Drain You

Nirvana front man Kurt Cobain committed suicide in 1994.

I woke up this morning sad, but fully aware, so I went for a run around my neighborhood. I tapped the buttons on my iPhone music library until the Nirvana songs came on and jogged as hard as I could until my middle-aged gut gave up. It didn’t seem like twenty years since Kurt Cobain died until I realized that I could run longer back then listening to his music on a Walkman.

The top search phrase for this blog is Kurt Cobain Sycophant. Sometimes, you just have to be who are and play the hits. As much as I wanted to do as he and his band did on the MTV Unplugged Special in 1993 and play covers, rarities, and unusual songs, I miss him too much not to bring my usual game.

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In five days, the living members of Kurt’s band, Nirvana, as well as his widow, Courtney Love, will put aside years of acrimony to be on hand in Brooklyn’s Barclays Center to accept induction of the group into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Nirvana, and Kurt’s memory, will be forever enshrined. To many music fans or the casual observer this caps two decades of chatter about the man Rolling Stone Magazine once ridiculously called “a spokesman for a generation”.

He was small, moody, weird, and cared about and sang for society’s underdogs. I identified with all of it. But his suicide twenty years ago, today, April5th, ended rock stars as heroes for me. As great as his music was, the fact now I know he was selfish, petty, a junkie and poor parent makes my admiration for him simplistic; confined to his art.

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I’ve lost a lot of friends and family. Together, we had personal memories full of inside jokes, intimate thoughts and fun. With Kurt, it’s very different.

The songs age well. I miss his articulate interviews, political positions, and unique perspective. But I stick with the music.

Grief can drain you, but when it’s for someone you didn’t really know, you rejuvenate through what they left behind. Kurt gave plenty for me to remember. I miss him now, as much as I did then, thanks to it all.

 

I wrote two books. They got good reviews. The third one, a sequel to the first, Woman Of Troy, is on the way, very soon.

The Ballad of Helene Troy, an underdog story about a female musician in New York City, and Soul To Body, about an ex-1990s guitar player trying to raise his teenage daughter after the death of his wife, her mother, are available, digitally, on Amazon.com for your kindles, and in paperback from Lulu.com

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Marigold

Any therapist worth a minimum of $50 an hour will say that talking through it helps you heal, but the stone cold truth is, I don’t think I have the right words to describe what The Walking Dead did to me last night with their episode “The Grove”. It’s like they punched me in the stomach and stole my lunch money. It’s been fifteen hours since the greatest show ever about the zombie apocalypse went off the air and I’m still winded. The rules of the internets dictate that I start this with *SPOILER ALERT*, because I didn’t watch last week’s show until right before this week’s so some of you are gripping your DVR controller. So, here we go, dudes, plot points are contained within.

all photos courtesy of AMC

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Let’s wash off the blood off our eyes and hearts of what the writers and producers put us through. The hour centered on Carol and Tyrese with their adopted brood of 3 girls, pre-teens, Lizzie and Mika, and baby Judith. They come along a Grove, it looks like Covington, Georgia, but I could be wrong. It was beautiful, the kind of place I played at one of my relative’s old farms growing up. I live right outside of Atlanta, where the show is filmed.  Anyway, the place they find has it all, a place to cook, garden, plenty of water, and little to no walkers aka zombies. But there’s a killer in their midst and well, okay, let’s not be coy, it’s bat crap crazy Lizzie.

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Throughout the four seasons of The Walking Dead, man’s humanity among mass inhumanity and vice versa is the theme explored over and over. But in the past few episodes we’ve watched more about what being on the run and beheading the re-animated dead can do to kids, like Carl, Lizzie, Mika, and will one day do to baby Judith. Mika and Carl have turned into warriors, perfectly capable of icing, axing, shooting, stabbing, and killing things that are dead, while maintaining some civility toward the living. But Lizzie, as we say in the south, bless her heart, her wired got smoked. She doesn’t seem to mind killing the living and her affinity for the zombies is straight up creepy and completely wrong.

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Carol is the most complex character on The Walking Dead. Her Facebook relationship profile has “it’s complicated” in every column. She appeared to us for the first time in season 1 a battered wife, so timid she could barely speak. Her brutish, abusive husband eventually dies. Then supposedly the real Carol shows up. But not really. Her stark realism of “I do what has to be done” isn’t appreciated by anyone other than Daryl. They almost get a romance started when a flu overtakes the prison everyone calls home. To save hundreds of lives, including Tyrese’s kinda sorta girlfriend, Karen, she kills Karen and another infected with the super flu person. She’s banished from the zombiepocalypse cool kids despite teaching the children how to read, write, make dinner, and kill walkers like there’s no tomorrow, because, most of the time, there isn’t one. But ol’ Carol gets redemption but not really, yet. She meets back up with Tyrese and the youngins and what happens? Crazy Lizzie and in progress Mika.

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What happened in the last 15 minutes will be talked about for years. The Walking Dead has been setting bars, leaping over them, and resetting more for a while. Every mistake has consequences on The Walking Dead. Carol and Tyrese left Lizzie, Mika, and Judith alone. They come back and Lizzie is covered in Mika’s blood with a harangue of “see, it’s going to be okay when she comes back”, meaning reanimated as a pre-teen walker. Uh, no, Lizzie. That won’t happen. Carol and Tyrese know what has to go down. Carol’s words, “she can’t be around people” are the new “soylent green is people” of this generation. Well, that and when Carol takes Lizzie out back to “pick flowers” for now dead Mika’s memorial.

“Just look at the flowers.”

That’s what Carol says to Lizzie. Try saying that to your kids this weekend at the park if your knees buckle and your stomach knots.

The good news is they spared Judith, for now.

Let’s be straight about one thing. If Melissa McBride, the actress who plays Carol, isn’t on the red carpet in Los Angeles in the fall with an Emmy nomination, they should cancel acting awards, forever.

What did The Walking Dead do to us last night? They showed us that anything is possible when a TV show isn’t JUST a TV show. I can’t wait for next week. If I can recover.

Just listen to this song that’s not really about flowers.

Here’s the Nirvana.

I wrote two books. They got good reviews. The third one, a sequel to the first, Woman Of Troy, is on the way, next month.

The Ballad of Helene Troy, an underdog story about a female musician in New York City, and Soul To Body, about an ex-1990s guitar player trying to raise his teenage daughter after the death of his wife, her mother, are available, digitally, on Amazon.com for your kindles, and in paperback from Lulu.com

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2014 Rock Hall – Twisted Mixtape Tuesday

The announcement came down late yesterday afternoon that Nirvana, KISS, Peter Gabriel, Hall and Oates, Cat Stevens, and Linda Ronstadt will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. This is their best class in a long time with five acts getting in long after they should have and one of my favorite bands of all-time getting their nod in their first chance of eligibility. With No Kurt Cobain and a Parkinson’s stricken and thus unable to sing anymore, Linda Ronstadt involved, I expect few dry eyes during the ceremony. For my Twisted Mixtape Tuesday playlist for my friends Jen and Kristi aka @jenkehl and @findingninee, I’ll feature tunes from the six acts. They aren’t necessarily my favorite songs from them but ones that would make a great mixtape.

The First Cut Is The Deepest – Cat Stevens. Yes, Steven Georgiou aka Cat Stevens aka Yusuf Islam he wrote this, not Rod Stewart. The ultimate emo anthem of lost first love came from the British coffee-house scene of the mid 1960s. The lyrics are outstanding and the chorus is universal.

Blue Bayou – Linda Ronstadt. Roy Orbison’s song was thought to be untouchable. Then came Linda. She turned it into her signature song with that amazing voice, huge heart, and country rock arrangement. This is what talent sounds like.

Red Rain – Peter Gabriel. The composition is terrific and Gabriel’s restrained vocal lifts the lyrics. It shows his artistic prowess and his ability to make melodic pop songs with great depth.

Rich Girl – Hall and Oates. I’m including this one because as an 8-year-old I got to walk around singing/saying the word “bitch” and it was considered art. Written about an ex-boyfriend of Daryl Hall’s then girlfriend, Sara Allen, they changed the lyrics from rich boy to rich girl and made one heck of a torchy pop tune.

Nothing To Lose – KISS. Before they became the gross grand poohbahs of pop grandiosity, KISS was your basic, straight ahead, hard-working, gritty, kick-ass New York City rock and roll band. I miss them this way. Nothing To Lose is from their self-titled debut album and the first single they ever released. It still works. And almost makes me want to put on makeup.

You Know You’re Right – Nirvana. One of Kurt’s last known compositions, recorded just before his death and unreleased until 2002. It went through 4 different titles, was performed as You’ve Got No Right by his wife’s band, Hole, and shows all of Nirvana’s angst-driven power.

I’ll be writing a column for my other site, Raised On The Radio http://www.raisedontheradio.com on Thursday of this week about the rock hall inductees. Expect lots of words and other videos of their other songs. Maybe Gene Simmons will read it, print it out, and sell it for $500 a pop.

Stuff your stockings with my books:

The Ballad of Helene Troy, an underdog story about a female musician in New York City, and Soul To Body, about an ex-1990s guitar player trying to raise his teenage daughter after the death of his wife, her mother, are available, digitally, on Amazon.com for your kindles, and in paperback from Lulu.com

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100 Word Song – Lovebuzz

I really enjoyed everyone’s take on Melissa choice of Wrong Number by The Cure last week. It left open to so many interpretations because of the sparse, opaque lyrics. I really liked liquid poet and seablackwithink’s posts. So, Leeroy has lined them up for the first two weeks of October to pick 100 word songs. This week belong to him. This is the 24th anniversary of me discovering one of my favorite bands of all-time, Nirvana.

The vinyl LP has a coffee cup stain on it, I remember that much. Nirvana’s first record, Bleach, was ignored by everyone  at our student radio station save for me, and our music director, Pat. He was seven years older than my 19, at the time. Pat loved metal, from Black Sabbath to King Diamond to Metallica. But he was very into this obscure band from the Northwest with a new release on Sub Pop. At the time, my music snobbery was in full blown overload DefCon 1. It had to be punk or college radio alternative or something Top 40 would run from. Nirvana’s Bleach fit all of these categories and I couldn’t get enough of the besmirched record. The single my radio station played was a cover of a Dutch band, Shocking Blue, called Lovebuzz. Kurt Cobain does a great job with it, infuses humor and blistering guitar, and three minutes or so later, you feel like you’d heard something completely and had a great time. Nirvana became my Olive, in many different ways until 1994. Oh, and it fits my story.

For my 100, we go to the back seat of the Cutlass with two other 19-year-olds, Silas and Olive and my merging short story, Light of Day.

Knuckles rapping on the car window were followed by a female yell.

“Sorry, y’all! Come to the house! I’ll make breakfast!”

Silas’ embarrassed eyes stared at a naked, smiling Olive draped over him.

“Relax, honey. Zola and I grew up together. See her hair? Girl was doing the same thing we were, earlier.”

They dressed then emerged from the car.

Zola left the door open. They walked into a large living room housing an entertainment center with a 40 inch television. He leaned into Olive and whispered.

“You’re the queen of my heart.”

She jogged into the kitchen toward Zola.

My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog

https://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=2757&action=edit&message

As always you have seven days from NOW to write 100 words inspired by Nirvana’s cover of Lovebuzz. Track down their Bleach album. It’s great. Don’t forget to link up to Leeroy;s buddy’s Mr. Linky then tell all of your friends, family, frenemies, followers, and acquaintances via the medias that are social. Thanks for playing 100 word song.

Are you looking for something interesting and music driven to read? I have two for you. My books, The Ballad of Helene Troy, an underdog story about a female musician in New York City, and Soul To Body, about an ex-1990s guitar player trying to raise his teenage daughter after the death of his wife, her mother, are available, digitally, on Amazon.com for your kindles, and in paperback from Lulu.com

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One Alive Kool Thing – Twisted Mixtape Tuesday

The best posts just happen. They dance off your fingertips, the automatic editor works, and right before you hit publish, you have hundreds of great words, pictures, videos, and feelings that will transfer to the reader. This one isn’t like that. In fact, it’s the most belabored one I’ve ever been involved with because it concerns an era of music that should be titled “Lance’s Damn Wheel House”, Twisted Mixtape Tuesday 1990s, Part One for http://www.jenkehl.com ‘s weekly blogging dance party.

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As I started researching what to write and teach you all about, I found myself with four different genres, nineteen different artists, and twenty-seven songs. Not even I, a music junkie, would read that.

For me, the music that changed my life, forever, happened between the years 1988 to 1994. Everything I like, now, I found during those years, and I still obsess over today.

Before I list a few songs and videos. I want you to know that in 1988, Sonic Youth’s Daydream Nation, Pixies’ Surfer Rosa, then in 1989, Beastie Boys Paul’s Boutique and Stone Roses debut album meant a lot to me. I played all 4 records hundreds of times. They stay in my car or in heavy rotation in my computer all the time, today. All 4 albums are revolutionary in production, sound, style, guitar-playing, and prompted other bands to steal from their brilliant ideas.

The early 1990s saw music from bands with ideas and deep beliefs. Ideas like writing pro-choice on your arm, blasting the horrible sexism that permeated hair metal and rock in general, and promoting racial harmony like when Anthrax worked with Public Enemy. I miss that time. It’s dormant, now…at least the activism.

Kool Thing – Sonic Youth, the legendary indie rock band broke down, signed to a major label for their 1990 release, Goo. The best song came from bassist Kim Gordon who essentially killed the pretention of 1980s rock stars by taking a bad experience interviewing arrogant and sexist LL Cool J, and delivering a guitar blaze of smart-assness and perverse, hipster coolness. I wish Kim Gordon had married Kurt Cobain. Think of how the world had been a better place.

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http://youtu.be/SDTSUwIZdMk

Personal Jesus – Depeche Mode – I didn’t “get” the 1980s electronic indie darlings until they put some guitars in the group, wrote lyrics on their 1990 album, Violater, that were both provocative and alternative, and suddenly I was an admirer of the risk taking Dave Gahan and his heroin fueled songs about alienation and gay rights, a year before Seattle happened.

Enter Sandman – Metallica – Testosterone has been the fuel of rock since Elvis and Chuck Berry. A few years before Metallica cut their hair and sucked, they put out their mainstream pop hard rock album and it rocked, with a black cover of a coiled snake and song after song of ass kicking music. When you hear the brutal rhythm section of Sandman, you know trouble’s coming and you don’t even try to stop it.

Seattle Reign:

Everyone else will play these bands and I write about and play the songs of Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, Screaming Trees, Bikini Kill, Hole, Candlebox, and more. They changed the game in 1991 and made wool caps, bad attitudes, flannel, and smack so cool, we all couldn’t get enough. I’m going to show four videos of songs I listened to constantly and still do.

Lithium – Nirvana

Rusty Cage – Soundgarden

Rooster – Alice In Chains

Alive – Pearl Jam

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Siva – Smashing Pumpkins – Gish isn’t their best album but it has Siva so it will always be a good record. The Pumpkins were doing their stuff in Chicago, well before the Seattle snobs put their records out and yet, you can see how the scenes traded influences. This is just a great song.

One – U2 – Believe it or not, the biggest band in the world with the lead singer who gets nominated for Nobel Peace Prizes was about to break up in early 1991. Achtung Baby, their excellent album, was almost abandoned due to creative conflicts within the band. One, a song Bono has written for an AIDS benefit was reworked, slowed down, and helped the four Irish dudes find their fastball, again. The lyric “Have you come here for forgiveness, have you come to raise the dead, have you come here to play Jesus to the lepers in your head”, shatters the idea that rock music is frivolous and not poetic. This is one of my favorite songs, period.

This was to hard. I’ve left out so much and these songs cover 1990 through 1992. Next week, we talk about Britpop, hip hop and Rage. Part two may put me in a mental facility.

Looking for a fiction book about music that will fire you up? Try The Ballad of Helene Troy, available digitally on amazon/kindle http://www.amazon.com/The-Ballad-Helene-Troy-ebook/dp/B00BJOMM84/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1374021856&sr=8-1 on in paperback from Lulu.com or a signed copy straight from Pound Publishing Headquarters like this one:

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Let’s So Crazy – Twisted Mixtape: 1980s, Part 2

Participating in my friend Jen’s Twisted Mixtape Tuesdays has reinvigorated my blogging juices. I think she should be on infomercials at two a.m. with “Blogging Bounce House!”

“Tired of strict deadline writing prompts? Sick of overdone blog memes? Lost your thrill of writing off the cuff about your kids? Here’s Jen’s Blogging Bounce House, it’s music! List your favorite songs in loose themes and imagine your friend’s jumping, flipping, and throwing up after five minutes from exhaustion and nostalgia!”

Great, another writing friend making cash while I toil away with my dark “art”…….

This week is the second part of  ’80s. Since most of the second half of the decade was about mega artists like Madonna, Bruce Springsteen, Michael Jackson or Prince putting out massive amounts of product and MTV started to suck, fast, I decided to get away from genre and talk about the coming 1990s storm. I’m listing seven songs, two from the last year, 1989, and see if you can hitch your giddy-up on the harbinger of hair metal and party rap wipe outs courtesy of, well, these sonic gems. This is a learning blog; a cynical, sarcastic, whiny, learning blog. Let’s go crazy, literally.

1) princeletsgocrazy Let’s Go Crazy – Prince. Of the 1984 commercial behemoths - Mike Jackson’s Thriller (it was released in 1983 but dominated the first few months of 1984), Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the U.S.A., and Purple Rain by the Mighty Mite of Minnesota, Prince’s record’s the most artistic. The song that captured all the Led Zepplin bombast, Beatles pop fury, and Prince’s Princeness is Let’s Go Crazy. From the preacher start “Dearly beloved we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life” (my wife has been instructed to play this at my funeral, Hold her to it) to the guitar virtuoso end, Prince showed all of his skills. This song’s been covered and admired by many artists. I wish I had a shrink called Dr. Everythinggonnabealright

http://www.myvideo.de/watch/7706458/Prince_Lets_Go_Crazy

2 )  thesmithshowsoon How Soon Is Now – The Smiths (1985) I love this song, riff, guitarist, and these lyrics. It’s been called the Stairway to Heaven of the 1980s. I agree. If you can’t relate to this: “You shut your mouth how can you say I go about things the wrong way I am human and I need to be loved  just like everybody else does” then you’re at the wrong blog, and Morrissey and Johnny Marr hate you. The greatest riff ever? Close.

3) beastieboysnosleeptill No Sleep Till Brooklyn – Beastie Boys (1986). Rick Rubin, producer of the white rap punks from New York, hired 80s metal God, Kerry King of Slayer. to play thunderous riffs and solos, then mixed them with the brash nature of King Ad Rock (adam horovitz) Mike D (Michael Diamond) and MCA (the late great Adam Yauch). The merge of rock and hip hop wasn’t smooth until this song and Aerosmith and Run DMC’s Walk This Way during this same year, 1986. ‘Brooklyn brought cultures together to buy records, wear clothes, and force decaying rockers to get a little more fly, yo.

4) u2wherethestreetss Where The Streets Have No Name – U2 (1987). Until their breakthrough fifth record, The Joshua Tree, was released in the summer of ’87, U2 was known for an earnest Live Aid performance, protest songs, and lead singer, Bono’s, hair. They were largely ignored by top 40 and critics were split on their importance. Then the four Dublin lads conquered the states. Their love letter, sort of, to America begins with the opening number, a slow build to bombast. It’s an American rock song done by Irish dudes. And they kill it. They reinvented Arena Rock and gave it a global sheen. From Bono’s over-annunciation “iiiiii WAAAANNNTTT TOOOO RUNNNN” to The Edge’s quicksilver guitar riffs. ‘Streets is a classic in more ways than “One”. That’s a hint for next week.

5) guns-n-roses-poster Sweet Child O’ Mine – Guns N Roses (1988). L.A. Sleaze and pop metal or hair band music lasted a full decade. It started from the ashes of glam, punk, and metal in the early 1980s and stuck around till, well, you’ll see, soon. To dismiss 10 years of stuff is foolish. Guns’ owed more to the New York Dolls, The Sex Pistols, David Bowie, and Lou Reed than Poison or RATT or Warrant. They were talented junkies who were into chaos as much as tunes. AND they sold millions. The pop hit from their debut Appetite For Destruction would’ve worked in any era because Slash conjures the hell from his Gibson and Axl sings like he’s going to die during the solos. ‘Child is a good song that still works and it reminds me of any and all good and bad memories of my senior year of high school and freshman one of college. I survived them because of this crazy song. Try and NOT snake dance. Where do we go now?

6) publicenemylyricssd  Fight The Power – Public Enemy (1989) – Social consciousness moved beyond the touchy-feelyness of Live Aid. In the revolutionary mics of New York hip hop pioneers, Public Enemy, socially aware music sounded like more than Malcolm X than Martin Luther King Junior. It paved the way for so many artists. Written for Spike Lee’s groundbreaking film, Do The Right Thing, lead emcee Chuck D spat rhymes that shocked and excited Americans of all races. “Elvis was a hero to most but he never meant s*** to me you see straight up racist that sucker was simple and plain motherf*** him and John Wayne”. I wasn’t the same after that. Neither were most “awake” music fans.

7) nirvanaaboutagirlsd About A Girl – Nirvana (1989) The story is as good as the record. An album made for $606.17 from the pocket a guitar player who didn’t play on Bleach and was later kicked out of Nirvana who’d go on to become a war hero. The glum chums of bummed told us what was about to happen and we weren’t listening. Here’s where I show my annoying hipster card. I got a copy of Nirvana’s first album, Bleach, from the radio station I worked at because no one else cared. They all thought Soundgarden and or Alice in Chains was the next big thing. Kurt Cobain spoke my language while everyone else was giggling acid-washed. I was just miserable enough at the time to get what he was sayin’ and playin’. Sometimes you get one right. This is my “hey teacher, I did my homework!” moment. I’ve had very few. And this is a great song. Thanks for the 600 bucks Jason Everman and thanks for the service to your country as an Army Ranger. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2354233/Jason-Everman-Guitarist-kicked-Nirvana-Soundgarden-war-hero.html

Go see Jen and our weirdo music loving fake family at http://www.jenkehl.com and the Twisted Mixtape Tuesday link up. There’s great music and insight.

Also? While I finish the second book, get the first one. It’s music centered, too, about musician born at the beginning of this time, 1984, and her rise to stardom in New York City in 2008. The Ballad of Helene Troy is available, digitally, on amazon.com kindle, Good Reads, and http://www.smashwords.com. You can also get it in paperback from Lulu.com or Pound Publishing Headquarters, signed, like this one: bookpicturesahdddddddddddddddddddddddddkcfb

Lithium

Thirty-three words? It takes that many to describe the stone face that mocks me in the mirror. But, if thirty-three makes you happy, then it makes me happy, too.  I’m feeling the pills.

*****blogger’s note****

This is my personal response for Trifextra’s weekend 33 words. http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/ The word lithium comes from the Greek word lithos, which means
stone  This weekend, we want you to give us a thirty-three response using the word stone as one of your thirty-three words.  You can use any
definition of the word
that you’d like, but we are specifically looking for
serious, well-conceived entries.

Today’s song is self-explanatory. I don’t take Lithium, but I know what it means. I take something else. Here’s the Nirvana.

On A Plain

When the shadows come at me, I fight. They’re both genders, all tones, they wage a dirty personal war, and they always outnumber. When the battle becomes bloody, I must retreat. There’s never a ceasefire but sometimes there’s a lull. It’s a place between the high and low, a way for me to be to be corrected. The fixers dance on the tree root. I pick ones that leave me momentarily neutered and spayed. Then, there’s no highest mountain. I’m out of the lowest valley. It’s a lonely battlefield. I’m Lance and I’m supposed to be in love with myself. I’m on a plain.

*****blogger’s note*****

Yesterday was a bad day, for me, personally. I listened to this Nirvana song and saw Trifecta’s weekend challenge http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/  Write between 33-333 words incorporating the following three photos.

Being a “Kurt Cobain sychophant, here’s the Nirvana with On A Plain.

Come As You Are

It’s been a while since I wrote anything that made anyone angry. But about 80 percent of you that come here and honor me with your keyboards are going to get really ticked off.

There’s something the “dashboard” of my blog that allows me to click and see who reads My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog. It shows where the comments, likes, and reblogs come from and I know that eight out of ten people who hang here are female. Well, guess what ladies, I’m a dude, I have testosterone, and while I love you,  I think some things you do, say, think, and promote are craphouse rat crazy.

My house’s doorbell rings a lot, every day. Most of the time it’s little boys ranging in age of five to sixteen, wanting to talk and play with my three daughters, who are eight, nine, and sixteen. A few days ago, one of those boys, who rings my doorbell more than most, shows up on my front porch wanting to talk to Tay. He’s been her friend who is a boy (I don’t use the other word because it will cause robot circuitry to malfunction and people will get hurt) for over two and a half years. He and Tay have been to two homecoming dances, numerous school functions, and even went to Disney World together (with the rest of our family). So they know each other well. Yet, there he was, with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a balloon in the other. He was wearing a Yankees baseball cap, shorts, loafers, a dress shirt, a tie, and a sports coat. As my daughter bounded the stairs she caught me staring at the kid and jumped in the middle of us, swooning.

Really, Tay? A week ago you two were talking about not going to homecoming and now this is a romantic moment even with John Cusack stalking, I mean standing outside Ione Skye’s house, holding a boombox with Pete Gabriel’s In Your Eyes (the light, the heat) blaring?

A few days later, I come home and Tay and and her mother show me pictures of one of her cheerleading friends, whose friend who is a boy delivered her a huge cupcake (I swear Cupcake Wars is the zombie apocalypse) with a tiara on it saying something like, “every Princess deserves a Prince, let me take you to Narnia err homecoming”. Of course the twitter, the book of face and instagram blew up with these pictures. Instagram had to be involved, it was a photograph of food.

Here’s the kicker, and the one that will prove my thesis.

http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/lookout/customs-investigates-alleged-helicopter-homecoming-invitation-144834777.html

A boy, who really is just a friend to a girl, who appears to be really full of herself, had his Customs official daddy fly his helicopter (against regulations) and drop a Teddy Bear to the Ms. Whatever, asking her to homecoming. She gave him a lukewarm “sure”, then the kid bragged on the twitter “wait til you see what I do for prom”.

I hear the words oozing from my eighty percent female audience now, “Oh Lance, these gestures are so sweet and they honor women and you’re just a cynical butthole that needs to listen to Bon Jovi”. I love you all, but shut it.

What’s missing here is reality and actual communication. I did these acts. Well, I never had a helicopter, but I did other stuff, for women who eventually found more interest in dudes that did NOTHING.

I’m glad my daughter’s friend who is a boy, is a good kid that went the extra mile for her. But how about asking her like a man, not a Wal Mart paperback book.

What I’ve noticed in my children and their friends is they don’t do the small things with each other. They don’t talk, wonder, help, comfort or understand. They fly helicopters and make cupcakes, though!

Maybe my daughter and her friend will stay together and this latest romantic act will be a brilliant chapter in their lifetime together. But things like this tend to not last.

I’m romantic with my wife. The woman has jewelry she never wears because we’re busy working and taking care of kids. These boys (and girls) need to be taught communication so that relationships are more real.

*****blogger’s note****

Today’s song is the often misinterpreted Come As You Are by Nirvana. It’s about fake friendships. Turn it up.

Another One About A Girl

The broken street light cloaked her entrance into the Three Bears Motel. The clerk, a half-asleep dark-haired man in his early twenties, jumped to attention as a tall blonde with sexy blue eyes stood before him carrying a grey backpack and a coal-black suitcase. She gripped both like mama bear toting her cubs. She spoke in with a deep husk, either affected by sickness or bad habits.

“I need a room, smoking, and I’m paying cash, okay?”

The clerk found the proper form and punched in the number three on the key card reader. He smiled and tried to flirt.

“Wow, you’re probably the prettiest person I’ve ever seen check into this place. You must be from out-of-town.”

Her eyes stayed on the on the suitcase while her hands trembled like leaves in a March wind. The clerk, too young and clueless to see her state,  kept talking.

“So where ya from? I mean, well, I guess I could just read what you write on this paper.”

His goofy grin just pissed her off. She snapped.

“I’m paying cash, you don’t need to know anything else! Just give me the key card!”

He picked up the card and held it between his skinny fingers and snarled back at her.

“Montana state law says I must have a written record of every person staying in this hotel. So listen Goldilocks, I need this job. Make up a name. I don’t give a damn. But fill out the paperwork and go be a bitch in room three.”

She shot laser beams at ice blue hate through him. Her twitching left hand picked up a black ink pen and started writing. For that one cool, cruel night Goldilocks Jones from Las Vegas, Nevada was a guest of The Three Bears motel in Lincoln, Montana. The written record said so.

Goldilocks made her way to room three. The overwhelming odor of cigarette smoke, lysol, and despair was familiar. Two beds separated by a lamp on a nightstand populated the space. She sat her backpack on one bed and the dark suitcase on the other. Those items were more important than she was, she thought, as she sat in floor with her back to the nightstand. It felt right, whatever right was on this day.

She pulled off her dark blue hoodie, Her dirty, ripped blue jeans followed. Wearing only a faded Nirvana t-shirt and white panties she stood over the suitcase and swallowed hard.

“My whole pathetic life in one black box.”

Goldilocks opened it and tears flowed over her pale, gaunt face. Her hands shook even more as she examined its contents.

“I should’ve stayed in Vegas. This isn’t me, I’m not good girl, but I’m not a bad one, either.”

She moved over to the backpack and reached inside the front pocket. Three pill bottles were scooped up and she set them on the floor where she assumed the position of her back against the nightstand. She took a pill from each bottle. The first one was bitter, the second one was somewhat sweet, the third one had no taste, and she liked it best. Goldilocks closed her eyes and murmured.

“I need to dream something wonderful.”

The next time she opened them, three large men stood over her . Her dream was over. One of the men barked orders to the other two.

“Get the suitcase and whatever drugs she has in the backpack. I’ll take care of the Goldilocks that robbed our casino.”

Goldilocks whimpered.

“I’m sorry I stole the suitcase. I’m sorry for how I lived my life. “

The large man didn’t respond. One of the other men handed him the pill bottles. Goldilocks stared at the containers and responded.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take them all. Just let me have one more wonderful dream.”

****blogger’s note****

This is a very special Blossom err, episode of My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog. Trifecta writing asked for a take on the Goldilocks and The Three Bears. I’ve been writing some noir style stuff and I thought I’d try this. http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/

I’ve used Nirvana’s About A Girl before, but it was a sweet post about my daughters. I used the electric version. This time, since this is completely different, we’ll go with the threesome of Kurt, Dave and Krist, unplugged. Here’s About A Girl.