Okay, For What It’s Worth

I listened to Pearl Jam with the headphones on, and secretly hated the man I loved.

He had me convinced that my family back home was not worth going home to.

He told me that I didn’t know what real love was, unless I was willing to love him and forgive him all his sins against me even though he tossed me around our apartment like a rag doll and choked me until I couldn’t breathe.

He paid off my $4000 credit card bill by moving my paycheck into a direct deposit to his checking account and then giving me an allowance every two weeks.

He let me have no friends and no visitors unless he cleared them first.  I had no friends.

He slammed me against the wall and threw me down onto the floor and kept his hands on my throat every time.

He told me loved me.

He told me that I didn’t understand what real love was.

But when he took his handgun out of his waistband and said, “You leave me, I will kill you, I will hunt you down and kill you, or kill myself or a cop,” I ran.

I ran, and I ran, and I ran.

I got home to New York from California, I ran so hard.

Thank you for letting me get that all out.  It’s taken years to finally say it properly.  I still probably didn’t say it properly, but…it’s out.

And…I’m okay, for what it’s worth.

 

 

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My (Almost) Definitive Repertoire

Here is a list of all the songs I’ve sung in karaoke that garnered huge applause and praise.

And, yes, the list keeps growing.

Patsy Cline: “Walking After Midnight” and “Back in Baby’s Arms”

Jethro Tull: “Locomotive Breath” and “Aqualung”

Golden Earring: “Twilight Zone”

Stevie Nicks: “Gold Dust Woman,” “Dreams,” and “Sara”

Anna Nalick:  “2 AM”

Radiohead: “Creep”

Bush: “Comedown”

Elton John: “Rocket Man”

Simply Red: “Holding Back the Years”

Tracy Chapman: “Give Me One Reason”

The Pretenders:  “Message of Love,” “Don’t Get Me Wrong,” and “Brass In Pocket”

Blondie: “The Tide is High”

Sixpence None the Richer: “Kiss Me”

Norah Jones: “Come Away With Me,” and “Don’t Know Why”

Bobby Darin: “Mack the Knife”

Frank Sinatra: “In Other Words” (a/k/a “Fly Me to the Moon”)

Stockard Channing in GREASE: “There Are Worse Things I Could Do”

Robert Palmer: “Addicted to Love,” and “Bad Case of Loving You” (a/k/a “Doctor, Doctor”)

Divinyls: “I Touch Myself”

Stealers Wheel: “Stuck in the Middle with You”

The Rolling Stones:  “Sympathy for the Devil” and “Shattered”

So…anyone wanna hire me?

 

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Y’All Better Get This Straight

Stopping Mueller isn’t about one president or one party. It’s about all presidents and all parties. It’s about cleaning out and reforming the deep state so that our intelligence operations are never used against opposing campaigns without the firmest of evidence. It’s about letting people work for campaigns and administrations without needing legal defense funds. It’s about relying on our elections to decide our differences.” – Mark Penn, former Clinton advisor, 5/20/18

Now that it’s come out, through leaks to Washington Post and the New York Times, that, YES, Trump’s campaign was spied upon, or – ooh – should I say eavesdropped upon?? – all I can say to any silly anti-Trumper who thinks this is okay, because Trump, is that y’all best think twice about how our own DOJ and FBI worked against an incoming presidential campaign.

Because…it could happen to you.

Just sayin’.

 

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My Longest Sentence of the Year

I love walking through the house at dusk, in spring, with the lights down low – or not even on at all – and letting the chartreuse and olive green leaves of the trees outside, which seem to be holding onto the last of the sunlight, light up the inside of my rooms through the windows like the huge fish tanks at Monterey Bay Aquarium…it’s like living in an underwater treehouse.

 

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Imagine…If You Will

Imagine, if you will, that George W. Bush felt worried about an outsider like Obama taking over the White House.  So he takes opposition research from McCain and uses it against this new incoming President to spy on him before Obama even takes office.

Wouldn’t you be a little concerned about that?

 

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Epiphany

So, after 53 years of life on this planet, I finally learn that the person I want most to fall in love with is…me.

I just realized that the love I had with Rob, which wasn’t perfect, was just about the closest I will ever get to near perfect.  And I broke up with him, thinking I could do better.

Now he’s dead, and I’m alone and have to shave my legs again.

And the men I have to shave my legs for are not even worthy of my razor.

They all want to get in my pants but won’t mow my lawn.  They want to have their dicks rubbed but won’t help me blow my leaves.

Had I known all of this, I would never have grown older…I would’ve just been a singer.

Oh well.

At least I have my cats.

 

 

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Madness Forms…or Not

In the winter of my discontent, I feel hollow and empty because my love is dead and the only people left alive in my life don’t understand me for crying over my dead.

It’s enough to make one mad, only, we are already mad because one half of our country is happy and the other half of our country wants it proven that Putin paid some hacker to hack that which was already freely and clearly given up by some washed up almost forgotten old hag who thought she should be president simply because she wanted to be.

Russian literature only wishes it had it this good.

But, I digress.

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