Damn it...
Dixie Carter (as Julia Sugarbaker) just made me cry again.
It's not unheard of for this show, Designing Women, to make me do that, but this time... man.
She got me good.
A sub-plot was about Julia singing "How Great Thou Art" and being scared she'd flub the high note at the end, which, of course, she does not. And, it's that song... hearing that song and even trying to write about it now... that just rips my heart out and shows it to me. It reminds me sooo much of my Pop-pop. After he died, years after he died, I was cleaning out the house he died in (after Mom-mom had to be moved into a nursing home) and I found an old reel-to-reel tape.
When I was finally able to hear it, it nearly killed me because it was Pop-pop singing that song a capella. He may not have had the range or operatic voice of Julia, but it was powerful and sweet and it was him.
And, now... I can't hear that song without dissolving into a puddle of tears and missing him so intensely that it may as well have been yesterday that I lost him. Makes me miss my Dad and all the time I've lost with him all over again, too. *a snort of laughter through the tears*
Isn't it just insane that a hymn makes me wanna die?
God... Only me, huh? Well, I've said it more'n once in my twisted version of a "life"... God has got one bentheaded sense of humor.... *12 seconds later*
Oh yeah... that's just what the fuck I need now... that goddamned stupid commercial with that bitch whining that "I hope you never lose your sense of wonder" country western SHIT SONG.
I don't know who that is, nor do I care, but I do hope she contracts a severe and PERMANANT case of laryngitis and I don't know what the hell product the damned commercial is for because I refuse to listen to OR watch it, but, I hope whatever it is I don't use it and never will because of the fer-shit way it's advertised. Even more than I hate rap being crammed down my throat by the seemingly deaf "motorists" who seem to favor it, I hate having country slipped in on me, especially when it's purely to evoke strong emotions or "get to you". Don't fuckin' play with me like that. If you have some shit to sell, sell it and leave my bruised up, fucked over and more than halfway broken heart out of it, damn you advertisers. And, it's not that I hate all country.
Just... most of it, I guess. I mean, I love George Jones, Larry Gatlin, Charlie Rich and even Dwight "Chromedome who's too good to speak to his fans" Yoakam. But, to the core of my being, I fuckin' HATE being manipulated. Jesus, man... I happened to stumble across the Judd's movie the other night, "Love Can Build a Bridge" (and I even have Naomi's book) and even those two bitches made me cry, doing that song "Grandpa (Tell me 'Bout the Good Old Days").
I choked-sang it right along with 'em, just like I always do.
Most times, if a song starts making me think of death as a sweet release from the intense pain that is life, I turn it the hell OFF.
But, I can't do that with that one.
It's too much like turning my back on a visit from Pop-pop.
So, I'm trapped.
Can't stand it, can't bear to make it stop.
I just have to sit or stand there and let it have it's way with me. I hate that. I don't want to feel that raw, painful shit anymore.
I've lived enough of my life feeling nothing but that.
I've smoked enough pot in my life trying to MUTE that.
And, it's worked, for the most part. At least I haven't followed all the way through with killing myself.
Yet.
*rolls eyes* Thank GOD for Def Leppard, which I think I shall now go find and shove into that CD player/Walkman and BLAST AT TOP VOLUME to nuke-strike this maudlin BULLSHIT outta my head before it fucks up my whole day. Be right back... Well, that was quick.
The CD player was in the drawer right next to me and the Def Lep CD was already in it, so.... ahhhhh. I'll pour sugar on anything ya want, guys.
Y'all, the floor, my car, my cats... I'll coat the entire WORLD with sugar like a goddamned doughnut.
God knows I owe it to ya's for SAVING ME!!!!
(Sorry to yell, but this is LOUD. I can feel my whole head vibrating.) Pardon me for about 3 minutes whilst I close my eyes, pump my fists and rock OUT to this...
Be right back again.... Gim'me another few.
I've gotta "do" Photograph, too...
("Do", meaning do that head-banger, yank-yer-head-back-and-forth shit...) *I've now got head-to-toe goosebumps goin' on* *and, my ears are ringing* *but, I do feel EVER so much better* "All I've got is a photograph.
I wanna touch you..." *lookin' at Pop-pop and Rob while I write that and NOT CRYING. See how awesome this band is?* *coupla minutes later* *big 'ol deep breath* Man.
I now have the headphones around my neck and I can still hear it very much loudly, thank you.
And, for the record, there might be, probably IS, a small but significant difference between the way these guys mean that "I wanna touch you" part and the way I'm sayin' it about Rob and Pop-pop. Rob and Pop-pop, I want to hug, to bury my face in their chests and just feel them hug me while I breathe in their very essences and hear their hearts beat. Def Lep... yeah. I think they're wantin' to get "jiggy widdit". They ain't wantin' to touch the same places I am. Not that there's necessarily anything wrong with that, it's just that, with Pop-pop that'd be very much twisted and Rob... I've always loved him more than that. Do I wanna get rocked?
OH HELL YEAH!!!! "Love Bites" just finished and now it's "Let's Get Rocked".
Be right back again... This most definitely requires the headphones to be put back on my head.... *coupla minutes later* Uh-oh.
Here comes my "Rob" Def Lep song...
It's ok, if you need to
Well, you can run, but you can never hide
From the shadow that's creeping up beside you
And, there's a magic running through your soul
But you can't have it all Whatever you do I'll be two steps behind you
Wherever you go and I'll be there to remind you
That it only takes a minute of your precious time
To turn around and I'll be two steps behind Take the time to think about it
Walk the line, you know you just can't fight it
Take a look around and see what you can find
Like the fire that's burning up inside me
And there's a magic running through your soul
But you can't have it all Whatever you do I'll be two steps behind you
Wherever you go and I'll be there to remind you
That it only takes a minute of your precious time
To turn around and I'll be two steps behind And there's a magic running through your soul
But you, you can't have it all Whatever you do I'll be two steps behind you
Wherever you go and I'll be there to remind you
That it only takes a minute of your precious time
To turn around and I'll be two steps behind Yeah baby, two steps behind
Oh sugar, two steps behind
That helped.
*another few deep breaths* Rick Allen's drumming on this is the best got-damned drumming I've ever been moved by.
Even better than that drum solo in the middle of "Radar Love". And, I loooove the drum solo in the middle of "Radar Love", lem'me tell ya. Okay.
Eric blew through here a while ago, enroute to "out there to work" and now George is down here and I'm not freakin' or leakin' about the face right this second, sooooo.... I think I'm gonna go find something to do. Hmmm.... I do need to go to the Giant at some point and that is a "take-Def-Lep-in-the-Walkman-so-I-don't-hafta-be-subjected-to-that
crap-they-call-"music"-in-there" kinda thing...
And, if I were to look closely enough around here, I'm sure I can find something that needs to be cleaned. Or, maybe I'll just go back to bed and try this whole "waking up" thing again.
And, NOT watch "Designing Women" this time, lest it be Julia doing this shit to me all over again. Women.
Friggin' drive me NUTS. Peace
or Def Leppard
whichever it is ya need.
Comments
1
One of the crazy, tragic, sweet mysteries of music is its ability to tear your heart out and bring up deeply buried long ago memories and feelings one second, and then sooth and bring peace the next...I guess the secret is finding a balance somewhere in between, for even the songs that bring sadness usually have some small bit of sweet memory along with the bitter...its hard to share friendship and sooth another's pain through the crazy world of Blogdom...kinda like talking to a friend deep in a foggy woods, where no-one can see anyone else, but voices (and feelings) are heard and felt...or maybe like people living along a ridgeline, each in their cabins where they can shout encouragement and see each others lights across "the hollers"...if you look out into the dark night, you'll see lots of lights along the ridge, all friendly neighbors ready to call out words of friendship and support....hugs and good wishes from one of the lights along the ridge, and hopes that the music that brings you peace and strength is always louder and longer than the sorrowful tunes...
Posted by: vizsladog3 at November 07, 2006 02:58 PM (4qWsH)
2
...its hard to share friendship and sooth another's pain through the crazy world of Blogdom...
You make it easier than it seems it could be, Viz.
And, your mountain-themed description of the process is flat out BEAUTIFUL.
Rob would have loved that, as do I.
His "notes in a bottle, flung into the ocean" was sweet, but yours... Yours puts to words that which has always lived in my heart and the life I've always wanted.
To be shown that I do have that life... wow.
Thank you, Darlin'.
You make it easier than it seems it could be, Viz.
And, your mountain-themed description of the process is flat out BEAUTIFUL.
Rob would have loved that, as do I.
His "notes in a bottle, flung into the ocean" was sweet, but yours... Yours puts to words that which has always lived in my heart and the life I've always wanted.
To be shown that I do have that life... wow.
Thank you, Darlin'.
Posted by: Stevie at November 08, 2006 07:02 AM (phFqS)
3
Stevie, the problem with modern "country" music is that it's not country music--it's just pop music with a different name. Which is to say it's horrible, soulless slush. You need to get some old Hank Williams (senior) to listen to.
I would also suggest listening to some good Cajun or zydeco music--it's the happiest sounding sad music you'll ever hear!
And seriously (typed by someone who has been there)--you seem VERY depressed, and should go to see someone (a therapist type) who can help you.
I would also suggest listening to some good Cajun or zydeco music--it's the happiest sounding sad music you'll ever hear!
And seriously (typed by someone who has been there)--you seem VERY depressed, and should go to see someone (a therapist type) who can help you.
Posted by: Garry K at November 08, 2006 04:35 PM (/RG7F)
4
Geez, Gar... I thought I was gettin' better, here.
*grin*
Hell, Hon... if you think I'm bad now you should take a peek at some of my archives.
And, really, after the idiotic, chaotic and insane life I've survived so far, coupled with the fact that it hasn't even been six months yet since Rob died, the fact that I'm not on on top of a tall building with an automatic firearm is just short of a miracle.
And, the only two "therapist" types I've ever even heard of who weren't more f'ed up than their patients, and that I'd trust, were Dr. Bob Hartley and Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist.
I tried that route once and when the woman told me that she wanted me to stare at myself in a mirror for hours and write what I see, I knew it was a crock and decided "never again".
Then, there's the whole "sliding scale of billing" bullshit they all like to tout as a way to sucker you in.
In my experience, all that those people REALLY care about is money.
They'll tell ya one thing, then try slammin' yer ass with a huge bill, which I have no insurance to cover and cannot afford on my own.
Screw that, ya know?
Besides, that's what Xfire is for.
This way, I don't need an appointment, or a Denver "ment" (mint) to pay for it, plus I don't even hafta wear clothes if I don't want to, which not doing in a doctor's office is frowned upon, I believe.
If I haven't offed myself or anybody else by now, I doubt I will.
(And, Fate? That last statement is NOT an open invitation to you to send some fucktard my way to "test me", okay?)
*grin*
Hell, Hon... if you think I'm bad now you should take a peek at some of my archives.
And, really, after the idiotic, chaotic and insane life I've survived so far, coupled with the fact that it hasn't even been six months yet since Rob died, the fact that I'm not on on top of a tall building with an automatic firearm is just short of a miracle.
And, the only two "therapist" types I've ever even heard of who weren't more f'ed up than their patients, and that I'd trust, were Dr. Bob Hartley and Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist.
I tried that route once and when the woman told me that she wanted me to stare at myself in a mirror for hours and write what I see, I knew it was a crock and decided "never again".
Then, there's the whole "sliding scale of billing" bullshit they all like to tout as a way to sucker you in.
In my experience, all that those people REALLY care about is money.
They'll tell ya one thing, then try slammin' yer ass with a huge bill, which I have no insurance to cover and cannot afford on my own.
Screw that, ya know?
Besides, that's what Xfire is for.
This way, I don't need an appointment, or a Denver "ment" (mint) to pay for it, plus I don't even hafta wear clothes if I don't want to, which not doing in a doctor's office is frowned upon, I believe.
If I haven't offed myself or anybody else by now, I doubt I will.
(And, Fate? That last statement is NOT an open invitation to you to send some fucktard my way to "test me", okay?)
Posted by: Stevie at November 09, 2006 04:35 PM (bdv4Y)
5
I have a history with depressions, especially caused by grief from failed relationships. Most shrinks I know just want to put my on drugs. I was on Welbutrin a couple of years ago and I thought it was gonna kill me. My resting heart rate was over 100 (when it should have been 72 or lower!), and I felt like my adrenaline and testosterone were running 100 miles per hour.
I'm actually hoping I can talk Dr. Sanity (aka the real life Dr. Pat Santy) into taking me on as a patient. She's right here along with me in the People's Republic of Ann Arbor, MI, and since I like her writing style on her blog, I'm sure she could really help me without drugs.
But anyway, reading your blog after Acidman died (I loved reading his blog, and agreed with him about 90% on everything), it seemed you were really suffering with some serious grief. You too have an entertaining blog, and I'd hate to lose having your blog to read! So hang in there.
I'm actually hoping I can talk Dr. Sanity (aka the real life Dr. Pat Santy) into taking me on as a patient. She's right here along with me in the People's Republic of Ann Arbor, MI, and since I like her writing style on her blog, I'm sure she could really help me without drugs.
But anyway, reading your blog after Acidman died (I loved reading his blog, and agreed with him about 90% on everything), it seemed you were really suffering with some serious grief. You too have an entertaining blog, and I'd hate to lose having your blog to read! So hang in there.
Posted by: Garry K at November 10, 2006 05:43 PM (/RG7F)
6
Oh, yeah, my absolute favorite song to listen to after some gal dumps me is "You Keep Me Hangin' On" by the Vanilla Fudge. They do that song justice, unlike the "la la" treatment given it by The Supremes. The singer in Vanilla Fudge sings with real pain in his voice on that song. What I do is blast it out on the stereo and play along with my accordion for about an hour when the mood hits me. After that I feel better. :-)
Posted by: Garry K at November 10, 2006 05:46 PM (/RG7F)
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