bluevelvet

Serious writing...

what constitutes "serious writing",
and exactly just how serious does this all have to be....

I was going to apologize but have definitely and decidedly changed my mind.

Damn, I'm just having one of those overly late nights, where general distaste has given way
to self indulgent, introspective retrospective snarking.
I finally got a new copy of Velvet Goldmine this past week, (old copy drowned 4 years ago in Hurricane Katrina)
and watched it tonight.
This was a great event. Haven't seen it in years, and feel much better now.
It isn't that I have a particular thing for boys kissing boys...it's the entire movie.
Like some fantasy dream I wish I could've written while sucking down a bottle of Herb Saint.

It's late, and I should write more, then go to sleep.
Instead I'm sitting in the semi darkness, wishing on a dark star, and wiping ghost glitter off my sleeve.

Goodnight.

Tonight I was reminded once again, of just how much in love I am with Craig Ferguson.

His rant on the Jonas Bros.

"THEY SUCK! THEY DON'T SUCK IN AN INTERESTING WAY! COME ON YOUNG AMERICA! GROW A PAIR!!!"





It may not seem like much to you, but to me after the day that I've had, it was like winning the lottery. Thank you.

In the course of digging around for twisted lounge music,
and vegas insanity for the upcoming DJ gig
I came across possibly the most twisted Vegas inspired cd.

Fun and Lounging in Las Vegas...

Tom Jones - Land of 1,000 dances
frightening enough..
BUT WAIT

How About
Martin Denny - Incense and Peppermints
Actually that one's kind of cool

Ok There is NO excuse for
LIBERACE - Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye

But hands down, my personal choice for the song that inspires a look
of shear disbelief and fear?

Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds
as performed by William SHATNER
The why-s and the wherefore-s
are always swept away by the overwhelming
wave of thoughts all screaming
IT'S JUST SO WRONG

Oh well off to Walmart for cat food and the other staples of life.

"Let's get down to brass tacks. How much for the ape?"
HUNTER

Rob Zombie
Good wholesome music for the entire family.
Hey! It's not just for strippers anymore...

So it's Monday.
One of my days off.
I have to go get a new brake tag,
the equivalent of car inspection in Louisiana.
Twenty bucks, and an hour of my time, but at this point it feels
like highway robbery, in the time dept. that is.

I want to get out to one of the cemeteries today.
I need to get photos of angel wings for a tattoo design I'm working on.

I need to order new machines for work.
The ones I have, while they work, are slower, and lighter weight than
those that give optimum performance.
Then of course there are the machines I dream about being able to afford eventually.
The Paolini. Made in Italy, some artists feel they're just too irritating when it comes
to parts for repair and maintenance.
According to some they're like the Enzo of tattoo machines.
I'll know eventually.
That's several hundred dollars down the road though.
Business seems to have improved at least, so it affords me the opportunity to build up
my portfolio with photos of the work I get to do.

Tonight is writing night.
Mardi Gras and the schedule I was on definitely cut down on my writing time,
but thankfully that's over.

I went out to the Dungeon the other night.
Drank two shots of Herbsaint, and spent some time with friends.
It's pretty bad when I actually have to work at relaxing.
Less stress would be a nice thing, but too much to do lately.

The war.
The less I say on that topic right now, the better.

Off to deal with the sterling service of the brake tag center.
Yeah right...

There is a concept that people of maturity employ when engaged in this kind of situation.
It's the concept of Moving On.

If you were to approach me as an adult in person, instead of having some cheap
slander fest in LJ then I would consider discussing whatever inane grievances you've decided to maintain against me. But no, you have to go on trying to provoke people behind the safety of your computer screen.

I wanted nothing more to do with you once I understood the way you treat people,
and twist all situations to validate only yourself.
As to lies, you've almost created your own art form in that arena.

I have no "henchmen/women", as you so colorfully commented,
and the reasons I've never commented on your juvenile entries about drama, and lies,
etc etc, ad nauseum, are, your repetitive inaccuracies, your social immaturity, the complete
lack of truth in your recounting of past events, the total omission of pertinent facts, and most importantly, I have No time for such irrelevant nonsense.

If one of my friends, and let me paraphrase you here, one of my Real friends, in the Real World
decides that he or she, finds your continuous blithering offensive, and comments on it, that is their choice, and has nothing to do with me.
Unlike you, I don't live my life attempting to play the manipulative role of puppet master in
other's lives.
I enjoy the company of decent, interesting, productive people, with very low level readings on the ulterior motives meter.

You became a nonentity once I fully understood that you have no interest in treating people
with even a measure of kindness, tolerance, understanding, compassion, decency, unless they meet your ridiculous, self important, standards. Then your only interest is seeing how you can twist their thinking and
behavior to gratify yourself.

The concept in your world that strongest deserves all makes me sick.
The concept that anyone not as "tough, independent, strong" as you deserves to be kicked to the curb, treated as a subspecies.
and mocked because of their supposed inadequacies, in your oh so humble estimation
is mind blowing-ly self centered, and borders thinly on fascism.
Let's see, what does that remind me of...oh yes, Nazi Germany.
Your egocentric obsession with what you choose to believe I think of you, or what you imagine I say about you, not to mention the time you think I spend doing all this, displays an
incredible narcissism, and is blatantly indicative of obsessive compulsive behavior.
Don't flatter yourself.

The only person living in a fantasy world in this situation is you.
The only person creating drama and continuing to harp on events over a year old
is you.
The only person who is not moving on is you.

If you're so insanely happy with your life as you constantly say, then get on with it,
and stay out of other's lives, those who've long since grown beyond your ham handed attempts at "witty"insults, and slights, and have far more productive, positive lives to lead.

What was it that you said,
"not enough balls"?
Well, here's a memory blast for you,
More brains than balls is always a good thing,
knowing how to use both is also always a plus.
A practice you might want to consider giving a try sometime.

Oh, by the way, F. was glad you left, and told me he didn't want you there in the first place.
On the topic of obsession, interesting also that he told me he hasn't seen you, or heard from you in 8 months and was glad of it, then you had to show up and spoil "a perfect record."

Move on, the rest of us have.
You on the other hand seem determined to live in the past.
Then again where would you be without someone to aim all that bitterness at?
Conflict dysfunctional.
I guess you'd have to deal with your own issues,
and maybe that's just too frightening a concept for you.

In conclusion:

FUCK OFF

I can't ever express my gratitude enough for the Moulin Rouge version of Like A Virgin.
That song never sounded better.
snicker.

The club was swamped! Halloween season in Nola is like reunion time. Lots of locals who leave for the summer are back in full force, and of course tourists abound. There were at least 200 people at the club last night.
It was great to see so many friends that have been absent all summer, and friends who visit from out of town.
Tonight should be even more interesting.
Friends who have moved away are coming back in town for a week, and I can't wait to see them.
Then of course there are those whose absence has been a relief, and unfortunately they have to show their faces.
I'm just glad it's going so well for the bar. The owners are decent guys who've invested a lot of time, and an extremely large amount of money to get this place back into shape, and it's gratifying to be part of that effort, and see it begin to pay off.

I couldn't sleep worth a damn last night. I lay there staring up at the ceiling, watching the light from the streetlamp shift on the walls through the shadow of an ancient pecan tree across the street. Watching the crystals at the bottom of this old crystal chandelier in my room sway just the slightest bit from the trucks going by a block away.

My brain would not shut down and proceeded to hand me image after lovely image of destruction, and into my head drifted a line from a song I've loved since before I knew what "goth" was. The line was from the Mission UK, the song Into the Blue, and it was written specifically about the songwriter's view of New York, in the wider scope, the not so pretty elements of the human condition. Just the words, "the waste of it all"

Now those words, worlds away from the darkness of my New York apartment, the neon burning in the rain soaked nighttime streets I traveled came back with a striking intensity, and an entirely new perspective.

I miss New York City, its noise, its towers, its grime, its alchemical evening facade, and the strange relics you could find on the sidewalks and in the gutters any given night. Discarded fragments of 20th century man's progress, discarded people, some relics disguised in more finery than others. Shuffling ghosts living in prewar doorways, post war human garbage, all thrown together in one moving living mass in that one place.

One image in particular jumps out at me. My first night there, my closest friend at the time, and I had gone out at two in the morning to explore my new habitat. We wandered the village, and finally with a torrential rain threatening, we stopped in a bagel dive for a staple survival food, and some tar that did its best to masquerade as coffee. We sat in a booth illuminated by huge attention grabbing scarlet neon letters that screamed bagel onto the sidewalk beyond the plate glass. We talked, chewed long and hard on our slightly less than fresh bagels, smoked, and talked about the miracle of me finally moving to metropolis. The thunder crashed, lightning illuminated the skyline and I was in heaven. My eyes kept straying to my phenomenal new neighborhood, the entire world and my future seemingly lying only feet outside through that window. I ashed my cigarette, and as my eyes rose from the ashtray through the pearl grey smoke, a New York episode began on the street outside. Feet away from where we sat, a little man stood on the curb. Perfectly dressed in a tailored suit stood, physically, the smallest executive I had ever seen. A midget in a three piece suit, expensive briefcase in hand stood, his arm outstretched, hailing a cab. The cabs streaked passed. The rain began in earnest. He had no umbrella. No one stopped to pick him up. Free cabs rushed by, their lit TAXI signs a brusque fuck you, directed at him, against the night. The rain poured down, and I felt horrible for him. He turned at one point to steady his uncertain footing. That's when his eyes locked with mine. That was more horrible. I felt badly for him, and my eyes gave it away I know. I never expected him to turn around. I was furious that he had to stand there in the rain that way. He was near a street light, and there was nothing to block the cabbies' view of him, even at three feet tall. He looked into my face for a moment, then promptly flipped me the bird. My friend laughed. When I turned my face back to her she stopped smiling.
The words came out of me quietly, "People suck." I turned back to him, my eyes now wearing the hurt, and anger. I had put on my first piece of New York armor. We stared at each other for a moment, I felt my face give him the halfhearted, you just misunderstood smile, and his expression softened. The screech of NY taxi tires broke the moment, and the splash of water onto his back drew his immediate attention. The cab driver reached over the front seat and pushed the door open. He looked back, one last time, confused. I only looked at his eyes. The door clicked shut, and the water arced again as the taxi pulled away.

I turned back to my friend, "Correction, the people who made him feel that way suck." The rain stopped. We walked home. I never saw him again.

I wondered last night if he is ok.

I got the good news last night, that the Crowbar is finalizing its plans for Halloween.
Some of you know the name the Blue Crystal, or the Crystal as part of nola's goth history.
Ok ok dive bar history, a great place to go to hang out with every conceivable type,

Anyway on Halloween instead of one floor, all three floors will be open with six alternating DJs.
The night will run from around 8 until dawn. Cover will probably run around five bucks.

So if any of you are in nola for Halloween, come check it out. Unlike the Dungeon, the dance floor is more than 6 feet square, and this will be the first time the entire building will be available for the party.
The locals still come to the club, and it has arguably has some of the best music in town.

That Sunday we will still be running the Velvet Viper Lounge night, so things are looking up a bit.
I'm glad to have this to look forward to, it's been a while since anything has sparked much enthusiasm down here.

Since Nola has so many military bases etc. the tension here remains high.

Off to work.

All of you have a great Sunday evening.

I have to work tonight, and would much rather stay in, have a glass of wine, or five, and let the rest of the world go to hell.
I've had it with info overload, and it's time to get my life moving again. I am still aching over receiving some personal items from the family of the friend I lost in the WTC horror, but the time for stagnant grief is over.
My friend was a creative, energetic person, and if she saw me in this state, she would've reamed me with a vengeance for grinding to a halt on her account.

So I worked out, and am now getting ready to go out the door to work.
It's cold, raining, and we may get large damaging hail later. Yay, just the kind of weather to lift my spirits.
Don't scoff.
I mean it, especially tonight.

I'm looking forward to Sunday evening. The night I DJ, manage to help people forget everything for a time, and just enjoy themselves. Since the night has several themes there's a great range of music to choose from. Since I find most current music nauseatingly boring, I'm glad the night has a retro thing going.

I am writing again, and that is a great relief. I have been processing so much info, that I had definitely gone into overload. The need for more output has finally overturned the limbo induced by recent events.

New Orleans has always had its own unique atmosphere, but over the last month, the periodic heaviness over the French Quarter has become so intense it became difficult to just go out and do normal things, much less have a good time.
Even Bourbon Street was a wasteland for a time. No one on it but employees of its businesses. The French Quarter felt like it was holding its breath. Something almost palpable in the air. Now, slowly but surely it seems to be in motion again.
Definitely a relief.

It's upsetting to me to talk with my friends in New York and hear about the almost daily bomb threats, scares, evacuations, and so on, and never hear much if any mention of these things on the news.

Fear is a constant in their lives right now, and while I understand that we as a nation are to strive for normalcy in our lives these days, I think it's unacceptable that we are not made aware of what current situations are.

We are supposed to be so united as a nation right now.

I suppose these things are not being reported on to keep people from going into a panic. Issues of national security? News items on a need to know basis?
Knowledge does not equal panic, it equals power.

I keep remembering what my Grandfather, a veteran of two wars used to quote to me, "To be forewarned is to be forearmed".

The colder weather, actually a relief from the heat, inspired me to do some serious fall cleaning today.
Okay, one of my pet peeves is dust. It was good to open up the windows and get all that fresh air into the house.
Wrote some e-mails.
I miss the changing leaves of Autumn in the northern states.
Here they almost all just go from green to yellow, then gone.

Time to make some Green Tea, and call it the end of a long day.

Soo tired.

I watched Dateline the other night, and saw footage taken undercover in Afghanistan.
I am angered that the news media once again is showing almost exclusively, imagery that will fire up the population of the United States into war mode, while minimalizing and barely touching enough on the suffering going on inside Afghanistan. The people there are poverty stricken,many starving,war widowed, orphaned, and I cannot believe the limited amount of knowledge that the public at large has on
these details, and the overall situation of that country.

We are receiving a crash course on the Taliban, shown archival footage on Osama Bin Laden, to "give context" to our anger, but taught so little about the depth of culture and history of that country. The public is being warned that hate crimes will be dealt with harshly, but if all we keep seeing in these news stories are groups of Taliban supporters burning American flags, and calling Bin Laden a hero...
These stories are carefully planned to insure that Americans don't lose their "righteous" anger.

When I lived in New York, one of my favorite restaurants was Khyber Pass, located on St. Marks. The food and atmosphere were amazing, and the people always gracious. I found myself wondering whether it was still there, and if so, how those employees were faring now.

Don't misunderstand, I am furious over the loss of innocent lives in this tragedy. I think of the friend I lost, and I know how she wouldn't have wanted more innocent lives to be lost in the coming months.
However, human nature is to avenge. Revenge is the watchword.
The politicians keep talking around that word. Trying to pin a big S on the chest of the country. America must be seen as the hero in this thing.
I have to ask, how much were we as a nation, encouraged to worry about the people of Afghanistan, and this unjust regime in their country before Sept. 11th.

I believe those parties responsible must be held accountable for the overwhelming horrors that have been committed.

Questions keep cropping up.
Is America proceeding down this path to avenge the deaths of thousands?
Is this retaliation being planned purely to rid the world of terrorism?
These questions beg yet another, when was the last time any war was fought for "pure" reasons?
I've seen other comments in LJ that run along the same lines.
Is our military just being used in this country to gain a foothold in the Middle East, access to oil control,etc.?

On another level I am disgusted by the isolationist mentality that is being built up here.
The news keeps reporting on the support we are gaining from other countries, siding with the U.S. against terrorism, but we never got to see the emotional support from all over the world. Germans across their country lighting candles and praying for the lost.
We are not reminded enough that other countries lost many of their citizens in these attacks as well.

We must not be consumed by blind hatred.

On my local news there have been stories relating to hate acts taking place here in New Orleans. There is a mosque only blocks from my house. They held special services after the attacks, however they have had to urge the women of their community to stay at home, and when out in public to not wear the traditional clothing of their culture for fear of reprisal. Cab drivers here have had their cabs vandalized, homes have had rocks thrown through windows, etc.

It is frightening and disheartening to see pick up trucks filled with young men in the back, on a Friday night proudly waving American flags, while yelling USA, mixed with threats and obscenities directed toward anyone on the street who looks even slightly "arab" in their estimation.
All their shock and grief turning directly into hate, born out of ignorance and fear.

We are a powerful nation.
Many are saying that the sleeping giant has been awakened.
For years our government has known that these attacks were a probability one day.
They have watched and waited.

Now we've lost true heroes. Firefighters, policemen, paramedics, citizens who thought they were going to have more time with their families, friends.
Inestimable loss.

My thoughts are obviously scattered. Part of it is my own grief, and the other part is fear. Not fear of another attack. I think many people have carried that in the back of their minds for decades. Rather it is a fear of where it will all go next, what the long term outcome of all this will be.

Years ago I had considered moving to Amsterdam. In retrospect, not a bad thought.

The weather went through a weird cold snap yesterday. One more reminder of the passage of time. It has been such a long hot summer, it took me very much by surprise.
I look forward to DJing this coming weekend. It takes my mind off the things that hurt, and with the kind of music I am playing on that night, I have been told I have helped some others forget their pain and fears as well, even if it is just for a few hours.

I have a lot of menial things to do today. Laundry, cat boxes, dishes. At some point I am going to begin work on a piece of art for a friend's upcoming birthday. I know it is important to keep moving. To keep my mind occupied.
Later I'm going to try to get back to my writing.

Going to start some new reading today, however I have no idea what to read.

Anyone have some good suggestions?

I'm forcing myself to make this entry. Weeks ago my computer developed issues, then Sept. 11th.
I have been in a state of shock. I have suffered a personal loss in the course of all the overwhelming horror, and now I sit here and try to find words.
The days pass, but time has become a blur. I go through daily routines, then the night comes, and my mind begins the replay of memories of my friend, images of falling buildings, the faces of the dead, the horror and devastation in the faces of the living, and the only place I've ever considered home, bleeding smoke and flames from a wound born of hate.
In other times of sorrow in my life, writing has been a deep source of solace.
In this case, the emptiness and anger remain.
I know that time and grace will ease this, but those are only words right now.
I am struck again by how precious life is. The air seems sweeter, the colors all brighter, and the pain...deeper than ever. Then the guilt, guilt at the feelings of thankfulness that I am still alive. Those feelings are transient in
recent days.
I am thankful for those dear to me, and thankful to see the innocence in the faces of children too young to understand yet what has happened.
Then I think of the faces of all the children whose lives have been forever altered by these acts of hate.
The children of the wounded and the dead.

We are all such fragile, fleeting beings in the span of eternity.
I cherish the time I have on this planet, and can only hope to contribute things of lasting value in the time allotted to me.
To never be consumed by hate.
To value the truth worth of the good things in life, and live in a way that may somehow help other's lives be better.

I am thankful for the friends I have made here in LJ as well.
To all of you, be safe, and keep well.

There...
his smile
fullness of truth
untouched by years.
gold apple hair
pin straight
innocence.

Swing set chains
utterances
encrypted
childhood cripple

promises.

Hide and seek

Guardian hands
cross the street
The monster in the living room.
exploding arc
sizzling
blue

Silenced
on impact.

Uniforms
crying
The box of tomorrow
locked away.

Secret kept.
broken
porcelain

Red ball
green carpet

She swears lies

newsflash
death

He was only three.

I read through some of your journals and I can't help but wonder at the way some of you can just open up and talk about the things in your lives that have deeply hurt you, or give you pain.
I have never been able to do that.
Lately I wish I could.

My heart feels like it's going to implode.

The first time I saw an interpretation of the Lady of Shallotte, I was fascinated. The concept of a woman weaving destinies out of the vibrantly colored threads of people's lives, and becoming entangled herself was, I thought an intriguing one.
She was powerful, but obvioulsy not immune to the situations she was involved in.