This is the second installation of STUFF! the saga of my needing to get rid of my stuff–in a hurry. It started yesterday in my first post called Help Me Help Myself! where I began to beg, well, I don’t know if I was really begging, was I? I think I’m really just informing people of needing to get this stuff out of my life and that there is a lot going on with my life at the moment. I will eventually speak about it, but I don’t want to right now. I also don’t want my issues to motivate anyone in taking my crap off my hands. Take it because you need it. Okay, take it for any reason you need to.
Kvetches
It’s Me Again
And at least I got myself back into the studio this week. I can’t believe it myself. I’m not even sure it counts yet. What that (“counts”) means exactly, I don’t even know! But getting back into a studio that’s really a garage isn’t a simple task. It’s work.
100 Years
I’ve been really stuck on what to write on my blogs lately. Both of them. This is very unusual for me because normally my keyboard gets extremely warm from such overuse. But today I suppose I have a lot on my mind because the date is significant. It is/was my father’s birthday, which starts a cluster of other significant dates from now until the fourth of June.
Roller Coaster, Wow wow
It’s been something like another ten days of continuous rapid cycling. Somehow, this roller coaster manages to fall into the downward direction more often than not, and yet somehow, I am still hopeful? What’s up with that? I don’t know how that works exactly, but it’s how I’ve been cranking along these past couple of days — knock on wood, lightly anyway. And might as well knock to the beat of Love Rollercoaster, the original one by Ohio Players. That is, the track off the album, not the tamed down single. The difference in the lyrics are like night and day.
The Conference Room
I know, this might be getting a little confusing, but I am going to continue some of my thoughts from my blog post that I last wrote on the Shrapnel blog. Isn’t that lovely? I guess having all these different avenues of expressing myself goes along with the whole theme of having all my different “parts” – something I am starting to come to terms with by the way. And I’m starting to see that there are many of my parts that haven’t been given a voice for a very long time either. Does that make sense? Well, it does to me, and does to some people out there in crazy town. It’s easy for me to blame myself for failing to ignore some of my parts. I mean, who else can I blame, right? Still, that’s my knee-jerk reaction. To blame myself for every god damned thing. But now I’m trying to break the cycle of that whole lame-blame-shame-spiral. I’m trying to do this by calling up my other parts to come help me.




