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Every Day Is Exactly The Same
Pencil to screen and back again
Each day, every night, I translate the voices
Post about them, about me where my mind’s been
The days I stop, I regret my choices
Prompts, ideas and ways to reveal
I leap at the chance to show more
Call it addiction, it seems like a wheel
That never stops turning, my mind’s at war
I think what I’m trying in this peculiar way
Is as long as I keep writing, I’ll own my name
I’m the maker of the music i wish to play Every day is something, it just always seems the same.
****blogger’s note****
This is a a little something different for two prompts. Trifecta Writing wanted a poem in 333 words, 3 lines or 3 stanzas. http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/ The Lighting and The Lightning Bug wanted me to speed write for ten minutes. I originally wrote this a few weeks ago, hated it, then rewrote it over ten minutes. http://thewriteandthewrongword.blogspot.com/2012/05/flicker-of-inspiration-52-speed-writing.html This will eventually be turned into a Helene troy song.
Today’s song is about my anxiety disorder. Don’t interpret the lyrics literally. But Trent Reznor’s captures mental illness well,in this song, Here’s Nine Inch Nails Every Day Is Exactly The Same.
Lipstick and Bruises
Last time with Helene Troy: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2012/02/24/slither/
“Stop, stop, stop!”
The manager held his hands in front of his body, palms showing, with a grimaced face. Helene rolled her eyes and strummed several chords on her electric guitar. It produced loud feedback. The manager glared at Helene then addressed all three musicians.
“What’s going here?”
Sadie took a step toward the manager, gripping her bass guitar and forcing a smile. Her pale face reddened with embarrassment and Helene shot her a look of disapproval. She still spoke.
“What do you mean, I thought we sounded great. We tore through three songs really well?”
The manager glared at Helene as he answered Sadie.
“You sounded good but the feeling in this room is awful. You girls act like you’re punching the clock. So, air out whatever this is and get back to what I used to see and hear.”
Helene turned off her amplifier, unplugged her guitar, and leaned it against a stand. She walked three steps backward, placing herself directly between Sadie and Mara, then barked at the manager.
“You’re not our shrink. That contract we signed didn’t even say you had to be in the same room with us when we rehearsed. So, give us a few minutes while we talk as band and we’ll let you know when we’re ready for you to watch us.”
The manager wiped a bead of sweat from his large forehead and ran his small hands over his gelled black hair. He picked up three sheets of off-white paper and handed them to Sadie. Sadie took one, balanced her bass guitar against her waist and handed the other two pieces of paper to Helene.
“I’m going across the street to get something to eat. That your set list. You can move Slither to the top if you want, that sounded good. You’re playing three originals sprinkled throughout seven covers. If the crowd likes you, you can play whatever the hell you want for an encore.”
He strode to the loft’s front door. Helene shook her head and shouted.
“You took off the Ramona Gallery song and replaced it with Liz Phair? No fucking way!”
The manager turned around with dark, violent eyes but before he could respond, Mara stood behind her drum kit and wise-cracked.
“Maybe you should’ve stalked Liz instead. Then we’d all be happy, right now.”
Helene threw her paper to the floor and jumped at Mara. Mara’s foot was caught inside the drum pedal and Helene’s right forearm caught Mara on her right cheekbone. They tumbled behind the drums and Helene threw several punches. Screams of “crazy bitch” and “fuck you” flew around both of them. Helene felt the manager’s arms lock around hers and she let him pull her away. Blood trickled from Mara’s mouth. Sadie cried out.
“What is the matter with you two? A week ago we were a band! Now we’re three bitchy hating little girls! Just stop it!”
Tears streamed over Sadie’s freckled, pale face. Helene knew how emotional Sadie was and disliked fighting. She often refereed Helene and Darcy’s arguments. Helene pointed her left finger at Mara but before she could answer, Sadie yelled.
“No, it’s all of our faults, Leney! All of us! We don’t talk. I know Darcy fucked up but you shouldn’t have just taken that apartment. And Mara, what do you do? You take up for Darcy and she fucks you over every time! Who cares who Leney is seeing? She was late and she sucks for that but we sound great and we’ll sound great tonight!”
Sadie was bawling. The neck of Helene’s t-shirt was stretched and the strap of her bra showed. She pulled the t-shirt up to cover herself and turned to the manager.
“Seriously, dude, just give us a few minutes. I’ll call you and tell you when to come back.”
After the sound of the loft door closing, Helene walked over to Sadie and threw her arms around her. The embrace was full. Helene craned her neck and her green eyes glanced at Mara who licked blood off of her fingers. Mara joined them in the hug. Helene pulled away and sat down on speaker.
“We can talk about Darcy until we’re all blue in the damn face but it won’t change the fact she chose drugs over us. I’m just trying to survive, that’s all. I stumbled into this great guitar playing gig with Ramona and things happened. I haven’t even figured out what those things are. But I’m committed to Slipper Socks Medium.”
Helene look at her blue and white electric guitar, standing alone in the middle of the floor. She realized she’d just told a lie.
This is a new story episode of The Ballad of Helene Troy. Your can read the rest of the story, so far, here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/ I’ll laso linking up with Katie’s The Lightning and the Lightning Bug “Commitment” prompt. This fits well http://thewriteandthewrongword.blogspot.com/2012/02/flicker-of-inspiration-linkup-39.html
Today’s song is something I was listening to when I wrote most of this. The lyrics fit. It’s about a girl outgrowing a guy or in this case, a girl outgrowing her band. Here’s Lipstick and Bruises.
Hungry Heart
I was hungry. I just wanted a burrito or pizza or a hamburger. Then she called. She was starving for me. So I stopped thinking about food.
***blogger’s note*** – I wanted to participate in Katie’s The Lightning and The Lightning Bug’s “Hungry” prompt http://thewriteandthewrongword.blogspot.com/ but it ends today, Wednesday. All the other entries are about food. I wanted to throw something together about the other thing close to man’s heart or, well, below it. This is in tweet form because I liked how it looked in 140 characters. It says more than the 250 words I originally penciled.
Today’s song is more about The Ramones again than Bruce Springsteen. Joey Ramone and Bruce were friends. Joey asked him to write a song for his band. The Boss penned Hungry Heart then kept it for himself because he’s kind of doosh like that. I like the song. I would have preferred hearing it from Joey’s voice. Here’s Hungry Heart.
September
I’m getting my ass kicked by a calendar. I jab, the dates undercut. I cover up, the days keep wailing. I’m on the ropes and I’m the dope. September is abusing me for the championship belt.
August 30th – Lyla aka Bug aka my 8 year old daughter’s birthday. Due to the agreement the state of Georgia made with me and her birth mother, I get to see her about 12 to 13 days a month (not including 4 weeks of vacation and an awesome holidays schedule…it’s a 50/50 deal). This means we have to schedule things two weeks in advance so that she can take part in certain things with her sisters, cousin, Bobina mom, and myself.
September 1st – My dad’s birthday. He started texting last month. He’s 62. Yes, it’s weird, but, it does save time and makes for some great sarcastic remarks.
September 5th – My late grandfather’s birthday. He would be 87. He left us in 2006. I think about him every day. I’m a week late visiting his newer home. I’m going there this morning when I get a break. This day is also the five year anniversary of my divorce. So bitter meets sweet in a big way.
September 10th – My birthday…already blogged about.
September 11th – already blogged on, but it’s impossible to forget those memories. Just a terrible day.
September 12th – my youngest daughter, Carly aka The Goose turns 7.
September 14th – I start traveling to Pennsylvania for a new project. It isn’t Philly, or Pittsburgh, it’s Bucks County. Glamourous life I lead.
September 18th – Tay Tay, the teenager, starts competition cheerleading. She’s nursing ( and when I say nursing I mean milking Bessie the cow) a sprained ankle, anxiety about being a flyer (the cheerleader that gets thrown in air), and struggling with math. At least it’s not meth.
In between these dates I am parenting (poorly yesterday), working (a lot more lately), rewriting the robot story, writing Helene, getting ready for Nanowrimo (writing a novel in 30 days), the start of football season – Roll Tide and Let’s Go Jets!, and oh yeah, being Bobina’s husband.
I took some steps to be better. I broke up with google+. She just wasn’t there for me emotionally. She was like the hipster poetry reading girlfriend that you find out has nothing but empty books on her shelf.
I’m taking the tv out of the little girls’ room. They are getting up in the middle of the night and watching it and thus being ill as Real Housewives of Atlanta later in the day.
I’m finishing the robot story and Helene Troy by the end of December. I will then submit them to people who can tell me if they’re worthy of something. Expect Helene to get self published, worst case scenario.
This month is always crazy. The good news is, I’m getting my prescriptions refilled tomorrow.
Let’s make some happy, boys and girls.
Today my youngest daughter, the blonde Princess, Carly aka The Goose turns 7. We’ve been celebrating for two days. She spent her birthday money on stuffed animals, new boots, and a vampire book. She lives in her own world, we’re just paying rent.
Today’s song is something I used to dance around with in my bedroom as a kid in the 70s and early 80s. Earth, Wind and Fire made some great songs, but this is their best. Honestly if this doesn’t make you feel better for at least 5 minutes, you have no soul, at all. This is September by Earth, Wind & Fire. Dig the outfits…and the horns.
Thrash Unreal
“Yeah, we’re behaving. John wanted to wind down and get something to eat after the concert. We’re at Waffle House. I’m going to order some eggs and hashbrowns, then take him back to his hotel. I love you too, bye,”
“Checking in with the boss?”
“Dude you did the same thing in the bathroom, don’t tell me any different.”
“Ha! Yeah, she asked me if I was still upright since it’s 4 hours past my bedtime.”
“Yeah, well, my wife knew you and Pearl Jam being in town at the same time was a greater phenomena than Halley’s Comet so she insisted I go to the show and stay out all night. Of course that means I have kid duty and 123 chores tomorrow.”
“You mean today, slick. It’s 2 o’clock in the morning. It’s zombie stripper time right now. Speaking of which, look who just got off of the main stage two booths over.”
“Dude, that’s someone’s daughter. I bet her story is heart breaking.”
“What? Living in a house full of women has made you a Lifetime Network candy ass. She’s a stripper.”
“I see it different and keep your voice down. Fiver says that girl had a bad home life, got screwed over by a boyfriend or seven, and is just trying to get by or least maintain her gutter level existence. You have a son. You better be teaching him that treating girls well is what prevents Sierra grinding it out for three songs.”
“What would you do if one of your daughters ended up liked that girl over there?”
“After I beat you senseless for asking the question, I’d consider her lot in life my fault. Respect for women is the difference between working for tips from drunks and being the first female President, which one of my 3 daughters will be. Somebody or a collection of somebodies failed that girl.”
“Tom, you know you bummed out a really good conversation about tits and ass, right?”
“Eh, I’d rather talk about Pearl Jam’s encores. My ears are still ringing.”
“I think we just had a boring grown up moment, maybe we should ditch the waffles and go get arrested, like the old days.”
“As awesome as that sounds, I’m starving and my wife and I did the budget for the month the other day. I don’t have enough in the bank for bail money and a rock concert. “
**********blogger’s note**********
This is my contribution to Katie’s The Lightning and the Lightning Bug http://thewriteandthewrongword.blogspot.com/ prompt “Talk it Out”. The assignment was write a scene or story using only dialogue. John is in regular type, Tom is in bold. This is all inspired by today’s song by Florida punk band Against Me! One of my favorite tunes of the past 10 years is Thrash Unreal. It’s about the type of girl Tom and John see in the diner booth. She’s every father’s nightmare but also a cautionary tale of how she got there. This song is brutally awesome but the lyrics are raw and real. Enjoy.
