(no subject)

i know so many people with great ideas and brilliant writing skills who go on and on and on about nothing. i know everyone types fast and with this instant access to info it seems like a good idea to have everyone on the planet detail all the mundane aspects of their trivial lives or repost surveys and articles that no one reads instead of going out and contributing to a real revolution of ideas.

i notice the trend in white middle-class males mostly. again, really talented, smart writers who just don't apply themselves. i wanna see good fiction and better prose when you tell me how many times your cat shit in the box today.

miss a.
fuck this place (by place i don't mean a city, i mean online where everyone is so fucking hip and famous)
  • Current Music
    silence, baby-fuck yr band


it's all in the sell. the promotion. the bait and trap. the way to a man's heart. it is all about the association, the negative press, the feuds, the publicity stunts, the gossip, seeing and being seen. making the scene. breaking the scene. turning the scene upside down. leaving the party early and coming in late. it is about your brand name. your ability to offend without being offensive. to take enough people off guard that they can't stop paying attention. to milk that fifteen minutes for as much money as possible and ride out your life on the eventual "played doug on three episodes of all my children" epitapht. so many people sell their souls for it. live in tiny boxes all looking the same. they all try to be famous because fame is their idol they worship it like a megachurch emo band make-out session. everyone was born to do amazing things. some end up dead by the time they are born, others succumb to acts of god or acts of man, many fall prey to pride, gluttony, and other sins they tell you about in sunday school. most are lucky enough to realize that no one gets out of here alive, and your number comes up even with the best laid plans. just ask that drunk ass guy barreling towards you while bitching out his wife on the cell phone as he slams right into your: !!!!!! ouch . . .

it doesn't matter what you walk away with. things. stuff. objects infused with memories and meaning. objects purchased on a late night wal-mart binge. things of no consequence to the people who look through your artifacts (or most likely toss them into large garbage bags) when you finally take that black train to final destination (insert religions/anti-religious/spiritual belief/favorite sex and the city episode here).

so many people with more potential then energy. so many people talking loudly with nothing to say. so many people asking the wrong questions of the wrong people in regards to the wrong problems. so many people who debate politics and semantics with the converted rather then actual change the mind of someone outside of their comfort zone.

bands, who do you play to? politicos? who do you speak to? how do you sell yourself? how do you market YOUR game? what are you selling, brother? can you spare a dime, or 10% of that $50,000 a year? how are you changing the world right now? in the shoes you buy? make them. in the car you drive? walk. in the music you play? discover silence. in the music you hate? discover irony. in the critisisms you spew? give an unsolicited comment. in the books you read? try something different. you never know.

i think people, even the best intention, are far too concerned with narrowing their options, rather then broadening their horizens. for my entire life i have lived, breathed, and supported/thrived on music, activism, politics, and reading the best and worst our literary universe has to offer. i have given all i could, been drained and defeated, risen from the ashes more then once, and will always be a huge part of many people's lives, because i was lucky enough to meet them along the way.

but to limit yourself to one place, one time, one source of information, whether that be dogmagtic fundamentalism or agnostic socialism, or anywhere in between, i have never met anyone that was able to survive on absolutes. there is no perfect world. there is no perfect person. there is no one answer, and if there were, we wouldn't even understand the question.

step outside your comfort zone. never be so quick to withdraw support. always be thankful you can lend a hand. stand up for something or you will fall for anything. but don't waste a million hours preaching to your online fans when there are real things you can do to affect people in the day to day. they have nothing to do with survays, or promoting the millionth show your band is playing at (insert applicable venue here), and none of them even have to involve beer. i guess what i am saying is that you don't have to grow up, but you better start figuring out that whole life mess before you wake up 50, balding, and paying a $1200 morgage while you record obscure music in your basement for ten other online geeks. really. people starve, die, suffer, and get abused daily. right next door. honestly, you think you could stop sipping that double latte long enough to reach out to someone who DOESN'T already think you are the best thing ever?

fame whores. fame haters. the infamous blame the famous for the battles they face, and the dead blame the infamous for plotting their fate. we all live in bubbles just waiting to burst. you better prepare cuz your gonna get hurt. there is no way to think of the start or the end, since we are stuck right in the fucking middle again.

miss a.

(no subject)

moving. i have so many anxiety dreams from the many different "get yr shit out now" lifetime living situation dramas. i have been taking my time for many reasons:

1) i am a grown ass (wo)man. i don't have anything to hide from or fear when it comes to my home. my rent is paid, and frankly, the bombs are not dropping around us. i am going to do this right, rather then fill another storage space half with garbage and half with useless crap that the effort to sift through doesn't come with any tangible reward.

2) i am going to transform my folks tuffshed into an art space where i can write, paint, and work without having to live with my father.

3) i am not going to waste any more effort or time or money, since every moving experience i have had usually costs between $5,000 and $7,000 in losses (rent, bills, left behind crap, etc). i am going to save a down payment, buy land, build a house, and die there in fifty years.

miss a.

the times, they are a changin'

While Zoe never actually officially moved into our apartment, she is now safe and secure at my folks house until Robbie and I decide what to do. It is a waiting game. Like every victim of domestic violence, you have to wait out the high levels of tension and emotion and can only prepare yourself for the worst. I am armed. I am ready. I will fight for my home as I have done so many times before. My ownership and stake in it is higher then anyone whose name is on the deed. I have to live there, walk past that door downstairs, either alone or in a group, and hope he is calm and rational enough not to come at me again. I have to hold my breath and hope for sleep while hearing people scream and throw and yell and plead for their lives. I have to, because the police don’t care, the landlord doesn’t care, and I am the one who lives with it. Robbie has endured more then I have. It wasn’t just that we had to spend our time at the Mustang partying it up instead of making a home, it is that in doing so we ensured their success and now we are left with the inability to create a home. It is too far gone, now. There are too many things stacked against us. I feel like my hand is on a trigger, and I am waiting to see who wins the bullet. At least I know it won’t be me this time.

I won’t bring Zoe back near the place, even if things mellow out awhile. I am going to try and do the best I can to get out, do better, and this time, even with the amount of research I did and the years it took to find, I won’t just assume that a community will suit my families needs. I am glad I only tested the waters in that regard. She is lucky to never be treated that way. I am lucky to have never gone through what I hear these people go through. And as I see everyone pretend to be blind, it only allows me to see more clearly, I am the asshole, and I won’t back the fuck down. Never have, never will.

Miss A.

Die on your feet, never live on your knees

fuck this place

like, last night the fashion show was raided by about five very nice officers on party patrol. they had somehow recieved a call from a mysterious bar owner who just happened to need a built in audience to hit up the bar. rather then share the crowd, and allow the inevitable spillover after the fashion show, greed got the best of her again. i didn't rush over to pay another door or try to get past her high and mighty ass, and only ended up there on a fluke to run an errand. funny how easy it is to get people's attention when you have something to offer them (re: free beer, a last minute show), and yet no one would jump in front of the bitch to spare her the bullet (and many people would pay to see it go down). but i understand that there are no other options, and that the likes of a girl hurts, femmebotz, d.a.r.y.l., and a shocking amount of ceres people are the only reason that place even matters. otherwise it would still just be paul tischer bobbing his head in the corner to fucking duran duran and trolling for young dudes.

i digress. the worst part was coming home to what was supposed to be a small gathering of friends and finding our downstairs neighbor blocking their enterence and making everyone uncomfortable, spouting off about the time (state law and after 10pm). this would be one thing if it were not me listening to him beat his wife and kids, scream, yell, break shit, and fuck off in general whenever i happen to be at my house. this would make sense were it not this guy and his family trapped in their house without ever leaving and taking tons of energy to spy and fuck with myself and robbie. anyone who has been to our place knows.

then as i tried to walk up the stairs i somehow made him angry enough to start screaming at me "you wanna make this a problem, bitch, fuck you you fucking whore!" and literally punching the wall with his fist three times. i am not one to scare easily, but this guy went from zero to balls out nuts in like, two seconds flat.

he came up after me and we yelled through the door until he and i finally came to the agreement that we would keep it down, and he would not call me a whore and threaten me. needless to say i was anything but placated, so a trip to ceres calmed me down. nikki g. was with me and would have shanked the fool for sure, which i can't imagine would have made my situation any better.

so with robbie and finally coming to the resolve that we have to get the fuck out sooner rather then later, now i look at this great apartment i searched so hard for, and this place where i have had some great times and had hoped would be a safe place for my daughter, i can't evens stomach going there and am at nessa's waiting it out until daylight because of TONIGHT'ssssssssss incident.

the guy down the hall, screaming ,yelling, breaking, crying, me alone in a dark apartment trapped because i didn't know if it would end up in the stairway again. calls to the police unanswered.scared and upset and smoking the black and milds to the nub hoping i can get my shit packed fast enough not to get killed. they all keep quiet because it only makes it worse, on you, on them,. on everyone. you want to ask them "why with the kids there? why do you both stay if you hate each other so much? why do you have to do this to each other, and your kids?" and i think to myself quietly that it has to get better. i never had to go through that, but so many have. it is depressing and scary and i feel trapped in more ways then one.

i want a home for zoe. i want to protect my family. and to do that i cannot even stay in my own home.

so what happens? will they get removed? no. it would take months of trouble to get them both evicted. it would take tons of going up and down those stairs wondering what you will have to face today and will the camera crew from cops be on hand when it all goes down.

yeah. i need another place to live. on the cheap. and fast.

miss a.

(no subject)

Her father views her life in pictures. Words set to paper his thoughts drift while sifting through piles of memories he never had. Smiles, frowns, ups, downs, gone for every single one yet seeing them for the very first time. How could he forget her, never remember, trust she is o.k., his blood fills her veins, yet to reach out, to speak out, would be merely a whisper, after all.

Fuck you Nicole for dying, leaving me here all alone. Fuck you Ryan, for leaving, leaving us here alone. Fuck everyone for leaving, just when everything gets worse, and fuck me for staying the course, after every single hurt.

I wish I could sit here without tears in my eyes, deny cries, lie through my covered eyes, hiding behind, blessings and tests, forgiving myself, forgiving the rest.

I’m a keeper, a loser, a young one, too old. Please believe me, this is my story, thank fucking God it can be told.

Miss A.

(no subject)

2006. I don't know quite how to sum up last year, and at this stage of the evening/morning there would be no sense in trying to. I have chosen to re-start my "blog" here at livejournal, since myspace has gotten so busy and I would rather have people come find me if they really wish to hear what I say they cna stop by this neck of the woods.

I remember starting this journal. I remember the hope, the innocence. The ups and downs. The evolution, the friendships, the enemies, both real and percieved. We went from the telephone, to the computer bbs system (which helped get in touch with those obscure bands in maximum rock n' roll so they could come play house shows in the middle of nowhere). We went to the high-speed internet accessible cell phones with unlimited text messages that allow entire relationships to unfold in mere minutes before the public eye that is only watching close enough to scruitinize, not legetimize, what you are baring to the world. You are spending so much time creating a persona that instantly comes on as louder, more crowded, and just faces in a massive crowd who you may or may not know, but probably won't get to know based on some survey that chooses what family member of the simpsom's you most resemble and how many close to naked booties you can show all the people you have already or will soon fuck.

i am angry that technology has so much potential to unite, yet we remain geared soley towards the instant gratification of wanting to know/see/be the next big thing w/o know why or even what that is. Fame is transient and status is ever-changing. With all of the connections and communication and information the internet provides, with a little work, and yet people meander for hours trying to comment on as many pages as possible when they just got off the phone with you and only dropped you off at home an hour ago. huh. waste of time when the socialization is almost forced. during really deep, great personal conversations, people hold their finger up so they can take that call from their friend from work about getting some one thing and it takes up enough time to lose your train of thought yet still hate the fact that people can be online, on the phone, and in a group making so many words mean so little.

make your time, your friends, your connections count. don't neglect them because it has become o.k. to be as busy as possible while still doing nothing. everyone take this year to appriciate, value, and spend real-time with (gasp) even the HOUSE phone off the hook. trust me, anything that cannot reach you in person is NOT an emergency.

miss a.
happy new year

my interests, eh?

LJ Interests meme results

  1. books:
    i spent a majority of my only childhood talking to rabbits and reading about ten books a week from the local library. my dad lived at the sf v.a. hospital and reading kept me company in the sad waiting rooms. odd how it still comforts me today.
  2. cloves:
    i was never a smoker. i actually hated the smell of ciggerettes. but cloves smell all warm and nice, and i now smoke them too often. familerity.
  3. drinking:
    i don't know why this is here, since the duck i am pretty non-alkie, but i do like a nice cup of tea.
  4. hayden:
    his songs make me cry
  5. live music:
    the albatross on my shoudler, the amount of bands i have seen live is staggering, the amount of them that rocked my world- twelve.
  6. noise:
    i have to have a fan on when i sleep. white noise. i cannot hear very well in my old age. i will attempt to stop listening so hard.
  7. politics:
    the ideas and conversations generating over a polite policy debate- yes. any real clue as to how the world works or the politics of humanity as a whole, no fucking idea.
  8. shellac:
    how did they get here. you know, i listen to kanye west these days more then shellac, even though i know their rekkids by heart. i guess you just move on.
  9. talking until 6 am:
    i am up at four thirty decorating for a prom event and i turn thirty in jan. what does that say?
  10. turlock:
    i have no interest in turlock, other then my friend jessica lives there, my mom works there, and the heroin there has more then ten people i know strung out for good.

Enter your LJ user name, and 10 interests will be selected from your interest list.

a bit o' words

i guess there are some things that are respectfully left out of the livejournal experience. i have taken a lot more time and patience with living my life rather then describing it in full detail for mostly strangers. that is not to say there isn't something cathartic about doing so, but that lost it's appeal awhile ago. having kept this thing fairly religiouly in some form or another for almost seven years (not to mention stacks of handwritten journals going as far back as second grade), i have been able to look back at myself, my ideas and opinions, my experiences, and see how they have evolved and changed throughout my life. i have had so many people come and go, important people have lived and died in my presence, and i am a greater person because of it.

i have not found religion, just the peace and happiness found in the trivial daily tasks of living alongside an ever-changing, fast paced, intellectual consumerist society that has allowed so much static get in the way of the beauty of life. the sematic debates, dogmatic fundamentalism (not just christian, as we all know punk rockers are the elitest and most judgemental of them all when it comes to what you are/are not allowed to do with your body/mind/art), as well as the hatred and bile that consume so many people, who cherish their anger as a gift rather then recognize it as a liability.

i think that constructive expression of frustration is what art is created out of, but if we do not learn to grow and accept peoples differences, accept their ideas and judgements and beliefs, then we perpetuate the stagnation of humanity.

we allow ourselves to be utterly destroyed by emotional overload. i myself have caved into empathy to the point of trying to change other people's lives in my own image, as if i have better answers, or expert advice, rather then allowing them to experience their ups and downs and learn from mistakes as i have. does that mean mistakes are absent from my life? never, on the path to enlightment i am stumbling and falling and catching my breath in a corner while the party goes on around me. i have no answers.

my close friend, one of very few women i have been open, honest, and trusting with, passed away on october 16, 2005 in her birthplace of bend, oregon, alongside her beautiful daughter cora, and her seven month old son, cain, who was born three months premature but is doing wonderfully thanks to the loving care of his mother. nicole was a close friend, closer through our bond of motherhood. we discussed her being zoe's godmother, a task i had originally given up on after asking lela (not ready), jarred (not able), and robbie and xsavior (who fit the bill, though offically divoved they maintain a good role in her life). i wish i would have told her yes. i wish she would have known how important she was to me. i wish i could tell her how much she helped me realize who i am, and how unimportant superficial things like music taste, clothing, overanalyzing books, and thinking way too much about things that matter very little in the end, when they are playing knocking on heaven's door in a cramped chapel with crying long-lost relatives and uncomfortable silences.

i wish i could have talked to her. we never had a real fight in our entire relationship, often joking that we were the two most unlikely people to be friends, which made us ever closer. she had a rough life. she contributed to helping support and build a girl hurts, as well as wrote a wonderful article for the 8th issue of ceres is hella gay that i will reprint soon as to remember her contributions to our little ceres universe.

i loved her as a friend. i loved her as a sister. her family will always be in my thoughts, and i hope that she rests in peace, and found her place in the sun.

miss a.