i have found so many places to go. places to hide. no longer no more.
think of me. who wrote that? sounds carole kingish.
guess its called "hello its me" and the lyrics follow. with the risk of becoming a teen blog cliche (like my life aint already) , here fucking goes:
Hello, it's me
I've thought about us for a long, long time
Maybe I think too much but something's wrong
There's something here that doesn't last too long
Maybe I shouldn't think of you as mine
Seeing you
Or seeing anything as much as I do you
I take for granted that you're always there
I take for granted that you just don't care
Sometimes I can't help seeing all the way through
It's important to me
That you know you are free
'Cause I never want to make you change for me
Think of me
You know that I'd be with you if I could
I'll come around to see you once in a while
Or if I ever need a reason to smile
And spend the night if you think I should
It's important to me
That you know you are free
'Cause I never want to make you change for me
Think of me
You know that I'd be with you if I could
I'll come around to see you once in a while
Or if I ever need a reason to smile
And spend the night if you think I should
Think of me...
Think of me...
Think of me
Funny the Rungren actually wrote the song after he became obsessed with King. Guess its a pretty good knockoff.
I knew when I heard the song at 10 this guy was on to something. He still says it better than I ever could. I'm gonna cover this shit one day.
Til then, here goes:
I love you whether or not you love me
I love you even if you think I don’t
Sometimes I find you doubt my love for you
But I don’t mind
Why should I mind, Why should I mind
What is love anyway, does anybody Love anybody anyway
What is love anyway, does anybody Love anybody anyway
Can anybody love anyone so much that they will never fear
Never worry never be sad
The answer is they cannot love this much nobody can
This is why I don’t mind you doubting
What is love anyway, does anybody Love anybody anyway
What is love anyway, does anybody Love anybody anyway
And maybe love is letting people be just what they want to be
The door always must be left unlocked
To love when circumstance may lead someone away from you
And not to spend the time just doubting
Pies. I love pie. I have been making pies all week. Savory, fruit, cream. Tonight, a Chicken Pot Pie.
Marinated Sauteed Chicken.... Carrots, celery, mushroom, peas... Mushroom reduction with cream...Pastry, homemade... served with Rosemary Garlic Whipped potatoes and Sage gravy. I made all of this from scratch. Last week, I made fresh peach pies, peaches tart, seasoned with cinnamon, honey, brown sugar, and nutmeg, baked in a buttery crust. Next time, I'll make another pie for our feasts.
I have the pleasure of cooking for 12 or so every once in a while, friends and their friends, all clean, healthy, and happy. We eat. We dont drink. We dont get high. We dine well, talk, sing, laugh, watch movies, and smoke cigarrettes. We smoke alot of cigarrettes.
We attend NA and AA meetings, we fellowship. We support our recovery. We resocialize ourselves to clean living. We have fun. I have done things lately that I love sober. I see how crap dope is, how limiting, how degrading. We play scrabble every night. We are friends, both kind and strong. He can build. He paints houses, I paint watercolors for him. For me. We wax poetic. We yawn and sing Sinatra to the moon. We smoke cigarettes at night.
12 steps. So cultish, but it works. It is clear what a mess my life has become, and these steps are helping me rebuild. Slowing me down. Teaching me patience. Putting the past down. So much deadweght, so much to carry. No more.
Pies. Sobriety. Absinthe. Colonic cleansing. All of this in my head and more. Songs. Got a letter from a friend making amends. I love him.
Friends waiting for me. Waiting on land, looking out to the torrid sea, looking for me. Someone left the light on. Someone knew I was coming home.
The baby is halfway to three, and how he loves me. "Shondi Shondi Shondeeee" he says to me. We play Choo Choo and tickle-monster. He missed me. He was looking for me.
Band men, musicians all, looking for me. Talented, bad assed, fine Shondi. The chick with the bass, me. Still wondering what could be. They waited for me.
Playing in the park. Get home before dark.
The pain has left a stain. You have left your Mark.
Youngest son, what do you call fun?
Fuck everything and run?
Russian rouIlette with a toy gun?
I'm a brave one, me.
No chains nor claims on me.
I play this game strategically.
Fatally? Why, naturally!
What have we learned, now that its all said and done?
Me:0
You:1
I guess you won. Playing with you ain't much fun.
.... now the rain is gone....
I have been clean and sober for a few weeks now and I love it.. again.
Amazing at the beauty we miss when we are hiding.
Today, I spent time in Half Moon Bay. I went rock climbing over the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean.
I thank God for another day, the San Francisco Bay, and a better way.
It doesn't take much to be happy. Just be.
Namaste
... yeah, yeah, yeah.
And many miles away, no one really cares.
Many miles away, she sleeps and dreams of dancing in churches for you.
Many miles away, cocaine keeps her tears away.
Many miles away, her night became her day.
Many miles away, a broken heart.
Many miles away, he has nothing to say.
I've been using heavily since November and I don't think drugs have helped. I am going back into treatment. Of some sort. Music. Food. Sleep. Me.
Many miles away. Some days too many. Today, not enough. Cowards make for the worst sort of lover.
Geez, I remember 1999 this time of year. Y2K.... Muffin's Coffee Shop in the TL, where my soon to be husband and I stopped for some 211. Walking from the TL all way up the Haight. Meeting Twiga and his Amazing Technicolor Sweater rolling a 5 in joint.... dancing the year in with one of Clive's Triplets... Paul Moran snapping pics of girl's asses... That was a fun year, I guess because I started it right.
I am still married. I found out that I can petition to be a British Citizen, since I've been married to one for so long. If I ever decide to live there, sure that may be something to do. The best benefits aren't in becoming British (sure, I could start speaking with some fake ass English affectation like Madonna, or have babies with some pretty boy prep school punk "musician" like that Gwen Stephani chick.... name my sons "Turk" and "Eddy"..... fuck that dude, he looks like he's never lost a fucking tooth.... not my cuppa earl grey at all....). The benefit would be in buying property and being able to move freely through the EU. Sure, England has Silk Cut, Viz, and Orange Club... and thugs, yum.. BUT I like Germany right now. And I still want a house in Wales- one of last places no one wants to be- great for property. Scotland even appeals to me right now. I'll see soon enough. There is enough witchery, ley line, and crop circle type shit to get me to England, though.
So, that goes on my list.
1. Operation Posh Spice
Lets see.... gotta stay clean. Drugs are not fun nor funny anymore.
2. Say Nope to Dope, Ugh to Drugs
Get my body in shape. I realize I'm holding up well, but I am in my mid thirties..... got to trim up and buff up. I cant use dope to stay thin, so I gotta start working out and dancing again. I may even start boxing or weights. I want to be defined and lean. Strong. Good looking. I want a man, and I aint gonna get one being toe up. What kinda trophy wife looks beat? Yes, trophy. I didnt say that was all, but one aspect, yeah. Sure.
3. Dress that Mutton like Lamb
Money... money.... time to get the hustle tight. Use my resources to their fullest as a stepping stone. While my income is limited, that limitation keeps me out of debt. Beff up the savings and investments bit by bit by bit... I should be feeling ok financially by 40. I will if I keep focused especially now. That brings me to
4. Do the Hustle!
Lastly, I must nourish my spirit. Touch the God in me. Feel it again. I must wash myself in the river deep, the waters wide, that great tide... lawd, somebody help me..... Gotta praise, baby, gotta give it up tp the most high.
5. Jesus IS Just Alright ..... OH YEAH!
And this goes out to my brother, S Malcolm. I love you and I owe you. Thank you for being my lil brother and my friend. I'll be there in October. Your sis, S. Angela.
Man, one thing my mom was good at, what made her a great mother, was how she woke us kids up in the mornings. At least for me, Ithat was to be appreciated, for one way to provoke extreme violence in me... disturb my sweet dreams by waking me up with anything less than finesse.
On Mondays, she'd sing, "Shon-day, Shon-day, don't like Mon-daaaaaay" to the tune of the Monkees "Mary Mary". Tune.
Summer season, she's wake us to Crepe Suzzette... homemade crepes, heaping fresh strawberries and whipped cream, nonetheless. Tops.
High school, once I started driving myself to school, she'd wake me when I was late, and leave me with a "fine, let yer' ass be late then" when I would'nt get up. Mind you, that led to first semester 11th grade with about 70 tardies. However, that was indeed my ass.... I had to stay afterchool or go sit in that dank den we called "Peer Hall" (or detention).
My favorite, bestest ever, was her waking me to her playing the song "Dream Merchant" as recorded by New Birth. Man, that song is so soulful, so sweet, so deep, I'd continue to dream, that song serving as a soundtrack, and awaken as a goddess fallen from heaven down to my French Provencal fluffy bed. That my mother would be so observant and know how that song moved me, that she would be so thoughtful and so sweet, still warms me. Thats the stuff that dreams are really made of... growing up with someone so kind, someone that loved and so spoiled me.
I think of this because I had a morning- a significant morning- like that. I had a dream, and was allowed to awaken softly from the dream, almost expecting her smiling face peeking into my room. I love my mama for that, Her smile, her tiny rosy apple-cheeked smile with her big pretty teeth, serenading me from a restful sleep. Back to this dream...
Ok, let me list a significant points so I don't forget:
-Taking a class with Paul M. Class involved flying; back of the plane, he styling my hair gently, accenting the style with pearls; Redondo Beach
-Ex expatriate fool at a bar in Redondo Beach, thinking that I believe he is out of the country; making Paul promise not to tell him I know the truth, that I would rather he think things as they are so that he won't contact me
-Me happily accepting the reputation of the nut. No anger at the situation, in fact, a feeling of peace at cleverly ending the ongoing saga with said fool.
The pearls were placed lovingly. I believe they may stand for the pearls of wisdom that he may soon impart to me.
I would not be surprised if the dream fortells some truth in regards to the fool; all past dreams of the fool have. He may have wondered how I knew what I knew without his telling me. I always would dream of what he was doing. I even contacted him when I had a dream of him in danger. Shortly after, he was robbed at gunpoint. Again, this I already knew.
This documents and dates the prophesy... lets see if the dream comes true.
Til then, I gotta download some old soul tunes... that New Birth jam is calling me.
Who do you want to be caught under the mistletoe with this holiday season?
Submitted by An Ebony Epicurean.
- some random hot stranger
- two random hot strangers
I am going back east. I am moving to Berkeley.
So it is Christmas, the pennacle of my season of depression. For as long as I can recall, I have been down from Thanksgiving til Martin Luther's Birthday.... this year I think I really have something to be sad about. Luckily time heals, and I still have plenty of that...
