Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Boiling Point




Literature boils with the madcap careers of writers brought to the edge by the demands of living on their nerves, wringing out their memories and their nightmares to extract meaning, truth, beauty.
--Herbert Gold


I see you



thanks to http://kthread.tumblr.com




























don't miss a thang, y'all!










Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Miles Davis and Finding the Right Jazz + Sonic Youth

After days of turmoil caring for our 5-yr-old by myself, I found I was hungering for a certain musical sound. In my head, it was like Sonic Youth, but not. It was random; was it jazz? If it was jazz, what jazz? In my head the sound was chaotic, syncopated and weird. I asked a jazz friend, a bass player, “Who should I be listening to for this sound I feel?”

And while he gave me a number of suggestions, none was quite right. That made it easier to narrow down. Who was missing here?

Miles.

Of course. Miles Davis, what the fuck is wrong with me? I immediately searched in Spotify and clicked.

Ah, the relief, OH, the relief when I turned Miles on.

What is this need? And what’s the connection between Miles and Sonic Youth?

Sonic Youth is chaotic and overbearing, and completely rob the soul of all sense of self with discordant sound arrangements that travel through dimensions, and build rooms, and become enveloping, all-encompassing...disappearing.

I thought of Jean-Michel Basquiat talking about jazz in the beautiful doc, Radiant Child. I thought of his favorite type of jazz, Bebop. I went through the players...shit!
still not one that fit the bill...who hadn’t I tried?

Miles.

Chaotic, loud, absolutely sure of its place in space and time, his sound is fucking free flying sound, with the volume, and the travel in and out. It’s random, beautiful chaos. There’s so much freedom in that. It’s a language spoken so clearly, as if to say, “I am reality. I am all.”

To which I say, “I submit. I give it up. I’ll become nothing for sound.”

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Nothing is worse than losing your mind...

...but if you survive it, you gain a skill that will make the rest of your life easier than it would have been without.
















(Thanks, Jenny Holzer!)

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

100 Galloping Monsters




This girl I know, she gave up too quickly. She was a kid living in a depressed area, she had few skills and was looking at low pay. She said, "I'll never be able to afford it here."

Her mom moved to Oklahoma, that dustbowl of dead opportunity. So she moved to the same tiny town not close to anything. Or anyone. Or any future bigger than the reality right in front of her.

No 21-year-old who lives here ever has enough money, and always gets low pay. I wish I had told her that. You stay and work it, because this is where opportunity lives and without opportunity, life will always be the same. No movement. No growth. No risks. No learning.

To live here at 21, you have to adjust to not eating much. You find a home that will let you split the rent into two payments a month, a place with included electricity. You move into a closet, one big enough just for a futon on the floor and a place for the door to open.

She didn't have a dream, she didn't think she could do it. But what about me? I had no confidence either, but I was filled with the juiced-up anger of 100 galloping monsters. That anger burned like a fever, forever moving me forward. Bad decisions led to mistakes which led to learning, far reaching discoveries, and devastating humiliations.

Just the right amount of insanity is a very good thing. I'm so grateful for the fire inside. I worked San Francisco and I won. 16 years of struggle. Nonstop struggle, with no net, no backup, no parents with a handy check to send. I worked my way up in a creative industry that paid a lot, because of the raging fever. Because I held tightly to the conviction that mediocrity must be avoided at all costs. I could stop eating and I could live in the ghetto and I could survive a nervous breakdown all by myself. And get back up and work more and be abused more, just to make it past the next rung. 

And then, 16 years later, I left the boiling cauldron of City culture. I had won.

And when I won and I was done, I said goodbye and good riddance and went on to have a peaceful life in a quiet town on the other side of the bridge. 

When I was done I put that City in a headlock and threw it down on the ground and stepped on it. "Thank you, tar pit trap, for making me a person I can respect."


Saturday, June 11, 2016

VW

Guy and I are driving along, headed to Yosemite for a weekend holiday when we get into a discussion about Volkswagen.

We love Volkswagen. Our parents drove Volkswagens. It's the "people's car"...that's what it meant, right?

I tell Guy, Volkswagen has the best logo...look at that! I point to a newish version in front of us. He says, "Yeah, but Mercedes is strong too."

I take that, I think about it, tell him, "Yeah, it's strong, but VW has the name in it. The name is the logo." To which guy gave me a solid, non-defeated, "Yeah."

 Story over.










The Day We Lost David

My mom was at our house the day David Bowie died. I went down to the guest room to tell her after seeing the news on CNN. It was early morning.

I sat on the edge of the guest bed. She woke up and removed her sleep apnea mask, asking me, "What's wrong, Baby?" her face filling with concern as tears silently rolled down my cheeks and my face folded inward as I leaned in, losing it. She struggled to sit up and give me her attention.

"What's wrong, Baby?"

"Mommy, David Bowie DIED!" and I let it go, all the messy bawling. And she pulled me close to her chest and said, "I'm so sorry, sweetheart, ohhhh, I am so so sorry." She stroked the back of my head and let me cry and cry and cry and cry.

Then Rx got in bed with us and we all three hugged. Rx, a little confused but at the ready with empathy, "I'm so sorry your friend died, mommy," she said.

Yes, my friend. My friend who got me through it! Through being 13! 14! 15! Through feeling hated! And ugly! And stupid! And different! Through high school, what a nightmare! And into college, great times! And on my own, and when I moved to the City and saw his show at Kezar Stadium and he was so happy, he smiled the whole time and gave the goodness away—just like that! And then when I got married, and the period after that when I listened to Let's Dance every morning while getting dressed, when I still had a record player, well into my 30s.

After arriving at work, I was in the kitchen putting my frozen Atkins food away when I felt someone walk in quickly and stand right next to me abruptly. It was Buddy System. He had tears in his eyes and so did I. We both knew.

We stared at each other for a beat, two beats, and then I hugged him. A good hug. He hugged back and we just felt sad together for a minute, then parted. The pools in our eyes broke and rolled down our faces and we were silent. Neither of us said anything.

Nothing at all.

He walked away and went upstairs. I closed the fridge door, listening to it suction back together.

Friday, May 27, 2016

This is the future and it's a nightmare

Immediately following my post about hating work, I received a recruitment email :)  from this start-up company (and seriously the email opened with a smiley face).   :)   "Hi! I'm a really happy person! Because this start-up is SO AWESOME! Look how we work! Well, it doesn't feel like work because we're bouncing around like infants in plastic balls with pokey things inside! Oops! Don't roll me down the hill, silly work friend! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! This is sooooooo fun! You have AWESOME experience, Lou Jones! Let's talk!"






















Thursday, May 26, 2016

Work


is stupid.













It's not that I'm lazy.














It's that I want to live

















in wayne's world.
















Monday, May 23, 2016

Fuck Your Noguchi Table

Some sites are little jewels that sit behind your brain for years, waiting to be remembered. They come to you like a memory from when you were 5. A swoosh of movement, a faint laugh, who showed you first. Like something you're looking at through half-closed venetian blinds.

This is one of the best.