reading

this is me this morn in a shirt handed down from dad to james to me. me, so happy due to being home & having read the best novel in memory. yesterday i took james to his packed gig north of long beach, CA., stephen hodges on drums. no room in the joint, s.r.o., as they says. went thrifting, grocery shopping, had falafel & tea, read my book. my sponsor, a bibliophile, loaned me the frozen river, an absorbing, riveting!, historical fiction by ariel lawhon. returned to exhausted james, soaked w sweat, james, so grateful for the show & all the love from friends & fans, swept him home through the night. finished the outstanding book this a.m. in bed, birdsong & yawning forest cheering outside, a lush view of nature abundant, whatta brilliant bedroom picture we have. the last wk of school is upcoming, then the heart doc, then i hope physical therapy for the injured-since-dec foot. after that i'll be able to play more than a set w/o pain & not think every gerd episode is a heart attack. happy sun'

s day.

Soyajoy, boy oh boy!

Dictated: My resourceful sister gifted me with a kitchen appliance called a Soyajoy. This amazing object, which she grabbed while thrifting, can puree dry beans, peas, and grains within 20 mins! Our school district didn't use all our snow days, so I was home today fixing little crap around the house and decided to Soyajoy a pitcher of mayacuba (canary) beans. Was the project successful? I'm in bed at 830 now, too full to move. From two cups of beans I made porridge with maple syrup (breakast-lunch); a complete cake, actually more like a custard, topped with coconut molasses frosting; and spicy rice-bean griddle cakes (dinner). Meant to research any deleterious effects of eating too many beans, but too late now, can't unring that bell. So far, so good: other than extreme fullness, I've not had the gastric explosion one might anticipate. I read that pureed beans are more bioavailable, easier to digest, even, so maybe that's it. So if you want to add another method for great eating, look for a Soyajoy!... There's a lot of other stuff going on, but I'm too beaned up to keep going. B

urp.

memories & gratitudes

when things are calm, memories can come surging back, ones that don't make sense. flash!

someone should write a song about it. maybe me. tho the memory that came up recently's too creepy: i don't want to entertain it in verse & melody at this point.

we just were at a meeting & james is parsing the disjointed ramblings of the schizophrenic person who was there, sort of like we used to do with lit analysis when i was an undergrad. difference here, there's no pomposity with james. in school, there was always some ass or another blowing word-flatus & wasting everybody's time with their unnecessary blathering.

this morning we had a beautiful principal's day ceremony for my boss, who sure deserves it. i played the piano keyboard as first the tk thru 1st grades, next, 2nd through 4th grades sang to him. the whole student body gave him cards they had made. laughing, giggling children swarmed him with hugs.

my boss was struck by heavy emotion, overwhelmed with love, leading afterward to a classroom discussion of "being moved to tears." i was grateful to be in charge of this celebration, & a few weeks back, our test prep rally, too. our boss has complimented me as "our school's cheerleader," which is so bizarre considering my socially phobic origins. however, i've not been that way for many moons. i have a duty to step forward when these occasions come up. other people might get shy, but i cannot. i've got the skill set for performance, music, art stuff, so i can't have false modesty when a task needs doing, & i've got the ability to do it.

just got to lead the drunk club mtg & james keeps saying, "i'm proud of you, honey." i am grateful because, like my boss's compliment, he means it. i'm so proud of him right now, it's tough to express. he's my kookoo, my hero, my peach, my precious. i hope you have one, too, but if you don't, be your own.

you gotta home, james, long as i got mine

we decided not to go south to see 3 blasters since phil wouldn't be there. instead just had the coolest rehearsal. we know 100s of songs between the 2 of us! the blasters & chuck berry ones have settled into the ur-brain & come out natural as air. like a 2-engine locomotive!! 3 hours later, my foot needs an x-ray more now than ever. it was worth it!!!

the question isn't will you do it? / the question is can you do it?

life has been in session lately, which is recovery-speak for things have been pretty shite. songwriting is a productive funnel for emotion, so i wrote a song just now in the style of the 5 royales, recorded a video, then realized i'm too deflated to figure out how to upload it. but this pic of my home recording session reminded me of a co-worker i had many lives ago, when i worked for buck owens & dated his youngest son. this co-worker, who typical of that time felt entitled to say such things, said "jenny g** (my family name), some days you look fine, & some days you look like sh*t." this pic is more of the former variety, w/its

flattering bright lights. there's an episode of seinfeld (tellingly, of that same time period) on that same idea: the woman who is a goddess from one angle, medusa from another. anyways, i can't play you the song right now here, but one of these days i hope i'll record the hundreds of songs i've written & just throw them out there on some platform or other. i've even considered going to tiktok, tho i feel i might be decades too old. my friend ruben (late of the blazers) used to say put the songs out there, let them steal them, then go after them. that was in the days before streaming, however. who knows now what would happen. i know the few times ppl have written songs about me, or even better, recorded songs i wrote, it's been a great compliment. ok, back to Life. not knowing what will happen is a great curiosity & terror, but it's the only notion that's realistic. all moments have led to the great Now.

chop wood, carry water

keep trudging

blablablablablablabla

james, in a typical state of insomnia-triggered exhaustion, put on a gangbusters sold-out show yesterday in long beach, ca. on his bathroom break, i jumped up & sang one & people laughed & grinned. after, i chatted with steven hodges about one-man bands: he's working on one, too! i told promoter cadillac zack about mine & he said i'm the only one around who sings like wanda jackson; let's work together. my foot's still healing, but once i can get thru a few sets w/o it killing me, i'm gonna hit up a bunch of musicians from jump blues to western to psychobilly to see about opening... on the way home, we stopped at the whopper palace, which serves impossible burgers, yknow, & i realized the ones in taft (a rural place) actually are plant burgers, not impossible. impossible actually tastes & feels sorta like meat! weird but good... today has been an exhausted blur. i finished watching huge-fun wacko netflix documentary kings of tupelo & have been trying to get going on projects but bleh. no gas in the tank! guess some days, if a person has the minute, a rest or snooze might be in order. hard to do when the world's so full of interesting shtuff... did learn about some cool new (to me) musicians like bad banana & rell robertson & make chickpea cakes, which were if not scrumptious, at least decent. the older human's predicament: how to get enuf protein?? esp when eschewing the cannibalization of our animal brethren. well, that's enuf fo now but here's pix of ever-cinematic mister james with super-mensch guitar monster anthony contreras.

" the creature beckons me with broken arms "

brideoffrank1manband was going through my phone, deleting items, created a photo dump for classdojo, adorable pictures of 3rd graders for their parents to enjoy, found the above video & am posting it here. between louis & james over the holidays, i musta been too preoccupied to get these out in a timely way. not that the world cares, but those parents do, & i do. see i love this weird song that i wrote. turns out it helped bring james to me. of this song he always says, i was sitting at home & found this weird song online & thought, who is this strange, beautiful creature?... saw another ad for the bride. my prediction is it's going to be one of the great duds of filmdom, a razzy on the level of ishtar or plan 9.... well, it's saturday. the plant food experiment seems to be paying off. my doc said the other day, i don't know what you're doing, but you are very, very healthy. please consider dropping animal foods if you are often not feeling well.

"must be a different part of the brain."

james wants a t-shirt for his upcoming 60th bd show. we needed to capture an older james. so was finishing this drawing & marveling at how, unlike music, i can NOT draw for even years at a time... & still some skill is there. drawing does not seem to get as rusty as do the fingers & pipes. when i don't stay up on playing & singing, i am clam & suck city.

well, today im home ill & making the best of it. tcb. here's the drawing.

(extra cool addendum - i just realized the circular font is from the original planet of the apes.)

yippee

we are on our third snow day, three days without going to work! james compared us to the bored garbagenauts in john carpenter's hilarious 1st feature dark star. you can find this awesomely strange cult scifi comedy streaming freely these days. that's definitely an upside of the cyberculture soup of today: instant access to the once-obscure, weirdly exciting content!! we spent hours today playing music: james's repertoire, his originals he hasn't gotten to play on stage forever, his jump & hi-lonesome faves, my favorite two beats, originals & uptempo rockabilly & american music raves... i got great news from my superintendent about when i can retire. i love my students, my school & the duty of educating the future. i love how my boss treats us like artisans, professionals on a most important journey, but how he does it with humor. having said all that,

i can't wait to jump back into the stream of music, or as my sister called it long ago, the rock and roll circus.

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 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.

" As monsters grow more human, humans look more monstrous."

How Monsters Went from Menacing to Misunderstood | The New Yorker https://share.google/R5h530RWOIEdoK9V4 Read this through to the end for its fascinating conclusion.

if you give a man a jingle, he'll jingle for a day, but if you teach a man to jingle, he'll jingle all the way. - big manny

thank goodness for this time of year. if you knew manuel or loved his music, send your own (short) holiday music videos to james at the address on the flyer to be included in this joyful happy show. THIS EVENT HAS BEEN CANCELLED! <3

our sweet boy / 72 hrs

ago we were forced to put down our dear precious little old boy louie and the freezing howling bleak and stormy grayness this week mirrors the despair of it