whatmas?

So in browsing my comments, and all the other comments and shit I’m struggling to keep up with now that I follow so freakin many blogs, I saw a comment on “Monday Listicles”. I, being the mature woman that I am, did laugh and say ‘ppffftt….listicles….ha!” Wait, that must’ve someone else. ; ) No, I checked out what peeps were commenting on and there ya have it. Every Monday, new list. Sounds fun to me since copying conversations is difficult for me and the ones that can be safely shown to ye of puritanical mind you bitches are pretty much twitfodder. Anyhow, I decided what the hell… So I hop on over to where it all starts and think to myself… aw shit…. Well I picked a fanfuckingtastic week to start…

This week: the 10 things I hope for this christmas. Wow… This may prove a lofty task, seein’ as I don’t give much credence to the whole magic babies gettin yanked out a hoo-ha that’s never even had a bob or a well.. whatever, to give ‘er a lil stretch theory. Then this magic baby came out all perfect (of course) and and glowing and didn’t get tetnus or mad cow or whooping cough or even the croup from sleeping in a nasty food trough with half eaten hay for padding…. Oh, in musty shit filled, stank ass barn. And bythe-by who gives babies gold and perfume… on a camel? Those fuckers spit. Anyhow… Then there’s the super-stealth-ultrasonic-be-everywhere-at-once red rocket-sled that can haul a metric shit tons of toy and a giant fat dude packin enough alice-in-wonderland potion to get him in and out of every house in the world (chimney or not) with a kid in it……… I’m thinkin this could be tough for anyone, (that’s gotta burn some fierce calories!) but really? morbidly obese super hairy dude? with little people as his only help? (I know you’re thinkin it, its okay but be nice).

I think my aversion started mostly because every year my mom and sister ask me for a list. My sister usually asks me sometime in October because hers is ready and nothing on it is priced for adult sibling gift exchanging. Its usually made up of shit you should buy for yourself when you are an adult in your thirties, with a family and two stable incomes… but you know… gotta have priorities people. Oh! Its to make sure I know how much my doodle’s shit (I say shit because how many 3Ds’ does 1 child need?!?) is gonna cost… so you know I can get him a gift certificate to the proper giant chain store. And every year they get the same list from me: please, I don’t need anything. If you must have a list, I’d like to get together for Sunday for brunch. (I love a good eggs bene) It doesn’t go over well, but I don’t really care anymore. So to come up with my own list. I had to do some tweeking… But without further adieu here is my version of a 10 things I hope for this christmas list:

10 this I hope for in the Winter Solstice Season:

1. That I will actually get to spend time in the mountains this season and enjoy some of the amazing things you can only see when surrounded by a sea of white snow and the smell of fire places.
2. That the friendships I have made via the interwebs will continue and we will encourage each other to become better writers.
3. That I will improve myself as a human in a way that is marked and noticeable to others and not just myself…. Not because I seek attention or praise, but because I made a difference somehow or to someone.
4. That my brother will find someone… to share his music with.
5. That my my little pink car will slow the fuck down and allow me to rest (and that my blingy rose colored glasses will be found).
6. That I will learn to forgive myself for the bad decisions of the past, so the rippling can calm and I can find a still place to start changing the course from here.
7. That those I love and care for will know that unconditionally is the only way I know how… and that even if its been a while, still holds true.
8. That I treat others as I want to be treated and remember that it is my job to be the human I want others to be.
9. That my best friend will find a place of peace, if only for a moment… so he can know what that’s like and build from that place.
10. and of course…… to improve my shoe collection…

I probably won’t post this over on the “Listicles” but maybe next time the list will be a little more non-snarkster mom friendly.

[youtube]http://youtu.be/XW-6jKuHE1M[/youtube]

a really bad poem that means well

laughs and ((hugs)) hell maybe even some drugs
that’s what my bitches could be made of…

margaritas, potato juice, whiskey and gin
oh that’s what my bitches are pickled in…
(well there’s the one who likes latte’s but her liver’s already in)

babies and men (when they show or behave), shoes and the pen
that’s much of my bitches days are made of

bedazzled shivs, cakes with shanks and matching sequined shorts & tanks
that’s what my bitches make a fight of

funny and strong, wounded and healed, fierce, scarred and talented
that’s for sure what my bitches are…

well, there was this one from nantucket… but, we shived her and threw her in the river.

thanks for makin my day bitches… jazz hands!

 

[youtube]http://youtu.be/rp6cOgmY234[/youtube]

correspondence or some shit

bro,

You are fucking awesome. Here is a list (in bullet form as I am a nerd) to aid in making my point:

*You are a feminist whereas I am not, I say open my door damnit! But you give me hope that it is not a bad thing to be a feminist and are the only person I can say that about.

*You love unconditionally. It hurts to do that, but you persevere and are a stronger man for it.

*You are a good human. You don’t have to take my word for this, ask others or I can provide letters of reference.

*You follow what you believe and stick to your ideals even when it isn’t easy and makes doing something good really difficult.

*You can punk me out but it doesn’t feel like punking, well most of the time.

*You are intelligent, funny, kind hearted and cute, also very colorful, both literally and figuratively

*oh, yeah… you ran 13.1 miles on a fractured foot to give money to a child with blood cancer pretty sure you should get a medal for that – oh wait.

I don’t need to say more but I can elaborate, for pages.

less than three,
sars

*****

Dear job,

Nevermind. My filter is still working.

grumble.

sars

*****

Dear filter,

Please uninstall yourself so I can get some shit out. I have some anxiety happening up in this bitch and it needs to stop. like now! If you would kindly allow me to remove the gorilla glue so I can just utilize at my leisure I would appreciate it.

now!! kindly,
sars

*****

Dear Matrix,
*not the car

Why can’t I look like the hot chick the ended up breaking her leg performing her own stunts? Without breaking my leg of course. I’m not fat. So maybe I just need to be more bendy. That would be helpful. Is there a red and/or blue pill for that? Please advise.

yours binarily,
sars

*****

dear old ass dude on a bass-ackwards (I hate that phrase too, but really, it applies) tri cycle,
**also wanna-be skater kid, coffee shop hipster and stroller pushing crack mom…

There are rules of the road for a reason, namely your safety. I like to think of myself as a patient person who is understanding. Occasionally you have to endround a rule to keep from becoming a smudge on the pavement, but that is on occasion. Riding or pushing as it were, down or in a one-way street, the wrong way, is not okay and not safe really – especially if say you have a child in a stroller. Rolling out of a driveway, THE WRONG WAY, also not okay. These are ways to insure sudden smooshing under the wheels of my tank car.

And to you specifically old ass dude… I realize you are from an era when dinosaurs took up the entire field and you had to club them with a log to get where you were going and thus you feel some sense of entitlement to take the entire lane… at lunchtime… in the downtown area… going 3(ish) miles per hour, backing up cars for two blocks. But hear me now old dude… You are not entitled to this privilege. Bring a dino and maybe. Hug the cars on the side giving room for my large, but not canyonarrow sized, vehicle to go by you kindly and I will not feel the need to have my passenger door check you or honk unexpectedly as I pass your ear. We can have a peaceful coexistance. Much like you and the brontosaurus once had.

namaste,
sars

*****

you put up with my blithering… here is a treat.

The Black Keys: Howlin for You

[youtube]http://youtu.be/TLSpj7q6_mM[/youtube]

not a resolution

Sitting at the pub while the man read the paper, I wrote what I thought was a decent post for today. I actually put it down on real paper with a pen and everything. But as is par, on my way home I got sidetracked. When I turned on the car and headed back, it took a few to realize there were no sounds coming out. I was deep in thought about a friend of mine and the bull shit she is being forced to deal with right now. So I turned up the volume…

“Just don’t waste all your years
Believing in the fear
You’ll choke out what’s alive and make
What’s wrong be all that’s real


I can see you’re weakened at the seams
And trying to swim upstream but can’t find a way”

It didn’t actually take the whole verse for me to know the song. Hell it didn’t even take more than a couple words. My friends face was flooding tears to my eyes because the whole song was in my head. I had to re start the song.

“…


I’m sure you’ll learn to dance and drink and dream
But you might still feel lost


And I see myself in you my friend
But I would break where you would bend
I’m calling on what you defend and tonight I won’t hold back”


This song has significant meaning to me and honestly got me through some darkness. But hearing it now, all I could think of was my friend and her life. I could see her over the last few months and how the fear and stress has built upon itself layer by layer. I see her fighting in a constant swim upstream to keep what’s most important to her. I thought of how hard she works to prove to some douchenozzle what the rest of us already see, how he fights her and threatens her and uses fear as a tool to manipulate her. Fear is a powerful tool.

“Just don’t waste all your years
Believing in the fear
You’ll choke out what’s alive and make
What’s wrong be all that’s real


I can see you’re weakened at the seams
And trying to swim upstream but can’t find a way


So here we are again trying to hold back
The tides behind our eyes
Lucky ones trying to drink from both the wells we claim are dry
I guess I’ve found some freedom in
Embracing every time they pry


We’re both the same
You’re just like me”

The tears are rolling as I’m trying to sing along, and hit the back button again. I was reminded that I’ve been in this place, I’ve swam in this stream. I’ve been consumed by this fear and it’s sickening. For a moment I felt her pain and was crippled. I was in that moment and remembered my own fear. For a moment we were both the same.

“And when your skin finally sheds
You’ll find your nerves all in shreds
The price may be to keep your heart you’ll lose your head”

For me it took the physical act of shaving my head to keep my heart, to lose my fear (or some of it anyway) and lose my head or analyze less (ain’t gonna lie – not a lot less but I’m trying). I needed the reminded that I did this… I went through the work so that my skin could be shed. I made it out of the stream in one piece. I’m not sure what will happen to my friend. I am not sure of how things will turn out. She is barely at the river’s mouth and there are bears waiting in the water to catch her. What I am sure of is that she is not alone. No one should ever be alone doing battle with people that have evil inside. I know that she is loved and I have bear traps.

Oh, the song is The Odds by the band The Loved Ones…

barstool musings

Tonight was an interesting one for me. I kinda stopped going downtown for a while, the whole where I work making people uncomfortable and stuff. Plus when you date someone who has everything they want at their house… you get the idea. So I often used to go to my favorite pub, sit at the end of the bar closest to my friend the bartender, drink soda water with lime and observe, then write. Some have made their way here others will never see daylight. Often that’s where the poetry comes from. It’s rare that I write poetry, but on occasion something just sparks the first line or phrase and off I go. Tonight was one of those nights. A close friend was looking quite handsome in a suit and tie… at the hole in the wall pub, for seemingly no reason (at least that I was privy too). The first line came and well..

The Columbian

suits and ties
meet skirts and thighs
social lube like honey
makes the words so sweet
glasses full of shots and bull
love is made with whiskey neat
a clinking glass
a piece of ass
last call marks its pairings
one chance to be daring
drink it down, be quick
there are memories to erase