memorabilia

I may be soft, I made the top, I like my cabaret non-stop,

It may be erotic, it may be ecstatic

With it down on your floor or in your attic.

You take it low or shut our eyes, and let our love materialise,

And I don't mean love on a chocolate box, I mean the love that really rocks

I say call me the baby, the good time lady,

Just look at me and it's easy to see why they call me Cindy Ecstasy.

Because I've got the eyes, the where's, the why's to make your love thing really

Rise,

You don't need your speed or your pair of wheels.

You've got the prize that will brighten your skies.

So look me up and I'll tell no lies,

Coz I'm the lady with the hot surprise,

If you don't believe me, ask Soft Cell, because I shook them up and I gave

Them hell.

So Call up Cindy Ecstasy if you're looking for a memory

Memorabilia...memorabilia

it's been an interesting week within an interesting month which makes for an interesting beginning to the year. i have passed through an uneasy time at my workplace and let go of a position that no longer felt healthy. i have passed through some financial stressors and can see an end to some challenges in that realm.  i almost rushed into another project, but pulled back at the last minute-deciding i should walk the idea around the block a few more times before i committed to purchasing. 

i must say that this week, this day, this friday evening finds me quite content. as i shred my work clothes just after arriving home, it occurred to me how much in my life has changed. for most of my years, i have never been able to sit home, let alone spend time by myself. yet at this juncture, i find spending time alone at home a very beautiful and happy thing. it speaks volumes to the affects of recovery to my sense of self. and i can clearly declare that i am quite satisfied with this shift.

i was listening to a remix of a sharon redd tune on soundcloud today and it took me back to when i was working at medusa's- sharon redd came to perform- 1984 i think. she had a hit record "can you handle it" at the time. she was an enigma to me. she had come to know success by that time in her life. she had been "discovered" working for bette midler as a harlette and then sang back up for a coupla more front divas before she got her own contract. she had a hit "beat the street" and then put out a few more records. this is about the time she came to medusa's. the big surprise was what we shared in common at that time. she was an uber-coke user. she freebased. i snorted. but we got blasted that whole evening. she had blasted so far outa this atmosphere that she built a structure of lawn chairs on the 3rd floor and hid behind them so she would feel safer. her boyfriend/manager came to collect her at the end of the evening and she hid behind the chairs and didn't want to leave. i can remember the awkward quality of that morning to this day. i never saw her again. we did not become friends. we just got blasted together in a quirk and the drifted. she passed away from aids-related pneumonia in 1992. 

as i wrote that last paragraph, i realize that there are so many facets and flavors in that paragraph that characterize several years of my life. over using, drifting, music, blasted,. enigma, fear- i could go on. of course there were other aspects to my life too, but i really know that part of me was caught up and blinded by a combination of a dance beat, denial, and addiction- all collaborating to change the way i felt. truthfully, in the 80's and 90's i had stumbled into a conveyer belt of some kind leading to today. damn i wanted to figure out a way out.

on monday i had 3 teeth pulled. i could have prolly had 2 crowns put in, but at my age and considering the cost, it seemed more practical to just exorcise them. i feel a bit naked in spots today. i will have a bridge built and slip something where there is now nothing and smile a little easier then. considering the sugar addiction, the 33 years of tobacco, coffee, and teeter-totter of vodka-scotch, it's a wonder i haven't lost more. still as i saw them being hoisted from my mouth, i felt a sense of loss and circumstance. i will not see them or use them ever again.

i had lunch with a friend today at work. she and i reminisced about some time passed and spent more time sharing observations about how things are now. the whole lunch fed my soul. she is emerging from a surgery which kept her at home for about 6 weeks. her recovery is slow, and seems to be keeping her in gratitude amid the fragile qualities that are life. our discussions lent themselves to what seems to be the focus of our days and efforts. and it's nice to have a cheerleader. and i hope i can be one also.

this morning i walked up to work while it was still dark. i got met with a big glass of insanity being splashed in my face likea slushee on glee. then a second splash came my way right after that. and all before i got into the building. sometimes i am not quite ready to help someone self-soothe. sometimes like today. although i work with many folks who have little or no self-soothing skills and have often felt ambushed before i get into the building, have a coffee, or get to set my bag down. it's a strange circular dance i engage in. again and again and again. i try to set boundaries. i try to slip in quietly. i try to ready. still too often i am approached before i feel ready and then try to dry off the slushee feeling for the next hour or so. without question there is a part of me that feels put upon. but the flipside is that i am lucky anybody wants to speak with me at all. there were times, many times, that there wasn't a voice within earshot that was meant for me. no i need to be okay with feeling invaded and then remembering that it's only a feeling. and feelings are not facts.

went to see august:osage county today. wow- was that a challenging experience. hard really. there were snippets of me, certainly snippets of family members, and swatches of addiction reality that cold-cocked me in the throat. it wasn't the gut-punching or kicking as i had found "requiem for a dream". osage county was more like a super 8 home movie that i didn't even know existed before this- and all the scenery is remembered, but i can't believe that's how we actually looked. this film had me peering in through the windows of my memory with a real fear that i would be found out. i tried hard not to make a sound, lest the anger i witnessed would be directed my way. i teared up a few times, mostly when the characters were talking gently about the dead dad.  this film left a strong taste in my mouth. i may have to go back in and get more.

i found this version of soft cell's "memorabilia" on soundcloud. it sparked the title for this post. i remember dancing to this- or body rocking really- at an after hours club in chicago called columns. it was on south michigan avenue. the crew i hung with in those days used to go there after the bars closed. my friend katie and i used to frequent the place. i met my best friend blue at columns. he was an odd duck then- still is actually. he was wearing a scottish purse on his head as a hat the first day we spoke. we walked home from columns north along the lake and forged the framework of a friendship that has lasted over 30 years. after hours clubs were just getting started in our town then.

i collect
 i reject....
 memorabilia....

event of a thread

Jetsyn greeting an old woman

In a large field Jetsyn came across a very beautiful girl, about fifteen years old. He went up to her , and she kindly invited him to her house, pointing, "It is over there. Wait for me at the door. I will come directly."

Accordingly, Milarepa went to her home, pushed the door open with his staff, and went in. At once an ugly old woman with a handful of ashes rushed at him, shouting, "You miserable yogi-beggars! In the summer you all show up begging for milk and butter! In the winter you all come for grain! I'll wager you wanted to sneak in to steal my daughter's and daughter-in-law's jewelry!"

Grumbling and trembling with rage, she was about to throw the ashes at Milarepa, when he said, "Wait a minute, Grandmother! Please listen to me!"

He then sang:

Grandmother, you are an angry woman,
Question your own thoughts and examine your mind.
Practice [the best of] the Buddha's teaching.

When you were first sent here,
Did you dream you would become an old nanny-goat?
In the morning you get up from bed,
In the evening you go to sleep,
In between, you do the endless housework;
You are engrossed in these three things.
Grandmother, you are the unpaid maid.

Question your own thought and examine your mind. Then things may be different for you.

The head of the family is the most important one,
Income and earnings are the next most longed-for things,
Then sons and nephews are wanted most.
By these three you are bound.
Grandmother, for yourself you have no share.

Question your own thought and examine your mind [if you can, so far as you can].
Grandmother, you are burned up with fury.

Gossip about other women and their manners is what interests you;
To talk of widows and relatives is your delight.

Grandmother, are you so gentle when you gossip?

To lift you from a chair is like pulling out a peg;
With feeble legs you waddle like a thieving goose;
Earth and stone seem to shatter when you drop into a seat;
Senile and clumsy is your body, Grandmother, you have no choice but to obey.

Question your own thought and examine your mind. From that you may find out how you have changed.

Your skin is creased with wrinkles;
Your bones stand out sharply from your shrunken flesh;
You are deaf, dumb, imbecile, eccentric, and tottering;
You are thrice defonned.
Grandmother, your ugly face is wrapped in wrinkles.

Your food and drink are cold and foul,
Grandmother, you are now a wretch,
half woman and half bitch!

Now, with fear and grief at heart,
You watch the time of death draw nigh.
Grandmother, can you face death with confidence?

Upon hearing this profound, melodious song, the old woman was so moved that she regretted what she had done to the Jetsun, and could not help shedding tears. [139-39, passim, and slightly modified.]

the event of a thread from Paul Octavious on Vimeo.