things I must do now because my life depends on it

1. practice piano
2. take my medication
3. rebuild this computer back up to where it was
4. finish these three assignments
5. remember my people, my ancestors, and my homeland.

stick this landing.
perfect ten. or close enough.
hands up in the air and smiling even with metaphorical snapped wrists and a broken ankle. look to the stars…

mistakes were made.

things I must do now because my life depends on it

swim

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maybe it’s time to rise
time to open eyes
time to unshutter windows
a time for seconds, thirds, and infinitely more’th-tries.

i am suspicious of recurrences
of suddenness
(of absences)
of just enoughs
surrounded by too muchness-es
(and dour, coldemptypromises)
so when the tide is finally drenched with smiles
i think perhaps my scars will heal
(heart, hips, hands, fingers, thighs…)
i wish to ride my fear into my sea
and yes, my friend
i’d say this salty honest-ness;
this tricky-fun wordspun homecoming mist
is a happy new taste for me.

swim

enter the loop

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The slippers I bought at the store -
they were soft
and had wings on the heels
They made the way softer;
it seemed they made it look…
like it wasn’t so heavy a door

The man on the mountainside might
not really be holding a knife
he doesn’t care
and it doesn’t matter
…he is really a most worthy guide!

so take the leap before you look
take every page out of the book
take each droplet out of the soup
To sleep soundly, enter the loop

enter the loop

.

1. good grief I’m tired. i am working on the song that will never be finished. i have taken it apart and put it back together over ten times. it has so much freaky mojo in it from being sick and funny experiences that I had to deconstruct it and put a fresh new approach on it. Luckily it’s been an okay day so I can put a bit of a nice finish onto it and get it done I am thinking. I’ve stayed off things for the most part and mostly slept the sick off and put out a few fires today.
2. something that is NOT going to get old from being said is that 2011 was a really heinous year. just really exceptionally flarggy.
3. eventually, most situations settle to the ground like oook in a fishtank or like the dust settling around the foot-ed pjjamas around the red carpet gala opening of the sea otter of a metaphor from the Grocery Store of

never mind. I got stuck.
I think what I’m trying to say is that when things are completely unresolvable in life because something is just a damn shame full of angry Nobody’s Fault that’s just really hard. It takes superhero strength to get through stuff like that and you can only hope for the best and that tantrums can settle. I had mine throughout the year in several areas of my life, heightened by being sick and getting betrayed and fired a few times and having professional disappointments and being embarrassed and dealing with the fact that I whine a lot on my blog and that I’m not as funny as I think I look. But here is a video of a chicken toy. You can clear your head while I go clean up the apple soda I just kicked over.
(got chickens?)

[NOTE: if you watch any of the other vids, the “pigs blood” poem one is Not Suitable For Work!!! because there is a swear in the poem. also all of my twitvids are REALLY dumbexcept my practice performance of Stranded which is actually not too bad.]

(why yes, I have fallen down the stairs this week. I have stopped giving Clumsy Updates)

Rest Assured, this blog is about to get more Entertaining and Less:

EEh. Eeh. Eeh. WWRRRRRAaaawwhhhhh. YAAAAAh. WAAAAH . RRREEeeereee. ewwwww. Flarg.
Ack.

No. Really. I’m totally finishing my projects too. It’s all happening according to Plan.
I am #hashtaggingallupinthat …

.

wuss threshold

1. I practiced a lot today.
2. I’m going to eat tacos.
3. I still have not finished my work, to everlasting chagrin.
4. This shall prolly be another fake list which starts off under list pretense and ends on long number…
:5!. I’m developing a small case of Freakiness. I’m erasing blogs again. I’m pretty sure this is because things suck. That’s the only way I know how to say it. This is the part where I get to smoke a cigarette and drink coffee from my smurf mug and not talk about it. I always feel guilty typing that, but when you are squishy under your microscope slide, obscuring it with a little bit of “FWOOSH” seems reasonable when you’ve proven you can go either way. And I have. Gone that way. It is my destiny #capeovereyes #bwahahahaha

6. HAH!!! You just think I’m SOOOOOOOOOOOO predictable don’t you?!?!?!

YOU DON’T KNOW ME!!!!!

#defiance #buffalostance

7. I keep missing a golden window of oppurtunity to get my gift of music done but I am just so in need of practice time and thinking and processing. I have had overload. I am in one of those times in life where…… hmmm. Do I have a dramatic metaphor for this???

it’s like having a medical procedure. Or going to a high school dance after a breakup. Or not being prepared for a math test. Or being in a fight.
You are scared, and it’s low grade at first. Not terror, because I’ve never feared for life for a mounting period of time so I don’t know. Like I haven’t been in a war, or anything. But this is a stomach feeling. You’re alive and you are afraid of what is going to happen next because it is going to SUCK and you are going to hurt like hell. These are the times when people wish they were dead because everyone has a wuss threshhold.

I’ve almost died before, or thought it was the case and feared my death. That actually upps your wuss threshold. But mine is not high enough for the dread not to get tripped when I KNOW that serious physical or emotional pain is coming my way. I hate to throw up, and I hate to cry and I hate to hurt. So I make myself forget things so that I can get through and pretend stuff’s not happening to me. I imagine a worst case scenario. Invariably I am usually presented with something I didn’t plan for. It’s the one part of the Algebra chapter I forgot to read, it’s the kick to my weak side. My exboyfriend walks into the dance and the girl looks like a teacup piglet or a ribboned box of chocolate chip cookies make by a squad of adorable upper woodwind players in happy-face aprons singing Sweet Christmas carols. And they are singing to orphansMy orphans….with ACCENTS !!!!!! My red stilettos are not in fashion and everyone is in sundresses and precious espadrilles. My hair is neon.

31 Flavors of T A C K Y !!!!!

…huh?

Oh! Yeah! I’m awake!!! Totally! Yeah! I’m SO awake!

Dude! I fell asleep in my own blog over thinking it. This is why I’m not getting things done. I feel kind of sick all the time and I don’t have leftover energy because I’m using the last tiny bits to erase blindingly unkind assaults to my identity that of course actually never happened because of course nobody would ever do that !!!!! ack.

By the way, make a note. For later. This is how it looks when you shoot estrogen into it.

Ten years ago I said I would have a shining moment with someone who made me sit in the shower shaking and crying with the Shakira Mascara of Alanis Level Sorrow because I poured my whole career into him and earlier had had given him a non refundable scented sachet of permanent residual love to keep even if something went horribly wrong because THAT, my froglings, is Desssssssstiny…..
…and this was the last ditch effort.
Last week, my moment came where it flipped around and it all returned to me. I thought I would blog the hell out of that moment.

Someone at the time told me if I was really over the moment I wouldn’t care – I’d be obsessed with something else.

Correcto.

I don’t have time for back story. I am Having a Crisis, y’all.
I would almost prefer you NOT read my blogs of years past though. Because in them you will see how little I have changed in some ways. There is, indeed, nothing new u der the sun, and we are doomed to repeat the same patterns over and over again. Every day of our lives. So the best I can do is to slow down and just quit REACTING. because that’s what keeps fueling the sugarRushy behavior.

And I know how these things flow. It’s called karma. And she does come around to the Keepers of it. In Eerie, Messy fashion.

And she is, indeed, a bitch. But not to worry, So are Clotho, Atropos, and Lachesis. It’s not really nice to call women that, I hear. But I don’t really react to that either, sadly. Because sadly, sadly, sadly, sadly, sadly…I’ve heard worse. :(

8. To wrap, I’ve been trying to get a things a little more under control. I’ve got lots of tagging to do. When I realized this blog had a MUCH smaller audience than I thought and that my stats were karked I worked really hard to start making things better because only you can make things change and whining doesnt help a situation or inspire anybody to respect you or your work.

I’ve been working hard musically too. I think I’ve come a really long way. My band Billy and the Psychotics has won two Song Fights now and I don’t talk about it much because things are going really nicely and its when I DONT hem and haw about something that… well… Honestly …

No. I don’t wanna jinx it. Not this time :)
Some of Billy and the Psychotics at the Song Fight! Jukebox (with other Psychotic locations)
Here are the fights we won…
1. In Time of Crisis
{note: this is a little racy!!}
(I wanted to put the cool songfight player in here, but wordpress is being deflicted!!!)
2. A Conversation
(Song Fight!)

In closing, I’ve been listening to the Dixie Chicks again. And I kinda like it.

wuss threshold

I am Me

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very often, I am shaken and afraid.

today I got scared again. So afraid I thought, maybe I won’t survive! Maybe I’m not memorable… maybe when I’m done, I’ll fade into obscurity … nothing I’ve done will matter …

It seems I am often cut down, and unable to explain. It happened for a while in a relationship I once had. I couldn’t explain its difficulties. But in public, I came off looking small and petty and strange and neurotic – and my friend was the “stable, strong, leonine, under-control person.”

It took years to learn and unlearn the lessons of it all…

I hang on, somehow. In May, I learned how to cling tenaciously and my death grip on my sanity only had to get tighter and tighter. The year did NOT improve. But musically…….

the last half of 2011 has kicked more rocking hard core ass than could be even explained… I know this too is even a phase. But that this is a phase I go through honestly. With full respect for my intelligence. My equality.

I have flown so far away from the don’t-touch-the-mixer-babe world I used to know. And yet I feel a femininity and a safety that allows me to mourn an adult-childhood; to do all that past-current-future grieving.

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These tiny seahorses I saw in the aquarium in the beach town of Galveston. I grew up thinking that I would share destiny with a man who sang ‘Galveston’ to me, and I don’t know why I thought that. We called it BOI, born on the island. It sounds terribly romantic. But the time for the fuzzy things that are just All Snow … that’s done. I continue to breathe and bleed.

I hear it all the time, and I crave more and more surrounding myself with people who say “how ARE you ..?”

and they’ll mean it. and keep meaning it.

I don’t know much but I know that the music I’ve made is me telling My Story. It is real and it is true and I can feel my blood and my heart and my fluid pulsing through it. It’s my house and seat of power.

My pianos were that. Are that. Should be that. Mine. I am me. :)

I carve things into my skin to remember. Tattoos. Birds, mostly. So I won’t forget. If I hurt too much, I start erasing my memories. I can feel myself erasing the last two years of my life, committing fully to the future.

There is no truth for me in the past. Nothing that rang of the real.

I’m generalizing a bit. But I know that my past-truth shared with present liars makes for a hollow stomach feeling. I have left important pieces of myself behind in my life with people who do not hold me dearly enough, I think. Leaving rooms with me still there, turning out the lights. And walking back into them, expecting the most ludicrous scenarios to then transpire with no regard for my reality.

The reality of *that* is narcissism. Plain. Simple.

I can see protection for the convenience of others, sometimes, in the fiction that I hid behind, that I allowed myself to write.

But I am becoming real-er now. Grittier.

Less polite, maybe. Perhaps less easy to tie down. To shut up.

I may make more noise, this time around.

I am Me

a day of Friendly reminders

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1. NOTE TO SELF: you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. I don’t know who the dog is in this scenario, but looking back I’m remembering I’ve been called bitch, and stupid, and worse :(
2. NOTE TO SELF: always remember that you are Unique. Just like everybody else.
3. It’s going to take something a LOT more

EPIC

to convince me to even respond to the existence of a person who regularly makes me feel like a bloodspot on a dirty road.
4. I am furious
5. I’m so furious right now I’m blogging about it. I’m months of pent of rage furious added to years of pent up rage furious.

I don’t want to go into it…

6. I’m so sad. I can’t even process it.
7. I’ll be around for things I need to be around for, but I have obviously not been doing well and it’s time for me to sort through some stuff before I end up someplace crazy.

Now it’s affecting my work.

a day of Friendly reminders