So young...

To be where the sun shines...in the San Onofre surf...pack me in the back and dry that single tear.

New Stuff

I live behind. Way behind everyone else. Being behind means that you find out about really cool stuff long after it's been over being cool for everyone else. We only get two channels on our TV and one of those is University of Illinois PBS. Thank goodness for Austin City Limits, because I'm now the newest fan of Arcade Fire.


This group defines cool. And by the way, apparently "cool" isn't the coolest way to define cool. Sweet is the new cool. I stand by my old timer ways and refer to my favorite things as boss and bitchin'. Call me what you will. Arcade Fire is a bitchin' Canadian Indie rock group of multi-talented musicians led by the uber-brilliant husband / wife duo of Win Butler & Régine Chassagne. Real talent and real women...no bones here ladies.

PBS kept me company for New Year's as well. I spent the evening with the New York Philharmonic live at the Lincoln Center while my old man finished reading Lonely Pigeon or Dove or whatever.
So I guess it's official, I am no longer anywhere close to being "cool" myself. Bring me that rocking chair.

The land of Corn

A little tribute to the cornfield, the birthplace of our own Lil' Hee.

The Top Shelf Toddy

I haven't posted a top shelf lately...and after reading some pointless drivel about Randy Owen of Alabama I started to wonder (and maybe this is because of the slant eye) what my old man might possibly look like as he ages.
The more I stared at photos of Randy, the more I noticed small similarities, i.e. slant eye and the like. But it's still not him. So I figure, a morph combining a little bit of Randy and a little smidgen of tonight's top shelf toddy...Mr. Clint Black. And this may only include a set of bushy eyebrows on the verge of fusion + slant eye.

Long Time Passing

Mary Travers
11/9/36 - 9/16/09

Seems we're on the losing streak lately, with Swayze's death only two days before Travers.
Peter and Paul are left to carry on.

Death in threes. I don't know if it counts or not, but Guiding Light is signing off tomorrow after 72--count them--72 years. I grew up with most of my female family members hooked on The Young & The Restless, so I can't really say I know very much about Guiding Light. According to CNN (and the rest of the world), reality TV has officially taken over.

8 Buttons

When the peyote wears off...the pants come off.

I know where the children play...

...at the Phillips arena in Atlanta. That's where.
Shoot me, spank me, scold me if you must--but I broke it all down for one last chance to score an evening with my one and only, Mr. Hetfield (and his chums).

Bring on the black wristbands, the spitballs, the sweaty guitar picks, and the occasional slap in the face from some gritty split-end ponytails...I'm heading back for more.

Or Worse

Trouble
Oh trouble set me free
I have seen your face
And it's too much too much for me

Trouble
Oh trouble can't you see
You're eating my heart away
And there's nothing much left of me

I've drunk your wine
You have made your world mine
So won't you be fair
So won't you be fair

I don't want no more of you
So won't you be kind to me
Just let me go where
I'll have to go there

Trouble
Oh trouble move away
I have seen your face
and it's too much for me today

Trouble
Oh trouble can't you see
You have made me a wreck
Now won't you leave me in my misery

I've seen your eyes
and I can see death's disguise
Hangin' on me
Hangin' on me

I'm beat, I'm torn
Shattered and tossed and worn
Too shocking to see
Too shocking to see

Trouble
Oh trouble move from me
I have paid my debt
Now won't you leave me in my misery

Trouble
Oh trouble please be kind
I don't want no fight
And I haven't got a lot of time

Trouble -- by Cat Stevens

Last Toke

Why, why do I love this man? In the past, James could have passed for a guy from Jonesville that sold meth out of the back of his repossessed trailer. Still, I love.
His scraggly hair, his skin tight jeans, his deep acne scars, his scarred hands...I love.Unlike many others, I didn't cry when he cut his hair. I still loved him. I love him sober, I loved him drunk. Unconditional metal love. Now, before this post catches any more cheese, I'll stop.

Ode to an Old Man

Watchin' a stretch of road, miles of light explode.
Driftin' off a thing I'd never done before
Watchin' a crowd roll in. out go the lights it begins.
A feelin' in my bones i never felt before...

People always told me. that bars are dark and lonely
And talk is often cheap and filled with air.
Sure sometimes they thrill me
But nothin' could ever chill me.
Like the way they make the time just disappear

Feelin' you are here again. hot on my skin again.
Feelin good a thing I'd never known before
What does it mean to feel?
Millions of dreams come real
A feelin' in my soul I'd never felt before...

And you, you always told me.
No matter how long it holds me if it falls apart
Or makes us millionaires. you'll be right here forever.
We'll go through this thing together
And on heaven's golden shore we'll lay our heads

Golden - My Morning Jacket

Take me to 74

Tonopah. The last stop before Quartzsite. Only known to I-10 regulars, and those midnight cowboys behind the big rig wheels. I never thought I'd miss it, I don't think I will--time heals all. So here's to all the good folks right off exit 94 in Tonopah.

The day that finally came.

My ears are still ringing. It was a surreal experience, reality set in when I started typing this blog...that I, number one fan, witnessed my very first Metallica concert last night. From the moment they took the stage until the pick tossing afterwards, my heart stayed in my throat.
They were amazing and thanked us all for coming out despite the dreary weather in San Diego, (scoring more points with their appreciative nature).
Obviously California is a much cooler state than where I'm from, judging from the amount of cameras and phones in the venue. Being the good little scolded girl from previous concerts, I left my phone and camera in the truck...and then cried in the bathroom by myself when I realized I could have brought them in.
So I don't have any proof other than my actual ticket stub that I actually attended this event. But I did find a great photo from my fan club vault of last night's deeply religious musical performance.I have to thank the old man for bringing me all the way to California to see them. Our seats were amazing and reserved, since I'm too old for the mosh pit. I did spy Lars and Kirk behind the iron curtain several times during the preshow...which gave me secret pleasure knowing I was the only dork using backstage hawk-eye radar.
Two hours later we're back in Palm Springs, safe and sound...and the memory remains.

Los Lonely

Whatever happened to Toonces?

Squeals

Sweaty palms, nausea, a face you'd swear was a slice of pepperoni pizza, and a massive migraine all combined to make one hell of an anxiety attack today. So what's the cause of my plight? Is it world peace, nuclear war, the impending election? Today I fought millions of AmEx members in the battle for premier seats to see Metallica. It was a long, bitter and ferocious war. Five bitten fingernails and bloody cuticles later, I scored two outrageously awesome / sick / sweet / phat (fill in your contemporary adjective) seats. I'm still recovering from all of the ticketmaster mumbo jumbo horse puckey but the good news is, we're in. Wish me luck on the Metclub's meet & greet lottery. I'm going to need it, until then I've got Het in hand.

Marriage of Metal

I am in my bedroom at the brown house. I'm in ninth grade. Candles are burning in my closet with the beaded door and black light. My stereo's speakers try desperately to withstand the volume of the music. I'm entranced by the lonesome howl of the electric guitar...my heart beats faster as the drums begin...I lose myself in the rhythm and bass of the undertones. I am experienced. I am comforted and soothed by the raw chords and riffs. I see the music. The music sees me. It remains my constant friend throughout my entire explusion. They remain my friend today. They are Metallica.

This isn't the rant of one lunatic whose fascination with metal has driven her to an obsessive belief that music will heal any wound. But it helped to heal mine. I had people, friends, family and teachers who stood by me...but alone I had the music.

Now, almost thirteen years later, I see myself needing an outlet once more. My writing, my art, and in the background there is music. That music is still Metallica.

it IS hot in here!

It's here, I mean they're here, I mean they're coming. Eventually. After all this time of wishing I lived in Belgium and Berlin, my diligent spell casting finally paid off. Just in time for the anniversary too! Blessed Be!!

Fly By Me

I arrived on the prairie in time to make a short trip to the ATL for my best friend's bachelorette soiree. It's a good thing I made the extra effort to conceal my jet lag and tag along for the weekend, because I would've missed one of the best 80's cover bands I've heard yet. Fly-By-Radio hit the stage around 11pm at the Peachtree Tavern Saturday night. Armed with a kick-ass lead singer who rocked the stage with a punk chick's presence, the band covered it all--from Metallica to Rage and then back home with the Cars. I'm sure it's easy to tell how pleased I am. When the music's right, the night is right...and the overall age group of the bar fit a soon to be 30 year old like a glove.
I admit, I have a little crush on the guy with the guitar, but I always will...however, my heart forever belongs to James Hetfield (I'm sure he won't mind the photo op just this once).
Beth's entourage made a big hit while sharing the stage with the band, I'm almost certain they posted the most unflattering pictures they could find--but odds are, the eyes are going to be closed with booze in hand.
I've contemplated showing this photo, but I've decided that it's just too cool not to post...so here's to Fly-By-Radio and a great show--making a wonderful weekend even better.
And cheers to Beth for being such a great sport!!!

It was a good day.

The Valentine parade is over. The boss (no reference to Bruce Springsteen) made a long day at the boiler even longer by stopping off to stand in line for flowers after work. I was a little surprised, we always agreed this holiday was a bit overrated. I have to admit, there was a small twinkle in my eye at the sight of flowers. Besides picking up a pair of homemade Navajo earrings from a fellow Navajo co-worker, the boss really blew all the Valentine's gifts away when he bought all three of us tickets to Def Leppard in April. That did it for me. I had to share the good news. Now, I'm sure most of the audience is roaring with laughter. It's not so dorky to want to see Def Leppard...and REO Speedwagon...and Styx...is it?
I think he did good, no great...cheers to the boss for making this a great Valentine's!

Sanitarium

Sorry for the pause, I waited until Wednesday and the waning moon (wait, is it waning?) and my "power" day according to my latest read The Solitary Witch, to make my next post. It's going to be more of a vent--which I need to do more often, instead of trying to keep it in, some of this is too funny not to share. And no, you may not see pictures.

Tonight, I enjoyed the solitude and relaxing sounds of Metallica (now listen, if you're tired of hearing about it just click on Rob or Rachel's page and don't hassle me) I dressed in a few outfits that I'm now able to fit after several weeks of fasting, well just cutting back basically and I'm quite proud of myself. Then I mixed a good martini, burnt some sage for some good friends who needed it and faded away with James...I'm sure the bossman appreciates this while he sweats it away in Chicago.

The puppies are sleeping now and are cuddled up on the couch...and I survey the damage. The damage...the destruction...and the ultimate horror that we have dealt and endured since our arrival here in the lovely land of Lincoln. The good Lord dealt us a bad hand this month, and thank Him that it's over tomorrow. Our "camper" --- as I loosely refer to it now -- still leaks around the vent in the bedroom, so as the snow decides to melt on those "warm" days (you know, 25 degrees) it drips down onto my Pottery Barn duvet...and you can imagine my dismay. Next, we find that our pipes continually freeze as the Midwestern winds blow constantly across the campground...and there is no other option but to "underpin" the, ahem, camper. So at 10 pm, we do it---and the bossman must be up at 4 am to be in Chicago at 7 am. So with the help of some future angels in a higher place (a.ka. neighbors in the next campsite) we underpin the piece of shit with foam core insulation...pink, foam core. That's all Home Depot had---why am I explaining this? Oh yes, because BARB the manager in charge of the campground insists that your underpinning MATCH your camper by GOD! The bossman had enough, and put it off for another day and another argument and since then nothing else has been said. But I won't jinx it.
Still, when the wind blows and the temperature drops below 4, the pipes like to freeze, so we break out the hairdryer and stick it in the little cubby hole behind the toilet where all the pipes are and turn it on high---and that seems to do the trick. But hurry and take a shower before it freezes again.
I have made this a quest...a mission...to BEAT this place, this camper and this entire state...to show the motherf****** that we can do it....we can make it through (with stuffy noses, bronchitis and all).
All is not well friends, our latest woe is our furnace which has produced a mysterious burning smell whenever it kicks on...but in the last few days, you'll be happy to note that the smell has disappeared as strangely as it appeared (which caused me to think that whatever was "burning" evidently "burnt" off--supposedly some unneeded plastic?) Who knows--but alas, there were no flames and we are still alive! YEAH!
BRING IT ON!
It is on...officially.
Us Vs. Illinois. Forget DA bears.