I Just Said "No"

The only thing I fear more than death-by-loneliness is being stabbed to death in my sleep by a deranged girlfriend...no, that's not true. I'd rather be murdered in my sleep than endure a lifetime of bad relationships, so at the moment I am alone. That's a choice. I've actually had several overtures recently but I walked away from them all for reasons ranging from prejudice to self-preservation.

It's amazing how much you can learn about sex by not having it- the absence of humpage seems to encourage thought and reason.
Maybe I'm smarter now.
Or maybe I'm just picky.
Or scared.
Or all of the above.

In any case, I wound up giving my version of The Speech ( Let's Just Be Friends) again lately and it's starting to bother me; I am accustomed to being on the receiving end of The Speech, not to giving it- and after giving it, I realize that no matter how well-intentioned, The Speech has a tendency to be a bit disingenuous. Especially the part about remaining friends.

I have a friend here who drinks. Heavily.
Last winter, she reached out to me for help with the drinking. I can't do anything, I said, that is up to you. All I can do is listen and I will- call me anytime but don't call me if you are drunk.

She didn't call for months.

Then we bumped into each other a while back and started talking , she seemed sincere about quitting, she wanted to talk more, in private.

OK. I am cool with that.

So she invited me to dinner and when I arrived, she stank of vodka. Alcoholics like to think vodka is odorless and hence undetectable, but that is a fallacious assumption. Vodka has a strong odor and anything that's 80 proof will noticeably impair you and this woman was impaired. Wobbly drunk.

I got angry. Usually, it doesn't bother me very much to be around people who are drinking, but this was different- we were supposed to be talking about sobriety, a useless conversation to have with a drunk.

Look. I like you but I can't be around you like this.

Don't you think I'm attractive?

I should have said "no, not at the moment", but I was too nice. She is very pretty and I told her that - the next thing I knew she had slipped her distillery tongue into my mouth.

Aughh!

I swear, I could feel a 'contact drunk' from that stolen kiss. I wanted her (or at least my body did) but I knew what would happen if we slept together- I would convince myself that I was in love with her (I'm not) and try to 'rescue' her, which would fail and lead me back into drinking just so I could be with her.

I know this because I've been through it before.

To repeat my mistakes would be insane, so I did the next craziest thing, which was actually
the only sane option- I gave her The Speech.

Dickless asshole!

It didn't go over well.

Rule #1 : Don't date drunks.

Sub-Rule #1a: Don't date drunks who call you "dickless asshole."

Anyway, I must be putting out major pheromones, because a few days later I was getting a ride home from a woman I don't know very well and she asked me if I wanted to go back to her place and get high- sure, I said, why not?

I know her husband, so I assumed he'd be home and that this was just a social visit- I really should have known better. As soon as we sparked the first joint, she started talking to me about her impending divorce...man, I shoulda seen that coming. I've been there before too.

Most guys would probably have just fucked her and vamoosed, but I am not wired like that. I know what would happen- I'd wind up convincing myself that I was in love and it would end in humiliation and tears when I found out the feeling wasn't reciprocal.

Stupid, but I can't help it. It's how I am. I have an extremely naive and idealized notion of romance- it's as if my emotions stopped growing when I started my drinking career in high school and have only resumed progress now, twenty-odd years later.
I don't know where I get my ideas from- I certainly didn't grow up around well-adjusted relationships- I think my ideals are the merely the reverse of what I saw as a kid.
In my perfect world Daddy comes home at night and Mommy doesn't play with guns.
That's pretty much as far as I get with the details of my expectations.
Useless. Dreamer.
I wonder how many hopeless romantics come from broken homes?
Anyway.

So again with The Speech.

Don't you think I'm attractive?

Yes, yes I do...but I like you too much for this...which was a lie, because I don't know her very well at all. This lie made me feel bad, so I compounded the harm with honesty.

Look, I've been through this before and I'm just not emotionally suited to having affairs. I'll get hurt. You'll get hurt. Stop.

Man, I should have stuck with my lie. To her, I think it sounded like I was confessing to bedding every married woman in Virginia except her, because I somehow found her less attractive than all the other women- which wasn't true at all...I buried myself in a deep verbal hole and handed her the shovel. Instead of a spadeful of soil, she tossed this poisoned rose into my freshly-dug grave:

My husband won't touch me anymore.

Try walking home alone late at night with those words echoing in your head.
On second thought, don't.
It sucks. Take my word for it.

Rule #2: Don't sleep with married women.

Rule #3: Don't be a plot device in someone else's revenge drama.

The third rejection slip was the easiest one. It's much simpler to reject someone if you aren't interested in the first place -a gay acquaintance made an awkwardly polite move on me...dude, that's flattering and all, but I'm not gay. I didn't have to give The Speech at all, I just said "no , thanks."

When I was in my late teens I spent two or three days lost in a New Orleans dungeon.

It was during Mardi Gras and I don't remember how I got in or how I got out , but it did dispel any lingering adolescent doubts I had about my sexual orientation. It's a one-way street.
If a three-day absinthe and cocaine binge in a French Quarter dungeon doesn't bring out any hidden peccadilloes, nothing will.

Still, I thought it was kinda flattering to get hit on- most of the gay guys I know are very particular about appearance, clothes and general hygiene, so being hit on by one must indicate that I'm reasonably attractive, well-dressed and unfunky. That was rarely the case when I was drunk, so I guess I'm making progress.

Progress.

Did I tell you about this girl that I really like?

No?

Good.

Insomnia: A User's Guide Pt. 374

Ever had trouble sleeping and have someone suggest that you "count sheep?"
Bah.
Sleep is for the weak and counting sheep is for pussies.
I'm a bad-ass motherfucker, I don't need sleep and I sure as hell am not gonna waste my precious insomnia on being a virtual shepherd.
I like to lie awake all night and torture myself by making lists of things I can't change.
OK, that's not exactly true- I don't enjoy making the lists, but I do it anyway.

Here's a sampling from some of my fave self-torment lists:

THE LOVERS:
I'm not now and have never been promiscuous , so if I think about it long enough, I can actually name almost every woman I have ever slept with. But just counting them isn't enough, there aren't that many and it doesn't take long to merely list them. To really deprive myself of sleep, I need details.
So when the insomnia hits, I start sorting them by alphabetical order, last name (if known) first.
Then by chronology. And so on:
-Hair color.
-Astrological sign.
-Where we met.
-What music was playing?
-Drug of choice.
-Favorite position.
If we were 'dating', I replay the details of the break-up and try to figure out what it was that I did wrong. This leads to my next list- Faults, real or imagined:

THE FAULTS:
- HAIR: I started losing my hair when I was 18 but didn't admit it until I was 30 and I started shaving my head in a show of solidarity with my mom, who was undergoing chemo at the time.
If I had started shaving my head when I was 18, it would probably take me a lot longer than it does to count all my ex-lovers. For years, I had long hair and a bald spot, which is probably the least attractive hair-do a man can sport, short of wearing a toupee.
Once, a hippie GF convinced me to try wearing a ponytail.
I was dumb enough to agree.
I had a ponytail and a bald spot at 25 years old.
I may never outlive that shame.

- ROCKIN':
I used to be convinced that I would make a living playing music. Either that, or I would be dead before I turned 40. For 15 years, all my extra energy went into making music. I have at least six hours worth of my own material recorded- I could have written a novel, graduated college or invented a time machine with all of the energy I wasted on Rockin'.
Rockin' has ruined my love life more than once.
One of my girlfriends used to cheat on me when I had gigs- when I was on stage, she knew I wasn't gonna catch her at home...years later, I was trying to impress another woman with my musical awesomeness, so I sent her a CD. She called me and told me that my songs were indicative of serious mental illness and maybe it would be better if we didn't see each other.
That bothered me.

-GETTING WASTED:
I had a PermaBuzz from 1983 to 2005. From Absinthe to Xanax, I have done it all at least once. For a long time, this was fun, but it's really a difficult lifestyle to maintain and it tends to drive away sane people. I once boasted, truthfully, that I could snort an entire eight-ball in two giant lines. That ability didn't exactly attract the best sort of person, my personal possessions had a habit of vanishing when certain 'friends' visited.
And it leads to my new favorite list...


YET ANOTHER BRUSH WITH DEATH:

- DEATH BY AUTO:
Years ago, a man ran a stop sign and I broadsided his new Lexus with my old Honda at 55 mph, totalling both cars. We both emerged unscathed...I was so surprised to be unhurt that I didn't even get mad at the guy, in fact, we sorta bonded on the roadside, looking at the wrecked cars and waiting for the cops...dude sent me $600 even though I told him I wasn't planning on suing or anything.
A year or so later, I blew a tire and bounced my newer Accord across five lanes of rush-hour traffic. I hit a Ford, totalling it, bounced off a Toyota ( wrecked) and finally stopped pinballing when I hit a guardrail. My Honda had a couple dents and lost a headlight. The police officer said he couldn't imagine how I managed to wreck two cars while barely hurting my own. I drove away without a bruise or a ticket...my 4th of July collision with a deer made me think about that...three serious smash-ups that I've walked away from without a scratch.

-DEATH BY SCORPIO:
I haven't had a lot of girlfriends, but at least half of them have been Scorpios and each one of them has made at least one attempt on my life. Knives, guns, a bass guitar and a Wolf-Shepherd hybrid are some of the weapons employed by Scorpios seeking my demise. On the positive side, a failed murder attempt can lead to some pretty terrific revenge sex. It's the mortality buzz, I guess.

-DEATH BY BOOZE:
This is the one that lingers on my mind the most. When I saw the deer's blood and guts on the side of my car, the first thing I thought of was my own experience with alcohol-
induced internal hemorrhaging and how much of my own blood I have seen. If you drink heavily for a long, long time, your guts will literally dissolve and you will drown in your own blood - that is what happened to me.
I made it to the ER with a few minutes to spare. When I read the recent news story about a woman who bled to death in an L.A. hospital ER, I had a flashback that triggered a serious panic episode, so I know the fear is still with me. The fear keeps me sober.

I'd like to think that all these close calls have made me braver or stronger somehow, but yesterday it caught up to me- all of it- and I was literally paralyzed by thought. I spent the afternoon just sitting and trying not to think about all of the things that I have just spent an hour describing.
It must have worked, because I actually did sleep last night and my dreams weren't at all bad.

I had a good dream.
My dream had an accent, not an accident.
It was full of love and it rocked without fault.

Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition

TONES OF GOSPEL : JUNE 24 ,2007

Irony of ironies- me hosting the Gospel Hour. Our regular host "praises" and talks a lot and usually only plays five or six songs as a result.
I doubt that his listeners would care to hear my thoughts on the subject, so I let the music speak for itself.

Quite a few of the songs on the list are from the soundtrack of The Gospel at Colonus . The Lord in reference is actually the Greek god Apollo, sorta. Donald Fagen (Steely Dan) produced the album and it sounds great. I think it's my new favorite record. Now I wanna see the movie.

PRAISE THE LORD:

Aretha Franklin - Bridge Over Troubled Water
Aretha does Paul.

Sam Butler, Clarence Fountain & Soul Stirrers- Stop Do Not Go On
Colunus.

Mahalia Jackson- His Eye Is On The Sparrow
Have you ever heard her sing? Wow.

J.D. Steele Singers- How Shall I see You Through My Tears?
Ow. I poked my eyes out.

Sam Cooke- This Little Light of Mine
The audience starts shouting Ay- Men, Ay-Men at the end, I turn on the mic and join in. Ay-Man!

Mavis Staples- Wade in the Water
A lot of Christian songs use pagan symbols...water being one. I guess water, even more than music, is our universal language.

Clarence Fountain & The Five Blind Boys- Lift Me Up (Like a Dove)
I suppose air is important too.

Elvis Presley- Amazing Grace
The King is probably the worst singer on this recording. His voice is buried deep in the choir at times. Still, it is what it is.

The Soul Stirrers w/ Willie Rogers- Eternal Sleep
From Colonus

Soweto Gospel Choir- Many Rivers To Cross
This is simply beautiful...really moving- and then it jumps into double-time- it's awesome. I'll be playing this again on my regular show

The Institutional Radio Choir- Lift Him Up
Great name.

Bob Marley- Go Tell It On The Mountain
I can't help it. It's gospel, OK?

The Soul Stirrers - Never Drive You Away (Jubilee)
I'm shouting yeah! yeah! at the end. How can you not?


THE NEW BREAKFAST SNOB: JUNE 24, 2007

This my show. I can play anything I want to.
I wanna play some stuff by sexy, gun-toting mutant art waifs, but I only know of one- Danielle Dax (above).
Who would you want watching your back in a free-for-all bar fight: Dax or Paris Hilton?
Danielle's gotcha covered.

PASS THE AMMUNITION

Sweetwater - Motherless Child
Forever.

Aphrodite's Child- I Want To Live
Maybe not forever, but for a while yet.

Jimi Hendrix - Machine Gun
Dude was dead, they finished the record without him. Still, it is what it is.

Danielle Dax - Jehovah's Precious Stone
Danielle is a HUGE fan of religion.

Loreena McKennitt- The Mystic's Dream
A pagan dreams of the ending world. Life goes on, but for how long?

Chris Spedding- Bored, Bored
Never. This song has cowbell. It needs more.

Lou Reed- Rock and Roll Heart
I knows I ain't smart. But deep down inside, I got a rock and roll heart.

Snakefinger- Bless Me For I Have Sinned/Jesus Gave Me Water
I'm feeling the spirit move me...7-11 coffee is giving me water.

Marianne Faithfull- Guilt
This is for Enemy, who is not an adversary. Of mine, anyway.

...*sigh*....
I love this observation by Marianne: "Every time I see your dick , I see her cunt in my bed".
I can't play that song on the radio. Too bad, it's got a great groove. Broken English is my new all-time favorite old album.

The Clash- Guns Of Brixton
Still my all-time favorite album. I have hundreds of all-time favorites, but this is near the top.

Supertramp- Bloody Well Right
Godzilla help me...this sounds really good today. I got this LP from Columbia House back in the days when you taped a penny to a coupon, mailed it in and got 10 free records. Then you moved away and did it again under another name.
At least I did.

The Who- Put The Money Down
"Before I walk on the water, put the money down."
Again with water and Jesus. Is there no escape?

Savoy Brown- Money Can't Save Your Soul
But it sure would make life easier.

Pretty Things- Sickle Clowns
Parachute was Rolling Stone's Album of the Year back when that still meant something. 1970, it was. (Motor-sickle)

Hot Tuna - True Religion
That's an oxymoron in my opinion, but Jack and Jorma are so good that I forgive them. Papa John Creach adds some mighty fine fiddlin'.

Clannad - Poison Glen
I used to call my cocaine buddy 'Poison' Glen. He died in prison. Let that be a lesson.

10 CC - Rubber Bullets
These guys are fantastic...how did I miss them for so long? This song fits my show perfectly. Even the songwriter's last names , Godley & Creme, work with it. I'm having a radio grin!

Led Zeppelin- Dancing Days
You say it's alright!

Gary Numan- Conversation
You say it's not alright?

Fiona Joyce- Cry Over You
Conversation does that to me.

Alan Parsons Project- To One in Paradise
I believed in my dreams
Nothing can change my mind
Till I found what they mean
Nothing can save me now

Damien Dempsey- The Jar Song
Enough of that pretty crap. If you stereotype Dempsey, his Irish ass is goon lay a shillelagh oopside yoor noogin. That's the way they came.

Fairport Convention- Come All Ye
Jesus Christ and a Globe fulla drunken bards. I feel like I'm in a Revival tent at the frickin' Renaissance Festival.

Bob Dylan- Sarah
Except for some kelp.

Pretty Things- Loneliest Person
One man's kelp is another man's seaweed.

Happy Week's End.

Amen!