The Garbage And The Flowers

Arresting interludes aside, it's not enough.  Boredom reached, specimen pinpointed and properly assigned.  Done.  My crush continually enthralls and I'm such a sucker for a person of mystery.  Surprising me at every turn, this fallible organ beats harder and harder. 

The Garbage And The Flowers - Love Comes Slowly Now

Drifter

I still have my crush, without a doubt, but there's a new one loitering.  A confirmed drifter and so young.  SO YOUNG, he continually makes comments about The Older Woman.  I guess that's supposed to be me.  Apparently, us Older Women know what we want sexually and aren't afraid to say what we like or go for it.  Which is true, I am not afraid to say I like this or hate that shit. He's a bit of a wannabe moocher and his humor is beyond roll eyes immature plus he also has that hopeful thing the young ones have, their odd propensity to mention marriage.  "If we get married..." That's the thing about the young ones, their energy and foolishness is adorable but the euphoria gets old fast.  For example:

Him:  [Lame joke]  Girls like assholes

Me:  That's true, girls do like assholes.  Woman don't and I'm a woman.

Him:  silence, kiss on my nose

or

Him:  You're so cute.  If we get married...

Me:  [weird face]  Seriously?

Him:  Nah... but you're so cute, I hope so

Me:  sound reaction, wrinkled face and sweetly disguised shitty sarcastic comeback

Borderline boring but the kisses are delicious so I'll keep him until my boredom hits a wall or until my crush comes and rescues me from mediocrity.  Kidding, I don't need a fucking Knight In Shining Armor.  But let's be honest shall we?  Ladies have needs too and I'm not about to apologize or cry Slut Shame anytime soon.

Death From Above 1979 - Sexy Results

The Dead Weather - Old Mary

Metallic blade immersion into a space so soft and yielding,  I feel cold to the core. I'm not stupid, I know I'm not.

This lady of the night and this nostalgic feeling.

What A Night

Elvis Presley - Such A Night

Wild naughty nights.

Sioux v. Robert

Tonight on one of those nefarious social networking sites, someone posted the provocative, "Siouxsie and the Banshees vs. The Cure... GO!"  You can surely imagine this has spawned and will likely continue to spawn multiple responses.  This poster, hung by an ex of mine, graced the walls of our home for a long time.  We subsequently listened to one infinitely more than the other and without a doubt, even now, I listen to and prefer that one.  Still the question of whether one outweighs the other niggles at my brain.  What do you think?  Of the two, do you have a favorite?

*Since I'm busy burning, tracklisting and "assuring quality" of the 3 versions of my winter mix Dames & Dudes, no music posts tonight.   Yes, I make multiple versions, personal is special.  I will make one for you if you like. xo

Dames & Dudes

 

To a true blue lover of humanity - Martin Luther King, Jr. 

Queen - Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

In other news, I finished my winter mix and the theme is so adorable I have to share.  Dames & Dudes and yes this Queen gem is on it.  Each track is about... yep you guessed it!  You're so clever.  xo

[P.S. Have you seen the video for this song?  I hadn't until now and Freddie's lips are really freaking me out.]

Odds And Ends

How can I rely on my heart if I break it with my own two hands? 

Sweet Jaynes and Blue Eyes

 

Ladies, MTFs, Breast Enthusiasts/Obsessed/Curious/Blessed/Cursed there is a fantastically snarky blog called East Side Bride: aka An Evil Club Of Mean Hipster Brides that I absolutely beyond adore.  That adoration increased by leaps and bounds when they dedicated an entire week [plus] to just big boobs [#BOOBSWEEK].  The how-tos of fitting and wearing bras, dresses and of course wedding gowns, since that's the theme of their game.   [Any well-endowed lady will most definitely appreciate this series, I PROMISE]. 

I definitely have no plans for marriage anytime soon, but these witty ladies are always hilarious and plus I just love boobs.  I mean I truly, honestly, creepily, obsessively worship their beauty  [man/woman doesn't matter] because breasts are fucking awesome.

Cowboy Junkies - Sweet Jane

I typically refer to my epic area as "The Girls" but busty Jayne Mansfield is so beautiful, maybe a name change is in order.  Maybe My Sweet Jaynes?  Here's a funny side story for you: A boy I knew in high school told me about a dream he had where my boobs were blue and that the dream was set to the tune of Peter Gabriel's In Your Eyes.  He called me Blue Eyes for the remainder of school.  [He never actually saw them.]  

Awesome photo of Jayne Mansfied via ESB

Shake It Off, Get A Grip

 

Things were getting entirely too serious for a moment, we needed to laugh.  

Shake it off and get a grip.  Gain a little perspective and watch some junk movies with vampires, werewolves and shit.  Dear Coke Talk is solid gold. Nothing but love for an opinionated woman with an attitude.   

Enjoy.

Every Fool Gets A Lucky Chance... Or Two

Murder.  Such a heavy and powerful word, but one used with such glib brevity, levity and regularity we [i.e. me] may have forgotten its actual meaning.  People die every day and their culprits are brought to justice [as if there is such an unbiased entity] and without batting an eyelash we think, "Yes, this proper.  This is true".  But now it's personal.  My family, our shame.

How does one wrap your mind around such a thing?  How do you reconcile the person you knew as a child with the alleged deed of today?  Babies killing babies, what a fucking tragedy.  It is shock, ANGER, and an overwhelming tide of pain that consumes me while my eyes and heart weep uselessly at the lives lost and forever altered.  One life lost to death, one to a choice and the living innocents left to bear witness and forever carry this weight.  Are we tragically fated to make contra naturam choices?  Is it in fact our own hand that will always tie the noose or pull the trigger?

Murder By Death - A Second Opinion

I watched you grow

I saw you fall again and again

You'd cut your knee,

you'd start to bleed

but wouldn't let the pain in

You let the dogs bite at your ankles, 

let the sunshine burn your eyes;

But will you just walk away this time?

PS.  To anyone facing a similar situation, a text message is not the appropriate venue to learn of conviction and sentencing of a loved one.  No it is not. Respect your family, respect the dead and pick up the fucking phone.

Photo via lauraunbound

It Goes Something Like This

The heart thumps, cheeks flush and these diamond eyes see stars.



My crush knows what gets to me.  

Live and Let Blog

 

Done and done. 

xo

4-3-2-1

The universe has a seriously ironic sense of humor.  Here I've been worried about so many existential things, but tomorrow I find out if I actually have a job.  It's true,  I will or won't have a job come tomorrow.  Apparently, the universe is asking me to either laugh or what...

4-3-2-1....

Peter Schilling - Major Tom (Coming Home)

There's Nothing Wrong With You

So many people I know seem disgruntled with the start of this new year.  Maybe it's because with the start of anything new and fresh there is an expectation that things will change and magically become better than they were just a few days ago?  Death will always be.  Humans hurting other humans and other animals will also be.  People will fall in love and fall apart.  Abstracts, existentials and universal truths do not recognize the minuscule shifts of human calendars.

That heady thought thankfully aside I, once again, am in glorious opposition to the norm.  Ridiculously happy with my fantastic new book detonating atomic bombs in my brain with its genius, laughing at adorables everywhere and welcoming an implacable energy I've not felt in what seems ages.

There is always the other side, the underbelly beckoning with tantalizing danger but for right now, for a few precious moments, the light shines, my heart sings and I just want to spread joy joy joy everywhere like the most delicious sort of metaphysical lubricant.

Talking Heads - Perfect World

Taste this palate pleasing condiment I call Dance Dinner.  Pick a song, better yet pick TONS, open a bottle of your choice and shimmy shimmy shake cook your way through the kitchen.  Satisfy your holy trinity [mind, body, soul]. 

Old Crow

I've got a mad crush.  It's a slippery slope since I usually make some sort of fool out of myself by saying something odd or awkward.

Me:  Did you get any cool gifts?

Him:  OLD CROW

Me:  Cool!  Like a taxidermy bird?

Him:  Whisky

Me:  Oh

Muddy Waters - I Got My Mojo Working

Personally as much as I like whisky, I'd rather have the dead bird.

Iszy Bitzy Witzy

Scrappy knees, bleary eyes, foggy brain and aching loins. Dust yourself off and brush the cobwebs from your hair.  So I'm not quite as shiny as a new penny, it's a start.

Echo and The Bunnymen - Do It Clean

Photo via CBG

As Fast As I Pick It Up

Tonight chats, so many beautiful thoughts.  About music and its ephemeral relativity, existence, belief, religion, our meaning to those things, our niche in the world, yoga and its most significant influence on journeys physical and otherwise.  So epic and grand, my attempts at summary now would be laughable.  Dear void, you calm me.  But there is something else...

The holidays are so very hard for me and I already feel the claws of grief and loneliness attempting the clutch expedition.  In the last few days, I find myself shrugging my right shoulder with a form of existential Tourettes.  As if this will be enough to keep that demon from clawing its way into my ear.

Like an addict, the meetings keep me sane but it's the quiet paradox that scares me.   An addict can't say no when it's right there.  Did I ever tell you my middle name is Elise?   After Mom died I listened to this religiously.  And then later, even more. This video kills me in the most profound way. 



Photo via eliftanman 

The Fault Lines Run Deep

Tackle one addiction at a time kids.  At least that's what the powers that be always say.  Typically I subscribe more to the All Or Nothing school of thought.  Hence why breaking habits and more so, addictions, perpetually alludes me.  That and I'm also one stubborn rebellious bitch who revels in hedonism.  On an otherwise dull uneventful evening, it's also fun to play the What Can You Substitute For What game.  You know!  Also known as The Barter Game, i.e. I'll trade it for that, if you give me this instead of whats-it.

I don't know much about Moving Units but with lyrics like these, I'm not complaining.

You control me
I'm your machine
You expose me
It's so obscene
But when you touch me with your alien embrace
You know it makes me deny the human race

You control me
I'm your machine
You dispose me
It's so obscene
But when you touch me with your alien embrace
You know it makes me deny the human race

I am your slave... until you throw me away

P.S.  Try this recipe - it's ridiculously addictive especially with oodles of vino.

Christmas Sneer

After a few hours of Christmas carding, my Santa elf kicked in and I had the bright idea to pull out the Do Not Open Christmas box of decorations I've kept hidden from myself.  Well the lights are dead but the wine is flowing.  This song is a definite on my Winter Mix.

Behavior with Andrea Revel - Clap!  Shake!  Jump!

Day of Worship

Are you still out there?  Hopefully I didn't freak you out with my angry swear word inspired rant the other day.  Yeaaah, about that... what could I say that Mr. T can say better?

Surprise surprise I don't attend church on Sundays, instead I like to worship brunch foods in my pajamas so much more.  Incidentally, if you're into this sort of thing, I'm dying to try this recipe for vegan, soy and gluten-free bacon.  Also, jonesing for one of these gorgeous creatures [as a pet, not to eat!]  Such an Eve.

Last night was my law firm's Christmas party.  Have you ever noticed that office parties are pretty much guaranteed to be awkward affairs?  Frenemy coworkers in fancy dress surrounded by free booze is just asking for trouble.   My boss made a weird comment about how "this sort of party is just about the most fun you can have once you get married.  That's my wife right there."  Did I mention they booked Hank Williams, Jr in his "only private event concert of the year"?  I suppose he is some sort of iconic legend to some but I'm sure it will come as no surprise I spent most of my time worshiping my champagne flute, the chocolate-covered strawberries and giggling with my best friend.

The Cuss Post

Fuck diplomacy, fuck logic... it seems most of them don't fucking get it anyway.  Throw your hands up in the air.  ICH GIBT AUF.  What the fuck does it even goddamn matter how diplomatically anyone spells it out??   They're too stupidly small-minded and shrewd-hearted it will never fucking matter anyway.  Such selfish simple-minded parameciums.  Gnash your teeth, punch the table and beg for objectivity.  Bite your tongue even and shout your favorite word.  FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.  When smacking someone is the only remedy...

The Dead Weather - I'm Mad

Duh I'm mad - if I like you just stay out of my way, ok?

Reason #11

Turns out there are some reasons to like those nefarious social networking sites.  Not very many granted, but today became one of those rare I Like This Blasted Site days.  Today The Chapman Family [remember when I posted about them?] posted a video covering Morrissey's [remember when I posted about HIM?] Everyday Is Like Sunday.

Moody, slow and pretty it reminds me of Leonard Cohen, Nick Cave and all manner of soft dark things.  With that description, what's not to like??  If you don't, I'm not sure we can be friends.  Kingsley Chapman commented on my post and created instant dialogue; actually he trolled my friend and it's pretty hilarious.

Me: It's slower than the original and very much unlike their other tunes but still so moody and pretty. [X not a peep :)]  

Kingsley:  Why would your friend peep?! Glad you like it though over there in the Land of the Free.

Me:  She hates Moz and The Smiths AND she's over on your side of that big pond. I need you to track her down and school her. Looking forward to hearing the new ep.

Kingsley:  Bet she's not a vegetarian either!  

This would never have happened in my two target bygone eras.  This day,  not too shabby my friends, not too shabby.  For more Morrissey love and tunage, mosey on over to Lazer Guided Melody.  He does my Gay Daddy justice in a way I never could.

The Lull

Cat's Eyes - Bandit

Mondays

The Spell!

Spit.  Yes.   Taste it, writhe.  I'm breaking.

Indecision Tributary

Today my boss spelled my name right for the first time, ever.  I bought a new candle and incense to make my home smell woodsy and warm because your home says a lot about you, apparently.  If we're telling the truth, I bought these smelloids to cover up the cigarette smoke that inevitably fogs my abode while I write these posts.  I've gone through four can openers and three wine openers this year.   Martha Stewart would hate me.

Do you believe in signs?  I can never decide definitively if it's the brain's way of comforting the psyche or the universe screaming, "Look you idiot!  I'm trying to tell you something but you're too blind to see it so here, let me make it really Sesame Street easy."  Bam!  Last night, my squirrely grandmother [who has Alzheimer's] and I had a surprisingly very rare cogent exchange.  Sometimes, our conversations repeat on a loop every two minutes but last night I had a glimpse of the woman who taught me so much.  Forty glorious minutes of my most favorite person in the entire world.  We always used to wax about the world, existence, relationships.  Unknowingly, she gave me the wisdom and words I've been needing to finally make a decision, if I were smart enough I would heed them.

If I believe in signs, this is a big one, along with the fortune cookie I opened but ironically cannot eat, "Follow your heart and you will be happy".  Snorts.  But what if your heart is a tributary?  How do you decide which channel to follow?   There are other signs as well.  Glaring-get-off-your-ass-we're-calling-you signs but when you're standing on the edge calling across the ocean to the other side and the other side ignores you, what do you do??   City shopping is hard, even harder than actual consumer shopping for this indecisive alumni, that is.  I've had my eye on a specific locale for a long, long while but recently I wonder if that would just be a recipe of heartache.  How to please a twin heart?  How to choose between a fantasy and pragmatics, the head and the heart?

Not to turn hokey-dokey over here, just a thought condiment in a random sandwich.  

The Faux Noise - We All Know That Someday We Will Die

The Faux Noise - Save Me

A big big thanks to The Faux Noise for making such catastrophically beautiful music.  Run, don't walk!  Also, please visit LGM, a brutally amazing source of music, and this one's source for TFN and so so so much more.

Lítill Dauði

Chad VanGaalen - Willow Tree

Take my body
Put it in a boat
Light it on fire
Send it out to sea

Long held Viking burial fantasy.  My body atop a funeral pire in a boat, not some behemoth ship, just a simple boat with a small white sail.  Set adrift in a Scandinavian fjord, surrounded by high cliffs with archers poised, bowstrings taut, the arrows aflame.  They fly swift and true setting my body ablaze and we, my body and I, float out to sea.  Maybe in a past life.

[Reminder:  must learn Icelandic]

Cinq-O

Parts of this song/video remind me of the opening credits of Hawaii Five-O [the original of course].  It also inspired me to play a little word game.  How many words beginning with F can I churn out before the end of the song? 

Twenty Minutes

Lily pad hop from this to that to this.  Subtract words and feel it.  This is existence, this is happening. 

Henryck Gorecki -Symphony 3:1. Lento - Sostenuto Tranquillo Ma Cantabile

Henryk Gorecki - Symphony 3:1. Lento - Tranquillissimo

Tonight I described my first listening experience of Henryk Gorecki's Symphony of Sorrowful Songs as a journey: curiosity, joy, overwhelming grief, wrap oneself into painful inwardness, an indescribable bittersweetness, confusion, desire, quietude beyond death.  Within twenty minutes.  My friend said, "Within twenty minutes???"  Yes.  Any musician that can do that sans words...  This isn't modern pop lore.  This is.. this is... Stop.  Turn off everything.  Listen.  Hear.

How I can I appreciate anything else?  I'm consumed and ashamed at the thought of listening to anything less elegant than classical right now.  God forbid I hunger for The Stones, right??  Because The Stones, The Doors, Blondie and The Cure are starting to call my name.  Five days of classical... beautiful, poetic, dreamy... so pretty.  But c'mon, ready for something else, aren't you?

[Can it be true?  Have I actually reached my fill of pretty emotional music?!?  Claps hands!!  I'm hungering for something more.  Thank God!  I was beginning to annoy myself, I can only imagine your roll eyes, eh?]

A Siren Call

Tonight a coworker interrupted my librarian state letting me know she was bored and was curious about what I've been up to during our mini holiday vacation.  Who am I to blame her?  Four days from an addiction is difficult, in this case it is her addiction, the law, the rat race, the Babylon Tower.  I answered honestly, "Librarian loopy - reading and listening to classical music."  Which is what I've been happily doing for the last two days.

She took one look at me, when we met at the bar and said, "Oh wow!  You did your makeup.  You never wear makeup at work."  Slight scrowl.  I do wear makeup, I just don't wear myself.  But her comment caused me to reconsider my appearance.  Today, my nails are painted dark cloudy grey, my eyes are eyelined in maroon and I even sported blood-stained lips.  Clothed in my favorite black/grey - I can see why she was taken by surprise.  At work, I am a wall flower, a non-entity.  She asked me why I don't do this during the week.  My answer is simple. Shrugs, "What's the point?"  I am not stupid, I understand the point.  Dress for success and all that bullshit.  But, this place is not my success.  She asked me why also I wasn't reaching out to [in her mind] the many attractive persons in the vicinity, especially after they approached me for either cigarettes or lighters for such.  Even the cute earnest young'un  Taylor was it??  How can I explain to her?  I can't.  I know what I want and it's not CandyLandimensional shadows.

Recently, I've been digging... digging into the brains of friends about futures.  What do they seek?  How do they envision themselves?  There is a fine line we walk as we age.  How do we remain true to our pasts and still further the goals that our [hopefully] more mature selves desire?

 Max Richter - Autumn Music I

There are people in my life who will rejoice when I say, I'm done.  I'm done with so many things.  Done worrying about how it will all work out.   Done trying to define myself in a way that would appease the tongues of so many.  Done denying the siren's call.  It never made a difference, they always saw through my paltry attempts at assimilation.  More and more, I feel my place.  I inch closer to self, that self that has hungered longingly for me to return.  Poor odd little nerd that never left, only tried to wear the others' clothes in the hopes of being accepted.  Even if I'm afraid to admit it, I am no longer afraid to live it.

Unmarred by distance, relationships, fear or alcohol.  None of these things matter anymore.  Whispered and shy, this is the subtle awkward pulsating strangeness of seeing a lover you once knew... Maybe even also like the tenuous tenacity of a seed to stem, pushing its way through harsh soil, through the incomparable depths of grief, the raucous fickle winds of rebellion, the deceptively still pain of stone and finally the relief of fire, I have traveled far to find her.  It is good to see her again.