Tell me why.....

I have received a lot of comments about my last post, both online and by those who want to remain anonymous. Cowards. These words are directed towards those who choose to speak their minds yet remain nameless.

This occurs to me....a drunk driver or a drug addict behind the wheel of a car has a much greater chance of killing some innocent person than I do, owning a registered gun for self protection against someone who is threatening my life.

The drunk and the addict get sympathy...those poor, poor sick and misguided people. We have to understand their addiction and pray for them. I get called a killer and a war monger. Even though my owing a gun has NOTHING to do with war. Or with politics.

The drunk and the addict affect peoples lives every day...their family being the most devastated. Hopefully, NO ONE will ever be affected by the guns in my house.

I think a bit of Neil Young is in order.

Is it hard to make
arrangements with yourself,
When you're old enough to repay
but young enough to sell?

Janie's got a gun....

I'll probably get a lot of flack for this. My words are not directed to any one person in particular.

The shootings at Va Tech were a horrible thing. But as far as I could tell, a politician was not the one who bought the gun, or gave it to the killer. I am tired of all the blame being put on those who were NOT responsible. Should we execute the guy who sold the kid that gun? Should we blame the parents? All of you are such wonderful child raisers, your kid would never do anything like that, would they? Is the administration of the college responsible? Shouldn't they have had the wisdom to foresee this? After all, they are the ones who you gave responsibility to (and a whole lot of money) and entrusted them with your children. OF COURSE NOT.

Do the research. A hell of a lot more people are killed every year by drunk drivers. Good thing none of you ever got behind the wheel with a little (a lot) too much alcohol, or anything else, in your bloodstream. I can't make that claim. Maybe we should ban cars. Or are drunk driving fatalities the fault of the politicians too...they could have outlawed liquor.

The powers that be say that drugs are illegal. See any shortage of them? I don't. What makes you think it would work with gun control?

So when your daughter is getting raped, or your son is being carjacked because some fuckhead wants his car, and you have no way of defending yourself or protecting your child because the bad guy has a weapon and you don't, DON'T CALL ME. And DON'T CALL ME when your home gets invaded, and you can do nothing but watch yourself and your loved ones get the shit beaten out of them because the bad guy has a weapon and you don't. Maybe you can talk the criminals out of doing what they are doing. Use poetry to cajole them. Light candles and put on some Joan Baez...that should calm them down.

Guns don't kill people. People kill people. And sweethearts, that makes you and me the problem. We are people.

Nuff said. I need to go get a mop, and clean up all the blood from the bleeding hearts. And listen to some Aerosmith.

Make your own peace, babies, cos no one else is gonna do it for you.

I am just a monkey man.....

Glad you are a monkey woman, too.

This is Monty. Short for Montgomery.

He has been sitting in my studio for weeks, unfinished. It took a sharp knife and some Class 3 narcotics to whittle him down to something I could deal with. I couldn't get my head around the whole original torso/shoulder thing. And I needed to wait until the muse kicked in. She has been missing lately. Monkey butt inspiration does not come easy.

The tattoo is the chinese zodiac sign for monkey. And I suppose if you must have a monkey on your back, ink is not a bad option.

I have a sudden urge for a banana now . . . . you're so vain, I bet you think this song is about you.

Words by former bedmates Carly Simon and Mick Jagger.

Stone free .....

.....to do what I please.

One of the best gifts anyone can give me is a rock.

Mister Goes Away has brought them back from his adventures. The One Who Plays In Dirt carved a rune into one for me. One of The Little Imps brought me back a stone from Paris. He Who Obeys wore one of them around his neck when he traveled. My house is full of them. They are in the pockets of my jeans. Around my neck. On my desk. They are in the horse stalls. In the cars. On my altar in honor of the earth elementals.

I have no reason for this post. Perhaps its the drugs. I hurt my back. And I am a big believer in better living thru chemistry. Vicodin and Hendrix. Nice way to spend a rainy Sunday.

Baby got back

Ok. Mister Torso has been sleeping in my studio for weeks now, untouched. The epiphany came in the middle of the night, after thinking about something that happened yesterday morning...I need to attack it with a knife and cut it down. The shoulder part is just not working for me. All I want is the butt.

And once that is finished, I can start on a commission piece. Two paintings. Side by side. Reds, browns, golds...very abstract. At least that is what is in my head at the moment. (Actually, something else is in my head, but he's not here, so...)

My creative urges are not exactly surging lately. Surging urges.....hmmm. And I know from experience that unless I get back in the studio and make messes, I will suffer. And when I suffer, everyone suffers.

All that you suffer is all that you are.

Smashing Pumpkins

All of the ladies attending the ball...

I don't celebrate Easter. My holiday is Ostara. Google it if you don't know what that is.

So, no easter bunnies. No big feast on Lambchop for dinner. (I loved that puppet) Instead of an easter egg roll, I roll these little lovelies. They clink and clank and jingle with little bells inside.

So, darlings, celebrate the day as you will.

Please then remember and don't get too close,
to one special one, he will take your defenses and run.

Thank you, Mister Stills, for that sage advice. It has proven itself as truth more times than I can remember.

Scuse me while I kiss this guy....

I didn't mean to take up all your sweet time,
I'll give it right back one of these days.
And if I don't meet you no more in this world
Then I'll meet you in the next one and don't be late.

Cause I'm a voodoo chile.

Obvious, ain't it?

Wish I could take credit for the artwork.  Artist unknown.

Rock And Roll Hoochie Koo

Last nite I did something I have not done in years. Went to a bar with the express purpose of drinking beer and listening to some very loud rock and roll. And to dance with every man who was under 35.

Here is what I don't understand. For the majority of the music, men in ball caps were lined up at the bar, watching women dance with other women. Why is this? Why don't these men march right out there, interject themselves, and meet some of these lonely hearts who do not have a dance partner? And why don't these women ask these men to dance? I had no problem doing that..... Mister I Wouldn't Be Caught Dead In A Ball Cap doesn't dance.

Anyway, I had a kick ass time. I knew about a zillion people there, including the guitarist, who is my very best friend. And when I was not being Miss Twinkle Toes (with a partner of the opposite sex) I had the pleasure of watching all this amusement.

The bar scene...not much has changed in the close to four decades I have been experiencing it.

Lordy mama, light my fuse.