My hands think that they are exclusively for bass playing now.

That’s where they want to be. Mal smiles at me at rehearsal and says “You have been practicing!” I beam at him like a hopped up half wit and blush happily. I play more and more.

A while back……..

My guitar felt abstract ,fingers too fat, calluses too broad across my fingertips. There was no PA but I’m loud enough. So damn tired that my big baby blues were hanging out on my creased cranium  on red licorice stalks of exhaustion. Louis Vuitton trunks of manic welded kissing close beneath.  My amazing brother and I…. Blackie plays forever and I can’t wait to get the fuck off after five songs.

I shut my peepers so I don’t weep with the weight of the words that I write about indifferent people who will never know that this song is about you.

(Don’t you? Don’t you? Don’t you?…)

Apologizes to my fellow big lipped sister in song, Carley Simon.

The coolest little record store on a hot Sunday afternoon…..

My beautiful friends….. Can I tell you that the cracks in my voice are mirroring the cracks on my psyche? That the noises that come out of my pie-hole make my sternum shudder ? That I have to hurt myself back to the start because I cannot end like this. I cannot float with it. It does not sing to me

(White roses arrive at my door with a card signed from the King. They are begging my favor. They are to curry my service. I don’t know if I can do what you ask of me any more….)

I am capable of so little. You thought that I could do so much more.

The more I am pushed the more I withhold. Don’t we all?

So that was then and this?  Well,this is now………

You don’t need a black ankle bracelet to be under house arrest baby. I am self confined to my room and happily keeping only the most antisocial of hours, my Elvis lamp rotating on the shelf above my head creaking like it needs oil, baby food on special this week at the store  keeping my wonky weight right down thank-you-very-much and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t dig it. I find myself cutting tenuous-at -best ties by the day. Nothing to hold on to means nothing to hold me back. The last two weeks have been soaked in fire, disarray, induced comas, beatings and death.


I wake up to a barrage of messages that would cripple a weaker woman. After taking the 1st few licks you tend to go numb and it don’t hurt so bad no more. You leave your body and fly away…..

Offers of shows coming through and I am booking almost all of them just so I keep moving. Been playing my beautiful bad tempered 12 string. She only rests easy in one specific tuning but I guess when you are that good looking you can pretty much get away with whatever the hell you damn well please….. But if a wet dream had a soundtrack?

I had not picked her up in forever but that’s what you get for watching the vh1 “Behind the Music- Guns’n’Roses” Of course I am gonna break out the 12 string and mess around. It demands it.

(Oh Izzy Stradlin…je t’ami….)

I have 2 shows coming up ,one with my brother and one opening a night in the city. Two frisky Fridays in a row. It a record launch for The Miss-Made at The Square. Should be peachy. Got offered a gig in Bulli but lord only knows how the hell I would get there. I will give it a red hot shot though.

No one that I want ever wants me so if complete strangers desire my presence and want to pay me for singing I will let my ego be stroked onstage. Fuck it you know? Why not.

Its good today. I am not obsessing (much) I am not caring if it all falls away. The last thing that I was in I sadly ended as I was not able to lift my game to the level required. He told me at the shaky start that if I decided that I could not do it anymore that we would still be friends and that it would be cool. Lip service much? Silly rabbit! Trix are for kids….Its my own fault for believing it. I was an idiot.

It was a fucking mess.

This is what drives me crazy.

If you think that you can not handle something,don’t get involved in it or at the least? Tell the other party that you can’t comply to the conditions. No harm, no foul. You know what leads us into such bitter blind spots? Allow me to school you, not that you don’t know what I am gonna lay down here…….Greed. Pure greed. In my experience men will say anything ,promise you the moon ,say that they will be cool….anything to get the ‘tang.

I fell for it. Thank god he was a nice guy. He just lost his shit when I called a stop to it. I understood,it wasn’t easy but I was not going to be a part of something that I was not honestly invested in. I never meant to hurt him but it was a lesson not to let your mouth write cheques that your ass can’t cash. I am so sick of being painted as the bad guy because I won’t pull my punches. You don’t want to go toe to toe? Don’t get in the fucking ring.

My sleeping pattern is in complete disarray.

But seeing that I have no life it doesn’t really matter all that much. I am enjoying keeping myself to myself. I have always been better off doing so. Lady Thraxx of Harlem still graces Chez Shite a few nights a week so that is all of my social interaction taken care of thank you kindly. I am training light and sweating hard. Running comes next after this period has come and gone. My rock raddled rack is requiring 3 sports bras. If I ran at this point I would have two black eyes so its all bopping around the house with wrist and ankle weights duct taped to my gangly extremities cleaning and dancing like the fat hippo that I am to Down’s “Over the under.”


Cant wait to go and see Jello Biafra at the Metro on Saturday night. Beloved big brother is doing the support. I love seeing him killing it on the big stages….He wrote me from the Queensland shows and said that they went off, all sold out and so on….I  am meant to have a date for the show this weekend with  “The coolest boy I know” (TM)  but I am not holding out real high hopes at this point.I think that he is too cool for my white-trash self. I’m not going to stop digging him , and let’s face it,I couldn’t if I tried and I have tried….*sigh*…. It’s kinda good because it forces my internal teenager to cool the fuck out.

Which is just what I need.

Just got a message from my producer and he asked me if I would be up for interviewing Jello on Sunday. I put on the soundtrack from “Xanadu” and slid up and down the hallway in my pink socks squealing with glee and then composing myself replied cool as a cucumber that I am ever up for the challenge. Nerves keep me running and I rise like raunchy bread ready to be served at the banquet of bad ass. Like a foxy tide to be surfed to the sexy shore.

Or something…..

You do what you do and take aim. At least I show up, dig? I am down with being present in my life when the occasion demands it. I employ an economy that guarantees the best of me in such situations. I can deal with the rest of me later in the privacy of my own home. Show up to your life and make it look good mami. I figure that it is all that I can do.

Thraxx just called me to say that she will be heading over tonight. A glut of salacious gossip and guitar playing shall follow. We have to keep writing for The Squirters.

Booked in to get my hair did on Thursday. It’s the G’n’R thing. I’m thinking Stephine Seymour in the  “November Rain” film-clip. A fetching auburn to keep me warm through the miserable upcoming winter months. Sayonara cash…buh-bye shekels… Rather look good than eat. Just sayin’…..

Oh thank you Elvis!

I just got my period! Great timing! Here was me thinking that I was going to have to wear a caftan on the weekend. Think Shelley Winters in “The Poseidon Adventure” *shudder*…not real sexy huh? Nice work sadly unused genitals! Go Junk! Now all I need to do is rock a juice fast, flick my new mane alluringly while reeking of Bulgari Jasmine Noir and Vanilla body-wash and hope that the object of my erstwhile longings decides to grace me with his presence this weekend…..

Seventeen forever. Duh.