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The Old Moon in the Young Moon’s Arms

Not-Gay Jason over at AlabamaAssWhuppin.com posted about the spectacular brightness of Venus and Jupiter tonight. I noticed the gorgeous moon and stars last night while standing in the Ingles parking lot. It was so purty it knocked that horrible “Final Countdown” song out of my head. It gets in there every time I shop at Ingles, bacause there’s a Final Markdown store right next door, and I can not look at that damn sign without the damn song kicking off in my head. It’s so bad that I think that’s subconsciously why I am willing to pay Publix prices sometimes. This bit caught my eye:

A very close conjunction of the crescent moon and a bright star or planet can be an awe-inspiring naked-eye spectacle.  The English poet, critic and philosopher, Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834) used just such a celestial sight as an ominous portent in his epic, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.”  In addition, there are juxtaposed crescent moon and star symbols that have appeared on the flags of many nations, including Turkey, Pakistan, Malaysia, Algeria, Mauritania, and Tunisia.

Also on Monday evening, you may be able to see the full globe of the moon, its darkened portion glowing with a bluish-gray hue interposed between the sunlit crescent and not much darker sky.  This vision is sometimes called “the old moon in the young moon’s arms.” Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519) was the first to recognize it as what we now call “earthshine.”

happy sad

Proud Moments:

Finding myself involved with my favorite bands, finding out that they are great people as well as great musicians, and finding some of my best friends among them.

Finally realizing that looks don’t really matter.

Watching the band I’ve worked so hard for become famous.

Today is my 11-year anniversary at my job. Wait – is that a regret?

Realizing that I had a one-of-a-kind family; that I’m actually related to some of the most loving and amazing people in the world.

Biggest Regrets:

That I quit playing bass without ever even really trying.

That I slept through Dylan’s birth and wasn’t there for Caleb’s.

That I have a day job instead of a job I love, and am in too much debt now to change that.

That I’ve spent so much of my life being ignorant and self-centered.

That I didn’t make Monster ditch the band and go to Nashville with me the night he died.

That I fall in love so easily, and fall out so hard.

Ryo-oh-ki, up close and personal

Claressa

It’s almost 4am. Been up about an hour, chatting with Claressa about life.

Claressa is by far, by FAR the smartest person I know, on the books. She’s out of this world kinda smart. I don’t know what her IQ is, but I’m pretty sure it’s way above mine. Not that mine’s so hard to beat – but suffice it to say that Claressa is a scientist, the kind who would be on a team of superheroes, the kind you wished you could be when you were a kid. She’s scary smart.

Yet we have amost the exact same life problems.

Maybe growing up together made us so similar in the things we choose, the way we think. It’s eerie. Anyway, in my insomniac haze, I became convinced that patience was the only answer to the problems we were discussing, and as I often do when I am contemplating something, I just googled the word.

Patience.

I found some magnificent quotes, which I hope to remember forever. Because I am too tired to make this blog worth a crap, I will put them here in lieu of anything else I might spew that will surely be drivel.

Learn the art of patience. Apply discipline to your thoughts when they become anxious over the outcome of a goal. Impatience breeds anxiety, fear, discouragement and failure. Patience creates confidence, decisiveness, and a rational outlook, which eventually leads to success.
-Brian Adams

Patience has its limits. Take it too far, and it’s cowardice.
-George Jackson

We could never learn to be brave and patient, if there were only joy in the world.
-Helen Keller

Patience serves as a protection against wrongs as clothes do against cold. For if you put on more clothes as the cold increases, it will have no power to hurt you. So in like manner you must grow in patience when you meet with great wrongs, and they will then be powerless to vex your mind.
-Leonardo da Vinci

Have patience with all things, but chiefly have patience with yourself. Do not lose courage in considering your own imperfections but instantly set about remedying them – every day begin the task anew.
-Saint Francis de Sales

How poor are they who have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees.
-William Shakespeare

Pumpkin Hunt

Yesterday Matt took me out to the pumpkin farm and we found this giant misshapen pumpkin that he fell in love with. I don’t carve pumpkins anymore; the mess-to-fun ratio is too high. I can think of a lot of things that are a lot more fun that make much less mess, although of course a little mess is always acceptable…

It’s been so gorgeous outside that all I’ve wanted to do is ride horses or drive the Firebird out into the country with the windows down as far as it’s gas will take me.  Alas, I’ve had parties and meetings and dinners and dates, and no time to myself. I think this weekend I’ll spend alone, probably with a bottle of something and a full tank in case the bottle isn’t appealing. Which never happens… as Nathanial says, “Is there anything alcohol can’t fix?”

I did have a wonderful lunch with Sweet Kelly today. I forget how lucky I am sometimes, to have such awesomely smart and caring girls as friends. Other than that, though, I have been feeling decidedly anti-social. Some time on my own oughtta make me sufficiently lonely enough to get through Halloween.

Halloween… what a mess. DBT at the Ryman. Matt is going with me and I have nothing to wear. The next night in Atlanta should be more laid back. At least I get to be with my friends while they’re dressed to the 9’s. I can’t afford this trip… it’s gonna be a lean Christmas. My friends better be prepared to get banana pudding as presents…

Hi there.

I’m sorry I’ve been away so much. I know that I’m not all that great a writer or interesting a blogger, but I know a few people do keep up with me here and I apologize for the lack of updates.

Sometimes life is full of things you can’t really talk about. Right now, mine is full of decisions that can’t be made and lives that can’t be lived, desires that can’t be fulfilled and holes that can’t be plugged. It’s brimming with hope that can’t be dampened with any amount of cruel common sense, and sadness that can’t be drowned with any kind of alcohol. It’s about everything, everyone, nothing, and no one. You know you’ve been here before.

All I can do is keep living, and hope the economy stands and the money holds out long enough to keep me in drinks; that the music keeps coming and I keep being able to get to it; that my friends and family all remain in this world and in my life forever.

Okay, yes, it’s about boys, at least partially. You busted me. I’m torn and unable to commit to anything. I’m fascinated and impressed and terrified and uncertain, different emotions pinging from one corner to another by the minute. Yes, when I compare my emotional inner life to a video game, it’s nothing complicated or beautiful – it’s fucking Pong.

Win or lose. Endless balls. Lord have mercy.

weekend for jenn

Good weekend of Patterson shows. I gotta say Thursday night’s show at the Melting Point was muy fantastic, possibly one of his best – thank god it was recorded for Athens 441. I think maybe CP was recording too? If so, I gotta get that – he told some great stories. I totally forgot that he wrote the first verse of Heathens on a trampoline.

On Friday, Sweet Six Bullets just impressed the hell out of me. I love it when a band makes me proud. Like most of the bands I dig, their live show dwarfs anything I’ve heard recorded. I also really like them all personally – and they do have quite the extended family – they’re all fun people. Simon’s is a neat little bar, too. I think next time I’ll try to drag some of my friends along.

Won’t mention the bar we went to later by name, but let it be known by all that I won’t be going back there, unless it is to torture a poor unfortunate soul whom I want to hurt so bad that I’ll suppress my own gag reflex long enough to cause them significant pain – which won’t be long, in that place. Luckily Robbie’s was a safe escape, and sitting around the table laughing with those folks made me forget that I’d just been exposed to lethal amounts of karaoke… well, almost forget.

I liked Charleston a lot, just wish I’d seen more people there and had more time to spend. My traveling companions Beth & Casey wanted to hunt down a Groucho’s (the sauce!) so I got to see a little of downtown – that place made me claustrophobic. Perhaps, had I not been hungover and exhausted from the night of screaming fire alarms and “sleeping” in a recliner, I’d have enjoyed it more. Sandwich was damn good, though, and the company was excellent.

Got to spend Saturday night with my awesome brother and his beautiful family. I haven’t heard Aaron play drums in so long I’d almost forgotten what a fucking sweet drummer he is. He had his drumset set up in the echo room, and played a little for me, and it made me feel blissfully 21 again. My little brother makes me so proud. He also makes one hell of a ver blanc sauce. Hell, I think he’s good at just about everything, and he teaches it all to his kids. Caleb and Dylan oughta be pretty amazing guys when they grow up.

After all this craziness, I do need to relax. M has promised to help me with the bathroom walls; maybe I’ll get some things done around the house this week. I really wanna see Cirque du Soleil KOOZA, but thanks economy! I can’t afford that. It’s almost $100 a ticket, and I have Halloween to worry about. Halloween is almost always the most expensive holiday for me, even with all the frickin’ X-mas gifts I buy. I like ghoulie stuff. It’s the ex-goth-nerd in me.

Don’t picture that.

These boots were made for self-flagellation

I struggle with these boots. They feel wrong, uncomfortable. Why, when I was blowing money left and right, didn’t I invest in a good pair of boots? Why didn’t I pay the extra cost and have some fitted to me, some that would last forever? This boot in my hand, it means nothing to me. It would be bad if I were to wear it. The heel is so high that it would put me constantly in distress. The sole is bumpy and doesn’t give any arch support, at all. It has a bad pattern and appears to have endured a flaw in during the building process that could very well render it unstable at some crucial point. This boot might keep my foot warm, for a while, but it’s got some holes in it that are bound to only get bigger as my weight bears down on it. It’ll let me get wet, it’ll let me get cold, and through no fault of it’s own – god knows the poor boot is just trying to hold itself together as I shove my foot in – it might even cause me to fall.

But I fuckin’ love this boot.

The shape is perfect; I know if I could just get it on, it’d cling to me like a crying child, like a floorlorn lover. Certain threads of a certain color racing through it’s hide make my heart thump with joy. Wearing these boots throw my ass into the perfect position when standing – high, taut, and helpless. They turn me into something I’m both thrilled about and embarrassed by.

I try to love them through one more long, painful night of being made fully aware of how wrong these boots are for me and how little they intend on stretching to a better fit. I keep thinking that if I can wear them just one more time,  I’ll be through with them, and pass them on to some Good Will lover who thinks they can fix broken things.

In the morning, though, I open my closet door to them every time.

Words of Substance (Abuse)

It’s been a few drunken weekends since I posted a bit about what’s going on. Of course it’s all a blur, now, in the past – but there are specific thoughts that I remember….

DBT weekend tour with Adam and Casey:

- That does look like a damn ninja turtle (on the side of the tub in an Ashville hotel).

- What the fuck, boys… what the fuck?!

- Goddammit, if I laugh any more, I will have to change panties.

- Wes and Jyl Freed have got to be the kindest people on earth.

Aaron’s House (and later Robbie’s house):

- Dylan’s eyes are so blue they mirror the sky.

- It’s not easy being the littlest.

- What the hell kind of political discussion have I stepped into?

- I shouldn’t drive. I gotta drive. I am driving. I drove.

Beauvilles visit:

- These guys truly are as cool as they sound.

- How can something so delicate be so painfully beautiful?

- I love me some Wydelles.

- With friends like these, who needs a boyfriend?

Man Man @ The 40 Watt

Saw Man Man ast night. What a fucking show! This is probably the best stuff Matt’s gotten me into since he finally explained the difference between the Brian Wilson Beach Boys and that other cheeseball guy’s Beach Boys. I dug Smile so much that year that I think I even wore the dog out on it.

I’d love to review the show, but this review pretty much says it all. Read it!

just one more reason the internet is better than tv

Because otherwise, manbabies.com would not exist.

$4500? Seriously?

That is what it’s gonna take to replace my AC. If I had five people living in this house, I could justify it maybe, but with just me and occasionally Damon – perhaps I’ll keep the window unit for a while.

I stupidly bought appliance insurance from Homesure Services and they ripped me off, the jerks. Denied a valid claim, and I’m fighting them but you know they’ll win. They are some shady motherfuckers. Seriously, don’t buy that or the same shit from American Home Shield. At least Google them and check out all the complaints before you do. I wish I’d been smart enough to do that, but it came in an envelope from my bank, Suntrust. Your bank isn’t supposed to send you offers from shit companies! That does not instill consumer confidence, nor good will towards men, bank-people!

This weekend I:

Met some very interesting people, very interesting indeed.

Watched almost a whole season of some tv show while working on websites, and already managed to forget the name of it. Multitasking my ass!

Ate a hibiscus flower that Shon-t dropped into a glass of champagne while attending a kickass cookout with the Family.Who’s ever heard of such a thing?? It was DELICIOUS.

Twisted my ankle, because I simply must fall whenever it is most inconvenient and embarrassing.

(I could write a novel about all the times I’ve fallen in public. Not a good novel, just a long one. Like a bad lover with a big cock. The kind of novel that you bean your dog with when it’s eating the cat food.)

Learned some more Spanish and cleaned off the deck from the last party. Then I laid down flat on the deck and almost fell asleep in the sun. Then I went inside all woozy headed (but did not fall that time; there was no one there to see it) and took a cold shower.

Didn’t talk to over half the people I wish I had (like my whole family).

Next weekend… Mindy’s coming to town! Don Chambers’ CD release party! This week will be looo-oooong.

Open Friday Acts Like Every Other Friday

I left today open. I was hoping for an inspiration, the stimulation to do something that uses imagination, but no illumination has fallen on the wasteland that apparently is my Friday. No anticipation of 5 o’clock or agonization over the slowness of time. Then – this realization: I’m going to drink.

This decision (okay, okay, I’ll stop) has not been come to easily. Let me say that summer happy hours are lovely, despite the heat and swelter. No students clogging the vein from bar to smoking area like so much ill-bred plaque, fewer pissed-off cops looking for trouble, and all the chill people who hide away once that first football is kicked come out. That lasts a few glorious, sweaty weeks, and then… school’s in again. All hell hath broken loose, and it overfloweth into the streets of Athens. You can’t swing a beer bottle without slapping it across the nubile cheek of some child half your age, braving the bars with their fake IDs in nervous, giggling herds. So normally, I avoid going out on Fridays because it’s just damn miserable.

But today, I’m left at loose ends. I should go to the store and go home and do some work, but what fun is that? Only young once, time flies, only get one Friday night a week, etc etc. I could go to a movie with friends, but I think they might be having a “date night” and the last thing I need is to watch that stuff (see: Don’t Be In Love Around Me – or better yet, HEAR IT). So… drinkin’? But I went out last night, and don’t want to fall down another rabbit hole…

Rub some dirt on it and get back in the game. Go drinkin’. I don’t have to get soaking drunk. I’m bound to see a few friends. I get to see my pretty girlfriend Kelly who’ll be serving up cold Lone Star at Cutters. When the bar gets too lousy with younguns, I can head to a music club – A Armada and Iron Hero are playing at the Watt, both bands I want to see, and Ham 1 too down at the Caledonia. If I make it that long… from Happy Hour to Ham 1? Heh.

I like having no plans, but more often than not these nights leave me with some shitty Saturday mornings.

What I wish I could be doing instead:

-Going to a county fair with my hilarious and daring friends to win crappy prizes, eat ridiculous foods and take pictures of crazy-looking carnies.

-Climbing on the bus/in the van with a band for destination: ROCK.

-Laying on the floor on a whole bunch of pillows between two really good speakers with a guy I like kissing, listening to The Silent Years’ latest album and making out.

-Going home to see my folks.

-Getting on an airplane going anywhere. Almost.

Alas, I have not the money/man/plan for any of those pleasures… but then, there’s always sleep.

Weekend well after the fact

I prepared pretty well for Labor Day. I worked hard to get out of working. The food turned out excellent, and great people came. I had some wonderful grill help from one of the South Carolina boys and those guys charmed the mess out of even my most cynical friends. Many came to me proclaiming it the best Big Deck party yet, and I certainly enjoyed it. Made breakfast for the stragglers early morning and had a good time talking to Casey before anyone else got up. I was exhausted by noon, but still had more things than I wanted to deal with.

I miss being alone now. I really just want my own space. I can’t get it without getting attitude and anger from M, but I can’t seem to want to tell him to leave for good. I need to get out of town. Soon. I’m tired of settling for settling.

Oh no, not Jerry

RIP Jerry Reed.

AAW and Wes Freed stuffs

Wes with Benny the Townie Hunter, who was on assignment for AAW

One of my most beloved and entertaining friends, good ole’ Jason from San Francisco as we like to call him (though he’s really from Muscle Shoals too, the faker) has a great blog and it’s celebrating it’s 3rd year. Three years of shaking the virtual fist at the establishment and blowing out the tires on rock and roll.  Congratulations AAW!

Another man I fuckin’ love to pieces is Wes Freed. I know folks who’d pay good damn money, me included,  to paint alongside Mr. Freed (hopefully whilst his lovely wife Jyl hollers encouragement from the pile of besotted spotted cats she’s laying in). This guy got to do it and film it… Watch for Wes on Show Me Your Richmond (he’s in some pretty funny outtakes, too).

Oh, and Benny The Townie Hunter hasn’t been around much lately, but watch out for that hard-drinkin’, crooked-shootin’ bastard.

Five favorite meals in downtown Athens

Since I work down here, I’ve been to a lot of restaurants in downtown Athens. When pals come to town & ask for good places to eat, I make them a list. There are certain meals that I particularly dig. Without further ado, and in no particular order, here they be:

- Meatloaf at The Globe. Every Wednesday Matt makes a meatloaf and mashed potatoes plate that is out of this world. I used to think I was just biased ’cause I was dating the guy, but now we’re broken up & I love it just as much – and recently they’ve been selling out of the stuff every week so I know it’s not just me. You get a choice of two or three sides, all of which are awesome – collards, lima beans, squash & onions, and some really damn cheesy broccoli casserole. Cheesy in the good way.

- Coconut soup at Thai Spoon. It’s delicious, and I don’t usually like coconut soup. Sweet Kelly turned me on to it and now I’m addicted. They have good calamari there too, if you like crunchy fried calamari instead of the chewy kind, and I love their spring rolls.

- The “Meat Moat” at Trapeze. I don’t know what they really call it, but it’s a mountain of garlic mashed potatoes surrounded by a moat of gravy with chunks of roast beef in it. I hear the roast beef sandwich is delicious too, but I can’t stop getting the Meat Moat.

- Bi Bim Bob at Eat Hibachi! I don’t know what all is in it, but from what I can tell it’s short grain rice, green leafies, thinly sliced cucumber, carrot and crab meat, sauteed mushrooms and onions cooked with thin sliced beef, with a damn fried egg on top. They give you this Korean hot pepper paste to mix with it, but I am happy just mixing everything else up and eating it as is.

- Shrimp and Grits at The Farm. I don’t care what else ya say about the place, that one dish is flippin’ delicious. I’d eat it every day if it wasn’t an expensive heart attack soaked in butter.

I’d like to add that there are several other great meals down here, I just can’t have them much any more – I had to stop eating the delicious pork chops and fried chicken at Wilson’s because I can’t stomach so much grease, even if it is mighty delicious grease; I used to love the Asobe Age at Inoko but haven’t had anyone to eat sushi with lately; etc. etc. My desert favorite, however, doesn’t reside downtown – you gotta go to Agua Linda for that. Get the sopapilla – it’s a divine combination of crispy fresh fried tortilla shells, honey, cinnamon, and vanilla ice cream with a drizzle of chocolate that’s fun to feed to your date or hoard all to yourself if you’re smart.

Outta site

Finally… Don Chambers‘ new site, finished! The template code, done by my darling friend Ben Hesse who’s an artist as well as a frickin’ code ninja, is a work of art in itself. Don designed the site and did all the art. All I really did was coordinate and code in content. Still… mighty, mighty proud.

Also my friend Rodney @ Dangerous Pies was on Food Network last night! His website’s one of my favorites of the sites I’ve designed, I think. Mmmm, pie.

Oh Dolly

Woke up this morning to a (erroneous) report of Dolly Parton’s death. Walked around thinking about how Dolly changed my life, and singing Dolly songs in my head. Her musical influence on me is evident; there is no voice like hers, and even though my initial exposure was mostly through listening to country radio with my Granny and watching 9 to 5 at the theatre, I’ve developed a serious appreciation for the woman’s music over the years.

Being a girl with big boobs myself, though, I was generally more interested in learning how Dolly behaved with those things. Dolly – a strong but sweet southern girl who, despite being tiny as a wasp everywhere else, had ginormous ones – was a bigger influence on how to act around men than I’d  realized. There’s no question that having a ridiculous chest changes the way people see you, and when I was younger it mortified me to be treated to the wolfish desire of grown men once they laid eyes on my boobs, and it angered me that people assumed that because I had ‘em, I was dumb or easy. Mind you, I have been those things, but believe me – alcohol was the cause, not my tits.

I never saw how Dolly handled that sort of thing except in movies, but from her feisty personality, I could imagine. I tried to be like that, even dressed as Dolly for Halloween one year. I saw Best Little Whorehouse in Texas a few too many times. Jolene was my favorite song for a good two months. Caught myself listening to Dolly when I was down because some comment refering to my boobs had made me feel like a piece of meat instead of a human. Dolly never let her tits put the rest of her in shadow – she just grew a personality that was bigger than them, and kept on singing.

I was happy when I got to work and discovered that the report had been false, and Dolly – who appears to have finally fallen victim to the belief that her looks are all she’s got, and obviously spent many a dollar under the surgeon’s knife – was still kicking. She might be crazy, but she’s still alive.

To close out this rambling pointlessness, I give you six of my very favorite Dolly Parton quotes.They didn’t call her the Iron Butterfly for nothin’.

“When I talk to a man, I can always tell what he’s thinkin’ by where he’s lookin’. See, if he’s lookin’ at my eyes, he’s lookin’ for intelligence. If he’s lookin’ at my mouth, well, he’s lookin’ for wit and wisdom. If he’s lookin’ anywhere else except my chest… he’s lookin’ for another man.”

“If you don’t like the road you’re walking, start paving another one.”

“If you talk bad about country music, it’s like saying bad things about my momma. Them’s fightin’ words.”

“I look just like the girls next door… if you happen to live next door to an amusement park!”

“I’m not offended by dumb blonde jokes because I know that I’m not dumb. I also know I’m not blonde.”

“If I hadn’t had them, I would have had some made.”