Oh Em Gee.

Stay tuned here. I've things to say but I'm not ready to say them just yet. I thought I was but, given our insane lives, I better hold off for a few more days.

Watch the skies.

Roadside America

Today we went to this crazy insane place up the way called Roadside America, where a man and his family created a 1600 square foot 'miniature village' with all kinds of madness going on. A major highlight is a ritual where the room is darkened to 'night' every half hour to show a slide show of Jesus while patriotic music plays.

The brainchild of Laurence Gieringer, he worked on it for 50+ years, and shows a sort of sanitized scatological history of America. Areas get more and more modern until Mr. Gieringer died in the 60's. So 196? is modern day in the large room.
It was awesome. Insane insane awesome. I wouldn't travel 2 hours to see it, but 40 minutes is cool. It wrecked areas of my brain while clean and sober, going there on drugs should be a right of passage or something. To make matters worse, I can get into detailed creation projects. I could be sucked into a downward spiral of miniaturized world building. My wife looked at me sideways with a 'don't even think about it' expression more than once. I too could build my own safe happy place where nobody can impose dirty dirty reality on my addled mind, then my descendants can charge folks to enter my world long after I'm dead.

It's worth those 6 bucks, all the way. The sign out front says 'Be prepared to see more than you expect', which is of course impossible - but a fun mental exercise none the less.

While there is a lot to sort of poke fun at from a jaded modern perspective - there is a lot more to truly marvel at and enjoy. It was a labor of love, and is a testament to a form of entertainment that is going extinct. It has brought joy to generations of people.

That said, oh to have been accompanied by a dwarf in a Godzilla costume!

Waterboarding for dummies

Drunken Word-Quilt Mock01

I'm soo fevered this PM... got 3/4 a bottle of Pinot Noir in me and
there will be more, but must not let the sleepy get into the mix.

Nothing like dinner of McDonald's quarter pounder, fries and wine for
supper at 10:3Opm.

Listening to The Kills - its good open windows night
driving music. The teens were teeming around the McDonalds and I know
half of them will be fucking each other tonight and its almost enough
to make me go out of my mind.

X was talking about me being alone tonight, with her coworkers
(x is having a sleepover with my parents, and X's in
Greensboro NC on business, in a ritzy motel)- they asked what I'd do -
- she said she suspected the wine rack would be diminished and as long
as I took the porn out of the VCR before she got back I could knock
myself out. Have I mentioned how much I love my wife?

six kinds of glue, won't hold you - go steal ahead
I'm getting down with the young drunk lovers, I'm getting down with it.


I'm in Mercury Hermes territory - a busy mind impeded only by waves of
fermented goodness, making all the monsters look a little more blunt
and obvious - - boosting my love and passion for stuff and making me
feel like my hands could keep working until dawn to produce pictures
and words that I would barely recognize later on...

BTW - does it get any more fucking awesome that I can put out a short
call in a couple of places and have some friends nearby... I'm goddamn
Professor Xavier - TO ME, MY X-MEN!!!


I wouldn't know what I was saying if I wasn't me, or somebody within a
70% shared interest bracket or so... greek/roman gods of information,
creativity, messagers of the gods - that the Mercury Hermes thing... I
don't remember what else I said.

A blue whale's dick is 6 feet long, I could
comfortably sleep in a female blue whale's vagina sleeping bag - and
have thought about it at some length (no pun intended, honestly).


okay - the Noir is kicked.. and now I'm looking at the frightening
option of "Rebel Red" a raped monkey ass option my dad gave to us as a
gift from a winery near Gettysburg where they sell gimmick named wines
supposed to invoke 'the tears of Gettysburg' and other such shite that
tourists should be fucked in the ear over. Its red, though - and that
color matches my last glass, so maybe it won't hurt me... its either
that or some dessert wine that isn't even an option unless I have a 6
course french dinner with fish, which I'll have in - oh, say - 12
years from now... 18? when X and I can afford to eat like the DINKs
we were for a solid 8 years before spawning our gene beings to emerge
from her womb to conquer the next generation, sporting flags of our
family line - - luck, wit, creativity, neurotic disfunction, and a
paralyzing sense that you make a difference in the world while bound
like Houdini and sinking in icy waters.
Did I mention that I'm drinking - and that I do it less that 4 times a
fucking year?

Now I'm worried about this Rebel Red stuff - for one, its totally a southern
slave owner name - second, its like eating
marachino cherries sweet (and there is no way in your mom's vagina
that I'm going to spell that correctly under the best of
circumstances) and I wanted to sleep on the porch under the stars with
dog heat in my sleeping bag... the sweet is going to attract
mosquitoes now, I think (with the head that won't shut up, because I'm
not dedicated enough to be Buddist which is where I totally belong
according to Joseph Campbell, who comes to mind because LG is here) -
they will smell the sugar in my blood and I'll have fucking bites on
my eye lids and look like John Merrick by the time the sun comes up.

where's Txxxx and Cxxxx... drunk Ron wants to talk to them.

Txxxx - I've told you that you have the distinct honor of being a
vehicle for the dead spirit of my friend, Bxxx - right? This isn't in
'real world' - it's in Ron's Ego head world... same thing to me, but
not everyone else.

Bxxx Bxxxxx. World worn magical wit of a woman - - spirit of a 7 year
old in the body of a 50-something - - she died from complications of
being a functional alcoholic for many year... so functional that NONE
of us knew it, not her best friends - - she couldn't get needed organ
transplants (liver, and something else?) due to her age (statistical
projection of the effectiveness of transplant) and continuing habit
(drink) that nobody even fucking knew about. She died without saying
goodbye - because she didn't want us all to learn about her addiction
on her death bed... she was shamed into silence, so she died alone
(with the significant exception of her husband and daughter). The
anniversary is about a week away... I'm soooo prone to memory based on
the seasons and calendar. She was the first person I called, outside
of family, when x was born. It really sucks.

So - Txxxx - you got your work cut out for you (just kidding in a
weird dark way that won't make conscious sense to me in a day or so).

I should absolutely get drunk with a cassette recorder on a regular
basis ( I mentioned gestalt therapy somewhere on the forums recently,
that's what I'm doing, my version at least... no - wait - I had posted
it, to Axxxxx's thread, then I deleted it, because most everyone on
the thread were idiots) - shitting this crap from my pores is such
fucking absolution for me, cause I'm really truly honestly good enough
a guy that I don't have a shit-load to account for, but the little I
do have makes me crazy. And when I say crazy - I mean crazy. Crazy is
NOT funny or romantic.

Rrrrrrr

abandoned while the flag is at full mast and the tank is full... will
move on to, what? more music.. can I slow down enough to read? not
bloody likely. possibly another FA bookmark, but it's too soon for
that.. got a good picture of our friend's kid at his birthday party
that I could make a kick ass portrait from - but its sooo nice and I
don't want nice at the moment. Need a way-back machine and access to
my school buddies and the international nanny school down the street
from the art school - lots of mixers between nannies with
fuck-to-the-moon accents and scraggly thin starving artists with the
light of the future in their souls waiting to be placed on paper with
graphite then ink then scanned and computer colored to languish on a
disk until some escaped into the public at large.

Slow dancing to fast music in a rented home - luau music on a snowy
January Thursday night with an overweight english girl as the
snowflakes go out of focus to become starshine circles under street
lights... move your cars, girls, they tow first and ask questions
later here in Dover, NJ.


At this point I am exactly the hairy mid-sized goblin pacing the
floorboards while everyone else engages in 15+ other real-worlds,
alone in an eddy in time - an unlikely tidal pool that forms when the
ocean moves in a way that it doesn't do under any moon but a blue one.
A mind that is scattered in the best of times is spread thin across
the cosmos trying to at least meet up in the milky way so there is
some kind of order but, the far spread stars are willow-the-wisps to
the fragmented me, each the best and the obvious choice - each far
from the other and in a world of its own.

so - how is this better, exactly? usually you just have sugar and
coffee - spunk and paranoia, tonight you have those plus the free
associated glut of archetypes as varied as the first 100 Hindu gods
that come to mind, while the others resent the neglect and sharpen
their teeth...

The pathetic moron calling for a long dead poodle (that he never
had) in the drunk tank, while the night shift play solitaire on their
screens, pausing only to write the highlights that may amuse their
wives, on post-it notes that are supposed to be for office use only.

The merits of being a chameleon:

If you had asked me in high school, I would have told you I was a misfit. I was that girl on the outskirts of everything that wanted to fit in, but just really didn't. Don't get me wrong... I had friends. Meghan and Lisa and I were inseparable pretty much from day one. As a trio, we surrounded ourselves with anyone who wanted to hang out. I can't speak for them, but I was certainly happy enough with whichever crowd of people we happened to attract that day. We were friends with the cheerleaders and jocks, the junkies, the preps and the posers. Many people would have called us the posers, I suppose.

We were also joiners. Myself, perhaps, more than the others: I was in Student Council, TREND, JAM and History Club, just to name a few. I also worked on sets and props for the Drama Club and was on the school paper (sophomore year) and yearbook staff (senior year). Senior year I was also a teacher's aide. To say I was a suck-up or a goody goody is putting it a bit mildly, if you want the truth.

I also worked while I was in high school. As soon as I turned 16 I put in an application at the movie theater that my family went to weekly. I handed the application directly to the general manager. He took me into the office for an interview and hired me on the spot. I started just a few days later behind the concession stand. After a few short months, they started training me in the box office and as an usher as well. Pretty soon, I was able to fill any spot they needed other than bartender (yeah, we had a bar... we were just that cool) or manager. Some of the managers even let me do parts of their jobs from time to time.

In college I guess you could say I mellowed out a bit. You'd be wrong, but you could say that.... I went away to school and moved into a suite-style dorm with a total of 8 other girls. Two of my suite-mates, Mindy and Jenny, were in a local sorority (Zeta Delta Tau). If you've been paying attention at all, you'll know that I wanted to become a Zeta too. Within days of being dropped off in a strange town, I had surrounded myself with a new group of friends that were both like and unlike the friends that I was used to. Zeta was the misfit group of the Greek system. We didn't fit the stereotype (either in looks or in bubbly personalities) and we didn't care. We were very active on the Campus Activities Board (the Student Council of the college set) and we had quite a social life with just about all of the fraternities on campus. We also did a lot of charity work (mostly for the American Diabetes Association).

I still visited Meg and Lisa on most weekends (they were at a school 3 hours away) which is when I met my husband (that's a story for another time).

I also still worked at the theater when I went home on breaks. Management had changed in my first year of college so I was, once more, the misfit. I did my best to blend in and was soon surrounded by a third group of friends. The theater friends were a rowdy bunch. We liked to party a lot and mostly hung out at Sean's house (Sean being one of the managers at the theater). One of our favorite party activities included getting completely wasted and watching old Muppet Show episodes.

At some point, the theater friends and some of the high school friends merged a bit. I don't remember which group initiated it but eventually we all wound up being part of the "cast" for The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the dollar show. I was prop-master, though they did occasionally have me stand in for Janet or Columbia in a couple scenes. We always went to Steak-N-Shake afterward (we tried Denny's but they were not very group friendly at the time) and generally a good time was had by all.

The point of all of this rambling, you might ask? In looking back at my life, I finally figured out that I was never a misfit at all. I was a chameleon... still am, actually. I want so badly to be included that I twist myself in order to fit into whatever group I happen to set my sights on.

Even as little as two months ago I thought that the real me was buried somewhere deep inside, never to be seen or heard from again. Now I believe that the real me is whatever you think I am, at least in part. I am a partier and a Mom... a hard-worker and an easy-going lazy sot... a conservative Catholic and free thinker... in bookworld I am a brat, a plastic pirate, a freak and a chatter.

I am all of these things.

I am me.

whats love got to do with it?

Some days I wake up and I love life. I think everything will eventually be ok. All things work out, blah blah blah. Some days I want to scream at everyone. I am talking about EVERYONE around me. I sit here and think, who do I really trust? Rely on and know that I can go to them about anything and know they will talk a good talk with me. I search my heart and sould and know that I can talk to nobody.
I am 26 years old. That is it. I am already to where I just don't want to deal with negativity because I have so much bubbling up from within I almost can't stand it. My mother is two faced beyond belief. She tells other people how much she loves her children and all this other bullshit, but she lies. She told me to my face I was never allowed to move back in. You know, like if I had trouble and I needed somewhere to go? Nope don't go to her. But since she defended my father for smacking the shit out of me for telling him to shut up, I really don't give a fuck what she has to say anyways. Yeah, and the time I threw ice (just ice, no water) on my brother and he choke slammed me and she defended him too. "Well he went to Iraq so he is going to have some issues with anger." Oh, I am sure the police would have agreed with you......what the fuck ever.
So I have always felt this calling. I am to suffer in this life. I understand that. I accept that I have to work to be happy. Ok, but now what? Which direction do I go? I am so lost and I feel like I am wasting time. Wasting a gift. I want to be at one with myself or whatever, but I feel like I have so much other crap hanging on me. Hell, I don't even allow myself to cry anymore.
I really wish I knew someone who did readings or was a psychic or something. That could give me a little guidance or some shit. Everyone is pushing me to get a job or something, and it's not feeling right. Something is wrong and I don't know what it is.
Ah, phooey.