Front.

I feel like someone booked me on a a one way ticket to wig city without my knowledge. Straightjacket included in the price. The food sucks and the service is  dismal.

All aboard!

Another week bleeds together and I eat steamed vegetables (“But where do you put their wheelchairs?) and stay at home locked in my disaster of a room,earplugs wedged in my head and a towel under the door.Party central. A fucktard  that I have unfortunately had working with me on my Wednesday nights told me that he would stop fucking up if we had “Meetings”. Excuse me? What is this? The fucking 80’s? I don’t to meetings.I do the phone.You want to talk to me you call.

Its early and no Dr Pepper makes Michele an angry girl.I have finally knocked off the Red-Bull for a while.Me dying of a taurine induced heart attack would make far to many people happy.

The less contact that I have to have with the animals the better off everyone is,trust me.It takes me all week to get it together enough to leave the house for the Wednesday’s show and then to work Saturday on the door.

Stevie Nicks graces this weeks flier so I think I will break out “Silver Spring” on my 12 string.

One nice footnote from Saturday on the door though.I tend to abuse people who wear band tee-shirts with out knowing whose flag they are flying mercilessly and until the big vein in my forehead is throbbing like an earthworm that swallowed a metronome.So this boy gets to the front of the line and says “Hi Seven!”

“Hey darlin'” I reply not knowing him from Adam.A huge grin illuminates his face and he says in quick succession “Blitzkrieg bop,I wanna be sedated and I want you around!” I grin back at him.

“Honey” I say “Did I hit you?”

“No” he replied sheepishly” But I thought you were going to”

“Ramones tee shirt right?”

“Yep and now I love ’em!”

Of course I fucking let him in for free.You have to reward a dog when they get the trick right.Some where up there the brudda’s know that I am continuing their work down here on the putrid mortal coil in their lamented absence.

Got my rock and roll on to a spectacular level last week.Believe me, if it had not had Miss Lilli and Miss Karen pushing my fat ass to do so I would have slept through the whole thing as is my want and habit. That’s how you can tell that my depression has finally set up shop for good.I was not spastically excited about two nights of majestic spoken word,not to mention a show of my own…Wednesdays show was a blinder and unfortunately my worst one to date.My big brother off on tour supporting The Sonics,my resources tapped by fools,my adrenalin burning me alive…I am a Virgo,born the same day as Dee-Dee Ramone and Greta Garbo (control freak par excellence) and a number 9 ( Built for conflict) .When things that I am emotionally invested in (…rare,oh so rare.) get fucked with I am now at such fine distilled point of anger in my rapidly advancing years that I just cut the cord and walk.

Baby.Bathwater.Window.Capiche?

Which I almost did but for the company of Sue,my booker and shit-kicker extraordinaire.

So back to it this week for a few more shows and then a break to see if I want to keep going.I have all of June off which leads me to think of extended boot-camps and wild self punishment.Getting my self hatred out of my head and inflicting it on my corpse yet again.

Redd Kross were just so good at the Oxford Arts factory that I almost couldn’t bear it. One of my beautiful flying monkeys gave me welcome yet unwelcome news about the travails and exploits of my lying ex-inamorata. So that is that. He can have all the dirty whores that are shit in bed that he can handle and not me.I was tired and somewhat melancholy by the time the set thundered to a close.I hadn’t seen Steven since he was out here with OFF! but I decided to bail home in a cab,Lilli and I curled like tired rock sated kittens in the deep leather back seat.

Cue my shocking show the next night.Quel bummer in the summer….

Then onto the Seymour center to bask in the lexicon devilry and solid jaw of my beloved Sir Henry Rollins.We perched in the nosebleed seats and sucked I it all up into my ever fecund frontal lobe with a stripy straw.My cowboy legs spilled out into the isle and I realized ,yet again,how severely I have been letting myself down.My sleeping pattens erratic to put it mildly. I did not spend one day awake with Miss K battling though second hand shops and laughing at ugly civilians.My clock is beyond broken.She understands me totally but I still feel bad.

Then back to Mr Rollins on the Friday night.Saw Jen and Shane ,my favorite couple outside of Sharon and Ozzy.They are the Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward of punk.Their level of sincerity and greatness flaws me.We spoke of Miss Belle and her beloved Dave making it work in San Francisco and it made me miss my trounced future.

Not that it was ever going to work.I was too self aware to become a drug addict and too smart to be just a fuck hole.Now, if I could just extinguish that last bit of hope and move on with my life.

So Friday,yes…Front row center tickets.My make up and hair perfect.My ever astounding rack encased in my Cheap trick tee-shirt and is it wrong to tell you that we made eye contact 81 times,and yes,0f-course-I-bloody-counted?

Sigh.

I think you shine if you are wanted.I am tarnished as an Indian head penny. That glow that a woman has when she is desired and in love.Oh man…..You could have hooked the generator for a small town to my ass when I was in love and I would have keep it running without breaking a sweat or  a second thought. I think that my business has healed over.My weight gain is now morbidly fascinating. I have to google how much one can sell a kidney for.

Lili’s  dolt of a brother was away for the weekend.Utter heaven.I cant believe that I have the bad fortune to share a domicile with someone who wallows in their own ignorance,speaks like an inbred and drives drunk.This is Elvis way of testing weather or not I will be driven to homicide.

At least it would get me three hots and a cot and eradicate another idiot from the earth…

Back to selling the kidney.I need to live alone.Its been a decade since dwelling in my gothic monstrosity in Glebe and I miss it so very much. I miss my shit-heap of a garage too. Knowing that someone who is as stupid as a house brick and as about as appealing a a severe case of thrush is breathing on the other side of the wall is enough to make me want to toss my cookies.

Being that the former love of my life is tangled up with his bargain basement opiate guzzling prize of a prostitute I hear nothing from him.This is par for the course.She tracks and trails him relentlessly. Their poison coupling .I have to laugh.

What was that immortal line from the patron Saint of the Xanax disheveled ,Miss Courtney Love?…

“Ah yesssss!” hissed the brunette serpent as she settled her steel coils around the ruby apple.

“Someday you will ache like I ache.”

Howdja dig that fruit-cup baby boy?

But strangely enough I did receive an email from the one that came before him.A lanky miserable country boy that I tried to love back in ’05 with too much talent that I supported and promoted with my whole dumb heart.He was too insecure to deal with the fact that I was on the road in Europe with my band .Oh! the joyous emails that I received with him putting me and my career down,telling me that I would never make it.What a fucking prize that one was.Petty,ignorant and selfish and below par in the sack.I sure can pick em’ cant I?

Oh the fun that was to be had when he got back on the crack pipe and began drinking two liters of wine a night and put me down endlessly.Accused me of cheating on him.All the fun shit.To this day he still lives with one of my best friends,still living off my largess.

And he wrote to me to thank me for all that I had instilled in him all those years ago.

Big whoop.

Which makes me wonder.How long does it take dick packers to realize what they have destroyed? What they have lost?

The recent and most important man that I loved kept me in abundant roses from LA while he was on tour last .The florist would arrive,knock on the back fence near my garage and I would sigh. “Geeze! He loves you!”  he would smile handing over the blooms.His now ex- band mates chiding him over losing me and doing me wrong.I would stick my face deep into the decadent bunches and inhale lustily all the while hoping that he had not contracted something terminal from his heroin abusing harpie.

That one day there would be a time for us to inhabit once again.

Ho-hum.

I didn’t answer the email from my long ago mistake.Why the fuck would I? He opened it by saying that he hoped that I was in a good mood and not an ass kicking one.In our final conversation all those years ago I calmly told him to stop threatening me and to come around,come on over…,.I sat in the dark waiting,shotgun across my lap, ready to blow his knee caps out from under him.The problem is that people see me as a gentle giant.They mistake my kindness for weakness.

Idiots.

For a while there I thought that I was getting better.Turns out I was just tired.

I have that tasty month off coming my way.Hmmmm….I might disassemble and recalibrate.Turn off the phone.

I am a foxy homicidal malcontent.

There are worse things to be,I ain’t complaining.