Oh yeah, here we go: Uncle Ted Nugent has come along to roll me out with that sexy summer-heat beat, and I feel much better even if “Stranglehold” does say it all. Add a little bourbon and it has me thinking of. . . . Never you mind what it has me thinking of. Let’s just say that a little more of some things wouldn’t hurt. In lieu of what I could really use, I have stocked my apartment with awesome amounts of chocolate, ice cream, cookies, booze, and flowers. Hey, I’m allowed one indulgence that isn’t bad for me.
All this evolution, yeah, I asked for it. Transitions are a bitch. You say you wanna be a star? Great! Now change your name, your hair, your clothes, your friends, the way you speak. Next get used to the peeps who know you - put that word in quotations because they haven’t known who you are for some time, but no one has bothered to notice - get used to them being unhappy or unnerved or simply impervious. The new people you know? They’re great, but they don’t know you. So you don’t know if they enjoy you or just want something from you. Real life or cyber life, it’s always hard to know for sure.
Am I famous? No. Am I on my way to becoming famous? Let’s just say that no reality show is calling me. So why am I using this little scenario? Honestly part of me wants to say that I have no idea, that it just came to me, but the fact is that I’m shifting so much in my life the famous thing is all that came to mind as an example-free explanation of how it feels to be here. I mean y’all don’t need a blow by blow of my life. (I heard that snigger. See if you get any more details now.) Mmm, Led Zeppelin v Black Sabbath singing “Whole Lotta Sabbath.” Perfect match: Whole Lotta Love with War Pigs. Yeah, that’s my life, too. Contradictory. Fucked up. Or Mash up. Your choice.
I’ve been walking through these changes for the better part of six months saying, “Fuck me!” It’s my new favorite way to swear and there has been so very much to swear about! Did you know that the Universe cannot tell when you’re being sarcastic? Tin ear, totally. “Bless me!” sounds beyond lame. However, “Fuck me!” is not having the desired effect. Seems I have quite literally been asking the Universe to give it to me in the ass, and no, I don’t mean that in a good way. Think prison sex. With hemorrhoids.
On that note, we arrive at Lunatic Calm. That’s actually the name of the band singing right now, “I wanna take you on a roller coaster.... I wanna push it right over the line,” but I think I’ll adopt the name for myself. It expresses both my feeling state - lunatic, absolutely - and what I remembered today as I talked with a friend about the shamanic work I’ve been doing. (Yes, I can work with a shaman and still swear like a longshoreman.) I forget what he was saying, I’m not sure I was paying attention, but then he said something that did me a V-8 slap. “Surrender!” that’s what I said, “I forgot about surrender.”
Surrender does not mean submission; it’s not about getting used to being fucked in the ass. Surrender means to give up, to abandon what cannot be held. Surrender is an altered state of grace - think the best part of sex - a realization that this river is going to run through you, like it or not, and the only thing that can make it harder than it already is is to resist. Lie on your back. Ride it to wherever it takes you; you’re going anyway.
On a gathering storm comes a tall handsome man
in a dusty black coat with a red right hand.
There won’t be a single thing you can do.
He’s a god. He’s man. He’s a ghost.
He’s a guru.
That doesn’t mean a damn thing. It’s just that Nick Cave and The Seeds started singing “Red Right Hand,” and I went with it. I mean the mash up is a kind of upside to the whole you-got-chocolate-in-my-peanut-butter scenario, only with music, right? What if I’m not screwed? What if my life isn’t a fuck up? What if it’s just a mash up? Let’s say Lunatic Calm v Lunatic Fringe. Yeah, that’s it! Now run along. If you were paying attention to the title, then you know that I said I had nothing to say tonight. And I don’t.
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