sickle, suture, scalpel I was trying to think of every word that began with “S” when the dentist began hammering my mouth. It hurt.
I was no longer sure that my commitment to make a better me from the inside out was a good commitment, Or it was one that would both hurt me and begin me on the route to destitution. For at least two days after each two hour dentist appointment all I seem to be capable of doing is blogging and walking. Lost a great rant for Bring it on!
Really really need to focus on things that can make me money; not things that bring great intrinsic pleasure but no money. I would like to ensure my future so that I’m not the bag lady with the great teeth.
At this moment I’m either exhausted or not motivated. I truly hope it’s the former as my motivation is my greatest asset.
When I began the implant process I knew that it would be long and tedious. I didn’t know what tedious was then; I didn’t know what patience meant. I know now.
Mine has been the best case scenario; everything went better than expected. That does make me feel good. But it’s so long, tiresome and sometimes I just want to take a break from life after an appointment.
Yesterday I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered who the stranger was; I looked like I might look in 20 years, if I’m not careful.
The painkiller didn’t seem to work yesterday; hadn’t taken the whole prescription after the oral surgery. But this pain was different; it was in my sinuses and hurt both as a sinus thing and a nerve tooth ending. It was the most painful after appointment yet.
My face is slightly swollen for the first time throughout the process; I feel spent and just might spend tomorrow reading and doing absolutely nothing of consequence.
Yet I need to write even more than usual. And I’m so not into refining my work or writing about anything that I don’t feel like writing at that moment. Yes, blogging can be an ego gratifying experience. No word count; no editor.
Yet there’s always the fear that I’m exposing too much or somehow being over exposed by writing for two blogs, and being picked up by others.
To end this thought process I found myself at Tower. I know, the last thing I need is more songs to download into my Ipod but I love to listen to music while I write. Ipod at Starbucks; Bose stereo at home.
My newest favorite group has been around forever. The Subdudes usually make my fingers fly when I’m typing. But “Behind the Levee” is pure brilliance. It’s funk, ballads, Steiler and Lieber/Coaster type music. Its produced by Keb Mo and more Nevilles than Subdudes.
I saw the Neville Brothers at jazz fest in 94. We were maybe ten feet behind them and I slow danced with my friend Noel. Noel’s gay, we had known each for fifteen years and there was absolutely no sexual attraction between us. The men I like are usually tall, skinny and Byronic looking which normally let Aaron out; but that more than perfect voice coming out of that body; damn, it’s something.
Though my local alt rock station has been plugging the new Subdudes for weeks, I had no idea how brilliant it would be. Yet when I look for lyrics to put in, they seem almost ordinary. Think that’s part of the brilliance. Also bought: Dion Bronx in blue, which of course can be found in the new blues section for rock & roll stars of yesteryear–did mean “rock & roll,” not “rock,” which began when I was thirteen or so. Had to stop myself from buying Tom Waits “Compilation,” since I have every song and can put them onto my Ipod.
Did buy Roseanne Cash’s “Black Cadillac.” She lost all three of her parents in a two year period. Can’t imagine being Johnny Cash’s daughter but can relate to this CD about grief in all its ugly and better stages. Here she reminds me of Jane Oliver, Debby Harry, Annie Lennox, Marianne Faithful and a few other great woman singers, yet like each of them is unique so is she.
Roseanne Cash exposes herself in “Black Cadillac,” and a great songwriter with a voice that fills up the room shows that it’s necessary to risk to really achieve both professionally, and in that adult orphan way, that most of my friends don’t know yet, way.
Doug, I was going to get you, for the very funny satire, with something really clever but such is the power of Rosanne Cash’s lyrics and voice that I forgot the line. Wish I could say that she made me forgive you; it would be that more dramatic and fodder for Oprah, but I was never angry at you, so uh….
Saw James Frey’s next memoir in the fiction section of B&N today.
Cause I want to live inside the world
I want to act like a real girl
I want to know I’m not alone
and that dreams are not my
dreams are not my
dreams are not my home
If you made it through Tuesday 1/24, you can make it through any day. It’s supposed to be the most depressing day of the year; no more holiday, excuses, life is serious, where am I going?, taxes and general financial health, relationship reality….this can be depressing and I can’t believe that I’m turning into a person who will honestly say:
“Isn’t that nice? Now things will begin to get better.”
Lesson learned from 9/11, yes losing my mother the next month without warning, getting implants, and having nobody but me to turn to when making big big decisions. But I’m blessed in friends, and they never let me go through a dark patch alone.