Dearest Jimmi -
I'm WRITING you now - simply because verbal communication lines are temporarily down. Why? I'm not really sure, but hopefully this letter will help you to understand how much and how deeply I really do care for you and our relationship together.
Jimmi - I love you so very much and it truly frustrates me whenever you question that love. I know I'm horrible at times and I know you just want to give up because you feel that we're not getting stronger, but weaker and further apart. But - please Jim - don't give up just yet. I know I don't show how much I LOVE and NEED and WANT YOU all the time (mainly out of stubbornness) but those feelings are ALWAYS there and although it sounds theatrical and melodramatic - I know I would die without you. You are my world. The love of my life. I want to be beside you forever. (However long that may be!) I'm really sorry things have been so tense between us... I'm not sure what's been wrong with me. I promise to try and be better to you and treat you like you deserve to be treated. Do you think you can hold on just a little while longer? I know we are going to come out of this a much better couple! Although I couldn't imagine loving you more than I do now - I know once our differences are behind us - I'll love you much much more!!
Hang in there!?!
I love you.
YOURS FOREVER,
C.
PS Thanks for not giving up already.
PPS Thanks for last night!
Thursday, June 30, 2011
People used to love me. (2/24/92)
Jim-
Didn't you say that love notes don't mean anything to you?! They're silly!! Remember? Anyway - thanks for the "silly little love letter." They mean a lot to me!! You haven't lost me - so why try and win me back? In case you FORGOT - YOU ARE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!
Have a wonderful day - sweetness.
I love you,
C.
Didn't you say that love notes don't mean anything to you?! They're silly!! Remember? Anyway - thanks for the "silly little love letter." They mean a lot to me!! You haven't lost me - so why try and win me back? In case you FORGOT - YOU ARE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!
Have a wonderful day - sweetness.
I love you,
C.
People used to love me. (Friday Sept. 13, 1991.)
Jimmi,
I'm really sorry for all the trouble Jeff is causing us. I know how you must just want to give up at times. Thanks for hanging in there... a lesser person would have asked me to leave long ago. I'm sorry for depending so much on you for strength, especially when you need as much strength as you can muster for yourself. I'll try to be stronger... for all of us. As for matters concerning C., you're doing great... considering how trying he can be. I know as time goes on you will feel more comfortable having him (us) in your house. Again - thank you for all the things you have done to make us feel that you really want us to be a part of your life.
I love you always,
C.
I'm really sorry for all the trouble Jeff is causing us. I know how you must just want to give up at times. Thanks for hanging in there... a lesser person would have asked me to leave long ago. I'm sorry for depending so much on you for strength, especially when you need as much strength as you can muster for yourself. I'll try to be stronger... for all of us. As for matters concerning C., you're doing great... considering how trying he can be. I know as time goes on you will feel more comfortable having him (us) in your house. Again - thank you for all the things you have done to make us feel that you really want us to be a part of your life.
I love you always,
C.
People used to love me. (Sunday 7/21/91 9:31 am.)
Jim,
Sorry I took off without saying good-bye, but I truly hate to wake you up when you're sleeping so well.
Anyway - thanks for the wonderful time I had last night. I'd love to do it again - SOON!!
I'll call you later this evening. Have a GREAT day!
XOXO,
C.
(I love you. I love being with you.)
Sorry I took off without saying good-bye, but I truly hate to wake you up when you're sleeping so well.
Anyway - thanks for the wonderful time I had last night. I'd love to do it again - SOON!!
I'll call you later this evening. Have a GREAT day!
XOXO,
C.
(I love you. I love being with you.)
People used to love me. Sometimes in a passive/aggressive way.
(Saturday, July 6, 1991.)
Dear Jimmi,
I'm writing you this letter in hopes to make my feelings for you clear...not only to you but to myself.
Jim, I have never met anyone like you - ever. What I mean is I have never met such a sincere and genuine man - someone I feel I could share any thought with and be comfortable in telling.
I keep trying to tell myself to just give you some time and eventually you'll feel the same about me, but after last night I'm not really sure of what to expect and I know definitely not to assume anything of you. I mean honestly - you knew I was planning on coming over - so where were you? I tried to call around 9:30 pm or so, you didn't answer so I waited a few minutes then decided to drive on over - of course you weren't home, then around 12:00 am I drove back. I was really worried - why didn't you leave a note or message with James at work? At least then I would have only been upset or disappointed for not getting to be with you, but no instead you had to leave me to wonder if you were ok. Why would you do that to me or anyone else for that matter? Regardless of your reasons I hope you're ok. Because of last night I realized just how much you're beginning to mean to me. I find myself thinking about you all the time.
I know I'm being totally unfair to you by still being married, but I've been wondering would my being single make you want to be with me any more or is my marriage a good excuse or is it our ages or my having a child?
Whatever the case I must know how you feel about me and I need to know the truth - now. I need to know if I'm wasting my time on a relationship going nowhere - not that it would make much difference because whether you like me or not I still will care for you - a lot. I know you think it's silly and premature of me to tell you I love you, but honestly Jim I do love you and the more I'm with you the harder it is for me to be without you. I don't want to scare you off - that's the last thing I'd want to do. I just want you to know how much you mean to me and how much I love being with you. I think you're the greatest.
Well, I guess I'll go. I hope to talk to you or see you soon. I'll be thinking about you.
Love always,
C.
PS If you don't want to see me anymore don't be afraid to tell me. I would be ok. It might hurt but I would be ok.
Maybe you could write me?
Dear Jimmi,
I'm writing you this letter in hopes to make my feelings for you clear...not only to you but to myself.
Jim, I have never met anyone like you - ever. What I mean is I have never met such a sincere and genuine man - someone I feel I could share any thought with and be comfortable in telling.
I keep trying to tell myself to just give you some time and eventually you'll feel the same about me, but after last night I'm not really sure of what to expect and I know definitely not to assume anything of you. I mean honestly - you knew I was planning on coming over - so where were you? I tried to call around 9:30 pm or so, you didn't answer so I waited a few minutes then decided to drive on over - of course you weren't home, then around 12:00 am I drove back. I was really worried - why didn't you leave a note or message with James at work? At least then I would have only been upset or disappointed for not getting to be with you, but no instead you had to leave me to wonder if you were ok. Why would you do that to me or anyone else for that matter? Regardless of your reasons I hope you're ok. Because of last night I realized just how much you're beginning to mean to me. I find myself thinking about you all the time.
I know I'm being totally unfair to you by still being married, but I've been wondering would my being single make you want to be with me any more or is my marriage a good excuse or is it our ages or my having a child?
Whatever the case I must know how you feel about me and I need to know the truth - now. I need to know if I'm wasting my time on a relationship going nowhere - not that it would make much difference because whether you like me or not I still will care for you - a lot. I know you think it's silly and premature of me to tell you I love you, but honestly Jim I do love you and the more I'm with you the harder it is for me to be without you. I don't want to scare you off - that's the last thing I'd want to do. I just want you to know how much you mean to me and how much I love being with you. I think you're the greatest.
Well, I guess I'll go. I hope to talk to you or see you soon. I'll be thinking about you.
Love always,
C.
PS If you don't want to see me anymore don't be afraid to tell me. I would be ok. It might hurt but I would be ok.
Maybe you could write me?
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
My "novella-la." 33 years in the making.
I can't let Scooter out do me...
I started on this story when I was 17 years old. I was having fun with language and imagery - combining dreams, fantasy, family tales and an actual spot in the woods, near our house, that my oldest sister had named "the Moss Hide-out." The main character, Pete Moss, was inspired by my 7th grade teacher. At the beginning of the year, while checking the attendance of a brand new group of students, he would call out, "Pete Moss? Pete Moss?" He did this for a week. Pete never answered. Finally, it dawned on him that he was being prank-ed.
I started on this story when I was 17 years old. I was having fun with language and imagery - combining dreams, fantasy, family tales and an actual spot in the woods, near our house, that my oldest sister had named "the Moss Hide-out." The main character, Pete Moss, was inspired by my 7th grade teacher. At the beginning of the year, while checking the attendance of a brand new group of students, he would call out, "Pete Moss? Pete Moss?" He did this for a week. Pete never answered. Finally, it dawned on him that he was being prank-ed.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
"I Like Cheese" by Scooter.
This is Scooter, hard at work on his first novel, entitled, "I Like Cheese." So far (after a couple of years of false starts) he has: "I like cheese. It's good." That's like a doggy version of "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." Well, in my humble estimation, anyway...
Monday, June 27, 2011
4:26, on a hot June morning.
It's 4:26 in the morning. I'm sitting here at my computer watching Bette Midler, in grainy black and white, singing, and generally carrying on, at The Continental Baths, in NYC, circa 1971. This is amazing footage. A legend come to life. It's no wonder why WE love The Divine Miss M.
While surfing around, I learned of the 2004 death of Derek Frigo, the awesome guitarist from Enuff Z'Nuff, of a drug overdose. I saw him perform with the band in the early nineties. Guitar fireworks, spandex, wide brimmed hat and a ciggy jutting out of a bunch of hair. What a great show. RIP, Derek.
I was trying to convey to a friend, recently, how I feel like I'm in an alternate world, now. Like a ghost haunting the living. I'm not sure how well I got my point across. Saying that "things have changed" in the last 5 years doesn't even begin to cover it. I'm never fully present, these days.
I have to have a blood test done today and I have to get my disability appeal papers in order. It almost feels like my health concerns have become my job, sometimes.
That's about it, I suppose. I should really get back in bed, but I'll probably do a little more surfing. Heck, I'm hanging ten even as we speak...
While surfing around, I learned of the 2004 death of Derek Frigo, the awesome guitarist from Enuff Z'Nuff, of a drug overdose. I saw him perform with the band in the early nineties. Guitar fireworks, spandex, wide brimmed hat and a ciggy jutting out of a bunch of hair. What a great show. RIP, Derek.
I was trying to convey to a friend, recently, how I feel like I'm in an alternate world, now. Like a ghost haunting the living. I'm not sure how well I got my point across. Saying that "things have changed" in the last 5 years doesn't even begin to cover it. I'm never fully present, these days.
I have to have a blood test done today and I have to get my disability appeal papers in order. It almost feels like my health concerns have become my job, sometimes.
That's about it, I suppose. I should really get back in bed, but I'll probably do a little more surfing. Heck, I'm hanging ten even as we speak...
Sunday, June 26, 2011
This and that. Nothing, really.
Gods don't kill people. People with gods kill people.
A group of paleontologists are now suggesting that Shakespeare may have been a stoner.
I recently saw the "Beverly Hill-billies" episodes where they went to England. Also, when they came home, and Jethro, still jazzed about feuding and being royalty and such, became Robin Hood - enlisting some local hippies as his merry men. The main hippie, who wanted to "smoke some crawdads," was played by Alan Reed,Jr. Oddly enough, his dad, Alan Reed, was the voice of Fred Flintstone.
Chlamydia is killing Koalas.
Scientists have discovered "Space Lightning," the highest electrical current in the universe. Space Lightning is equal to one trillion regular lightning bolts!
Shocking...
New study: Potato chips can make you fat.
Internet babble:
"This will put a hand to grow these two chicks..."
"I do here what I mean screamer kick order ban ok."
A group of paleontologists are now suggesting that Shakespeare may have been a stoner.
I recently saw the "Beverly Hill-billies" episodes where they went to England. Also, when they came home, and Jethro, still jazzed about feuding and being royalty and such, became Robin Hood - enlisting some local hippies as his merry men. The main hippie, who wanted to "smoke some crawdads," was played by Alan Reed,Jr. Oddly enough, his dad, Alan Reed, was the voice of Fred Flintstone.
Chlamydia is killing Koalas.
Scientists have discovered "Space Lightning," the highest electrical current in the universe. Space Lightning is equal to one trillion regular lightning bolts!
Shocking...
New study: Potato chips can make you fat.
Internet babble:
"This will put a hand to grow these two chicks..."
"I do here what I mean screamer kick order ban ok."
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Stuff. (Early am edition.)
I'm awake. I have been for some time. I haven't been able to sleep lately.
I saw a lawyer, yesterday, and had another delightful visit to the Social Security office. More paperwork, more filing, more waiting. And waiting. If only I could see a light at the end of the tunnel...
I received a text from the ghost, yesterday. The ghost and her ghost-ettes want to visit. Scary. I'm at one of the lowest points of my 50 year existence. I don't know if I would be able to pull off this potential spectral hosting, as it were.
Oh, the shame of it all!
I'm working on a crossword puzzle. What's the only U.S. state whose name has no letters in common with the name of its capital? Four letters (abbr.).
On the agenda:
I'm laying low this weekend.
I have a blood test Monday to check my Warfarin levels. It's called a "Pro-Time."
I have to go over my appeal paperwork with a fine tooth comb, make copies of it, medical bills and drug information and mail it off.
I need to come up with a solution to my current bills. Somehow.
Where's the dignity?! (I'm not aging well.)
I saw a lawyer, yesterday, and had another delightful visit to the Social Security office. More paperwork, more filing, more waiting. And waiting. If only I could see a light at the end of the tunnel...
I received a text from the ghost, yesterday. The ghost and her ghost-ettes want to visit. Scary. I'm at one of the lowest points of my 50 year existence. I don't know if I would be able to pull off this potential spectral hosting, as it were.
Oh, the shame of it all!
I'm working on a crossword puzzle. What's the only U.S. state whose name has no letters in common with the name of its capital? Four letters (abbr.).
On the agenda:
I'm laying low this weekend.
I have a blood test Monday to check my Warfarin levels. It's called a "Pro-Time."
I have to go over my appeal paperwork with a fine tooth comb, make copies of it, medical bills and drug information and mail it off.
I need to come up with a solution to my current bills. Somehow.
Where's the dignity?! (I'm not aging well.)
Friday, June 24, 2011
Letter from Russell. Nov. 1989.
(Russell's handwriting was pretty sloppy. There were some words I just couldn't make out...)
Tuesday night (late).
Dear James,
I want to talk. So I'm writing tonight to express - to try to figure out (how shall we say) life. It seems I've spent so much of my life trying to analyze what it is to be alive. What is it? What is it? Is it a series of getting ups and lying downs? Is it the processing of so much food into shit? Or so much life into shit? God, I'm torn between wanting to live forever and being done with it now! You see, there is a passion of wanting - to taste of life - to see what happens - to understand - to grow. But the path is so wearisome. You can't know it all - no one can. My eyes pass across so many things; what went into all of them? I wanted to write - what an incredible being this human animal is. But that's only flattery. How could we be incredible to anyone but ourselves? Vanity thy name is human.
None of us are unique! None of us are special! We are so alike that any ____ differences are ____.
So what if Russell B.
Lic. no. 53....
S.S. no. 241....
Phone no. 92....
Birth cert. no. 218....
Death cert. no. 66....
does something - anything. God, to be relegated to mediocrity. You know, to some degree, humans fail at everything!
(Ended, I guess, that Tuesday night.)
Early Nov.
God, that's pretty good shit up there! Tonight's writing will probably not fare as well. I just talked to you on the phone and I'm going to enclose some of the cartoons I can find. (Far Side, Calvin and Hobbes.)
Was interrupted by phone call from the wicked bitch of the "Hill." I am quite angry right now. Must close.
Please enjoy the comics.
Your 17 year friend,
Russ
Tuesday night (late).
Dear James,
I want to talk. So I'm writing tonight to express - to try to figure out (how shall we say) life. It seems I've spent so much of my life trying to analyze what it is to be alive. What is it? What is it? Is it a series of getting ups and lying downs? Is it the processing of so much food into shit? Or so much life into shit? God, I'm torn between wanting to live forever and being done with it now! You see, there is a passion of wanting - to taste of life - to see what happens - to understand - to grow. But the path is so wearisome. You can't know it all - no one can. My eyes pass across so many things; what went into all of them? I wanted to write - what an incredible being this human animal is. But that's only flattery. How could we be incredible to anyone but ourselves? Vanity thy name is human.
None of us are unique! None of us are special! We are so alike that any ____ differences are ____.
So what if Russell B.
Lic. no. 53....
S.S. no. 241....
Phone no. 92....
Birth cert. no. 218....
Death cert. no. 66....
does something - anything. God, to be relegated to mediocrity. You know, to some degree, humans fail at everything!
(Ended, I guess, that Tuesday night.)
Early Nov.
God, that's pretty good shit up there! Tonight's writing will probably not fare as well. I just talked to you on the phone and I'm going to enclose some of the cartoons I can find. (Far Side, Calvin and Hobbes.)
Was interrupted by phone call from the wicked bitch of the "Hill." I am quite angry right now. Must close.
Please enjoy the comics.
Your 17 year friend,
Russ
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Letter from Russell. Dec. 30, 1985.
(Russell was a great friend of mine. He was smart and kind, a sports fan and loved books and movies. He died way too soon. I feel like life cheated him. Even now, reading these treasured letters, he makes me smile - and laugh aloud. I miss him.)
Dear James,
Hey you great big knuckle-head (pronounced with an emphasised K, you know like K-nife)! Damn, what a truly strange experience, writing - with pen in hand - expressing thought via written language. Do you realize that this is probably the last letter I'll write in the grand old year of '85? Sadly, I'm afraid it's also the first. What you see is what you get. I think that's probably ok with you, I think you like these unedited first editions, in their full glory of misspellings, grammar (gone wrong?).
James, son, it was truly wonderful seeing you Christmas. Thank you for the gift (I did go to sleep first and I saved it for last. Again thank you). I've read your letter several times, truly a treasure.
(Pardon, I had to blow my nose again - damn Russell, why in the world would James or anybody else want you to tell them about blowing your nose? Good lord, you don't particularly like knowing yourself.) Excuse that - whatever the hell it was.
I'm listening to the man - Jim Croce - "one less set of footsteps." I like the part, "If that's the way you want it, that's the way I want it, more." Damn, what a man, man.
Ever notice how all the talented people are named James, Jim or something like that? What's a Russell? I don't know, probably some doctor or damn shed builder.
Damn, I use damn a lot. Maybe it's ok, damn's a good word. Kind of adds a little emphasis. I mean Jesus, God chose it for a last name.
James, what do you think will become of me? I sometimes feel it's just a matter of time before I strike it big. Others, I'm just one of the struggling.
Let's get together again soon. Damn, it's nice talking with you. Come see me. I'm telling you like I told my other family members. I ask them, if I were to fall off a ladder or in some other way get hurt, and were in the hospital, wouldn't you come see me? They generally say they would. But, the thing is, don't make me go through all that pain. And it would also be a lot more fun for us to be able to go places - where hospital beds aren't allowed. In other words, drag your damn ass up here and do it soon.
Your loving brother,
Russell
Dear James,
Hey you great big knuckle-head (pronounced with an emphasised K, you know like K-nife)! Damn, what a truly strange experience, writing - with pen in hand - expressing thought via written language. Do you realize that this is probably the last letter I'll write in the grand old year of '85? Sadly, I'm afraid it's also the first. What you see is what you get. I think that's probably ok with you, I think you like these unedited first editions, in their full glory of misspellings, grammar (gone wrong?).
James, son, it was truly wonderful seeing you Christmas. Thank you for the gift (I did go to sleep first and I saved it for last. Again thank you). I've read your letter several times, truly a treasure.
(Pardon, I had to blow my nose again - damn Russell, why in the world would James or anybody else want you to tell them about blowing your nose? Good lord, you don't particularly like knowing yourself.) Excuse that - whatever the hell it was.
I'm listening to the man - Jim Croce - "one less set of footsteps." I like the part, "If that's the way you want it, that's the way I want it, more." Damn, what a man, man.
Ever notice how all the talented people are named James, Jim or something like that? What's a Russell? I don't know, probably some doctor or damn shed builder.
Damn, I use damn a lot. Maybe it's ok, damn's a good word. Kind of adds a little emphasis. I mean Jesus, God chose it for a last name.
James, what do you think will become of me? I sometimes feel it's just a matter of time before I strike it big. Others, I'm just one of the struggling.
Let's get together again soon. Damn, it's nice talking with you. Come see me. I'm telling you like I told my other family members. I ask them, if I were to fall off a ladder or in some other way get hurt, and were in the hospital, wouldn't you come see me? They generally say they would. But, the thing is, don't make me go through all that pain. And it would also be a lot more fun for us to be able to go places - where hospital beds aren't allowed. In other words, drag your damn ass up here and do it soon.
Your loving brother,
Russell
The Cracks.
It's very stormy out. There's dangerous weather on the way. I already have limbs down in my yard. After the nearly 100 degree high today, I hope we at least get some rain.
I received an answer from Social Security today. I was turned down. After being unemployed for 7 months and trying for benefits for the last few, it's a no. Enlarged Heart, High Blood Pressure, Ventricular Tachycardia, Atrial Fibrillation, a Pacemaker/Defibrillator combo, a NEW weird heart rhythm, a messed up Thyroid Gland and an impending Heart Procedure - and I STILL fall through the cracks. I need help.
I'm seeing a lawyer tomorrow.
Wow, it's pouring rain, now. It's the best thing that's happened lately.
PS I hate my life.
I received an answer from Social Security today. I was turned down. After being unemployed for 7 months and trying for benefits for the last few, it's a no. Enlarged Heart, High Blood Pressure, Ventricular Tachycardia, Atrial Fibrillation, a Pacemaker/Defibrillator combo, a NEW weird heart rhythm, a messed up Thyroid Gland and an impending Heart Procedure - and I STILL fall through the cracks. I need help.
I'm seeing a lawyer tomorrow.
Wow, it's pouring rain, now. It's the best thing that's happened lately.
PS I hate my life.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Stuff.
I'm tired. I didn't get much sleep last night. I had a crazy dream about being paired off for marriage with a Chinese girl. At first I was with one - she was very modern and Americanized, I was attracted to her - and then I was with her sister. The sister was very formal and reserved and spoke only Chinese. At first. Then I got her alone and found out that she was playing good daughter for her very traditional parents.
During the whole dream, my mom was cooking a big pot of stew beef, but everyone who walked through the kitchen threw something in the pot. The second Chinese girl tossed in some yellow flowers.
There was a large crowd - a kind of celebration. At one point, two of my exes entered the house. I remember that the huge pot of rice on the stove didn't have enough water.
It's so strange the way you hear all the news within minutes, now. I'm thinking of Clarence Clemmons' death (RIP Big Man) and the story about Leslie West having his leg amputated. Back in the day, music news was about a month late. You had to wait for the next issue of Rolling Stone or Creem to come out. But, I still miss those days. Go figure.
I had another talk with the ghost last night. I think I'm going to let sleeping ghosts lie. And, you know, hope this one dozes off.
No word on my disability benefits yet. I'm getting desperate. I have 71 cents - I just counted it. And the bills are still rolling in...
My life couldn't be stranger if it were fiction. I had an odd encounter today that I won't go into.
I had my Warfarin levels checked last Monday. They were a little off, so the doctor wants me to have them checked again next week. Also, my thyroid meds had to be doubled. Double the dosage, double the money.
Summer started yesterday, so HAPPY SUMMER! Yesterday was the longest day of the year. It's only June, but the days are already getting shorter. It doesn't seem right, somehow.
Thanks again to my friend Chuck, for helping me record a couple of my songs over the weekend. One is called "Mortal." It's the title track for the film project. It's raw and real - like the film, like me.
Does anyone remember that old cartoon where the Indians (they weren't Native Americans then) sing, "We want rain! Blaaaauugh!"? I feel like trying that. We are in the middle of an awful drought. The grass in my yard is brown and crunchy. With my luck, if I attempted a rain chant I'd probably get struck by lightning. Maybe I should do what they did at Woodstock: "No rain! No rain!" That endeavor resulted in the soaking of a half a million hippies. In my case, it would be a kind of reverse meteorological psychology. (Jeez, I just realized that Woodstock was over 40 years ago!)
I have a good feeling about the new Winnie the Pooh movie. Just from the commercials, it seems as if Disney is making all the right moves.
During the whole dream, my mom was cooking a big pot of stew beef, but everyone who walked through the kitchen threw something in the pot. The second Chinese girl tossed in some yellow flowers.
There was a large crowd - a kind of celebration. At one point, two of my exes entered the house. I remember that the huge pot of rice on the stove didn't have enough water.
It's so strange the way you hear all the news within minutes, now. I'm thinking of Clarence Clemmons' death (RIP Big Man) and the story about Leslie West having his leg amputated. Back in the day, music news was about a month late. You had to wait for the next issue of Rolling Stone or Creem to come out. But, I still miss those days. Go figure.
I had another talk with the ghost last night. I think I'm going to let sleeping ghosts lie. And, you know, hope this one dozes off.
No word on my disability benefits yet. I'm getting desperate. I have 71 cents - I just counted it. And the bills are still rolling in...
My life couldn't be stranger if it were fiction. I had an odd encounter today that I won't go into.
I had my Warfarin levels checked last Monday. They were a little off, so the doctor wants me to have them checked again next week. Also, my thyroid meds had to be doubled. Double the dosage, double the money.
Summer started yesterday, so HAPPY SUMMER! Yesterday was the longest day of the year. It's only June, but the days are already getting shorter. It doesn't seem right, somehow.
Thanks again to my friend Chuck, for helping me record a couple of my songs over the weekend. One is called "Mortal." It's the title track for the film project. It's raw and real - like the film, like me.
Does anyone remember that old cartoon where the Indians (they weren't Native Americans then) sing, "We want rain! Blaaaauugh!"? I feel like trying that. We are in the middle of an awful drought. The grass in my yard is brown and crunchy. With my luck, if I attempted a rain chant I'd probably get struck by lightning. Maybe I should do what they did at Woodstock: "No rain! No rain!" That endeavor resulted in the soaking of a half a million hippies. In my case, it would be a kind of reverse meteorological psychology. (Jeez, I just realized that Woodstock was over 40 years ago!)
I have a good feeling about the new Winnie the Pooh movie. Just from the commercials, it seems as if Disney is making all the right moves.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
People used to love me - sometimes in a sorta scary way. Feb. 1986.
I was married when I received this letter from my ex.
Jimmi,
Did you like the postcard? It's been almost 5 years now. I guess you've been asking - why is she writing me now? I've got a secret that I haven't told anyone. I feel like it's been long enough and it's too important for me to keep to myself any longer. I know I said I'd never tell you, but things change. I'll close for now. I'll see you soon.
Love,
K.W.
Jimmi,
Did you like the postcard? It's been almost 5 years now. I guess you've been asking - why is she writing me now? I've got a secret that I haven't told anyone. I feel like it's been long enough and it's too important for me to keep to myself any longer. I know I said I'd never tell you, but things change. I'll close for now. I'll see you soon.
Love,
K.W.
My ex-wife.
This is a photo of my ex-wife, taken just before I met her. The following is a note she left me after we separated. It's dated March, 1989.
Jimmi,
I came by and as you can see I cooked something for you to eat! I thought you got off at 3:00 and it's 4:00 now. Maybe you had other plans. Well anyway, I hope you enjoy your meal. I've had a GREAT time being here alone. I've played all the records that you hate and danced all day. I just had a good time entertaining myself. I have to go at least by 5:00, so if you're not here when I leave I wanted to let you know how I enjoyed the use of your house.
Love,
B.
Jimmi,
I came by and as you can see I cooked something for you to eat! I thought you got off at 3:00 and it's 4:00 now. Maybe you had other plans. Well anyway, I hope you enjoy your meal. I've had a GREAT time being here alone. I've played all the records that you hate and danced all day. I just had a good time entertaining myself. I have to go at least by 5:00, so if you're not here when I leave I wanted to let you know how I enjoyed the use of your house.
Love,
B.
Monday, June 20, 2011
On the back of a Western Steer place-mat. Late 80s.
Meet George Jetson.
His daughter Judy.
His son Elroy.
Jane, his wife.
His dog Astro.
Some bitch in heat (C'mere, Astro!).
His flying car mechanic, Speedy.
Star-Child, his drug dealer.
His hot-blooded, Latin, homosexual lover, Enrique.
And:
How can you find the middle? How can you be exact?
Sometimes, it feels right. Sometimes, it flows through me - pure, dazzling, speeding and electric. I live for those moments. The rest of my life is spent lost in the desert - waiting for a revelation.
His daughter Judy.
His son Elroy.
Jane, his wife.
His dog Astro.
Some bitch in heat (C'mere, Astro!).
His flying car mechanic, Speedy.
Star-Child, his drug dealer.
His hot-blooded, Latin, homosexual lover, Enrique.
And:
How can you find the middle? How can you be exact?
Sometimes, it feels right. Sometimes, it flows through me - pure, dazzling, speeding and electric. I live for those moments. The rest of my life is spent lost in the desert - waiting for a revelation.
Steer note to myself. June 28, 1990.
I don't want this. I don't want anything. I'm very tired of my existence. I'm tired of waking up each day. I feel centuries old. World weary.
Someone please dig me a hole. I have neither the strength or courage.
"When Black Friday comes
I'm gonna dig myself a hole
I'm gonna lay down in it, 'til I satisfy my soul..." Steely Dan.
Someone please dig me a hole. I have neither the strength or courage.
"When Black Friday comes
I'm gonna dig myself a hole
I'm gonna lay down in it, 'til I satisfy my soul..." Steely Dan.
Steer note to Big Mac. Late 80s.
(Apparently we had some sort of running joke about Flipper. I can't recall what it was...)
I hereby postulate the theory of a parallel universe in which "Flipper," undaunted by time, ratings, ozone depletion or the somewhat disturbing notion of an Earthly counterpart, continues his finny existence - in prime time!
Jim-Jim
I hereby postulate the theory of a parallel universe in which "Flipper," undaunted by time, ratings, ozone depletion or the somewhat disturbing notion of an Earthly counterpart, continues his finny existence - in prime time!
Jim-Jim
First Lollapalooza. 1991.
It was August. It was hot. I went with a bunch of friends, but had to take my own car (a early 70s Duster), at the last minute, so my girlfriend could go. It was a loooooong day. Lots of beer and... whatever. Got plenty of sun. Became separated from everyone at the end of the night and wandered around, through the large crowd, in the dark, in an exhausted, inebriated state, looking for my girlfriend and my car. About half-way home, on an abandoned stretch of I-40, my engine blew up. It left a hole in the block bigger than my fist. We finally caught a ride with a nice old man who was headed our way. The perfect concert experience.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Letter to Russell. (Early 80s)
Dear Russell -
This letter is intended for you only - although, most probably, no one else would have the slightest interest in its contents. It's hard for me to sit down and put my thoughts on paper these days, but since I can't talk to you, I'm making an effort.
I hope life is treating you better than it is me lately. Sniff, sniff. (Right?) Allow me to indulge myself in my sorrows, please. I have only you to do so with. You alone, I feel, can actually relate to the feelings of loneliness, despair, alienation and frustration that I feel. I've made an effort to be "normal," but I'm just not "normal." I'm not. And I sometimes feel a rage that stems from being made to feel that I should be like everyone else. And a disgust for myself for trying.
B. thinks I'm a "snob" because I don't socialize with all these "average folks." (Keep in mind, I'm not putting people down for being ordinary - I swear - it's just that I can't talk to them without re-arranging my vocabulary and holding back my "radical" opinions.) Russell, I just CAN'T, with good conscience, spend money to support the good life (that I want for myself) of some mercenary film-maker by seeing "Friday the 13th, Part Whatever, Beyond the Final Chapter ("whatever the hell else you want to put in there..." as Irving Cohen would say) with a bunch of these good, ordinary people.
I'm sorry.
Russell, I've been really screwed up lately. I fell for an 18 year old girl, recently. I would have given anything to make love to her. One night, when we were drinking a good bit, I touched her shoulder, turned her around and kissed her, good and deep. Just like that. She responded. But, we were drunk and she's just 18 and I don't get to see her that much, so I don't know if it meant anything at all to her. I'm supposed to take her to the prom (!), so maybe that will tell me something, as we'll have some time alone. I think she's into chicks also. But, that's alright by me. In fact, it kinda turns me on! Ok, I'm perverted. So, what else is new?
I was in a very, very deep depression, a while back, that lasted for weeks. That was fun, I tell you. I was sick to death of everything. I mean EVERYTHING! I felt as if my heart (for lack of a better description) was very heavy and weary - world weary. I saw no point in living. None what-so-ever. Everything had lost its meaning to me. All the little joys in life no longer made me the least bit happy. I wanted an end to come to my existence. I can't say I wanted to kill myself - who really wants to do that - but I wanted my life to end, somehow.
I am happy (?!) to say that that's over with now. Now, I'm only slightly depressed (compared to what I suffered before). I have all of the same symptoms, only not as intense. I had just started taking some medication before and I think it could have kicked my depression into over-drive, by causing changes in me.
By causing changes in me. Boy, what a stoopid sounding line. But, this is what you get when you're dealing with a Ruff Giraffe, right?
I wish I could show you this cartoon from Hustler. Try to imagine this man and woman sitting at a restaurant table, over a candle-lit meal. The woman has these huge, exposed, exaggerated breasts that are lying all over the table. The man has this monstrous penis, about 3 feet long, sticking up in front of him. Got it? Ok. The caption reads, "...but, that's enough about me. Say, that's a mighty big dick you have there."
So, enough about me.
You know Russell, just writing this has helped me. So, thanks for reading it and being understanding.
I guess you really don't need to hear this shit from me. You've probably gotten your life all straightened out now. I hope you do. I mean that. Nothing would make me happier or give me more hope for myself.
Please write me and let me know how you're doing. I haven't heard from you in quite a while.
Russ, I still want to make it with a beautiful black chick. If I come up, can you set me up? Or, maybe, you know, 5 or 6, so we can have an orgy. That's something to live for! If you can't get a black one, I'll settle for a gorgeous white one...
We're the last of a dying breed, Russel B. (two Ls - no E). Let's not abandon each other.
Remember: The Smurfs are Satanic!
Zappa has this album out (he releases 3 or 4 a year, it seems) called, "Thing Fish." It's a triple album. He seems to be trying to make some statement about the black/white thing. But, true to Zappa fashion, I'll be damned if I know what the hell he means. Eddie T. says he's making fun of blacks. And so it seems - except he has a black guy narrating, so I say it's satire. But, I still don't know what the hell he's saying.
Oh well, a bit of fluff and a good-bye.
Write me. See me. Have passionate and furious sex with me.
Love -
Jimmi
PS "King Kong" is coming to Wilmington!
If you like Prince's music (I do) and you think his image is interesting, then go see "Purple Rain" (if you haven't already). But try to be open-minded. Remember: It's all for FUN! No, the acting may not be the greatest, but there's something fresh about it. And, the musical performances? They are HOT! Better yet - bring your VCR down with you and we'll rent some flicks. We belong to a club now. Ha! Ha!
Another thing: Let's get REAL drunk together one day.
I think that's all.
Jimmi
(Author's comments: Boy, I don't know where to begin. I was all over the place in that letter. I sound manic. Let's start with my obsession with the 18 year old girl. Bear in mind, I was only 23 at the time - but I was also married. She was a friend of ours and I was a very depressed young man. I used the word "obsession" and that's exactly what it was. Looking back, I'm amazed that I ever thought I had any real feelings for her.
The next thing I should address is the depression. At one point in the letter, I made it sound as if I had been sad but now I was better. I didn't get better until I was in my late 20s. I was severely depressed for years. It was a dark time in my life that I have trouble even thinking about.
On a lighter note, "Ruff Giraffe" is a term I came up with in high school. It derives, of course, from "rough draft." I remember illustrating the Ruff Giraffe - kinda punk rock, wearing leather and chains... It was just a silly joke between Russell and I.
"Black chicks." Ahem... My friend Russell had shared with me that he had had sex with a black girl, someone that he worked with. I'm not in the least bit racist, and neither was he, but interracial dating was still a rather explosive topic in the South, in those days. Jeez, it's a difficult subject. It's hard to get 3 words into it without sounding suspect. Let's just say that it was some good natured ribbing between 2 friends.
In "Thing Fish," I believe that Frank Zappa was using outrageous stereotypes to satirize white people's notions about African-Americans. He also touched on secret government operations, the AIDS crisis, homosexuality and feminism. Zappa was a fearless artist and, therefore, a champion for free speech.
In trying to be a little more fearless myself, artistically, I am sharing some awfully awkward notes, letters and confessions from my life. I've never been perfect, but I feel warranted to state that I have always had a good heart [metaphorically speaking]. Peace and Love, baby.)
This letter is intended for you only - although, most probably, no one else would have the slightest interest in its contents. It's hard for me to sit down and put my thoughts on paper these days, but since I can't talk to you, I'm making an effort.
I hope life is treating you better than it is me lately. Sniff, sniff. (Right?) Allow me to indulge myself in my sorrows, please. I have only you to do so with. You alone, I feel, can actually relate to the feelings of loneliness, despair, alienation and frustration that I feel. I've made an effort to be "normal," but I'm just not "normal." I'm not. And I sometimes feel a rage that stems from being made to feel that I should be like everyone else. And a disgust for myself for trying.
B. thinks I'm a "snob" because I don't socialize with all these "average folks." (Keep in mind, I'm not putting people down for being ordinary - I swear - it's just that I can't talk to them without re-arranging my vocabulary and holding back my "radical" opinions.) Russell, I just CAN'T, with good conscience, spend money to support the good life (that I want for myself) of some mercenary film-maker by seeing "Friday the 13th, Part Whatever, Beyond the Final Chapter ("whatever the hell else you want to put in there..." as Irving Cohen would say) with a bunch of these good, ordinary people.
I'm sorry.
Russell, I've been really screwed up lately. I fell for an 18 year old girl, recently. I would have given anything to make love to her. One night, when we were drinking a good bit, I touched her shoulder, turned her around and kissed her, good and deep. Just like that. She responded. But, we were drunk and she's just 18 and I don't get to see her that much, so I don't know if it meant anything at all to her. I'm supposed to take her to the prom (!), so maybe that will tell me something, as we'll have some time alone. I think she's into chicks also. But, that's alright by me. In fact, it kinda turns me on! Ok, I'm perverted. So, what else is new?
I was in a very, very deep depression, a while back, that lasted for weeks. That was fun, I tell you. I was sick to death of everything. I mean EVERYTHING! I felt as if my heart (for lack of a better description) was very heavy and weary - world weary. I saw no point in living. None what-so-ever. Everything had lost its meaning to me. All the little joys in life no longer made me the least bit happy. I wanted an end to come to my existence. I can't say I wanted to kill myself - who really wants to do that - but I wanted my life to end, somehow.
I am happy (?!) to say that that's over with now. Now, I'm only slightly depressed (compared to what I suffered before). I have all of the same symptoms, only not as intense. I had just started taking some medication before and I think it could have kicked my depression into over-drive, by causing changes in me.
By causing changes in me. Boy, what a stoopid sounding line. But, this is what you get when you're dealing with a Ruff Giraffe, right?
I wish I could show you this cartoon from Hustler. Try to imagine this man and woman sitting at a restaurant table, over a candle-lit meal. The woman has these huge, exposed, exaggerated breasts that are lying all over the table. The man has this monstrous penis, about 3 feet long, sticking up in front of him. Got it? Ok. The caption reads, "...but, that's enough about me. Say, that's a mighty big dick you have there."
So, enough about me.
You know Russell, just writing this has helped me. So, thanks for reading it and being understanding.
I guess you really don't need to hear this shit from me. You've probably gotten your life all straightened out now. I hope you do. I mean that. Nothing would make me happier or give me more hope for myself.
Please write me and let me know how you're doing. I haven't heard from you in quite a while.
Russ, I still want to make it with a beautiful black chick. If I come up, can you set me up? Or, maybe, you know, 5 or 6, so we can have an orgy. That's something to live for! If you can't get a black one, I'll settle for a gorgeous white one...
We're the last of a dying breed, Russel B. (two Ls - no E). Let's not abandon each other.
Remember: The Smurfs are Satanic!
Zappa has this album out (he releases 3 or 4 a year, it seems) called, "Thing Fish." It's a triple album. He seems to be trying to make some statement about the black/white thing. But, true to Zappa fashion, I'll be damned if I know what the hell he means. Eddie T. says he's making fun of blacks. And so it seems - except he has a black guy narrating, so I say it's satire. But, I still don't know what the hell he's saying.
Oh well, a bit of fluff and a good-bye.
Write me. See me. Have passionate and furious sex with me.
Love -
Jimmi
PS "King Kong" is coming to Wilmington!
If you like Prince's music (I do) and you think his image is interesting, then go see "Purple Rain" (if you haven't already). But try to be open-minded. Remember: It's all for FUN! No, the acting may not be the greatest, but there's something fresh about it. And, the musical performances? They are HOT! Better yet - bring your VCR down with you and we'll rent some flicks. We belong to a club now. Ha! Ha!
Another thing: Let's get REAL drunk together one day.
I think that's all.
Jimmi
(Author's comments: Boy, I don't know where to begin. I was all over the place in that letter. I sound manic. Let's start with my obsession with the 18 year old girl. Bear in mind, I was only 23 at the time - but I was also married. She was a friend of ours and I was a very depressed young man. I used the word "obsession" and that's exactly what it was. Looking back, I'm amazed that I ever thought I had any real feelings for her.
The next thing I should address is the depression. At one point in the letter, I made it sound as if I had been sad but now I was better. I didn't get better until I was in my late 20s. I was severely depressed for years. It was a dark time in my life that I have trouble even thinking about.
On a lighter note, "Ruff Giraffe" is a term I came up with in high school. It derives, of course, from "rough draft." I remember illustrating the Ruff Giraffe - kinda punk rock, wearing leather and chains... It was just a silly joke between Russell and I.
"Black chicks." Ahem... My friend Russell had shared with me that he had had sex with a black girl, someone that he worked with. I'm not in the least bit racist, and neither was he, but interracial dating was still a rather explosive topic in the South, in those days. Jeez, it's a difficult subject. It's hard to get 3 words into it without sounding suspect. Let's just say that it was some good natured ribbing between 2 friends.
In "Thing Fish," I believe that Frank Zappa was using outrageous stereotypes to satirize white people's notions about African-Americans. He also touched on secret government operations, the AIDS crisis, homosexuality and feminism. Zappa was a fearless artist and, therefore, a champion for free speech.
In trying to be a little more fearless myself, artistically, I am sharing some awfully awkward notes, letters and confessions from my life. I've never been perfect, but I feel warranted to state that I have always had a good heart [metaphorically speaking]. Peace and Love, baby.)
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Late 70s?
The sons of men grow taller now
A day is gone - what is the hour?
My self-esteem is fading
Its dying thoughts are saying:
What do you care?
What matters to you?
Do you care at all?
Friendship's burning embers
That fall among the timbers
Light the skies of yesterday
And make me wanna say:
What do you care?
What matters to you?
Do you care at all?
An hour and 45 minutes ago
The pace was fast, but now it's slow
The mood I'm in makes it seem a task
But still, I have to ask:
What do you care?
What matters to you?
Do you care at all?
The willingness of someone new
The thoughts transferred from me to you
Initiation: A redundant bore
A chore, a chore, a chore.
What do you care?
What matters to you?
Do you care at all?
A day is gone - what is the hour?
My self-esteem is fading
Its dying thoughts are saying:
What do you care?
What matters to you?
Do you care at all?
Friendship's burning embers
That fall among the timbers
Light the skies of yesterday
And make me wanna say:
What do you care?
What matters to you?
Do you care at all?
An hour and 45 minutes ago
The pace was fast, but now it's slow
The mood I'm in makes it seem a task
But still, I have to ask:
What do you care?
What matters to you?
Do you care at all?
The willingness of someone new
The thoughts transferred from me to you
Initiation: A redundant bore
A chore, a chore, a chore.
What do you care?
What matters to you?
Do you care at all?
Probably late 70s.
I wanna a girl with frizzy hair
An ostrich plume in her hat
A crochet vest, bell-bottoms, no shoes
Oh, where can I find a girl like that?
An ostrich plume in her hat
A crochet vest, bell-bottoms, no shoes
Oh, where can I find a girl like that?
Steer Silliness (probably early 90s).
Of course, Anton Briggs could not be sure - considering his ordeal with the mutant Brazilian buck-toothed jungle weasels - but, when the Amazon women arrived with coffee and donuts, he thought perhaps life had played a cruel joke on him...
Understandably, John was more than a little concerned after waking from a dream screaming, "Sure, it was just a poodle - but what a poodle!!" Freudian concerns aside, it was just plain creepy...
Understandably, John was more than a little concerned after waking from a dream screaming, "Sure, it was just a poodle - but what a poodle!!" Freudian concerns aside, it was just plain creepy...
1992. (On the back of a Western Steer placemat.)
I slept on and on
But, awoke with a start.
The rain spoke to me with the voice of a child
And I listened.
Boy, did I listen.
They show up in the most unexpected places,
Sprouting tender green,
Then running wild.
I don't know them.
They're fast and slow -
They're small and curious.
Curious.
Do I explore unknown territories?
Or, do I look out my window?
My window of contentment.
Content to say content.
I
Dunno.
So
There...
But, awoke with a start.
The rain spoke to me with the voice of a child
And I listened.
Boy, did I listen.
They show up in the most unexpected places,
Sprouting tender green,
Then running wild.
I don't know them.
They're fast and slow -
They're small and curious.
Curious.
Do I explore unknown territories?
Or, do I look out my window?
My window of contentment.
Content to say content.
I
Dunno.
So
There...
Monday, June 13, 2011
Henry James.
"Every man who has reached even his intellectual teens begins to suspect that life is no farce; that it is not genteel comedy even; that it flowers and fructifies on the contrary out of the profoundest tragic depths of the essential dearth in which its subject's roots are plunged. The natural inheritance of everyone who is capable of spiritual life is an unsubdued forest where the wolf howls and the obscene bird of night chatters."
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Christmas-time, early 90s. At the golf course.
I've mentioned, several times, the "old guy I used to work with." Well, here he is, along with a couple of good friends, whom I also worked with.
Boy, we were a flurry of plaid in those days.
A woman who worked in the pro shop used to give the old man embarrassing gag gifts for Christmas. Here, the guys are modeling his present, gold lame panties, in an effort to embarrass him further. He was an easy mark.
Boy, we were a flurry of plaid in those days.
A woman who worked in the pro shop used to give the old man embarrassing gag gifts for Christmas. Here, the guys are modeling his present, gold lame panties, in an effort to embarrass him further. He was an easy mark.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Score cards.
I worked on a golf course (2, actually) for many years. The way it ended, last November, left an awful taste in my mouth. It was as if everything I had done, everything I had touched, in the last 17 years, was negated. A huge chunk of my life, wasted.
There were some good times, over the years, and I hope that one day I'll be able to remember them, without the awful ending and ensuing bitterness.
It reminds me of a break-up, in the early 90s. My ex had given me 2 Nina Hagen tapes, and I couldn't listen to them for years. Luckily, I got over that. Same thing with "Loaded" by the Velvets. My last ex took a shine to it, over all of their other albums, and left with it, back in 2007. I had to buy it again, years later (ending up with a copy that has the edited version of "Sweet Jane"), and only last week was I able to enjoy it.
Progress!
I found a couple of score cards, today, from the golf course (original course, original name), circa '93 or '94, on which I had scribbled some notes.
And away we go:
Vista Lee
I pass your way on the road to twelve
Vista Lee
Your people are quiet
Your homes are swell
I only wish I had a tale to tell
About Vista Lee.
(Build your coffins with glue, not nails
When it's time to leave
"Eden" lies on the other side, you see.)
And these tidbits:
Send in a professional
I can't seem to get it right
God, I've given it my best shot (wide angle lens).
The (L)one wolf.
Rogue male syndrome.
Man's inability to touch godhead.
The longing for sweet death. Yum.
Every man to his own lifeboat.
Keep on truckin' for Buddha,
Orville Redenbacher,
The Grim Reaper,
Wile E. Coyote,
J.C. and the Rebel Angels,
And TRUE love. Amen.
(Sex ain't love, people.)
Two chickens in every garage.
The worst of both worlds.
Three x a lady = ?
A bird in hand is better than bird shit on your head.
Fight for your right to atrophy.
Them IS us.
Why ask why ask why?
Yes way out.
Lester Bangs call home.
I've got no more to offer. Thought I'd offer that.
See ya.
There were some good times, over the years, and I hope that one day I'll be able to remember them, without the awful ending and ensuing bitterness.
It reminds me of a break-up, in the early 90s. My ex had given me 2 Nina Hagen tapes, and I couldn't listen to them for years. Luckily, I got over that. Same thing with "Loaded" by the Velvets. My last ex took a shine to it, over all of their other albums, and left with it, back in 2007. I had to buy it again, years later (ending up with a copy that has the edited version of "Sweet Jane"), and only last week was I able to enjoy it.
Progress!
I found a couple of score cards, today, from the golf course (original course, original name), circa '93 or '94, on which I had scribbled some notes.
And away we go:
Vista Lee
I pass your way on the road to twelve
Vista Lee
Your people are quiet
Your homes are swell
I only wish I had a tale to tell
About Vista Lee.
(Build your coffins with glue, not nails
When it's time to leave
"Eden" lies on the other side, you see.)
And these tidbits:
Send in a professional
I can't seem to get it right
God, I've given it my best shot (wide angle lens).
The (L)one wolf.
Rogue male syndrome.
Man's inability to touch godhead.
The longing for sweet death. Yum.
Every man to his own lifeboat.
Keep on truckin' for Buddha,
Orville Redenbacher,
The Grim Reaper,
Wile E. Coyote,
J.C. and the Rebel Angels,
And TRUE love. Amen.
(Sex ain't love, people.)
Two chickens in every garage.
The worst of both worlds.
Three x a lady = ?
A bird in hand is better than bird shit on your head.
Fight for your right to atrophy.
Them IS us.
Why ask why ask why?
Yes way out.
Lester Bangs call home.
I've got no more to offer. Thought I'd offer that.
See ya.
Un-groovy decay.
As I tossed and turned last night, I was hit - BOOM - with the realization that I'm falling to pieces, physically and psychologically. Some of it has been dramatic, some of it is normal aging stuff. The combination of the two results in a murky soup of despondency that I find difficult to digest.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Does this look finished?
The massive road project, in my small town, was supposed to be completed by June 1. It's the ninth, today, and this is what it looks like (picture courtesy of our local paper). There are lots of angry business owners - and drivers...
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
People used to love me. (June 20, 1992)
Dearest Jimmi -
Hello Jim - C. here. How are things in your world? Lately - I've been having terrible dreams about "us." I guess I've been having these dreams due to worry, stress, doubt, etc. I would try to describe these dreams to you, but it would only be what I remember and I remember only bits and pieces. I'm so STUPID - I have NO idea why I started this letter this way.
Anyway - I keep wondering what's going to happen to "us" (you, me and the new baby, that you never ask about), but then I realize it's absolutely pointless to wonder. Besides isn't ignorance - bliss?? I used to have/hold lots of promise for us...but...the longer we're apart (and the LESS I talk to you) the more that promise turns to doubt. I'm sure you feel the same - how could you not - considering our history together. Of course you must really care for me - some. Either that or you're intimidated by my persistence - or you just don't want to hurt my feelings. Maybe you feel obligated? Oh God - PLEASE don't feel obligated to me! I realize I can be a true emotional burden (UNINTENTIONALLY - of course) but if given the chance I could be better. I could be almost everything you want. Like you - I would LOVE for US to be a unified front, a team, best buddies - and maybe someday we will - but for now I'm willing to work non-stop for that better relationship. I know it's just a matter of my growing up. Please just give me a little more time. Until then - just remember: I LOVE YOU. I think you're WONDERFUL and I'd give anything just to have you care about me.
Well - I guess I'll close for now. I'm really sorry - I had no intention of writing some of the things I did - but I only wrote what came to my mind first. I'm also sorry about the penmanship - I was just too LAZY to write this over - neatly. Please understand. I love you. Write me??
Yours for as long as you'll have me -
C.
Hello Jim - C. here. How are things in your world? Lately - I've been having terrible dreams about "us." I guess I've been having these dreams due to worry, stress, doubt, etc. I would try to describe these dreams to you, but it would only be what I remember and I remember only bits and pieces. I'm so STUPID - I have NO idea why I started this letter this way.
Anyway - I keep wondering what's going to happen to "us" (you, me and the new baby, that you never ask about), but then I realize it's absolutely pointless to wonder. Besides isn't ignorance - bliss?? I used to have/hold lots of promise for us...but...the longer we're apart (and the LESS I talk to you) the more that promise turns to doubt. I'm sure you feel the same - how could you not - considering our history together. Of course you must really care for me - some. Either that or you're intimidated by my persistence - or you just don't want to hurt my feelings. Maybe you feel obligated? Oh God - PLEASE don't feel obligated to me! I realize I can be a true emotional burden (UNINTENTIONALLY - of course) but if given the chance I could be better. I could be almost everything you want. Like you - I would LOVE for US to be a unified front, a team, best buddies - and maybe someday we will - but for now I'm willing to work non-stop for that better relationship. I know it's just a matter of my growing up. Please just give me a little more time. Until then - just remember: I LOVE YOU. I think you're WONDERFUL and I'd give anything just to have you care about me.
Well - I guess I'll close for now. I'm really sorry - I had no intention of writing some of the things I did - but I only wrote what came to my mind first. I'm also sorry about the penmanship - I was just too LAZY to write this over - neatly. Please understand. I love you. Write me??
Yours for as long as you'll have me -
C.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
RIP Andrew Gold.
I've just heard of the death of singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, pop genius Andrew Gold. He died from an apparent heart attack at the age of 59.
I first became aware of Andrew from his work with Linda Ronstadt in the 70s. He later had several solo hits. His best known song, "Thank You for Being a Friend," was re-recorded and used as the theme song for the TV show, "The Golden Girls."
Gold was a vital part of the California rock sound in the 70s, having recorded with Ronstadt, Jackson Browne, Carly Simon, James Taylor, and many others.
I first became aware of Andrew from his work with Linda Ronstadt in the 70s. He later had several solo hits. His best known song, "Thank You for Being a Friend," was re-recorded and used as the theme song for the TV show, "The Golden Girls."
Gold was a vital part of the California rock sound in the 70s, having recorded with Ronstadt, Jackson Browne, Carly Simon, James Taylor, and many others.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Incomplete story idea, Pt.2. (Late 70s?)
Marcen, King High, Ruler of Kyoliomontrom, knew he had to attempt to dissuade his brother from attacking the Knowlings, and if that failed, he would have to do battle against him, in the interest of the kingdom. He knew, also, in his heart, that the Knowlings possessed power beyond imagining, and if Dachirus antagonized them, they would assume he represented Kyoliomontrom and would rain destruction upon the Ky people. He set out, with an army, on this most important mission.
Marcen soon found his brother, in the canyon called Dradle Frey. Dachirus stood firmly, as his brother confronted him. He seemed to be obsessed with retrieving the Retlaw, planning to head East at daybreak with his band of outlaws. After heated words and one last unheeded warning from Marcen, Dachirus drew his sword. That is when the King High attacked the Lord Ky.
It seemed, at first, that Marcen's army would make short shrift of Dachirus' rag tag militia, but this would not be the case, for early in the fight, reserves, fighting for the Lord Ky, poured into the canyon. One of Marcen's men, Abtrad, lit out, riding like the wind, to call for back-up, while Marcen's men battled to keep the outlaws at bay.
For a while, it was as if a stale-mate, with neither side gaining control. Then, the tables turned. Dachirus' men grew frightened, as if some horrible force had descended upon them, and began to flee in large numbers. What was happening?! Unbeknownst to Dachirus, old Smitheroff, in his wisdom, had bequeathed unto Marcen a handful of pages - the only ones in existence in Kyoliomontrom - from the very Retlaw that he sought. Marcen was using the arcane knowledge, the supernatural properties - yea, magic - contained in those powerful, precious pages, to somehow gain the upper hand in this grievous battle with his tragically misguided brother...
Marcen soon found his brother, in the canyon called Dradle Frey. Dachirus stood firmly, as his brother confronted him. He seemed to be obsessed with retrieving the Retlaw, planning to head East at daybreak with his band of outlaws. After heated words and one last unheeded warning from Marcen, Dachirus drew his sword. That is when the King High attacked the Lord Ky.
It seemed, at first, that Marcen's army would make short shrift of Dachirus' rag tag militia, but this would not be the case, for early in the fight, reserves, fighting for the Lord Ky, poured into the canyon. One of Marcen's men, Abtrad, lit out, riding like the wind, to call for back-up, while Marcen's men battled to keep the outlaws at bay.
For a while, it was as if a stale-mate, with neither side gaining control. Then, the tables turned. Dachirus' men grew frightened, as if some horrible force had descended upon them, and began to flee in large numbers. What was happening?! Unbeknownst to Dachirus, old Smitheroff, in his wisdom, had bequeathed unto Marcen a handful of pages - the only ones in existence in Kyoliomontrom - from the very Retlaw that he sought. Marcen was using the arcane knowledge, the supernatural properties - yea, magic - contained in those powerful, precious pages, to somehow gain the upper hand in this grievous battle with his tragically misguided brother...
Incomplete story idea, Pt.1. (Late 70s?)
In truth, "BLue-aire," as the age was known, began even as the Ky warriors returned victorious from war with the Balon of the West. In the minds of the Ky, the Balon were conspiring sorcerers (they had primitive factories from which constantly belched smoke). It was declared by old Smitheroff, King High over Kyoliomontrom, that upon the arrival of his warriors, he would step down from the throne, to be succeeded by one of his sons. Smitheroff was dying, and he knew it.
As the large seafaring vessels docked on the river, thousands of people covered the hills of Gondik to welcome the victors. Many came to greet kin. Some came to see Prince Dachirus, the Mighty, with his falcon companion, Chyli. Dachirus, a great battle champion, felt sure that he would occupy the throne upon his return. Prince Marcen, who had remained home, during the war, defending the homeland and keeping order, was also of the opinion that his brother would gain the throne.
After the homecoming, Smitheroff, King High, had many in-depth conversations with his two sons - often talking deep into the night. The brothers paid close heed to their father, as he spoke wisely of many things.
It wasn't long before Smitheroff, King High, did indeed depart to join his ancestors. Before his death, though, he told his sons of The Retlaw - a book of universal truths and laws governing those truths. In ancient times, the book had belonged to the Ky, but it had been lost, many, many years ago, during the War of the Separatez, when the Ky fought the Jermonz. Later, it was rumoured to be in the possession of the Knowlings (as the Ky called them), of the East. The Knowlings were a very ancient race. The old Ky tales said that the Knowlings needed no food or water, but existed on thought and knowledge. No one from Kyoliomontrom had ever seen a Knowling, but they feared them, considering them evil.
Old Smitheroff, King High, also imparted his decision in the matter of the throne: Marcen would be king.
Marcen was a born ruler. He was confident, calm and humane - but as brave and as willing to fight, if need be, as his brother. Dachirus, while a great warrior, was hot-headed and prone to violent outbursts. There seemed to be a madness in him, sometimes, which compromised his ability to make wise decisions. As a kind of consolation, Dachirus was given a large piece of land in the kingdom and a chest of gold and jewels - and the knowledge that if anything should happen to his brother, or his brother's line, that he, Dachirus, would gain the throne.
As time passed, Dachirus became more and more angry over his father's decision. He fumed and stomped about in his castle. The servants were terrified of him. Then, one night, he saddled up his horse, gathered a few men, and disappeared. After many months, Marcen received a report that his brother was in an extreme out-lying area of the kingdom, assembling an army and speaking publicly about attacking the Knowlings. It was rumoured that he desired the Retlaw - and was proclaiming himself "Lord Ky."
As the large seafaring vessels docked on the river, thousands of people covered the hills of Gondik to welcome the victors. Many came to greet kin. Some came to see Prince Dachirus, the Mighty, with his falcon companion, Chyli. Dachirus, a great battle champion, felt sure that he would occupy the throne upon his return. Prince Marcen, who had remained home, during the war, defending the homeland and keeping order, was also of the opinion that his brother would gain the throne.
After the homecoming, Smitheroff, King High, had many in-depth conversations with his two sons - often talking deep into the night. The brothers paid close heed to their father, as he spoke wisely of many things.
It wasn't long before Smitheroff, King High, did indeed depart to join his ancestors. Before his death, though, he told his sons of The Retlaw - a book of universal truths and laws governing those truths. In ancient times, the book had belonged to the Ky, but it had been lost, many, many years ago, during the War of the Separatez, when the Ky fought the Jermonz. Later, it was rumoured to be in the possession of the Knowlings (as the Ky called them), of the East. The Knowlings were a very ancient race. The old Ky tales said that the Knowlings needed no food or water, but existed on thought and knowledge. No one from Kyoliomontrom had ever seen a Knowling, but they feared them, considering them evil.
Old Smitheroff, King High, also imparted his decision in the matter of the throne: Marcen would be king.
Marcen was a born ruler. He was confident, calm and humane - but as brave and as willing to fight, if need be, as his brother. Dachirus, while a great warrior, was hot-headed and prone to violent outbursts. There seemed to be a madness in him, sometimes, which compromised his ability to make wise decisions. As a kind of consolation, Dachirus was given a large piece of land in the kingdom and a chest of gold and jewels - and the knowledge that if anything should happen to his brother, or his brother's line, that he, Dachirus, would gain the throne.
As time passed, Dachirus became more and more angry over his father's decision. He fumed and stomped about in his castle. The servants were terrified of him. Then, one night, he saddled up his horse, gathered a few men, and disappeared. After many months, Marcen received a report that his brother was in an extreme out-lying area of the kingdom, assembling an army and speaking publicly about attacking the Knowlings. It was rumoured that he desired the Retlaw - and was proclaiming himself "Lord Ky."
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The ghost.
I conjured the ghost tonight. She crossed over. I crossed over. Somebody crossed.
"I know what a ghost is... And I know what it isn't, too...it isn't a scarification or a flapping sheet, so pooh and pish to all THAT bunkum. What's a ghost? Unfinished business, is what." (From "The Satanic Verses" by Salman Rushdie.)
Unfinished business.
When dealing with ghosts, everything's the same - and everything's different. It's tricky business. You need to be at the top of your game. Every move could be your total downfall. Me? I'm a psychic weakling these days, I'm apt to trip over my Karmic shoelaces.
"I know what a ghost is... And I know what it isn't, too...it isn't a scarification or a flapping sheet, so pooh and pish to all THAT bunkum. What's a ghost? Unfinished business, is what." (From "The Satanic Verses" by Salman Rushdie.)
Unfinished business.
When dealing with ghosts, everything's the same - and everything's different. It's tricky business. You need to be at the top of your game. Every move could be your total downfall. Me? I'm a psychic weakling these days, I'm apt to trip over my Karmic shoelaces.
NOEL.
This is from a Christmas card I received in 1996, from an ex. I wish I could find him now. The last I heard about him was that he was sick and living in Texas.
Jim Jim,
I still think of you... I've kept all your poems and the portrait of me that you painted and the tapes. I hope you are well and happy. I would love to hear from you. History always IS!
Peace, Love and Joy always.
Bennie A.K.A. Bendeco
Jim Jim,
I still think of you... I've kept all your poems and the portrait of me that you painted and the tapes. I hope you are well and happy. I would love to hear from you. History always IS!
Peace, Love and Joy always.
Bennie A.K.A. Bendeco
Brie-fly. (From the late 70s?)
It's a Monday - a rather hot and unproductive kind of Monday.
"Suzi, come home right now! Get out of that pool and come home!"
That's the neighbor, calling her kid. Her brat. Swimming in my pool. Well, Arthur's pool. Arthur J. Stanley. He's the owner of the house I live in. He doesn't like the neighbor's kid, 'cause she's "spoiled rotten." I know these things because I'm the Brie-fly.
What kind of name is that? Who named me? I may have named myself. It doesn't matter.
I'm the Brie-fly.
Yes, it's an awfully hot Monday...
"Suzi, come home right now! Get out of that pool and come home!"
That's the neighbor, calling her kid. Her brat. Swimming in my pool. Well, Arthur's pool. Arthur J. Stanley. He's the owner of the house I live in. He doesn't like the neighbor's kid, 'cause she's "spoiled rotten." I know these things because I'm the Brie-fly.
What kind of name is that? Who named me? I may have named myself. It doesn't matter.
I'm the Brie-fly.
Yes, it's an awfully hot Monday...
More F.S. (1993)
A doodle I found on the bottom of a piece of notebook paper. Above it was a list for a mix tape that I had entitled "Mo' Better Funk."
The songs are as follows:
Side one:
The best of the Ohio Players.
"Hey Goodlookin'" (George Clinton)
Side two:
"Truth'll Set You Free"/"Baby Love"/"Thank You for the Love" (Mother's Finest)
"Get the Funk Out Ma Face"/"I'll be Good to You" (Brothers Johnson)
"You and I"/"Mary Jane" (Rick James)
"Jungle boogie"/"Hollywood Swingin'"/"Funky Stuff"/"More Funky Stuff" (Kool and the Gang)
The songs are as follows:
Side one:
The best of the Ohio Players.
"Hey Goodlookin'" (George Clinton)
Side two:
"Truth'll Set You Free"/"Baby Love"/"Thank You for the Love" (Mother's Finest)
"Get the Funk Out Ma Face"/"I'll be Good to You" (Brothers Johnson)
"You and I"/"Mary Jane" (Rick James)
"Jungle boogie"/"Hollywood Swingin'"/"Funky Stuff"/"More Funky Stuff" (Kool and the Gang)
Saturday, June 4, 2011
In midair.
I have nothing - save this swirling, whirly-gig, this Kubrick Ferris wheel, this crazy mandala, spinning, spinning, spinning, I tells ye. What do you have? Examine your condition, you may be missing out. Nah, you're better off with your all-purpose, well worn, Wonder bread linearity. Maybe you should stick with that. It seems, for all practical intents and purposes, to be working for you. I could be wrong. I often am.
What I have - nothing, remember, nothing but this crazy wheel - doesn't work right, isn't helpful, can't be trusted, is ragged and unruly, jumps up and grabs you, tosses you off, carts you to the edge and flings you about. It's wild and solemn, it's wicked and smells faintly of a languid demise.
Is it any wonder I try to insert benediction into this miasmatic maelstrom? This tumultuous cartoon? You've seen me hanging, in midair, over the canyon, flapping my arms. I'm ill suited for this type of existence. I need wings, like Icarus, so I can zoom toward the drama of my fiery ultimation. I know the way, believe me. I live to be nailed to the wall.
I no longer pray for catharsis. I am what I am. It is what it is. Being - with no reason, no expectations, no meaning, no promise. If I were younger, healthier, another person, the person I was, I'd be out dancing tonight - for no other reason than that I could.
What I have - nothing, remember, nothing but this crazy wheel - doesn't work right, isn't helpful, can't be trusted, is ragged and unruly, jumps up and grabs you, tosses you off, carts you to the edge and flings you about. It's wild and solemn, it's wicked and smells faintly of a languid demise.
Is it any wonder I try to insert benediction into this miasmatic maelstrom? This tumultuous cartoon? You've seen me hanging, in midair, over the canyon, flapping my arms. I'm ill suited for this type of existence. I need wings, like Icarus, so I can zoom toward the drama of my fiery ultimation. I know the way, believe me. I live to be nailed to the wall.
I no longer pray for catharsis. I am what I am. It is what it is. Being - with no reason, no expectations, no meaning, no promise. If I were younger, healthier, another person, the person I was, I'd be out dancing tonight - for no other reason than that I could.
Plan? I got no plan.
I'm sitting here, all alone, at my desk. I've been searching for ghosts on my laptop. I found some. They're ghosts in my world, but they're actually thriving, dynamic, vital, complete people - in their world. They have each other. They're forging onward. The future is theirs.
So now I'm thinking what a loser I am. I've never completed anything. Nothing has ever gone as planned. I made nothing of myself. And now, there's no chance of anything positive happening. At 50, I'm finished. Down the hill I go.
I've really made a mess of my life. I feel like, at this point, I'm just taking up space. Old and in the way.
I talked to my dog and cat today. I went outside, for a little bit, and scraped some paint off of a dresser I'm trying to refinish. I ate. That's about it. It's PRIDE weekend in Wilmington. There was supposed to be a flash mob downtown, this morning. That might have been fun. I didn't go, of course. I stayed home, talked to my pets and scraped paint.
What is the point, I wonder? What is the point..?
So now I'm thinking what a loser I am. I've never completed anything. Nothing has ever gone as planned. I made nothing of myself. And now, there's no chance of anything positive happening. At 50, I'm finished. Down the hill I go.
I've really made a mess of my life. I feel like, at this point, I'm just taking up space. Old and in the way.
I talked to my dog and cat today. I went outside, for a little bit, and scraped some paint off of a dresser I'm trying to refinish. I ate. That's about it. It's PRIDE weekend in Wilmington. There was supposed to be a flash mob downtown, this morning. That might have been fun. I didn't go, of course. I stayed home, talked to my pets and scraped paint.
What is the point, I wonder? What is the point..?
Friday, June 3, 2011
Not feeling so good.
I started out, today, feeling pretty good. In the afternoon, though, I had some heart weirdness. I have so much going on with my heart now that I can't tell what's what anymore. I haven't felt good since the weirdness occurred. In fact, I'm going to lie down now.
Life is weird.
Life is weird.
People used to love me. ( June 24th, 1992. 10:25 pm. Letter 4.)
Dearest Jimmi -
Hello sweetness! How are you doing? Me? I'm much better now that I've talked to you this evening. Like I've said so many times before - "you always know how to make me feel better and more secure, especially when I seem to be at my lowest point." Although sometimes I wonder if you're just sparing me the truth to keep from hurting me. Please don't do that to me - if you told me tomorrow that you didn't want me anymore - I would be terribly hurt but at least I wouldn't be holding on to a lie. Besides I only want you to be happy - with or without me. I'm going to shut up now - this letter is definitely headed downhill. Anyway - I'm sending this letter, along with a few more, with the box I had sent (and got back) to you a week or so ago. The only thing I'm not sending is the Doxycycline because I asked (a friend) at the post office and she said it was against the law and if I got caught I could face severe penalties - so I didn't take the chance. Hold on though - I'll bring them with me when I come (Thurs. the 2nd or Fri. The 3rd). I'm really sorry - I know you're anxious. I just hope that once you get them - they work. I'm sorry you're sick. Mine still hasn't cleared up completely. My next appointment isn't until July 16th. I don't understand how or why we even have this - infection. I swear I haven't had sex with ANYONE but you since I've known you! Except when you and I were both with G. and R. How about you? If I had been with someone I promise now would be when I would tell you. Please do the same.
Anyway - don't worry. I love you and I miss you. Please don't get over me yet. Take care of yourself.
Always yours-
C.
PS Don't forget to call and check on US every once in a while - ok?
Write back soon!
Hello sweetness! How are you doing? Me? I'm much better now that I've talked to you this evening. Like I've said so many times before - "you always know how to make me feel better and more secure, especially when I seem to be at my lowest point." Although sometimes I wonder if you're just sparing me the truth to keep from hurting me. Please don't do that to me - if you told me tomorrow that you didn't want me anymore - I would be terribly hurt but at least I wouldn't be holding on to a lie. Besides I only want you to be happy - with or without me. I'm going to shut up now - this letter is definitely headed downhill. Anyway - I'm sending this letter, along with a few more, with the box I had sent (and got back) to you a week or so ago. The only thing I'm not sending is the Doxycycline because I asked (a friend) at the post office and she said it was against the law and if I got caught I could face severe penalties - so I didn't take the chance. Hold on though - I'll bring them with me when I come (Thurs. the 2nd or Fri. The 3rd). I'm really sorry - I know you're anxious. I just hope that once you get them - they work. I'm sorry you're sick. Mine still hasn't cleared up completely. My next appointment isn't until July 16th. I don't understand how or why we even have this - infection. I swear I haven't had sex with ANYONE but you since I've known you! Except when you and I were both with G. and R. How about you? If I had been with someone I promise now would be when I would tell you. Please do the same.
Anyway - don't worry. I love you and I miss you. Please don't get over me yet. Take care of yourself.
Always yours-
C.
PS Don't forget to call and check on US every once in a while - ok?
Write back soon!
People used to love me. (June 22, 1992. Monday. Letter 3.)
Actually it's the 23rd, Tuesday 12:02.
Dearest Jim -
I'm sitting here this morning in Cindy's apartment...stoned. I really don't know why I'm here - I should be with you. I'm so lonely. I miss you so bad. I haven't heard from you - via phone or letter - in/for several days. (Actually since Friday morning.) Why? I would call you but you asked me not to call your sister and ask for you and you said that Melrose didn't want "your friends" to call during business hours. I honestly thought you would call Friday night (at 7:pm) when you said you would call, but I knew after 8:pm that you had forgotten all about calling little ol' me. Of course I'm probably reading more into this than need be. If so - I'm sorry. I guess you just don't understand how very much you mean to me. Maybe you're just getting over me. God! Please don't let that happen. I'm sorry for all the hurt I've ever caused you. I promise (given the chance) I'll do nothing but give 100%+ to make things the way they should be between us. I know I sound really stupid (I'm STONED - in case I haven't mentioned it?!) but even in my present state I KNOW what I want! All I want is for us to be "us" again. I'm sorry about Cin deciding not to come down in July but it's still a few more days to July - maybe things will change. I know regardless I WILL be HOME - soon. I know it will work this time - I'VE GOT HOPE!!! We're expecting a baby. I know we don't talk about it much but it's all I think about.I'm REALLY excited (scared too). I wish you were. I know you're only apprehensive due to our past relationship experience. We have potential to be great and I'm tired of seeing that potential being taken for granted. I love you - and I don't want to lose you.
Well - it's off to sleep I go. Hopefully - I'll talk to you - tomorrow?
Please write me back. I need to hear from you.
All my love -
C.
Dearest Jim -
I'm sitting here this morning in Cindy's apartment...stoned. I really don't know why I'm here - I should be with you. I'm so lonely. I miss you so bad. I haven't heard from you - via phone or letter - in/for several days. (Actually since Friday morning.) Why? I would call you but you asked me not to call your sister and ask for you and you said that Melrose didn't want "your friends" to call during business hours. I honestly thought you would call Friday night (at 7:pm) when you said you would call, but I knew after 8:pm that you had forgotten all about calling little ol' me. Of course I'm probably reading more into this than need be. If so - I'm sorry. I guess you just don't understand how very much you mean to me. Maybe you're just getting over me. God! Please don't let that happen. I'm sorry for all the hurt I've ever caused you. I promise (given the chance) I'll do nothing but give 100%+ to make things the way they should be between us. I know I sound really stupid (I'm STONED - in case I haven't mentioned it?!) but even in my present state I KNOW what I want! All I want is for us to be "us" again. I'm sorry about Cin deciding not to come down in July but it's still a few more days to July - maybe things will change. I know regardless I WILL be HOME - soon. I know it will work this time - I'VE GOT HOPE!!! We're expecting a baby. I know we don't talk about it much but it's all I think about.I'm REALLY excited (scared too). I wish you were. I know you're only apprehensive due to our past relationship experience. We have potential to be great and I'm tired of seeing that potential being taken for granted. I love you - and I don't want to lose you.
Well - it's off to sleep I go. Hopefully - I'll talk to you - tomorrow?
Please write me back. I need to hear from you.
All my love -
C.
People used to love me. (Friday June 12, 1992. Letter 2.)
Dearest Jim,
I found some more paper - obviously. I had to. I couldn't just send that other letter - especially since you came through and called me! Although you were late - I couldn't have enjoyed talking to you anymore had you been on time. Before your call - I was feeling a little down. I guess I was worried that whatever else you were doing was more important than calling and talking to me. Please excuse me. I was only being selfish. I tend to forget that you have another life. One that doesn't include me. Again - I'm sorry for the way I sounded before. I act so stupid sometimes.
Anyway - I'm really glad you did call - you lifted my spirits 30 stories!! Of course you usually know exactly how to make me feel better. You're too good to me. Thanks.
I love you!
Missing and loving you more every day -
C.
PS You owe me a letter (or two!)
Sorry so short but I only had one point to make.
I found some more paper - obviously. I had to. I couldn't just send that other letter - especially since you came through and called me! Although you were late - I couldn't have enjoyed talking to you anymore had you been on time. Before your call - I was feeling a little down. I guess I was worried that whatever else you were doing was more important than calling and talking to me. Please excuse me. I was only being selfish. I tend to forget that you have another life. One that doesn't include me. Again - I'm sorry for the way I sounded before. I act so stupid sometimes.
Anyway - I'm really glad you did call - you lifted my spirits 30 stories!! Of course you usually know exactly how to make me feel better. You're too good to me. Thanks.
I love you!
Missing and loving you more every day -
C.
PS You owe me a letter (or two!)
Sorry so short but I only had one point to make.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
People used to love me. (June 12, 1992. Letter 1.)
(A total of 4 leters came in the same envelope. This is number one.)
Dearest Jim,
It's now 8:20 pm - one hour and twenty minutes later than when you were GOING to call me. I know you probably didn't call because you were busy or some of your friends came over or maybe you just forgot? In any case - I guess my feelings are kinda hurt. (You know how I over-react about things.) I do look so forward to talking to you. Oh well...C'est la vie!?! I hope I'm home when you call next - I know that I won't just sit by the phone waiting for you to call anymore... It's too disappointing. (Yeah, if you believe that, I have some ocean front property for sale in the Sahara desert.)
So, did you get your new car today? I guess you're pretty excited, huh? I know I would be. I hope you're happy with it. Maybe now you could come and see me and see how life is here for me in Kentucky? Of course I'm teasing - I know you'll probably never come here. As for my car - hopefully it's ok. I'm supposed to go to Rob's tomorrow to see what it needs now. I hope it's in good enough condition to just get me to you - since getting back to you is my only priority. I just can't wait for you to hold me again. I miss you so much.
You are still waiting for me - aren't you? Although I couldn't blame you for being with someone else - I know my heart would literally break. You are the love of my life. Although I don't act it all the time (namely - when I was down last) I'm VERY happy being the love of your life. I am the love of your life - aren't I? You know, I could never settle for anything less!?!
Anyway - I'm now ending this stupid letter. I can't seem to think straight (whatever in the hell is straight??) anymore. But (never start a sentence with a preposition!) before I go, I have to explain about the troll in my box for you. Sure - there's other things (like) the bear (I wanted to let you know that I [we] truly consider you to be our family. That's the reason for it - although yes you could have figured that out by it's T-shirt). Of course, the pic's to remind you of us wrecking your house for 4 days. The picture of you and I is to remind you of how we are supposed to look at all times! (That's why I framed it.) But (uh-oh not again) the troll - you must take it out of the box and put it in the bed with you (my side or on top of you, of course). Then you must kiss it and tell it "I love you, C - goodnight" every night. Hopefully this green-eyed, PJ clad troll will somehow keep (with it's special magic - but you must believe!) you safe and in love with me until I can get back home to take care of you myself. Even though this seems childish and silly, my intentions were good - just the same.
PS Sorry about writing on the edges - I ran out of paper. Also - sorry the handwriting is so messy. I just can't seem to write anymore. Period. Anyway - sorry. I'll do better next time, hopefully!
I LOVE YOU! I MISS YOU!!
Yours forever (for real!),
C.
Dearest Jim,
It's now 8:20 pm - one hour and twenty minutes later than when you were GOING to call me. I know you probably didn't call because you were busy or some of your friends came over or maybe you just forgot? In any case - I guess my feelings are kinda hurt. (You know how I over-react about things.) I do look so forward to talking to you. Oh well...C'est la vie!?! I hope I'm home when you call next - I know that I won't just sit by the phone waiting for you to call anymore... It's too disappointing. (Yeah, if you believe that, I have some ocean front property for sale in the Sahara desert.)
So, did you get your new car today? I guess you're pretty excited, huh? I know I would be. I hope you're happy with it. Maybe now you could come and see me and see how life is here for me in Kentucky? Of course I'm teasing - I know you'll probably never come here. As for my car - hopefully it's ok. I'm supposed to go to Rob's tomorrow to see what it needs now. I hope it's in good enough condition to just get me to you - since getting back to you is my only priority. I just can't wait for you to hold me again. I miss you so much.
You are still waiting for me - aren't you? Although I couldn't blame you for being with someone else - I know my heart would literally break. You are the love of my life. Although I don't act it all the time (namely - when I was down last) I'm VERY happy being the love of your life. I am the love of your life - aren't I? You know, I could never settle for anything less!?!
Anyway - I'm now ending this stupid letter. I can't seem to think straight (whatever in the hell is straight??) anymore. But (never start a sentence with a preposition!) before I go, I have to explain about the troll in my box for you. Sure - there's other things (like) the bear (I wanted to let you know that I [we] truly consider you to be our family. That's the reason for it - although yes you could have figured that out by it's T-shirt). Of course, the pic's to remind you of us wrecking your house for 4 days. The picture of you and I is to remind you of how we are supposed to look at all times! (That's why I framed it.) But (uh-oh not again) the troll - you must take it out of the box and put it in the bed with you (my side or on top of you, of course). Then you must kiss it and tell it "I love you, C - goodnight" every night. Hopefully this green-eyed, PJ clad troll will somehow keep (with it's special magic - but you must believe!) you safe and in love with me until I can get back home to take care of you myself. Even though this seems childish and silly, my intentions were good - just the same.
PS Sorry about writing on the edges - I ran out of paper. Also - sorry the handwriting is so messy. I just can't seem to write anymore. Period. Anyway - sorry. I'll do better next time, hopefully!
I LOVE YOU! I MISS YOU!!
Yours forever (for real!),
C.
The trip to Chapel Hill.
I made the trip to Chapel Hill today. Several tests were conducted, and I received some good and not-so-good news.
This is the jam I brought with me:
"Especially for You." The Smithereens.
"Meat is Murder." The Smiths.
"Marquee Moon." Television.
"Le Tegre." Le Tegre.
"The Seeds of Love." Tears For Fears.
"Wave." Patti Smith Group.
I only got around to listening to the first 3. The title track of the Smiths CD is almost enough to make me consider vegetarianism. Almost...
This is the jam I brought with me:
"Especially for You." The Smithereens.
"Meat is Murder." The Smiths.
"Marquee Moon." Television.
"Le Tegre." Le Tegre.
"The Seeds of Love." Tears For Fears.
"Wave." Patti Smith Group.
I only got around to listening to the first 3. The title track of the Smiths CD is almost enough to make me consider vegetarianism. Almost...
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Umm... a note by my ex-wife. (80s)
(This must have been just before we separated. It was a crazy, mixed-up time for both of us. This note makes me sad.
"Mim" was a nick-name that only my ex used. She also had one, that only I used. "EEVEN" is kind of a joke from the steakhouse, where we both worked.)
This is great! I'm home alone doing whatever I want to do. Nothing to do but what I wanted to do. No one to worry about. I could get used to this. In a warm house, cooking something good for my husband when he gets home from work. I think I want to be a regular ordinary housewife. I know that's not possible, but tonight has been so good, having some time to myself and cleaning a little. I think this is what I needed, just to be by myself. I do miss my Mim, but I know he'll be home soon.
Ok, I've had enough time alone. Jimmi please come home. I won't fuss about anything. We can get along I know it. Life is so strange. We want to separate, but we (or at least I) want and need each other. I miss him. It's 11:30, now please come home, please.
I want to be young and care free. I want friends. Friends to go places with and have a good time. There's no way any boy would like me, but that's not EEVEN what I want. I want to just have a good time. I want to travel alone. I also want to maybe just hitch to somewhere, where no one knows me, so I can start my life over. If I would not miss Jimmi and if he wouldn't worry about me, I would just leave. Sometimes I would just like to leave and not say anything to anyone.
Come home Jimmi!!!
"Mim" was a nick-name that only my ex used. She also had one, that only I used. "EEVEN" is kind of a joke from the steakhouse, where we both worked.)
This is great! I'm home alone doing whatever I want to do. Nothing to do but what I wanted to do. No one to worry about. I could get used to this. In a warm house, cooking something good for my husband when he gets home from work. I think I want to be a regular ordinary housewife. I know that's not possible, but tonight has been so good, having some time to myself and cleaning a little. I think this is what I needed, just to be by myself. I do miss my Mim, but I know he'll be home soon.
Ok, I've had enough time alone. Jimmi please come home. I won't fuss about anything. We can get along I know it. Life is so strange. We want to separate, but we (or at least I) want and need each other. I miss him. It's 11:30, now please come home, please.
I want to be young and care free. I want friends. Friends to go places with and have a good time. There's no way any boy would like me, but that's not EEVEN what I want. I want to just have a good time. I want to travel alone. I also want to maybe just hitch to somewhere, where no one knows me, so I can start my life over. If I would not miss Jimmi and if he wouldn't worry about me, I would just leave. Sometimes I would just like to leave and not say anything to anyone.
Come home Jimmi!!!
People used to love me. (1981)
This is just a small note to let you know how much I love you!
Thank you for the most bestest Christmas I ever had in my whole life.
I would have drawn you a Christmas picture but I can't draw anything but rabbits.
Love,
B.
12/25/81
Thank you for the most bestest Christmas I ever had in my whole life.
I would have drawn you a Christmas picture but I can't draw anything but rabbits.
Love,
B.
12/25/81
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