All Of a Sudden I was In Love With The World

Once upon a time it was dark and lonely, then I woke up.
Once upon a time I woke up and I was in love in love with myself.

I could have any job I wanted, and I did.
    I was a professional bad ass.  
I could conquer all of my fears, and I did.
    Searching a burning building blinded is far less scary than a being married to the wrong guy.
I could have any guy I wanted, and I did.
    Sheer confidence is the hottest thing I have ever worn.

Once upon a time I fell in love with a moonpie adventurer.
He was hot as hell, and looked just like me.
This went along well with my recent crush on myself,
Though it weirded out some of my friends.
"Dude! You look related!"
Um, no. He looks like a sexy dude version of me.
Totally different.
Totally hot.
We flew to the moon and back through each others eyes,
Until one day he looked at me funny, and ended it.

So there was only one thing I could do.
I woke up the next day, ready for the next challenge.
Hello world! I am here for adventure!
Bring it! 
Oh hey, Look at you, long haired hippie HVAC repair man,
walking all sexy into the post office.
I had not previously noticed your extreme levels of hotness.
Tag!
You are It!

But every time I set my eyes on something new,
There my goodbye lover was,
Making sad moon eyes at me.
Because once upon a time, the moonpie wouldn't let me go.

What in the hail is your problem?
Why are you looking at me like that?
Why are your arms wrapped around mine,
As I listen to Willie Nelson sing about love
And simper over a sauce in my bachelorette kitchen?
And
Why do you keep showing up here, giving me that look?
"Because I am in love with you."
And you broke up with me.

Once upon a time the moonpie answered.
Then the earth fell out from under my feet,
Not from launching my dreams,
but having my dream, the one I was living in, snatched  away.
I believed I was strong.
I knew I could have anything I wanted.
I knew I could do anything and everything I set my heart on.
No one could stop me!

Once upon a time the moonpie looked down at his feet as he told me
"Your butt is too big."
My what is what?
"Your butt is too big. Especially in proportion to your boobs."
I...
My...?
And then he kissed me, and told me maybe he could live with it.
He loved me, not my ass.
Why why why why why baby 
If its so evil then?*

Damn it took forever to get rid of that moonpie.

For the record, I love my butt.  

It takes me everywhere I want to go.

My Favorite Mode Of Travel is By The Seat Of My Pants. ~LJ Schorr

*This post was written while listening to various versions of Jesus Built My Hotrod. 

"Little Grandma"

This is my very, very happy Great- Grandmother, Florence, in Scotland. Little Grandma was known for packing light, and traveling the world with just one suitcase.

We called her Little Grandma because she was the smallest of all Grandmothers. She was always smiling and happy, and quite frequently holding my brother, William or I. One of my earliest memories was of dancing jigs with her on her 91st birthday. She danced the highland fling and later the piper played one of those syrupy un-timed tunes one does not hear too often.

(I am still dancing, Little Grandma!)

Out of the Woods

You're out of the woods, You're out of the dark, You're out of the night.
Step into the sun, Step into the light.
Keep straight ahead for the most glorious place
On the Face of the Earth or the sky.
Hold onto your breath, Hold onto your heart, Hold onto your hope.
March up to the gate and bid it open!

-Wizard of Oz

I would not usually be pleased to catch myself singing this ef'ing shrill song, but the circumstances surrounding said spontaneous outbursts are nothing but joyful. Life is good. New job is good. I'll take your peppy lyrics and raise you a swing in my walk and some pepper in my talk.

In other news: Cell phone died. "No chargeee no more." Driving 90 miles to get an iPhone this weekend. I can be reached by email or via my home phone, should you have either of those. I think you can message me via this site should you be lacking complete information.

Almost Heaven, Arizona!

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)

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

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

A Little Bjork in the Morning Kicks Foldger's A$$!

A long time ago, when my world was black, I went through a phase of unceasing dissatisfaction. I had to listen to Bjork's Hyperballad (the Tibetan Freedom Concert Version) in order to get up out of bed, the tub or off the floor in the morning and continue living my colourless and spiritless life. My life was not perfect but the music was. I liked how it reminded me that material goods, like car parts and bottles and cutlery, were disposable, while relationships were not.

While more than one boi found the lyrics to be dangerous, I found them to be freeing. After living on the suicide destination of the Southwest, the rim of the Grand Canyon for five years, it was impossible for me to ignore the monumental choice I made, to live, every single morning. I imagined what my body would sound like slamming against those rocks, and invariably choose a path of endurance and adventure. My soul grew.

Now my life is my own private Hyperballad.

HYPER BALLAD
by Bjork
We live on a mountain
Right at the top
There's a beautiful view
From the top of the mountain
Every morning I walk towards the edge
And throw little things off
Like:Car parts, bottles and cutlery
Or whatever I find lying around
It's become a habit
A way
To start the day
I go through all this
Before you wake up
So I can feel happier
To be safe up here with you
It's early morning
No one is awake
I'm back at my cliff
Still throwing things off
I listen to the sounds they make
On their way down
I follow with my eyes 'til they crash
Imagine what my body would sound like
Slamming against those rocks
When it lands
Will my eyesBe closed or open?
I go through all this
Before you wake up
So I can feel happier
To be safe up here with you..

05-16-2007