Saturday, June 16, 2007

oh how I hate to admit that I've been looking at you...

Current mood: hot

For my ladies (you men can read if you want, but it's all pink and frilly with lust and flirting):

"Pink Champagne" makes me pretty damn happy. Optimistic about love for once. It reminds me of that first time you see someone you think is so very interesting and maybe a tad out of your league. That one guy, who walks by and all your girlfriends, despite different tastes in men, all turn to watch him. Man, do we need one those around East Nashville*. It reminds me of stolen glances, lust, heaving heart palpitations, flirty smiles, hands brushing accidentally, unfeigned innocence. Crushes. Love the old fashioned crush. Yummy. Most gals do. We crave them more than chocolate.

My ladies and I will be out this weekend. I'd suggest, if you live in this town, that you attempt a "walk by" my ladies and I. One of us might possibly be looking for a new crush or 2. I'm not saying me, I'm not saying anyone in particular. Maybe this heat is starting to get to me. Or maybe I just think it's time the tables were turned. Summer is typically a time of women dressed in almost nothing sweating in the summer heat....I'm saying it's time for men to be objectified. That's right. I'm talkin' catcalls to the men in this town. Shout it out ladies, shout it out.

With that being said. What's wrong with this town lately. It's been kinda boring. I'm just sayin'.

*my apologies to my male are all so very hot and delicious in your own individual ways.

step away from your computer...cont...

Last night I was reminded of an article I read on the nytimes about the found diary of a young Jewish girl during the depression. It was beautifully written and detailed her thoughts, her dreams, her sexual adventures both male and female (scandalous!), and some of her daily mundane habits. Quite simply, it was a peek inside the life of a woman and a life long forgotten.

My girlfriend, Camille, has some of her grandmother's diarys and she told me about some of the entries last night. It made me really think about how much has been lost now that everything we do is done so in a digital world. We blog online (guilty), we seldom have actual photos developed, we communicate via email. It made me wonder what we will leave behind for our grandchildren to discover? I, for one, realized the other night that I have over 100 posts on myspace alone. This doesn't even count the secret online diary I kept for a few years prior to myspace. Eventually, where will all of those thoughts go? Do I print them all out and save them for my children to find and read? Or do I allow them to disappear into the digital oblivion? I make an attempt to send letters here and there. I definitely write hand written thank you notes. I have a paper diary I keep within arms reach of my bed (sometimes I wake up with it tucked in the bed next to me).

The online journal/diary/blog isn't the only problem. When was the last time you took actual photographs and had them developed? When was the last time you didn't delete a "bad" photo from your camera? Camille pointed out some of her favorite photos are the ones from her childhood where she didn't even know the photo was being taken. Candid photos used to be a way of life and now everything is so very perfectly posed and if it's not, its deleted immediately. We have unknowingly enacted the law of photo veto! I recently read of a mobile phone with a camera focus designed specifically for women because women take the most self portraits. Wow.

And let's not even get started on music! I don't know about you, but I like to actually own a record. I actually enjoy reading the liner notes. I enjoy my iPod. I do. But I also like to thumb through records at Grimey's or Great Escape. I love the smell. I love the feel. I love the process of discovery! Unfortunately I haven't been able to do this for a while, but I am committed to get myself back in the groove, so to speak. (Well, once Jill gets my record player hooked up to the receiver).

Look. All I'm saying here is to think about what we're leaving behind. And from the looks of it, the majority of us aren't leaving shit.

I challenge you all:
-Pull out your old school writing utensils. Grab a sheet of paper. Write down some of your thoughts. Mail them, tuck them in a drawer, whatever.
-Go buy some actual film. You know, the kind you have to actually put in the camera. Take some photos. You know, the kind you can't delete immediately because you don't like how fat your face looks.
-Hook up your record player. Listen to something besides what's coming out of your computer or iPod. Can you hear the difference?
-Make a phone call. Or better yet, go visit someone on their front porch. (Our porch is always open for a visit.) Have an actual conversation. It's lovely, isn't it?

I'm not perfect. But I'm going to start doing my part. I hope you do the same.

I love my people.

ps. at least the digital world hasn't completely taken over literature. ah, books. How I love thee.

Monday, June 4, 2007

Waitin' Round to Die....

So. I suffer from depression. Don't we all? I'm beginning to think so. Sometimes I wonder how much of it is actually real and how much is all in my head. (pun intended). How much is chemical and how much of chemical is reality? Right?

I'm having a hard time lately. Seems not much is going right. Right?

And I grasp on to what my friends and my sweet, sweet Mom tell me:

"It shall pass"
"It will get better, it has to"
"No matter how poor you are, there's always soup" (from my Granny)
etc, etc.

And yet sometimes I seclude myself to my bed. My bed will make it all better.
And I think, if only I could smoke in my bed (inner dialogue, but what if I fell asleep with a cigarette burning? Do i want to be a 60's/70's cliche'?) If only my 2 addictions could become one (who am I kidding, my 3, let's include alcohol).
Alone. In bed. Smoke filling my room.

And other times that might just make it worse.

So. I go out.
Into the masses.
Fake smile.
Dosing myself with $3.00 Miller Lite drafts.
Beer (I can't afford)
Smiles (that don't come naturally)
and music.
Isn't there always music?
But it reminds me...I'm not crazy. They always remind me:






We all feel SO MUCH. (don't we?)

And then tonight, on my porch, my girls remind me that we're not in this alone. We will always (hopefully) have someone who knows what. Who can sense everything, without me or you saying a word.

And you remember, its all background. It's all where you came from and where you're going.

And we all (hopefully) can hold onto- THIS.

Just keep holding on.