Innocence Lost

I finally caught the episode of 100 Greatest Metal moments, 20-1. There was a website mentioned, Metal Sludge ( www.metal-sludge.com ) a place where groupies have the last laugh by ranking the quality, and yes quantity, of various rock stars from the 80's and 90's. Mostly hair bands from the golden age of groupiedom was mentioned, the 1980's. I should have known better. I should have left well enough alone with my adolescent sexual fantasy, but this was like a car crash that begs to be rubbernecked at. Now in the early 90's I did a bit of backstage stuff. never fucked anyone, just smoked their dope. A few of these tidbits were no great surprise...some blew my mind. The dick chart was a revelation to say the least. Groupies give the lowdown, good bad and laughable. The fact that Tommy Lee sets the standard for length and girth is not a newsflash. The man can steer a boat with no hands. However, some who can either compare to him, or fail to measure up, surprised me. For example, and I quote;" Glenn Danzig / Danzig, The bottom line is his cock is just like him, short." ARGHHH I love him, and really didn't want to know that...too late! Another of my 80's faves Don Dokken, fared better:"Don has a good looking, nice sized dick and could go ALL night long. He will make sure you get off and is willing to do whatever it takes for it to happen. However, he will treat you as a prize the next morning and show you to the roadies like the catch of the day. Can be kind of crude that way!" A few current popular guys were mentioned, Like Fred Durst of Limp Biskit, supposedly a notorious ladies man in the press:"Fred is an average joe, or should I say an average Fred. Nothing too big but nothing too small. He loves to eat pussy and loves to get oral in return. He's a little on the kinky side and he really loves the freaky girls. Tries to use the press to get date and frequently comes off like a creepy stalker." A few of these reviews reconfirmed my liking of some rockers that my friends made fun of me for, Flea of Red Hot Chili Peppers:"Flea may seem the scruffy second choice to Anthony, but he's very attractive and intense in one hard compact package. He is highly intelligent, sensitive, a great writer and has a beautiful, extremely rock hard cock of well proportioned length and width. Can stay rock hard for a while. Incredibly intense building and fluidity." HA, my taste in rock stars has been reinforced by the pros! LMAO. Anyway to be fair, actual endowment isn't the only thing mentioned. These ladies also mention who are creeps and who are the really really hot ones that are nice and treat groupies like humans. If you are like me, in your early 30's and have an urge to flirt vicariously with your sexual fantasies from teenhood, this is the site for you.

Poetry alert!!!

AFTER LOVE
-Maxine Kumin-

Afterwards, the compromise.
Bodies resume their boundaries.

These legs, for instance mine.
Your arms take you back in.

Spoons of our fingers, lips
admit their ownership.

The bedding yawns, a door
blows aimlessly ajar

and overhead, a plane
singsongs coming down.

Nothing has changed, except
there was a moment when

the wolf, the mongering wolf
who stands outside the self

lay lightly down, and slept."

Swept Away..

You are sitting in your home close to the shore. Your family makes its living by the sea, for generations. You could be cooking, taking care of children. You could be preparing to work in one of the resorts. It is early. There might be several generations living in this house with you, grandparents, parents, children. The sound begins like a hissing, you think it is just a car or the wind. It then begins to sound like a growl, then a rumble. Then a roar..As your world explodes around you. A wall of water hits your fragile home. You get tumbled into debris and are hitting things as you are flung inland. You're in darkness till your head clears water. You don't recognize where you are. Wood, steel, and the remains of many homes float around you. You are being pummeled by what is floating around you. A hand floats amongst the wreckage, you grab it to realize it is a family member. You try to hang on but the surging water tears it away. You grab onto a tree as the water recedes back to the shore. Pulling as hard as you can, you manage to pull yourself onto some branches, out of the danger. For the first time you see, truly see what has happened. Houses, places that have always been there your whole life-gone. Wreckage, piled on top of each other, scattered around you. Then you start to see what else lies in the debris: bodies. Hundreds it seems, so many tangled arms and limbs and torsos. Faces can sometimes be seen, most are battered and cut.
You recognize some, none are family that you can tell. You find it hard to breathe. There is pain all over. Ribs and limbs probably are broken. But you are alive, and in the following days you wish you were not.
The day after the bodies start to pile up. It is hot, and the smell begins. There is no electricity, food or fresh water. Corpses float on shore like seaweed, and will do so for weeks. There is always the fear of another great wave with every tide. You work to help carry the bodies, hoping to find your family. You might find one, the rest may never be found. The survivors start to get sick from the lack of clean water, and from the rot of bodies. The government is overwhelmed. It is a poor place you live. All you can think about is survival, and the essential questions. Why you? Why them? Now what?

I survived another one...

I just got back from the backwoods from anonther xmas in Martin County. It will go down as another reminder whyI left in the first place. One uncle's current girlfriend was fighting with the ex, including a fight with pistol whipping. My grandfather still is a cranky old fart. More details to come.....

my fave Xmas song

Santa Baby
written by J. Javits and P. Springer

Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me
I've been an awful good girl
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Santa baby, an out-of-space convertible too, light blue
I'll wait up for you dear
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Think of all the fun I've missed
Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed
Next year I could be oh so good

If you'd check off my Christmas list Boo doo bee doo
Santa honey, I wanna yacht and really that'sNot a lot
I've been an angel all year
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Santa cutie, there's one thing I really do need, the deed
To a platinum mine
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Santa baby, I'm filling my stocking with a duplex, and checks
Sign your 'X' on the line
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Come and trim my Christmas tree
With some decorations bought at Tiffany's
I really do believe in you
Let's see if you believe in me Boo doo bee doo

Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring
I don't mean a phone
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry down the chimney tonight

Not yet the end of the story...

An open letter to Clint...
We've had a short, but eventful friendship. You were there at the beginning of my Blog Journey, then only person I know who reads it occasionally. You inspired me to write, and write better. We only got to meet twice: once at Lynaughs, when I was fighting a migrane, and Ramsey's, when I was fighting off a cold. It never seemed to put you off that I was a witch, or poly, or just a plain freak. I enjoyed the fact you treated me as an intellectual equal even though I know I am a flake lol. The biggest thing I admire you for is being to deal with your depression and follow your hearts desire. And for you to pack up and go from frigid Lexington to insanely cold Chicago for that heart's desire proves you have a depth of courage I will probably never find, but am inspired to try. I wish you and Robin every happiness imaginable to humans, and don't forget your buddies you left behind here. Blessed be to you.
Affectionately,
zezrie.

Religion and sex are strange bedfellows....

Spent time with Mr. Cool this weekend. This man is a devout Christian, I am an equally devout witch. We were talking possibilities as all couples do, an he stated he could not marry outside his faith. Ok, I thought, I can respect that, I really don't have an urge to marry. Nor would I force my faith on another as a requirement to have a relationship with me. Now, here's the kicker: he said since we could not marry we could just shack up and have babies....
The riddle is: does this or does this not go against everything Baptists believe? He would rather live in sin and have kids out of wedlock than do the common sense thing and just get married first? The of course it dawns on me that like many fellow Christians ( not all, but many), he bends the rules that he thinks others should follow. All Humanity does this, to assuage guilt instead of just taking the step of being true to ones' self despite what archaic, unrealistic religious laws dictate. So I sighed inwardly, smiled at him outwardly, and just said maybe.....

A shocking announcement

This is an announcement for all those well meaning couples who want me to be part of a poly triad with them: I am not Bi. At one point I tried to talk myself into being at least curious, but that too has diminished. Women just don't turn me on. Now, if a woman wants to go down on me, fine, I will close my eyes and pretend its Russell Crowe. As for me doing the eating, this is an idea I just cant wrap my mind ( or tongue) around. I want to be part of triad, but with two men, not a couple. I just don't seem to relate well to other women. I don't understand the need to fight over men. I've recently seen a woman try to compete with me over a guy. She was catty, vindictive, petty, and just plain nasty. I walked away from both of them, woman and guy. I have enough drama in my life from the daily ins and outs, I don't need it over a guy. There are 5.2 BILLION humans on this planet, half are men. Now granted I wont be attracted to all of them, but there are enough around for there to be no need to fight. I just don't like to compete. If I live with two guys, hey there's a spare. Do I get jealous? Sure I do, but that has more to do with my own insecurities than worrying about the guy leaving. This happened with Dan this summer. I got tired of being put second for another woman, so I left him to her. It might be psychological: I will not compete with anyone over something that is not worth fighting over. If a guy wants me, he knows where I am. He wants another, fine go be with her.
Maybe that's why men like me. I don't give them a hard time over silly stuff. I don't smother. Rather, I like my space, and its a rare man who wants to smother back. I let them do their own thing. Like I said if they want to be with me, they know where I am. I'm not offended easily. I am moody, and some men are freaky about that, its why I live alone. So, I wont be part of a FFM triangle anytime soon. Just thought I'd let you know

The freakiest movie I've seen all year...And I watch strange movies...

Here is an admission I have never made here but friends and people who have actually slept with me know this as truth: I am an insomniac. I don't fall asleep easily, and I wake up 15 times a night. So I know what it feels like to go without proper sleep. That being said, I hadn't meant to go to the Kentucky Theatre last night to see a movie, but went anyway to take a chance on a movie I had heard nothing about. I'm glad and creeped out I did.
The Machinist ( http://www.machinistmovie.com/index2.asp ) shows just ho far into the depths of hell a human being can go with no sleep. Christian Bale, also excellent in American Psycho , is astonishing as Trevor Resnik, a machinist who has not slept in over a YEAR. He has no idea why and his life us unraveling at an accelerated place. He starts to see things all around him, his apartment, his work, and at his hooker girlfriend's place (played by a very appealing and not looking her age Jennifer Jason Leigh). His paranoia is rampant, and forgets simple things, like paying bills. He starts to see a guy named Ivan, a sort of evil shadow with no fingers, who supposedly works with him on third shift. It is as he's starting at this supposed person that a coworker gets his hand caught in a cutting bench because if his distraction. At the same time he starts to date a waitress with a little boy who gets sick in his company at an amusement park. The note he leaves to himself start to change, with a hang man on a post-it that changes every time he sees it. The most horrible part of Trevor's life is his appearance: his plummeting weight, showing the physical deterioration of no sleep. I have often heard the the phrase of looking like Hell before breakfast, but this guy is emaciated, Holocaust style. What Rene Zellweger did for actors gaining weight for a part, Christian Bale should do for extreme weight loss.
The movie quickly shows Trevor's speeding descent into hell. Directed by Brad Anderson (Happy Accidents) and written by Scot Kozar, the movie drags us along on the ride. Everything is set in greys. The cinematography is set so that the viewer feels as lost as Trevor does. He chases Ivan in a red sports car, and when he goes to the cops with the plate number, they tell him its his car. He starts to see either Ivan or pieces of his clothing everywhere, making him turn on everyone. Trevor even cut Ivan's throat in one scene, and when he tries to dump the body, the body rolls out of the carpet its placed in, but there is no body there literally. Scot Kozar is the writer also responsible for Texas Chainsaw Massacre and The Amityville Horror, so he knows how to literally creep the viewer out. But the end of the movie I was creeping in my own skin, an as exhausted as Trevor was. This movie is not easy to watch, but satisfying.

What zezrie wants for Yuletide if she had wealthy clientele..

A fellow blogging friend of mine was recently bitching on his blog about other bloggers putting useless lists on theirs (you know who you are !). Thus, to annoy him further, I am putting a list on mine. If I were a high class callgirl, these are the 10 things Id want for Yuletide., in no order. Hell for that matter, and generous fan of the blog can give me these too, I'm not proud.

The house on the corner of High and Rose.
A baby blue Ipod
An Ibook to go with the Ipod.
A house in Key West
A fully stocked studio
All expenses paid opportunity to finish my education
A years supply of Nike Shox TLs ( three pairs)
Unlimited spa visits for a year
Plastic surgery
Trip around the world..

And the 11th, peace on earth and goodwill toward all..but won't be getting that either.

Worshipping at the altar of psychobilly...

0n Friday night the heavens of rock and roll opened and The Rev. Horton Heat descended on The Dame. The good Rev. Has been a mainstay of my music collection since the early 90's. I didn't get to see him this past Feb. Because of the flu. This time I was nursing a hip injury from running ( actually a repeat of a injury from summer), but was determined to go if I had to crawl..And just about did. I held up the side of the bar right where the bands go backstage..Best place in the Dame.
Split Lip Rayfield started the night, a hot rockabilly trio from Kansas City. The hurled rockabilly bluegrass at us for a sold hour with no let up. The standing bass player's instrument was made out of what appearing to me as an old car radiator with a two strings attached..But he wailed on it. There was a couple in front of me, very involved with their music who swayed and jumped the whole set-it was fun to watch. Split Lip Rayfield will be back to the Dame, and I shall be there.
The Rev. came out about 11:30, by the time my hip started screaming. This was the very first time I had seen The Dame sold completely out. There were about 500 people there, conservatively. The music started, and crowd started moving in unison. Beer was flying through the air and no one cared at that point. Horton was dressed like Porter Wagner on acid-dayglow green with purple flames. Jimbo Wallace was on upright bass and Scott Churilla was on drums, dressed in black mechanic shirts. And as usual, all three leveled the building. They played old faves like Wiggle Stick, Big Blue Car, and Low Flying Plane. They did a takeoff on the instrumental Tequila called Marijuana and the crowd went nuts. The band covered swing, punkabilly, and country seamlessly from one song to the next. My only real disappointment was that Rev. Didn't do Sermon on the Jimbo at the end, but did do Psycobilly Freakout for the encore. I left the concert in a great deal of pain and covered in beer, but otherwise musically satisfied.

Biological clocks suck.

Lexington has a water problem, and it has nothing to do with ownership of the company. Today at the KY Clinic, as far as the eye could see, were babies. I'm not talking about annoying toddlers....But dozens of babies under the age of one, like I love them. Thus my conclusion was that pregnancy was in the water sometime last Feb, and somehow I didn't drink. The biological clock fired up, starting at a soft wrist watch tick to a screaming Big Ben Level blast. It drives me nuts too. At this particular place in time, there is not a man in my life I would even contemplate having a child with. Yet, there all the babies were perfect and sweet and loving. I am fully aware I cant even take care of myself properly, let alone another life. The yearning is still there...
For some crazed reason, I want to have a child the old fashioned way--with a husband. I grew up with a single mother, and saw how hard it was on her everyday to keep us afloat. And we were brats that didn't make it easier. I want to go through the experience of getting pregnant with a man who adores me, who wants a child as badly as I do. I want a child that is the reflection of love two people have with each other. This man has to be as excited with every step of the process. Now I know that it is possible that this might happen. Whether this is probable I rather much doubt. I'm 33, and yes I know there are stupid women popping out babies at 57. Not this girl. I wont have a child after 40. So that leaves me 7 years. Yes its possible.....
I will say this: I wont feel incomplete without a baby. Disappointed but not incomplete.

Two Faces

It always amazes me when I find out the truth about people. I always wonder why we all feel the need to put up a false front. As a race are we really that fragile, that afraid? Ive had a man professing his love for me, then tonight I find out what he truly is. It didnt hurt me, I really do not have feelings for this man. I like him but not love him. It bothers me more that Ive lost Dan's friendship. The amazing thing about this guy is that he tried to use honesty as a selling point with me. It just confounds me. Ive been lied to by men...Im not any different from any other woman. I trust people till they give me a reason not to. This man just crossed the line. I didnt trust him really, he was too good to be true. Im not a child, so any men who read this...dont insult my intelligence and you will be just fine.

World AIDS Day...In my corner of the planet

I want to talk about Jerry for a moment. Jerry was my parents friend for 12 years. He worked with my father in the coal mines in Colorado. He was married to a much younger woman, Joanne, and they lived with three small children that my sister and I were older than. He had been born in France, and grew up in Missouri. He had been a Navy Seal in Viet Nam, and was a black belt in karate. This man spoke at least languages, and was the first real painter I had ever met. He got me interested in art, and Edith Piaf. Jerry went back to school and became a dentist in the mid 80s, eventually becoming an instructor in a dental school. And sometime in the 80s, caught HIV off of a patient. He died in the mid 90's.
I'm sharing this with you because I think every story of every victim in this pandemic is important. This disease is not faceless, sexless, or anonymous. It knows no borders, either of money, race, gender, or age. The powers that be would like to us to think that AIDS doesn't effect Americans anymore, that abstinence programs work and the need for easily available condoms are not necessary. This country has to wake the hell up and realize that this is serious, the whole world is being rocked from it, and to stop living in lala land. Before it's too late, if it isn't already.
Jerry would be in his 60s now. His kids are grown, he has grandchildren he never knew. His wife lives with her HIV under control, something he could not do. We have the technology to slow it down all over the world. Ingnorance is the worst perpetrator of this disease. Let us all band together loner than one day a year to stop it.

The first cool thing of Yuletide has arrived...Besides the damn weather...

Tonight is the official start of the holiday TV season: Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer comes on at 8PM. Call me sentimental, silly, or childish if you must, but this time of year is only made tolerable by Xmas specials. Memories of my mom making fudge and us watching Rudolph, Frosty, Grinch ( the original, not the piece of crap movie) are some of the best memories I have of childhood. If I have to deal with all the horse shit that otherwise comes with this month, you better believe I'm enjoying my xmas cartoons with no guilt. I mean, I'm doing Yuletide in my own way, starting my own traditions, trying not to fall into the commercialism of it. So tonight at 8 I will be in front of the TV with popcorn, purple fuzzy blanky and the whole crew from the Island of Misfit Toys...never too late to have a happy childhood.