Occam’s Razor: The simplest explanation for a phenomenon is most likely the correct explanation.
I was conceived the day Dave Matthews was born. When the angels assigned to him safely delivered him to earth, and went back up for their next assignment – me – they still had some Dave on their hands.
Rather than change it they simply ordained it to remain latent in me, psychologically and pathologically, for thirty years.
Saturday, October 18, 1997
Five minutes before I go to sleep, I’ve got you on my mind and Dave providing the soundtrack.
Spring sweet rhythm dance in my head
Slip into my lover’s hands
Kiss me won’t you kiss me now
And sleep I would inside your mouth
Don’t be us too shy
Knowing it’s no big surprise
That I will wait for you
I will wait for no one but you
Oh please lover lay down
Spend this time with me
Together share this smile
Lover lay down
Spend this time with me
Walk with me, walk with you
Hold my hand your hands
So much we have dreamed
And we were so much younger
Hard to explain that we are stronger
A million reasons life to deny
Let’s toss them away
See you and me
We lay down
Look, see, she and he
By my lover’s side
Together share this smile.
Lover lay down
Oh please, oh please
Please lover lay down. And you weep
Lover lay down
Cause it’s over
Lover lay down
Say love, say love, say love, say love
Could I love you
Could you love me
Darling it’s all the same
Till we dance away
Chasing me all around
Leading me all around
Leading me all around in circles.
The way this guy puts words to music really turns me on.
There’s another one called Say Goodbye. I’m not ready to say goodbye yet, but if it’s going to happen, then here’s how I’d like it to play out.
So here we are tonight
You and me together
The storm outside, the fire is bright
And in your eyes I see
What's on my mind
You've got me wild
Turned around inside
And then desire, see, is creeping
Up heavy inside here
And know you feel the same way
I do now
Now let's make this an evening
Lovers for a night, lovers for tonight
Stay here with me, love, tonight
Just for an evening
When we make
Our passion pictures
You and me twist up
Secret creatures
And we'll stay here
Tomorrow go back to being friends
Go back to being friends
But tonight let's be lovers,
We kiss and sweat
We'll turn this better thing
To the best
Of all we can offer,
Just a rogue kiss
Tangled tongues and lips,
See me this way
I'm turning and turning for you
Just tonight
Float away here with me
An evening just wait and see
But tomorrow go back to your man
I'm back to my world
And we're back to being friends
Wait and see me,
Tonight let's do this thing
All we are is wasting hours until the sun comes up it's all ours
On our way here
Tomorrow go back to being friends
Go back to being friends
Tonight let's be lovers, say you will
And hear me call, soft-spoken whispering love
A thing or two I have to say here
Tonight let's go all the way then
Love I'll see you,
Just for this evening
Let's strip down, trip out at this
One evening starts with a kiss
Run away
And tomorrow
Back to being friends
Lovers...love...lovers
Just for tonight, one night...
Love you
And tomorrow say goodbye
Thursday, August 5, 1999
What in the name of the night is going on
And why always when the sun goes down
When I can't see
The lights of the train coming straight for me.
How did you go so fast from there to here.
Last time I looked you were there on stage
Awash in the light of a mint rage
Just this side of the track
The leader of the pack.
Mesmerized I was
When I looked into those eyes.
No longer a face in the crowd
I slipped into a dark corner,
The night my shroud
Scanning the faces for that of a stranger
Then I felt the teeth sink in
Just as the train from Red Rocks rolled in.
Maybe the roar was mine
What on earth did I just find.
Some different kind of strong draw
Almost a pull
Like someone else's hands on the strings.
I shuddered and realized I liked how it felt
And wanted to see what else the night would bring
For it made a very sweet sound.
It mattered not when I looked around
That no one else could hear
But you, and just because you were so near my sounds
My spine tingled
I quiver as the fingers strum down
Racing pulse, my heart pounds.
Then as fast as it all began
The sun comes up and with it no mark on my skin
Nothing to prove the attack
No trace
Just me left to believe in
What happened by the track
At Union Place.
Sunday, May 20, 2001
If you cannot make yourself a good noise,
Tell me what you are doing here.
Give me the beat, boys, free my soul.
Fat Charlie the Archangel files for divorce.
He says, "well this will eat up a year of my life.
And then there's all that weight to be lost."
I dreamed I saw the knights in armor coming,
Saying something about the Queen.
She's a killer Queen.
Guaranteed to blow your mind.
I'd rather take a blow, at least then I would know.
Oh, all I want to know is how does the song go.
But baby, don't you break my heart slow.
All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go.
I know that I've been released
But I don't know to where.
Choose to chance the rapids, and dare to dance the tide.
I'm making up another world with you at my side.
Tell me on a Sunday, please. I beg you call the tune.
Anybody's choice. I can hear your voice.
I couldn't tell if anyone here was feeling the way I do.
But I'm lonely now, and I don't know how to get it back too good.
I'd blindly throw my faith
To the face
Of the next good thing that comes my way.
If there's an answer, it's just that it's just that way.
When you're looking for space.
You spend all your time waiting, for that second chance.
For the break that will make it okay.
There's always some reason, to feel not good enough.
And it's hard at the end of the day.
I need some distraction.
I'd like to write a book
About all of the places that I've been,
All the people I've known,
All the strangers I've met,
But I wouldn't know where to begin.
It's not the tales of Stephen King that I dread.
I need protection from the things in my head.
And when I leave this earth, I'll be with the angels standing.
I'll be out there waiting for my true companion.
You stopped and smiled at me, asked me if I cared to dance.
I fell in to your open arms, and I didn't stand a chance.
Were you lonely? Were you brave?
I guess the two are one in the same.
How 'bout you come and dance with me.
I put my hands around your neck. You wrapped your arms around me.
I've been thinking,
I've been thinking,
I've been thinking too much.
I just want to live now for a little while,
And cast my dreams to the wind.
Will you come with me.
Won't you come with me.
That good old a cappella sounds good to me.
And when my mind is free, you know that melody can move me.
The night is my companion, and solitude my guide.
Would I spend forever here, and not be satisfied.
Ain't it funny how you're walking through life
And it turns on a dime.
Looking over these bones I've thrown,
You can read into what ever you're needing to.
You're never alone
Cause you can put on the phones
And let the drummer tell your heart what to do.
Once I had a clue.
Now it's gone forever.
I was believing in you.
We've got these chains, hanging around our necks
People want to strangle us with them
Before we take our first breath.
You've got your ball, you've got your chain,
Tied to me tight, tie me up again.
She's every place I've never been.
She's making love on rainy nights,
She's a stroll through Christmas lights.
She's everything I want to do again.
If you need her, you should be there. Go home.
My body aches to breathe your breath.
Your words keep me alive.
And with just one touch of our fingers,
We could make our circuitry explode.
Sometimes at night,
When the cold winds moan,
In her long black veil she cries over my bones.
If all else fails, you can blame it on me.
And I would be the one to hold you down,
Kiss you so hard,
I'll take your breath away.
My head won't leave my head alone.
I can't stop this feeling, deep inside of me.
Boy, you just don't realize what you're doing to me.
I got it bad for you babe.
But I don't need a cure.
I'll just stay addicted and hope I can endure.
I like the way you hold me, every night for so long.
And I like the way you say my name,
In the middle of the night, while you are sleeping.
I just want to be beside you everywhere.
As long as we're together, I don't care.
You started something, can't you see.
That ever since we met you've had a hold on me.
No matter what you do, I only want to be with you.
Tell him that you're never going to leave him.
Tell him that you're always going to love him.
Tell him, tell him right now.
Look what has happened with just one kiss.
I never knew that I could be in love like this.
We held hands and laughed and we jumped in the water.
I hear universal laughter ringing out among the stars.
Saturday, March 1, 2003
Dave has announced his 2003 tour dates. Oh happy day. And yes, his message about Iraq does have a typo, but I'm willing to overlook a whole lot for Dave.
Sunday, May 25, 2003
Dave is singing Long Black Veil. I can hear this a hundred times in a row and enjoy it every time. I've only got the CD on now, but I've watched the Listener Supported concert on DVD enough times that I know all the images that go with the songs.
I can watch Dave sing this a thousand times just for the part at the end when he’s not even singing, but watching the lovely ladies sing. You can see his eyes twinkle with the devil in them. In a good way, of course.
June 7, 2003
He asked me what I'd do if I won a million dollars. I told him I'd take guitar lessons from Dave Matthews. And if there was any left, I’d fix my bathroom faucets.
July 14, 2003
I feel strangely compelled to print out the lyrics to the long version of Rapper's Delight.
Lyrics printing. Dryer finished. Dave coming through the speakers. One cup of coffee left.
September 19, 2003
Perhaps I'll get the harp back today.
I've got to be at work at 8:00 tonight. It's almost 11:00 now. I've got more laundry going, and Dave on.
September 28, 2003
Honey, honey, come and dance with me.
First load in the dryer. Last load in the washer. Dogs eating peaceably.
Creeping into my suspicion is that every day it grows more likely that Brett and the two Bruces are going to converge.
Dogs done eating. Both now are sleeping at my feet.
Dave's on. The bad Bruce said last night on the phone that Dave Matthews gave a free concert in Central Park this past week.
Um. Yeah. I know.
October 2, 2003
It was nice to wake up at 6:30 this morning feeling rested. Braves won. Series tied at one. No NL game today.
It's supposed to be just shy of 70 degrees today. I'll turn Dave on loud and clean up the house, then go outside when it's the warmest. I've got cleaning up to do in the mulch around the trees in the front yard. For some reason when men mow the lawn they think it's acceptable to blow the grass into the mulch. I don't know why this is.
I did a little raking in the back yard yesterday. Mostly just pushed stuff from one place to the next. I'll get out there today with the riding mower and bagger and do it right. I was just too happy to be playing in the yard yesterday. Made lots of work for myself just because I could.
October 6, 2003
I went outside. Finished mowing the back yard. Got up most of the leaves with the bagger. You should see the pile of grass and leaves over in the woods, all from one mowing of the yard. Holy cow. Huge pile. I cleaned off the patio, and put the stuff that has been sitting out for days, maybe weeks, in the shed. There is still a lot of little detail work to do, but at first glance, everything looks pretty good. I can see the dog now when he runs through the grass.
So I came inside and took a bath, and went in to work early to try to see Brett before he left. About 10 minutes before I was going to head out the door, the phone rang. I looked at caller ID. It was the bad Bruce . I pondered whether to answer it. I did.
He asked if he could come over. He had "stuff" for me.
I said what kind of stuff. He said birthday stuff.
“What? No you don't. “
“Yes, I do,” he said back.
“Oh my god. Well, I was just on my way in to work. How about I stop over there instead.”
He said that was fine. When I got there, he actually came out of the house and met me. Inside on the counter was a gift bag with red roses sticking out of the top of the bag. He handed me three cards. They were numbered. I couldn't get over the flowers in the gift bag. My hands hardly worked to open the cards. He said it was a card for every year he forgot my birthday.
He read my mind, or he’s reading my email somehow.
I opened all three. And was speechless. Then I opened the bag. He got me two pounds of coffee beans, a bag of Burt's Bees stuff, and Dave’s new CD.
It’s moments like that when the alphabet needs more letters.
October 8, 2003
I don't know what Ruby does to pass the time while we drive, but for me, well I had men on my mind. Dave of course on top. So to speak. And he can occupy some serious synapse time.
Some Devil was coming out of the speakers. I was safe though, in Ruby Slippers, and let the devil do his thing. It was some powerful stuff. It came with its own sunset.
I wondered how far I would drive before I turned around.
I briefly consult the oracle of Norah Jones. She said you're afraid each thing I do is just some evil scheme. I asked Dave again for inspiration. He said some devil, some angel, has got me. He said some devil's stuck inside me, and I cannot set it free.
I cast one more fleece and dial one more time. While I'm getting no answer, Dave says one last kiss, one on the lips, then I'll let you go.
And I thought about that last kiss.
After a moment of silence, Dave says to trouble get behind me now, trouble let me be. I point Ruby home.
October 12, 2003
And then I had two saved bitmaps on my desktop for use as wallpaper. Dave Matthews, and Brett in a white shirt.
October 13, 2003
Now I'm thinking that you did all you could when you said my love, take it slowly. Okay.
Well, that's what Dave is singing, anyway. Doesn't really have anything to do with the right here and right now, as it's a little before eight in the morning. Having a cup of coffee. Will be getting in the tub here shortly to get ready for work.
Yesterday … I came home, changed my clothes, turned Dave on loud, and started the laundry, paid bills, and cleaned the bathroom. It was after I finished cleaning the bathroom that I heard a car in my driveway. Then a voice at the gate. It was Bruce. He had just tried to call on my cell phone. Didn't expect to see my truck in the driveway just now.
I invited him in. Told him I was cleaning and had the music up. Couldn't hear the phone. He was on his way to get something to eat and wanted to know if I wanted to go.
We came back here, had a beer, and sat in the den and listened to Dave. He liked it. (Don't think I didn't notice this.) He took a seat on big chair. And settled right into it. And said how comfortable it was. I sat on the floor beside him. He said he thought Dave's words were sad.
“What?” I said, “no they are not.”
Then Dave started singing, "the world is blowing up, the world is caving in."
We looked at each other and laughed. But then I pointed out that it was in fact a happy song. “I love you oh so well, like a kid loves candy and fresh snow,” I sing to him, and say, “see, that’s happy.”
Thursday, October 16, 2003
Hello, my name is Angela, and I am addicted to Dave Matthews. Stay away from me with your 12-step programs.
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
Came home, noticing a pile of something in my front yard at the bottom of the front porch steps. Recognize it right away to be saw dust. Robert has been over and chopped and split the wood on the front porch. Oh happy day. There will be a fire in the fireplace tonight. I turned on Dave, lit some candles even though it was still pretty light out, opened all the windows, and started cleaning the house and doing the laundry.
October 30, 2003
The television in my domicile exists for the sole purpose of the Dave Matthews Listener Supported DVD.
November 4, 2003
She went in to turn on a DVD to watch while she ate. The CD she took out of the changer was Some Devil. She said, "I'm taking the one with the man on it, I'm putting it right here, so you can find it."
With all due reverence, I said, "That man is Dave Matthews."
November 5, 2003
I also see that I can pre-order Dave's Central Park DVD, and by doing so be entered into a contest for a chance to win two front-row seats to one of his concerts. Now that would rule. Of course I'm still planning to have him play my birthday one day.
November 9, 2003
After he left, I finally pre-ordered Dave's DVD. Considered ordering the CD, DVD, and T-shirt, but passed on that. Did, as planned, get entered to win two front-row tickets to one of his "…and friends" concert. Wouldn't that just rock. The release date is November 14th. I could have had it shipped to be delivered on that date, but didn't. It will get here when it gets here. And I'll watch it when it does. Put money on my watching it more than once. A day. For weeks.
November 14, 2003
So now it's 10:43. Today is the release date of Dave's Central Park CD and DVD. As I mentioned before I didn't pay extra for it to be shipped to be delivered today. Seems I recall thinking it will just have to get here when it gets here. The confirmation email said it would take 7 - 10 business days. If I were betting, I'd say it will be here within five. Just a guess. I don't care one way or the other.
November 18, 2003
Usually when I sit outside, I sit on my back patio. Today the front door was already open, so I went out there. It was 3:30 in the afternoon. I was watching nothing in particular, listening to everything when I heard the screeching. I knew that sound. In fact I know the sounds of many of the vehicles that traverse my street. It's just one of those things.
But it couldn't be. It's two hours early.
But it was. It was the mail truck. Couldn't see it yet, but it was there.
Huh. Today I came out to the front porch instead. Could it be so I would witness the miraculous feat of the mail arriving two hours early.
Well, that could be, but technically she's not early yet. I've seen her eat up two hours gabbing to the ladies with houses just before mine on her route. (Before you think I'm unfairly dissing the mail lady, ask me why she usually doesn't show up till 5:30 PM.)
I still can't see the truck, but I hear it stopping at the first mailbox. Screech, quiet, rev, screech, stop, turn. The truck will come into view on the turn. She'll make another right turn into a long driveway, rev, screech, stop, at mailbox two. It will be another right out of the driveway, where she'll screech and stop at mailboxes three and four out at the road. Then it's a right turn off that street onto my street. I'm the first box on my street. But the fifth today.
And why not. It's day five.
I still can't see the truck, but I can feel it. My new Dave Matthews DVD is on that truck.
How cool to be out here to watch it arrive.
I intently watch the mail truck come into view. It screeches. It stops. The driver reaches to her left. She leans to the right. She goes. She turns. She stops. She reaches. She leans. She goes. On it goes until she's passing the front of my house. She reaches left and then holds through the right turn. But I can tell by her rate of acceleration after the turn whether she's stopping at my house or not. I don't even have to wait for the screeching brakes.
They come anyway. She's stopping. She's leaning. The discount store circular gives way in the breeze, revealing a brown kraft-paper envelope.
Hello, Dave.
It should go without saying that everything stops when I get my hands on anything new from Dave Matthews. Dave moves me. To the mailbox. Which now holds a DVD, a music CD and a bumper sticker.
I open the mailbox door, reach inside, remove the contents, and tuck everything but the plain brown wrapper unceremoniously under my left armpit.
See, good things do come in small packages. And in plain brown wrappers.
Dave, the dog, and I all go inside.
I unwrap, read, recycle, and throw out.
Then carry the three discs into the den.
Which is painted chamois-tan.
To match the shirt on the man whose picture is on my computer desktop.
Custom-color forty-one, don’t you know.
A picture frame of sorts for the bitmap.
There’s only two people it could be.
And one guess all you’d really need.
If you were paying attention.
I pick up the remote.
I command the five disc CD/DVD player to open.
It turns itself on, then says hello.
The magazine ejects.
Disc one is Some Devil.
Disc two is the Listener Supported DVD.
Disc three is the second disc of Luther College.
Disc four is Busted Stuff.
Disc five is the first half of Live at Red Rocks.
Every one of them could make the case to stay.
I say I need three volunteers.
Some Devil actually takes a step back.
Gets caught on the long back veil
And thus takes Listener Supported back with him to Red Rocks.
Trouble, that one.
So the decision being made, I remove three CDs to make room for three. And command the thing to close, then to play, and then to repeat all. I was only compelled to hear it at just that moment, not see it. And with me, it's all about compulsions. So I intentionally kept the television off, turned the volume up on the speaker, and just let the music do its thing.
Tuesday in the Park with Dave.
Dave.
Thanks, Dave.
December 13, 2003
I'm thinking about the to-do list. Library. Recycling. Eternal dishes and laundry. Change oil in Ruby. Dust and vacuum. Today would be a good day to get the Christmas shopping done.
Carly Simon is singing, "angels gather 'round the harp, strumming on guitars…" Okay, she says, “around the hearth,” but I like it better with “harp.” That would also be a good thing to do today. Work on my harp Christmas song repertoire. "You don't have to be an angel to sing harmony, and you don't have to be a child to love the mystery…"
After listening to the next-to-last song on the previous CD, I skipped to the next disc, the Three Tenors. The first song happens to be my all-time favorite Christmas song, O Holy Night. I've got several versions of it. Their rendition is not my all-time favorite, but it is beautiful nonetheless. Seems to me I've got another Christmas CD that missed my eye on the first pass through. I found four right off, and those were what got put in the player. Only temporarily displacing Dave of course.
December 16, 2003
Dear Santa:
How are you doing. Good, I hope. I’m sure you’re really busy with the folks who insist on having their stuff Christmas Day, and since I’m not in that big of a hurry, please feel free to tend to them, and put this letter on top of the stack for next year.
I only have a few things on my list.
A refill (black) for my Mont Blanc pen.
Faucets that don’t leak.
And for my birthday to sit in the front row at an intimate acoustic Dave concert, and get at least a picture with him afterwards. Please very much. Thanks very much. It’s on a Friday. But Saturday or Thursday would be fine also. In fact Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Sunday are also good. In fact it doesn't even have to be in October. Or even in the fall. You know what, how about you just see what day he's got time available and put me down in pen for then.
Name the city. I’ll be there.
Give me a date I don’t care which one
Or where
I’m supposed to be
I’ll cancel whatever I had planned.
I’m the number of one fan
Of the front man for the Dave Matthews Band.
The faucets and the pen refill can wait until next year if you find yourself pressed for time.
Monday, January 5, 2004
Being the Dave Matthews fan I am, as a preemptive measure, I added Daves and Matthews to the list. I just can’t take any chances. Besides, the Ds and Ms are already close to fouling out. Thanks to one Green Beret, and one Navy SEAL, all special forces are also on thin ice.
Thursday, March 18, 2004
Pondring Dave Matthews. Not that this is an atypical situation of course. But this morning I’ve got it particularly bad. I just realized that on the surface I’d probably have a hard time convincing him I was even a fan. I’ve never posted a message on any message board about him. I am not a member of the warehouse. I’ve been to exactly one of his concerts. (I did get two T-shirts there however.)
Nevertheless, the facts of the case are these. Dave has logged more space and time being piped into my ears than any other artist on earth. He is the single reason I have a television set. He has a roped-off area, so to speak, in my music collection. On the all-time list, he’s tied with coffee and baseball. Enough said.
Friday, March 19, 2004
So to speak. That’s the title that ran through my head. Because just about everything I say I have to qualify with the phrase, so to speak. Because I’m constantly playing with words.
Yesterday when I was hungry and turned off the computers I figure it was about noon. I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the house, dusting, washing dishes, sweeping the kitchen floor, putting away laundry.
Dave was in all five of the CD spots. And still is this morning. It’s 9:06 AM. And Long Black Veil is playing.
I’d been in the arms of my best friend’s wife.
Under all circumstances I can think of, that would make me a lesbian. My childhood best friend is a lesbian. Therefore, her wife is a woman. My other best friends are all heterosexual guys. Their wives are also women. Nevertheless, there are plenty of other lines in the song I can relate to. (Yes of course I know it’s a Bob Dylan song.)
Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows, but me.
I can scarcely recall what my life was like before Dave Matthews.
Monday, March 22, 2004
So I was stalling, because I had a lot on my mind.
So much that I didn’t know where to start.
Dave wasn’t much help, leading me all around in circles.
Won’t be the first time that has happened.
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Baseball came in 1991.
Dave and Bruce showed up in 1997. Just as I started over for the first time. Dave and Bruce are the only two men that have been here the whole time.
Back to now, 2004. I have the wash machine going. And Dave on loud.
Here and now. It’s 12:28 PM. The wash machine is in fact done spinning.
Dave’s voice is echoing in my head. I’m dizzy from all this spinning.
That’s just the echo. What’s actually playing is Warehouse.
Here and now.
How could this rhythm ever quit, bags packed, on a plane.
12:48 PM. He said he would call early afternoon. I think I’ve waited patiently until now to bring it up, because technically, early afternoon started some 47 minutes ago.
I wonder what time early afternoon is officially over. If afternoon runs from noon until six, which is, I believe officially evening, then would one take half the time between the two times and say early and late afternoon? Or must one divide by thirds, and thus have early, mid, and late. Either way, I guess he’ll call before three. Which means potentially two more hours on pins and needles.
Because today we are actually discussing the big day. Like the details. Who wouldn’t be excited.
I need more.
I’m going over my borders.
It’s going to take more from you, letter by letter.
Now that you’ve seen your true reflections,
What on earth are you going to do.
Find some inspiration.
You’re whole life is ahead of you.
Remember the times you went out with the boys now.
I digress. Where was I. Oh, yes. Remembering the boys. Bruce, and Dave.
I’m in your situation, your whole life is ahead of you.
Again.
Lots of agains with Dave. Just is.
I’ll blindly throw my faith, to the face, of the next good thing that comes my way.
But you see, I haven’t had to do that, Dave. I haven’t had to compromise. Why don’t you sing me a song about finding out what you’re all about, and doing it without compromising on any of the big things. Sing me a song about that.
You and me, just wasting time.
That’s Dave’s response. Timely. As if it could be anything else. Sounds like, “could I have been somebody other than me.” Also timely.
And infinitely answerable. The answer is no. Given all the facts, all the history, literal and figurative artifacts, all the lessons, all the experiences, all the men, all the places I’ve been, all the people I love, every sequenced step on every path, given it all, no, there is nobody else I could have been other than me.
Saturday, November 13, 2004
Dasher woke me up at 12:30 this morning, and again a little after 5:00 to go outside. She settled right back down the first time, but the second time just wanted to stay up and play.
I, therefore, have coffee within reach, laptop on lap, one dog sleeping on one side of me, other dog sprawled out on the floor on the other side of me. And a problem, it would seem, with the power plug going into the back of the laptop. As long as I’m still, it stays plugged in. If I move even a little bit, the connection breaks. And it takes about 5 minutes to get it right again.
So I have to be very still. Which is easy when I’ve got a full cup of coffee and two sleeping dogs.
Two more pages will make another hundred. Added to what I’ve already got makes five hundred. Give or take. And that’s without all the appendices.
Five hundred pages. You’d think that would be enough to choose from.
But what stories out of that do I want to tell.
Maybe the Holiday Reports.
Definitely Dave. Speaking of which, should turn on The Gorge.
And there’s an emptiness inside her.
And she’ll do anything to fill it in
And though it’s red blood bleeding from her now
Feels like cold blue ice in her heart.
She feels like kicking out all the windows.
And setting fire to this life.
She could change everything about her
Using colors bold and bright.
But all the colors mix together to gray.
And it breaks her heart.
She thinks, we look at each other.
Wondering what the other is thinking.
But we never say a thing.
And all these crimes between us grow deeper.
10:46 AM. Soggy time is feeling good this morning.
Isn’t it strange how we move our lives for another day.
It’s like skipping a beat.
What if a great wave should wash us all away.
Just thinking out loud.
As expected, the dogs got up when I got up to get another cup of coffee. But they settled right back down. Dave must soothe them like he soothes me. At any rate, I’m looking at Dasher lying on the floor. She is going to be an absolutely massive dog. She is gorgeous though. She’s got the glossiest black coat.
Probably time to register her. Her AKC name is Shea’s Shadow Dasher. People hear the name and think she was named after the reindeer. Just like they hear Kama’s name and think it refers to the punctuation mark.
Love, love love, what more is there.
Look, here are we, on this starry night, staring into space, and I must say…
Don’t throw the day away.
My heart was made of broken bones. My soul a bag of sticks and stones.
You along this dusty road, have come my love to take me home.
I give to you my everything.
Cause you’ve giving me these loving wings.
Angels have all gathered ‘round. To hear me sing my love out loud.
Dave, Dave, Dave. You’re always right there when I need you.
This tiny little song is the song I want played at my wedding.
In the South Pacific.
Next post post-season.
Not at all surprised.
That makes it 2005.
It would have to be five.
And the bride just might wear red.
Saturday, November 20, 2004
Forgive Me, Dave Matthews
Round, tis the nature of rings.
Round and round tis the nature of pondring.
Round and round she goes.
To stop on red, this for sure we know.
It's a ring. No matter where you begin.
Or where you are going.
You see the full circle before you get back
But you always get back.
To the beginning. Never really a beginning at all.
Because such is the nature of rings.
It's just where you chose to start.
One could start now, start here.
Head east, head west, no matter.
Start north, head south, or not start at all
On the geographical ring.
Plenty more to pondring.
Such as beautiful hands.
At just this moment, those of Dave on the DVD
Specifically, ironically
Forty-one seconds at the gorge.
Unbearably sexy.
And I don't say that a lot.
Alright, I do. But just about Dave.
Constantly, in fact.
But quietly.
Words, words, words.
Forgive me, Dave.
But you inspire me in funny ways.
Burn the days with your words in my head.
Words, words, words, have you heard.
A word in hand is better than any number free to ponder.
Forgive me Dave, for that and more.
For being lost at Red Rocks.
And just about every place else at least once.
Who can explain.
But as you say, it's strange
How we move our lives.
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Maybe others. All saying they want me to stay.
Stay.
What would you say, Dave.
Talk to me.
Let’s go under the table and dream.
For whatever reason, I looked at the old CD changer magazines on top of the television and decided it was time to throw them out. I moved everything out of them, into individual sleeves.
Two, out of twenty-two, were not Dave.
Two’s a perfect number, but one…well, everybody’s happy.
It’s a typical situation in these typical times.
Too many choices.
We can’t do a thing about it.
Pay your dues, and your debts.
You pay for what you get.
Words, words, words.
Have you heard a bird in hand is better than any number free to wander.
Fly away.
Stay.
We’re back to the stay thing, Dave. You keep leading me all around in circles.
Everybody asks me how she’s doing.
Thursday, November 25, 2004
Pondring lots this morning. Drinking coffee, making plans to change the world.
We're back to the stay thing. Stay or leave. What would you say, Dave.
Stay or leave, I want you not to go.
But you should.
(That's not really a lot of help.)
It was good, as good goes.
Stay or leave, I want you not to go.
But you did.
(Okay then. The decision is made.)
Cold wet stone, river deep and red.
Your cold heart beats inside my head.
You know too well it was me that brought you here.
Trouble get behind me now.
Trouble let me be.
Here I stand, head bowed for thee.
My empty heart begs you leave me be.
Pray your mercy give to me.
Trouble, get behind me now.
Trouble, let me be.
Moving on, to Chapter Three.
Thursday, December 2, 2004
It’s Dave.
At the Gorge.
With coffee.
Friday, February 25, 2005
It was almost a tragic morning, musically speaking. The DVD player ate my Listener Supported disc. I panicked, then composed myself. I asked nicely first, then shook the hell out of the player until it gave Dave back.
Bad CD player.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Run to your dreaming, when you're alone
Recently I've been all of contented,
Dreaming, I have been
So singeth Dave Matthews.
People who know me to any degree know of my Dave Matthews habit. Yesterday was an all Dave all the time sort of day. Truth be told, it's been an all Dave all the time sort of month. Well, since the 4th, when I got his new CD. Can't get enough of the man. So I got Dave on the brain anyway. Then last night, with a cup of hot tea, a blazing fire, and Dave, I sat down to go through my old letter drawer. And came across one in which I described, in pretty shady detail, a particular fantasy of mine.
Swing, in this tree
We're strange allies, with warring hearts
What a wild-eyed beast you be
So this morning I'm engaging in said fantasy with, none other than Dave Matthews.
She and me go to places quiet, where we are quite alone
So here we are tonight, you and me together
With the storm outside, and the fire bright.
And in your eyes, I see what's on my mind
And, owing to a bit of psychosomatic good fortune, I am a lucid dreamer.
Hear me call, soft-spoken... whispering now
I was exhausted when I got out of bed, in a next best thing to being there kind of way.
Run to your dreaming, when you're alone.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Shea and I were driving down the road yesterday on our way for pedicures. Out of the blue she asked me whether I remembered the giant stuffed elephant at FAO Schwarz in New York City last Christmas.
"You know, the one for fifteen thousand dollars?" Shea says.
"Yes, I do remember that."
She said a person would have to have a half-a-million dollar house probably to have something like that. I told her that there were lots of really rich people in New York City.
"You mean like celebrities?" she asks.
"Yep."
"Do you ever see any celebrities?"
"No, I can't say that I have. But that's okay. There aren't really any I'd like to meet. Well, maybe one."
"Let me guess. Dave Matthews."
"Uh-huh."
Only now when I was putting the title on the entry here I realize that my sister said those exact same words when the two of us were driving somewhere over Easter. She had a CD (from our high school days) with her, and hit the eject button on the dash. Out popped a black CD with no title on it.
"Let me guess..."
Thursday, July 28, 2005
I was re-reading some posts I had even forgotten were here.
I stopped myself in my tracks. Funny how one's own words can do that. But there it was, in black and white.
I was an idiot. Officially it became public record in April 2003. How could I have honestly believed there was a man out there more attractive than Dave.
It's not true. I'm sorry Dave.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Last night Shea and I were sitting on the sofa looking up things on the internet for a school project. Shea noticed all the windows I had open on the computer, and saw one titled "Runaway Bay." She said, "did you write a story about Runaway Bay?" I said yes.
She said, "You sure do write lots of stories. You should put them all together into a book and publish it."
I told her that was a great idea.
I didn't tell her that I can hardly figure out what to say about myself in a profile paragraph. How on earth would I figure out what to put in the book.
So much to say, huh Dave. Don't guess I'm quite ready to step into the light.
Monday, February 6, 2006
So I’m giving this profile more thought. Pondring what it should include.
Because pondring is what I do.
But you already know what I look like.
You know every place I’ve been since the early nineties (give or take 10,000 miles). (Although maybe you didn’t know that’s what you were reading.)
You know my Christmas cards are actually Holiday Reports, and are usually not done by Christmas.
You know I love to play with words. You know my favorite color. My favorite food.
You know I’m a vegetarian.
You know I can’t cook.
You know that despite being a stickler for proper punctuation, grammar, and spelling, I don’t check anything I write for any of those.
And you know that for me, some things just is.
Sheaness is.
October is.
Dave Matthews is.
Coffee is.
Baseball is.
Pondring is.
Tuesday, May 9, 2006
Normally, I have some idea what I'm going to write when I hit the pondring icon on my desktop.
Today is not a normal day. Well, I should say tonight is not a normal night. Although I'd have to be pretty specific with my definition of normal. Because as nights go, it's absolutely normal. As my nights go, it's also mostly normal. Only difference really is what I'm doing on the laptop.
Because normally when I get home, I change my clothes, take care of any household crap, then work until bed.
But as I started work a little after six this morning, I thought I'd take the night off. And ponder.
So when I got home, I changed my clothes, did absolutely no household crap, and sat down with the laptop.
So here we are.
Tonight.
You and me together.
Pondring. In its purest sense. Which is to say with no particular place in mind to go.
In my mind I'm going to Carolina. In reality I go there on Friday. Can't help but look forward to that.
It's funny how people take me sometimes. Lots of folks here say to me, "so where are you from?"
I've got to come up with some alternate response than the deer-in-headlights look.
I don't know how to answer them.
If I say I'm from South Carolina, they inevitably say, "well you don't sound like you're from there."
To which I feel compelled to reply that I was born in Minnesota.
Which invariably invokes the "ah well that explains your lack of accent," comment.
Except that I only lived there until I was two.
If the conversation continues, the fact that I moved from Minnesota to South Dakota, to Chicago and then to South Carolina comes out.
Then I say, "no, my dad wasn't in the military." Which is a lie, but dammit until people start asking questions they really want the answers to, I'll have to answer the question I know they are asking. My dad was in the Navy. But it wasn't with the Navy that he was transferred.
And that is what they are asking.
So there you go.
Where I go when I have no particular point in mind.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
I am thankful that my niece, who was in a car accident yesterday, is okay. I am thankful for seatbelts. And airbags.
I am thankful that I am part of the world's greatest family. I am thankful for our early Thanksgiving dinner this past Sunday, and for the many beautiful moments in that day.
I am thankful for Sheaness - my stunning straight-A black belt princess who plays the guitar like a rock star.
I am thankful for my friends.
I'm thankful for my ex-husband.
And for field trips. And pets. And coffee. And nice paper. And Dave Matthews.
And for pondring.
Friday, March 16, 2007
To the tune of Crash. Inspired by the lady who was beside me on the road yesterday morning, driving her minivan and reading a novel at the same time.
You’ve got your phone,
You’ve got your XM
Tied to you tight while you’re driving again
Who’s got their mind
On something else
Traffic has stopped,
But you’re reading as well
Why don’t you keep your eyes on the road
Too fast for conditions
But you don’t know.
In front of you, I’m so in front of you.
So you will crash into me.
Touched your lips or so it seems
Mascara too, on your lashes gleams
You’re crazy, and I’m laffin, at you.
For running in to me.
Hands too slick on the wheel
From the hand cream.
Maybe.
But you still crashed in to me.
Back up your car a little more.
And set my bumper free
Back up your car a little more.
Then give your insurance card to me.
Oh, I watch you there
Through the window
And I stare at you.
You say nothing
And that’s just as well
Could you have been any more tied up
Now we’re twisted up you see
For you, you crashed in to me.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
She published a book a year ago, which I just got around to reading two weeks ago. I can't say that anywhere in my perusing her blog did I ever get the impression she didn't like Dave Matthews. But he got an asterisk in the text, and footnote in the book.
In my book, he's the text. Everything else is a footnote.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
1) Do you talk in your sleep?
Yes, and often wake myself up by doing so. (I also snore, but for some reason that doesn't wake me up.)
2) Red jello, or blue jello?
Red.
3) What's on your nerves right now?
Uh, nothing really.
4) What's your favorite color?
Red.
5) Window or aisle seat?
Aisles in coach. Windows in first.
6) Ever met anyone famous?
(I'm going to say that the use of famous here would have to equate to something like a "strong keep" recommendation on Wikipedia. (Have you ever read their discussions on whether something stays or goes? I found it fascinating. Definitely cunctatable.))
He wasn't famous then, but I used to give Orlando Jones rides home from high school. I consider Jeremy Jackman (formerly of the King's Singers) a personal friend, and I met Guillermo Davila (singer and soap opera star in Venezuela) in, well, Venezuela. Norman Adami is not in Wikipedia (although he probably should be), and I know him.
I had my picture taken with the lead singer from America. While he's certainly famous, I'm not sure that simply getting a picture taken with someone qualifies as "met."
There might be others, but that's all I've got at the moment.
7) Do you feel you've had a successful life?
Absolutely.
8) Do you twirl your spaghetti or cut it?
Twirl.
9) Dr. Phil or Oprah?
I would prefer to be on Oprah because she has chosen my book for her book club, but I am more likely to be on Dr. Phil when he does his show on Women Who are Obsessed with Rock Stars.
10) Basketball or football?
Okay, now I've got something on my nerves. Namely, why baseball isn't one of my choices. For me, it's all MLB.
11) How long do your showers last?
Now on my nerves, questions that are not rightly put. If this is to ask the actual water running time, about 10 minutes. If it is the entire ablution process (from zero to out the door), about half an hour.
12) Do you know how to drive a stick?
Yes.
13) Personality or looks?
Yes.
14) Are you self-conscious?
At times.
15) Have you ever given money to a beggar?
Yes.
16) Can you jog 5k without stopping?
No.
17) Where do you wish you were right now?
In Rome, on my way to Bora Bora.
18) Have you ever ridden in an ambulance?
Yes.
19) Can you tango?
With a short refresher, yes. (Sounds cool, until I tell you that I, like millions of others, signed up for dance lessons after the movie Dirty Dancing came out. If I had to now, I could cha-cha, waltz, and rumba. And since I'm speaking strictly ballroom, I'll say I can also shag and swing.)
20) The last gift you received?
Two on-time flights home yesterday with exit row aisle seats.
21) Last sport you played?
Define sport.
22) Things you spend a lot of money on.
Things to put other things in, and office supplies.
23) Last gift you gave?
I bought Bill new laundry baskets, and Shea a little windowsill sunflower thing.
24) Favorate place to eat?
What city am I in?
Fort Worth? Cabos. Chicago? Gibson's. Milwaukee? Bosley on Brady. Greenville? Royal Thai. New York? Yes.
25) Can you sing?
No. I can't whistle either. In fact I can barely hum on key if you want to know the truth.
26) Last text message or email to/from?
Bruce .
27) Least favorite chore?
Squishing bugs.
28) Favorite drink?
What time of day is it? If it's before ten, then coffee. After coffee but before dinner? Water. For adult beverages, I like Sparks in the orange can. Before bed I drink rooibos tea.
29) Do you miss someone?
Many someones.
30) Ever come close to dying?
Yes.
31) Are you drinking anything?
Coffee.
32) Are you eating?
No.
33) Do you eat the stems off broccoli?
Yes. I also eat the skins of potatos, apples, and kiwi.
34) Do you eat fish?
No. (I'm a lacto-ovo vegetarian. Have been since 1991.)
35) Do you wear makeup?
Yes.
36) What do you wear to bed?
Something that the What Not To Wear folks would not approve of.
37) What kind of sneakers do you wear?
I'm really more of a Birkenstock sort of girl. But the sneakers I own are Nike Air.
38) Current annoyance?
The next question.
39) Did you/do you watch Pokemon or Dragonball Z?
To answer the question outright, I can barely spell Pokemon, and have no idea what Dragonball Z is. In a larger sense, pretty much anything that comes after "do you watch", for me, is no.
40) Do you sleep with stuffed animals?
(Will resist urge to interpret oddly.) No.
41) If you won the lottery, what would you do first?
Book Dave Matthews for my 40th birthday party.
42) Silver or gold?
Yes. Platinum and diamonds are also nice words.
43) Hamburger or hotdog?
See 34.
44) Do you prefer city, beach, or country?
I'd have to say I'm a water girl at heart, but can find most any place appealing in some regard.
45) Where were you an hour ago?
Right here.
46) Where will you be in an hour?
Getting ready to go have brunch with my friend Tracy.
47) Dogs or cats?
Currently I have two dogs, but like cats too.
48) Last thing you bought online?
A Prada handbag.
49) Last thing you read?
Baseball Digest.
50) How long did it take you to write this?
Actual typing time, about six minutes. Total clock time including copious amounts of pondring, about five hours.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
People can be proud of their cities, I know. And I know folks are being hospitable when they name things I've got to see while I'm in the area. Or restaurants I've got to try. Or where the best shopping is. Or the good bars.
Honestly though, I rarely venture out when I travel. The travel itself is the venture. After eight hours of being on my game so to speak, and in a job that requires a huge amount of interaction with people I do not know, of all skill levels and backgrounds, I tend not to feel sociable into the evening. I seek solitude.
Bars are not my thing. At home or on the road.
As for the shopping, I don't like to shop. Do so only when I need something. Rarely ever need anything beyond toothpaste on the road, and that I can get from the hotel front desk.
And unless it's a major league baseball game or Dave in concert, I've probably got at least three books with me I'd rather be reading. (That, and I've probably already seen it.)
And as for eating out, well that's no treat. It's more of a chore. Unless you specifically mention tofu Pad Thai, and it happens to be on my way back to my hotel, I'll probably eat cereal for dinner. And be totally fine with it. Tonight, and tomorrow night, and the next night.
Which for no reason has reminded me of what I think is a very funny story.
Totally true. I had gone out with a guy a couple of times. (To dinner - his idea of a fun evening out. He had two strikes.) One evening we made plans to fix dinner at my place and watch a ball game. We met at the grocery store after work. Which of course was the first (and only time) we shopped together.
Salad and pasta. How hard could it be. Besides, he was doing all the cooking. His choice. I made it very clear up front that I do not cook.
So I'm in the den watching the ball game, but can see and hear him in the kitchen. Occasionally he asks where a pot or pan or bowl is, but basically he finds his way around well enough.
Dinner is good, and Chicago was winning when he said he would clean up after dinner too.
I said okay. After a few minutes he asked where I keep my Tupperware. I said I didn't have any.
He asked me how I could not have Tupperware. He didn't wait for an answer. He just asked me what he was supposed to put the leftovers in.
I said into the trash.
He asked why.
I said well, I don't have any way to send them home with you, and I don't eat leftovers.
He asked how could I not eat leftovers.
I said I just don't.
He asked what I do with all the food I cook that I don't eat.
I said I don't cook.
Friday, February 1, 2008
You may think I'm making this up, but I'm not.
After hitting submit on that last post, I got in my rental car, and drove up to the convenience store. When I started the car, Dave was singing, "all you need is love."
Look it up. Station 103.5 at about 3:15 PM.
Which is partially why I can say, that in the realm of the all-times, here are the lyrics to my favorite song. I don't know for a fact, but I'm guessing Dave is cool with it. He's got me oh so many other ways.
John Denver - Looking for Space
On the road of experience
I'm trying to find my own way
Sometimes I wish that I could fly away.
When I think that I'm moving
Suddenly things stand still
I'm afraid 'cause I think they always will.
And I'm looking for space
And to find out who I am
And I'm looking to know and understand.
It's a sweet, sweet, dream.
Sometimes I'm almost there.
Sometimes I fly like an eagle.
Sometimes I'm deep in despair.
All alone in the universe
Sometimes that's how it feels.
I get lost in the sadness and the screams.
Then I look in the center
Suddenly everything's clear.
I find myself in the sunshine and my dreams.
And I'm looking for space
And to find out who I am.
And I'm looking to know and understand.
It's a sweet, sweet dream.
Sometimes I'm almost there.
Sometimes I fly like an eagle.
Sometimes I'm deep in despair.
On the road of experience
Join in the living day
If there's an answer it's just that
It's just that way
When you're looking for space
And to find out who you are.
When you're looking to try and reach the stars.
I first heard the song Leaving on a Jet Plane when I was five. He had me from then, until he died four days after my 30th birthday.
Dave picked up the torch from there.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
I have a detached structure in my back yard.
It could be called a workshop, it could be called garage B, but is more like a small house with a roll-up door.
It's probably 20' x 30' with a high pitched roof and more than enough space (not to mention existing framing) for a second story.
Either way it has been christened the Satellite Castle.
Which of course begs the question...
An answer for which I do not have yet.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Hey my friend it seems your eyes are troubled. Care to share your time with me? Would you say you're feeling low? And so a good idea would be to get it off your mind.
Dave, Dave, Dave. A prelude to an entire evening in a verse.
I love you, man.
So I did. I got it off my mind.
And he said, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Then before I could shake my head he asked again, more slowly, and if possible, with even more disbelief in his voice, “are…you…fucking…kidding…me. Who does that?”
And now that some time has passed, I can tell the story.
The he in question asking me this was a story all by himself. Many years younger than me, obscenely good looking, single, professional, and a very stylish dresser.
We were leaning on the railing of an outdoor balcony in a really nice hotel. How we got to be there was a story all by itself too. (He and I leaning – not the physics of getting to the hotel.) My girlfriends, sisters from different mothers, had been with me earlier in the evening (along with about 200 of our closest coworkers and managers) to see my long-term relationship with a man (one of the 200 present) implode. Maybe it was explode. Either way, there was a plode involved. (And that word is now (C) 2008 Me.)
And it would just be an understatement to say that it (the aforementioned plode, you're going to have to pay attention here) caught me off guard.
So my girlfriends rallied around me, deciding I need some distraction. And chose one of the single guys from the crowd as my date for the evening.
No half measures there.
First he should look like a GQ model. Check.
And be totally single and unattached. Check.
And be dressed to the nines, in that model-way. Check.
And be half my age, or there about, please and thank you.
Check. And you’re welcome.
I’ll tell you what I was telepathing to my BFFs and it just about rhymes with are you fucking kidding me: I’m 40, and have just been unceremoniously dismissed by a short, fat, bald man, and you taunt me with the eye candy.
And of course my potential date had an entire arsenal of responses which I’m sure in his young life he has used countless times to fend off ladies: he had plans; it was packing night; he had gone out the night before and wanted an early evening; not no but hell no you’re old; and the now infamous, AYFKM.
Did he use a one of them? Nope, he declared me and my outfit amazing, and took my hand for the rest of the evening.
This thusly began for us on the balcony. Where I got it off my mind. He learned why my girlfriends figured I might need some distraction and general looking-after at that particular moment in history.
And you already know his response.
Was there anything that could be done? No. Then make the best of what’s around.
Let’s see, short fat bald guy avoiding me like Dengue fever, or, um totally the opposite of that standing right there with me holding my hand.
You may already expect that Dave’s got the resolution.
Well she ran up into the light surprised
Her arms are open
Her mind's eye is
Seeing things from a
Better side than most can dream
On a clearer road I feel
Oh you could say she's safe
Whatever tears at her
Whatever holds her down
And if nothing can be done
She'll make the best of what's around.
Hey, la la la.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
While I was out digging in the dirt yesterday, I kept looking down thinking I had something on my arm.
I did. A new tattoo. Tattoo two.
My Firedancer. With her newly-tattooed red aura which will go away. And that’s okay.
I went in to the shop on Sunday. An odd little man behind the counter got some basic information from me, and then asked me which artist I wanted.
I said, “I looked on your website, and any of them would be overqualified for what I want, and it’s okay if they laugh at me.”
After a few moments, I was introduced to an artist, whose name I did not catch due to the very high volume of the rock music playing. He was busy with someone else, but stopped for a moment to see the little picture I brought with me, and give me an estimate.
The odd little man got a deposit from me, and made an appointment for Monday at 12:30.
I will admit that the artist scared me ever so slightly. But he seemed to do good work.
When I got there yesterday, I went to use the bathroom, and noticed him in his room spraying down everything. I then noticed that the bathroom was cleaner than pretty much any other one I’ve ever seen, and the checklists on the walls were up to date.
Better 5S than most businesses I’ve seen, too. (I know they have to. Technically, there are lots of places that have to and yet, don’t.)
And the artist, turned out to be named Buck, was a teddy bear.
He had printed a template and held it out to me once I got settled in.
I held out the same template, modified to suit the style of me.
I wanted smooth lines. I wanted her ass smaller. And her arms to look less like stumps. More symmetrical. And no ribs showing. Solid black. I did leave her right arm ever so slightly spooky.
So he suggested he make the tracing directly from my drawing. I said cool.
When Buck had the outline cut out, he placed it on the very center of my forearm. Which was a different place than I had said I wanted a day earlier.
Then I was surprised to find I had a preference to NOT have it centered. He moved it up, and moved it down, and I decided on up.
Oh, how very much it felt like he was slicing into my arm with a large sharp knife. I was sure if I looked, that I would see my right forearm flayed, firedancer flap of skin flapping in the wind, so to speak.
And yet, I looked. Glanced, really. And didn’t see any blood. I think he was barely done with her foot.
I admitted to Buck I’m a bit of a woos, so he capably held my arm down after that.
Once it was way past too late to change her location, he told me that the further up the forearm one goes toward the elbow, the more painful it is.
I said had he told me that at the beginning, she’d be a lot lower on my arm.
He said he never mentions pain to someone.
I thought that sounded like a really good strategy.
So as it turned out, it’s a different size, different color, and in a totally different place than Sunday's tattoo would have been.
Pondring anything does that, you know.
Sometimes it conjures better.
Now if I can just get Dave to autograph her with a 41.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Most of my stuff to pack is laid out on the bed. I’ve printed my boarding passes; burned the combustibles in the fireplace; took a bunch of stuff out to the garage; I’ve got a load of clothes almost done in the dryer, the dishes are either in the dishwasher or put away; I ate some toast and eggs, and have the recycling out to the curb.
I’m way ahead of the game for a travel day.
Reset my Twitter password and started following Dave Matthews.
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Shea was with Bill last night. She called me, I guess it must have been a little before 7:00 PM, to let me know that the Dave Matthews Band was going to be on Fuse, and she gave me the channel number.
She said she was going to watch it too. I was pretty surprised. Then she said she was starting to like their stuff. I told her that was the best thing I had heard all day.
I was then glued to the TV for the next two hours.
Damn.
To say I’m glad they talked their differences out is to drastically understate my position.
Thursday, September 03, 2009
I was just looking back at my schedule from last year. This stretch at home is definitely cosmic Libra reparations.
As I browse urbandictionary.com yet again, I come to the conclusions:
I’m not a cougar.
I’m not an urban cougar.
Therefore I’m not a cheetah, which is a cougar in training.
I’m not a puma, a pre-cougar.
I’m not a bobcat.
I am not a panther.
I am not a mountain lion.
I’m not a girlfriend. I don’t have any superpowers.
Shit. I’m barely a woman.
I’m a crush. Naturally. Why would it be anything else.
Fucking Dave Matthews.
But in the best possible way.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Well, I did ask for a man for my birthday.
Beyond that, I wasn’t very specific, was I.
I had one for my birthday. Three weeks later I don’t have one.
This week of Halloween brought the ghosts of Bruces past. Well, two of the three Bruces. Bruce III has not been heard from in years.
First in the week, an email of necessity work-wise to Bad Bruce I. With a prompt, polite reply.
The second, from Bad Bruce II. A phone call. I actually have him in my phone as Bad Bruce II. I did a bit of a double take when it rang. Didn’t answer it.
No message left.
Not long after that I received a text from him.
Didn’t answer that either. Well, not until this morning. “All is good. Sorry can’t help.”
Remember Derrick asking why I still had their numbers in my phone.
“So I can not answer them.”
Not that Bad Bruce I would call me.
And if he does, I won’t answer it either. I’ll send him a cordial email if I have to for work, but that’s as much as I’m going to give.
Been there, done that, got the T-shirt, got shot down. Albeit in a fucking spectacular fashion.
Bad Bruce II was more a slow painful erosion. Gave all I am giving there, too.
By midnight there will be a ghost of Derrick past too. Fast and painful. And no need to add a qualifier. The Ds have fouled out.
I gave all, bet big, lost, came home.
Sulked and played Warren Haynes and John Denver and Dave, of course Dave.
Thanks, Dave. You’re always there for me. I made peace with it on the way home.
Got a pile of mail from the mailbox, closed the garage door, walked inside, and felt okay.
Pondered a bit, then felt fine.
I set October free. A little early. Now I felt good.
Because once pondered I realized I got what I asked for.
Then I remembered I asked for Dave too.
And find my tickets to see him in Las Vegas in December in the pile of mail.
]]>
