You Can’t Count On Me

Last time on Soul To Body: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2012/04/25/just-what-i-needed/

His crossed arms answered her question before he spoke.

“Well, Violet doesn’t need to know you’re with me. I’ve never eaten here so, why don’t you order for us?

Mallory fidgeted with her hair, separating the blonde streaks from the auburn while smiling at the waitress who approached the table. He eyed the waitress’ right arm sleeve of tattoos

“We’ll have BLTs and sweet teas and I like your ink.”

The waitress smiled and mouthed thank you. He caught Mallory’s eyes shoot darts at the her then lighten when she looked at him.

“Mallory, I like tattoos. I have seven.”

She grinned and played with her hair again.

“Oh, I do too. I don’t have any but I like them. Tattoos are sexy, especially on men.”

The conversation was awkward. He watched her struggle to recover. She held her breath. He tried to save the moment because they hadn’t eaten, yet.

“I think you’d look great with some ink.”

Mallory exhaled and then gave a wide grin. She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the old, round metal table.

“I know this is really forward, and you’ll have to figure out someway to keep it from your daughter but my girlfriend at work has two tickets to the Counting Crows show.”

He squirmed in his chair and closed his eyes.

“Jake! Jake Hanna?”

He remembered the male voice calling his name in the Atlanta airport on the way home from the Mexican vacation where he met his late wife, Camille.

“Yeah, I’m Jake Hanna.”

He shuffled and looked at Camille, who put her hands on her curvy hips and raised her eyebrows.

“You’re famous Jake?”

He laughed and turned to the man.

“It’s me, Gary Boggs, from Smyth’s Olde Pub. I used to work there. I remember your band Boxer Ego. I heard you guys opened for Counting Crows then broke up. That sucks, man. What happened?”

Embarrassed he looked over his shoulder at Camille, who smirked, waiting for his explanation.

“Oh Gary, you know. Jimmy quit, Jody got married. Shoulda known we’ve never get far.”

Gary gave a blank look and shook his head. Camille began laughing. She walked over to Jake and whispered in his left ear.

“I don’t think your friend got the Bryan Adams song reference. Nice to know I fell in love with a musician in Mexico.”

He picked up his right hand and touched her face. They kissed by the baggage carousel.

“Jake, so, do you want to go to the concert?”

He opened his eyes and looked into Mallory’s anxious green eyes. His picked up his recently delivered sweet tea and swallowed a moderate amount.

“Yeah, I’ll go. You can count on me.”

This is a new episode of Soul To Body. You can find the rest of the story, so far, here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/soul-to-body/ This is also my answer to the StudioThirtyPlus prompt “she held her breath” and Write On Edge’s prompt of 450 words emphasizing dialogue – http://writeonedge.com/2012/04/red-writing-hood-prompt-more-than-words/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+TheRedDressClub+%28the+red+dress+club%3A%29

Today’s song is a spin on the band mentioned, Counting Crows, and Jake Hanna’s ironic statement “you can count on me” to Mallory. He doesn’t mean that. Here’s You Can’t Count On Me:

 

Running With The Devil

If you ever want to quote or attribute anything to my name, use this:

Screw cleanliness. Self awareness is next to Godliness.

Love is a lot of things. One thing it is, that people rarely talk about, is compromising your principles for harmony. I’m coming up on four years with the loves of my life, my wife, the Bobina, and my two of my three daughters,, 16-year-old Tay, and 7-year-old Goose. Before they came along, my middle daughter, now 8-year-old Bug, and I had an odd bi-weekly habit. I’d take her to, what I call the main ring of Hell, the Mall of Georgia. I’d let her “ride the ponies” (carousel) and play on the playground. Then we’d buy a couple of cookies (oatmeal raisin for me, whatever she wanted for her) and call it a good 2 hours. I did it for her. I loved her so much that I sucked up my disgust for crass consumerism and unnecssary crowds. I’d pop a couple of  extra pills and we’d have a good time.

I know my faults. There are many. Mostly, I have a low tolerance for nonsense. As opened-minded as I think I am, I have serious deals with music and other forms of pop culture snobbery. When I first met my wife, my myspace (remember that social media before it became a crack den?) “handle” was “Lance, Music Snob”. I made fun of other people’s music. Thinking back, I wanted to punch me too.

Saturday, I found my version of The Holy Grail. In the mall of georgia courtyard is a small store called The Rock Shop. http://www.facebook.com/rockshopmusic?sk=wall Inside are vintage t-shirts, posters, and DVDs of some of my favorite punk and rock bands like The Ramones, The Misfits, Alice in Chains, Iron Maiden, The Clash, and many more. While I contemplated spending 20 bucks I didn’t really have on getting a 1992 Alice in Chains concert tee, the proprieter, a well tattooed dude about my age, chatted up a weird guy who was thumbing through Van Halen merchandise. My hands were on the t-shirt, I felt my debit card in my ripped blue jeans pocket when the bomb dropped.

Shop owner: ” you know, Van Halen is back on tour and has a new CD coming out. I can pre-order it for you.”

Weird guy: “Yeah, I’m excited but I’m also disappointed. Sammy Hagar’s not involved. I mean I like David Lee Roth but the band was so much tighter with Sammy.”

My fists clenched and my temples throbbed. Diamond Dave is Van Halen, you giant jackass! ….I said it under my breath.

I realized that I really had changed. My wife and kids have mellowed me and given me perspective. Four years ago, I would have yelled at the weird guy, gotten thrown out of a great new place, and wasted an opportunity to look forward to the mall with the women I love. My wife called me at the exact moment the conversation happened inside the rock shop. It was like she knew something was going down. I walked out and started breathing normally again.

Yesterday, for the sake of this blog, I compromised another principle. I suppressed my deep dislike for The Facebook and re-opened my idle account after two years burning up the internets with twitter and this blog. http://www.facebook.com/lance.burson &  http://www.facebook.com/lance.burson?sk=info&edit=1#!/pages/My-Blog-Can-Beat-Up-Your-Blog/339720439382777?sk=wall 

I’m enjoying the new avenues to talk to friends, family, and fellow writers. If I see Nickelback or Van Hagar mentioned positively in a status or post I’ll ignore it or maybe go to the gym and hit a speed bag.

I’ve dealt with my Devil. Now, like Diamond Dave’s Van Halen, in 1978, I’m just running with it.

The Weight Of Her

She’s a smoking hot mess of wonder and hurt. That feeling that not only breaks your heart but also questions your intelligence and brings your sanity into discussion. Regret is a bitch.

Last night I had a 10 minute phone call with someone who played an important part in mine and my wife’s lives years ago. It’s not hyperbole to write that she was close to being our best friend. After I hung up the phone, I realized that by the mistakes she’d made, and the growth my wife and I had experienced, a friendship with her would be unlikely. We are just in different places. During the phone call regret was spoken of dozens of times. You often hear people say “I don’t have any regrets” or “I don’t live my life with regret”. Those are lies. Everyone wishes they hadn’t done, said, slept with, been around, drank, drugged, misunderstood, yelled, pushed away, and forgotten things and people. That’s regret. You’ll always have it in your life.

What’s every middle-aged person’s favorite cliché?

“You learn from your mistakes and become a stronger person.”

What that really means is,

“You know you screwed up and you were wrong and a full-blown idiot. Now, don’t be that way again and hope the people you hurt don’t burn you in effigy.”

At 41 years old, I have a list of people who probably call themselves my enemies. I have moments in my past where I just wasn’t a good person. If there was a department of do-over, I would be an all district performer in apologies and amends making.

I believe, and this may reveal great arrogance or expansive naiveté, that how I live my life now shows reverence to regret. My last cliché I offer on this subject is, I live my life how I want, it makes me happy, and I hope that’s good enough for those paying attention.

I hope the person I spoke to last night gets through her rough time, finds out who and what she is, and then makes the life she should. I’m just glad the weight of her, that big bad mama known as regret, is no longer weighing me down.

My friend Angela wrote something similar on her blog today: http://tiaras-and-trucks.blogspot.com/2011/11/rethinking-regret.html?spref=tw She a terrific writer. I hope you read what she says on the subject.

New Helene Troy episode late tonight, around 11pm. Then more Nanowrimo writing.

Today’s song is from the great Butch Walker. At first listen, this song is a about a bad girl. On 100th listen, you understand that the song is about whatever stress, bad feeling, or regret you’re carrying around. Here’s the rocking tune, The Weight Of Her. Play it loud.

Silver Lining

Last time with Helene Troy: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2011/10/14/thesunthemoonandthestars/

In a musician’s life, bad gigs are deaths. The aftermath is funereal. Helene Troy sat behind the bar, hiding herself from the dissatisfied audience and her musical hero in attendance, Ramona Gallery. She went over all of her mistakes in her head, as jack daniels and coke dulled her senses.

To save money, Helene’s band, Slipper Socks Medium, used a friend to mix sound. He was too busy leering at women to notice the microphones were turned up too high. The band sounded pitchy and out of sync. The new manager suggested popular cover songs. Helene ignored him and played mostly original material. The poor sound quality just angered the crowd. The saving grace of a lousy set was a rousing rendition of Led Zepplin’s Communication Breakdown that excited the masses and lyrically symbolized the night.

The manager collected the other band members, Sadie and Mara. They found Helene, swallowing the last of her whiskey. Helene put her left hand up to indicate she didn’t want a lecture. She got one anyway.

“I told you girls not to suck and you ignored me. So guess what, Slipper Socks Medium? For the next 3 months what I say goes or we tear up the contract right now.”

Sadie and Mara looked at Helene with dark wounded eyes. Sadie spoke first.

“We sounded like shit. We’ll be better next time. I thought we closed like rock stars!”

Helene slid her glass down the wooden bar top and pointed to the bartender for a drink to go. The manager shook his head at all three women and countered.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you all take the stage next week fronting The Golden Apples. You need set direction, a  professional sound engineer, and rehearsal time. This band starts tomorrow at the Soho studio. Figure out a time that works.”

Helene clenched her fists and her eyes twitched with ire.

“All 3 of us work nights and weekend days. We can practice Mondays through Thursday in the mornings. We need money for a new amp, a mixing board, and clothes.”

The manager nodded positively.

“The good news is, you cleared $335. I’ll go collect that cash and I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon, Helene. Don’t suck again, girls.”

Helene, Sadie and Mara looked each other and in unison responded sarcastically.

“We promise nothing.”

The manager walked away annoyed and found the bar owner to apologize. Sadie and Mara began worrying. Helene ignored them as she saw Ramona Gallery milling around the side entrance. Helene and Ramona walked toward each other, meeting in front of the stage. Ramona smiled. Helene looked away, embarrassed.

“You caught us on a bad night. I can’t believed you stayed. I’m so sorry Ramona.”

Ramona pulled her long straight red hair behind her ears and hugged Helene.

“Don’t be goofy, Leney. You rocked the set close. Your sound guy was staring at tits. I evil glared him a handful of times before he finally realized what was going on. You have a good chemistry with your players. I liked the originals a lot.”

Helene couldn’t speak. Just talking to Ramona was too unbelievable. Ramona looked at the plastic cup, half-full of whiskey and soda.

“Looks like my girl needs another couple of those. The White Room has better booze. Let’s go across the street and I’ll get you rolled into a cab properly in a couple of hours.”

Helene smiled , showing every tooth she had.

“It’s been a crazy last few days. I feel like I’m living in a cage.”

Sadie called out to Helene.

“Hey, we’ll get the equipment! Meet us over at Mara’s apartment tomorrow morning.”

Helene raised her left hand and waved goodbye. She pulled her wet, brown bangs away from her face and downed the last drink of whiskey. Ramona put her arm around Helene and whispered.

“I love the new tattoo. Now, shake it off. It happens. There’s a silver lining Leney. Trust me, I know why the caged bird sings. Because she has to. Let’s go get drunk and tell lies.”

Helene and Ramona laughed as they walked out of the Drunk Rhino bar.

****blogger’s note****

This is a new story episode of The Ballad of Helene Troy. You can find the story so far here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/

This is my response to the IndieInk challenge http://www.indieink.org  from K. Syrah http://www.shoesneverworn.com/ of  “Why does the caged bird sing?” My challenge went to Kevin Wilkes http://hillofsound.blogspot.com/ with “write a 500 words from the viewpoint of a fed up, stressed out superhero.”

Today’s song is Rilo Kiley’s Silver Lining. Lyrically it doesn’t quite match but feel of the song is good for the story. It’s a late night, relaxed, what the heck just happened kind of tuner. Here’s 2007′s Silver Lining by Rilo Kiley.

“

The Sun, The Moon and The Stars

Last time with Helene Troy: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2011/10/12/justagirl/

On the train, Helene looked in her backpack and found a notepad and a broken pencil with just enough lead to write a few sentences. A melody wandered through her head. She clumsily sounded it out, “num nuh do dah oh, wah bah dum dah.” It wasn’t working. She and Sadie could strum out the melody on acoustic guitars at Mickey’s Bar & Grill later, Helene thought.  She scribbled lyrics.

“It’s my dream not yours, you can’t hate something that cures, the disease that wakes me at midnight, burning up from white hot light, that leaves me with scars. I’m not asking for much. I just want the sun, the moon, and stars.”

Helene put the jagged pencil to her forehead. She watched strands of brown hair fall over her hand. She moved the pencil behind her left ear and grinned coyly. The train stopped and she got off a few blocks from Mickey’s. Helene sat on a dusty silver bench next to a trash can. She wrote again.

“failure means doing nothing at all. It’s ridiculous to say music is my call. But I live to play, I can’t deny. Maybe I shouldn’t do something that makes me cry. I’m sick of the struggle. I’m sick of the bars. I’m not asking for much. I just want the sun, the moon, and the stars.”

Helene dialed Mickey’s.

“Hey, I’m going to work through my first break. I’m coming in a few minutes late. I have to do something really major. Bye.”

Helene walked up to the street and down 37th about two blocks. She excitedly opened the door to Ajax Tattoo & Piercing.

“I want the sun, the moon and the stars in black and white on my left wrist. I want to see it when I play guitar.”

*****blogger’s note****

This is a new story episode of The Ballad of Helene Troy. The rest of the story, so far, can be found here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/ This episode is my response to my friends at http://www.writeonedge.com

Red Writing Hood – Tattoos

This week we asked you to write a piece – fiction or creative non-fiction – in which a tattoo figures prominently. We wanted you to explore the many facets of tattoos: why someone would get them, what the meaning was, what the tattoo says about them. Word limit was 300.

Today’s song is mood music for what Helene was going through. I’m not an Augustana fan. They’re ok. I liked Stars and Boulevards when it came out about five or six years ago. It sort of fits here. Plus, I haven’t herad it in a while. Weird how you think of songs, sometimes? Here’s Augustana’s Stars and Boulevards.