Long dark night of the blah,blah,blah……

Do not consider painful what is good for you.

-Euripides.

I fear the man who drinks water / and so remembers this morning what the rest of said last night.

-A Greek anthology 7th BC.

Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.

-Tyler Durden.

( Cue-Herb Albert and the Tijuana brass sounding the festive alarm to my resurrection…or something…)

Hail ! Wooooo!!!

Hail my foxy return from a day of  period damage,cleaning up cat puke,small circles and Howard Hughes-ese type behavior.

I think that the dogs shit more when they know that I am here alone and don’t want to deal with it. Canine spite at its pooping finest. I mean, honestly. They look up at me so proud of their steaming or regurgitated effort "How ya like THEM apples??" their beady little eyes transmit up to me malevolent and true.

"You little cunt!" I mutter darkly while simultaneously holding my breath and fumbling behind me for the paper towels.

All the live long fucking day yesterday I felt as about as worthwhile and attractive as a mule that had gone through the front windshield of a family sedan full of Mormons.

Miss K tells me to suck it up as it was only one down,one shit-tacular day off the body dysmorpic Rollins cycle that I call my life.She,as ever,was correct.As the cloud is still hanging like a gray velvet drape over the city of sin-struck angels I am gonna run like Forest today and by God , I need it.

Codeine and the aforementioned hated time of the month ("Its shark week!" he wrote  to my sofa dependant self loathing fat fleshed self and made me wanna throw the phone….)  took me to a shady internal location  resembling the bar scene in Star Wars crossed with the Marquis de Sade’s prison cell last night, well, lets just say by the time I stopped messing round painting my face and pulling faces in the mirror while listening to 70’s era Elton John and finally went to bed.

I mean, do I know how to have a good time or what?

 My neurotic ball sack of a dog just slunk around the suit of Armour that stands a silent guard to my left with a guilty expression on her foxy little head which leads me to hoping that she has not left a surprised package anywhere for my gold tipped toes to discover in the dark.

Was text-ing my ( hopefully) new photographer last night about a Helmut Newton-esque shoot in my bathroom which is what lead me to make up and Captain bloody Fantastic crooning to me till the glitter soaked wee hours.It made all my clothes fall off as well . (….ahem.)

 "Hmmmmm?? She’s right! " pondered the Queen of Siam as she remembered something her drunk wife had cackled the week before as she studied her buff brown, make up marred,  blue eyed visage from every conceivable ( and some not- so- quite for the inflexible among us ) angle.

 "I DO have the ass of a 12 year old boy!" and off she merrily tripped, naked as a jaybird down the spooky gray hall  to pull on a pair of boots onto her mile long gams….

Random,random,random…..

My Space wont let me change my default picture from the tit gripping image that I have had up forever,the ones you like don’t like you back, I wrote a cool song and I am still home alone.Its been quite fun and clothing free amongst other things….

I received a manic call from The Brooklyn Rottweiler (my Manager ) on Monday afternoon which led to me being picked up in a flame bedecked SUV by my dear ( new and amazing) friend Ace and being ferried to the front door of The Rainbow upon the cresting wave of his fine company and the dulcet ever nudging and winking tones of Bon Scott.

Hurley ( the clothing company ) felt the need to show us ( Blagging rack jobbers,wanna be’s,assorted barfly’s and your  idiot scribe) its spanky new Motorhead tee shirt line.

Charmed I’m sure!

My name checked off and a black leather wristband clamped onto my sinewy arm.Ready for what ever adventure may choose to befall me, I entered the sacred portal and promptly lose my dashing escort and my desire to be out in public yet again. Typical and never a suprising state of affairs.

The only place I would not be the tallest person in the room is a NBA awards dinner…ever the boot bedecked beacon, I slunk my way to the refuge, which to me in these rock fueled reoccurring situations that I frequently find myself in ,tends to be the end of the bar.A free seat next to the video machine.Score.The flickering light momentarily catches my attention and I grin as I notice that Lemmy’s name holds the top spot.

As I went to claim my throne, a black clothed trestle table groaned under the lactose weight of pizza’s  the size of hubcaps and steam tray of Florida-tan- fried god-only- knows what.

I held my cherry gum scented breath as I sauntered by, lest I inhaled any fat isotopes and planted myself on a Jack Daniels stool at the open bar and asked the sloe eyed gothic Tammy Faye serving for a 7 up with a marciano cherry.She arched a comic book eyebrow up,up and away into the shadows of a ink black hairline and sniffed haughtily at the tip that I placed before her.

Feeling like the sober stain that blights all and sundry’s good times in bars the world over I dug into the gaping maw of my eternal red patent faux D&G survival pack and fished out my ever present journal while the tiny tattooed girl next to me drooled drunkenly and stared wide eyed and strangely unfocused.

 "Heyyyy…"she slobbered through tiny terrier leather glossed candy lips "Yooo should write down my numberrr" she slurred, pulling the R’s like bourbon infused salt water taffy. My eyes watered in the dark brown mist that she exhaled like the fog machine at a Journey concert.. Continuing, like all that populate Hollywood, she is immune to protocol or disdain.

 "I am a hairdresser ( burp in lieu of an exclamation mark.) Oops! ‘scuse me!.You know,we should hang out,Whatchoo writin’anyhow???" she looked miffed at my smirk and lack of total attention.

"It’s called "On the road." I disarmingly and chummily smiled at her, hands folded before me like a newscaster ,all attention now apon her. She bloomed,a badly inked night orchid.

"Wow!" she sighed "That sounds amazing!"

"Well…"I replied heartily  "History has proven you right on that front".I offered my hand like a bullshit powered traveling salesman to a valium addicted attention starved Midwestern housewife.

"Michele." I grinned like a state lottery winner "Michele Keroauc,pleased to meetcha!" I pumped her tiny timid hand up and down like a car jack, not breaking eye contact. Her dodgy wanna-be tough guy biker escort started to squirm beside her.

"Zee!" she squeeled "Like the letter!"

"You betcha!" I winked and cocked my fingers at her like a pistol.

"You Polish?" he sneered,the result of a life time diet of shitty Stephen Segal movies,ambition mixed up with ability and dubious bathtub speed.

"As the sausage and he holiness the Pope darlin!" I grinned like a retard.

He hissed and lent back. Animals to dumb even for my jaded ass to fuck with for long. I excused myself and went back to the page as they discussed me in bad stage whispers and looked up every once in awhile from their bottles of frosty Bud to behold the pen wielding Pollack and crafter of road fables seated before them.

Thank god for Black Lable Dave and Scotty in his full SS regalia to save and entertain me. Seeing Scott all dressed in Lemmy’s World War  Two finery made me a touch misty eyed for Ron Asheton.

Hollywood is chock-o-block full of ghosts for my ever open fans heart. I could just see him in his Afrikaans corp uniform striding into Rodney’s English Disco to whip Iggy to a pulp….

And here comes Beautiful Sir Todd with his Peter Grant like charisma ,keeper of the Motorhead flame for over 20 years.Ever suave and devil eyed,mentally tying me virgin- like to a stake.I love a man who can make me blush like a schoolgirl and coo like a dove….

Dawn informed me that "Yours and Nick’s are the last 2 names on the list…." "Wouldn’t be the 1st time!" I pondered darkly while txt-ing his royal punk ass to inform him of our holy door dimming status.Alas, I would be sailing the sonic sea’s without him this fine evening as he was otherwise detained. Turn that frown upside down young lady!…. yeah,yeah….Bummer in the fledgling summer as he is one of the only people populating this fickle fault line that I know who speaks my language….

It turned out to be quite peachy all in all.I put my book away and made an effort. Made the acquaintance of  Cool Cody. She and I are going to hook up for coffee real soon.A gift! A new girlfriend…cool. Matt,who daringly asked me on a date….Us all in the corner cackling away at the unwashed masses….I am guessing that Daddy-O is working his ass off with Fear Factory.Freida wrote to tell me that she made it back to Sweden.I.miss her already. Leizel calls me from the land of  leis and lava,sending mad love.Laura is teaching kids how to wail on the guitar in San Diego, which does NOT mean "Whales vagina" although I wish that it did.

Dreaming of the next time that I am gonna get up there and do my thing. Writing and playing alot. I cant complain.

Time to get out there and work it all off yet again.

Don’t get none on ya.

M

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