Almost heaven, Arizona
Grand Canyon, Colorado River
Life is old there, older than the trees
Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze
Desert roads, take me home
To the place, I be-long
Arizona, canyon momma
Take me home, desert roads
All my memories, gather round her
Trekking lady, stranger to blue water
Dark and dusty, painted on the sky
Misty taste of tequila, teardrop in my eye
Desert roads, take me home
To the place, I be-long
Arizona, canyon momma
Take me home, desert roads
I hear her voice, in the mornin hours she calls to me
NPR reminds me of my home far a-way
And drivin down the road I get a feeling
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday
Desert roads, take me home
To the place, I be-long
Arizona, canyon momma
Take me home, desert roads
(adopted from John Denver's Country Road by lil ol me)
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
When The Pin Hits The Shell (er, Primer)
Some objects are more sacred than others.
My Daddy bought me my first gun in 2004, a Sig Sauer P229 40 cal with 3 high cap mags, light rail and trijicon night sights. This came from the man who taught me how to whittle, carry a hatchet, bank a fire and have all sorts of adventures in the big woods, but would not allow me to carry a full sized pocket knife when in civilization.
I was his first born, the only girl child in my family, and the only female among all of my 1st cousins till I was in my late teens. I argued with him, and begged and pleaded for a 9mm Glock in high school. He saw no reason for his vegetarian pacifist artist of a daughter to be interested in such things. so the subject was dropped. I went off to Art school, at Kent State and got lost until I woke up years later in the Canyon one day, knowing not who I was, but what I was made of.
Whilst mi Madre was convinced that I only had to wear a bullet proof vest at my new job for insurance reasons (note: the federal government does not take out insurance policies on its business practices) because no one would EVER want to hurt a Park Ranger, mi Padre acknowledged and supported that which was pulling me forward. We were on the same team, just like when I was a small child in Harfleur, always claiming, through bready smiles, that the end of the baguette got caught yet again in the elevator on the way back from the market. (Firearms and Baked goods are of equal importance.)
Some time later I fell in love with a boy. We had the exact same hand guns with the same features, and took this (as well as some other secrets) as a sign of our eternal compatibility. It was not.
My gun totting, tree hugging, granola crunching body broke my wrist whilst sliding across the ice on the way back from the recycle bin. I fractured a tiny moon shaped bone, called the Lunate, and then fractured it over and over again until the marrow seeped out, whilst trying to improve my suddenly declining firearms skills. While my wrist is healed, my grip changed, as did my once passionate love affair. I can shoot a Sig 45 with great accuracy, but the 40 cal just does not sit in my palm as it once did, nor does my love sit inside my soul.
My love told me at one time in the past, that he would buy my Sig from me if I wanted to sell it, so that our matching pistols would always be together, and I could more easily afford a 45. He mentioned this again the other day in an email regarding the final serration of all our belongings. He has a new love, a young love, in his home and, hopefully, in his heart. While I am perfectly blissed out in my life, I would feel more comfortable were he to give his object of affection my entire collection of lingerie then ever give her the opportunity to pull back my 10lb/4.5lb double action/single action trigger.
--------------------------------------------------------
Lyrics of the Day by Drive-By Truckers
PIN HITS THE SHELL
You can lie to your Mama,
you can lie to your race
but you can't lie to nobody
with that cold steel in your face.
And the same God that you're so afraid
is gonna send you to hell
is the same one you're gonna answer to
when the pin hits the shell.
Your sister's been blaming everybody.
I don't blame her, man,
I guess I'd blame them too
if you was my brother, man,
I'd probably stand by you.
But you ain't, man, so I got to go my way.
And I ain't gonna crawl upon no high horse
Cause I got thrown off of one
when I was young and I ain't no cowboy
so I ain't going where I don't belong.
It wouldn't do you no good to let you know
that it damned near killed me too
so I ain't gonna mourn for you, man,
now that you're gone.
Me and you, we liked our pills and our whiskey.
But you don't want your head full of either one
when the house gets quiet and dark.
Having fun used to be so damned easy,
racing trains from 2nd Street to Avalon.
Take a trip down memory lane,
You don't see no friendly faces
all the houses have been painted
and nobody knows your name.
It's enough to make a man not want
to be nobody's Daddy,
when all he thinks he's got left to hand down is guilt and shame.
And I ain't gonna crawl upon no high horse........
Cause I got thrown off of one
when I was young and I ain't no cowboy
so I ain't going where I don't belong. I
t wouldn't do you no good to let you know
that it damned near killed me too
so I ain't gonna mourn for you, man,
now that you're gone.
You can lie to your Mama,
you can lie to your race
but you can't lie to nobody
with that cold steel in your face.
And the same God that you're so afraid
is gonna send you to hell
is the same one you're gonna answer to
when the pin hits the shell.
06-11-2008
My Daddy bought me my first gun in 2004, a Sig Sauer P229 40 cal with 3 high cap mags, light rail and trijicon night sights. This came from the man who taught me how to whittle, carry a hatchet, bank a fire and have all sorts of adventures in the big woods, but would not allow me to carry a full sized pocket knife when in civilization.
I was his first born, the only girl child in my family, and the only female among all of my 1st cousins till I was in my late teens. I argued with him, and begged and pleaded for a 9mm Glock in high school. He saw no reason for his vegetarian pacifist artist of a daughter to be interested in such things. so the subject was dropped. I went off to Art school, at Kent State and got lost until I woke up years later in the Canyon one day, knowing not who I was, but what I was made of.
Whilst mi Madre was convinced that I only had to wear a bullet proof vest at my new job for insurance reasons (note: the federal government does not take out insurance policies on its business practices) because no one would EVER want to hurt a Park Ranger, mi Padre acknowledged and supported that which was pulling me forward. We were on the same team, just like when I was a small child in Harfleur, always claiming, through bready smiles, that the end of the baguette got caught yet again in the elevator on the way back from the market. (Firearms and Baked goods are of equal importance.)
Some time later I fell in love with a boy. We had the exact same hand guns with the same features, and took this (as well as some other secrets) as a sign of our eternal compatibility. It was not.
My gun totting, tree hugging, granola crunching body broke my wrist whilst sliding across the ice on the way back from the recycle bin. I fractured a tiny moon shaped bone, called the Lunate, and then fractured it over and over again until the marrow seeped out, whilst trying to improve my suddenly declining firearms skills. While my wrist is healed, my grip changed, as did my once passionate love affair. I can shoot a Sig 45 with great accuracy, but the 40 cal just does not sit in my palm as it once did, nor does my love sit inside my soul.
My love told me at one time in the past, that he would buy my Sig from me if I wanted to sell it, so that our matching pistols would always be together, and I could more easily afford a 45. He mentioned this again the other day in an email regarding the final serration of all our belongings. He has a new love, a young love, in his home and, hopefully, in his heart. While I am perfectly blissed out in my life, I would feel more comfortable were he to give his object of affection my entire collection of lingerie then ever give her the opportunity to pull back my 10lb/4.5lb double action/single action trigger.
--------------------------------------------------------
Lyrics of the Day by Drive-By Truckers
PIN HITS THE SHELL
You can lie to your Mama,
you can lie to your race
but you can't lie to nobody
with that cold steel in your face.
And the same God that you're so afraid
is gonna send you to hell
is the same one you're gonna answer to
when the pin hits the shell.
Your sister's been blaming everybody.
I don't blame her, man,
I guess I'd blame them too
if you was my brother, man,
I'd probably stand by you.
But you ain't, man, so I got to go my way.
And I ain't gonna crawl upon no high horse
Cause I got thrown off of one
when I was young and I ain't no cowboy
so I ain't going where I don't belong.
It wouldn't do you no good to let you know
that it damned near killed me too
so I ain't gonna mourn for you, man,
now that you're gone.
Me and you, we liked our pills and our whiskey.
But you don't want your head full of either one
when the house gets quiet and dark.
Having fun used to be so damned easy,
racing trains from 2nd Street to Avalon.
Take a trip down memory lane,
You don't see no friendly faces
all the houses have been painted
and nobody knows your name.
It's enough to make a man not want
to be nobody's Daddy,
when all he thinks he's got left to hand down is guilt and shame.
And I ain't gonna crawl upon no high horse........
Cause I got thrown off of one
when I was young and I ain't no cowboy
so I ain't going where I don't belong. I
t wouldn't do you no good to let you know
that it damned near killed me too
so I ain't gonna mourn for you, man,
now that you're gone.
You can lie to your Mama,
you can lie to your race
but you can't lie to nobody
with that cold steel in your face.
And the same God that you're so afraid
is gonna send you to hell
is the same one you're gonna answer to
when the pin hits the shell.
06-11-2008
Thursday, December 6, 2007
On Snow and Metaphysics
the storm has come in
done its part
the pressure lifts.
snow is on the ground
and the sun is shinning again.
with my toy pup i venture out.
we are running
waving to neighbors as i take in the cold air
the tiny little sacks in my lungs which help disperse oxygen from my bronchioli into my bloods stream pulsate and burn with life.
i am alive
i am running
i am burning
i am here
right now
don't need to prove anything
cuz i am in the air,
and a large part of the universe is alive inside my skin.
12-06-2007
done its part
the pressure lifts.
snow is on the ground
and the sun is shinning again.
with my toy pup i venture out.
we are running
waving to neighbors as i take in the cold air
the tiny little sacks in my lungs which help disperse oxygen from my bronchioli into my bloods stream pulsate and burn with life.
i am alive
i am running
i am burning
i am here
right now
don't need to prove anything
cuz i am in the air,
and a large part of the universe is alive inside my skin.
12-06-2007
Friday, November 2, 2007
I've Got A Red Hot Meteor Inside My Soul
I am sure I can not continue to live
the meteor is going to crash through the wall at any moment
and destroy my pain.
I stand herefor such a long while
waiting for something bigger to happen
something biggerand different then this.
The meteor comes not to annihilate me
instead the fiery alien rock
burns into my chest
replacing my suspended heart.
I wonder how it is
that I am forced to keep walking in this world
with a rock in my chest?
I feel hard and lonely
mixed with nothing and despairon the inside.
After a few days
I start to feel the deep and ancient warmth of this alien stone
caring for my warm blood and life force
as it patiently waits for me to wake up.
My body is getting warmer every day
in preparation
to live sing and dance
not just once more;
Like I never have before.
11-02-2007
the meteor is going to crash through the wall at any moment
and destroy my pain.
I stand herefor such a long while
waiting for something bigger to happen
something biggerand different then this.
The meteor comes not to annihilate me
instead the fiery alien rock
burns into my chest
replacing my suspended heart.
I wonder how it is
that I am forced to keep walking in this world
with a rock in my chest?
I feel hard and lonely
mixed with nothing and despairon the inside.
After a few days
I start to feel the deep and ancient warmth of this alien stone
caring for my warm blood and life force
as it patiently waits for me to wake up.
My body is getting warmer every day
in preparation
to live sing and dance
not just once more;
Like I never have before.
11-02-2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
My Albatross is an Empty Box
I floated out to a new world
on a paddle boat of excuses
lashed together with an inability to let go
made buoyant by an impenetrable arms length
of bubble wrap, wax and
imaginary kittens kept around another's heart.
I adjusted my sail
made out of the sensitive skin
shed when the rest flew away
stretched across the bones
which promised they would support my every move
they still do
The new land is green blue
brown and red
varied
lush
providing me with all I need
with promises never to live up to my expectations
Time stops for a moment as I contemplate
and appreciate my mode travel
I see it for its good and change
what I have made it into- loving it all the same
I launch my skiff into the largest
swiftest river
screaming with passion and joy at the newness and danger of it all
and look forward
My home is on the river.
LJS
09-28-07
on a paddle boat of excuses
lashed together with an inability to let go
made buoyant by an impenetrable arms length
of bubble wrap, wax and
imaginary kittens kept around another's heart.
I adjusted my sail
made out of the sensitive skin
shed when the rest flew away
stretched across the bones
which promised they would support my every move
they still do
The new land is green blue
brown and red
varied
lush
providing me with all I need
with promises never to live up to my expectations
Time stops for a moment as I contemplate
and appreciate my mode travel
I see it for its good and change
what I have made it into- loving it all the same
I launch my skiff into the largest
swiftest river
screaming with passion and joy at the newness and danger of it all
and look forward
My home is on the river.
LJS
09-28-07
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Mmm, Phishy Phish!
Phish vs The Grateful Dead: I was too busy listening to Industrial music and carving a trench in my soul, to get into the dead when they were touring. I never saw them live, so I do not have that most pure experience to reference. Recently I took the time to open my mind and ears to both Jam Bands. I like Phish better. If you are the type of person to tell me that my personal taste in music is inappropriate, or even heresy, I am pretty sure Jerry himself would tell you to ef off. Music is experienced differently by everyone, and I'll be damned if I pretend I like something better, just because it is trendy.
09-19-2007
09-19-2007
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Is that the Acid or just the Autism?
Well meaning ass holes constantly approach his mother in public comment on what they view as her obvious lack of parenting skills. What kind of kid throws himself on the floor in public, right? He does not look like a special needs person so it must be her fault, right? Funny how they never care enough to engage in an actual conversation. Then they would have to see the error in their judgemental ways and apologize. This blows my mind, and gives me pause. I think a bit more before I scowl at folks with loud or differently behaving children.
While his lack of empathy is the source of so many misunderstandings in his life in this instance it allows him a greater freedom.
I recently found the perfect dance partner in this Autistic child. I am used to rocking out in my own special way, but Zachary has brought so much joy into my life with his particular brand of choppy movement. His signature move is a series of downward robotic homeboy slices. No matter the size of the crowd or lack of fellow dancers, he always agrees to dance, or even asks me. He dances in earnest, in his own private world, which I am gifted in sharing. Zachary truly embraces the joy of the dance in a way that acid droppers nation wide can only dream of. I am secretly his understudy.
09-01-2007
While his lack of empathy is the source of so many misunderstandings in his life in this instance it allows him a greater freedom.
I recently found the perfect dance partner in this Autistic child. I am used to rocking out in my own special way, but Zachary has brought so much joy into my life with his particular brand of choppy movement. His signature move is a series of downward robotic homeboy slices. No matter the size of the crowd or lack of fellow dancers, he always agrees to dance, or even asks me. He dances in earnest, in his own private world, which I am gifted in sharing. Zachary truly embraces the joy of the dance in a way that acid droppers nation wide can only dream of. I am secretly his understudy.
09-01-2007
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