yeppers

now and then i get an anonymous insult. of course it happens! really i've been quite lucky considering my strong beliefs, choice of spouse, & plus just being a female: yknow. i mean, everyone in print & video & audio meets this kind of cowardice at some point... for never is a real identity given. mare see! say la vee!

feel i should post, yet nothing much to say

the world's a mess, it's in my kiss... so let's instead look at the mundane: been sick lately. caught james's cold, which he caught from me. here, catch! no, you take it! no, you! saw bugonia. shocking, so well-made. love emma stone, yorgos lanthimos. her other show, with nathan fielder, the curse: omg. you must watch it for indelible cringe & white-privilege comeuppance. the ending still seers in my coconut... laid in bed like a noodle & binged cramps live videos. the best was bourges fr 1986. such theatre! such presence! "nothing like this will ever happen again," james said: nick knox strolls out & takes to the platformed drums, coolly smoking; next, fur dixon (who'd just joined the week before) all punkrock party girl mohawked fun; then regally gorgeous ivy in sneering harem gold, her red pouffe glowing around her glowering beauty; & finally crouching lux in madman pompadour, zombie-white torso, & skin-tight gold lame. he rises, he leers, he roars, he bellows, he incites, he calls them all to be saved & damned by the church of rocknroll. as thrilling as don't knock the rock's little richard & jerry lee lewis scenes, but much sexier & with greater abandon, the 40-year old video just killed me, as art fein would've said. imagine having been there! a person would have to quit the world to follow the cramps. there would be no other way... yes, was reminded why they are still the world's greatest band alongside the blasters & the 5 royales (not considering the big bands such as bob wills', louis jordan's, louie prima's, bill haley's)... maybe they were greater due to their complete commitment to physical immersion, the visual aspect of their shows, lux's acrobatics & visceral machinations. yes, lux interior's death was a devastating loss to the world of rocknroll & wackadoodle bacchanals. he was a hurricane of cool, elvis meets frankenstein, a beautiful, bopping, psychedelic roar. again, such a loss!! the world will never reel back... then after all that, james came to my sick bed & we together saw a documentary on the church of the subgenius. cool, thought-provoking. made me miss paste-up, the exciting days of underground renegade self-publishing. remember those days? you had to search out other weirdos. but what an amazing thrill when we connected! yes, made us again miss the 80s. lately we've been so missing the pre-net days. whoda thunk. guess it mostly means we are old folks now, the idea that the world was better back then. next, saw tv show hairy bikers. comforting, humane. we wanna travel so bad. darned lovely job, chaining me here... so in other news no one cares about, am sleeping through the nights. health good tho head has cold. yoga for sickness maybe helped. if you have a cold, don't get in a sauna or sneeze too hard. i blew out an eye blood vessel, apparently by doing those things. very sexy... i crawled behind the keys & drums & we practiced music. let's do just an hour, we said. 2 and a half later, the top of my injured foot, still messed up from last month's ladder-fall, was throbbing... but we were cleansed & spent by our living room performance. we had attended our church. see, we have a duty to play this music. again we remembered: we are denying the world by not doing shows. james keeps saying, it's up to us now. lux is dead, phil alvin will never perform again. it's up to us. we must do it. we have to bring forward the music of those who came before, our version, that is. because it's so important, i here quote the dearly departed ronnie dawson, aka the blond bomber: when i die, bury me six feet deep with a rocknroll record at my feet & a phonograph needle in my hand, gonna rock my way right out of this land... when i die, doncha bury we me at all, just nail my bones up on the wall, beneath these bones let these words be seen, here's the running gears of a bopping machine.

zoom care for the human suit

don't know if your insurance will cover it, but try this for nutritional improvement: nourish nutrition... it's worth seeing if you can get it, i think.

fur auld lang syne, a test run

happy 2026! this is a simplified combo of the albert ammons & dr john arrangements of this song, which as a child i only knew to have the lyrics "that's where the old folks play." continuing to build stamina in my ankles/shins & work on snare 1/8 hits. as i get stronger, will add more rhythms beyond my current 2-beat, shuffle, & semi-clave repertoire. the snare james gifted me belonged to the late great max bangwell (aka bob ebersole jr), & i adore its sound. whimsically, i hope it gives me some bangwell juju. forgive the clams!... swanee river one-man band

the drunk club, the 13th step

in the drunk club, they say women stick with women, men with men. in my 30 plus yrs, only once did a man asked me to sponsor him -- a man who liked men, so i thought, well, we'll see what happens, maybe i can help him til we get to the 5th step. he disappeared before we did any work at all, so i hope he is ok today, wherever he is!

since i've been sober so long, of course i've had male friends, & certainly i've admired the program of many, looked up to many, but whatever love existed there was philic, not erotic. on the other hand, over those same many yrs, some males (never the ones who were my friends) expressed carnal interest in me, likely because i was young & good-looking... & new! but in the context of "the rooms," their lust seemed gross & scary -- the program saved my life & was/is sacred. not to mention that sex is especially troublesome for People Like Us -- helpless, hopeless, certainly sick in body & mind, to paraphrase the book... what about my very life? what about theirs? yecch, horndogs, go away!!!

never have i ever contacted a man to "talk about the program." because it's never that. that's a baldfaced lie. yes, i've sure made mistakes with the opposite sex, but never under the sleazy pretense of trying to help someone stay sober. alcoholics die all the time from this disease. to purport to help someone while trying to get in their drawers... evil. in my 1.5 decades with james, a few females have tried this. of course they have! he's james! apparently long ago when the announcement was made at a huge music show that we had eloped, there was screaming, wailing, clawing at the eyeballs & breasts, & likely plots to do me in! after that, a few really tried to get between us. nice try! didn't work!

but to try to get to him through the program? again, that is selfishness bordering on evil. do they even consider james's sobriety? of course not!! as angie happily said the other day, "those cows will get theirs. karma has a way of catching up with people like that." so next time a woman tries to sponsor james, or a man tries to sponsor me (i mean, it could happen still, right?), we'll raise the sign of the cross, i likely will quote the big book since it's part of my working mind now, but james, being new, might quote father karras, something from the exorcist, something like be gone, demon!!! be gone!!

nov 18-dec 18 are finito.

nov 18 our dear little louie, so sick, so darling, our sweet old boy, had to go over the rainbow bridge. on pearl harbor day, james tried to torpedo his sobriety, but from "the most horrible mistake of my life," as he called it, better days are on the horizon... i drove to 6500 elevation & got a lovely haircut & dye from our friend gabi, a wonderful mother of two & bettie page look-alike who told stories of bear break-ins & blizzards as if they were commonplace.

. i'm so glad we're in the relative lowlands @ only 5000 elevation! then Life struck again on dec 18, when at dawn i rushed to the e.r. the good news is, i know my heart's ok. the bad news is, i'm noiviss, so jittereh, so went back on pranayama. i've got some imbalances from not eating animals for 1.5 yrs, too, so veganism must now be caput. am still off cow, pig, octopus - any animal smarter than a toddler just should not be food, least in this society, altho where places of deprivation be, all bets & i.q. tests are off. and of course there is "grandma's rule," which i'll abide... looked up the names of cheeses that are non-cow & a puerile beach boys melody arose: "romano, manchego, rocquefort, peccorino, a-and vegan, and feta, buf'lo mozzarella!" (did you hear it, too?) well, it's almost meeting time for us, so chow for nyow.

funny, how strong

james is such a comedian so often. I mean, he could be one of the greats , if he chose to do so. i'd never heard mama laugh so loud until he came along. we sat at the dr this eve waiting and waiting and took hand pix. his goofy cracks about his hand's appearance hit in such a swift volley, i was lost in laughing and can't tell you even one now... since nov 18, some sad and truly crappy events have occurred, but cracked ceramic, when glued back together, gets that much stronger. i am tired, so forgive this loose and lazy writing.

happy 59th anniversary, mom and dad. we took them to italian for a festive meal, then drove back up to the mountain in the dark night. "that was a very special time," said my spouse, who took over driving duties because i was on a 14 hr day by that time. i am grateful.