I am literally charing my batteries
Do you know the warm progress under the stars?
Do you know we exist?
Have you forgotten the keys to the kingdom?
Have you been born yet & are you alive?
Let’s reinvent the gods, all the myths of the ages
Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests
“I never left.”
My favorite Rolling Stone cover
As much as I want to share details of my weekend, I cannot regarding most of it being that it was rather XXX-Rated and I am not comfortable with a lot of people reading that part of my life, as much as an open book as it is. It was quite intense and just might be included in my autobio.
Thursday and Friday early morning and afternoon were spent running errands all over the north-side. It was exhausting but much needed.
Thursday night Morgan Russell came over w/ a nice bottle of infused vodka. I’ve missed her company when we can share one on one chit chat. It had been awhile and it was quite enjoyable. She left while Craig Ferguson was on.
Friday afternoon I got a surprise phone call as I was wrapping up gathering supplies for my evening, and ended up meeting a former lover for margaritas and tequila shots. She’s as beautiful and chatty as ever. Funny how her voice carries in a restaurant and attracts the attention of fellow patrons. Sitting and talking w/ her for a few hours I realized it was the first time that I hadn’t still felt head over heels about her. Something that for me needed to fade so I could begin to heal. I knew that afternoon, that I had, though I hadn’t realized it prior. The psychic bond is still strong there though.
I showered and then my baby came in the back door. She’s my Back Door Girl for sure. It wasn’t long before the games had begun and went very late into the night. Sangria, frozen fruit, ice cubes, Twizlers and a trail of clothes to my room had replaced the fact that we had skipped watching The Girlfriend Experience which I had rented earlier that day.
Luckily we did because the movie was extremely boring as I watched it early the next day since I had left my phone somewhere earlier and was out of pocket all day. I need to make sure from now on more people know my home office number as I haven’t been having the best of luck when it comes to cell phone as of late.
I dragged myself back out and returned that horrible film that went nowhere and decided to get Quantum of Solace the latest in the James Bond films w/ Daniel Craig who is wining me over as my fave 007 next to Pierce Brosnon. I love the vengeful side of 007, still feeling the pain of his only love and the betrayal of Vesper Lynd.
Late that evening I was reunited with my focus of affection and we watched most of Tombstone before getting a very much needed night of sleep.
We worked together in my kitchen preparing a breakfast feast which we enjoyed on the back deck under the bright sun. Outside not caring who was watching she wrapped her arms around me and kissed endlessly. I think in the 3 years that I’ve lived here that may have been a first.
She wrote on her blog a more detailed recollection of the hot pepper incident and at the same time is killing me with her openness about what we’re like together. Oh and I thank her too. More than she knows. How I appreciate her talents.
Tomorrow we’ll share the full moon together. I look very much forward to the magic that will occur as the moon rises over the Eastern sky. And I’ll shoot some photos of her and they will be here as well as on www.ultravixxxens.com
Last night I took a call from my dear friend Dawn. She was reaching out and needed a friend to talk to, so I made myself available. I saw that she had been trying to reach me. I was blind as I could not find my glasses and didn’t till I found them under my bed just a few hours ago. At least I had possession of my phone again. And before I tried to go to sleep, which was frustrating, I called Jennifer in Walker Louisiana and we finally talked about an unpleasant episode that occurred a month ago. It was a much needed thing. I had missed her voice and she wrote to me a few weeks ago that she missed my drunk dials. The drama in her circle is pathetic. She is a woman that doesn’t deserve how she’s being treated and I so wish she didn’t have to go through this constantly. And I had become a victim of the drama myself, again. As I had mentioned here a few weeks back, I am rather thick skinned, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel and hurt deeply. Now that we’ve closure the pain has finally diminished.
What will today bring? I did extend a drunken invite to a friend to visit the beach and bird sanctuary today but somehow don’t think it will be accepted. But its early an one never nows just what may happen.
Wolf Moon lyrics by Peter Steele
The 28th day
She’ll be bleeding again
And in lupine ways
We’ll alleviate the pain
Unholy water
Sanguine addiction
Those silver bullets
A last blood benediction
It is her moon time
When there’s iron in the air
A rusted essence
Woman may I know you’re there
Hey wolf moon
Come cast your spell on me
Hey wolf moon
Come cast your spell on me
Don’t spill a drop dear
Let me kiss the curse away
Yourself in my mouth
Will you leave me with your taste?
Beware
The woods at night
Beware
The lunar light
So in this gray haze
We’ll be meating again
And on that great day
I will tease you all the same
Why do they call it the walk of shame? I first heard this as a fellow co-worker from the club saw me walking to a bus in Pittsburgh, 6 AM-ish and as disheveled as I certainly must have appeared, I was a man without shame.
I see it a lot from my back deck as I’m outback in the summers, 6 AM sipping hot java, ladies leaving apartments as their girlfriends wait for them in parking lots outside. Why shame?
I sit here this morning, unable to sleep, visions of a young lady dance in my brain, and it was not even 24 hours ago, I did the so-called, “walk”. The only thing I felt shame about on the bus was that I was covered in cat hair and had not yet showered, but that fact that I had a toothbrush and toothpaste as well as a comb in tow, it wasn’t quite as bad as it could have been.
A walk of shame, indeed not, as I did harbor a touch of pride.
That’s where my head is at 454 AM this morning. Back to bed.
I am in more dire need of a massage than any white man on the face of the earth.
The lovely Miss Moon had agreed to join m for a show Saturday night at Hoghead McDunnas by the Legendary Rockstars an amazing local cover band that is as entertaining as my friends I LOVE RICH.I cannot begin to praise this band enough. As they are players, very entertaining and chock full of shtick.
But prior to the show she had secured a lil “pre-game” libations. Oh, this lady and her tequila. We shared a few drinks and Kelly Duncan came by w/ an ultraviXXXens shirt that I gave to Morgana and she gave us a lift to the bar.
Beer was free from 830-930 and we took full advantage of that as we waited for the Legendary Rockstars to tear into their set which we enjoyed greatly. And then it was off to the red line during which we walked passed countless drunken DePaul students completely acting like idiots. I’m certain their parents are proud. We stopped at Dominicks to pick up some vodka and the clerk was a complete jerk to us. How this guy has a job escapes me.
The rest of the evening was full of good music and cheer. And being I had to be in church early on Sunday to partake in the ritualistic communion, I felt I had many sins of which to confess. I asked the father if I could be cleansed of my sins and he replied, “There’s not enough Holy Water in the world.”
Sunday was intense and pleasant and on Monday she returned early to join me at the beach.
Now I am aching, sunburned and exhausted. Was it worth it. Of course.
But I do need a massage.
Rica Rockitt
I learned the British definition of “fanny” late last night.
It’s only Thursday and I feel another hot weekend approaching. It’s been a rather low-key week with the exception of doing laundry in a nice big Laundromat with fans that weren’t running and no A/C on with the doors open when it was over 90 degrees outside. And a couple of hours at Risque where I learned that the asshole hipster that cut me off and overcharged me back in June had been fired for stealing HAHA. Who would have guessed.
I have no real plan at all for the weekend. I’m teetering on inviting an acquaintance in, and and pretty sure I’ll accept Rica Rockitt’s invite to see one of her bands, The Legendary Rockstars play over on Fullerton Saturday night. Rica is the stage name of Erica Coriglione who I met through a friend Keith at the last Cult show, House of Blues last autumn. She was also in The Blisters.
Other than that I just need a lil quiet decadence, depravity and debauchery keeping it to a low roar, or muffled passion if it’s in the cards. Maybe I should reference that Magic 8 Ball again.
Today I train downtown and then north to Highland Park to wrap up some business. Not looking forward to the commute honestly but will do my best to avoid rush hour on the Brown and Red Lines. Guess the only way to avoid a Belmont Transfer is to transfer at Fulerton.
Belmont Transfer
The Belmont Transfer is a sexual move named after the Belmont “L” train station on the north side of Chicago that has a free transfer between the Red and Brown lines. It is a metaphor for switching from vaginal sex to anal sex, also known as “switching from the Red line to the Brown line.”
Matt: “I took home some random girl from the bar last night”
Sean: “Nice! Did you pull the Belmont Transfer?”
Matt: “Damn straight kid!”
This message is what I woke up to earlier, and sometimes, it’s just the nice things people say, that help start the day of right.
Alex, why would I look down on you for what you do? You seem like a great guy and I’m sure Nessa wouldn’t be your friend if you were anything less than that.
So let’s get off this me stuff and just say. I think your funny, cool, and as far as I know a great guy.
Nice not to be judged.
When did things suddenly get boring? Could it have something to do w/ responsibly attempting to allocate my funds? -az
A chorus of “Boo” is one of the saddest sounds in live music. Nothing is more depressing then an angry crowd that have been standing around “4 hours” waiting for the band they love. Sadly this was the case Thursday night at the Congress, before Dirty Projectors or Devo took the stage. Have no fear, the sweet sounds of Devo saved the day in the end, but things were off to a rocky start. - Review: Devo and Dirty Projectors @ The Congress, 8/5
Actually it was 4 hours, I know, I suffered through it and so did Dale. More on that coming up.
No New Tale to Tell:
There has not been anything newsworthy in music to write about for over a week, but I thought this was a funny news release I read just this morning.
Variety reports that Warner Bros. Pictures has hired Michael Goldenberg (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix) to write the screenplay for Green Lantern 2. The first film is scheduled to hit 3D and 2D theaters on June 17, 2011.
Greg Berlanti, Michael Green and Marc Guggenheim were previously hired to write a treatment for the sequel that would have Ryan Reynolds return as the DC Comics superhero who’s part of the Green Lantern Corps.
Filming just wrapped in New Orleans, Louisiana on the Martin Campbell-directed movie, produced by Donald De Line.
Now, what if this movie bombs, which I think will. I mean come on, this hero is almost as bad as Superman. He has a ring. WOW! No really, I never liked the comic and the idea of a movie, at least to me is even worse. How can you begin writing a script for a sequel to a movie a year before the first film is set to be released?
This morning there were a couple good rock stories to post and quite a few porn bits. So, feeling inspired here we go w/ DODM:
Recovery:
I was sick from Tuesday morning till Thursday night. I had raging heartburn the weekend while my brother was here and we tore up Wild West Town. I should have taken Prilosec, but was on Zantec and a few of those others that don’t help me much at all. But being on an ultralow budget, my choices were very limited.
Between late nights w/ a pleasantly beautiful and uber erotic haus guest that I find myself unable to resist, hard drinking, sleep deprivation and who knows what else I succumbed to whatever bug is making it’s rounds in the mid-west this hot, humid and rainy summer which is more akin to Louisiana weather than Chicago. Initially I believed I had mono, because the symptoms seemed to have matched up. But as I may have mentioned to some of you at some point, if it was mono, at the time I claimed that it was worth it. And in a naughty way, indeed, I would still claim that.
My temptress returned briefly after her work in a garden, which I learned she does on a regular basis, and rang me up to pop in for a minute that early evening. I was ill, and I relayed that, since I wasn’t much fun at all. She brought me a gift of bell and jalapeno peppers and some fresh basil. To me that says a lot right there about her inner beauty. And a gesture I’m not accustomed to in my current life. And as quickly as she had arrived, she disappeared.
For the next few days I lived laying dead-like in my bed or on the sofa. I couldn’t eat, and I had been vomiting, and sweating in an inferno of fever. I was too miserable to even come to my computer. I nursed my cat Wolfgang 2x a day w/ antibiotics and tried to share as much of our downtime as possible. He had finally grown used to manipulating the cone around his neck to where he could eat and drink. And other than wanting to scratch at his ear, he was coming back into his old self. Sleeping in bed w/ me and laying across my chest which for 11 years had been his favorite place.
All this while I was hoping to be better in time to see DEVO that Thursday night. And when Thursday morning came around though I wasn’t 100%, I was more alive than I had been in days, still w/ no appetite. That afternoon, Dale arrived from Cedar Rapids
De-Evolution
All afternoon Dale had been saying he wanted to get to the Congress Theatre at 7. The doors weren’t till 730, and there were 5 DJ’s and an opening band on the slate, none of which I KNEW would appeal to either of us. We were on he guest list and had photo access verified, and I was still weak and didn’t want to stand around in the Hot August nigh heat of the Congress Theatre. But Dale was insistent, claiming he firmly believed DEVO would go on first and then the thing would metamorphis into a rave of sorts. I disagreed and said we should go later and that it’d be a waste of time. But he was firm, and I was firm, and by 7 I was tired of him telling me, “lets go”. that I said fuck it, we’ll fucking go.
We arrived much to early to exactly what I do my best in life to avoid, because it’s my freedom of choice and I can. After parking we arrive at Will Call and get out VIP wrist bands and photos pass and followed a couple thousand hipsters into the Congress. WTF! Why were there so many dirty fucking hipsters at this place. Especially for an ultra modern new wave legend the likes of DEVO?
hipster (from urban dictonary)
Hipsters are a subculture of men and women typically in their 20’s and 30’s that value independent thinking, counter-culture, progressive politics, an appreciation of art and indie-rock, creativity, intelligence, and witty banter. The greatest concentrations of hipsters can be found living in the Williamsburg, Wicker Park, and Mission District neighborhoods of major cosmopolitan centers such as New York, Chicago, and San Francisco respectively.
Although “hipsterism” is really a state of mind,it is also often intertwined with distinct fashion sensibilities. Hipsters reject the culturally-ignorant attitudes of mainstream consumers, and are often be seen wearing vintage and thrift store inspired fashions, tight-fitting jeans, old-school sneakers, and sometimes thick rimmed glasses. Both hipster men and women sport similar androgynous hair styles that include combinations of messy shag cuts and asymmetric side-swept bangs. Such styles are often associated with the work of creative stylists at urban salons, and are usually too “edgy” for the culturally-sheltered mainstream consumer. The “effortless cool” urban bohemian look of a hipster is exemplified in Urban Outfitters and American Apparel ads which cater towards the hipster demographic. Despite misconceptions based on their aesthetic tastes, hipsters tend to be well educated and often have liberal arts degrees, or degrees in maths and sciences, which also require certain creative analytical thinking abilities. Consequently many hipsters tend to have jobs in the music, art, and fashion industries. It is a myth that most hipsters are unemployed and live off of their parent’s trust funds.
Hipsters shun mainstream societal conventions that apply to dating preferences and traditional “rules” of physical attraction. It is part of the hipster central dogma not to be influenced by mainsream advertising and media, which tends to only promote ethnocentric ideals of beauty. The concepts of androgyny and feminism have influenced hipster culture, where hipster men are often as thin as the women they date. The muscular and athletic all-American male ideal is not seen as attractive by confident and culturally-empowered hipster women who instead view them as symbols of male oppression, sexism, and misogyny. Likewise, culturally-vapid sorority-type girls with fake blond hair, overly tanned skin, and “Britney Spears tube-tops” are not seen as attractive by cultured hipster males who instead see them as symbols of female insecurity, low self-esteem, and lack of cultural intelligence and independent thinking. Hipsters are also very racially open-minded, and the greatest number of interracial couples in any urban environment are typically found within the hipster subculture.
Although hipsters are technically conformists within their own subculture, in comparison to the much larger mainstream mass, they are pioneers and leaders of the latest cultural trends and ideals. For example, the surge of jeans made to look old and worn (i.e. “distressed”), that have become prevalent at stores such as The Gap, American Eagle, Abercrombie and Fitch, and Hollister, were originally paraded by hipsters who shopped in thrift stores years before such clothing items were mass produced and sold to the mainstream consumer. The true irony here is that many of the detractors of hipster culture are in fact unknowingly following a path that hipsters have carved out years before them. This phenomena also applies to music as well, as many bands have become successful and known to mainstream audiences only because hipsters first found and listened to them as early-adopters of new culture. Once certain concepts of fashion and music have reached mainstream audiences, hipsters move on to something new and improved.
I knew as soon as we walked in and heard the echoing boom of the DJ in the lobby and the twin DJ machine onstage who played their horrible music for 3 hours. It was pointless, not to mention, unwanted by the thousand or so DEVO fans inside who waited from 730 for their heroes. And it wasn’t bad enough we all had to suffer through the music, but the self absorbed DJ Zebo taunted the crowd from the mic over and over and over again, to loud boos all about. He was simply nothing more than DJ Jerk because a jerk is exactly what he had become.
Local writer Lisa White summed it up pretty well:
The show was made to sound like an early one, 17+, doors open at 7:30. So it was a surprise when upon entering at 8:30 that local DJ duo Moneypenny were spinning, and for an hour already no less. Although the duo is fun at a bar or smaller club, it was nothing memorable in such a large space, and certainly not for a crowd anxiously waiting for Devo. As the fans waited, another local took the stage, DJ Zebo, and the crowd grew more weary. Perry Farrell sauntered on the stage around 9:30, and didn’t actually DJ like the venue stated, but had a friend of his behind the decks briefly spin Daft Punk and Benny Benassi samples. Farrell taunted the crowd, calling them “old motherfuckers” because they didn’t know the music being spun, and when angry fans yelled at him down front (after waiting at this point for two hours), he flicked them off. DJ Zebo grabbed the decks again, and thankfully helped the situation when he stated to the crowd “You don’t want to hear this type of music anymore, do you?” and switched over to playing The Smiths. The angry mob calmed down a bit, and thankfully at 10:10, the Dirty Projectors finally took to the stage.
Ohhh the Dirty Projectors, a fucking terrible jam band, at least from my perspective, because I just do not like that shit, and I do not ever put myself in the position to, well, up till this night. And I was still a bit ill, sweating and sucking on ice cubes, loaded up on Imodium, and rejecting the fact that my VIP access, permitted me to indulge in free drinks. I did not, choosing ice cubes to cool me off instead.
They were so bad that peope in the row in front of me sat through the set w/ their hands over their ears. How bad is that?
All this couldn’t have been very entertaining to Morgana who popped into my lap through the grueling set of the pseudo hippie jam band I was getting sick all over again to. The music made me more upset than anything, that and the wait and the shitstorm of filthy hipsters and their misplaced irony attitude surrounding me. I expressed my dismay and she commented “stop acting old”, and it wasn’t may age at all becasue these jam bands grew out of that Grateful Dead era which I also favor a rather strong distatse for. I am after all a season music reviewer, and my review of the Dirty Projectors, “Horribly annoying at best.” There you have it. And that’s being kind, believe me.
Devo finally took the stage at 11:30, marching and busting out dance moves as the crowd responded with massive approval. Mark Mothersbaugh takes over, a seasoned frontman, and its clear that this is a band that knows how to entertain. Younger bands take a lesson and see Devo live; this is entertainment. With catchy riffs and hooks, engaging visuals, and the perfect dash of oddity, you’ve got a perfect recipe for what a good band should be. They start off with a heavy dose of new material off their latest (and excellent) album, Something for Everybody, playing “Don’t Shoot (I’m a Man)” “What We Do” and the single “Fresh.” The single alone made me want to go straight out and buy the new album, a heavy blend of New Wave pop goodness.
They don their energy domes as they go right into favorites “Girl U Want,” “Whip It” and “Uncontrollable Urge,” the die hard Devo fans going completely insane for the classics, and rightfully so. These pop hits still sound fresh and new 20+ years later, a testament to the pop genius of Mothersbaugh. The band plays a space and time themed intro during their costume change, and enter wearing the full Devo jumpsuit look, ripping into “Jocko Homo” as Mothersbaugh spins around stage, ripping off parts of his clothes. The band strips down to the classic black shorts and knee pad look, jumping in unison as a Devo mosh pit (one of my new favorite things) breaks out in front of the stage. For the encore Mothersbaugh wears a giant blue and red energy dome, as the fans stand and salute during the Devo anthem. They play more classic tracks to end the night, starting off with “Freedom of Choice” before ending the night with “Beautiful World,” a video of the oil spill gushing in the gulf behind them, a clear statement on how they feel about the world today. Everyone cheers, Mothersbaugh releases a fanny pack full of bouncy superballs into the crowd, and with a final burst of energy the show is over. Sure, the wait was forever, the venue didn’t handle the booking well at all, but on my way out the door I notice a father and son in full Devo jumpsuit and energy dome outfits, huge grins across their faces, and I know despite everything else, Devo saved the day. Are we not men? No, tonight, we were all Devo.
Well everyone but the wall flowering hipsters.
I bid farewell to the lovely Morgana after Dale hovered about the lobby doing whatever it is he does and we were on our way back to Casa Diablo. I finally felt a need to eat, I made a half wich and went off to bed, and got about 3 hours of sleep before heading off to the Vet w/ Wolfgang.
AZ and Dale VS Animal Rescue League Chicago Ridge Facility
We departed my neighborhood w/ a recovering Wolfgang in tow. As I had previously mentioned he was showing igns of improvment the last 48 hourd and now it was time to return to the Chicago Ridge Facility of the Animal Rescue League to diagnose his ill. 12 days before their s-called “top surgeon” Dr
Narayanan http://www.animalwelfareleague.com showed little if any interest in helping my cat. Instead he gave him 2 shots and me a bottle of oral antibiotics to administer 2 x a day. They also instructed us to clean the ear with Dawn dish liquid. Dale at that time asked if there was not some sort of veterinary cleaning solution to use on Wolfie and we were again told soap and water. It didn’t seem right. Other than selling us a cone for his neck, the “top doc” claimed he could not diagnose the “infection” due to bloody scabs. Well we both agreed that this person, who I refuse to refer to as a man, didn’t care and made no attempt to even pretend. This was after over 3 hours at the clinic.
Fast Forward to Friday Aug 6, 840 AM, I am the second to sign in pre opening. They direct us into another room where we’re followed by a local woman w/ her 2 dogs who were their only to get shots. In the waiting room where we were the initial visit they were seating others. About 45 min as we took our “assigned” seats a lady came in and removed he clip board and 2 hours later we went in to inquire as to why we were still waiting and others were ahead of us, which they shouldn’t have been. We had to make a bit of a stink when we say we were marked off and pretty much, buried. It was about 30 min late that they actually let us in the examination room w/ Wolfgang, where as many physician visits the same, seemed to just be another “holding” area. Finally a young lady, 1 year out of Vet school comes in, asks questions, notices out dissatisfaction w. the previous visit and she takes the cat into the back and returns w/ a verdict, he has a tumor, one which she claims is a very obvious mass.
Well, this was something Dr. “top surgeon” certainly should have noticed, and it doesn’t stop there.
While we were in the exam room, Wolfie was out of the cat caddy and we petted him and he stood tall and rolled around, like the playful cat I’ve enjoyed now over a decade. And after they took him back and diagnosed him, and we put him into the carrier, all should have been well. When finally they came out with more antibiotics, and 3 types of ear cleaning meds. Now it was obvious this is what should have been done 2 weeks earlier. And we made an issue of it and asked to see the director who after Dale insisted, she revealed herself. And she defended the reputation of Dr. Narayanan and his treatment and debated the fact that we were told out in the open to use Dawn dish washing liquid to clean the cats infection. Finally she spoke to the doc, he admitted his original instruction and we were told to schedule a return to have the mass and or ear removed from my Wolfgang. She took $40 of of the bill and they gave us references of other vets that we could follow up with if we chase not to return there. Of course there was no chance of us taking the cat back there.
After a drive though the scenic south-side back into the city where we stopped at a Ukrainian deli for some food, and I reminded Dale there was a sick cat out in his hot van, we returned to mi casa. We returned and I removed Wolfgang, who was now completely unable to stand. A way which he lived out his final 36 hours.
Yup, by midnight Saturday, he was a dead pet, and I was upset. The least these people could have done was told us he was going to die and offer the alternative of putting him to sleep. One which I would have rather accepted than the fact that he suffered his last hours in the horrific manner in which he did.
Hot Hot Hot
After a rather long Friday morning and afternoon, I was looking forward to a return visit from the lovely lady that has been sharing some of her time with me. Now being that I am alluding to where we all know this leads, I at his time have chosen not to mention her by name, first and above all because I believe she appreciates her anonymity, and second of all because she has not given her blessing, This is a habit due to the fact that #1 I respect her and #2 I’ve learned from experience some people just do not want me to mention their name in this record. Shame has nothing to do with it when in fact i am quite proud to say she has chosen to share some of her precious time and talents with AZ. And she is a damned good person, that is smart, well-read and though a bit of a Narcolepsy victim, she is nice to me, and she makes me happy when she’s in my space. Not to mention a helluva lot o fun.
She’s also a performer in the “biz”.
And the latter seems to be something that Dale doesn’t seem to appreciate very much, though he’s chosen not to be vocal about it, he certainly has made no secret of it. Though that irritates me a little bit especially due to the fact that she has showed me nothing but kindness, I don’t fucking care. I like her and will as long as the feeling is mutual.
We spent Friday evening together and collectively trashed my bedroom yet again and she departed early in the day and returned with her cat while her apartment building was being de-buggified wearing a sexy little get up that she was wearing later that day to Lollapalooza. It must have been a long morning because it was around the noon hour that she left again and Dale and I took a walk to the corner, and I popped into the country bar for a minute, before I realized I needed to go back home for a nap. Something I rarely am able to do.
On my way home I ran into Steven who rents my spare room for the time being. He commented with a smile, “you were still going at 430 when I got in.” So I asked “why, what do you mean?” And he made an impersonation on how he claimed it sounded, “he went something like this, bang, thump, hehehahahaha. ” mimicking laughter after the sound fx. I don’t know about you, but to me, thats humorous.
The rest of the day was simply about resting. I couldn’t even muster the energy to go out for ice cream. And I was in bed and asleep at 830 that night. That was till I got a call from my beauty and she asked if she could pop up and crawl into my bed, which she calls comfortable. I happily agreed and unlocked the back doors. Unfortunately I was still awake when she arrived. I wish I could have just woken up to her there. Maybe another time, hint, hint.
Sunday morning I awoke to my sleeping beauty, I bid farewell to Dale and after making breakfast she went along home in the same sexy outfit she had arrived in earlier that day. I had invited her back and got a maybe as a response, and I didn’t think she actually would. And she did, boy oh boy did she ever.
That night it was her, me, Morgan Russell, Brian and Amanda all together. It was fun and we were, or at least I was feeling the affects of the vodka, and later tequila.
The next morning she confessed to finally hearing me talking in my sleep. We went to El Palmar, and then for a long walk and a martini. And that was the last time I saw her.
After being laid up in bed for 3 long days, feverish, on fire with sweating, muscle aches, sore throat, coughing, headache, vomiting, diarrhea, sleeplessness and no appetite I am back among the living. And I’m feeling a need to feel alive.
But for now, off to take care of a sick cat. - az
he’s been with the world
and i’m tired of the soup du jour
he’s been with the world
i wanna end this prophylactic tour
afraid nobody around here
understands my potato
guess i’m only a spudboy
looking for a real tomato - DEVO
There’s an openness, an honesty and a mutual respect for one another I suspect, and that is a rarity, especially in my world. And the desire matches that desire I felt when I first met her just two short weeks ago. That day I knew, I knew she’d be a guest. A kindred spirit at Casa Diablo. A damn good fuck. Pulling no punches, she is very much a giver. In other words, a generous lover. She seems to stop at NOTHING to turn me into a raging ball of untamed endorphins gone rampant.
Without even knowing it she has helped to erase the insults I got from a circle of people I once thought were my friends. And I needed that, so if you rad this, I say thank you. Funny how a man can turn on you when you cannot for the first time, deliver on his request for VIP access. And there is a lot of negativity going on in Zanders world now, financially and depression inspired. And that so-called friend didn’t care about the downward spiral I’ve been enduring.
Her visits, her passion, her openness and he spirit puts a piece of that on the back burner for now.
And I feel like I could steal a car with her and go x country on the lam.
I think it’s fair to say, in fact, that this for many people this thrill can be more fulfilling than the actual end product, assuming that is that the chase is ultimately successful. Falling for someone that you don’t already know has always been risky business, there’s always the danger that this person will fail to live up to your expectations, and sadly this is often the case, in many cases an exciting, high-octane thrill ride ends up crashing and burning in a hail of disappointment. The moral of the story in this case is perhaps that we should learn to value all of our positive experiences in life, that even if you find after all the chasing that your quarry does not taste as sweet as you imagined then hey, at least you had a good run. - ezinearticles.com
Okay, some people do enjoy that, but to me it is a waste of time. Off and on for the last more than a few months I was crushing pretty hard on a lady. And this doesn’t happen to me, because, I don’t allow it to happen. It takes up too much precious time and effort. I only felt in once in my adult life, and that was for a foreign rock band singer, and we all know how I feel about foreign women. I guess maybe my guard was down, I assume that I was attracted more than to her looks but enjoyed her company, which wasn’t too often, as she lives across the country, and she’s just completely different than what I’m used to. I don’t have a type and I don’t enjoying drawing comparisons to multiple women I’ve spent quality time with. And there have been a few.
Sometimes all it takes is an unkind word or statement to wash that all away. And though in this case it didn’t come directly from her, just that fact that the people in her close circle say and think such things about yours truly, and she didn’t come to my defense in any manner, well that says enough to me and was a wake up call, one that I needed, but one that sticks with me to this day because it it was heartless. And yes, I may be thick skinned, but it did hurt my feelings. And that’s something I don’t take too kindly to.
There is no time in life for people like that. Especially not when I have so many great people in my life, kind and caring, and when it comes to the fairer sex, very attractive. People who are more than happy to be happy and share in good times with me.
The woman I speak of was pretty much out of my thoughts over the last few weeks till I came across photos of us this morning. Laughing, and having a good time, as we did in the rare times that we got to see each other. I suppose it would be easy to delete them, but why should I when I can hold onto those good memories. For those few moments when all that mattered was the joy we discovered completely by accident in each others company. So with that, I say, fuck the chase, it’s a waste of time. But then again, to me, so is dating.
That’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it. - az
