Monday, August 31, 2015

Sisters of Mercy


In third grade my teacher at Catholic school was a nun named Sister Leonce, I think. If I am wrong, if anyone wants to correct me I would be happy to hear what her name was. And while you are at it, I cannot remember what the order the nuns were. Were they sister’s of mercy? Luckily some of the Good Shepherd kids read my blog and might be able to help me out here. (This is what blogging every night with two kids looks like: I think of things and have no time to fact check, barely check spelling and grammar, and so it just gets written, it is a work in progress.)

Side note: a bunch of the nuns had interesting names, some with a French origin. There was an ancient ancient librarian named Sr. Victoire, Victoix? I am not sure of the spelling, but the pronunciation was Vic –TWAH. Pretty cool name, she could have been 100 years old, and she wore a black habit and floor length dress, unlike some of the more modern nuns who embraced the 1970’s styles for nuns of lighter colors and just below the knee dresses. She wore black stockings and boots or high cut shoes that she could have been wearing since the turn of the century. Sr. Victoire was hunched and wrinkled and may have been going deaf or blind, and ultimately was not so pleasant to me.

Sr. Leonce, on the other hand, was a decent egg as far as I recall. One day a boy was giving me a lot of attention. Attention from guys made me incredibly uncomfortable. It was late in the afternoon, we were all just reading at our desks, doing nothing. I was reading a Paddington Book. The teacher was sitting at her desk, not teaching and she got amused by this boy. I am not sure what he was doing but he was making a show of his affection. She called him up to her desk and he told her that he liked me. They had a conversation about it. Then he sat down and she called me up. She just chatted with me which was something I had never really experienced before, not from a teacher, or any grown up ever, really.  She was light and playful and she asked me some questions good-naturedly something like, “So, is M giving you a hard time? Does he like you?” Something like that.

I was a deer caught in the headlights. I had no idea where this was going. I was used to things going haywire and me figuring it out before it did and knowing how to duck and cover, knowing how to survive, knowing how to take care of myself. I had been taking care of myself since birth by figuring out what I was supposed to do to suffer the least possible hurt but I could not figure her out and know what to expect. I stood there and kind of shook my head and grunted, kind of answered her and she smiled and scooted me back to my seat. Nothing happened.

I went back to my seat and held the Paddington book in front of my face for privacy and I sat at my desk and cried.

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Death comes sweeping down the hallway in its sunday best


Dr. Wayne Dyer passed away.  I am very sorry to hear the news but alas, they say that he was excited about transitioning and seeing what is next in the adventure. His presence on the planet will be missed but his extraordinary body of work remains.

I am facing so much death and loss right now and thinking about it all. I have been telling my daughter about what might happen next when a person dies. She is full of wonder and questions and since I have no idea, only ideas, I am trying to pass those along to her. She is into reincarnation and heaven and the rainbow bridge and a person’s spirit that lives in our heart, that can be with us always. I am leaving the door wide open for her to explore. All I know is that photos of Loc have been magically turning up around our home and Vietnamese woman are randomly entering our life and I am encountering older asian women, looking at me knowingly, everywhere I turn, and it is not a coincidence as far as I am concerned…

I have also been researching this new green burials and cremations where the bury your un-embalmed body or your ashes in a graveyard that is just a field of wild plants.  I have more to say, but this is just about all I got tonight. More on that tomorrow...

Rest in peace Wayne Dyer, or fly in wonder. xH

Saturday, August 29, 2015

Questioningly


There is this one actress who is in a few things and she is amazing, really out there, brilliantly vulnerable to the point of unease on the viewer’s part but you cannot take your eyes off of her. I can’t, anyway. She makes you wonder if she is that good or just nuts. She was at a party I was at and at first glance she seemed nuts in full drag at a backyard daytime party, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt, I related to her. When I was in my 20’s I did the laundry in full drag, heels, couture, floor length pieces, and false eyelashes. I put on the whole bit just to go out in the daylight and lug a heavy bag across the street. I was on my own glamour planet, I get it. So I let her dress code slide. Then I heard her talking to my daughter.

They were both petting an old dog who was laying on her back, happy to have her belly petted. The actress said to my kid, you have to pet her right here and she scratched the dog as close to her reproductive organs as possible without it being sex. My girl just looked at her like she was weird and said “That’s her privacy.” The actress said “No its not, her privacy is over here.” My kid knew better than to argue with a crazy person and she was silent, continuing to pet the dog the way she was before the conversation, without engaging. The actress walked away. Kids can be so smart. Question answered. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d7mPZybiXf8, did the ramones really do a country number?

Friday, August 28, 2015

yes, Ringo, thank you...


This is a hard week for my family, so I did something hard for me, I asked for help. I sent and email out to friends and acquaintances in my area asking for help with the daily tasks and people were so kind and showed up so generously and helped me and most importantly gave me moral support. Everyone was so nice and it was so helpful and felt so good.

Tonight was the only night someone did not come. And what was amazing about that was that it made it so obvious how much the visits helped. I made it through tonight without help but it was so much easier the other night.

I have always believed in being of service and helping whenever I can and I have lived my life that way.  Still, I really feel uncomfortable asking for help and can rationalize how I don’t really need it but in the end I just did need it and do need it right now, and I took the action and asked. I find that people are happy to help when you ask. I am so lucky to have good friends.

Kindness saves lives! Peace out!



Thursday, August 27, 2015

New York City Snapshot 1982


There was a time when I worked at Flip on 8th street as a teenager and I would take a graffiti covered train from 207th street to get to work several times a week.. Before I got the job I had to get working papers since I was just 16 and I remember I went all by my self to some office somewhere, in Spanish Harlem maybe, and filled out a form and showed my birth certificate and then I was allowed to get a job and get a paycheck. I think that was where I got my social security number.

I would show up to work in tight black bondage pants that I custom made out of regular pants because I couldn’t afford the BOY of London version. My dyed blonde hair was long and shaggy and in my eyes and I would get bored steam ironing some cool vintage clothes that I would try on first if it looked like I might want it, or I would put price tags or security alarms on the clothes carry them out and put them on the floor. I would do all kinds of things to kill time, and take the clothes up in small bunches making lots of trips. I worked in the basement most of the time, but I just wanted to be out on the floor to see what was happening in the world so I would go out there every chance I got..

I remember one cool summer night I was working the bag check, sitting in the window of the booth, dangling my high top sneakered feet over the side, wearing lots of black eyeliner and my black leather motorcycle jacket even though it was summer, leaning my head back into the wall like I couldn’t care less, because I couldn’t, and just watching the crowds of people walking down the street. Eighth street used to be a vital thoroughfare, buzzing with modern energy, alive with the new wave vibe. Then in a blink of an eye David Johansen, former singer of The New York Dolls, walked into the store right past me and all of a sudden I cared. It blew my mind that someone so cool would shop with the common folk, wear what other people could buy, walk among us, lean and tall and all that and more.

Later, I would get off work at 8 when the store closed and meet my teenage lover who would wait for me outside the store with his drummer in the drummer’s van, parked illegally, and we would drive over to the east side and get pizza and get some beer and go see some amazing band, usually for free, because we didn’t have a lot of cash and we would get on the list somehow. Thunders, the Dead Kennedys, Lydia Lunch, Minor Threat, The Bad Brains,  The Ramones, Iggy Pop, the Cramps, and so many I cannot think of right now, they were all current acts playing around NYC.  It was all free and easy. We were young and alive and lazy and creative and running our own lives, manifesting our own destinies. We were in love in the greatest city in the world, at its peak. Everything was happening before our eyes. We knew things were pretty cool, did not take it for granted, but ran with it, wild in the streets. As I type this it almost does not sound real, but it was.

It’s never to late to live the life you want.


 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3RzBZsOeqOQ (oh fuck, it does not get any cooler than this.)


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3RzBZsOeqOQ

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Suffragette City 100 words on a Wednesday



It was a mere 95 years ago today that women got the right to vote. Men who owned property were voting for 226 years. African American men got the right to vote by 1869.  Those numbers speak for themselves. Susan B Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton, two of my all time heroes, spent their lives fighting for this right and died not seeing it become law. But their work mattered and eventually it did become law.  I honor them both today. Thank you. Brush up on Women’s history and teach it loud and proud to your children. This stuff matters.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKvHQTG91a8, yes I quoted this very intense song in my high school yearbook

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Down on the Street


The first time I heard the Iggy and the Stooges was at a club called 2+2 at a hardcore show, I forget who was playing. I’ve written about this monumental moment before. http://hollyramoswrites.blogspot.com/2011/12/cmon-shake.html I was a teenager, there with my boyfriend Jesse, and they were playing the Stooges over the PA and we were talking about the band. I had seen and heard all about Iggy in Creem magazine, but that was the first taste of blood. They soon became one of my favorite bands.

We always thought the lyrics to the sing “Down on the Street” were “down on the street where my baby shines.”  Most sources will say it is “where the faces shine”, but “baby” makes such a good lyric and Iggy was such a romantic, after all.

Past forward to: one time I made a flyer for the GREENDOORNYC club, I made all the flyers, but one time I made one and I quoted that song, “Ain’t no wall,” And I put the date on the flyer but I forgot the location and address. I remember Johnny Dynell of Jackie 60 saying something flattering about how we didn’t even need to put the location, referring to how underground we were. It was one of those brilliant mistakes. Of course everyone knew where the party was, or found out, the night was as crowded as ever.

Anyway, I was thrilled to see the song used so well in Diary of a Teenage Girl, which you absolutely must see, when they are jumping on the bed singing it like a page out of my life, some of my favorite lyrics ever written, “Aint no wall!!! Ain’t no wall!”


Monday, August 24, 2015

My first date


In 5th grade at the Good Shepherd catholic grammar school I liked this kid in my class and his friend liked my friend. One day the friend wrote a note to my friend asking if she and I would like “go out” with him and his pal. If yes, we could go to the park after school. 

Of course we both said yes. We said yes in a flash. Even though I was dreading the event, there was no way I wouldn’t go. I was dreading what “go out with” meant. I was dreading what we were supposed to do. What if my guy tried to kiss me. I was dreading the idea of kissing a guy, mainly out of terror of the unknown and not wanting to look foolish for not knowing what I was doing. The whole day I was a mess.

I remember that I wore an emerald green long sleeved leotard, which was a body suit by Danskin, and jeans. I met up with my pal and I remember both of our skinny 5th grade arms swinging by our skinny flat chested bodies as we strolled along together, tough and experienced babies, bravely venturing to the meeting place.

The guy I liked was great looking as far as I was concerned, but what I did not know at the time was that the other guy was the great one. He was funny, outgoing, social, and he made conversation and jokes. He made the double date a fun experience.  I had always gotten along with him, but never felt attracted to him. My date was just a snore in retrospect, he didn’t really talk to me or anything. I was fine with that at the time because I didn’t know that I wanted to be talked to, I was just terrified and happy to be left alone on some level. Going for the looks over the substance was a long standing pattern for me for many years. Bad idea, people.

I was conservative in the boy department for a long time. I just was not ready. I was interested but not ready, until I was ready, and then I did everything my heart desired. That was one positive trait about me. I was in terror, which was a shame, which was a product of my history, but at least I listened to myself.

After the date I “broke up” with the guy. That was enough for the time being. My friend may have broken up with her guy too or stuck it out a few days and then did it. I do not remember.  Ah, the horror of early adolescence. If your kid is in pain over an adolescent heart break just remind them that there is no rhyme or reason tot eh young brain. I am sure that will comfort them tremendously.

Even though I believe in divine decadence and trying everything and living life to the fullest, I am also a big fan of saying no. I always tell the youth in my life to say no if you are unsure if you want to do something. You can always say yes later, but you can’t undo what has been done. Life dances on….

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Goodbye


It is with a very heavy heart that I write tonight that my mother-in-law Loc passed away yesterday. She was an amazing artist and a strong elegant woman with much poise and beauty at 90. Her devoted husband, who never complained, noted that she never complained. Her son loved her with complete kindness and loyalty and she loved him the same.  My daughter had an other-worldly connection with her and is feeling a great loss. I owe her the world for giving birth to and raising my husband to be the amazing person he is. Thankfully we all got to say goodbye yesterday. I have so much love for her and will miss her presence on the planet. She got to see the world, know true love, live a long rich creative life and go peacefully at home with her family. We should all be so lucky. Much love and respect to you, Loc, as you journey on.

“I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says, ‘There, she is gone’



Gone where?



Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.


And, just at the moment when someone says, ‘There, she is gone,’
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout, ‘Here she comes!’


And that is dying...

Death comes in its own time, in its own way.
Death is as unique as the individual experiencing it.”
 - Henry Van Dyke

Saturday, August 22, 2015

To never never wonder why, to never never ever wonder why it’s got to be, it has to be.



Tonight was the kcrw summer nights party in China town. I should have blabbed about it before it happened so you all could join us, but my time does not always work that way anymore. So I danced under confetti and ate great food and ice cream with friends and kids and we had the best time. And all I can say is that I really needed to be with friends tonight.

Forgive those people you are enraged at (when you are ready, for you not them)
Love the people in your life
Have gratitude for it all
Life is so incredibly fragile and temporary
Be here now
I love everybody. I am so blessed.

Friday, August 21, 2015

In praise of good friends



Man, am I lucky. This is my very intense life this week:

-We found out we have a family member who is suddenly close to the end of life and that is all I will say out of respect for their privacy.

-I have a lump in my breast that has to be checked. I am not worried because I think it is the same lump they already cleared. There seems to be an error in the recording of the location, a clerical error. So I will deal with it. it is not ideal, but even though I am not that worried, it is always stressful to have to deal with this stuff.

-my girl completed her first week of kinder and man is that a rite of passage. If you have never done it, just trust me. HEAVY transition, but we did it.

-my son’s biopsy came back negative this week, which is great news but it is the kind of news that you still want to sink into a heap and cry over. I have so much going on that I have not had the luxury of a good cry, a letting go of all of that undisclosed anxiety.

-and if you have been reading, I left my job of 11 years this week.

I am pretty angry and tired. And I just want to say that I have amazing friends. Thank you Leanne for listening to me and empathizing and just validating that I have a lot going on. And for reminding me that it always goes back down. The stuff rises and falls.

And then Andrea!!!!!! I was dreading going to this school potluck picnic to meet all the families because I suck at that kind of stuff and am dead tired. Then my dear kind generous pal bought me food for home and two of those whole foods chickens so I could show up with a generous contribution without doing any work! You blow my mind, lady. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Because…

The picnic turned out to be amazing and I may have skipped it without such support. can i just say that  kids  we just met this week ran over to me asking “Where’s Nova?” which makes me feel much less anxious, because despite my social limitations, my daughter makes friends easy, which is all I care about. I  seem to make friends pretty easy too, since I met great families tonight and had a great time, despite my anxiety about it all.

We are so lucky to have friends. Isolation kills, get out of the house. Pick up the phone ( i know, sometimes the heardest thing we can do is reach out but just do it.). You have more friends than you think. Tell someone what is going on. Ask for help. People want to help. I write this to remind myself.





Thursday, August 20, 2015

some things change, some stay the same


So there are shortcomings that I work on, like the fact that I am a hyper-reactive person. So, if someone honks at me I am in the fight, “Oh yeah, Mother F*cker?” The reason is my programming, the goal is to let it slide off my back and the reality is that I go there in a flash, but I reel it back in faster and faster over the years. I can notice the reaction and stop it in almost as fast a flash as it started. One day, maybe, I will not take the bait. Maybe there are rare occasions where I don’t. It is a continuous work in progress that I participate in.

Then there are things that I will never try to change, it just is who I am and while the trait may not serve me, it is not a priority, like the fact that I have a difficult time in social situations, particularly around groups of strangers. It is not fun for me. I do not feel comfortable. I dread mixers where I am meeting all kinds of new people, or hanging around lots of mild acquaintances, for example when all the school parents get together. Yuck, it is a big anxiety fest. It is so much easier to write about my vulnerability here than be present when meeting a whole bunch of nice new people. The reason, I do not care why, the goal, I have none. I just grit my teeth and go when I have to. It always works out fine and I make new friends through no fault of my own and I still dread it. Thank you to all the socially competent people in the world who are generous to the inept ones. I appreciate it.

Ps, I am unable to handle one more thing right now, so cut it out universe, I am so done. There is no capacity left. Lighten the load. Lets chill to the beautiful sounds of Althea and Donna…..Love is all I bring…

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

The hipster soundtrack in 100 words on a wednesday


The hipster soundtrack has not changed in the last 20 years. Why is that? Roy Ayers, Nina Simone, The Stooges, an obscure Stones song, some funky soul out of Africa, some obscure kitsch, Sly Stone, hand picked... I remember my mom going to a party when I was a little girl and she came back and complained that they only played oldies. It was the seventies and they were greasers stuck in the 50’s. Then I pretty much emphasized the 70’s when I was djing the underground rock scene in the 90’s. Some things change some things stay the same.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

i am f*cked


I am a soggy beat up noodle

First day of kindergarten kicked my ass. My daughter is fine and I an ready for hospitalization, exhausted to the bones, and feeling unable to do anything tonight. Still I type.

There is not much to it. I like the school, I love her teacher, everything is going to be fine, but adjusting to a new routine is psychically depleting. The walk is the same length, many of the faces are the same, it is simply the few new rules and procedures, that have done me in.

My last five weeks have included traveling as the only adult with two kids to ny, managing being in constant physical pain due to some back injury, leaving the preschool community we were very bonded with, going through my son having an operation and waiting to find out the biopsy result, which was negative, thank you universe, leaving my job of 11+ years and having my daughter start kindergarten. Oh and throwing a wedding/vow renewal event. My husband also wrapped a big job and started a big job. We are packing as much life as possible into our summer months. Maybe that has added to the devastation, but I think it was just kindergarten, single handedly kicking my ass.

The thing is I have spent my ENTIRE grown up life avoiding the system and now I am a full-fledged card-carrying member, mother of a public school kid, up at 7am for the next 12 years. I hope I enjoy the ride. I am sure it will be enlightening...... I am scared to the core...... Ah, that’s it! Fear not felt is exhaustion, yes? (And anger not felt is depression, so if you are in that kind of pain, try to get in touch and get mad. Feel those feelings. I write this to remInd myself). Sorry I have nothing further to say. Love you all.

Monday, August 17, 2015

How do you thank someone who has taken you from crayons to perfume?


About 12 tears ago I drove past a little periwinkle building with murals on it and quotes about the arts and for no reason I thought, I want to work there, and through no effort on my part I wound up at a job interview there. I prayed that I would not get the job because I was not crazy about the hours, but I got it, and it was a great fit ever since. But the time has come to move on. 

Yep, today I stopped working at the job I had for over 11 years. When I started there I was a starving artist living with my boyfriend with a bad haircut and color, because I was broke. I was there through a marriage, 3 in vitros, 2 miscarriages,  2 adoptions, and one tedious legal battle that my side won. I made a couple of films and a cd, played a bunch of shows and toured a bit, and wrote a slew of songs and have really focused on writing. Oh, and I got to go to the academy awards where my husband won. I live a lot each day but I really lived a lot of life these last 11 years and through it all I had the wonderful opportunity of working with really cool people who were so supportive and inspiring and I’ve been allowed the opportunity to prosper wildly. I will miss that place.

I have worked since I was 13. I had the roof over my head and some food paid for till I was 19, and in college I got $200 a month towards my expenses but I paid for everything else, including tuition. I have completely supported my self since college and have continued to pay for half of everything as a married partner. I am a completely self-made woman, so not working for the first time in my life is a pretty big change. I feel terror, wonder and joy.

So I begin a blank page as of today. I brand new chapter. Right now I am in the throws of wild parenting and will take a year off till my son starts preschool and then the sky is the limit. I am excited to see what happens next.

As for right now I am just processing this big goodbye. "How do you thank someone who has taken you from crayons to perfume? It isn’t easy but I will try". Thank you from the bottom of my heart N and everyone at CTG.

I wish there was a feminine version of this sentiment….. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yTapoA5RQyo

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Sometimes we make mistakes and sometimes we avoid them.


Diary of a teenage girl!!!!!!! Go see it in the theater!!! Support!!!  Women, tell your stories! We need to hear all the stories about girls and women and life and love and sex and growing up and everything!! I particularly loved the scene where the friends have sex with the guys for money and then they both say how it was a mistake. Watching it reminded me of this story..

During my promiscuous time, I just wanted to try everything, to see what it would feel like, what would happen. One time I was at a club and the owner, or manager or whatever was making advances. He was an older than me, not my type, but I was curious. We wordlessly decided to hook up. So I hung around till closing and my girlfriend stuck around with me so I would not be alone till he got done with everything. When everyone else was gone, my girlfriend left the club and the guy locked the door with a key. It locked with a key from inside and that turn of his key terrified me to my core. I could not open the door if I wanted to.

So I acted extra interested in him, made my very best I-want-to-have-sex-with-you-right-now face, and then opened my eyes real wide and said that, opps, my pal had my keys and I needed to grab them from her and I would be RIGHT BACK. A great tool in a time of perceived danger, real or not, is to fake calmness and attraction. He opened the door and I slowly walked away with a flirtatious smile and then ran like hell to get away and catch up with my pal who drove me home. It probably wouldn’t have been dangerous, she said, just gross. Sometimes we make mistakes and sometimes we avoid them. Whatever it would have been, it never would be.

Oddly, the very next night I was out at Jackie 60 and the guy was there and he saw me. I was not scared of him in this neutral setting and I walked right up to him and said how I was oh so sorry about the other night and any misunderstanding, but I had been on acid (which was a big fat lie, of course). He had no idea what to make of me and I found his confused face hysterically funny (I waited till later to laugh). I went on to have a great night with someone else. I still have no idea if my terror was reality based, but alas, one must always go with their gut.  You can always apologize but you can’t turn back time.


Ohh, I remember dancing to this one at the Empire State Soul Club. ESSC forever!

Saturday, August 15, 2015

co workers part 2


So I work with this guy Al Berman, comedian, and one of the funniest people I know. What I love about him other than that he makes me laugh all the time is that he feeeels me. Al and I both had bands back in the days when we were running wild in the streets with our criminal minds and we have both given up the hustle for bigger and better things, but we still appreciate the hustle. We still have the kind of mind it takes and on occassion when there is a gaping hole in the system that only Al and I can see we will smile slyly at eachother across the room and then burst into hysteric. Yeah, we could if we wanted to, but we live a different kind of life now, mmmm hmmmmm.

The other cool thing about Al is that he loves great music and knows about punk. In the real world there are people who don’t know certain songs and certain bands and it’s not a big deal. I am married to someone who does not share my musical history with me. That’s fine. But every blue moon there is a moment when you think of a song or a scene or a lyric or an attitude and you just feel better when someone else gets you, feels you, knows what you are talking about. (The Beauty of my husband is that he will let me take him there and bring him to understand what I am talking about, I love him.) The beauty about Al Berman is that he already knows and he will sing it back to me in a beautiful voice. Love ya, Ber.

I have a theory that every person’s name is sung in some song. Mine is sung in “My Sweet Lord”, Holly Ramos, Ramos Ramos… Al’s is right here Al B there..

Friday, August 14, 2015

“Hustler” and my stream of consciousness exploration of the word


I always preferred a raunchy Hustler magazine to a airbrushed Playboy, I don’t know, more messed up, less full of shit? Hustlers of the Paul Newman ilk ran in my family. There was a long line of pretty criminals getting over on the man that came before me- tax evaders, horse thieves, black market big shots, number runners, after hour card dealers- and I inherited the trait, the drive, the gene, the mind that could find the weak spot in any system and figure out how to cash in. I did for a while with great family pride and then I got hip to the greater laws of abundance and the beauty of honesty and prosperity. Lucky me. Still I have a soft spot for the hustlers of the world, particularly the definition of the word relating to male prostitutes for men. I used to live across the street from the 9th Circle, a notorious gay bar, and all the cute young hustler would hang out on my stoop, looking to make a buck. How could you not love them? I was lucky to fall in with a bunch of them in the Blacklips/Jackie 60 days, some of the coolest cats around, some of the most fun times. And then there is the Ramones song “53rd and 3rd”, one of their best, written by Dee Dee of course, about that famous nyc corner the guys would work. 
…. Drats, I really wanted to post Jay Z's "Ima Hustla Baby" but it won’t play, so you're gonna have to go listen to that one on your own. Anyway, I was going to segway into more co-worker stories here (you know who you are), but you'll have to wait till tomorrow. Ahhh life.


Thursday, August 13, 2015

Co-workers



I worked in a gallery in Soho during college, it was my first real job and I even had health coverage. I only worked 4 days a week, but they fixed my hours to qualify for coverage, because my parents made me insist on it. My parents were working class first generation Americans, pretty much, and health coverage was a priority to them. They had a dream for me to become a receptionist so I would always be able to take care of myself. They also made it know that it would be even better if I could learn how to type. I never did.

I understand their seemingly odd dream of what to me looked like a lousy limited life. They came from nothing. No one in the family owned property or had savings. They worked to survive and they did not want to see me in a financial bind that they could not save me from. I, in return, did my best to stay covered, which is not a bad thing.

I was a pretty messy creature at that time in my life, (internally messy, if you dig) thrown from a crazy home into the real world with no life vest. I was lucky to land a job that worked with me and were kind enough to fudge the numbers so I could be covered. During the run of the job I had all kinds of experiences. I broke up with my first real boyfriend and fell into a bad depression for quite awhile.  I had a crew cut at the time that I started to grow out and I hated the way my bad transitional hair looked but did not know what to do with it so each day I would wrap my head in a white tee shirt tied to fit like some kind of head scarf. At some point I got a boyfriend who went to prison. He was extradited to another state for a crime he committed a decade earlier as a young teen. It was pretty harmless, sounded worse than it was, but still pretty bad. I wanted to ask my bosses to put up bail, and may have, I can’t remember. Either they said no or I was talked out of it by my friend Bob, another co-worker. I had no boundaries and no idea of what was appropriate. I was like a kitten adrift at sea, wanting to help anyone in harm’s way, but completely unable to put the oxygen mask on myself first. A kitten with a bad haircut and a worse head wrap.

Anyway, I had a real rollercoaster ride while at that sweet safe haven that allowed me to exist and survive and pay rent in new york city. I did not realize this story was going in this direction…. I really just wanted to write about this one co-worker whose name escapes me, who smoked hard and used really foul expressions like “Suck my slimy shit.” (It repulses me to even type that.) But I did get a kick out of him and his raging rampages while he was around. He once chipped a very expensive piece of art and came downstairs to me and another co-worker cackling about how he just damaged a $10,000 piece, laughing maniacally and pacing back and forth.

Anyway, one night me and Bob went to his birthday party and he was on some drug, probably coke, it was the 80’s after all. And he was out of control. After a while, we said that we were going to leave to get some food and that we would be back, but we were not really planning on coming back. He would not have it and insisted that we could not leave and said he would make us hamburgers and he turned on the oven and threw some chop meat on a pan and tossed it in. I happened to be a vegetarian and felt a bit like a hostage, but was amused by the state of things. Shortly after his roommate came rushing in after smelling the food cooking and freaked out because the birthday cake had been stored in the oven and was now destroyed, completely melted into a sweet oily bread.

The roommate was furious and my co-worker fed off the fuel being added to his fiery crazed state. In a dramatic gesture, the co worker pulled the pan of half cooked burgers out of the oven and threw open the window and flung the food out the forth floor window, pan and all, into a backyard area, luckily injuring no one. Still hungry and now without even the promise of cake my pal and I left the party and laughed so hard it hurt the entire subway ride home.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

get out of the house, 100 words on a wednesday


How I love the annual august meteor shower! I will never forget coming home with Viva at 4am after djing and her saying that one day we will look back on our lives fondly because things will be so good and we will be so far away from working that grind which we were both outgrowing. Then we lay on a blanket on my roof on Ave B and 13th and sang Stevie Wonder’s “Don’t you worry about a thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing” over and over again while watching a million shooting stars overhead and laughing hysterically.

Go look!! It’s happening right now!

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

If you are on the fence about having a kid


If you are on the fence about having a kid, let me share with you how nuts it can get. (and why I did not blog a couple of night ago)

My son needed to have a medical procedure and he had to be put under with anesthesia. (I could not even write about it until it was over). I had to get up at the crack of dawn to get him to the OR. I was terrified he might die, particularly because all night he kept waking up and getting out of the bed and crawling as fast as possible out of the room. He never did that before and he was not in pain and I thought it was a sign. it reminded me of how sometimes an animal knows It is dying and runs away. It was really hard to walk in faith but I did and exhausted, with no sleep, I sat in the waiting room, waiting to hear that my baby was ok. He is like pure sunshine and I could not imagine the world without him. I watched bad tv to numb out. Luckily a live chase was happening on the 5 freeway and I got to be very distracted with addictive content until they came and told me he was waking up and was fine.

He did not nap the rest of the day since he slept so late. I unfortunately depend on his daily nap to have the energy to parent two kids each day. At one point I put him in the car because he yawned and I was determined to drive him to sleep and get a nap, but as I circled the block I almost feel asleep at the wheel. I resigned to no nap and we picked up big sister from school.

When I finally got the kids to sleep that night I was staggering around trying to make lunch for the next day and he woke and I had to patiently lay with him till he was asleep. I made it across the finish line and was going to finish a few chores and finally have a moment to myself when my daughter burst out of her room throwing up. Her bottom drawer had been opened and she managed to throw up into it along the way out of the room. In the state of over exhausted overdrive, I cleaned the throw up and changed the sheets. Luckily my husband came home and stayed up with her for the next several hours while she vomited. I got to sleep, sad that I did not get to have a moment with him, but there is always tomorrow, hopefully.

Today was almost impossible to parent. I was so tired and really needed a break. I fell autistic in that every minor hurt was magnified. Everyday my kids step on my foot instep, every hair pull, pinch me or pull on me but today it was all excrutiating. Still I loved them and took them to the park and played ball and ran around and got them fed and into bed and here I am.

I am thrilled to have kids and have no regrets about the choice. I will say that the physical part of the experience often reminds me of being a farmer working in the fields from morning till nigh fall and it gives me a lot of gratitude for my parents. Our parents made great sacrifices so that we could be alive and be here now. Trust me on this one. You might want to call them and thank them.

Monday, August 10, 2015

hot potato


the hot potato effect is the name i am giving this thing that people do. Someone or something makes you feel bad so you make them or someone else feel bad- oh no, i got the potato so i am going to get rid of it by giving it to someone else.

we do it when we feel uncomfortable and our partner says something, anything and we make a fight, instead of saying how we feel. Once I was feeling ugly with a bad haircut and my kind partner was looking at me with love and I shot back a mad "Stop looking at me!" Or we do it when we are hungry or tired and we snap at someone else- you take the feelings, I don’t want them.

If you watch the video of the cop stopping Sandra Bland, you see him throw the hot potato at her when she says she is allowed to smoke in her car and doesn’t put out the cigarette. He didn’t like being wrong, but instead of just reckoning that with himself, (“I asked her to do something she doesn’t have to do and she said no and I feel stupid,”) he threw embarrassment back at her and amped the situation and asked her to get out of the car, trying to get his power back.

It happens when there is a sexual abuse or rape, like on a school campus and then people are mean to the girl who was raped. Maybe they were powerless bystanders at a party and they were under the spell of the rapist’s power too, unable to do anything about it, so then they are mean to the victim, or blame her, or make fun of her.

Many different situations, when we have feelings that we do not like we can often throw them back at someone else. It is supercool to have awareness on this bad habit, because then you can start to stop doing it, which is really great for relationships and great for the world at large. I have awareness, but I still do it sometimes, and sometimes I remember and notice and look at myself and take responsibility.

just drop the potato on the floor. feel your feelings. easier said than done. love to all!

Saturday, August 8, 2015

nothing to say but thats ok


my brain is mush

I wrote about Nagasaki a few days ago, on the eve of the anniversary of dropping the bomb there. The next day I mentioned it again as it fell on the same day as my daughter’s adoption day (the anniversary of her adoption finalizing), August 9th. Both days I vaguely noted problematic issues about the dates. Like some news outlets were saying it was the Hiroshima anniversary, which was clearly wrong. Then my mentioned to me that it was not my daughter’s adoption day…..i was baffled….

The problem was that I was looking at a july calendar and I thought the 9th was Thursday, but the 9th has not even happened yet. I told my daughter it was her adoption day and then I had to tell her that it was not her adoption day. I explained that I had made a mistake. Her gift did not come on time because even though I ordered it to come on time, it came later than the day I thought was Aug 9th. Man, I was so off the mark. The good news is that the gift did come on time for her real adoption day and all is well.

Anyway, I wrote this because it is evidence of how overloaded, sleep deprived and chaotic I am right now, things can get so crazy so fast. I just need some sleep, some space and some peace. I am trying….I wish I had something profound to say....
its ok to make a huge mistake in published writing and in your personal life, nobody died. 
It is better to write and make mistakes then to not write and get it perfect. I have always preferred flawed substance with heart over technical perfection. If you know me at all, you know that I have always been consistent on that on. Perfectionism is a soul killer, a stopper of the process and a bad excuse (loved by FEAR herself). Tune in tomorrow, if you dare.


Friday, August 7, 2015

Preschool graduation


Preschool graduation was today. My daughter woke at 5:55 this morning and woke me and I was unable to get back to sleep. Then the nap I depend upon for the strength to do this job each day did not happen when my son woke and did not go back to sleep. No one wanted to sleep but me. AND I knew that by he end of the long graduation after-party, which would go till after 8pm, I would be wrecked and I would have two really tired kids on my hands. Also, I had an extra hour when we would normally be sleeping to now have to entertain my son. I felt terrified of how to proceed and where my strength would come from, terrified that I simply would not be able to parent today. Then all the feelings came rushing in.,,,

Of course I was super emotional today, I was  saying goodbye to this part of my life, a routine, friends, families,  and memories of  my girl going from being a real baby in diapers to a kid ready for public school. My girl is growing up and the benchmarks are bittersweet.

Also I had recently found this photo of myself in kindergarten and I was going to post it on line but I realized it was way too personal, this image of a fragile little kid that I look at and see so much pain and confusion and terror.  Seeing my daughter blossom in such a loving environment somehow bumped into some part of my past and the little girl that I was at that age and that brought up so much grief and mourning.

I have learned that sleep deprivation is the time to get in touch with god, or whatever that thing is called. When I can’t sleep at night, there is nothing else to do but connect. And I always try to remember that not getting to sleep means I am SUPPOSED TO connect. I am not doing it on my own, so universe provides the opportunity for me. So with the extra time that I would have slept through, I let my son entertain himself with some toys and I just moved through all the giant feeling and sobbed and called a dear friend and got support around my past sadness and my need for sleep and I got the ever needed fix of empathy. I got all of the emotions out of the way so that I could be present for the big day.

I have written about this before. Whenever a big life event happens, we are lucky if there is a bump in the road so that we can sob and process and thus be clear and present for the event. So my bump came in the unfortunate form of sleep deprivation to the max which left me looking like an old lady, or certainly not my best. So I threw on some oversized sunglasses and some lipstick and faked  it till I made it.  

I am so proud of all the kids gradating today and all the hard work shared with their families over these last three years. Congratulations to us all, we did it! I had a beautiful time being with so many dear friends watching our proud strong kids grow up a little more.
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I have this single somewhere, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ug0GnPKlnMA