Afterglow

Pretty Small Faces tune, one of my faves off of Ogden's Nut Gone Flake (1968)-- the Beatles picked up the melodic riff in this tune for one of the tunes on their Abbey Road (1969) album. You'll recognize it if you hear it -- the Beatles changed it just a teensy bit, but not much...

Afterglow (Of Your Love)

I'm happy just to be with you
And loving you the way I do
It's everything I need to know
Just resting in the afterglow of your...

Love
Love is all around me
Everywhere
Love has come to touch my soul
With someone who really cares
No one can deny us
People who once passed me by
Will turn their heads 'round

I'm happy just to be with you
And loving you the way I do, yeah
It's everything I need to know
Just resting in the afterglow of your love

You
Yes you have always been here
Feeling deep inside
A feeling that I could not see
Or touch, or try to hide
My love is in and around you
I bless the day that I found you
So listen, baby

I'm happy just to be with you
And loving you the way I do, yeah
It's everything I need to know
Just resting in the afterglow of your love

Love is like a voice in my head
Keeps turning 'round the things that we said

I'm happy just to be with you
And loving you the way I do, yeah
It's everything I need to know
Just resting in the afterglow of your love

Ione Skye

Wow, did I ever get bummed out. I was alright this morning, but now I'm sad. I need to get out of this funk, or else use it to make something more interesting than sorrow. Why the hell am I down? I think I'm just feeling lonely today. I hate that feeling. To cheer myself up, I thought I'd post another of my celebrity crushes of old:

Ione Skye, Donovan's daughter, no less! Man, she was ever pretty. And she aged really well. Here she is from her 80s incarnation...



*sigh*

Music: Warlocks, "Baby Blue"

Here and there again

I just ate a slice of blueberry cake. It was quite tasty. I'm listening to Bobby Darin on my iTunes. Today, I wear beige slacks and an off-white button-down shirt, long-sleeved (sleeves rolled up). The very picture of workplace respectability, quietly grooving.

To my left, a stack of manuscripts. Six wait in my inbox. To my right, three more, unclaimed, untouched. They'll just have to wait. Maybe today's not their day. Then again, this is a holiday weekend, since I took Monday off, making it a tidy four-day weekend. Muahaha! So maybe I'll be more industrious than I otherwise would be on a Friday. I used a red pen for the month of June. For July, my choices are:

1. Green
2. Blue
3. Purple

Yeah, I don't use pencils. Just inkpens. When I make a change, there's no going back. I'm thinking July should be blue, but we'll see what I ultimately do. I never know what I'm going to do until I do it.

Tomorrow, I get a haircut -- I know I was going to grow it out longer (for anybody who remembered that post, long ago, or bothered to read it). But I think it's important to get a good cut before growing hair at all longer, or else it'll look like ass, right?

Hope the Americans reading this find their July 4ths to be liberating.

Vesper and Maddy: you both have a great Canada Day, whatever that entails! What do you eat? How do you celebrate such a day? I like to know these things.

And anybody else, well, you all have good weekends, too.

I plan to get a lot of writing done, and to avoid getting ticketed for having a soon-to-be out-of-date parking sticker. I sent the requisite money and forms in to City Hall, but you know bureaucratic inertia. If I get ticketed, I'll be pissed.

Now I'm not quite so happy as I was. Now I'm lonely and sad. Hmph. I probably could use a nap -- felt like I didn't get enough sleep last night.

Quizzical

You Are 88% Gentleman

No doubt about it, you are a total gentleman. You please the pickiest ladies, and you make everyone in a room feel comfortable.

Are You A Gentleman?

Toldja I was smooth. ;)

Your Power Level is: 73%

You're a very powerful person, and you know that all of your power comes from within. Keep on doing what you're doing, and you'll reach your goals.

How Powerful Are You?

Cool. I don't want to keep doing what I'm doing, though; I want to do better. Bigger, better, faster, more! More Blogthings...

How You Are In Love

You take a while to fall in love with someone. Trust takes time. You tend to give more than take in relationships. You tend to get very attached when you're with someone. You want to see your love all the time. You love your partner unconditionally and don't try to make them change. You stay in love for a long time, even if you aren't loved back. When you fall, you fall hard.

How Are You In Love?

That's about right.

You Are 84% Indie

You're so indie, it's kind of amazing that you actually found your way to this quiz. Generally, your tastes are genuinely indie... but sometimes you like something just because it's weird!

How Indie Are You?

Too funny. I'm not a complete Indie Rock Dickhead, for sure.

Your Seduction Style: Fantasy Lover

You know that ideal love that each of us dreams of from childhood? That's you! Not because you posess all of the ideal characteristics, but because you are a savvy shape shifter. You have the uncanny ability to detect someone's particular fantasy... and make it you. You inspire each person to be an idealist and passionate, and you make each moment memorable Even a simple coffee date with you can be the most romantic moment of someone's life By giving your date exactly what he or she desires, you quickly become the ideal lover. Your abilities to make dreams come true is so strong, that you are often the love of many people's lives. Your ex's (and even people you have simply met or been friends with) long to be yours. No doubt you are the one others have dreamed of... your biggest challenge is finding *your* dream lover.

What Kind of Seducer Are You?

Hahah! I think that's true, owing to my actorly instincts and empathy, for sure! I'm not a romantic Zelig, but I do cater to whomever I'm with, while still being "just me." I definitely resonate to who I'm with. Which can be good with good, and bad with bad.

Alright, that's enough of those, lest I go berserk and lay bare my surveyed soul for all to see!

Jinx

Buy me a Coke!

Chase Scene

All that talk of my long-lost Nova made me think about chase scenes...

10 Best Chase Scenes

This is from 2003, so maybe there are some new additions. "The 7-ups" (Roy Scheider movie, 1973) has a 15-minute chase scene that's really over the top, right up there with "Bullitt" and "The French Connection." And, if memory serves (it's been a very long time since I saw it), they had a silver Nova for it.

Flaking Out

I've been listening to the deluxe edition of the Small Faces' "Ogden's Nut Gone Flake" -- the mono version of the album is way better than the stereo remaster of it. I usually don't wax all enthusiastic about mono v. stereo or remasters or whatever, but it's really so much better. And there's a cool disc that has an audio documentary about the album, which is also amusing.

But the sound of the mono -- good lord, is it ever great!

Everybody who likes psychedelic pop, you must get it, you will enjoy it, truly. And, as I said, the mono mix is actually better than the stereo, amazingly enough. I'm amazed, myself.

Free Association, Take 2

(Coda: Impressed by Vesper's more thorough response to this, I thought I'd revisit it a little, move past the one- or two-word comments I originally made, bolded.)

Stolen from JVS's Imitation of Life, some free association, first words that appear in my brain...

1. Newspaper :: Taxis. Beatles' LSD song, "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" -- always liked the weirdness of "Newspaper taxis appear on the shore."

2. Sausage :: Casing. Best not to dwell about the making of sausage, right? What Bismarck said, comparing it to politics. I almost never have it, although I get a craving for Brats usually once a year, quite out of the blue.

3. Handy :: Dandy. I'm not a dandy, although I like to pay attention to what I wear, keep to a relative baseline of sartorial excellence -- of course saying "sartorial excellence" probably makes me suspect, yes? Haha! I do like Mod looks -- the skinny ties and cool suits and all of that. Sharp stuff, though I'm too big a guy to be a proper Mod, even if part of my heart beats Moddish. I have a coworker who's a total Mod and she's always saying we should get scooters and form a Mod gang. I'd love to have a Union Jacket. That would rock. I have a fondness for paisley, too -- just one crazy-ass pattern, that is.

4. Cloak :: and Dagger. The only thing I think about with that is the Marvel comic book characters. Never collected that series, thought Dagger had a cool costume, but she was awfully skinny. The whole black-and-white thing was sort of revolutionary at the time, kinda.

5. Drunk :: Skunk. Haven't been drunk in awhile. Really don't go there much, anymore, compared to my younger self.

6. Fuel :: Oil. Nothing, there. Rising gas prices, a big pain, an urban annoyance. Price-gouging. Bleah.

7. Caress :: Finesse. I'm a touchy-feely fellow. Hands-on, for sure. When I like (or love) a woman, I'm all about caresses, I can't help but touch her -- playful squeezes, hugs, pats on the arm, etc.

8. Itch :: Bitch. I don't bitch about things so much, prefer to just deal with them. If I've got an itch, I scratch it. If you're going to do something, just do it -- nothing I hate worse than when people complain about stuff that bothers them without doing something about them.

9. Vehicle :: Kite. First thing I thought of. I like kites. They're fun and frolicky.



That's that. No real revelations, there, are there? Hmph. Guys aren't very complicated, I think. Or at least I'm not.

Nova

1972 Chevy Nova. My car in high school.

*sigh*

If I ever made crazy-good money, I'd totally snag another one, along with a couple other cars I like. Not a ton of cars. Just a few that I really like: A Mustang (one of the good ones -- the cool ones, a fastback -- blue, I think, maybe with racing stripes. Maybe white); a new Thunderbird (the discontinued ones; I'd get a convertible, of course).

My Nova was such a fun car, despite the beige vinyl seats and the AM-only radio. It was fast and fun, and the girls liked it. Hee hee. The thinking man's muscle car!

Rear-wheel drive, naturally. Leaded gasoline, of course. I'd have to convert it a smidgen to deal with unleaded gas. I remember that stinker losing all traction in the snow -- I slowly backed it out of a parking space at high school and did a slow 360-degree spin on the frozen lot, just a slow-motion rear-wheel drive apocalypse -- but luckily it didn't hit anybody.

I remember taking friends for drives in it, doing fishtails in the snow, the car stalling out at inopportune moments, the power steering going out, it becoming a sliding brick of an automobile, as I fumbled with the ignition.

I remember dating two girls in one night in that car -- took one out for ice cream and hanging out in the park; then later taking another girl to dinner and a movie. I hadn't planned that -- Girl 1 had originally bailed on a date, so I'd set something up with Girl 2, then Girl 1 called and said she could make it after all, so I said, "Uh, sure." (being 17, the concept of NOT going on my own version of a double date was out of the question) and went on the casual park date -- like a dating appetizer!

I remember drag-racing a friend (who had an indigo 1974 Pontiac LeMans we called "The Bluesmobile" -- that was a HUGE car -- I'm 6'3" and I could lay across that car and not touch both sides). My poor Nova's 307 cubic-inch motor against the LeMans's 440 cubic-inch monstrosity. But we had a good (if totally boy-stupid) race, all peel-outs and shooting down the street. Of course, the LeMans beat my Nova, though I was quicker at the start.

I remember taking that car up to 110 mph with two friends in the back, the wind rocking the hell out of the car (they weren't as aerodynamic as they are today) and my friends freaking in the back seat -- they were the ones who egged me on to see how fast my car could go, so I just floored it and away we went. Yeah, teenaged boys shouldn't have muscle cars -- I get that. I was hurtling down the lonely road thinking Wow, if a cop sees me, I'm totally busted; if I hit a deer, we're totally dead. and my hands sweated and I took my foot off the accelerator and let the car slow itself back down, glad that nothing bad happened. My friends were silent in the back: be careful what you wish for, boys. Funny, but I only remember Jeff. There was another guy back there, but I can't remember who it was. Greg? Scott? I dunno. I only remember Jeff because he totally freaked out. I remember him driving his own car with the parking brake on, totally burning it out. Silly rabbit.

I remember driving that car to my first real (e.g., non-caddying) part-time job, at Burger King. The car makes me think of summer, as muscle cars always do. It was a good car, I was very loyal to it.

Had those little triangular vent windows in the front, which were fun to use. I liked the smell of the car -- not new car smell, but just cool car smell. Its own thing, maybe a byproduct of the horrible vinyl, which made it hell to sit in if it had been stewing in a parking lot all day, the pattern in the vinyl sinking into your legs if you wore shorts or something.

The seats were those monoseats the old 70s cars had, before bucket seats became the rage. The front seats flipped forward but formed a solid line, which made it great for dates. The back seat was one long vinyl line, the rear windows only slightly rolled down.

As a kid, I remember lying in those back seats, looking up at passing trees, trying to guess where my mom was driving us, like trying to guess the route by the sounds and the sights. Sometimes I'd fall asleep back there, and wake up when we were home, wherever home was at that time.

I remember my stepdad getting gas for it -- $5.00 to fill it up! Now it costs over $25 to fill my stinking Escort. Crazy days. I remember seeing "Self-Service Island" and being very young, thinking "Island" was "Is-Land" instead of "Eye-Land" in pronunciation -- in my mind, I thought "Is-Land" meant something like "Is-Good" -- "Self-Service Is-Good." Kid logic. Heh.

My folks sold it sometime when I was in college. There was no question of me keeping it -- it was my mom's car, officially, and she wanted to sell it, and so, sold it was. I didn't think to say "Hey, can I buy it from you?" because my parents were psycho about that kind of thing -- they'd always have this weird thwarting thing with anything I wanted, like the moment I expressed interest in something, they'd be against it. No way would I have asked for them to give it to me, because they totally wouldn't have. And had I offered to buy it, they'd have thwarted me on that, too.

That car was special. I'd probably get an SS version if I wanted a play car today, with a 350 cubic-inch motor. The fast Nova. I remember my older stepsister, who took Spanish, laughing that "Nova" meant "No go" in Spanish. But she was wrong; that car went, and I went with it! So many adventures.

Big-ass thunderstorm tonight. Best stop writing, eh?

Monkeeeeeeeeeee

I feel silly tonight.

Kinda like this (except I'm not out-of-sync)...

Mary Mary

More Monkees, because I can...

Circle Sky
Daydream Believer
Sweet Young Thing
The Porpoise Song
The Girl That I Knew Somewhere

Frick and Frack

Okay, so I went back through this blog, and fished out the poems I've added so far, and put them in their own place: Frick and Frack.

Keep in mind that the poems aren't in the same order they are here -- I just went back through the archive and sloppily posted them as I came across them -- "Driven" is the most recent one.

I'll still post them here, and then add them to F&F at the same time, henceforth. That way they're all in one place, and I won't have to noodle through my archive at some future date and go crazy finding them all.

I may put fiction there, too, if I'm really feeling motivated.

Memewhore

Here's a super-meme from Vesper's Escape...

10 Favorites
Favorite Season: Fall
Favorite Color: Blue
Favorite Time: 4:16 a.m.
Favorite Food: Pizza
Favorite Drink: Beer
Favorite Ice Cream: Mint Chocolate Chip
Favorite Place: New Orleans (pre-Katrina)
Favorite Sport: Baseball
Favorite Actor: Steve McQueen
Favorite Actress: Ann-Margret

9 Currents
Current Feeling: Casual
Current Drink: Coke
Current Time: 5:31 p.m. (CST)
Current Show on TV: Nothing
Current Mobile used: No cellphone (yeah, how retro is that?)
Current Windows Open: Three (Firefox, this site, and Vesper's Escape)
Current Underwear: (looking) Gray and blue plaid cotton boxers
Current Clothes: White t-shirt, black soccer shorts with two white racing stripes up the side
Current Thought: "Wow, I'm not thinking about anything right now!"

8 Firsts
First Nickname: Lambchop
First Kiss: Nice, naughty, and wild (8th grade)
First Crush: Kelly, older girl, two doors up from home; first girl I saw in a bikini
First Best Friend: Scott
First Vehicle I Drove: 1972 Chevy Nova (vrrrrrroooooooom)
First Job: Part-time? Golf Caddy. Full-time? Cafeteria worker
First Date: Movie and pizza
First Pet: Dog named Maurice

7 Lasts
Last Drink: Soy Vanilla stuff.
Last Kiss: I don't kiss and tell, silly!
Last Meal: Lunch (BBQ chicken calzone).
Last Web Site Visited: Vesper's Escape (looking for the good memeage).
Last Movie Watched: The Thomas Crown Affair .
Last Phone Call: I can't remember -- I usually e-mail instead of phone people, anymore.
Last TV show Watched: Hell's Kitchen -- I love that show!

6 Have You Evers
Have You Ever: Broken the Law: Oh, sure. Nothing serious, though.
Have You Ever Been Drunk: Yup.
Have You Ever Kissed Someone You Didn't Know: Yes, indeed.
Have You Ever Been in the Middle/Close to Gunfire: Yup (about 50 feet away).
Have You Ever Skinny Dipped: Nope.
Have You Ever Broken Anyone's Heart: Definitely.

5 Things
Things You Can Hear Right Now: A CTA bus, the hum of traffic.
Things On Your Bed: One of my cats, rumpled covers, a blanket, pillows.
Things You Ate Today: Shredded Wheat cereal and a peach; Almond Snickers bar, aforementioned Calzone; mozzarella cheese sandwich with Soy Vanilla drink, a handful of Pringles.
Things You Can't Live Without: My boys, love, sex, books, music.
Things You Do When You Are Bored: I don't think I get bored.

4 Places You Have Been Today
Apartment, car, job, cafeteria.

3 Things On Your Desk Right Now
Manuscripts (stack on the left); two CDs (Small Faces BBC Sessions, Arctic Monkeys debut disc), two rubber pool balls (10-ball and 5-ball)

2 Choices
Black or White: Black
Hot or Cold: Cool weather, Hot life.

1 Place You Want To Visit
The Ozark Plateau.

===

One more, again taking from Vesper's wealth of memes...

You pick an artist, and answer the questions only using titles of their songs.

1. Name of band/artist: Small Faces
2. Are you male or female?: (Male) You'd Better Believe It
3. Describe yourself: It's Too Late
4. How do you feel about yourself?: Don't Stop What You're Doing
5. Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: Every Little Bit Hurts
6. Describe current girlfriend/boyfriend: E Too D
7. Describe where you want to be: Happydaystoytown
8. Describe how you live: All Or Nothing
9. Describe how you love: Afterglow
10. What would you ask for if you had just one wish?: Understanding
11. Share a few words of wisdom: Sha-La-La-La-Lee
12. Now say goodbye: I Can't Dance With You

Just saw this on Vesper's Escape, and had to take the test...

You Are 47% American

America: You don't love it or want to leave it. But you wouldn't mind giving it an extreme make over. On the 4th of July, you'll fly a freak flag instead... And give Uncle Sam a sucker punch!

How American Are You?

Encampment

Alright, I'm de-smokified and re-slept enough to recount a little -- still bummed that none of my pix came through. Meh.

Starved Rock State Park is an interesting little place near Utica, Illinois -- it's got actual canyons (R) and sandstone towers at a juncture of the Illinois River, but the approach to it is screened by thick woods (which are themselves bracketed by cornfields). Blink and you'll miss it.

Plum Island, across the river, is a sanctuary for bald eagles -- I saw one flying across the water. There are areas like French Canyon (frightening in that there's precious little railing along the trail -- you walk without paying attention and you're right over the side, falling a few hundred feet onto sandstone). Lover's Leap had a great view, as did Eagle Cliff, which gave a good view of a dam across the Illinois River.

Starved Rock itself was heavily overgrown, and was pretty crowded, but some of the other trails weren't so bad, since they involved lots of stairs and climbing, and that drove off most of the tourists.

The campsite itself was very convivial, with lots of friendly people about, enjoying fun and frolic, an even mix of RVs and tents, at least initially, before campers and winnebagos came to dominate the area. Lots of Canadians -- at one point, they sang "Oh Canada" which wafted on the breeze. Saw some cars with Ontario plates, so I guess they were from Toronto or environs. The Canadians were in a large group, and when they left, it was a little quieter at the camp.

I'd say Starved Rock would be ideal in either Spring or Fall -- Spring if you want to see actual waterfalls; there were a ton of great sites at the canyons just begging for waterfalls, but in Summer, just not enough water to do them justice (the trees and brush were all green, but the water level in the canyons and ravines wasn't quite sufficient). Fall would give you great views and colored leaves.

The day that's mine

Alright, a little late, but I was inspired by Vesper's own meme-in-waiting on this, taking three events, births, and deaths for X day.

April 16

EVENTS
1178 BC - A solar eclipse may have marked the return of Odysseus, legendary King of Ithaca, to his kingdom after the Trojan War.
1746 - Second Jacobite Rebellion: The Battle of Culloden, the last battle of the Jacobite Uprising is fought, ultimately leading to the destruction of the Highland clans.
1943 - Dr. Albert Hofmann discovers the psychedelic effects of LSD.

BIRTHS
1889 - Charlie Chaplin, English actor, writer, and film producer (d. 1977)
1962 - Ian MacKaye, American musician, (Fugazi and Minor Threat)
1964 - Dave Pirner, American rock singer (Soul Asylum)

DEATHS
1859 - Alexis de Tocqueville, French historian (b. 1805)
1994 - Ralph Ellison, American writer (b. 1914)
2002 - Robert Urich, American actor (b. 1946)

Ladytron

This song's been buzzing in my head all morning. Good dance tune.

Ladytron
"Playgirl"

Playgirl, why are you sleeping in tomorrow’s world? Hey, playgirl
Playgirl, why are you dancing when you could be alone? Hey, playgirl
Playgirl, why are you sleeping in tomorrow’s world? Hey, playgirl
Playgirl, choking on cigarettes won't get you along, hey, playgirl

Hey playgirl, hey playgirl,
Northern lights catch you coming down,
Sleep your way out of your hometown.

Playgirl, why are you sleeping in tomorrow’s world? Hey, playgirl
Playgirl, why are you dancing when you could be alone? Hey, playgirl

Hey playgirl, hey playgirl, northern lights catch you coming down,
Sleep your way out of your hometown.

A foreign coin in a telephone box,
A question mark on a calendar,
An empty seat on the alpha line,
A sorting code and account number....

Hey playgirl, hey playgirl,
Northern lights catch you coming down,
Sleep your way out of your hometown.

Green

Musing

For my Muse, of course.

Driven

Sidelong glances from the shotgun seat--
my lady: pretty, passionate, sweet.
You hold my free hand while I drive,
nip me with your teeth and laugh.
I smile all the while, driving fast.

We don't quite know where we're going
I wouldn't say that we're lost, though;
we both know exactly where we are:
driving south in the northbound lane
if they saw, they'd say we were insane.

But, laughing, my lady holding tight
I can't pretend that it's not right.
The pines shoot by, flanking and fast,
but we're just enjoying each other,
we're snug and safe and warm at last.

Grrrr.

I'm back. No pictures, though. Battery died. Drat. One was a great shot of this towering cloud just aching to be a thunderstorm, but lit by the setting sun. That's the shot I wanted most of all. No dice, though. No pictures, either. Hate that. Sleepy right now, but will get back to you soonish to recount things I saw.

Starved Rock

Going camping this weekend. Hopefully I'll get some good pix, that the battery on my little camera won't run out! Fingers crossed! Back on Tuesday!

Ours: Hers and Mine

The lake looks positively silver tonight. I tried taking a baker's dozen worth of pictures of it and couldn't capture it -- the lake kept blending with the sky.

Her pick: To Have and Have Not

She had us for Steve and Slim.

My pick: The Thomas Crown Affair (the original, of course; the real one)

I had us for Thomas and Vicki.

Who was right? Heh! ;)

Desktop

My desktop. That's Ann-Margret. I arranged some of the icons; she's ironically pointing at Internet Explorer (I use Firefox, myself).

Second Second-Longest Day

Today seems like a day for Suede. I can't explain why. I'm listening to the song, "So Young" off of their debut. I like the richly decadent beauty of their stuff -- it's its own thing. I like listening to it, makes me feel young and Oscar Wilde at heart!

Not a good day for wearing suede, though, with rain coming on and off again. I want to get some ivory suede bucs, because that would look good with my work slacks (usually gray, tan, or beige). Haven't gotten around to it, yet.

I used to have Clark's desert boots, wore them to death as a young guy, didn't take good care of them, just wore'em out. Now I see that the ostensibly British shoes are made in Estonia, and I picked up a pair and turned them in my hands and found them to be cheaply made, but not cheaply priced -- way too much for the crappy quality. Disappointed me, made me wish I'd managed to rehab and save my desert boots from long ago, when they were still of good quality.

Music: Suede, "Animal Nitrate"

Saw cottonwood plumes floating in restive winds today, beneath storm-fattened skies -- otherworldly, really, pretty and mesmeric, the white plumes standing starkly against the background of darkening green.

Music: Suede, "She's Not Dead"

The above song brings tears to my eyes more often than not. It's so beautifully forlorn...

She's Not Dead
Suede

she'll come to her end locked in a car somewhere with exhaust in her hair
What's she called? I dunno, she's fucking with a slip of a man while the engine ran

And he said "She's not dead, she's gone away, gone away" he said
He said "She's not dead, just go away go away" he said

In the car he couldn't afford they found his made-up name on her ankle chain
so don't call, don't call her at home
she's fucking with a slip of a man while the engine ran

and he said "she's not dead, she's gone away gone away" he said
he said "she's not dead, she's gone away gone away"
he said "just gone away, gone away" he said
she's gone away to someone else's bed

Makes me think of her, flown far away from me, forever and ever, amen. I like the decadent, syrupy Britpop and the trippy shoegazing as well as I like the rocky things. And then something feisty, for my spirit never stays down for long...

Music: Suede, "Moving"

Yeah. That's the stuff -- somehow the singer's squawk-yelps make it all the more entertaining to me.

Music: Suede, "Pantomime Horse"

Back to the beautiful melancholy. Such a great debut album. I'll just groove to the rest of it, I think. Nah, I'll skip ahead...

Music: Suede, "Metal Mickey"

Poetry Thursday

Just some Thursday words.

Under Lock and Key

The Key was brass, the Lock was steel
while the tumblers, spectators, waited,
in their ordered metallic bands.
The Key, tarnished, worn smooth by
careless passing between ceaseless hands.
The Lock, rusted, made brittle by
neglectful storms and lonely circumstance.

Mismatched from the start, this pair,
they found each other by chance.
The Key had lost its mate, left behind;
The Lock guarded a long-forgotten,
listing, rotting, wayward, swaybacked shack.

"I'll set you free," said the brassy Key.
"But this is my place," rasped the Lock.
Each half as useful as could be,
separate serendipity.
"I'll open you yet," the Key said.

And, yes, it tried, fumbling
with Lock's rusty hide.
But Key bent itself upon the Lock
a broken key, without its pride
fell forgotten into the grass.

"I told you that you would fail."
The Lock said to the Key of Brass.
"I did not fail, I had to try,"
replied the Key, as lost, it died.
Leaving the Lock its lonely task,
to guard the long-neglected hasp.

And guard it did, for years and years
as grasses grew, the rusting clasp
held its solitary vigil.
Until Deliverance came, yes!
The Owner walked out to the shack
he carried something in his hand.
"My key, my key!" the Lock exclaimed.
Duty rewarded, the Lock felt grand.

But in Owner's hands there was no Key
Lock shook itself upon the hasp.
Just a blue-steeled bolt cutter, see?
And caught in the bolt cutter's grasp,
Lock gazed down upon the Key,
the brassy one, tarnished and bent.
Tossed aside, lost, uselessly free.

And with a snap, the Lock was rent
to hit the ground beside the Key.
"Free at last," the Lock proclaimed,
two half-useful tools, cast away.
Though tired, broken, bent, and maimed,
the Lock felt happy, anyway.

Long day, indeed

Man, this song takes me back to my first couple of years in Chicago, long ago...

Veruca Salt, "Seether"

Good little power pop tune, back when Chicago had its momentary "scene" -- Material Issue, Liz Phair, Smashing Pumpkins, Urge Overkill, Jesus Lizard, Stabbing Westward, Veruca Salt. Good times, though Chicago's never managed to really make its music work as well for it as it should.

Meeeeeeme

Took this from Gina. I'm a meme-fiend, after all...

First Thought

1. My ex is... who knows? Probably in Cleveland. Ancient history.
2. I am listening to... the city awaken, traffic going by.
3. Maybe I should... exercise this morning.
4. I love... life.
5. My best friend/s... are on either coast.
6. I don't understand... how I can make people so happy and angry so easily.
7. I lost... my way last month.
8. People say... what they don't really mean.
9. The meaning of my screen name is... a joke on hateful adversaries: "SIKE!"
11. Somewhere, someone is... happy.
12. I will always... be me.
13. Forever seems... alright to me, if I could only live that long.
14. I never want to... lose my passion.
15. My mobile phone is... nonexistent -- I have no mobile phone, won't get one. I like being hard to reach.
16. When I wake up in the morning... I'm momentarily elated.
17. I get annoyed when... I lead with my heart and hurt myself. I should know better.
18. Parties are... tiring. I enjoy them, but they wear me out, too.
19. My Cats have... the nasty tendency to awaken me at 3:30 every morning for no reason beyond them wanting me up.
20. Kisses are the best when... given with love and tenderness.
21. Today I... will write up query letters.
24. I really want... early retirement. Like really, really early.

And just for fun, another one, this one taken from Maddy...

I Don't Know

I don't know when to quit.
I don't know how to lie very well (terrible at poker).
I don't know anything, really. Not for sure.
I don't know how to do math very well.
I don't know how to be quiet.
I don't know where my next job will be.
I don't know what I'll even do.
I don't know why my dad didn't like me.
I don't know how to make her happy, or even if I can.
I don't know when I'll get a book deal.
I don't know if I'll get a book deal.
I don't know if humanity will survive another century.
I don't know how long I will live.
I don't know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop.
I don't know whether I should even care.
I don't know where I'll live next, after Chicago.
I don't know how not to be optimistic.
I don't know if that makes me shallow or deep.
I don't know why I get broody sometimes.
I don't know anybody famous.
I don't know and I don't care.

The Longest Day

Happy Summer Solstice, Blogiverse -- the Longest Day, the Day Without End.

I wrote up two query letters for agencies -- this is for two of the books I've written (Books 2 and 3 in this case). It's a huge longshot, of course, but a shot that has to be taken! I'm also pimping out a short story collection, seeing if I can get any agents interested in that (13 stories -- go with the lucky 13). We'll see. I'm stubborn and foolish, so I'll gladly leap over the wall sans parachute, dagger between my teeth, and see what happens! I have nothing to lose but hope and pride. Hahah! If I can snag an agent, then I'll do a happy dance. I'm happy to write away, let somebody else find markets for what I write.

Once again, it's cool in Chicagoland. So far, the weather's been pretty kind, but July and August await, and those can be really miserable around here, especially if the power goes out because too many people have air conditioners on and our deteriorating infrastructure can't handle it.

Second Longest Day

So, tomorrow's the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year. Which makes today and the day after tomorrow the second-longest days of the year. Today feels long, the whole day did -- a long and melancholy day.

Outside, I see twin plumes of salmon-colored smog on the horizon, running parallel to each other, looming over the lake. And I see a white yacht, a tourist transport, by the size of it, catching the pink of the setting sun. The lake looked like quicksilver, but only for a moment, before it settled into gray. Lazy clouds linger higher, and the air is cool and there's the slightest of breezes, not even enough to stir the trees.

I miss my friends.

(per Maddy's suggestion, I'll "poetize" it)...

Second Longest Day

So, tomorrow's
the Summer Solstice,
the longest day
of the year.
Which makes today
and the day
after tomorrow
the second-longest days
of the year.
Today feels long,
the whole day did --
a long and melancholy day.

Outside, I see
twin plumes of
salmon-colored smog
on the horizon, running
parallel to each other, looming
over the lake. And I see
a white yacht,
a tourist transport,
by the size of it,
catching the pink
of the setting sun.

The lake looked like quicksilver,
but only for a moment,
before it settled into gray.
Lazy clouds linger higher,
and the air is cool
and there's the
slightest of breezes,
not even enough
to stir the trees.

I miss my friends.

Boss Hoss

From Reuters...

For once, a bad boss could be a good thing...
Tue Jun 20, 2006 11:09 AM ET
By Peter Szekely

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - The U.S. labor movement is asking workers to move their complaints about their bosses from the water cooler to the Web.

Working America, the AFL-CIO union federation's affiliate for nonunion workers, invited workers throughout the country on Monday to share their best stories about their worst bosses in its "My Bad Boss Contest."

Top prize is a one-week vacation.

"It's an opportunity for people to get this off their chests and to see what's happening out there and to shine a spotlight on this," said Working America Executive Director Karen Nussbaum.

It's also an opportunity for the worker advocacy group, which has more than 1 million members, to pick up new members, since contestants must go to www.workingamerica.org to enter.

Standing by to weigh in with on-line comments about the worst-boss stories are author Barbara Ehrenreich, who chronicled the plight of the working poor in "Nickel and Dimed," comedian tuned liberal talk show host Al Franken and liberal commentator Jim Hightower.

Voting for the best worst-boss stories will be done by Web readers over the next six weeks. Each week's top vote-getter will be eligible to compete for the grand prize, a seven-night vacation getaway and $1000 for a round trip air fare, to be announced by August 16

Leading vote-getters as of Monday were:

-- "Russ," whose table-thumping boss at a small Maryland company nixed bonuses, cut overtime and ordered managers to "instill fear" in workers to boost productivity, all because a competing company's owner had a more expensive car, and

-- "Graphics Girl," who left her Pennsylvania media company, and was publicly berated for doing so, after 10 years, including the last five where she worked 50 to 80 hours a week without overtime pay and often without seeing her children. "I missed birthdays and health and years of seasons changing since my office was in a basement with no windows, all for nothing," she wrote.

"It's important to legitimize for people that when you're treated unfairly on the job, that it's not necessarily something you have to swallow," commented Nussbaum.

And then there was "Nobody" from California who warned others by his own example of the perils of entering the contest from a workplace computer. "The fact that my entire Internet connection is monitored by my employer prohibits me from making a contribution," he wrote.

Damned

I really like Calexico's cover of the Damned's "Alone Again Or" -- it's soulful, stirring, and pretty...

Alone Again Or

Yeah
Said it's alright
I won't forget
All the times I've waited patiently for you
and you'll do just what you used to do
And I will be alone again tonight, my dear.

Yeah
I heard a funny thing
Somebody said to me,
"You know that I could be in love with almost everyone,
and I think that people are the greatest fun."
and I will be alone again tonight, my dear.

And I will be alone again tonight, my dear.

Yeah
I heard a funny thing
Somebody said to me
"You know that I could be in love with almost everyone;
I think that people are the greatest fun."
and I will be alone again tonight, my dear.

And I will be alone again tonight, my dear.

Conditioned

Quiet morning. Cool air; a lot of people just leave their a/c on constantly -- I can hear the humming of their window units, but I always turn mine off if it's cool outside.

I'm not awake enough to properly post right now, I think. Heh.

Heard on the news that there are something like ~125,000 gang members in Chicago. Chicago disbanded its police gang investigation unit years ago, because it was rife with corruption. As a result, there's been a lot more gang stuff here, I guess. The northern suburbs are particularly getting hit by it, which means there'll probably something done about it, because those are rich sub- and exurbs up there.

Evanston alone has something like 600 gangsters up there. They're going there because there's the usual demand for drugs among rich kids, and outside of the city proper, it's easier for the gangs to operate and overwhelm suburban police forces. The only time I've ever heard actual gunfire (aside from New Year's celebrations when people would fire pistols in the air -- yikes, but yeah, it happens) was when I lived in Evanston. So, if the gang situation has gotten worse up there, whoa.

Darkness

I feel dirty even liking this song, but I do, anyway. I'm not a fan of the Darkness, dammit, but this one still...uhh...has grown on me, the fat riffs in it...

"Growing On Me"
the Darkness

I can't get rid of you
I don't know what to do
I don't even know who is growing on who
'Cos everywhere I go you're there
Can't get you out of my hair
Can't pretend that I don't care--it's not fair

I'm being punished for all my offences
I wanna touch you but I'm afraid of the consequences
I wanna banish you from whence you came
But you're part of me now
And I've only got myself to blame

You're really growing on me
(Or am I growing on you?)
You're really growing on me
(Or am I growing on you?)
Any fool can see

Sleeping in an empty bed
Can't get you off my head
I won't have a life until you're dead
Yes, you heard what I said

I wanna shake you off but you just won't go
And you're all over me but I don't want anyone to know
That you're attached to me, that's how you've grown
Won't you leave me, leave me alone

You're really growing on me
(Or am I growing on you?)
You're really growing on me
(Or am I growing on you?)
Any fool can see

You're really growing on me
(Or am I growing on you?)
You're really growing on me
(Or am I growing on you?)

Huh.

I wonder what beer it was? Some probably to qualify as WMDs...

Bomb squad mobilized over six-pack of beer
Mon Jun 19, 2006 9:13 AM ET

TOKYO (Reuters) - Police in southern Japan closed off roads, evacuated residents and even brought in a bomb squad after spotting a suspicious box in a police station, only to find out it was a six-pack of beer.

Police in Iizuka City in Fukuoka took precautions after discovering the box, wrapped in newspaper and sealed with adhesive tape, on the counter of a police station Friday afternoon, a police spokesman said.

A bomb squad was rushed to the scene after an X-ray scan showed metallic cylinders inside the box. A local television station broadcast the incident live using helicopters, he said.

But police found out the true contents after a woman, having seen the TV report, contacted them saying that she had left the cans of beer Friday morning in return for receiving advice on home security.

The spokesman said police will not press any charges against the woman as it was an accident resulting from an act of goodwill, adding that the steps taken were appropriate.

"We have to always think about the worst case scenario and how to protect the residents."

Poem

More poems, right? Heh. I kind of like this one. All the lines but one have the same beats, but I'm not sure if the rhythm is quite there. "Fire" always feels like it should have two syllables, but it's really only one. I looked it up, just to be sure. This is what I get for watching shows about volcanoes over the weekend...

Wind and Fire

Greedy Fire ate the woods--
combustible pairing!
Lonesome Wind howled her last--
left Fire sputtering.

With nothing left to breathe,
Fire went from blaze to spark.
Consumed with consumption,
leaving only scorched bark.

Wind had just held her breath,
she hid behind the sky.
Watched Fire burn himself out,
and she saw her Fire die.

With Sister Rain a-waiting
and Brother Smoke there, too
Wind kissed Fire one last time
and then she said adieu.

Funny

First song on my iTunes this morning: the Cure, "Friday I'm In Love."

But it's Monday, dammit! Not Friday!! Maybe I should play the Happy Mondays, instead?

Music: Happy Mondays, "Step On."

There.

Today

Music: Mogwai, "Folk Death 95"

Feels like my theme music for today.

Am

Gurk. I've got the blues today. Seems an ongoing theme, lately, eh? All Morrisseyesque! Hahah! "I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour, and heaven knows I'm miserable now..."

A.M.

Guh. I'm totally awake right now.

A-M

1960s Ann-Margret rules. Rules, I tellya.

Sleepless Part Two

To combat my drowsiness, I took some Ultra Pep Back, caffeine pills, and am now quite awake. Woo hoo! I'm a total caffeine creampuff -- depressants are more my cup of tea, heh. Anyway, I'll probably be awake all night, and so the cycle continues!

Sleepless

Woke up early this morning; too early. Went to bed too late. Sleepy. Almost wrecked my car this morning a couple of time, because I was drowsy. Whoops! Luckily, no problems. Just almost, which doesn't usually happen with me.

Glad folks got a kick out of the meme. I love memes, as I've said, so any time you have a good one, send it along and I'll play.

Work's extra-boring today. Bleah.

Anybody have anything fun going on? I'm too sleepy to be entertaining today. Sorry!

Polar Bear Swim

Lincoln Park Zoo.

Muse Monday

For her, of course, my Muse! Something light and summery, with a twist of frolic, served neat...

Lady Green

Lady Green, Lady Green
looks so sharp in velveteen
captures me with coquette's grin
which says
"My dear, yes, please come in."

Holds me fast in vixen's vice
serves me drinks, all without ice
and says
"Ice would melt, dear, anyway,
on this sultry Summer day."

I smile, she laughs, we share a kiss
transforming me from woe to bliss
I say
"Love, you break my heart in two,
when I cannot be with you."

And Lady Green, a lady, yes
puts her hands upon her dress
she says
"Darling, let us play awhile
I love the way you make me smile."

My heart explodes inside my chest
such earnest love we have confessed
we say
"It's not if, why, and, or whether:
Just 'I will love you, dear, forever.'"

ATOZ ME

Totally stolen from Amy, who got it from Susannah. But it rocks, and I'm always a whore for memes...

accent: None -- plain old Midwestern blah. However, I can do almost any accent I want -- my best are British (various classes), German, New Yorker, Southerner, and Scots. I'm very good at them. People always want me to do them. I should be an actor; still haven't ruled that out.

booze: Geez, where to start? Gin. Rum. Beer. Wine (red). Absinthe. Tequila.

chore I hate: Cleaning cat litter box. Frickin' cats.

dogs/cats: Two cats; unnamed, to protect their identities and keep the stalkers at bay.

essential electronics: iPod and my laptop.

favorite perfume/cologne: Lauder's "Beyond Paradise for Men" -- makes me smell damned good.

gold/silver: Silver -- I'm too warm-complected for gold, I think. Silver's cool, anyway, precisely because it tarnishes.

hometown: NE Ohio, Rust Belt. Not Cleveland. More desolate.

insomnia: Almost never. For me, five minutes awake in bed is "insomnia" -- hah! Though I find if I lay on my back, I can't fall asleep. I have to lay on my stomach to sleep.

job title: Senior Editor at a prestigious place, but am not saying more.

kids: Two beautiful, brilliant sons with prettier blue eyes than mine (one's blueberry-eyed, the other, slate).

living arrangements: Two-bedroom apartment in a Chicago brownstone that was a hotel in the 1920s and looks it -- has a classy art deco feel to it.

most admired trait: Physical? Hmmm, my height (6'3") and broad shoulders and my kind blue eyes; Social? Sense of humor, for sure -- I can make anybody laugh.

number of sexual partners: I'm a gentleman scoundrel; I'll never kiss and tell!

overnight hospital stays: Two that I can remember; one for tonsils, one for hernia -- both in the mid 1970s.

phobia: Fear of flying; used to love flying, wanted to be a pilot when I was a kid; in 1998, I got phobic. Very odd, but there you have it. I think it's a fear of being a passenger, being at the mercy of somebody else, honestly. Rollercoasters get me that way, too -- just being strapped in and a passenger gives me the willies. I'm a driver, not a passenger.

quotes: "I’ve got no name. I’ve got no rank. I’ve got no serial number. And you can go to hell." --Humphrey Bogart. That says it all to me; I keep that one in my wallet.

religion: None.

siblings: No full-blooded; two older stepsisters, two younger half-sisters from father.

time I usually wake up: 4:16 a.m. No alarm clock. I just wake up. Instantly. And I never nap.

unusual talent: Able to piss anybody off without trying; also, can instigate things without people even realizing I'm the one who first yelled "fire" in the crowded theater -- I am a clear and present danger, though I try to instigate for good, like get folks motivated.

vegetables I refuse to eat: None; I love vegetables; probably wouldn't eat boiled nettles, though.

worst habit: Self-hatred. Very good at it, almost qualifies as an unusual talent.

x-rays: I've had my share; who keeps count? I don't glow in the dark, and only broke my middle finger, and never got that x-rayed or set or anything.

yummy foods I make: Anything Italian; grew up in an Italian stepfamily, and I cook serious-ass good, unpretentious Italian food. Try me. My biscotti alone would melt your soul, but my sauces are tops, all homemade, natch.

zodiac sign: Aries all the way; you read about the Aries Male, and it's totally me, totally, for better and worse.

Serious R&B

Here's Ike and Tina Turner, kicking soulful ass, 60s-style. Never mind the associated subtext with this footage, given their troubled relationship. This is a great clip...

Ike and Tina

Snap

Blogger? Flogger? Slogger?

Man, Blogger's been a real PITA lately!! All these outages! Grrr.

Toasty

Feels like it's going to be hot today. I'm sweating, already. I exercised and my hair got all curly from the humidity. I have straight/wavy hair, but the sideburns kinda curl up when it's humid, which makes me laugh, as they hook around my glasses. When I used to have my hair long, it would totally be at the mercy of humidity.

So, what's in store for today? Work. Blech. That's no fun.

Musical

Today's a good day; all's well with my muse and me. I was totally missing her, totally loving her. She's so great -- I'm going to write a bunch of poems about her, once I get them decent enough.
It's hard, as I said before, because prose is my first love, not poetry, even though I always pay attention to how my prose sounds when I write it. But it's a worthy challenge.

Everybody should have a muse -- maybe I'll make Monday my Muse-day (wow, all that alliteration!), where I honor her in new and (hopefully) interesting ways -- not like I don't think of her every day, and take inspiration from her all the time, but I like having a special day where I honor her here. That would be cool, don'tcha think?

So, next week: Muse Monday! Hee hee! That sounds fun.

Music: Wolfmother, "Woman"

Poetry Tuesday?

Since it's all numerical today (06/06/06) I've been enjoying fiddling around with poetry. Here's one where I play with syllables, counting up from 1 to 10 -- something sinister for the day...

Lamia

You,
my love:
Wind-whipped hair
and baleful gaze!
Lamia flexes
her iron claws against
stone. She wants to rend my heart
and then to feast upon my flesh
while she makes love with that corpse of mine
and weeps blood tears, prays for better quarry.

Self-Portrait Challenge: Pop Art

Pop Sike

Alright, I confess that I was inspired by Boho's cool electric blue portrait. So, here's my own attempt; just so long people spare me jokes about Blue Man Group! I liked the way it turned out, and had to run with the title! But if I really wanted to Warholize it, I'd silkscreen about a dozen of them, side by side.

Well...

Looks like Slogger got back on track. I hate when Blogger acts up; puts me in a bad mood. I've been remiss on Group Hug postings, haven't I? Let's see. Hmmm. Nothing jumps out at me.

Here's a pretty comical/sad/icky/messed-up one that I won't reprint, but good lord are people whacked.

Bleah.

What's the difference between a hopeless romantic and a hopeful one? I mean, the hopeless romantic is always pining for the love (s)he can't have, or else is mourning something. And a hopeful romantic doesn't stay hopeful for long, do they?

Careless

Just words.

Careless

Without a care
or without caring?
There's a careful difference
in between those words,
and that's right where you'll find me.

If I said I didn't care,
we'd know that I was lying.

If I said I wouldn't care,
you'd know I was lying, too.

If I said I was without a care,
I'd be lying to myself,
and no one else.

And are those selfish lies
the most hurtful ones of all?

It hardly matters,
there's no point in
caring, is there?

Caring rhymes with sharing
and that's something
I won't do,
even though
yes, I know:
I have to.

You have the world
ahead of you,
and my world is
smaller by comparision:
four walls, six windows,
one door -- no, four --
but only one leading out.

Words

The lake looks indigo today. Really pretty, not too wavy -- mild weather, too. Sunny, pleasant, not scalding hot.

Have to be good tonight, work on fiction. Many plates in the air, all spinning. My maternal grandfather (who died long ago, like the late 80s) was really dextrous -- he could juggle plates and do that kind of thing. I can juggle, but not as handily as he could. Above is a sketch of him from WWII, drawn by a friend of his at the time. He was actually pretty rascally; I've joked that WWII was the best thing to happen to him, from what I've heard. I hope I get his hair -- his turned all white when he got old.

What are words for, when no one listens anymore? (had to quote Missing Persons, for the heckuvit)

I'm in a pretty good mood today, overall, compared to the blues I had earlier this week. Generally when I can get enough writing done, I feel good; if I get stymied, I get depressed. Very Aries, right? Must. Conquer. World!


Give Me Women, Wine, And Snuff

Give me women, wine, and snuff
Untill I cry out "hold, enough!"
You may do so sans objection
Till the day of resurrection:
For, bless my beard, they aye shall be
My beloved Trinity.

John Keats

I'll pass on the snuff, thanks.

Centennial

My one-hundredth post.

Pining

Music: the Cure, "Boys Don't Cry"

I'm lovesick, my friends. It's a tangled story, but my heart just aches with longing for my Muse. She's out there, but far away. Anyway, I'm battening down my heart for the day, so I can get through it!

I go through my day with an ache in my heart for her that brings tears to my eyes. I try to channel the passionate pain into prose, poetry, and pictures, but it stays with me, or only grows at the thought of her -- she is so exquisite, so talented, so gracious.

It's exquisite agony, its own special kind of pain that anybody in love knows so well. I try to make it work for me, and not against me, but it's hard. Love is a wondrous and terrible thing.

She's a most amazing woman, an artist, like me, and what an artist! And that's what I love the most -- she bleeds for the world as much as I do, sees the beauty and the horror both, and doesn't blink, doesn't shut her eyes from it. I respect her so much for that, for enduring artful agony. It's a painful enterprise, that of the artist -- to find the terrible beauty in the world around you and to strive to represent it as best you can, knowing that, in truth, you can never really perfectly match the vision in your head. Technique can bring you close, but as the Zen saying goes, "The finger pointing at the Moon is not the Moon." I respect that idea so much; it keeps me humble.

People rip on artists, like it's somehow bad to feel so much -- unbusinesslike, right? In the world of the callow businessman, we're all just supposed to not let our hearts get in the way of anything, just ring things up and sell ourselves and buy crap we don't need.

But only another artist can understand an artist -- I remember seeing the Joffrey Ballet the first year they came to Chicago, and sitting in the theater, I actually cried watching them dance, it was so moving. My eyes are tearing up right now at the memory -- watching them dance, hearing the music, the perfect synergy of the moment, the purity of form and motion -- it was just staggering, left my heart bursting. It was transcendant.

Makes me think of her, the beautiful ache. What's the quote about how the world is a comedy for those who think and a tragedy for those who feel? I always found that quote amusing. What is the world to an artist? It's everything.

And what's my Muse to me? She's everything. I bleed for her with every beat of my heart.

Definitely Maybe

British Vote Oasis Album Best of All
Jun 1, 9:28 AM EST

The Associated Press

LONDON -- "Definitely Maybe," the debut album by Oasis, has beaten the Beatles' "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" in a British vote for the greatest album of all time, organizers said Thursday.

The Beatles also took third place with "Revolver" and had three other albums in the Top 100 in the vote staged by British Hit Singles & Albums, an annual publication, and NME.com.

The vote was announced in last year's edition of British Hit Singles & Albums, said editor David Roberts. Anyone could vote for as many as 10 albums, in rank order, and probably 95 percent of the 40,000 votes came from Britain, he said.

The biggest surprise, in Roberts' view, was The Libertines' debut album, "Up the Bracket," at No. 15 — a strong showing he attributed to singer Pete Doherty's well-publicized involvement with supermodel Kate Moss and his arrests for alleged drug use.

Other albums on the list include U2's "The Joshua Tree" (No. 11), Michael Jackson's "Thriller" (No. 35), the Rolling Stones' "Exile on Main Street," (No. 42), The White Stripes' "Elephant" (No. 59), Bruce Springsteen's "Born to Run" (No. 84) and the Eagles' "Hotel California" (No. 100).

The top 10:

1. "Definitely Maybe," Oasis.

2. "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band," The Beatles.

3. "Revolver," The Beatles.

4. "OK Computer," Radiohead.

5. "(What's the Story) Morning Glory?" Oasis.

6. "Nevermind," Nirvana.

7. "The Stone Roses," The Stone Roses.

8. "Dark Side of the Moon," Pink Floyd.

9. "The Queen Is Dead," The Smiths.

10. "The Bends," Radiohead.

Ten Years Gone

I'm sad and lonely today.

BG talked about empathy in a heartfelt post the other day, and I sympathize -- I'm so empathic that I bleed buckets. Not literally, but I'm totally hit by other people's emotional responses, and they resonate with me. It's hard to be an emotional beacon like that -- good in that in good emotional situations, it can be a joyous thing; but in bad ones, christ, it hurts.

I quit my last job (this was back in 1999), because I got an ulcer from working with a boss who was juggling three different antidepressants and was busy being manic-depressive and going quite literally out of her mind. Anyway, that vibe crushed and devastated me during the seemingly eternal 1.5 or 2 years I worked there. It was emotional agony -- the first night after my first day there, I laid in bed awake and stared at the ceiling and said "I think I just made a horrible mistake." And I was right. I left that job without having another one lined up, and sort of detoxed from it for six months, eating up savings and being unemployed until I had to find a job again. I wrote a book during that time (had nothing to do with the crazy boss; I just wanted to make good use of the time), my first one -- I still have the draft, and posted the opening lines to it awhile ago.

I got a stomach ulcer from that crazyboss situation, and had to take medication for it, and never entirely recovered. That is, I'm always aware that it can come back -- it has, from time to time. And the pain of a stomach ulcer is quite different from heartburn; ulcers hurt!

Since then, I've forced myself to try (not always with success) not to let my own empathy eat me up inside, while at the same time trying not to be emotionally distant. I mean, it's not like I can even be emotionally distant.

Everyone who knows me knows that I wear my heart right on my lapel (forget the sleeve -- I wear my heart as a boutonniere) -- and I feel vulnerable because of that. I'm glad that I'm sensitive to how other people are feeling; I think it's integral to the creative process -- you can't be insensitive and be artistic, I don't think.

But it also hurts. Today, I hurt.

Poetry Thursday

Bohemian Girl has inspired me to keep at the Poetry Thursday thing. Thanks, BG!

Twilight

Indigo morning sky
overcast and enigmatic
with a jade splinter between
twin cloud promontories,
motionless without wind.

It's what I see outside:
living room apartment window
is like an unblinking glass eye
offering up the dawn --
my slice of solitude.

Twilight comes twice a day.
Morning brings me hope and promise
nighttime leaves me spent, exhausted
Promises break both ways,
and never so cleanly.