I don’t think that I have ever needed one and I am sure as hell not in the market for one as I sit here tonight,rain tumbling ass over tit from the sorrowful sky..

I think that I may be,at times, hard to reason with. Not the most reasonable woman..

Lugged my fat ass into the studio on Sunday to record my second duet with my brother. We are the Captain and Tennille of punk. He stood by me as I emoted all breathy and dishy in front of the microphone and lovingly poked me in the ribs when I got it right. I was so tired but it was and shall always be worth it.

Found myself in the midst of the teeming  testosterone throng at Madball on Tuesday night at The Factory theatre. Old friend Jay Blurter back in my life. Me and him share the same unholy birthday and disgusting sense of humor. I have not seen him in years and its good to have him back.  I like driven people who live and die by the sword,they inspire me and keep me on the true path.  Scotty from Toe to Toe grinning from ear to ear. Me looking like a miracle mile of shell shocked green eyed wet dream in a torn up OFF!  tee-shirt,skintight black jeans and braces. A dude named Lucky flirted with me by the bar. I felt rusty and obvious so I ran away.

My mind like a minnow, darting all over the place, thinking about how my sweet dopey fucked up ex couldn’t get a visa to come back here again,to the country that he should have been calling his own by now. How he trucks with torn up trash in our once duly beloved Los Angeles. All the angels are lost on the fucked faultline doncha know sugar? ( Too bad,how sad). and that the last time I saw Mike Dean who is replacing him, we were in South Carolina on tour and how small,small,small planet rock and roll really is. Thinking about how someone I hurt just by being me snidely said that I was writing about said ex-amour over and over again ( Untrue in parts.Which parts? None of your fucking business baby. ) and that I had fallen from the top of Google as ,he snottily implied, no one must be reading my page.

Stop me if I have heard this one before because I am shimmying to beat the fucking band here. I forgive him. Hurt people hurt. Horse bolted. Barn door shut.

You don’t wanna date a writer. Trust me,you just don’t. Well then,off you toddle, go and mate with some flinty eyed  thunder thigh-ed technical collage dropout that man’s the blender at Boost juice. I don’t give a fuck. People force me into not giving a fuck and hell, if the shoe fits (…mmmmm….shoes….) I will wear the motherfuckers and then go out dancing all night long.

Had a good night though. Thraxxy introduced me to some fans of my old band and that really made my night, they were a charming combination of sweet,awestruck and respectful. Three things that will always be welcome in my fucked up life of dirty distinction and manic bursts of blood stained possibility. Also got sent an article from Revolver where my darling Gene spoke of my work in glowing terms. I was also informed that Metal Hammer gave “Lifer”  a 6/10. Not bad,not bad at all. Now back to the Factory Theatre…Unfortunately the one person that I wanted to be there more than anything had to work so I felt like a bit of a busted Cinderella.

Jay set me straight. Obi wan you are my only hope…..

As ever I cannot sleep and Saint Tina will be here in a few hours….

Looking Glass are playing tomorrow night. I will brave the elements and the assorted idiots to get my head blown off. Its cool when you can see the beloved members of your own amazing band in their amazing bands. My few friends are absolutely spectacular. Thraxxy is doing a guest spot with a line up of hardcore rap artists that she rolls with. Its like hanging out with Little Kim! She is amazing. My compadres are the cream. Its mardi gras weekend. I think that the government seed the clouds to literally rain on the parade.

I also think that Jimmy Hoffa’s body is in a cornfield in Iowa.