Superinky Fixations

Back from my refreshing retreat in the woods. Silver Falls is beeeyouteefull beyond measure; hiked a lot and did some hokey exercises where we all basically sat around in a circle praising each other for hours (a "Circle of Strength" if you will, which caused many women to break down crying and hugging spontaneously). My god am I bitter. Seems the overarching impression I gave of the women at the leadership retreat was that of my impressive taste in music (thank you Anton Newcombe!). I’m sure at least one of them is convinced she wants to own a Brian Jonestown Massacre cd and at least one other will visit their website, though primarily they teased me and wanted to know what drugs I was taking when I decided I liked them.

Mostly I felt I was a source of amusement for them, an oddity and a freak. But more impressive, though secretly so, is that I truly believe all of them thought I was somewhere around the age of 24. And believe you me, I was not about to correct them. I just about cracked up, though, yesterday, when this woman who I KNOW couldn’t have been 40 addressed me almost patronizingly and said something to the affect of how she was "so much older" than me and had been "through so much more". I smiled a lot and wondered quietly to myself if she had done half the crazy shit I’ve done over the years. Though, who knows, I reserve judgment. Maybe she was a crack whore for a while, or a circus freak or some sort of vagabond hippie that followed the Dead for a few years, selling hemp bracelets and mushrooms for tickets and hummus. I suspect not, but we all know what happens when we assume.

Among other things, I decided this week that I will make a conscious effort not to nod and smile all the time, especially when I don’t really mean it. After all, it’s such a Woman thing to do and basically represents everything I say I hate. It’s going to be hard since it’s something I do without really thinking. But I know now that mindlessly nodding in agreement (even when I’m pretending to listen) erodes my own self worth and ability to truly express my thoughts.

I tried buying the BJM ep "We are the Radio" yesterday, but Everyday Music was already out and can’t get it for a week. I guess I’m not in a huge hurry, considering most of it’s available on-line and, well, it’s all about patience, babies. I admit I am more curious to find the bittorent of the BJM show at Lollapalooza from this past weekend. I hear it’s available at Dime, but was unable to log in and am now feeling thoroughly deprived. I will continue to feel profoundly deprived until I can get my grubby little hands on it, too. HELP.

Oh, and then bretty dropped the bomb yesterday. He’s just the cutest, really. Trust me, he’s a gem and absolutely open and cool and smart and funny and completely enamored with me. I mean, apparently he is, considering he tattooed my initial on his leg in a huge cool block font while I was gone this week. See it here.

I’m jonesing for the High Dials and the Out Crowd tomorrow night at Dante’s. Honestly, $8 is a bargain for what I know is going to be a mind-blowing show. I hope the High Dials bust out the sitars. I’ve heard they can get very psychedelic. And come one, come all, especially you closet Dandy Warhol geeks, I know you’re out there, next week at the Low Dough Show, Eric Hedford’s band, We are Telephone is playing. I was skeptical at first too, haters, but really, they’ll get you dancing! And $FIVE DOLLAR$$ God, I sound like a commercial.

Oh yeah, and babysitting tomorrow… Must stock up on candy for the kids tonight.

R.I.P. little rat babies we had to "dispose" of you today because, well, it was either you or us. I couldn’t live with myself if you guys took over our backyard and threatened the health and well being of our dogs. So I know you’re in a better place now. Amen.

I’m excited to get the hell out of town for a few days and totally unwind. To be honest, I’m hoping to unwind and do a little soul searching, yet I’m not too sure what to expect once my bags are unpacked and I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere for several days. I’ll be with people I’ve never met and in an unfamiliar place without my dogs (again). Still, I’m hopeful I’ll glean something useful, dare I say powerful, from my 4 days in Silver Falls, OR. Someone must’ve thought I had it in me to be a leader of some sort, or else I would’ve never been granted a scholarship to the thing in the first place.

Oh, but I haven’t even begun packing and I forgot all the directions and paperwork back at the office. That’s so me, after all. Guess I’m just going to have to wing it in the way only I can wing it. Actually, before I dive bomb into profound negativity, I’m just going to nip it in the bud right now and say I shall Fake it til I Make it. This mantra has served me well over the years. Though my mantra won’t pack my bags. Guess I better get off my ass here soon and fill up my suitcase.

So we’re babysitting the niece and nephew next weekend. The game plan is to take the youngsters to the aquarium in Newport, get them jacked on sugar and penguins and set them loose on their parents in the late evening… Is it wrong that I’m suddenly more excited for the The High Dials and The Out Crowd show at Berbati’s that’s going on next Saturday night and am actually concerned we may miss a song or two before we can get to the gig? I’m an awful auntie just for thinking that, I know! Can I help it that the older I get the more certain I am that I don’t want to have my own children?

Ok, so I’ve successfully integrated my Brian Jonestown Massacre Experience in San Francisco into my psyche. Next up: the BJM show here in Portland on September 8th. Will my excitement ever cease? Anton, know there is a lotta luv for you up here in Stumptown. Oh my god do I need to get myself a life.

Last night Brian and Doug treated us to a yummy BBQ, including a delicious green bean-onion-garlic concoction picked fresh from their garden and lightly grilled right on the BBQ. And dessert! Grilled peaches, bananas and pineapple with fresh vanilla ice cream. YUM. I swear to you there home is something out of Better Homes and Gardens. They’ve created this water wonderland in the back yard, full of koi and gorgeous water plants, lighting, decking. And they’ve done it all themselves. It’s incredible, truly. They also know how to throw an intimate party. They couldn’t have picked out the 6 other guests more perfectly. We were all somehow slightly coordinated with each other, but none of us really knew each other that well, though we all had Brian & Doug in common. It’s quite a gift, or a highly cultivated talent if you ask me.

It’s too bad they can’t come to bretty "Brettinium" in a couple weeks. Unfortunately they already had a party planned, and, well, unless we turn into gay men between now and August 6th, neither bretty or I are invited. I told them I turned into a gay man every Sunday night at 7pm during Queer as Folk, but apparently, that’s not good enough. Oh well. We shall march onward with the Brettinium without them. **sniff**

Cruel, how being sick robs me of the basic energy needed to get through the day. I’m resentful of having this cold, which really isn’t the best state of mind for healing ones body. Wish I could just give in and rest up. Thankfully I did sleep for long time last night, finally waking up around 12n today. I can’t even remember the last time I slept in that long, even in the deepest depths of a morning-after hang over.

Bottom line, I’m drained completely and just don’t have the energy or inclination to do much of anything. Worst of all, there’s no inspiration from which to write. I need to get out of this funk AND HOW. I’m hopeful the retreat I’m attending next week will fuel me with motivation, self-worth, and a spark for life, 3 things I can’t help but see sorely lacking in me at the moment. God, how sad!

Thanks, Mikey, for hitting me up to The Go Team!. They are fun and spunky and at the same time that they remind me of something long forgotten, like an obscure 60’s soundtrack of a cheeky low budget movie, they are entirely new and fun and every note is a surprise.

So I’m still in my pajamas and it’s darn near 4pm. Haven’t even brushed my teeth yet. Gross, huh? No one will accuse me of not trying to embrace my summer cold.

I mean, I feel completely disoriented. My throat hurts and my nose is running like crazy. And this heat! I’m telling you, last night was sheer hell, tossing and turning with no relief. Believe me, I tried loads of zinc. In fact, I’m still on the stuff. But I caved in and bought some cold medicine and came home from work early so I could get some rest. It’s just not fair! There’s too much going on and the weather is too nice for me to accept my sick fate.

BLAST THE EVIL BACTERIA (or is virus) THAT INVADED MY BODY. I command you to LEAVE NOW.

and one day when I’m thin, successful and indescribably hip, he’ll be in love with me… and me and he and bretty will be a happy family. We’ll have lots of tambourines.

I’m so fried out on work I just don’t think there’s anything inside me left  to contribute. Today I let it slip to one of the managers as she revealed to me she was going to her 2nd interview for another position that I hoped she’d get it and remove herself "from this hell hole". Worst of all I’m just so sickandtired (it really should just be one word imho and since the English language is so fluid, I think I’ll just take it upon myself to create a new mega word) of complaining about it day after day!! For fuck’s sake, it’s like I’m some sort of masochist.

It’s this tricky point I’m at right now where I’m struggling to convince myself that I can do more than just shuffle papers and talk on the phone. BUT WHAT? Ok, following around The Brian Jonestown Massacre on tour is just not a viable option (though I admit there is a certain attraction to the idea… hmmm, I wonder why? Is there a future as a groupie? Would it affect my marriage I wonder?).

Thankfully, I got a scholarship to this leadership retreat deal that, well, I don’t want to talk about too much in depth because I suddenly got paranoid that I shouldn’t speak so bitterly of work unless I keep it completely anonymous. Suffice to say, the retreat is next week and it couldn’t happen at a better time. I need some seriously intensive retreating. And some leadership developing. Perhaps I can develop myself right out of my job and develop into a thinner, more successful and indescribably hipper me.

What a pity party this is tonight!

Anton jamming topless.
And he did freak a couple of times, haters, in a way that was uncomfortable and strange and altogether exacerbated by the hate mongers in the audience. I was close enough to have spoken to the little guy, but really, when it got right down to it, I backed off. Guess I just don’t want to break the allusion. It’s still sinking in. I’m completely off my nut. Joel Gion is totally rad. He keeps the BJM together like the Greek chorus in some tragic ancient play. I wish bretty would grow his sideburns out like Joel’s. Oh, and the photos are crap and totally blurry and just don’t do justice to the whole experience, and frankly, bretty is stealing my thunder with his sudden interest in BJM and especially Joel Gion, so I don’t wanna post the same photo he posted on his blog, so here’s one of the less crappy, but still blurry photos where one can get a sense of the band and also a sense of the direction I’d like to take bretty’s style, especially the sideburns…
Actually, this is a completely sucky entry. You know, I should’ve been paying attention to how to use Flickr. DAMN IT. More photos later I guess. Sweet dreams.

Oh, so very very thrilled today.

First let me bore you with the mundane details…

Strangely, my test this morning for carpal tunnel came back normal, meaning there is no nerve damage whatsoever, further proving my theory that my body has just given up and refuses to work this shitty job. Either that, or the miracle acupuncture treatment I got back on the 30th of June completely cured me. I suppose either is possible.

Now on to the good stuff…

Just 48 short hours before I embark upon my odyssey to San Francisco for the Brian Jonestown Massacre show at the Bottom of the Hill. If you were a big BJM nerd like me, you’d be all over the message boards ooo-ing and ahh-ing and salivating over the likely set list. You’d be swapping BJM stories and dishing your dream sets. You’d be plotting ways to "accidentally" meet the band. And by band, you’d mean Anton Newcombe.

Never mind that I’m dragging bretty, Tiger and Allie to the show against their collective will. NEVER MIND THAT I say.

And furthermore, by some planetary shift and massive universal consciousness elevation brought about by my constant meditation and visualization of a bjm show here in Portland, we just found out today there’s a Brian Jonestown Massacre show scheduled for September 8th at Dante’s Inferno. Bretty bought tickets 24 and 25 of the total 25 tickets sold since it was announced (we think) this morning. Is that obsessive or what? And hello! Tix are just $5. FIVE DOLLARS. Anton, you are so generous, really, giving it away & all.

I’ve paid far more for crappy shows for sure. And you know you have, too.

In celebration, I give you the link to their newest song, God is my Girlfriend. Be offended, be overjoyed, be bored, be incensed, be transformed.

cuz imma gonna blow yo’ MIND wid dis info-mation.

But seriously, I swear to you, I really don’t talk that way all the time, you’ve got to believe me. In fact, I don’t know what came over me. And if, for some reason you’re vibing with me and share the same sensibilities, you’ll totally flip when you dig this morsel… (oh how I love using the ellipses "…")

I’m still coming down off my contact high with Gale Harold (be sure to check out the pics if you can handle the HEAT), the uber-babe from Queer as Folk. And if you don’t know who Gale Harold is and you’ve only just heard of Queer as Folk then, well, what can I say? I assure you, Gale Harold is not ugly.

So what if I spent 11 days cavorting about the states of Oregon, Washington, Vermont and the Province of Quebec? Those 15 seconds with Gale Harold, well, it just proves that I need to get myself a fucking life.

So what if I busted in on his private dinner and he refused to have his photo taken? SO WHAT I ask you? He was pleasant enough and smiled and was soft spoken and didn’t blow me off. I mean, it was one of those moments where I just couldn’t let it go. I’m a starfucker! I admit it!! I will say that I believe I was quite classy because I did not ask him for his autograph (TACKY) and the entire encounter lasted, I’m not exaggerating, 15 - 20 seconds.

Here, just look at him…

Yes, I know. I’m a nerd nerd nerd nerd big fat nerd. … but I met him and you didn’t!!

Of all the celebrities I could’ve encountered on my journeys hither and yon, honestly, besides Anton Newcombe (who lives in a transcendent level beyond mere dazzling star magnetism), I really can’t think of anyone I would’ve liked to have met more than Gale Harold!  After all, he’s the absolute only reason bretty and I watch that show season after season. His is the most compelling and complex character of them all. And he’s HOT. Did I mention that he’s hot?

Leaving tonight for the Vermont-Montreal vacation bash. Strangely, our travel companions were to have arrived in VT on June 30th. I called them today to see if there was anything we could bring that they forgot, you know, like… paprika or some cds. Allie asked me if I’d checked my voice mail (no, my bad… actually, I didn’t even realize she had called…). Come to find out, they were supposed to have flown out of the San Jose airport last week, but showed up at the San Francisco airport instead. An $80 taxi fare later, they still missed their flight and ironically, the first flight they could get to VT leaves tonight. In fact, we’ll actually get to Burlington before they do.

I must admit that part of me is kind of glad they will be on the same wavelength as bretty & I when we all arrive in New England; bratty, tired, hungry and fatigued. Night flights suck and at least there will be company in our misery. I hate that I’m so petty that way.

Last week I got an acupuncture treatment for my wrists and arms. It’s uncanny ladies and gentlemen, but I haven’t had to wear my wrist splints and frankly, I’ve experienced no pain since Thursday morning. A week ago at this time I was pumping 1000 mg of Naproxin Sodium, wearing wrist splints during most of the day, icing my arms at night before bed and then wearing the splints through the nights to keep my wrists from bending and going numb. A friend of mine even hooked me up with some Valium. I’m telling you, none of it addressed the pain I was experiencing from the carpal tunnel like the acupuncture.

I saw a phenomenal acupuncturist, one I used to see over 7 years ago when she was training at OCOM (Oregon College of Oriental Medicine). I vividly recall how great she was even back then. In particular, there was one session where she did a treatment that so relaxed me, it literally felt like I’d had a massage that lasted, I’m not exaggerating, haters, 4 solid days. Imagine feeling as relaxed as you feel during a massage, but for FOUR DAYS SOLID. I’m telling you, Klazina Dobbe is gifted.

During my session, she integrated the acupuncture with essential oils (called Rain Drop therapy by the way. Isn’t that… refreshing? Apparently, the best essential oils for carpal tunnel are Cyprus, Basil and Lemongrass. Kind of a funky hippy, earthy smell, but not entirely unpleasant), light massage, moxa (deep, penetrating heat therapy) and, I know I’m going to lose some of you here, guided visualization and affirmations. She calls herself an Esoteric Acupuncturist.

She believes, as I do, that the body physically manifests inner issues. In my case, I already knew that I hate my job. Shit, I’ve wanted to leave for years. But as much as I talked about leaving and complained about how badly I was treated, I never took action. And so it really doesn’t surprise me that my wrists gave out. It’s like my body is saying "Fuck you. We’re done doing this shitty job and now you’re going to have to figure out what you’re going to do next because we’re not fucking doing any more data entry EVER."

Now come on, who doesn’t know where the Dike Access Road exit is in Woodland? Well, I already know that several of my good friends don’t know the Dike Access Road exit off I-5 and so I suspect that it’s one of those highway exits that just fly under most people’s radar… I guess having driven countless times up and down the I-5 corridor my entire life, Dike Access Road has always stood out to me as a landmark of sorts. Anyway, Klazina’s office is right off Dike Access Road and from the Going Street highway entrance by my house, it’s only a 30 minute drive. Hell, it takes me 20 minutes to drive to work everyday. I cannot recommend her enough.

Her approach to my carpal tunnel was not to get me set up on some regular regime of acupuncture therapy, but to cure me. She did give me some herbal medicine, but really, she mentioned nothing about coming back anytime soon. I like that about her. She doesn’t force her agenda on anyone. I’ll go back to her because she’s good and so far the pain in my arms has been reduced significantly. And I’ll tell anyone who’ll listen about my experience and hope that others will give acupuncture a try. Though I must say, I’ve seen about 4 different acupuncturists (2 of them for over a year each) and she is by far and away the absolute best. At least, her style works for me.

Anyway, one last thing before I leave on vacation. My sister’s wedding reception up on Hood Canal was awesome. There were darn near 200 people, great food (fresh crab, clams, OYSTERS, all local), snappy conversation, an overflowing bar, dancing and a fireworks display that I’m certain was seen for miles on both sides of the Canal. A motorcycle gang even crashed the party for a short time I’M NOT KIDDING. I mean, how cool is that? I even drunkenly burned my leg on one of their exhaust pipes and you can even see the little scar for all of you who need proof. I mean, how many people can say they were at a wedding reception that a motorcycle gang crashed, huh? I lost count after, oh, let’s say 11 drinks, but hey, the party started at 2pm and we snuck out early at 12am… Oddly, I don’t feel too hungover. I was actually hoping I’d feel a bit more tired so I’d crash out on the night flight. Oh well. I can sleep when I’m dead I guess… Her in-laws are laid back and generous and it made for a very special event. Plus, I gave a toast that brought the house down. SCORE!

I doubt I’ll blog at all while we’re on vakay. I want to see how I feel without touching a keyboard for a week. I want to see if my mind will free itself from the shackles of it’s unhealthy obsessions long enough to figure out what I want to do in this next phase of my life. A lofty goal, but hell, why not? I’ve got to start somewhere and gosh, I really do believe there’s something to that affirmation business. So I’ll leave you with my most favorite affirmation, one I’ve used for years and has served me well:

Fake it till you make it.

Later.