With a commercial like the opening of Austin Powers.
As this product is made in England.
We make our product in Oak Creek, Wisconsin.
Similar, only we make our English passengers drive while we rest on the other side of the car.
Oh what a cruel trick to play on me so late in the evening.
Seriously, I feel like this is the universe’s way of saying “Ha. Ha. F you Carol Kroll”
(BTW: this is how the road to the quiet hospital gets paved. Yep, I’m pretty sure this is how it starts. With an imaginary conspiracy theory about lip gloss and a rock band nobody has ever heard of….)
I wish my quote section on my site could house this, but for now I will just put it here. It helps. It really does. And makes so much sense too. If you let it.
Enjoy.
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of the Higher Power. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of the Higher Power that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
I need to discuss my first form of freedom located here:
I know. How can a bike be freedom? Oh but it is. Check out my sweet basket!
I now can go up to our local “market” (aka as the glorified Shell station with groceries) and pop them in my basket and viola! This excites me to no end. I have wanted a basket FOREVER. And now I have one. Too bad LuLu is a 65LB black lab and can’t fit in there like Toto.
I felt so incredibly European when I rode home from the bike shop this morning after they repaired my back tire, with my bag slung over my shoulder and the sun beaming down on me like a beacon.
I also need to point out that I break several rules when I ride my bike.
Please keep in mind that I live literally in the middle of nowhere and ride during the morning when everyone is at work already. That being said, I usually don’t wear my helmet AND I listen to my ipod (if I perish exercising, that will truly be the most ironic statement ever mind you)
It is just that the motion plus the music makes me feel truly alive. And free. Kind of like when I am playing rockstar on a stage, as a matter of fact.
Hm.
That just dawned on me.
Very interesting.
It’s pure euphoria. Riding my bike with music and rocking out onstage which involves (albeit lame) movement on my part and music. Can I have that in a bottle please? No. The drug companies and street pushers haven’t picked up on this quite yet. I will have to settle on my bike and pipedreams.
Speaking of that, this afternoon after a long grueling trip to the grocery store crammed with the most oblivious people on the planet and one way-beyond-irritable spouse, instead of slipping into some sort of downward domestic spiral that may have required alcohol, I instead pretended the beginning of this afternoon didn’t happen (denial is an incredibly underestimated river in Egypt I am discovering) and laid down some vocals for Sweet Jelly, our drummer Anthony sent me several days ago.
Anthony has been working very hard behind the scenes with our recording process, and I wanted to devote my full attention to laying down the best vocals I possibly could. Polishing up Here We Go, is what we are working on right now.
The internet is, and always has been, a wondrous and glorious thing for Sweet Jelly. Living 2 hours away from my bandmates, I feel this set-up is going to work out really good for us (finally).
However as I was losing myself and repairing the damage that was done at the grocery store earlier, the outside world was making this euphoric musical journey a challenging one this afternoon. What seemed like every 15 minutes, someone would ring our doorbell and hand out election flyers (3 times this happened). I am fine with the flyers, but why do I have to come to the door and receive them? And since ALL of our windows and doors were open, how do I even try to explain what it is I am doing? Singing at the top of my lungs while all the music action is taking place inside my headphones? They really must have wondered when they waltzed up our walk. So in context, unfortunately, this is the face our uninvited guests got every time I opened the door.
“Hi, can I help you? No really, how can I help you? Oh good, more paper. Election? No I haven’t heard. President. You DON’T SAY.“
Here is me realizing there is someone (again) at the door mid-verse.
…right before interrupting this…
…and this…
…and this…
Oh and my neighbors were trying to have a cookout behind us today, but I am afraid I may have ruined that too as, once again, our windows are all open and when I sing, well, I’m not exactly quiet. Sorry neighborhood. Oh hell, what do I care. They all know I’m in a band and look at me all cock-eyed when they ask about it while I cut the grass, make my garbage pilgrimage to the curb every Wednesday night or get my mail. Might as well humor them with loud vocals sans instruments on a quiet sunny September Sunday afternoon.
…if you are having a nervous breakdown? When you don’t ask anymore? So I am safe? Well, maybe not out of the woods yet, but I have this odd little plan that just popped into my head at 12:30AM, on a now, Saturday morning that I thought I would share with the world wide web.
See in high school, I was a hermit. A nerdy little awkward honor roll good little girl hermit. Sure I had an equally nerdy awkward boyfriend of 4 years (starting in 8th grade, sorry Mom, I lied we WERE dating, but she found that out the yucky way when I was in surgery at 15 and found some (very) dirty poems he had written me in my purse I left with her, meaning, 14yrs old = DUMBASS) but then he ended up banging someone on his trip to Germany in my Junior year, but that is ok because I was being vigorously pursued by the (hotter than hot) boy named Scott, eventually ended up falling HOPELESSLY “in love with” (I really did, sadly) that we all know later broke my heart into ten thousand pieces so at the time, didn’t really care who Eric banged in Germany to be quite truthful….oh but you should have been there for that particular conversation (after he casually mentioned it to me as we were looking at his trip pix’s)….
“Hey, who is this ?”
“That’s Megan. We sort of had sex while I was over there.”
(crickets)
“Uh-huh-wait……..um, pardon, you did what?”
(pointing to the picture I was holding of some chick with piercings and a tattoo that obviously looked a little more “worldly” than I was)
“Yeah, I banged her, Carol (same breath) but I brought you home some soap that they use there which is called Carol Soap. Here…..”
(I even think I said thank you as he plopped it in my hand)
I wish you all had been there really. It was quite entertaining when I think of it now. Too bad there isn’t video. I would like to see it, actually.
Ah but these are (true) stories for other times.
ANYWAY
Before I discovered “boys” (and I will use the term “discovered” in loose terms) I was a hermit nerdy girl with depression/anxiety attacks that spent A LOT of time alone in my room after I got home from school, listening to my music in headphoneland (complete solace and bliss mind you) singing and acting out all songs that graced my ears while making my animated films (yes, Morgyn, they are on VHS, but I will have to look for them, I know you asked) I made a film every year starting in 6th grade until 12th grade on my little super 8 camera and hand painted cels. THOUSANDS upon THOUSANDS upon THOUSANDS of drawings and plastic cels that were all painted on. I spent a year on each little film. And they all had soundtracks coordinated to them. It was quite the production.
All I know is that ANYTHING was possible in that room of mine. It was a magical place. I was gonna make it big, I was sure of it.
Although please note that the last film I made Junior/Senior year, I was distracted by my above romance drama and didn’t make the film I always envisioned which has always bugged me. Lost time I will never be able to get back and really, knowing what I know now, I SHOULD have stayed in my room making my stuff and listening to bad 80’s music.
Which by the way is the reason for this post.
So my plan is this. Since I was REALLY artistically productive during that time (roughly 1983-1989; quite the manic time) I have started importing all my shitty 80’s music and listening to it. And you know what? It ACTUALLY is making this process tonight, a LOT easier! I am chugging along here without the negative bastards pounding at the door of my mind. Wait. Gotta check again. Nope! They aren’t there! Did I find their secret out? That they HATE 80’s music? Is that all it took? A swift kick of Opposites Attract and Cold Hearted Snake to keep them at bay? We’ll see. This is just an experiment and may be short lived, and I may be blogging soon from the quiet hospital.
What are the tasty skeleton treats I have unlocked from my closet? I have no shame, here they are…
Early Madonna mainly La Isla Bonita (I had the 45, yes, the vinyl 45!) Cherish, Material Girl (I loved her vintage dress and the dance prodcution, I confess) and Into The Groove OH ANDLET’S NOTFORGET the ultimate teenage romance song, True Blue. Yep, this was me in my room. I was quite the star of my own imagination. And frankly, I rocked.
Roxette, yes, that’s right, fricking Roxette. Got a problem with that? Too bad. Dressed for Success is taking me back to my happy place and there is nothing you can do about it.
Neneh Cherry! Buffalo Stance. I know this by heart. Even still which may in fact = sad.
Oh, and Debarge’s Who’s Johnny. Seriously. How can you NOT like this song? You have no soul if you do. I said the song, not the video mind you. The video sucks large amounts of poop.
The Thriller album should be coming up next because I was thrown into that by no fault of my own. I was just the right age at the right time. And he was dreamy. And had a llama. Where was this video for me to see in the 80’s??? I still want a llama. Keep the creepy monkey though. I don’t really like monkeys. (sorry Mo)
Oh if only we could have the righteous vintage MJ back with his voice and wicked dance moves.
So, remember that movie, In the Realms of the Unreal Morgyn told you to watch a few years ago (which you did and loved it) about the recluse janitor in Chicago, Henry Darger, who wrote and illustrated well, here, just read this…
Henry Joseph Darger was a reclusive American writer and artist who worked as a janitor in Chicago, Illinois. He has become famous for his posthumously discovered 15,145-page, single-spaced fantasy manuscript called The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What is known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinnian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion, along with several hundred drawings and watercolor paintings illustrating the story. Darger’s work has become one of the most celebrated examples of outsider art.
This guy diligently spent pretty much his whole life writing his books along with hundreds of watercolor paintings because obviously: he had to.
In 1968, Darger became interested in tracing some of his frustrations back to his childhood. It was in this year that he wrote The History of My Life, a book that spends 206 pages detailing his early life before veering off into 4,672 pages of fiction about a huge twister called “Sweetie Pie,” probably based on memories of the tornado he had witnessed in 1908. He also kept a diary to chronicle the weather and his daily activities.
4,672 pages about a tornado!
He was just an ordinary guy who, against lots of odds, made his art and wrote his stories, with from what I remember, no formal training whatsoever.
And let’s please re-read the awesome blog entry your friend Tiffany sent your way the other day from finslippy.com.
And the little movie that was attached to the blog entry that lots of folks should watch. It really is enlightening how he analyzes his own work at the end of the clip. And his honesty in the whole thing is really very reassuring in (mind you) a bummer sort of way, but hey, that’s truth if you dare to accept it.
Now.
So.
Really, there is no reason for you to stop making your items. Or feel as if you should stop working on them. In fact, it is clear you need to make MORE. Not less. In mass quantities. And at alarming rates.
The clan upstairs would have you believe otherwise, but we all know they are impostors that are jealous. Admittedly they showed up unannounced, uninvited today, and didn’t even bring snacks or drinks with them, all the while bossing you around and telling you, you are no good. They have shitty taste in art, music, food and drink (let me remind you again, none of which they brought with them) – so kick them out.
