That truth being that I do it, I write this crazy late and then change the date so it appears to have been written 'on time'. This particular post you're reading right now was in fact written today before the time I want it to go live, but the one for Monday, April 7? I'm writing it after I schedule this one. I don't even care. It's how I'm running things over here. Now you know.
That said, Bad Bunny did a great job at his Tiny Desk performance and I just want to make sure you all saw it.
But also, here's my favorite video from this latest album:
I love this song because, well, it's beautiful and melancholy, but also, it reminded me of this poem I wrote once:
How do you not run out of new things to say?
I fell in love with someone who was on vacation
He was observing fake routines—
Breakfast-gym-coffee-tours
That I’d mistaken for his true self.
He’d sit at the bar reading classic Poe
And presidential biographies, and I
Confused posing with intellect
He sipped red wine quietly
Ate steak neatly
Smiled at toddlers in the hotel lobby; bent
To pet dogs on his afternoon walks
And I took his actions for truth, when really,
He was playing a part.
He was playing at: Leisure Man TM
Who: doesn’t check his bank account before splurging
Is meticulously coiffed + dressed on a Tuesday
Appreciates the finer things
Likes himself
I fell in love with someone who was hiding from another life.
He pretended to listen and care and know
What it meant to love and be loved
He began sentences with, “Perhaps a better way
To look at it…” to mask half-cooked theories and advocacies
For a devil that never asked for his help
He retired every night at 10pm,
‘to catch the evening news’
And never asked for too much—
I confused him with a proper gentleman
From another era
But, in fact, I fell in love with a man who’d
Taken a break from reality
And here we sit.
Not knowing what’s true.
Except—this is the bed that we made,
And we lie in it every night.
You're welcome.
Love & Balls, Jaded ----- en mi vida fuistes turista tú solo vistes lo mejor de mí y no lo que yo sufría te fuiste sin saber el porqué
Because if I don't dance these feelings out, you're going to see me on the six o'clock news, atop the clock tower downtown, picking off cops one at a time. Real talk.
Yeah I said it.
Play this on repeat and dance with me.
*smooches...trying to release this negative energy*
---------- I got nothing, man. just let me dance in peace.
Sometimes my honesty, disinterest, or introvert-ness is mistaken for unkindness. I promise you, I'm not as mean as you think I am. But in any case, I am consciously thinking about being a kinder person. I haven't tried it yet, but I'm thinking about it.
Here's a jumping-off point for all of us.
One day, I may even think all those pictures you post of your dog are cute. Or actually want to give someone proper directions when they interrupt the soca fete going on in my head on the subway. Or one day, I may actually acknowledge that my ex-husband is a human being with feelings that deserve to be cared after. Or not--let's not go completely crazy here!
Still, maybe a little kindness on my part will bring good energy back into my life. It can't hurt to try, right?
*smooches...thinking tomorrow I might say GOOD MORNING and mean it*
---------- or not. I have my period, so, you know...
Ever met someone who actually likes their job? I mean, putting aside the fact that they make me wear non-pajamas and leave my house in order to earn a paycheck, this gig I have, well, dare I say, I care about what I do? How many people can say this? I realized I felt this way, just now, and it made me want to dance.
There are a lot of things not-quite-right with me at the moment, but I'm working on not dwelling on that. Not saying it's going well--you know how I love a good woe-is-me session--but I'm working on it. So for now I'm going to focus on the fact that I love my job.
In September, I will have been here FOUR YEARS, copywriting and editing the shit out of things and getting paid for it. That's the longest I've worked anywhere. Look at me, being a grown up!
What's your favorite "happy dance" song?
*smooches...white-girl dancing all over your computer*
---------- I don't drink anymore, but if I did, I'd demand this song at a dive bar tonight while throwing back a few cold ones!
Don't care where we go
I don't care what we do
I don't care pretty baby
Just take me with you...
Sorry, y'all... I just had a Prince moment. He comes over me (nasty!) from time to time and I'll become obsessed with one of his songs to the point that I drive everyone around me insane.
I don't care if we spend the night at your mansion
I don't care if we spend the night on the town
All I want is 2 spend the night together
All I want is 2 spend the night in your arms
Recently it was "Take Me With U" by Prince.
(I had to post this Janelle Monae cover because y'all already know Prince ain't OK with his stuff being on YouTube!)
Damn that was a good song!!! Deny it, I dare you!
I have it on iTunes AND I have the vinyl; that one I play in my room when the babies are gone and it's just me and my thoughts.
Just take me with u
Oh wont u take me with u
Honey take me with u
I'm missing His Purple Majesty's pre-Jehovah days... did you know he won't even perform "Darling Nikki" anymore? Pure sadness.
*smooches...in a sweet, funky groove*
---------- dare I ask: what's you're favorite Prince song? Or maybe top 5 because who can choose just one?
YO! Why did my coworker introduce me to this song? It's a wrap, now, dawg. Come at me with any mamsy-pamsy problem, and I will start singing this in yo' face!
"I don't use the car anymore so I have to use public trans to take N around all weekend..." ::points to video::
"We're out of snack foods." ::points to video::
"I never get to see you anymore." ::points to video::
"Can we send this email out today?" ::points to video::
"Is it too late to sign up for the reading you're hosting tomorrow?" ::points to video::
You get the picture. MAN OH MAN it's gonna be a great spring at Casa Penzo...
*smooches...with no f*cks left to give*
---------- I feel so ALIVE, y'all!
If you haven't seen Dazed and Confused, you're a loser, because it's one of the funniest, funniest, funniest movies of all time! OF ALL TIME!
But I'm not here to talk about the movie (maybe later if I decide to start reviewing films again), I want to talk about the soundtrack: chock-full of classic rock, baby!!
I've been known to really get into a groove when "Rock n Roll Hoochie Koo" plays, and please, if you don't drop what you're doing and sing "Cherry Bomb" whenever it comes on, I truly have to question your reason for living. And I mean who hasn't written tear-stained diary entries to "Love Hurts" once or twice?
But this song, this goddamn Lynyrd Skynyrd song that just penetrates my soul and takes a hold of me every-fucking-time, is the absolute most perfect song to play while a movie is ending and the credits are rolling:
Tuesday's Gone - Lynyrd Skynyrd
Don't get me wrong, I like my films to have substance and be witty and well-written, acted and directed, but if it can ALSO have a bangin' soundtrack? Sheeeiiitttt that's the holy grail right there!
...
...
...
OK, OK, stop begging! I'll post a clip from the movie already. SHEESH!
(this is the classic Matthew McConaughey "Wooderson" scene)
*smooches...taking a break from soca*
---------- I need a bit of something new for a while now that Carnival season has died down
Even though I'm on a self-imposed man break, I miss the days when I was crushing on someone. Those honeymoon days, before you or s/he ruins the relationship, are so magical, you really do feel like you're floating on a cloud. Like nothing can touch you and your honey-bunny. Like there's nothing in the world you wouldn't do for them. Kind of how I feel for Netflix.
"Any mistake you make I, I just might forgive..."
Get into it!
*smooches...grooving deep in my seat*
----------- last time I saw Ms. Smith live she blew my mind; can't wait to go back!
Listen, I know trash TV is the downfall of good writing on the small screen. HOWEVER, it is successful for a reason. And people like to think that only the dregs of society are watching shows like "Keeping Up with the Kardashians" or "Love & Hip Hop" or any of the "Housewives of..." shows, but that's a lie and you know it. In fact, I'm a known and unapologetic trash TV watcher. I enjoy it, I look forward to it and it makes me laugh.
Recently I found myself having to explain why I still follow the lives of two former "Jersey Shore" cast members via their spinoff show, "Snooki & JWOWW," and the fact remains, "Because I like them." You will not find two more REAL people on any reality TV show, in my humble opinion.
These girls aren't trying to be anything they're not. MTV is throwing loads of money at them to just live their lives on screen and they're running with it. No pretenses, no posturing, no faux-elitism. Besides the fact that they've grown up a lot since the Shore days, Nicole and Jenny are the same down-to-earth girls they've been since day one, and, plastic surgeries aside, I appreciate them for that realness.
Now, if you don't mind, let me go catch up on this season.
*smooches...reveling in guilty pleasures*
---------- except I don't really feel guilty about it.
But before we get to business, you know how we do...
Sometimes I'm loud and in your face, to cover up the silent screams in my head. Sometimes I'm quiet and pull away, to mask the trumpets of chaos that surround me. Sometimes I'll smile to keep from crying, and other times a scowl holds back my tears.
It's all a great deal of effort, being the person in charge. Being the keeper of secrets. And when all the food in all the land fails to fill that void that I-don't-know-what-or-who is supposed to sate, I suppose all that's left is my voice.
And, I guess, this blog.
So hello, again. Brace yourself for another bumpy ride.
*smooches...with two steps forward and ten steps back*
---------- ain't life grand? I'm expecting a heart attack any day now.
A lot of plans blew up in my face and other things are threatening my patience and my sanity. Times like this I have no choice but to shrink away so I can find a solution or nurse my wounds.
When I heard about actor Lee Thompson Young ("The Famous Jett Jackson," "Rizzoli & Isles") committing suicide, I was sad, but mostly thankful for a coping mechanism for my own woes. "There but for the grace of god go I." There's always something or someone to bring me back.
And I always, always have music.
I can always bury myself in the arts and come out of it reborn. When you feel yourself falling down that rabbit hole, find that "thing" that anchors you. That anchor will save your life.
Trust me.
*smooches...hoping you're OK, too*
----------- I learned that "anchor" thing from watching "Teen Wolf" on Netflix. Get into it.
Rarely will a Beyonce song move me. OK, that might be a lie. I think I can name at least five Beyonce songs that I've shaken my ass to over the years. Or more. Whatever, shut up. Let me just give you this week's inspirational message in peace, OK? Sheesh!
Yesterday, I mentioned my lamentations about having thrown myself into the position of Head of Household, and how the experience shook me. That was October of 2005. Right now, in this glorious year of our lord Jesus Christ (2013), I walk around making no apologies for any of the decisions that I've made.
Oh, I left you while you were at your lowest point in life? Too bad, so sad. I turned my back on the possibilitycareer in the sciences to pursue the arts? That's how I roll. I'm happily SINGLE AND FABULOUS, EXCLAMATION POINT yet you can't understand why I just won't get a man in my life? Bitch, have a seat.
I'm a grown woman. I can do WHATEVER I want.
I want you all to know this is more about following your true path and less about singing a little diddy by a card-carrying member of the Illuminati (although it is a damn good song, Mrs. Carter). This is definitely about believing in your own ability to make shit happen for yourself, regardless of who is in your corner and who isn't.
You're going to make mistakes. You're not going to have all the answers. You're going to hit more than a couple of brick walls. But the stories you'll be able to tell along this fantastic journey, well, shit, isn't that what it's all about? The fantastic journey?
Do yourself a favor: be grown. Do whatever you want.
*smooches...memorizing that choreography*
---------- this would be a good song to play at the gym, or right before I take the mic at a reading...
And it was everything I imagined it would be and more. She's amazing.
On July 13, I was on a bus headed home from taking K to orientation at college, and I kept Lianne in my ear on repeat. Just let her soothe me after a nice weekend of family time and introducing my child to her future. Then I received a bunch of texts about that damned verdict and my chill turned to sorrow.
I hate that Lianne is associated with that terrible day. But seeing her live...I can only imagine this is what communion is like for the faithful. She's not that verdict, after all. We shared a moment, and in that moment I was truly happy.
This concert reminded me why I write, why I create art. It takes people away from the misery and the bullshit, and instead shows them the beauty and the possibilities.
How was your weekend?
*smooches...still in a groove*
----------- no one has moved me this much in a while
Runnin' pretty, New York City girl
Twenty-five, thirty-five
Hello, baby, New York City girl
You grew up ridin' the subways, running with people
Up in Harlem, down on Broadway
You're no tramp, but you're no lady, talkin' that street talk
You're the heart and soul of New York City
And love, love is just a passing word
It's the thought that you had in a taxi cab that got left on the curb
When he dropped you off at east 83rd
Oh, oh, oh [Oh, oh, oh]
You're a native New Yorker
You should know the score by now [You should know by now]
You're a native New Yorker
New York girl, ooh, ooh, ooh
Music plays, everyone'sdancin' closer and closer Makin' friends and findin' lovers
There you are lost in the shadows, searchin' for someone [Searchin' for
someone]
To set you free from New York City
And, whoa, where did all those yesterdays go
When you still believed love could really be like a Broadway show
You were the star, when did it close?
Oh, oh, oh [Oh, oh, oh]
You're a native New Yorker
No one opens the door
For a native New Yorker
[Runnin' pretty, New York City girl]
Ooh...ooh...ooh...
Native, native, native New Yorker
Where did all those yesterdays go
When you still believed love could really be like a Broadway show
You are the star
You're a native New Yorker
You should know the score by now
You're a native New Yorker
You should know the score, you should know the score by now
You're a native New Yorker, oh, oh, oh
[Native, native, native new Yorker]
You're a native New Yorker
Whoa, oh, ho, ho, you're a native New Yorker
You should know the score
[Native, native, native new Yorker]
You're a native New Yorker
What you waitin' for, no one opens the door
[You're a native New Yorker]
For a native, for a native New Yorker
***************
What else can I say? It's my theme song. I'm the native New Yorker being dropped off on East 83rd, talking street talk, makin' friends and findin' lovers. Every time I hear that song I'm transported to my grandmother's apartment on Patchen Avenue, me and Minerva listening to LP's, singing along like our lives depended on it. See we weren't allowed to play outside, and whenever there was nothing good on TV, we would throw on the records and let our imaginations take over. I still do it today.
It's the only way I know how to write.
*smooches...turning the speakers way up*
-----------
tell me this ain't the jam and I'll call you a DAMN liar.
Fireflies still amaze me. Walking down the street, suddenly coming across a FLYING LIGHT, still takes my breath away. I want to catch them and have a private light show in my hands.
I am just a couple of really good freelance jobs away from financial calmness. That's what I call not being worried about making rent!
MY KID GRADUATES FROM HIGH SCHOOL ON FRIDAY. This can't be my life. Also... ONE DOWN, ONE TO GO!
Soca artists are so SCANDALOUS, and I'm here for all of it, every minute of every day! (watch clip until at least the 3:00min mark!)
There are so many cool, free events happening in NYC this summer that I'll probably only end up doing NONE of them.
I very rarely miss people who miss me, and that made me feel a little guilty yesterday...for about five minutes.
Hot sauce makes everything better.
Yelling makes everything worse.
There are so many stories in my head at once, and the only way to shut them up is to write or numb myself. That urgency to get them all down will kill me faster than my shady, pot-smoking neighbors!
I don't know why it surprises me that good things happen when I work hard for them. Must be all the acid I dropped in the 60s.
*smooches...letting my mind wander*
----------- I do this more times than I care to admit.
I haven't been feeling well (of mind, body OR spirit) lately so OF COURSE I indulged in some heavy Netflix action this weekend. No working out, no quality time with anyone, no writing. Just me, my sofa and my computer. What was supposed to be a cleansing session of vegging out and disconnecting from the world turned into...not that. Why? Because I saw John Cusack's butt in the film The Paperboy.
It was not a cute butt. AT. ALL.
I get that he was playing a sleazeball, murderous, white trash, swamp-dwelling redneck. I totally understand that. But...his butt...you guys...I can't...
I've never said that my love for John was based on animal attraction. It was never even sexual, ever. It was always on an intellectual level. His essence speaks to my mind and it's a total turn-on. I was attracted to the person, and always just felt he was the kind of man I needed in my life. Just...a better butt wouldn't hurt. At all.
Needless to say I've not fully recovered from this yet. Oh, but the movie was good so you should watch it.
*smooches...trying to recover from this blow*
----------- list this under the things I never wanted to see or know
Read my first published story, Grey Matter, at Blue Lake Review online.
Also, you asked for it so here it is: click below to buy my book, My Ego Likes the Compliments...And Other Musings on Writing, for just $10 plus $2.00 flat shipping rate to anywhere in the continental US.
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