MadameBastet-Firing-Neurons

It Ain't a Party Until Somebody Cries

Well yesterday was OK
not too bad actually;
the pool was heavenly - deliciously
cool water on a sunny, hot, perfect
Southern California Fourth of July.

I played with my cousin's little kids
in the pool and didn't eat too much;
the day flew by so quickly. It was strange.
At the end , I thought, "That went so
fast. It's over already?" And I thought
I could live to be 100 and that will be
what life is like. It was over before it
began.

The kids are all adorable, especially
Carson, who wanted to be thrown up
in the air and into the water repeatedly.
He is 2 1/2 and just said, "Again" so many
times. Then Kevin, who is 4, started crying,
and hey, that's when things really began swinging.

My grandma and grandpa, those people
who I call The Immortals, are still going
strong physically. What I find really ironic
is that I watched one Twilight Zone episode
at their house yesterday and it was about
a man who'd found the secret to immortality
and was over 2,000 years old. He was truly
immortal. But he didn't enjoy it like he thought
he would. He was tired. He'd watched everyone
around him die, and die, and die again and again.
In the end, he was killed, and it seemed a relief
to him. He said, although he feared death, he realized
that death is what gives life its true meaning.
My grandparents do not have the ability for such
introspection and clarity of thought. I love them, but
they are the simplest of people. I do not think my
grandmother has ever questioned anything in her life,
especially death.
I know she is afraid though.

My grandma's
mental state is not good. She called me about
four names before she remembered mine.
She knows who you are; she just has to go
through the entire family tree before she
gets to you. She's getting bad with her sense
of time and numbers. I wondered if a
certain part of her brain was deteriorating on
its own. She told me, "Next month I'm going to
be 23."

It was hard not to laugh. I said, "No, you're
going to be 93." I think she had herself at
64, and a few other ages too. She talks about
her work at the hospital as if the people she
worked with were all still alive. Will I be this
way? What is going to happen to me? I have
no children; I doubt I will. Where will I end up?
Or will I, with the way the world is going.
No use worrying about it. My father always told
me the things you worried about never seemed
to materialize and the things you never worried about
often happened. It's true for me. For him. Perhaps
a shark will eat me. Or I will be run down by a bull
in Pamplona. Because you see, I never worry about
those things. I am deathly afraid of sharks, and rarely
go into the ocean (thank you Steven Spielberg). And
I think running with the bulls is one of the stupidest
events on earth. I think anyone who does that deserves
to get gored in the ass. Poor bulls.
So yes, expect the unexpected. More cliches to come.
A dollar a cliche. They'll be on sale til midnight.

My grandfather is more amazing. Too bad I'm
not related to him; technically he's my step-
grandfather, but the only grandfather I've ever
really had. He is almost 93 as well - he's got
genes that are even more stunning than my
grandma's. A few years ago he fell and broke a
hip. At his age, that usually would've been it for
someone. Not him. He recovered; he's even got
disintegrating vertabrae and just keeps plugging
along. He does have a cane now, and he hasn't
driven in years so he has a scooter - actually two.
I said, "Oh a two-scooter garage!" He shops
and scoots around, deaf as a post. It's a miracle
he isn't killed in traffic.

But what's truly amazing, and I wish you could
all see this - is that the man doesn't eat anymore.
I mean, his caloric intake daily must be under 500
calories. He is literally, literally a skeleton. And yet
he drags this skeleton around - how? HOW? My mom
and I think they are both alive on sheer will.
I don't know why he doesn't eat. I guess he's not hungry
for some reason.

He bar-b-qued the steaks yesterday. I felt sorry for
the cows. Not only were they slaughtered for their meat,
but he burned those steaks so that they were like pieces
of charcoal. Needless to say, I didn't have any steak. I'm
not much of a beef eater anyway.

My grandma did get me laughing when she
started talking about the neighbour down the street.
Some woman who's 102 years old. My grandma was
saying, "I wouldn't mind getting really old, as long as
I have my mind." It was so strange; first, she said it like
she wasn't old yet. I'm thinking, lady, you're old. Perhaps
we never think of ourselves as old. I mentall still feel
about 25, but thanks to fibro, the gift that just keeps
on giving, I physically often feel like I'm 105. Anyway, I
inadvertantly burst out laughing and had to stop myself
because she pretty much HAS lost her mind. She doesn't
have Alzheimer's so much as your garden-variety senile
dementia. Her caretaker, Delia, just looked at me and smiled.
Delia is a saint. I mean really, forget beatifying the late Pope.
Delia needs to get in line ahead of him.

I told my mom, "She thinks she has her mind, but
she doesn't." Maybe that's like me. "She thinks she has a soul
but she doesn't." We're just a mass of chemicals and neurons
and dendrites and fibers and one hard blow will make
us disappear....where?

It's all absurd lately.
North Korea is launching missiles into
the Sea of Japan. It appears they may not
have the technology yet to hit us, but they
will get it. I hate that fat little North Korean
communist dictator. Kim Il Whatever. Normally
I do not call anyone fat. But I will call him fat and ugly
and worrisome, because we have our own maniacs
in our own government to worry about. We don't need
anymore maniacs interacting with maniacs.
And to think, as a child, all they
pounded into us, at school, was fear of the big, bad
USSR. Get under your desks! Drop and cover!
As the brilliant comedian Lewis Black says, these
are the adults. ADULTS. In charge of children. And
they are telling us to essentially get under a pile of
wood, of kindling, while an atomic bomb goes off.
And if we survive the blast, it's a sure bet, as he says,
we'll walk outside and our nose will be melting onto
our shoe.

I believe there will be a nuclear
'incident' of some kind in my lifetime...
if I have a lifetime akin to a normal lifespan.
It is frightening. Am I a pessimist for saying this?
I don't know. Everyone started talking about it in
the pool yesterday. My cousin said she would rather
just be hit directly rather than suffer the effects of the
aftermath. I started yelling "Nice holiday conversation!"
I just wanted a few minutes in the pool, in the sun,
without thinking about these things.

Ken Lay, of the Enron disaster, died from
an apparent heart attack. His 'pastor' said,
"His heart just gave out."
I said, "What fucking heart?"
In a way, I am angry. The bastard won't see
the inside of a prison; he escaped his earthly
punishment. How convenient. I can only imagine how
those directly affected by his massive arrogance
and greed feel. I can also only hope there is
some kind of judgment after this life, although
I suppose it isn't mine to dole out, or even wish
on a person.

I'll never forget seeing his wife crying on TV,
crying because they were going to have to sell off
some of their 5 or 6 homes. I have no words. Well,
I do, but they're really pretty bad, so I'll refrain.
I'll pretend that my mom Carole, and Steven's mom
Joycie, are reading my blog. Apparently they both
freak out at the mere mention of the mention of
swearing.

My sleep schedule has been screwed up and I need
to get on a correct one soon. The last two and half
weeks of studying are before me...as are a few Church
concerts. I need energy to get through it all and energy
does not come to me so easily anymore.

My dreams are getting more and more surreal. And I
mean surreal. Salvador Dali would be proud. Even I'm
getting scared of my own dreams.

No photo. Too tired to even find one.

MadameBastet-Firing-Neurons
Happy Birthday America

Oh yay!!! I got home from the fireworks
extravaganda at the Bowl and one of the best
Twilight Zone episodes is on. It's the one where
the plane keeps flying around and gets lost in
time. They keep trying to get back to New York
but they've gone back in time and cannot get
back to the correct year; they're stuck in
1939 now - the year my mom was born.
At least they're not in outer space. I swear every single
marathon they always show every single space episode.
Now the pilot is telling the passengers they've flown
backwards in time. And I thought turbulence was
scary. Rod Serling was a fucking genius. If only he'd
figured out how bad cigarettes were for you.

The Hollywood Bowl was a lot more fun than I
thought it would be. I have that problem though.
I tend to dread all social events, but 9 times out
of 10, I end up having a good time. It's never as
good as I'd hoped...or as bad as I'd feared, to quote some moody
bastard. They've re-done the front of the Bowl...I don't think anyone's
seen the gorgeous art deco statue there
since the place opened in 1922. It really is
a spectacular venue; a gorgeous place to listen to
music outdoors. It was unbelievably warm tonight.
My fruit tarts melted into piles o' goo. So no fruit
tarts.

The show was the usual patriotic mishmash
with - get this - Kenny Loggins as the special
guest. Ok, when Jill told me this I was like,
Kenny Loggins? All I remembered about him
was that he did that song "Danger Zone" for Top
Gun. I thought he had disappeared. What a goof.

Not so! I actually knew SO many of his songs
it is scary! Hey, what about "Danny's Song"?
I love that sappy tune! It was really quite lovely;
Kenny stuck the microphone out and we all sang
"And even though we ain't got money, I'm so in love with ya honey,
And everything will bring a chain of love.
And in the morning when I rise, you bring a tear of joy to my eyes,
And tell me everything is gonna be alright. "

It was so beautiful, hearing all the soft, lovely voices
echoing against the dark hills surrounding the iconic shell
on the stage. I'd totally forgotten he also did the song "I'm All
Right" which begins one of the funniest freakin' golf movies
ever - Caddyshack. That's some funny shit.

Ok, but here's the really scary part. I thought Kenny
looked really hot. Super sexy. I love his hands. I love
men's hands in general. But his are great hands. Long
fingers. Tan. I love to watch men do things with their
hands....yeah, like play guitar. What a cliche! I just sat
there and thought, I'd like to have some hot monkey sex
with Kenny. Obviously, I am more disturbed than anyone
previously thought.

Anyway, I have NO idea how old Kenny is;
he's got to be in his mid 50's at least. I mean
the man put out his first stuff when I was about
3 years old. But he's lookin' good and geez does
he have some serious fans! Mostly female of course
and they were cracking my friend Jill and I up so hard.
This one woman was truly 'dancing like no one was
watching' and I am not making fun - good for her,
but damn, it was a riot.

The night ended with truly incredible fireworks;
the orchestra played all sorts of patriotic tunes
and we ooooohed and aaaaahed and sang America
the Beautiful.

Now I am home and need to go finish my word
problems before I go to my grandma's house
for swimming and a bar-b-que tomorrow.
I was thinking of these women getting so
into Kenny, and I thought well hell woman,
in a few weeks that's gonna be you at the
Church concert - unless Steve has some kind
of nervous breakdown or something. Because
he seriously seems to have something going on.
I could be wrong, but right now, this does not
seem like a happy man.

And yet once upon a time, I looked at
those guys and thought "Oh they have it all."
I thought their lives were magical or
something. Especially Marty. I swear when
he put out his Art Attack CD, I used to listen
to it every night when I lived in Brentwood.
Every night around 7pm I went for a walk.
I lived in a really crappy apartment in a
very beautiful neighborhood. The voyeur
in me loved to walk at dusk, and peek into
the warm yellow glow of stranger's windows.
Not to see anything risque; on the contrary -
it was the ordinariness of stranger's lives
that fascinated me. The myriad events of the day,
collapsing gently into the arms of night,
the sounds of glasses clinking and silverware
and dishes and dinner conversations....the
different, often delicious scents of various
meals wafting out open windows....the cats
that sat in windowsills, the leaves swaying
in the summer breeze as I walked down
the sidewalks...Art Attack was the soundtrack
to that time in my life. I honestly thought
Marty lived with Ann in some kind
of gingerbread house in Sweden; he
sat by the fire with the cuckoo clock ticking
away, a modern day Dorian Grey. I think
I thought fuckin' fairies visited him and
he was so perfect with his shiny long hair
and his gorgeous bone structure and that
Ann, what a bitch she was! I thought surely
they just traveled the world, looking like
The Beautiful People, wearing fashionable
clothes and nothing bad or stupid or real
ever touched them.

I was 21. Naive isn't the word for it.
I had pixie dust in my eyes.
I've seen The Wizard of Oz.
You'd think I'd know that the
Wizard was just a small, frightened man
behind a big curtain.

Photo: The Hollywood Bowl Fourth of July Fireworks show

MadameBastet-Firing-Neurons

Fuck It

I have nothing profound to write.
I am in a pissy mood. What should be a nice,
relaxing time - fourth of July and all - has
turned into one of the most stressful times
I've had in a while.
The tutor came today. I fucked up on my
exponents and screwed up my homework.

He seems to be living in some fantasyland,
either lying to me, or actually believing I'm going
to pass this test. I've been studying science non-stop
for days. Chemistry is the only thing kicking my ass.
Everything else, I am good with.
Although Newton can kiss mine, with all his laws.
Didn't he have anything better to do than sit around
and figure out the fuckin' laws of motion?

Going to the Hollywood Bowl tonight with my friend
and her family. They have great seats up front because
her grandma is handicapped. They had great seats before
because her mom had MS. A really shitty reason to have
great seats. Her mom died three years ago. It's weird to
go to the Bowl without her. I know they'll have fireworks
tonight; I've been there before around the 4th and they
really are spectacular. Maybe that will put me in a better mood.

My mother and I got into a bad one - she finally confessed
she's been angry about some real estate we sold in 1999.
For 7 years she's blamed ME for selling off too soon. Like I
knew what was going to happen with the goddamned real
estate market. It was a decision made by the whole family
after my dad died. I take the hit for everything with her.
I never lived with "What could have been." She's been living
that way for the last 7 years. I just figured, as Maya A. says,
"You did the best you could at the time with what you had."

Jesus. I'm sure a lot of people would've called in sick on
September 11, 2001 if they'd known they'd be taking a
leap off the 103rd floor of their building before their
10:00am coffee break. I can't live anymore with what could
have been. It's hard enough to live with what is.

I have a ton of math homework but am expected to be
at a family bar-b-que tomorrow. Why don't they just put me
on the grill. At least the Twilight Zone marathon is on.
Somehow, that always comforts me. Insane, isn't it?
I registered for four classes this morning. Still need to pay my
tuition. I'm going to try and sub during the day.
I'm freaked out. I've never gone to school full time,
and worked, esp. with the limited energy I have.
I have no choice. But I'm still scared.

Something about Steve Kilbey's last blog really,
really upset me. I swear I could't tell if he was kidding or not.
His fans piss me off even more.
I'm supposed to be excited about going to see The Church.
There's something really disconcerting though when Steve
starts to announce he needs his ego stroked.
He pisses me off and breaks my heart. What can I do?
I want to save him, make his life better. I can't even do
that for myself. I gave up the salvation complex after my
dad. Didn't work out too well on that one.
I like commenting on his blog; I've probably made hundreds
lose their lunch with the constant gag reflex.

As my blog says today, fuck it.
Maybe North Korea will make good on its threat
and blow us all to hell
and none of this will be a worry at all.

Photo Credit: CNN - North Koreans make their feelings known.