woman, although I did wear a schmata on my head for a long time as a little boy so that I could pretend I had long flowing hair like Kelly Garret (Jaclyn Smith) from my favorite show “Charlie’s Angels”. I wore a towel on my head with a belt on top to keep the “hair” from falling off my head. I don’t know which disturbed my parents more, me wanting to have long pretty hair or that fact that I also looked like I was trying to dress like an Arab.
I’ve always hated carnivals, amazement parks, the circus, fairs, and those sorts of things. I can remember my grandmother taking me to Valley Fair (an amusement park in Minnesota, not sure if it’s national) when I was maybe 6 or 7 and I didn’t want to ride on the rides and wanted to leave. She yelled at me, telling me that I was not a normal kid and why couldn’t she have a normal grandchild. I was her only grandchild, so she was constantly frustrated.
When I first went to Las Vegas to visit my Grandma, (this was the first time I had ever left Minnesota; I was 13) she took me to the Hoover Dam and to Circus Circus. I hated them both and told her so. We had a big fight that day. She and my mother always loved carnivals and events like that. They also both loved women in prison movies and cafeteria food.
On Halloween day you were supposed to come dressed to school in your costume. I refused to wear my costume because I didn’t like my classmates knowing who I wanted to be. I still don’t like to wear costumes. I always feel stupid in a costume. I was always the only kid who came to school not in a costume.
My mother had a Halloween tradition of scaring me and eating most of my candy. She would wait until I got home from school to scare me. Usually she wasn’t there when I got home from school. She’d hide and when I came home, she’d either jump out at me dressed as witch or I’d find her at the bottom of the stairs covered in fake blood, pretending to be dead. I never found any of that very amusing. I also didn’t like it when we’d play the blind game and I’d be the blind person and she’d walk me into things, but that’s not a Halloween story, that was the rest of the year.
After scaring me, she’d invite her mother over and we’d scare grandma. Mm mother would say she had to go downstairs to get something. She’d make a lot of noise like she fell down the stairs. Grandma would rush downstairs and discover my mother “dead”. Just when she would get close enough to touch my mother, my mother would rise up and laugh. It really made Grandma angry.
After I’d come in from a cold night of trick or treating, usually by myself or with some weird friend I found, my mother would take my bag of candy and tell me she had to "inspect it for razor blades and poison". I’d go to bed and in the morning, the crappy candy and only apples would be left. The good stuff would be already eaten by my mother or stashed away somewhere.
This year I will be on my way to Austin on Halloween day. I arrive that night. It will be the first time I’ve ever been to Austin or Texas. Texas scares me, but I’ve heard such great things about Austin. If I like it, I will move there and I will get on with my life.
I tried to find a Halloween type song, but hell, it’s not even Halloween so today the song is “Tomorrow, Wendy” by Concrete Blonde. This is an amazing live version from their 1994 “Still in Hollywood” CD. I’m still in Hollywood, so I know how that feels. The song was written by Andy Preiboy, the same person who wrote another one of my all time favorite songs “Loving the Highway Man” (posted on this blog in September). I love the vocals and the lyrics of this song.
Concrete Blonde—Tomorrow Wendy (live)
http://www.zshare.net/audio/43273994057dac
“I told the priest
don't count on any second coming
god got his ass kicked
the first time he came down here slumming
he had the balls to come
the gall to die and then forgive us
no, i don't wonder why
i wonder what he thought it would get us.”
I’ve always hated Halloween. It’s in my least favorite month. Of course now that I live in Los Angeles, I guess I don’t have a least favorite month. October used to be my least favorite month when I lived in Minnesota because it’s the beginning of the end of nice weather. October in Minnesota is usually cold and grey and dark, with six more months of cold, grey and dreary weather to follow.
I hate Halloween for many reasons. One is it was almost always freezing when I was going trick or treating in Minnesota. You had to bundle up, so no one could see your costume anyway. I remember dressing up as the devil, Superman, a left over 70s person (using my dad’s old clothes), a hippie, a ghost, a vampire and some other things I’ve forgotten. I never got to go as my favorite choice Wonder Woman, although I did wear a schmata on my head for a long time as a little boy so that I could pretend I had long flowing hair like Kelly Garret (Jaclyn Smith) from my favorite show “Charlie’s Angels”. I wore a towel on my head with a belt on top to keep the “hair” from falling off my head. I don’t know which disturbed my parents more, me wanting to have long pretty hair or that fact that I also looked like I was trying to dress like an Arab.
I’ve always hated carnivals, amazement parks, the circus, fairs, and those sorts of things. I can remember my grandmother taking me to Valley Fair (an amusement park in Minnesota, not sure if it’s national) when I was maybe 6 or 7 and I didn’t want to ride on the rides and wanted to leave. She yelled at me, telling me that I was not a normal kid and why couldn’t she have a normal grandchild. I was her only grandchild, so she was constantly frustrated.
When I first went to Las Vegas to visit my Grandma, (this was the first time I had ever left Minnesota; I was 13) she took me to the Hoover Dam and to Circus Circus. I hated them both and told her so. We had a big fight that day. She and my mother always loved carnivals and events like that. They also both loved women in prison movies and cafeteria food.
On Halloween day you were supposed to come dressed to school in your costume. I refused to wear my costume because I didn’t like my classmates knowing who I wanted to be. I still don’t like to wear costumes. I always feel stupid in a costume. I was always the only kid who came to school not in a costume.
My mother had a Halloween tradition of scaring me and eating most of my candy. She would wait until I got home from school to scare me. Usually she wasn’t there when I got home from school. She’d hide and when I came home, she’d either jump out at me dressed as witch or I’d find her at the bottom of the stairs covered in fake blood, pretending to be dead. I never found any of that very amusing. I also didn’t like it when we’d play the blind game and I’d be the blind person and she’d walk me into things, but that’s not a Halloween story, that was the rest of the year.
After scaring me, she’d invite her mother over and we’d scare grandma. Mm mother would say she had to go downstairs to get something. She’d make a lot of noise like she fell down the stairs. Grandma would rush downstairs and discover my mother “dead”. Just when she would get close enough to touch my mother, my mother would rise up and laugh. It really made Grandma angry.
After I’d come in from a cold night of trick or treating, usually by myself or with some weird friend I found, my mother would take my bag of candy and tell me she had to "inspect it for razor blades and poison". I’d go to bed and in the morning, the crappy candy and only apples would be left. The good stuff would be already eaten by my mother or stashed away somewhere.
This year I will be on my way to Austin on Halloween day. I arrive that night. It will be the first time I’ve ever been to Austin or Texas. Texas scares me, but I’ve heard such great things about Austin. If I like it, I will move there and I will get on with my life.
I tried to find a Halloween type song, but hell, it’s not even Halloween so today the song is “Tomorrow, Wendy” by Concrete Blonde. This is an amazing live version from their 1994 “Still in Hollywood” CD. I’m still in Hollywood, so I know how that feels. The song was written by Andy Preiboy, the same person who wrote another one of my all time favorite songs “Loving the Highway Man” (posted on this blog in September). I love the vocals and the lyrics of this song.
Concrete Blonde—Tomorrow Wendy (live)
http://www.zshare.net/audio/43273994057dac
“I told the priest
don't count on any second coming
god got his ass kicked
the first time he came down here slumming
he had the balls to come
the gall to die and then forgive us
no, i don't wonder why
i wonder what he thought it would get us.”
The Evil Eye
When I did something wrong when I was a child, my mother would give me the evil eye. She would squint her eyes and stare me down. It didn’t scare me (other behaviors of hers did), it just made me know that whatever I did made her mad, or really, just annoyed with me.
Every morning when I would come upstairs from the basement, my mother had a look on her face that said “You’re still here?” I always felt like an inconvenience for her. I know I was planned six years in advance and conceived on a February evening in 1973 in front of the fireplace. My parents never liked children and neither do I.
It seems nowadays all the gays want kids. I told everyone that the reason my last important relationship ended is because he wanted kids and I did not. This is not true. I mean, the kid thing is true, but the relationship ended because he found out the truth about me, meaning that I have opinions and I am not his shadow.
I liked the old days when being gay was dirty and weird and fun. It’s of course gone mainstream now, years ago. Now the gays all want kids and now when I say I don’t want kids, people act like that is terrible. You see, I never wanted a “normal” life. The problem is that I never figured out what life I really wanted.
When I mouthed off to my mother, she put on the in between area on the stairs. I think it’s called a mezzanine. She told me I would have to stay on the stairs until I was ready to apologize for whatever it was I said to her. Since I am never bored, I would remain on the stairs for hours, sometimes a day or two. I would refuse to apologize because whatever I said to her I meant. Eventually, she would beg me to come down off the stairs. I would refuse until she apologized to me for putting me on the stairs. She’s a psychologist, yet she never seemed to have a clue how to deal with me. I think it’s that she has a really short attention span and I can stay stuck on something for weeks at a time, sometimes years. I don’t give up.
I have never apologized for something if I didn’t mean it. This means I’ve rarely apologized in my life. I’ve always thought apologies are only for those who get caught.
I came across a poem “The Judgmental Eye of Larry” I wrote a few years ago. Here it is:
The Judgmental Eye of Larry
“You’re missing, he told me
But, Dad, I’m right here
But truth can’t be seen through the judgmental eye of Larry
As a child, I was well behaved
Did everything the wall told
I believed in god and all that jazz
Now as I am older now
I see your eye, like a third eye for what it is
Cold, hard and judgmental,
Like the eye in the sky
Yes, I never loved you
And I don’t miss you now
Just turn your back on me now.”
Today’s song is The Maker from 1998 by Willie Nelson with Emmylou Harris. It’s a hello to Austin song because I am visiting Austin for the first time coming up in a couple weeks. I hope I like it so I can escape LA. If not, I don’t know where to go.
Willie Nelson & Emmylou Harris—
The Maker
http://www.zshare.net/audio/4311514525b201
“I can't work the fields of Abraham.”
October 18, 2007
How many gay Jewish Amy Grant fans are there?
I’ve been a secret Amy Grant fan since high school. Originally I started listening to Amy Grant as a way to piss off my father. Even though my family is Jewish, I’ve always been drawn to Christian things. Part of this is because the woman who raised me, Kay, (also known as the cleaning lady) is an Assembly of God church member. That’s a rather strict religion. Kay went to school in Minnesota with Jim and Tammy Faye Baker. Kay used to take me to church every Wednesday night.
Another reason I was always drawn to Christian things growing up is because I grew up in Minnesota. There were Jews there somewhere, but I never found any as a kid. I used to want to be Christian and have Christmas and be blonde and all the stuff the goyim have. I still feel that way, except I no longer want to be blonde.
I was drawn to Amy’s album “Lead Me On”. It’s still a great album and I think it’s the best selling Christian album of all time (or something close to that). It’s full of questioning and deep feeling. There’s a song called “Faithless Heart” where Amy thinks about having an affair. “Lead Me On” talks about slavery and the holocaust.
I also love her 1997 “Behind the Eyes” album. I come back to that album a lot. It’s an album about depression and difficult times. Amy is a very honest writer and never shies away from the darker themes.
I’m reading Amy’s new memoir “Mosaic”. It’s a pretty interesting read.
I wonder how many gay Jews are fans of Amy Grant? I’d love to know. I’ve googled “gay Jewish Amy Grant fans” but nothing ever comes up on the subject. What a surprise. I think I might start a gay Jewish Amy Grant fan group on Myspace.
I am posting one of my favorite Amy Grant songs “After The Fire” from her 2003 album “Simple Things”. It’s a song in which I find great comfort, as I do with many of Amy’s songs.
Amy Grant---After the Fire
http://www.zshare.net/audio/43077091cc3b93
“There will be many voices calling.
Mine will say welcome home.”
October 7, 2007
Shining as she reeled him in
I booked my trip to Austin. I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard so many good things about it. I am keeping an open mind. I may move there, I may not. I won’t know until I visit. I arrive on Halloween.
One of my loyal readers who also knows me in the real world pointed out a story I had forgotten. It’s related to yesterday’s story about my stepmother Corinne.
The history is this: My mother met Corinne back in 1970. They were neighbors. Corinne’s kids were my best friends growing up and now they are my stepsisters. My father ended up marrying Corinne and my mother never forgave her, even though she didn’t want him. She didn’t care about my father, but she felt betrayed by Corinne for dating my father and then not telling her that she was dating him.
My mother was dropping off one day at my father’s house which is the house where she used to live. when she got to the driveway, she noticed Corinne’s car parked there. She dropped me off and then proceeded to drive all over my father’s lawn. I’ll never forget the look on Corinne’s face when she heard the screeching of the car and saw my mother driving all over the lawn. My mother is not someone you want to cross and Corinne has always been afraid of my mother.
Corinne’s youngest daughter, Caroline, was born two years after me and five years after Corinne and my father first met, back when my parents were still married to each other. Caroline bears a striking resemblance to me. If I were casting a part for my sister (I have no known siblings), I would definitely cast Caroline because she really does look like me. She also completely shares my father’s politics. They would often talk about issues and agree with each other on everything, meanwhile my stepmother and I would egg them on by talking about how much we like guns and how poor people should be forcibly sterilized. It’s always easy to bait my father because he takes things so seriously.
For a long time I have wondered if my stepsister is actually my half sister. One Sunday after family dinner, I stole a fork that Caroline had used and put it in a plastic baggie so that I could have her DNA tested and compared to my own.
I called a bunch of places that do DNA testing, but every place was either too expensive or told me they couldn’t do a DNA test without the person’s consent. I still have the fork with the DNA on it, so if any of you readers out there know how to do a DNA test, let me know and I will send you the fork and some of my DNA so you can test it to see if Caroline and I are biologically related. I’d really like to know.
Today’s song is the first Joni Mitchell song I have posted on this blog. It’s from 1975 and it’s called “Harry’s House/Centerpiece” from her “The Hissing of Summer Lawns” album. The reason I chose this song to go with this entry is because it’s about what the suburbs does to people and the petty things people do to each other when they are in a relationship. The song is full of incredible imagery, like:
“A helicopter lands on the Pan Am roof
Like a dragonfly on a tomb
And business men in button downs
Press into conference rooms
Battalions of paper minded males
Talking commodities and sales
While at home their paper wives
And paper kids
Paper the walls to keep their gut reactions hid.”
Joni Mitchell- Harry's House/Centerpiece
http://www.zshare.net/audio/40787494ba060c
The song reminds me of the relationship between my father and my stepmother.
“Yellow checkers for the kitchen
Climbing ivy for the bath
She is lost in House and Gardens
He's caught up in Chief of Staff
He drifts off into the memory
Of the way she looked in school
With her body oiled and shining
At the public swimming pool ...”
One of my loyal readers who also knows me in the real world pointed out a story I had forgotten. It’s related to yesterday’s story about my stepmother Corinne.
The history is this: My mother met Corinne back in 1970. They were neighbors. Corinne’s kids were my best friends growing up and now they are my stepsisters. My father ended up marrying Corinne and my mother never forgave her, even though she didn’t want him. She didn’t care about my father, but she felt betrayed by Corinne for dating my father and then not telling her that she was dating him.
My mother was dropping off one day at my father’s house which is the house where she used to live. when she got to the driveway, she noticed Corinne’s car parked there. She dropped me off and then proceeded to drive all over my father’s lawn. I’ll never forget the look on Corinne’s face when she heard the screeching of the car and saw my mother driving all over the lawn. My mother is not someone you want to cross and Corinne has always been afraid of my mother.
Corinne’s youngest daughter, Caroline, was born two years after me and five years after Corinne and my father first met, back when my parents were still married to each other. Caroline bears a striking resemblance to me. If I were casting a part for my sister (I have no known siblings), I would definitely cast Caroline because she really does look like me. She also completely shares my father’s politics. They would often talk about issues and agree with each other on everything, meanwhile my stepmother and I would egg them on by talking about how much we like guns and how poor people should be forcibly sterilized. It’s always easy to bait my father because he takes things so seriously.
For a long time I have wondered if my stepsister is actually my half sister. One Sunday after family dinner, I stole a fork that Caroline had used and put it in a plastic baggie so that I could have her DNA tested and compared to my own.
I called a bunch of places that do DNA testing, but every place was either too expensive or told me they couldn’t do a DNA test without the person’s consent. I still have the fork with the DNA on it, so if any of you readers out there know how to do a DNA test, let me know and I will send you the fork and some of my DNA so you can test it to see if Caroline and I are biologically related. I’d really like to know.
Today’s song is the first Joni Mitchell song I have posted on this blog. It’s from 1975 and it’s called “Harry’s House/Centerpiece” from her “The Hissing of Summer Lawns” album. The reason I chose this song to go with this entry is because it’s about what the suburbs does to people and the petty things people do to each other when they are in a relationship. The song is full of incredible imagery, like:
“A helicopter lands on the Pan Am roof
Like a dragonfly on a tomb
And business men in button downs
Press into conference rooms
Battalions of paper minded males
Talking commodities and sales
While at home their paper wives
And paper kids
Paper the walls to keep their gut reactions hid.”
Joni Mitchell- Harry's House/Centerpiece
http://www.zshare.net/audio/40787494ba060c
The song reminds me of the relationship between my father and my stepmother.
“Yellow checkers for the kitchen
Climbing ivy for the bath
She is lost in House and Gardens
He's caught up in Chief of Staff
He drifts off into the memory
Of the way she looked in school
With her body oiled and shining
At the public swimming pool ...”
October 6, 2007
Cancer of the Face
Today’s song is “Helpless” by k.d. lang. It’s a Neil Young cover from 2004. I first heard it on the show “Brothers & Sisters”, which is a piece of crap show, but for some reason I can’t stop watching the dvds. I’m an only child, so I don’t relate to this show. Big families are really weird to me, especially if they are TV families.
I love watching TV shows on dvd. I’ve always liked tv better than movies. Movies suck.
Today I came across an old email which had a memory in it that I had forgotten. It was early 1996. It was really cold. What I mean is it was Minnesota. My father took me for bagels like he usually did on Saturdays. We spent the time talking about whatever it is I used to talk about then, which are probably the same things I talk about now. My father usually doesn’t have much to say. When I ask him what’s new, he always says nothing.
After bagels, my father drove me back to my apartment. As I was about to get out of the car, he said he had something to tell me. He then told me that my stepmother, Corinne, had cancer. He was very vague and not descriptive, as usual, just telling me she had cancer. No other information was given. He didn’t seem to know much about the cancer. I said goodbye and went on with my day.
Corinne had cervical cancer, but she never died or whatever. That’s not the point. The point is my father always tells me stuff at the last minute and then doesn’t ever want to talk about it again.
When I told my mother about my stepmother’s cervical cancer, her exact words were “She’s a cunt and she got it from fucking my husband. I hope she gets cancer of the face next.” My mother, you see, used to be Corinne’s best friend. She left my dad for a woman, but she never forgave Corinne for ending up with her ex-husband. Even though my mother didn’t want to be with my father anymore, she felt very betrayed by Corinne since she had spent 20 years complaining about my father to her and she ends up with him.
Here is Helpless by k.d. lang: http://www.zshare.net/audio/406255436f6f77
I love watching TV shows on dvd. I’ve always liked tv better than movies. Movies suck.
Today I came across an old email which had a memory in it that I had forgotten. It was early 1996. It was really cold. What I mean is it was Minnesota. My father took me for bagels like he usually did on Saturdays. We spent the time talking about whatever it is I used to talk about then, which are probably the same things I talk about now. My father usually doesn’t have much to say. When I ask him what’s new, he always says nothing.
After bagels, my father drove me back to my apartment. As I was about to get out of the car, he said he had something to tell me. He then told me that my stepmother, Corinne, had cancer. He was very vague and not descriptive, as usual, just telling me she had cancer. No other information was given. He didn’t seem to know much about the cancer. I said goodbye and went on with my day.
Corinne had cervical cancer, but she never died or whatever. That’s not the point. The point is my father always tells me stuff at the last minute and then doesn’t ever want to talk about it again.
When I told my mother about my stepmother’s cervical cancer, her exact words were “She’s a cunt and she got it from fucking my husband. I hope she gets cancer of the face next.” My mother, you see, used to be Corinne’s best friend. She left my dad for a woman, but she never forgave Corinne for ending up with her ex-husband. Even though my mother didn’t want to be with my father anymore, she felt very betrayed by Corinne since she had spent 20 years complaining about my father to her and she ends up with him.
Here is Helpless by k.d. lang: http://www.zshare.net/audio/406255436f6f77
October 2, 2007
Everyone's saying different things to me
Today I was thinking about the teacher of a class I once took called “Social Deviance”. She started the first class by sitting at the back of class and teaching facing the wall away from the students. This was the only creative thing a teacher in the community college I went to ever did. Something happened to her, something involving an accident, but I can’t remember what happened anymore.
My father banned two things in my house when I was child (well, he also banned anything Christmas related, but I’m saving those stories for Xmas week). Nestle products were banned because in the 60s or 70 they napalmed some babies or something. I don’t remember why anymore.
When I escaped from him and got my own place right after high school, I filled my new apartment with all the Nestle products I could find. It was wonderful to try all the forbidden, secret tastes of the world of Nestle. Today, I bought some more Nestle products when I stopped at the store.
The other thing that was banned from my house was the TV show “Little House on the Prairie”. This may seem strange to you, especially since no other TV shows were banned, but the reason Little was banned was because Michael Landon (aka Eugene Horowitz), Melissa Gilbert and those twins that played Carrie were all Jewish in real life. My father couldn’t stand the fact that they were praying to Jesus and all that christian stuff they did on that show.
As a result of this show being banned, I watched it every chance I could. It was a big deal, growing up in Minnesota, because Little House is set in Minnesota. Everyone from Minnesota watched Little House when he/she grew up (well, maybe not all the boys, at least openly).
I made sure every Monday night to be glued to the tv set to watch Little House and continued to watch it in reruns. My father always told me not to sit so close to the TV, so, of course I sat just inches from the tube and watched Little House that way. Laura and Mary always looked very red and green and pixilated, but I didn’t care. I guess that kind of behavior is why some doctor once told me I had Oppositional Defiant Disorder (O.D.D., of course), but I disagreed with that diagnosis. By the way, I own all the Little House DVDs. It’s still a great show.
My father always tells two stories. One is about the time he went to Chicago with his family as a teenager and how he was robbed. To this day, he will not go to Chicago because of that experience.
The other story, which comes up all the time, is a story about when my father was in gym class during swimming lessons in grade school. He always starts off by saying that in gym class the boys always had to swim naked. After he tells that fact, then he talks about a boy who drown during swimming lessons. No one noticed him until the class found him floating. My father still doesn’t know how to swim.
Today’s song is Zero 7 with “In The Waiting Line”. I relate to this song because of the line that says “There doesn't seem to be anybody else who agrees with me.” Yeah, that’s me, all the time.
Zero 7- In the Waiting Line
http://www.zshare.net/audio/3985943fba99c0
My father banned two things in my house when I was child (well, he also banned anything Christmas related, but I’m saving those stories for Xmas week). Nestle products were banned because in the 60s or 70 they napalmed some babies or something. I don’t remember why anymore.
When I escaped from him and got my own place right after high school, I filled my new apartment with all the Nestle products I could find. It was wonderful to try all the forbidden, secret tastes of the world of Nestle. Today, I bought some more Nestle products when I stopped at the store.
The other thing that was banned from my house was the TV show “Little House on the Prairie”. This may seem strange to you, especially since no other TV shows were banned, but the reason Little was banned was because Michael Landon (aka Eugene Horowitz), Melissa Gilbert and those twins that played Carrie were all Jewish in real life. My father couldn’t stand the fact that they were praying to Jesus and all that christian stuff they did on that show.
As a result of this show being banned, I watched it every chance I could. It was a big deal, growing up in Minnesota, because Little House is set in Minnesota. Everyone from Minnesota watched Little House when he/she grew up (well, maybe not all the boys, at least openly).
I made sure every Monday night to be glued to the tv set to watch Little House and continued to watch it in reruns. My father always told me not to sit so close to the TV, so, of course I sat just inches from the tube and watched Little House that way. Laura and Mary always looked very red and green and pixilated, but I didn’t care. I guess that kind of behavior is why some doctor once told me I had Oppositional Defiant Disorder (O.D.D., of course), but I disagreed with that diagnosis. By the way, I own all the Little House DVDs. It’s still a great show.
My father always tells two stories. One is about the time he went to Chicago with his family as a teenager and how he was robbed. To this day, he will not go to Chicago because of that experience.
The other story, which comes up all the time, is a story about when my father was in gym class during swimming lessons in grade school. He always starts off by saying that in gym class the boys always had to swim naked. After he tells that fact, then he talks about a boy who drown during swimming lessons. No one noticed him until the class found him floating. My father still doesn’t know how to swim.
Today’s song is Zero 7 with “In The Waiting Line”. I relate to this song because of the line that says “There doesn't seem to be anybody else who agrees with me.” Yeah, that’s me, all the time.
Zero 7- In the Waiting Line
http://www.zshare.net/audio/3985943fba99c0
September 28, 2007
Stealing a purple robe.
Years ago, my mother and I went to a friend’s church. Yes we’re Jews, but my mother loves church choirs, especially if some black people are going to sing, so we went to this church to see a choir sing. The choir was wearing very vibrant purple robes. My mother loved the robes so she decided she wanted to have one.
After the church service, my mother went upstairs and stole one of the purple robes. She told me we had to leave right now because she stole a robe and she couldn’t wait to get home and try it on.
She also once stole a pair of sunglasses from JC Penny’s and we always stole chicken from Old Country Buffet. She’d bring one of her old purses and we’d line the purse with napkins and steal as much chicken and desserts as we could. We weren’t poor (oh, please!) she just liked to get free things and plus she said I didn’t eat much at the buffet so she was making up the difference by taking the chicken and desserts.
The song for today is Jane Siberry with kd lang singing “Calling All Angels” from her 1993 album “When I Was a Boy”, which is a great album from start to finish. The song has also been sung at the end of an episode of one of my favorite shows “Six Feet Under”. You can view this scene at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUaXa--g900
I love this song and it always helps me in so many ways.
The wonderful Jane Siberry with kd lang—Calling All Angels
http://www.zshare.net/audio/39103127d05da3
After the church service, my mother went upstairs and stole one of the purple robes. She told me we had to leave right now because she stole a robe and she couldn’t wait to get home and try it on.
She also once stole a pair of sunglasses from JC Penny’s and we always stole chicken from Old Country Buffet. She’d bring one of her old purses and we’d line the purse with napkins and steal as much chicken and desserts as we could. We weren’t poor (oh, please!) she just liked to get free things and plus she said I didn’t eat much at the buffet so she was making up the difference by taking the chicken and desserts.
The song for today is Jane Siberry with kd lang singing “Calling All Angels” from her 1993 album “When I Was a Boy”, which is a great album from start to finish. The song has also been sung at the end of an episode of one of my favorite shows “Six Feet Under”. You can view this scene at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUaXa--g900
I love this song and it always helps me in so many ways.
The wonderful Jane Siberry with kd lang—Calling All Angels
http://www.zshare.net/audio/39103127d05da3
In order to be optimistic, you have to be irrational.
Since I escaped Minnesota two years ago and spent some time in Vegas and LA, I’ve been thinking about why people are mean or heartless or careless or all of those things. I’ve been told my views on people are pessimistic, but I just call that realistic. Nothing makes people run away faster than when you tell them you think most people are mean spirited and stupid.
One of my father’s favorite quotes is when Anne Frank said in her diary “Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.” The thing is, Anne Frank wrote this while she still had hope of being rescued. I’d like to hear her say that as she’s being gassed. My father and I talk about this all the time.
I’ve been thinking a lot in the last two years about why people are so mean and more specifically, I’ve been thinking about times when someone was mean for no reason all the while exhibiting weird behavior.
Here are some examples:
1. My friend and I were in line at a pancake restaurant in Vegas (I know, only high class for us) and this old man said to me that I was standing to close to him. I didn’t feel that I was standing too close to him so I didn’t move. He just wouldn’t leave me alone. He kept telling me to move away from him and then I told him what a line was and again told him I was not standing too close to him. I paid my bill and this guy was out in the parking lot waiting for me. I got into the car and drove away and he followed us. Years of watching “Charlie’s Angels” paid off since I was able to quickly lose him using some driving techniques the Angels used in the show.
2. Around the same time in Vegas I was in a line (what is it with the lines?) with my mother. We had won $200 in a video poker tournament (yes, more high class times; my mother doesn’t gamble anymore because a lady died next to her the last time she was playing, but that’s a story for another time). We were standing in line waiting to pick up our prize money. I was eating a piece of cake.
This old guy told me it was rude to eat cake in a line. I explained that the cake was made available for everyone and he could have some too if he wanted. he again told me to stop eating the cake in the line. I refused and for some reason he told me he was a veteran. I told him, “Then I salute you by eating this cake”. He persisted the whole time telling me not to eat the cake. My mother and I got our money and as we left we told him to go to hell and both gave him the finger. I’ve given the finger to many people with my mother. She’s fun that way. She’s not afraid of anyone.
3. A long time ago at a restaurant in Minnesota called Byerly’s, my mother and I were in a hurry to eat, so we sat at the counter. There were two spaces available, but there was a woman sitting in between the two open seats. We asked the woman to move down one, but she said, “No, that’s too hard.”
My mother and I sat on either side of this woman and proceeded to have a long, loud conversation in between her, going back and forth discussing things like surgery and other things that are unpleasant while one is eating. We also passed things to each other back and forth until the lady got mad and left. My mother and I are good at collectively punishing someone.
4. I went to this volunteer training for a homo film festival here in LA. They ran out of chairs so many people had to stand up. Sitting next to me was this obviously Jewish woman (a Jew can spot another Jew) who had put her purse on an empty chair next to her. One by one, people would come up to her and ask her to move her purse so they could sit down. Each time she refused to move her purse and let anyone sit down in the chair.
In a way I was impressed by her ability to not allow anyone to sit on the purse’s chair. I wanted to ask her why she why she felt her purse needed a chair more than a person, but I couldn’t think of a way to phrase it to her. I just wonder about her, what she is thinking, that sort of thing.
5. This one really pissed me off. At this coffeehouse I go to in Silver Lake, this guy, as he was leaving, put his dirty dishes on my table. His table was empty and the table between us was empty, but for some reason he deliberately put his dirty dishes on my table and then walked out the door. What does this mean? Is this some kind of weird mean LA thing? Why not just leave his dirty dishes at his table and leave? Why put them on my table?
6. As my mother and I were leaving a casino in Vegas, we got to the space where the car was parked in a handicapped spot (my mother has diabetes so her handicap permit is real; unlike before she got diabetes when she used her dead mother’s handicap permit), anyway, this guy in a wheelchair was screaming something to us and blocking the way. We couldn’t understand what he was screaming or what he wanted, but we couldn’t leave so we saw a security guard sitting outside in front of the casino. We went up to him and asked for his help. He told us he didn’t work there and refused to help us. My mother yelled at him and told him he shouldn’t be outside wearing the security uniform and giving everyone a false sense of safety.
We went back to the car and pushed the screaming man in the wheelchair out of the way. He was still screaming something as we drove off. My mother did her best not to hit him and I don’t think we did hit him.
I have so many more of these sorts of examples. Have you had similar experiences? If so, leave a comment or email me at theawfulrowing@gmail.com.
Today’s song is Bettye Lavette covering the Fiona Apple song “Sleep to Dream”. I love this song. It’s from her strong 2005 “I’ve got my own hell to raise” CD. This song really fits the theme today.
Bettye Lavette—Sleep to Dream
http://www.zshare.net/audio/391045404b4c9e
One of my father’s favorite quotes is when Anne Frank said in her diary “Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.” The thing is, Anne Frank wrote this while she still had hope of being rescued. I’d like to hear her say that as she’s being gassed. My father and I talk about this all the time.
I’ve been thinking a lot in the last two years about why people are so mean and more specifically, I’ve been thinking about times when someone was mean for no reason all the while exhibiting weird behavior.
Here are some examples:
1. My friend and I were in line at a pancake restaurant in Vegas (I know, only high class for us) and this old man said to me that I was standing to close to him. I didn’t feel that I was standing too close to him so I didn’t move. He just wouldn’t leave me alone. He kept telling me to move away from him and then I told him what a line was and again told him I was not standing too close to him. I paid my bill and this guy was out in the parking lot waiting for me. I got into the car and drove away and he followed us. Years of watching “Charlie’s Angels” paid off since I was able to quickly lose him using some driving techniques the Angels used in the show.
2. Around the same time in Vegas I was in a line (what is it with the lines?) with my mother. We had won $200 in a video poker tournament (yes, more high class times; my mother doesn’t gamble anymore because a lady died next to her the last time she was playing, but that’s a story for another time). We were standing in line waiting to pick up our prize money. I was eating a piece of cake.
This old guy told me it was rude to eat cake in a line. I explained that the cake was made available for everyone and he could have some too if he wanted. he again told me to stop eating the cake in the line. I refused and for some reason he told me he was a veteran. I told him, “Then I salute you by eating this cake”. He persisted the whole time telling me not to eat the cake. My mother and I got our money and as we left we told him to go to hell and both gave him the finger. I’ve given the finger to many people with my mother. She’s fun that way. She’s not afraid of anyone.
3. A long time ago at a restaurant in Minnesota called Byerly’s, my mother and I were in a hurry to eat, so we sat at the counter. There were two spaces available, but there was a woman sitting in between the two open seats. We asked the woman to move down one, but she said, “No, that’s too hard.”
My mother and I sat on either side of this woman and proceeded to have a long, loud conversation in between her, going back and forth discussing things like surgery and other things that are unpleasant while one is eating. We also passed things to each other back and forth until the lady got mad and left. My mother and I are good at collectively punishing someone.
4. I went to this volunteer training for a homo film festival here in LA. They ran out of chairs so many people had to stand up. Sitting next to me was this obviously Jewish woman (a Jew can spot another Jew) who had put her purse on an empty chair next to her. One by one, people would come up to her and ask her to move her purse so they could sit down. Each time she refused to move her purse and let anyone sit down in the chair.
In a way I was impressed by her ability to not allow anyone to sit on the purse’s chair. I wanted to ask her why she why she felt her purse needed a chair more than a person, but I couldn’t think of a way to phrase it to her. I just wonder about her, what she is thinking, that sort of thing.
5. This one really pissed me off. At this coffeehouse I go to in Silver Lake, this guy, as he was leaving, put his dirty dishes on my table. His table was empty and the table between us was empty, but for some reason he deliberately put his dirty dishes on my table and then walked out the door. What does this mean? Is this some kind of weird mean LA thing? Why not just leave his dirty dishes at his table and leave? Why put them on my table?
6. As my mother and I were leaving a casino in Vegas, we got to the space where the car was parked in a handicapped spot (my mother has diabetes so her handicap permit is real; unlike before she got diabetes when she used her dead mother’s handicap permit), anyway, this guy in a wheelchair was screaming something to us and blocking the way. We couldn’t understand what he was screaming or what he wanted, but we couldn’t leave so we saw a security guard sitting outside in front of the casino. We went up to him and asked for his help. He told us he didn’t work there and refused to help us. My mother yelled at him and told him he shouldn’t be outside wearing the security uniform and giving everyone a false sense of safety.
We went back to the car and pushed the screaming man in the wheelchair out of the way. He was still screaming something as we drove off. My mother did her best not to hit him and I don’t think we did hit him.
I have so many more of these sorts of examples. Have you had similar experiences? If so, leave a comment or email me at theawfulrowing@gmail.com.
Today’s song is Bettye Lavette covering the Fiona Apple song “Sleep to Dream”. I love this song. It’s from her strong 2005 “I’ve got my own hell to raise” CD. This song really fits the theme today.
Bettye Lavette—Sleep to Dream
http://www.zshare.net/audio/391045404b4c9e
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