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sunday kind of love…….. todd rundgren

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i  have been posting music for as long as I’ve been blogging. 2006 was the year of my first post. I was really just investigating the medium. i was 2 years into my recovery and needed something more. In the process I met a circle of like minded individuals across the continent and further who enhanced my support network and helped alleviate greatly the anxiety that my early recovery heralded.

Along with the beautiful addition of online support, the evolution of my 10 year journey with blogging has cemented my lifelong love and reliance upon music. This continues to this day. Today’s offering….. Todd Rundgren. His name music will speak for itself.-

 

 

 

i’m a legal alien

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You see me walking down Fifth Avenue A walking cane here at my side I take it everywhere I walk I'm an Englishman in New York I'm an alien, I'm a legal alien I'm an Englishman in New York I'm an alien, I'm a legal alien I'm an Englishman in New York If, "Manners maketh man" as someone said He's that hero of the day It takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile Be yourself no matter what they say I'm an alien, I'm a legal alien I'm an Englishman in New York I'm an alien, I'm a legal alien I'm an Englishman in New York Modesty, propriety can lead to notoriety You could end up as the only one Gentleness, sobriety, rare in this society At night a candle's brighter than the sun Takes more than combat gear to make a man Takes more than a license for a gun Confront your enemies, avoid them when you can A gentleman will walk but never run... Sting...englishman in new york...
You see me walking down Fifth Avenue
A walking cane here at my side
I take it everywhere I walk
I’m an Englishman in New York
I’m an alien, I’m a legal alien
I’m an Englishman in New York
I’m an alien, I’m a legal alien
I’m an Englishman in New York
If, “Manners maketh man” as someone said
He’s that hero of the day
It takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile
Be yourself no matter what they say
I’m an alien, I’m a legal alien
I’m an Englishman in New York
I’m an alien, I’m a legal alien
I’m an Englishman in New York
Modesty, propriety can lead to notoriety
You could end up as the only one
Gentleness, sobriety, rare in this society
At night a candle’s brighter than the sun
Takes more than combat gear to make a man
Takes more than a license for a gun
Confront your enemies, avoid them when you can
A gentleman will walk but never run… Sting…englishman in new york…

6 FEELINGS ONLY EX-PARTY GIRLS CAN TRULY UNDERSTAND

There comes a time when every seasoned party girl hangs up her party pants. At some point, life stops being about cigarettes and champagne at an impromptu party thrown by some artist she just met at an East Village bar in his trendy Bowery loft at 4AM on a Wednesday morning, and starts being about early Vinyasa followed by juice and bagels. At some point, she stops buying drugs and starts spending her money on home improvements. When instead of Googling the hottest new place to eat, most of her searches relate either to how long food can be kept in the freezer or how to really make houseplants thrive. When she trades in spontaneity for regularity. This time, for most, will inevitably come around – and it isn’t as depressing as it sounds. In fact, it can be wonderful. But the feelings involved with this transition are mixed and many.

It’s the time when she decides that sleeping until 2PM and subsisting on coffee and nicotine isn’t cute anymore. I can’t tell you exactly when or how it happens, but for me, it began with an apathy towards smoky eye make up that started creeping in very slowly. I was suddenly just very uninspired to spend time on that. And so I started to go to partying without eye make- up. Ah, the slow and bitter unravelling of the party girl!

The nail in my party girl coffin came after a string of crazy weekends, when one morning I found myself on a rooftop watching the sun rise over Manhattan and talking to people I’d never met before, and who I knew I would never see again. And when I say talking I mean listening to their shit silently, while a voice screamed in my head “THIS IS SUCH A WASTE OF TIME”. Two years have gone by, and with nary a party to add to my resume, I’ve been feeling a lot of feels, probably ones that only ex party girls will truly understand….. read the rest of this bustle.com re-post after the jump…

the following vid was posted on google plus by the mad man wolfgang mueller. it has stirred echoes within me.  i hope it does at least that for you..

without music … life would be unfair

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“Everybody loves something. Even if it’s just tortillas.” ~Chogyam Trungpa
“Everybody loves something. Even if it’s just tortillas.” ~Chogyam Trungpa

 

 

 

ht

tp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OE5IlytgiJs

 

is that all there is???

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I remember when I was a very little girl, our house caught on fire. I'll never forget the look on my father's face as he gathered me up In his arms and raced through the burning building out to the pavement. I stood there shivering in my pajamas and watched the whole world go up in flames. And when it was all over I said to myself, "Is that all there is to a fire?"... peggy lee
I remember when I was a very little girl, our house caught on fire.
I’ll never forget the look on my father’s face as he gathered me up
In his arms and raced through the burning building out to the pavement.
I stood there shivering in my pajamas and watched the whole world go up in flames.
And when it was all over I said to myself,
“Is that all there is to a fire?”… peggy lee

am trying to reconcile the events of the last 2 months. had been working on a program for a couple of years and giving a big slice of my time and energy. shifts in philosophy at the workplace brought disenchantment on my part and lifted the veil on a sense of futility i’m a survivor but not a fighter. after about 6 months of realizing that the program in question was merely a photo-shopped image in a frame meant to allude to a scope of success that wasn’t real. it is like the cory gardner tv political ads showing him with his grandmother, in a local diner, and hiking in some “dick’s sporting goods” couture silently infers that he is simple folk. he is a social climber first, mountain climber last. so it was with my last project. it was treatment compliance first, recovery much much later ( if ever it might seem)

this revelation shattered my orbit. and i responded as i repeatedly do. i walked away. ready to start over. as is my experience. as is my modus operandi. this character defect may very well need to be examined or no doubt it will rear its howling head.

the next move taken seemed effortless. it required no thought or real energy and provided a six-week vacation which was both fulfilling and draining at the same time. turns out that living without a connection to inspiration is harder than working an 80 hour week. and it turns out that the easy button remains a ghost ideal in my story. very little of any real value will fall gently upon my desk. the value in living accompanies the game, the strategy, the problem solving, and most importantly the motivation. swimming in a sea of malcontent clogs the pores of inspiration. and creativity doesn’t respond well to regulary fired dismissives. it’s like a dog that continually urinates on a patch of the lawn until its dead.

without buy-in, my life is just a read-through and frankly, there’s not that much life yet to waste.

odd turn of events just now though. had submitted resumes to 3 organizations and just today received a call for an interview.  drawing conclusions, making assumptions about future events is not my strong suit. starting over is well within my skill set. probably one of my sharpest tools. but the same old same old does not feel as comfortable as it has before. is it ennui? i it melancholy? is that all there is?

mebbe this post can be viewed as an affirmation. with regard to personal growth, it would be an adventure to not repeat my routine.

on another melancholy note… i remember seeing peggy lee live at the drury lane theater in chicago in the late 70’s during my short stint as a cosmetology student at ippilito’s school in the suburbs. the stage had oxygen blowing directly on her because her COPD was so advanced. the show was sublime and that is another show whose memory i will covet until the end.

 

ain’t it the truth?

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Being a survivor doesn't mean being strong - it's telling people when you need a meal or a ride, company, whatever. It's paying attention to heart wisdom, feelings, not living a role, but having a unique, authentic life, having something to contribute, finding time to love and laugh. All these things are qualities of survivors....Bernie Seigel
Being a survivor doesn’t mean being strong – it’s telling people when you need a meal or a ride, company, whatever. It’s paying attention to heart wisdom, feelings, not living a role, but having a unique, authentic life, having something to contribute, finding time to love and laugh. All these things are qualities of survivors….Bernie Seigel

 

Good times and bum times, I’ve seen them all, and, my dear,
I’m still here.
Plush velvet sometimes, sometimes just pretzels and beer,
but I’m here.
I’ve stuffed the dailies in my shoes,
strummed ukuleles, sung the blues.
Seen all my dreams disappear,
but I’m here.

I’ve slept in shanties, guest of the W.P.A.,
and I’m here.
Danced in my scanties, three bucks a night was the pay,
and I’m here.
I’ve stood on bread lines with the best,
watched while the headlines did the rest.
In the depression was I depressed? Nowhere near.
I met a big financier,
and I’m here.

I’ve been through Gandhi, Windsor and Wally’s affair,
and I’m here.
Amos ‘n’ Andy, mah-jongg and platinum hair,
and I’m here.
I got through Abie’s Irish Rose, five Dionne babies, Major Bowes,
Had heebie-jeebies for Beebe’s Bathysphere.
I got through Shirley Temple,
and I’m here

I’ve gotten through Herbert and J. Edgar Hoover;
gee, that was fun and a half!
When you’ve been through Herbert and J. Edgar Hoover,
anything else is a laugh.

I’ve been through Reno, I’ve been through Beverly Hills,
and I’m here.
Reefers and vino, rest cures, religion and pills,
but I’m here.
Been called a “pinko-commie tool,” got through it stinko by my pool.
I should’ve gone to an acting school, that seems clear.
Still, someone said, “She’s sincere,”
so I’m here.

Black leather one day, next day it goes into hock,
but I’m here.
Top billing Monday, Tuesday you’re touring in stock,
but I’m here.
First you’re another sloe-eyed vamp, then someone’s mother, then you’re camp;
then you career from career to career.
I’m almost through my memoirs,
and I’m here.

I’ve gotten through “Hey, buddy, aren’t you whoozis?
Wow, what a looker you coulda been.”
Or better yet, “Sorry, I thought you were whoozis;
Whatever happened to him?”

Good times and bum times, I’ve seen ’em all, and, my dear,
I’m still here.
Plush velvet sometimes, sometimes just pretzels and beer,
but I’m here.
I’ve run the gamut, A to Z;
three cheers and, dammit, c’est la vie.
I got through all of last year,
and I’m here.
Lord knows, at least I’ve been there, and I’m here.
Look who’s here.
I’m still here.

budapest- a labyrinth of friendships, spirals, and touchstones

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“In the past, when gays were very flamboyant as drag queens or as leather queens or whatever, that just amused people. And most of the people that come and watch the gay Halloween parade, where all those excesses are on display, those are straight families, and they think it's funny. But what people don't think is so funny is when two middle-aged lawyers who are married to each other move in next door to you and your wife and they have adopted a Korean girl and they want to send her to school with your children and they want to socialize with you and share a drink over the backyard fence. That creeps people out, especially Christians. So, I don't think gay marriage is a conservative issue. I think it's a radical issue.”  ― Edmund White
“In the past, when gays were very flamboyant as drag queens or as leather queens or whatever, that just amused people. And most of the people that come and watch the gay Halloween parade, where all those excesses are on display, those are straight families, and they think it’s funny. But what people don’t think is so funny is when two middle-aged lawyers who are married to each other move in next door to you and your wife and they have adopted a Korean girl and they want to send her to school with your children and they want to socialize with you and share a drink over the backyard fence. That creeps people out, especially Christians. So, I don’t think gay marriage is a conservative issue. I think it’s a radical issue.”
― Edmund White

 

realizing that i have conducted a “lean” process in my life and changed my workload drastically, it is advised that i make contact with friends and support as much as possible in the near future to buffer the transition. i have been actively making this adjustment.

today was a quick and delightful lunch with my oldest and intimate friend. we’ve known each other over 50 years and there is very little need for back story or for validation it’s already embedded. found myself working out the choreography of my next main event. it was comforting as much as it was directional. being an established survivor, i became clear that the skill set survivorship requires needs to be included in the next portfolio. while the value of crunching numbers and coloring within the lines bears credo, resiliency and adaptability remain the legend that defines this journey’s topography.

the life lessons that emerge from daily encounters routinely seem as obfuscated as the sunday nyt jigsaw clues. the answers are there, but do not bubble up with the initial introduction. time, spirals, and steeping in the juices of trial an error are required for a rich and flavorful brew. perhaps the morning cuppa is directly related to the ongoing task of distilling the ever-changing landscape of perspective.

friendships are like touchstones. they provide memory and spiritual connection in almost any brief exchange. today’s  lunch excursion did not disappoint. a reminder of a connecting thread beyond the recent employer side-show grounded me from regret and tethered me from rising into the fog of self-doubt.

as i watched a recent episode of norton graham, i became enchanted with a singer-songwriter george ezra. he has received accolades about a tune he penned by the name of “budapest”. some personal experience parallels  his claim that the song has nothing to do with the city of budapest other than his inability to complete his plans to travel there because he missed his train. this resonates and is totally relate-able to me. i remember itention of going places and have repeatedly found myself not there at all.

go figure

. not knowing is a radical issue and requires divining some radical acceptance.

Give me one good reason
Why I should never make a change
Baby if you hold me
Then all of this will go away

Give me one good reason
Why I should never make a change
Baby if you hold me
Then all of this will go away

My house in Budapest
My, my hidden treasure chest,
Golden grand piano
My beautiful Castillo…. george ezra