Madness… is just a sip away. Ode to concrete blonde.

After five or six or seven so called harmless in and of themselves.

God is a bullet. Have mercy on us everyone.

The silver drops of rain hanging from the trees.

All lies. or Omissions. Princess.

Mind is runnin on a wheel. Don’t know why.  Met the Queen of LA.

Graveside voices. Talking to me? No. Keep on Keep on Keep on.

Who am i to say? Master?

Nothing to gain and Less to lose.

What if? Princess X meets Princess Y and both bow to Queen B?

haha not on your life!

You have Nothing to gain and Everything to lose?

Stifling…Entrapment…Caged?

What if? /sigh — “don’t care, make it up.”

A comment. An offhand remark. Makes you lose reason. Angry.

Where are you then?

Can’t stand to be in the same house let alone the same room.

depressed? no. i am self righteous. i am indignant. i feel wronged.

i swear. i scream. but still nothing is nothing.. and being right. 

as in correct y’know? is all that matters? apparently.

hears? cares? listens? not on my life, princess. twisted? O yes, quite.

if a mother screams in the forest…

i’ve been runnin all this time.

not sexy enough? certainly that is not the issue.

sick and tired. running running running… what did you say? oh? i see.

apparently just not young enough… and not different enough… and, (/sigh)  not interesting enough… these i would concede to.

of every place i know… well… it’s just not enough i guess… no value in it.

deja vu. cosmic connection nevermore. runnin out of places to go.

everything i do. everything i say.

The downfall of the bad girl… no respect in it.

He wouldn’t treat anyone else this way.

Unless, of course, he was done with them as well.

About???

Matter of fact data seems rather absurd. I’m such and such age with such and such degrees working in such and such job? Nauseating.

I suppose I would characterize myself as a humanist with a strong educational background in both the arts and sciences. I am diverse in my interests which are in constant flux. I tend towards the arts through dance, music and art. Love symbolism of any kind. I like to dabble in ancient cultures/religions/occult from a purely intellectual interest as opposed to a practicing or engaging level. Probably psychometrics is the impetus there… not sure myself.

I enjoy wine (both red and white, love merlots regardless of recent bad press) and scotch (Glenfid or Glenlev is what I buy), like an occassional cosmopolitan or dirty martini when feeling fem or fru fru.

Most of the time, I’m more comfortable as one of the guys versus one of the girls. I like good food and good restaurants. I enjoy live performances of any kind; music, theater, etc. I play a decent game of pool. Like MMORPG’s. New to blogging.

I’ve done alot of interesting things and been in alot of interesting places at interesting times finding myself doing extraordinary things: if I were to elaborate, most would say ya right whatever and move on so I don’t bother with that anymore. Lets just say I have a great deal of experience in a very broad range of subjects and leave it at that.

I like to think I have an open mind but there are things that absolutely shut it. I like mischievious playful playmates but not devious ones. I enjoy being an exhibitionist when I’m drunk (I must, because that is usually the result lol. But I also like to share the attention and sometimes even to direct. I’ll let you figure that out.

I find that currently I’m interested in expanding my sexual tableau of tricks. A kind of “try it you’ll like it” kinda thing. But not interested in pain for obvious reasons… like “Ow! That hurts. No thanks.”

I have no adverse judgements toward those who pick thier poisons different from my own. I’m very lucky that mine just happen to be socially innocuous; alcohol, caffeine and chocolate are enough for me.

I’m interested in atmosphere, decadent and plush and comfortable – a “sink-into-me-aaaaaaaa-ah-that’s-nice” feeling. But not too nice. Can anyone say “room service?”

I don’t have any tattoos or “extra” piercings. Although there are times I would like to get some. Hasn’t been a priority for me to decorate myself in this manner as of yet.

I wouldn’t call myself deviant or eccentric but there have been those who have. I don’t believe in God/Gods but I reserve the right to change my mind. I certainly have second thoughts when I’m frightened or in danger. I believe in “something else” other than the purely biologic-chemical-physical, I think, but haven’t been able to put a name to it or been able to identify it as of yet.

I love intelligence combined with thoughtfulness or sensitivity; personalized and honest. Genuine. This I appreciate in others above all things… I like a sense of humor as well. Agendas drive me mad with disgust and are a cause of immediate dismissal. Life’s too short.  Ok… I’m tired of writing and I’m sure you are of reading for now… but that’s an intro of sorts. Nice to meet you if I do. 

Sonic Butterflies

The whole problem can be stated quite simply by asking,
“Is there a meaning to music?”
My answer would be “Yes.”
And “Can you state in so many words what the meaning is?”
My answer to that would be “No.” 
- Aaron Copland

Rippling through the crowd… one stops to enjoy the effect… euphoria?
Yet, not. I find myself “moved.”

Inspiration may be a form of superconsciousness,
or perhaps of subconsciousness – I wouldn’t know.
But I am sure it is the antithesis of self-consciousness.
- Aaron Copland

I assume others share this when they “experience” music that they relate
to for lack of a better way to say.
I often cry. Am I sad?
No… for me it is subliminal, unconscious and raw.
Well… at least most of the time.

I often feel the need to talk about the intensity of it…
like when one experiences…
an intense event.
This would be, for me, usually an emergency-type event.
I have seen quite a few.
Like the slow-motion, spinning, other-worldliness
of an automobile accident I had as a teen…
Or the absolutely horrifying, yet beautific majesty
I felt when driving a pumper
through the flames
in Oakland on my way to Lake Temescal…
Later dubbed “Firestorm.”

This almost always is pointless and not usually shareable.
I usually am left frustrated at my inability to convey the power
of the “it” string of moments.
But I offer it up as some lame attempt to at least illustrate the point.

The particular nuance that moved you and for what reason, I put forward,
is as personal as your set of experiences comingled with your genetic code.
Throw a little bit of how your brain has been hardwired
in response to chemicals, stimuli, etc.

Personal interpretation is not universal.
So why do we agree upon that which is liked?
My only thought is that it is a much larger branch
of the dichotomous aural tree than what,
in particular, I find compelling let alone anyone else.
For me it is sometimes pretty difficult to pin down.

“How powerful is you magic sound?”
– Mozart, The Magic Flute

It almost always is connected to finite application
- a moment in time captured -
But doesn’t have to be.
Some tones seem to resonate within my psyche
with very little connection to something literal.
I must confess that a voice is what usually draws me…
drags me down, into the deep muddy water of the font.
Not being “musically inclined” myself…
meaning – I only have my voice to recommend me -
no skill at this or that instrument – though there had been
a modicum of effort put forth as a child
to attain some kind of proficiency in one.

There is very little to grasp onto.
What words would make it more substantial? More concrete…
more explainable… more shareable?
It is ethereal, akin to magic – I ponder the “soulness” of humankind.

Soul:  the definitions are wordy and numerous.
Greater intellects than mine have had the courage
to put forth their opinions.

I think their intelligence begets the arrogance of fools.

And if not that, what is the biological function of so much emotive power?
What evolutionary purpose does it serve?
Is it attuned to our sense of Predation? Survival?
Is it simply the fine-tuned pounding chorus of our rushing
blood in our veins when we win?
Or the screaming of outrage at our pain and loss when we don’t.
Where do we place that?

The silence that follows, filled with the security of the living
or the triumph of victory? When the enemy is vanquished?
All punctuated by the beating of one’s organs and fluids
though the shell of our “it-ness.”

How could this be? I think I should accept that it could.
Ockham’s Razor be damned.
Still. I could think of worse…

 The Very Sense of “Being” something more… something greater.
Aware of the “Specialness” of each other… and of ourselves.
This is the realm of music I believe.
Creating and Imagining. Dreaming. Discovering. Feeling.

Of course, this is what the musician does…

But so does the listener… the audience… the subjects… if you will.
In one’s interpretation.

I am a mother (I dislike this word, mother. Sounds rigid and stiff. 
I so want to write Mommy with a capital “M”).
The wonder in a child’s eye is easy to recognize, by anyone,
but I’m fortunate to see it on a daily basis.
I have a tendency toward dance, as do my children.
The peace or happiness, and sometimes the very seriousness
that appears to me to be on their faces when they dance
leads me to believe that the magic is not an acquired sense of taste,
and yet, it is cerebral.

It often gives me a moment of pause and a sense of hope
that maybe we are more than the sum of our parts.