Raised On The Radio (& Heavy Metal magazine)

Bravely yielding my six-string axe through a fiery inferno of hot rock and barely clad large breasted Amazonian women. All of whom are fighting amongst themselves, in a sweaty, hot, fornication-promising heap, over who will be the victor in having the honor of straddling my leg, as the nerd painter – decked in floods and flannel and dreams – creates my muscle-ripped mountain-top-commandeering portrait, replete with crotch-covering lion’s fur and a backdrop of gloomy and hard volcanic ejacu… Oh hell! I guest authored today on wicked cool Jen’s site, and here’s the wicked cool link to take you there.

Please pop on back and tell me what you thought about my wicked cool, Heavy Metal-doused diatribe!

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You Suck.

You suck at life…

You suck in your marriage…

You suck at fulfilling your potential…

You suck in love…

Hell, you even suck at limiting this post to just 5 songs…

You suck.

•••

Please visit Jen’s Twisted Mix-Tape Tuesday for more songs about sucking.

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PS: Should you listen to only (1) this week, go with track number #6, as it is damned near the “You Suck” anthem of all time. But also try to give picks 1 through 5 a audio peek as well. I mean, hell, this IS a mix tape, right?

Briefly…

Oh daddy, you soooo can NOT dance.

‘Ey mate. Nice dancin’ out there.

Yes I can, sweetheart.

Hey, thanks.

Umm, no. No you cannot.

‘Ad the girls really goin’!

But check out my…

Yeah, right…

Don’t you even!

No, really! Kept it lively, fun.

You do know, it was I who taught you how to dance.

You can only attack life in joy, or as a chore, right? I chose the former.

Well maybe, but that was a long time ago!

Well it was great.

And…?

I had fun, thanks.

And you’re too old now!

Neva’ too old not too, right?

•••

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Two separate conversations, intertwined. The first between my daughter and me, the second between Australian pop star Cody Simpson and the self same me again.

While the first chat could happen on almost any given occasion, its counterpart resulted from my recent need of part time employment to supplement my income (or as I like to call it, “Career, Pt. 2”). This brought me in contact with Mr. Simpson, as the soul barrier between him and 500 screaming ‘tweens – armed only with safety scissors and a smile. My control of these jibbering masses, through dancing about and joking with them, was noticed and remarked upon by Cody and his handlers, and it was their comments in general that formed the (mostly) fictional chat I had with him above.

Fortunately for some (and sadly for others I suppose), Deb did not choose any Cody tunes for the 100 Word Song prompt this week (click the link! Play along!), so we’ll be listening to One Republic’s “Counting Stars” instead.

Peace. Rest in it, Mr. Elmore Leonard.

Happy Feet

She is an inspiring artist, and a wonderful sport. I love her vision, and have longed to use more than one of her pieces as prompts. With one of her more recent works I blurted out my desire, and instead of politely ignoring me (as she should have), she actually invited me instead to go ahead and do as I wished. Dear Elena, I truly hope I don’t disappoint you with the following…

Copyright - Elena Caravela

Copyright – Elena Caravela

The shoes are key.

You see, it’s the shoes that always point forward, never back.

And my friend, if you’ve even one that points in the yesterday direction, then I should think it high time that you invest in a new pair!

No, it’s the shoes that point forward. Ever looking towards the horizon. Ever hoping for the next step instead of the last, scary monsters and super creeps be damned.

Be they jaunty or clunky, tight tipped or broad-nosed, dirty or clean, new or old, they carry you on your journey. They are – if you’ll pardon the deplorable, yet necessary pun – with you every step of the blessed (or damned, as the case may be) way.

For you see, while the shoes may point the direction, tis you who decides how they’ll get you to where they’re going. Tis you who decides whether they’ll bounce or thud, whether they’ll crisply cut the low air, or drag along the concrete sulkily. Tis you who decides whether they will move with purpose and speed, lounge along casually with a certain ease of mind, or trawl dead-weighted from moment to moment in sullen despair.

You see, whether you turn to the left or turn to the right is not the thing. The thing is in the very fashion with which you make that turn, and in the passion with which you tarry forth.

And best of all, tis you who decides that, my friend – YOU!

As for yours truly, I had decided several epiphanies back to slap the smile on my face, and screw my best hat – yes, the flouncy one – securely to my noggin just prior to heading out my mind’s door.

True, the rain still comes, and the weather must still be weathered. But I’ve come to learn that it’s not so much the rain that stops me, as it is these very drops of salty wetness that serve to create me – making me who I am and who I might someday be.

The smudges these sky-fallen tears leave are worn with pride, not embarrassment. And much like the shoes that are charged with moving both them and my own good self along, on our way forward we all march gaily to the ‘morrow!

•••

I hope you come along too.

And yes, I am ending today with this…

Interrupting All Programs.

So on Tuesday, this happened:

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I Won The Internet, 8/20/13

Just thought you all should know, you know, just how cool it is to be reading me…

Thank you Tracy =)

Briefly…

I know Leeroy, I know – you hate me now, and maybe you’ve even forgotten who in the hell I am, as it’s been so long since I played along. Look, things have been a little weird lately, OK?

And speaking of weird, when someone as delightful and awesome as Jen picks something as delightfully weird as The Flaming Lips for the prompt, how can I NOT throw in my dime this time?

So, here’s my head-full-of-fluff-and-other-things take on this week’s 100 Word Song...

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Like Godzilla triumphant, with each blow either he became weaker, or she became stronger.

None too sure which was truer, it was a fact that his barbed-wire lips had dulled to the point where the words that escaped them now simply tugged on her soul, versus ripping it to pained shreds.

Odd how it occurred… the realization that the one who wrote the script, set the scene and assigned the marks, could no longer control all the actors upon the stage.

Like Yoshimi victorious, she rose to the challenge, and in the final scene, found that she’d held the day.

•••

This is dedicated to my dear sister Renee. Another Yoshimi, who likewise is poised to in short order, arise victorious.

Leonard Nimoy Gets Laid…

Listen, love ain’t free. You and I both know it, so let’s stop beating round that sad old bush and face the facts, OK?

Even when you wistfully think, “hey, no strings attached,” you just know that you’re lying to yourself. There’s ALWAYS strings attached. If not in heart, then at the very least, in purse…

And sometimes in heart as well, sometimes even a heart filled with disappointment…

But for the masses, disappointment is a worn-out old suit. Ill-fitting, uncomfortable and an embarrassment. Especially when the purse beckons towards instant gratification, especially when disappointment can simply be turned into a jaunty lil’ jingle to help celebrate the sin…

And speaking of jingles, are there any better than the one where instant attraction leads to instant fireworks? And instant fireworks leads to rings being exchanged? And rings being exchanged leads to some sort of happiness ever-after? But most often, only after those rings have lost their shimmer, going off on their merry pawn shopping way…?

But that’s just it – a blessed few get to realize their happiness ever-after, and the rest of us are simply relegated to dealing with the truth of the matter (most usually, only long after our purses have been drained of cash and fight) that eventually everyone has to pay, even Nimoy…

•••

So Jen told us this week’s Twisted Mix-Tape Tuesday prompt was “No Strings Attached,” and I instantly gravitated towards prostitution. None too sure why, but I feel that Anita said it best, when she cooed that she had been through the “mill of love,” only to find every type but True. And maybe that in itself is the truth of the matter. I mean, at least when dealing with General Hooker’s women, you know that you’ll be broke by the end.

Oh, and speaking of Hooker’s women, here’s your bonus track for this week – I hope that you enjoy =)