late in the evening all you want to do is play the piano, slowly and with feeling

But I can't tonight! I probably could, but I have a staff infection in my finger. And I want to give it another day to heal and DEF can't pick up that guitar and finish that song "dreams" i've been working on for a month. It HURTS> Speaking of....

This global pandemic is finally starting to get to me. I relaxed into the first month because I was able to continue my detox of this last failed attempt at relationship. I kept seeing them around town; I felt I was always looking over my shoulder; and sometimes there they were. My heart sunk. Then it rose thinking the union could continue; then it would fall again: only one person showing up. Need two.

So, I was thankful I could just heal and not worry about all that, all that Fomo. Sometimes Austin is still a small town! But it is MY TOWN and I've been here awhile so my note to self: WALK WITH HEAD HIGH. Self-Esteem is vital! Stay in the flow; continue to let love in.

DOOOOOOD this last season was trying in many ways: I didn't have much in the way artistically to work on; and at the same time i was burned out. Weird. I'm enjoying the quiet solitude most times but tonight is hard. AND MY FINGER> OUCH

It's been almost a year since I went on my solo camping trip. I"m trying to think of when/where I can go next. I will take myself for my birthday.

That last trip was A TRIP! I went west thru from Texas to California and down to Baja. I was worried down there, driving alone: seemed to be checkpoints everywhere and I didn't have the proper papers for my camper. But I will next time, if I go to Mexico. I could be happy in Arizona or New Mexico alone! Or the more isolated parts of California. Some Parts of California are HEINUS to me.

It was scary and exhilarating! The miles and miles and miles of scary sand dunes in the middle of nowhere: the rolling hills - couldn't see 10 feet in front of me. The lights and obvious "workshop" in carved into the sand dune: I was scared of getting a flat tire all by myself in the middle of nowhere. I didn't though.

I would like to do it again: but can we ever do anything again? Without masks? Will inspiration come? Can i find more awesome hot springs? Will I complete the record I started on that journey: "Welcome to the El Dorado"???

Dreaming of hot springs....dreaming of live shows and entertaining people.

instability fuels artistic crisis!

I'm knitting knitting knitting this winter away. I've made 4 shawls and 2 scarfs and am giving them all away. The shawls have gotten increasingly thicker- like Moroccan Carpets at this point. All different colors; like little tapestries.

Well, idk why it has happened. but i'm having an artistic crisis. I dread even going into the details so please forgive me. The deal is I want more. More fun, more music, more love. More understanding better gigs and less hassle. I want people to understand me; and when they do I want them to leave me alone.

What goes up must come down. There is a paradox going on here! I strive to do different things and to challenge myself, and when I do I stress myself to the max and end up hurting myself (like my back when I made the glass umbrellas for the city this year) Or my shoulders when I joined the Cinematic Symphony last year- they still haven't healed. I hurt them tensing up trying to do something that I've never done fluently: read music. It was too hard. It's going to take some time to get better - but tell my body that.

This opens up a channel inside too: for inspiration! For me to listen to you and learn. To FEEL inspired by your achievements. I love that feeling. Rather than the other: envy. So, let it roll please.

Please tell me how you've conquered your fears, your illnesses, your heartaches. What you've done, how you've dealt with it, how you changed or modified your thinking. Thanks for sharing!

Note to my younger self on the art of making art

Dearest sweet Allyson;

You are a do-er. So, if you ever feel depressed because your not doing something, anything, just remember that it's ok. It will not last, and you will be doing something interesting again soon. You will have years of what I'm calling an "art desert" but that too, shall pass. You will say to yourself, ugh! That was hard, I'm glad that year(s) is over.

Sweetie, you have to make your own creative opportunities. Decide what YOU want to do, and then sit back and wait 5 years, maybe 10. You will look back and you will have done it. It might not look or feel as you expected.

IT IS OK that you wait until the last minute to do most creative things, but you have to suffer those consequences. (that comes from a therapy session you have had in 2017 so don't worry about it for now except that now is then)

The people you work with is paramount. You have stayed in creative situations WAY too long thinking that nothing else would come your way, but this is dysfunctional. Things DO end and you will be glad they do.

On that note letting go is not easy for you, and it's not easy for most people. But time heals. And, in 2017 time heals things a lot quicker, I believe, because you are not pouring fuel onto your flames.

You are an intellectual and thrive on mental and physical stimulation. You are also an athlete so don't forget to exercize! Also, you will be forever trying to calm your mental state.

You doubt yourself and you worry too much; but you are a leader. Note that not all people can lead a group and you can. Feel good about it; it requires a grace that comes over time.

You are highly emotional and sensitive, don't lash out if you can help it. You ALWAYS regret it.

Some people will loathe you and even hate you at times. You will forever be dealing with this emotional consequence of your person, your humanity.

As they say, patience is a virtue that doesn't come easily to you. It helps to tell yourself "patience". It calms you down.

Doing TOO much makes you miserable. Less is more, you will understand this better and better; because you certainly can't do all the things you want to; because you want to do so many different things.

photo: Todd V Wolfson

The pain the art the love the joy the pleasure of pain

In attempts to calm my soul my musician buddy Paulie Think gave me this to listen to::: https://youtu.be/53LxQlWG7PM

The Pain Body, as described by Ekhart Tolle. I've listened a lot to him in the past and learned a lot, but I have not achieved this passive distance from my pain, past and present, as well as suffering as described in this video. 

We all know pain makes great music, cracked open and heart wide I think I've made my best record yet (the lone wolf meets the underdog) -- it's my "divorce record" all songs I've written in the last 2+ years after leaving my marriage.

I started this passage when I was in a lot of pain! 

I'm not in the deep emotional pain anymore, that was hard! But I still have some pain problemos. I have TMS; if youre interested in pain disorders. I'm trying to reorder it; that is my New Years Resolution. I really think I can help myself, I'm quite hopeful! This pain disorder centers in the brain and essentially cuts off oxygen to the muscles, sending a message that there is a problem there...but guess what!!!?? There is no problem with my back it is quite strong!

Anyway, back to my record. It is true! I have made my best record, and it was well-received.
It's not live on itunes yet but I'm hoping it will come soon.  See a review here>
It got a top 10! See here:> 

Imma start my year with some resolutions but I haven't written them yet........

Mexican Not American

The Spanish Man was a gentleman.

The Spanish Man is NOT Spainish, he is Indio and the the color of his very dark reddish skin is enchanting. 

Those that send money home are delightful; but they may not believe in Christ which is fine by me; since I don't either. No Le pregunte sobre La Virgin.

I promised myself I would never date another Mexican; and don't mean Chicano, cause they are very possessive. And Macho. But dayum he could fix my car (mechanico) or likely help me with anything around the house, gladly. And that skintone! 

An American man or boychild wants a booty call; to meet at the club, for you to pay his meal or have sex before its time but the Indiginous Mextizo will take a girl to eat at her favorite Mexican food restaurant, let her order whatever she wants, allow her to take HERSELF to the club, cause she wanted to ride the scooter;  but still waits outside to pay her entrance to the club.

...Buys her fizzy water unsolicited, does not get wasted or take drugs and dances all night to Cajun music and wears sexy boots like the campesino that he is. 

Not country-western boots, COUNTRY boots. 

The Indian would have liked to take her home but does not in a million years expect to; speaks Spanish to her/me all night nor does he expect a kiss but probably would have delighted in one. 

He dances close but is not aggressive; and did not shove his tounge down her throat unexpectedly like the white man with the blonde mustache did on his first "date"; outside the same club; which actually wasn't a date at all. 

He works 7-5, M-F plays futball, tiene cuerpo athletico, goes to dance, and is my same age which makes me feel good and not competitive. Tomio tantito Cerveza but surprisingly does not chastise me when I smoke a cig. 

Discusses machismo, and says he hopes I never see his machismo side though if dates continue that is certainly inevitable. Girl has already felt the pull of possessiveness. 

So entirely NOT sure if dates will continue; not knowing if the color of skin can sustain the relationship, cause I would marry into that skintone; if only for a greencard or an even better permanent resident alien Visa. 

Babes Babes Babes! UGH Never Have I been so in love, nostalgic, and obsessive for you.

One sleepless night.

One documentary about Bob Weir; where said sleepless night found me snoozing to the delight of who is Bob Weir. 

One Fresh Air Interview with Bob Weir. 

A thousand plays of the record American Beauty as of late. 

Crying to said record. 

Feeling not so much like an American Beauty. 

Being surrounded by real time gorgeous smart, talented American Beauties. 

Being told unprovoked, many times that I'm one of these American Beauties. 

Not believing I'm worthy of the label. 

OK here it goes: confession is progression for me! Gotta get it out. 

I have been quite circular as of late in my thoughts surrounding my age, the grateful dead, my musicianship, my age, and the ages of others. 

ALL I NEED IS A SNUGGLE

And, maybe a loving touch. And a daddy. In this pursuit I have found myself in trouble! I have a dad, of course, but don't feel very connected. It doesn't take a rockstar therapist (though I certainly have one) have had several, in fact, to tell me that I need to: 

a. give myself the love I need

b. take care of the inner child

c. not rush into physical relationship

d. avoid the {{{compare and despair}}}

The last few people I have dated have all been younger than me; not by much, maybe a year or three. But I've found myself unexpectedly attracted to younger man. 

Anyway, I don't know what has happened. I've always gravitated to older men. ALWAYS> I like smarter men, too, smarter than me, please. And colorful, please.  But, lately I've experienced a certain egoism with my collected experience. Digressing...

For these reasons I'm not normally attracted to youngsters. And this particular one is not a good idea for me for reasons I'm not willing to write in public. 

Insert the Grateful Dead obsession. I have been feeling low, that I should be younger, more beautiful, have had earlier success, more talent, ad nauseam fears. 

Bob Weir comes into my life again. He has written his first batch of new songs in 30 YEARS! lol. Wow. Go Bob. Check out "Blue Mountain"

So far, they are a beautiful collection of songs. Thank you Bob. Getting to know him through his interviews has jogged my memories. 

There is a certain summer in 1991when the Grateful Dead was going to be at a three night stint in Las Vegas. (my current ((but not only -- I'm not crazy)) romantic interest was a 3 yo) 

My sister (yall know, the one and only taken to the other side way too young at 32) my best friend Laura Rosenbaum and I packed up our Birkenstocks, some beer in a cooler, and bought some tickets to the Dead and started the cross country path to Vegas. We had one ticket each for the nights. 

We got into a rollover car accident. 

We ended up, upside down in a ditch. 

We were all safe, but rattled. 

I don't remember how we got home; but we all got MIP's that came back to haunt me later$. 

Back in Austin I was LIVID not scared> how could this happen? Somewhere in my mind I knew it was my one and only chance to see the Dead (as it was) and my two best friends from high school, the Boyd twins were meeting me there. My compadres stayed behind.

The twins and their older brother Normie introduced me to the Dead; and in '89-'91 hippy culture was back full on. Me and my friends listened largely to Cream, The Dead, Cream, and the Dead, Neil Young, and I personally loved Joni Mitchell. *along with some Judy's, Paul Simon, & Lenny Kravitz. Let Love Rule? Mamma Said? Retro CLASSIC AMAZING love it still> Nostalgia.  

Anyway, I powered on. I bought a one way ticket and found myself one day late to the show I had ticket for. 

I looked and looked for a miracle. I didn't have to look hard. It was called "A miracle" if someone gave you a free ticket in; a spare ticket. 

I entered the stadium. I found my friends. I lost my friends. I got lost in the culture. I have NEVER experienced anything like it in my life since. 

The vibe was SO LOVING. I was not on acid yet. In one splendid moment The Dead was playing "Women are Smarter" it was religious. A real spiritual experience. 

I took some liquid acid. It didn't work. I slept in a bush on the strip. I wore a hippy skirt with a draw string and paisley's. 

I rode home with a sweet girl I met and we got gas vouchers all the way back; from you know various churches along the way. I bet you didn't know! Neither did I. It was a huge pain in the ass but it was an adventure. I've never seen her again. 

Now that those days are long long passed (I have never experienced anything that loving in a huge group of people ever, a real love fest filled with amazing music...) 

WHY ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH WOULD I WANT TO ERASE THAT TIME, DISCOUNT MY EXPERIENCE AND PRETEND I'M A MILLENNIAL? 

I'm a GenXer all the way. And I need to feel empowered by that; or just empowered for who I am. 

Sometimes I do. The beauties around me, they are largely 27, 28. They haven't started aging yet. They are talented and gorgeous. They could easily be perceived to my arrested mental state to be a threat. But they're not. 

They have so much to offer me; and I cherish them. I cherish what is real. You know who you are. 

Time travel // some other lifetime

Spain! We have one more night together. I already miss you; your cobblestone streets, your strong cafe con leche, your gorgeous women....

Last night on the street, on my way to meet Raindogg, I passed an old man on the corner playing beautiful Italian style accordion. I dropped 3 euros in his cup and asked to take a picture - I started the video so I could share him. The video on the phone wouldn't work. As I got more and more excited about his playing his tune; he started playing more and better, playing to me. 

He was amazing, like something out of a Fellini movie. I started tearing up, overcome with joy.

I still don't know what was causing my emotion. I let him know he moved me to tears. He nodded his head.

In three minutes....

In three minutes the alarm will go off. I've been up all night, and for nights on end really. My spirit is quite thrilled with the state of things, so very much that it doesn't want to rest.

Ug. Jennie and I are at a hostel and I have Bob Marley on the earphones to literally drone out the hurricane orchestra of snoring that Jenni is infamous for. 

Our car got locked in a parking garage leaving us in Tarifa unexpectedly for this night. This is surfer town with a bunch of hipster surfer Europeans. I think we all wish we could stay longer and meet people but we pushing on. 

I have been reflecting at my burst of art luck; traveling to foreign countries to play, getting to play ACL this year, and singing with two different country musicians on records (more later I don't want to jinx) and a new record that I'm so proud of.

.....but it has not always been. How did I make it through that traveling drought that lasted 5 years? I went nowhere I was too broke, and or I didn't have anywhere to go. Or I didn't want to go anywhere I'm not sure what happened, but I had a long period of vast creative nothingness exciting; which for me is rather intolerable. 

I was depressed, yes, and I think this is a period following my sisters sudden death; and I was good to hang onto my own life, not drowning just as she did. 

Ironically, the descent to fun now, 10 years in the making, started with a little church my husband and I bought in the country...in Bartlett, TX. 

It was a Victorian manse he found online, and he got excited. We went out to see it: two properties across from each other; one a huge Victorian house that was falling in but still had a ton of charm. 

The other, a property I bought myself:: a little house on the prarie church with huge clear stained glass windows on all sides. 

Bill was selling the two places; about 50g each. He worked in Fort Hood for the army but moreover, he was a psychic medium. 

Walking around the two places, he asked me-- do you have someone that passed over that looks like you? I don't want to scare you (the place was filled horder style with a ton of crap; and a piano) 

...but it's terribly distracting. She's running around; she's playing on the piano right now she's so excited for you about your new church. 

I'm sure I burst into tears. It has been 2 years since her death and I was a shell; going through  the motions; playing guitar in a band I started called the Easies, simple garage rock. 

He said I know nothing about music, but she wants to tell you something. It might be hard for me to explain it to you.

He described the neck of the guitar, the head, the tuning pegs. He said your sister is pointing to these things; she said, "you sound like crap."

"You need to set up your guitar" change out those pegs for better, set the action. I was playing a red Epiphone full hollow body made in Japan in the 90's.

He said a lot more things, about how depressed I was, she was worried about me. He said things only she would know, like when we were high in Barbados and with my cousins on a family trip, and a guy tried to give us a ride. They all wanted to go into the car- we were lost. 

Well, I actually was the only one that was high out of my mind but I got a bad vibe. She said (through Bill) you saved our ass. 

Anyway, only things my sister would know. A drought of shitty shows, and no traveling insued while I went under trying to pay for the church - I was broker than I have ever been. 

I stayed in touch with Bill for years; and he, with a couple others, guided me out of that joyless funk.

Yesterday in Tangier, all us musicians were in a rug shop. I'm obsessed with Persian rugs - like my dad. 

I went up to the top to look more. I was there alone with the sales men. 

They rolled one out for me. Prayer time happened, it was 5:30. The Muslims started singing....

I hit my knees And stretched out my arms and said give me a minute. 

I connected; I said thank you. I said sorry I have been in joy land for so long, in a sensory hurricane of music and earthly things. I said thank you God. 

After 5 mins I got up. The sales man said why are you crying???

I said you all connect 5x a day.....

Nurkie and band 

Mike and Kevin treated us to food and a cabana on the Mediterranean :: they are 2 NYers that came to have fun with Raindogg, my bass player....Mike featured right:-) it was a 1500$ day. That's Euros people!!!!!! Lol 

A real true recovery story:::when the spiritual malady is overcome, we straighten out mentally and physically

Ugh!!!!!!! I'm dragging my feet through another fourth step you know who you are. 

2 big raging resentments have eradicated my sleeping, eating, joy and that lovely serenity that I have missed. I'm rarely too serene anyway, but I'm down to 119 pounds and I've rarely been this thin. 

Manytimes relationships about face and people don't act right. One thing that has helped me is saying to myself: People, including me, are allowed to end friendships and relationships at any time. Usually people are shit heads about it; and that is what I'm angry about. Not the loss itself even. I'm hurt. 

I wanted, instead of focusing on the loss, recount in brief a successful recovery story. 

Http://meetmyfriendbonnie.com. It should be a website but it's just a relationship. One of 10 years plus. More like 15. Bonnie and her twin were in my first meeting ever; I was 27. 

Duuuuuuude! Me and Bonnie had been at odds for nearly 10 years. Many in the community have experienced how her personality is trying, rough, aggressive, bipolar, etc. she is troubled. 

She was openly aggressive and mean to me; like the time I said hi and she yelled something rude in the parking lot back at me at Cafe Mundi. At that time I laughed and said, "that's Bonnie".

Butt I was also intrigued by her::: she's gorgeous, musically talented, and wears great clothes. 

All the beauty outside didn't mask her troubles. Hot and cold people drive me crazy I hate being around them. And that's her. Nice one minute and mean the next. I would see her multiple times a week. 

At a really low point in my life, after my grandpa died, I was unexpectedly depressed. (That grandpa wasn't that great in many ways but I digress) The house went to shit for months on end. I remember that; and one day I had enough of Bonnie. I picked up the sword and started an emotional war with her. 

I decided, in my fucked up way to hate her with all my might. I was going to kick her ass too! At the peak of this war, at a meeting, she shoved past me on a stairwell when I refused to move and I threatened to throw her down the stairs. Not my shining moment! 

After multiple 4th steps on her my sponsor said look you need some outside help. You've already done the AA work around this; this is family of origin issue. Deeper; way deeper than her. She triggered my abusive upbringing and all the anger at her-me-them was a lightening rod that was about to send me to the hospital. 

I got a therapist that did EMDR (thank you SIMS) again, and again you saved my life and countless other musicians....we're sensitive beings!

Kathy helped my process my trauma with sounds that bounce from ear to ear; I'm not sure the science but when you think about what troubles you; it helps move it from your left brain to right brain. Trauma gets stuck in the brain of some; and stays there haunting through triggers that happen in normal life. Kinda like when veterans of war hear gun shots and jump; out of fear. 

I processed the fear around her (my brain was reacting like there was a physical threat every time I saw her; a fight or flight reaction) and it was absurd; but very real to me. I thought I was going insane.

After a very few rounds of EMDR (the first time I did it my subconscious brain flipped like a rolladex firing off old experiences and making connections so fast my conscious brain couldn't keep up with it)....

I was sane again and I decided my plan of dealing with her. 

I simply ignored her so completely that she didn't exist; I wouldn't be in ear shot or eye distance and if I was I'd move. A few times severe fear flared up again but mostly it was gone. I continued this for years! About 4. 

After my divorce, about 1.5 years ago I told (my) heart-wrenching story full of tears to a full room of recovery people. I don't hold back or mince details; I told only the truth and I didn't gloss over my personal struggles. I hate when people share about how great it all is - being sober - bull shit. It's hard. 

Let me clarify: it's not hard to abstain from drinking. I mean life is hard because people die, you disappoint the ones you love, and don't get the things you think are going to make you happy and when you do get them you're still not happy. 

There's no way around grief and disappointment but through it; and if i don't pass through it;  it will eat me up via misery and self loathing. Lol that's just me. 

Anyway I told this here story and felt the joy of expressing myself. B was in the front row and I had to angle myself not to look at the pretty not so pretty mug.

Afterwards she came up to me in tears. I'm sorry I do this she said. (Paraphrasing) I act mean and I don't want to be that person anymore. We are both going to be in this meeting. What have I done to you for you to treat me this way?

I said, (paraphrasing) you did just what you said: for no good reason, you have been mean to me  from day one targeting me with your anger and hostility. I have hated you a long time. I think you're an interesting person and we probably have more alike than different.

I appreciate your bold apology and I forgive you. Let's hug. 

YEARS of tension melted instantly. For another year I stayed clear maybe giving a slight smile or a wave but never getting to close....

Until last weekend. She came over to talk to me and sat by me at a meeting. 

Huzzah! If only everyone could be so honest, so brave, so real. So willing to heal.

This pop culture sex! I find it all quite depressing! Early sexualitymeets midlife crisis

The book I'm reading, girl on a train::: it's quite depressing! Interesting yet sad:: alchoholics, love lost, longing. Train rides, alcoholic blackouts, infidelities....So  far I can't stomach it too well; but I read on.

Same goes for the Netflix Stranger Things:::a young boy lost/missing, a girl losing herself to a boy before she's ready. Innocence lost....it's all so Generation X! By that I mean misguided and troubled. It's Even set in the 80's. Poltergeist mixed with ET and Lynch's Fire Walk with me. I'm only watching it cause everyone said how great it is. We'll see.

It has, in a way brought me back to my earliest girlhood romantic and sexual experiences; and I only write this that I might not continue to make the same mistakes; though I might.

I have mommy AND daddy issues I laugh to my recovery friends. 

My very first boyfriend, Harper*, in Houston. We had a lovely time of it! I'd ride my bike to his house after school and we'd spend hours smooching. I don't know if I thought about love for 2 seconds; it was not very intimate but it was playful. 

About after two weeks he asked me to the movies; where all of our schoolmates would be. I got a weird vibe. He was ignoring me; I was what? 13? 14? I knew something was up and he soon dumped me for my teammate: a very tall blonde volleyball player. I don't remember what else happened but me and that volleyball player spent the next 6 years together playing on the same team; all the way to Varsity. (Sports kept me out of so much trouble) I don't remember her apologizing but she might have. Im sure it was awful; but I don't recall much emotional pain associated. 

My next experience I remember was falling for a guy named Jason. We're still friends!!!! He had a hurt knee and was in the girls volleyball courts working on physical therapy everyday. He was a Christian. The ball would roll in there every now and again; and we'd have a fun discourse. He was a senior though, and me a freshman. We did this all year, hanging out as friends, writing notes, just being silly. When the end of the year came, he asked my sister to his Senior prom! She was a junior. They barely knew each other. I cried. I remember her saying i had no idea Ally. We never did go for the same guys. 

A year later when he would come home on college break we did end up messing around- in my room! Mom was calling me on the phone (I guess I had my own line) lol put the door open, NOW. 

The next guy, I was maybe a junior? Don was a soul crusher. Older than me by a year He was the only artist I knew. We talked on the phone for weeks, hours at a time. I went on a jog and ended up at his house one day. We fooled around more than I had with anyone. It went pretty far but was quite one sided. (His parents didn't seem to mind the door was closed) I remember I used to pass him everyday between a class, and we would always say hi-- but we would never stop and talk. (Red flag!) Even as our phone conversation grew. The day after the heavy sexual exchange, I was excited to pass him, to see him. He ignored me; played the "I don't see you game" I was crushed. We never spoke again. 

Then there was Clint! He was a character; from the other side of the tracks. He revealed to me he had tried crack. It was startling; and I wasn't impressed. By this time I had done some drug experimentation on my own.

Clint and I Did a lot of phone talking and some house parties. But I grew tired of him i'mnot sure why. I don't remember much behind that. We had one more chat after I moved to Austin.

Ugh! There was Tim. I was impressed cause he was a drug dealer. (Burgeoning Underworld girl) I was exposed to joints, X, that's about it. I was all about him for a hot minute but I dumped him unceremoniously. He was hurt. 

Then the whopper! Eric**. I didn't even date him; but we were friends from art class and he was cute, a surfer. We're still Facebook friends and I guess there's a small chance he could read this. I hope he does, lol. He had a long-term girlfriend. I thought they broke up. My mom left me (I was a senior by then) for a trip to Hawaii. It was during the school year and I made an excuse not to go; I had to apply to college... I should have gone on that trip. 

I painfully lost my virginity to someone I didn't love or even really know too well. It was my choice; and I still regret it. 

All is to say? I'm confused. Still making unhealthy choices around my sexuality. Still learning what my boundaries are. 

I said, today, to my therapist, men are disgusting;  in response to a sexual pass one of my good guy friends made at me the other night; unprovoked. 

She said, well, no, some are. But many have learned that they can push over boundries that women have set for them. 

She said its your job to keep the boundries you have set for yourself. 

I think if I could have more clarity and insight to myself, and around my boundries (never my strong suit) I wouldn't have made or continue to make such crushing romantic mistakes. 

I really do. 

**footnotes

Both Harper and Eric are fat and ugly now; they look like Texas sized frat boys

If life is so hard, why do I stay sober?

Yes it is! It's HARD! Not without its joys, but man this year is a bitch. Recently lost 2 best friends::: really three if you count my cheating manboy, I do miss his companionship but.......Imma...

Keep on trucking! One of the girls honesty; good riddance but man what a selfish one! Thanks for all you've taken. 

The other, a simple parting for awhile. Or forever, either is fine. I've made two other new friends, both funny, smart, gorgeous, crazy, loyal AND darling::: sober too- to fill up my dance card again. BONUS: Another One! That makes three - a dike new best friend - I get to see how the other half lives. 

I was reading an amazing article by a newly sober woman and I got to thinking: Why? Why do I stay sober when everybody else is cutting loose and tying one on? Escaping from their day with a margarita? How do I carry on!?'

I rapid fire thought of some reasons why I keep on keeping on; trudging the sober road to happy destiny....vain or otherwise 

-I don't wallow in pain; or drink it down; I process it and TRY and move on. How many regrets and resentments I had when using! How looooooong they stuck around to slowly eat me alive; shit piles up when you check out.

-I can forgive AND say I'm sorry....it was rare for those two things to happen in my previous life

-I have goals and I achieve them; sometimes quickly sometimes slowly...but regardless of those goals I know what joy feels like - and though it is illusive at times, I know it will return.

-my spirit tells me what I like- cause before I wasn't clear so I just quiet down and listen and I call my angels to guide me and on a good day my head doesnt race and it stops forcing its hurt ego on me

-I don't believe in the bible my dear readers, to me the book is just allegorical stories, HIS-stories passed down and Jesus is ok, I like him but he's not going to save anything or come down from the sky. Just listen and get some support.  It could be Jesus or the Buda does it matter? 

-I will never have the right to feel truly that I'm Alone, or lonely, or beyond help because in recovery support; life bearing support is only an honest conversation away. It has saved me so many times.

-I know how to ask for help or more importantly when I need to ask for it

-I realize I LOve Humans! I'm a people person. I rarely want to chit chat for hours in a bar (I didn't even enjoy that when I was drinking) I like to dive into an affirming conversation that leaves me thinking more about less; with people that I have a connection with; and I like to see Facebook and know what you're up to so I can celebrate your achievements or pray for your dog; and listen to you new songs on my own time.  

-I DO things, I don't sit around or do the groupie thing I got too much raw talent for that but I do love a talented troubadour; always have.

-I've got more money. A lot more! I'm doing quite well thanks I'm good. I can take care of myself and for a long time, in sobriety and before, I was crippled with fear about it cause you know, I'm an artist and we don't get paid that good.

Maybe it's the law of attraction! I believe thoughts can help guide you out of a depression or bad state or money problems but I think it's bullshit to say you brought trouble upon yourself cause you weren't thinking about the situation positively. 

Bad shit happens to good people folks.

And like mommy said, though I hate it, life isn't fair. IM the drunk IM the one who took it to far, I'm the one that turned myself into a pickle; and as they say, once a pickle always a pickle.

I picked the guy, I ignored the lies, I didn't want to let the sex go and the good parts that I'm not entirely sure outweighed the bad; but imma pick the pieces up again; a bit everyday and move my ass on down the line just watch me! 

Its not going to be made easier with pot (I done smoked enough for all of us) Telling lies doesn't go down easier with a drink either. 

I'm gonna take my damage and I say move on down the line towards some more self-respecting place hopefully clearing some of the wreckage that is life; lightening my load in the process! 

I cry to strangers that enter the garden

Hello New York! I really haven't missed you and I find myself wishing for a vast natural landscape; but then how would I feel differently anyway? I've earned this opportunity; a mantra my dear and oldest friend gave me.

I pray that the city doesn't feed me it's dark energy as it has in the past, and I look desperately for the goodness in the smelly summer August in the big apple.

I find some. I find a lot! I find it in the people. The amazing New Yorkers - man they don't disappoint.  In a fragile state, after my garden meeting with the curator I immediately go to a gay & Lesbian AA meeting at the Betty Ford Clinic; Hazelton; which is located near the garden I'm installing my glass work in. I mean isn't this THE HAZELTON!? How many addicts have passed through these doors on the verge of death; to recover and enjoy life again. 

It is a very small meeting but I cried about my womanhood, my lying cheating boyfriend that I've recently dumped ::: (I was the last to know Paul said) and I talk about why I stayed - though much felt wrong, so much felt right too. I mean I'm guessing a good 6 months of cheats; and betrayal feels raw, mean and selfish. 

I look back now and see some signs;  but you know I'm a busy girl. I stay up late writing proposals, art grants and play many shows. I am ambitious and I have goals. My recent partner is a playboy; which is what I loved about him. I usually date really serious arty types; intellectuals; and geniuses. But Jeffrey was Good times; and he enjoyed nature more than the others; it got me out of my head. A balance is nice, though.

The city feeds me a few Angels::the tiny tiny girl lesbian in the AA meeting that is mixed race- a dike; she hugs me like her sister and I lean down so akwardly low to squeeze her as she explains how this too has happened to her and she got through it. And how the shame I feel is not my own and I need to let it go.

Today's dog trainer! Passing by the garden, I see him with several dogs /// I LOVE DOGS And already desperately miss mine. I ask him about his job and his background-- he is also mixed race maybe Mexican and Asian, and young, and he has met Cesar Milan. He is a natural at training but wants to be a vet.

He gives me some tips and I realize my dog Goose  has anxiety and I didn't realize it. He follows me incessantly around the house. This is anxiety the trainer says. I will work on it. That was today,,,,

But then there was last night. I haven't been sleeping or eating; stomach in knots but I already wasn't sleeping good for 2 weeks since the ex was away with his other girlfriend but I thought he was with so and so; and I hope my mom isn't reading this.

I dreamed my ex husband who I still adore but whom is not talking to me; I dreamed he had a new hot young girlfriend - he is 10yrs my senior) and that they had a kid together; and that he adopted her other 3 children. I watched them eat at a park table somewhere in my universe and I cried because I desperately want him to have what he wants.

So at the garden; today I'm wondering if this is going to ruin my hard earned experience here; 2 years in the making; and the only reason my heartbreak isn't killing it is I give myself license to cry to strangers in the garden. 

2 girls come through location scouting for a video; we get to talking they are both at NYU and born and raised New Yorkers...they talk about burning man and one tells me I would love her parents. Dad's a musician and moms an artist. Though her parents are much older than me (57) apparently they are more to my liking than the young girls to hang out with and I probably agree. 

I tell them about my lying cheating boyfriend and they tell me that's what the video is about; I didn't full on cry but it was in my eyes.

I didn't cry and yell until a shitty "human sexuality" major came through and asked me some gross questions about spooging; if I was single and what I thought over and over was disgusting or not. I starting crying and said leave me alone and the shitbag tried to give me a hug; and said he was sorry but still wouldn't stop asking questions about my human sexuality until I started yelling get the fuck out of here. I have the keys to the park; but still don't lock myself in. 

As we speak I'm at the whole foods in NoHo; the one near where another xboyfriend lives:  and he dumped me too (I hang on maybe too long; it's an attachment disorder from childhood); he also lied to me about another woman in his life; way back 2 yrs ago when I was considering moving here. Two trips ago I was in his hood obsessing of where he is and would I run into him? It was sickening how hurt and  mixed up I was at the time but I could care less if he walks through the door now; I'll see him Sunday were playing Sax together at my opening. 

I got over it. 

Reading Viv Albertines Book at the WFoods::: Clothes Clothes Clothes Music Music Music Boys Boys Boys.

Not everyone gets a horse

I'm reading that book Wild. I'm on a plane, headed to my next street band festival, Honk! In Boston, Providence and New York.

It's the 10th anniversary, and it's the biggest street band festival there is - I think. 

If you've read this blog you know street music has changed my life. I used to think street musicians were kinda like homeless people- sorta begging in a way. Excuse me! I'm from the burbs of Houston. 

Or, I would appreciate the street jazz musicians in New Orleans- but still kinda think that's not for me. Not until I joined The Marching Band.

I'm not particularly nomadic, so I don't fit the street musician lifestyle. But I do love my big Minor Mishap Marching Band- traveling 2-4 times a year, playing in the streets, making people happy- surprising them- and enjoying an alternative-lifestyles group of people. Smart people! 

I'm reflective- I'm going back this year and a lot has changed. Last year I was newly single after 14 years but had a boyfriend that I knew from this very Honk! Festival; the year before. I met him 2 years ago and my life changed dramatically in the coming year. 

He wasn't the reason but the impetus to leave my husband. I left because I didn't know, and couldn't see, a joint future anymore. 

But you know what? The man I chose to pursue was much like my husband! He is introverted and a bit sullen. He is a workaholic and a terrific musician. He plays sax and is a great talent. He is quiet and judgmental. He is amazing.

In short, he is a lovely person and I mean that. They both are. They ALL are I don't waste time with chumps. 

That lover has moved on, much to my dismay last year he dumped me on my last day of Honk! I was devastated and surprised. He's now married, he told me. I thought he was my guy but I was wrong. That's what I now know.

Godspeed! 

So not everyone gets a horse. But this  girl gets a sax!! A Bari sax to learn and play! And these songs aren't easy....I tell ya. 

Why are chicks SUCH Biatches!? To each other a lot of the time.

Part of me thinks people are just harsh on one another, in general - even as they turn and smile at you and give compliments...

...But I've noticed I'm really hard on female singers. I critique them harshly; probably more harshly than the men I see performing, singing. But when I love them I LOVE THEM SO MUCH, and for forever.

PJ Harvey, Cat Power, Holly Golightly, Eartha Kitt, Locals like Datri Bean, Lauryn Gould, Karla Manzur, Laura Scarborough, Liv Muellar...lord I can't think of any more that I like right now... The Catastica girls!!! ((You're welcome to add in the comment bar your favorites -- we all different I get it.))

But, in order to show I'm not a total bitch here is a link of 4 more I haven't heard of that you might like. See? I'm ok. you're ok.

I see a lot of live music! And, in a way, I can almost always find something to like about it: about the musicianship, the songwriting, their haircuts, their outfits : you know the important stuff.

But back to my perceived problem. Why don't I like the chick singers I see or hear on the radio that much? First off, there are a lot less of them to choose from. But, Here's what goes through my mind:

Their timber is harsh or grating, particularly in the high registers. Their songs are lame, they're pitchy (dude I KNOW I AM but I play the sax and I think that helps) They're boring to watch, or I happen to know them personally and they're not friendly or they're competitive so I can't get behind them. They're too vanilla, or they sound like someone else.

I was listening to a new female artist who looked very interesting to me: Andra Day. I saw her on the airplane back from Brazil. She is a hottie, black woman, with a very vintage 50's look. I LOVE RETRO! And Spike Lee directed her video. I watched it. I listened to her interview. I liked her a lot. Most of her songs seemed to be about relationships. The video was kinda boring. And, she sounded just like Amy Winehouse.

Look GIRLS if, when you open your mouth to sing and you sound like Amy Winehouse CHANGE YOUR SOUND. She'd regrettably dead, and she'll be the queen of that affected, distressed, I want to fuck you sound forever....

HO HUM. I can't stop.

I'm an intellectual! Is that so wrong? Art, underground music, and the age of Podcasting

Hi guys! It has been eons since I've made a post. I've wanted to, but I'm in a very scattered phase apparently and though I haven't been terribly busy, a chaos seems present that swirls around in my brain.

At the same time, I've been devoted to enjoying this long hot Texas summer. My new BF has a parks pass and we've been swimming a lot and cooking a lot! 

...I haven't seen my girlfriends in soooo long! Sorry ladies I'll come running when this pink cloud bursts. You too my brothas. 

I digress. What am I talking about? I'm thinking about this professor in college. It was when I was a freshman, and I think it was English Lit. 

He said the very first day, "Who here is an intellectual?" 

Only like 2 people raised their hands; Out of a HUGE UT class- not including me. He went on to discuss the art of learning, reading, expanding. 

He said lets talk about why that noun-jative (lol noun AND adjative- I made that up, see I so smart) is such a "dirty word" in our culture. 

I'm summarizing, but I'll never forget this. I don't remember what was discussed that day, or who this professor was, but in my mind it goes like this:

Our overarching American culture of censorship, suppression, conservatism and idealism enjoys weighing down ideas or ways of life that aren't conservative or more importantly free thinking. 

I'm not saying anything new! I know that. And this sounds like a diatribe. 

But my personal point is not to rant. 

It is that I love Podcasts. 

I LOVE them! On a flight to Atlanta (a stop on my way to HONK! Rio!!!! I'm going to blow some sax with Environmenta Encroachment, Brass Band Chicago) 

I have listened to 3 - all Fresh Air podcasts. With Terry Gross. 

The first was about The Ladies of Broad City - thank you gals you have made something that is laugh out loud funny and I LOVE the show) 

The next a writer Robert Stone who is now deceased; who wrote novels and memoirs about his life in the 60's with Ken Kesey and the Mary Pranksters, "Dog Soldiers" . I now want to read it! 

The third was/is I'm still listening to it/ a previous militant Islamist extremist who,  inspired by Orwells Animal Farm, moderated his thinking and beliefs and reformed himself. He puts us into the mind of how and why this thinking takes root. He tells us his amazing story! 

All is to say I'm obsessed with podcasts and before that, all there was was this crappy talk radio- but I listened to it, A lot! On my little radio. 

And now -- drumroll--- it's MY turn! I'm starting a podcast with 2 of my buddies. 

It's called On Common Ground and we are interviewing local ATX musicians about how a song of someone else's has influenced one of their songs. 

This is soooo me! Sooooo fun and exciting for me. I've always wanted to do something like this. And thankfully I have go-getter partners that know many of the new ATX artists ( they are a good 10 yes younger than me) and they are integrated into the new musical scene here. 

I am the older brigade. We are all musicians, and we all are enthusiasts. 

I hope the podcast feeds the brains of the intellectuals out there that live music, culture and the arts.

We release in the Fall! 

Erodica:: The Video Is OUT! Featuring Raindogg and DD Dagger

For the Erodica video (pronounced ERODE-ICA) Brooklyn Producer and Editor Raindogg takes us on a retrospective of the coolest Punk Rock spots in NYC in the 90's, eroding their hipster vibe back to reveal what it was, what it used to be: dirty, gritty, and abused. Spot Tompkins Square Park, CBGB's, ABC No Rio, the Physical Graffiti Building, Bleecker Street, 42nd Street and St. Marks. While Raindogg was just ”Waiting on a Friend" he found her, DD Dagger.

Painting A Day ::: The love of doing, versus the love of producing and the residency in my mind

Hi Art Angels!

I'm at a very interesting juncture in my life...This TERRIBLY interesting interview with Maria Popova (a genius philosopher at 30) on On Being had me in tears over I don't know what-- some deep rooted psychic issue. She just has these amazing quips about culture...stuff I think or don't think about, but that concerns me. Her Blog: I'm only sorry I haven't gotten to it sooner: Brain Pickings.

I have just come back from a self imposed workation / residency in NYC whereby I went to connect with artists, make a video, I did some sexy photos with my bestie there Actor Emily Ben, and Photog Ed Verosky and generally just soak up the culture.

I spent a lot of money! On just getting around, even though Raindogg let me couch crash for 2 weeks in his daughter's bed:)

I went to the Ballet, I went shopping at my favorite thrift in Hell's Kitchen, I went out, I spent WAAY too much time inside painting, Cause I'm in the middle of a Painting a Day Fundraiser.  I did Bikrim a lot!

I met some interesting Crown Heights Real Estate investors who took me and Emily out to very very expensive Fusion meal; and I had some of the most stimulating conversation there I've had in a very long while. Mostly cause I met Eric at that table, who gave me a short history of his rags to riches story with a hilarious delivery:: He grew up in the projects of Brooklyn, and now he's a millionaire, or some such:: more importantly, he fed me a dose of his wisdom. Frank, "my date" from Trinidad was also interesting, but he fed me, just not much wisdom. He wanted to get into my pants.

...We just danced and held hands for a second. That's about what I could handle. But I have made a couple of friends that I hope will inspire me, the same way Maria Popova does. Eric is JUST AS BRILLIANT >>> I have suggested he write a book.

Without going into too much of what he said, (he drove Emily NUTS she was like Stahhhhhp talking) I wish I had taped all of it, here are a few quips:

-He does a Brain Fast, I don't know how often:::: No negative thoughts or people for 45 days. If he has good friends or people he loves he does NOT talk to them.

-He says the worse type of negativity are the "subtle down on you thinkers"

-He has never listened to a phone message in 15 years

-He says "It's da Truf"

-and, "Everyone's an expert, even if they ain't shit"

-Most importantly, he says no matter how ugly it is, "Never, ever lie to yourself".

That night Eric and Emily went on their way and Frank and I went salsa dancing an local club in Williamsburg. It was SO PACKED there was no salsa dancing that was really possible, and I was really looking forward to dancing :( We stayed for an hour and I asked to go. I realized that I don't think New York is for me, only in doses. I thought to myself, How is this fun? Too many people crammed in seriously like sardines. The DJ's were talented though, and there were some live African drummers - but they never really cooked.

I'm still considering applying to go back to school there- but New Orleans is just as good of an option to me. Or I might not school myself any further.

Popova got me to thinking: because part of her thing she talks about in the interview is actual productivity versus producing. She claims (my words) that as a creative thinker, most of her time spent is listening to podcasts, reading, writing, musing:: Everything I love to DO! But, instead of a philosopher blogger girl, I call myself a bohemian. I like to read, write in my journal, paint and study music and do yoga. In a way I'm a big CLICHÉ!

I constantly struggle with the guilty notion that I'm not good enough, don't produce enough, am not popular enough, am lazy, etc. I want to be free of that, because many people around me tell me I'm inspiring and very productive. Unless every moment is spent, I often feel less than. In essence, I'm a typical neurotic Jew.

I'm trying to retrain my brain. Because I want to rebel against this so hard that my fists are pumping.

My Painting a Day paintings are selling quickly! On a happy note:: I will make my fundraiser goals easily for Sacred Space and maybe have some left over. I am thrilled. Plus, mostly the paintings are good, meaning I like them.

Today's Painting a Day 

The Very Brilliant Eric from Brooklyn in mid sentence, a rich real estate investor.

A crappy Mural in NoHO

My generous host and collaborator, the producer/director/editor Raindogg

The day of my shoot : a selfie

Those burnt out buildings in The Village- where that guy was stealing gas and the buildings exploded

Forgive me blogger, it's been 1 month since my last confession

And guess what!!!?

I've emerged out of my state of denial into another state! Fear of my Bari, fear of my sax. I was noodling around on my very entertaining little Bb Clarinet, a Penzel Muellar Artist, when I realized I could blow out Klezmer solos, bend all the notes, and sound like the Jew I am + Gypsy.

The way you can bend notes on a clarinet is obviously why it is commonly the first choice in Klezmer tunes. I've been studying to my favorite Klezmer band of all time : The New Orleans Klezmer All Stars. 

That Clarinet player is BOSS. (ON Manichalfwitz) my favorite record. What he can do on that clarinet I've rarely heard. Anyway, at our last Minor Mishap practice I brought the clarinet to play around, and to get a real clarinet play to assess its tone. Well, no clarinet players showed up that day.

...A clarinet solo was coming:: in our song Marigny, so I snuck over, got it, to to my surprise I blew out a little solo that sounded Jewish. And no one was expecting it.

Later, Datri called me on another solo - on the Bari - in another harmonic minor song - and I could NOT bend the notes, I could NOT sound so much like a Klezmer. I was hurt.

The Bari does not want to be something it is not. It wants to be a grandpa, a husky low end. The notes are far apart on it for my littleish hands, I can't move them that quickly for all the years I've studied sax, and the upper register left hand keys sound like crap. I can't stay in tune.

Alto, I love you. I think that you are cute, little alto, as you sit on your stand - so easy to hold, so easy to grab.

You Bari, you take more effort. More effort to hold, more effort to blow and manipulate. But you demand attention, and you get it. I thank you for that.

I need to figure this out...is it simply a matter of skill? Personality? Determination?

While in my first year of playing the bari, about 4 years ago, people used to ask, Is it SO HARD? I always said, NaH! It's like butter! I was cocky. I was in denial. I've hit a glass ceiling and I'm going to have to rehearse my way through it.

It could be fun. But most likely...

....Sigh....

This post has nothing to do with MUSIC! and all to do with The Dom next door

Well she's not next door:: she's around lets just say. My fun-loving Dominatrix! Tonight, on this special night, I got to see her in action! Her house, OPEN, and full of chains and stuff! Her cabinets, with sex toys! Her stilettos casually, tossed about, and lube bottle(s) strewn. She has a slave, one that "gets off" on doing chores or whatever the Dom says. It's not sex, it's chores. THEY LOVE IT. Slap Slap do this do that! Look at me ! LOL It's so foreign to me, to be dominant in that way. And to imagine that it's someone's fantasy is wow.

Here's how I am dominant: zzzz I know boring. I'll get back to her in a second :-->>>>

- I lead a band, and it is MY project so I"m the boss, in the end. Though I try to take into consideration feelings, blah blah zzzzz I lead.
-i own my own business and don't take orders from many. I can't stand managers, but clients I love.
-I can be pretty bossy when I feel comfortable, but I don't hardly know how to ask someone to do something for me, or more to the point why anyone would help! I shrink at the thought that someone would spend time just HELPING ME. Regardless, people do come over and help me around the house (like Laurie -- thank you. she showed me how to Tile my kitchen) and I'm grateful. But, my main frame of mind is REALLY? Million Thanks! I"m always surprised. AND I rarely ask for help. I have to be pretty desperate.

Back to my girl! She is teaching me a lot about myself in reference to dominance and submissive roles and personalities. I've become more conscious of the types of people I have been dating, how I treat people and how they treat me, and the friends I choose...and... I ask her advice. Not cause she's a Dom, but because she's a good listener and gives good advice. She's very level-headed.

But mainly i'm currently interested in the psychology: Dominant and Submissive. Before my marriage ended, I read "The Erotic Mind"  A book recommended to me by my bff therapist. It was very fascinating, and reading that book it made me realize that I lacked a fantasy life!!!! I had none. Oh trust me I live in fantasy land...but it's more of in a spaced-out stoner way via arrested development.

Here's my favorite description of that book: The Erotic Mind is a breakthrough exploration of the least understood dimensions of human sexuality—the psychology of desire, arousal, and fulfillment. 

Back to the DOM! what part of the brain makes you want to be a slave to someone? I'm fascinated.

Also, more to my point, why do some people have great chemistry and others don't? THERE IS SOMETHING GOING ON. It's not just all "pheromones". It's how someone treats you, how they touch and interact with you. How they make you feel and how you make them feel, their backgrounds...etc.

But there is a part of the brain that controls all of this and it is really mysterious. Because people are mysterious. And varied, SO VERY VARIED> Everyone is so different. It really is exciting in a way: the brain.

I think the Dom has said it over and over that everyone is slightly different. I think it's her job to be confidant that she can deliver what they like. I'm not sure, but maybe it's not all that different from people's various taste in music, or art.

Anyway, back to me and my woes: I got friend-zoned today. Yes we had chemistry. We weren't boyfriends so it's not really a big deal. But, it was over before it started. And I knew it wasn't forever. So I can't be too overwhelmed. I'm a bit underwhelmed, actually. But I shed a tear anyway. I shed a tear for all that wasted chemistry. I know it can't sustain anything for too long. But I don't take it for granted, either.

Just like I'm not going to take for granted anything, really. I'm going to continue to live, let live, and learn from the DOM. !!!

I feel really selfish!!! The syndrome that centers in the Brain

Why isn't the garbage man picking up my trash? I swear to God if they miss this week again I'm going to freak. I feel the same way about my emotions these days. I missed therapy this week because I wanted to take the Brazilians that are staying with me to Mexico, the border town of Piedras Negras.

We had a blast - they are fun-loving amazing people- and I bought some beautiful brown boots that would cost $300 at Alan's Boots...but I'm suffering a bit, not sure why. I've been skipping my writing too! I'm going to my sax lesson in a few minutos and that centers me.

When I'm feeling selfish, hurt or confused I try and turn it around. I try to think, how can I think about your feelings instead of my own? How can I be of considerate of what you're going through? That might be compassionate but I have to think of my feelings too. I have to be careful about who I get close to. 

I usually walk around with a genuine smile, love of people, and pleasure for life but I'm terribly sensitive! I think too much and I think I have an anxiety problem. Maybe you wouldn't know this about me if you don't know me well because I don't show you! Lol but I'll write about it publicly. See how that works?

Because I am a "stuffer" of difficult emotions I've developed this disorder that I just learned about a couple of years ago. It's called Tension myositis syndrome.  I found out about it through my photographer friend and collaborator, Mark Zell. His wife has it. She came to my SXSW show. We discussed the syndrome, lol. It was nice.

So Sarno is a psychotherapist that characterized this condition: I'll describe it as a psychological pain disorder. It centers in the brain. It is TOTALLY a mind fuck and I don't think it's real, but it's real nevertheless. It is real because it gives me debilitating back pain, which is also information to me that somethings wrong with my life. In other words I have garbage to take out. WhOA.

It was made famous by Howard Stern. Watch the video:::  Is it any wonder the Jews are heading up the promo on this??  LOL Stern, Larry David.

The brain is a major wonder. I have a lot of questions for my own brain. I would like to hit these questions up in a future post.

OH guess what? The trash man just came by. FULL CAN done. Out, over with. Until next week's full can of trash....