This one went behind this entry you are reading way too quickly. It really is a shame when reality interrupts a good babbling flow for no reason. Sales people ought to be shot. Ok, maybe that's a bit extreme. Or is it? There are moments when I understand the recluse on the mountain who fires a warning shot at strangers. Then starts the music. This neighborhood holds a plethora of followers of rap with aggressive base lines and often hostile lyrics who get some sort of reward from sitting in their cars with the windows open and the radio blasting as loud as it can go. Sometimes is doesn't like a war movie outside, especially when Eb leaves the windows open. Lately he's been doing that again. He seems to forget how he reminds me about how high the electric bill is during weeks he does not get the electric bill. Maybe you shouldn't leave the windows open and the air conditioner on, aye Eb? I've pointed that out a few times, but he obviously forgets.
Then there is the lawn guy who doesn't seem to understand a few simple facts like that Eb is not home when his scooter is not outside and I do not own this house or pay him. He (the lawn guy) does not have a phone (or vehicle, apparently) and walks over here from where he lives several times on Friday evenings either asking if he can mow the lawn or asking to be paid for mowing the lawn. I say the same thing to him again and again. Eb's not home if his motor scooter is not outside in the driveway. It's Eb's house, he decides when the lawn should be owed, he pays the bills. Every Friday night since I have been home (cuz softball has been rained out the last few Friday nights). At first I tried to help by calling Eb, but Eb doesn't always answer. I really don't want to be rude or mean or a bad neighbor (especially in this high crime neighborhood), but please stop making me get up and get dressed and answer the door to say the same thing, especially not when I am in the babbling zone. Or sleeping.
Last Friday night I went out for ice cream and stayed out a couple of hours.
Might be doing the same thing tonight.
The perils of living with a completely disorganized and careless person is having to take responsibility for him (or her) simply by being a responsible organized person in the same space. I have drawn the line on many levels, but some things just can't be avoided without leaving the space. Like persistent lawn guys. And filthy kitchens and bathrooms. Having no local friends (no one closer the 25-30 minutes away) and no friends I can just stop by without rather formal planning does not help as there is no easy escape.
So the wonderful ethereal eclectic flow of babble has turned into a gripe session as reality pounded itself (on the front door) into my internal meanderings and the secrets of the universe (and me) will have to wait for another time when I have less aggressive interruptions. I wonder what would happen if I blasted Phantom of the Opera or The Beatles or Melissa Etheridge or Tommy or Harry Chapin or Pink Floyd or Elton John or The Moody Blues or classic Broadway show songs or Fall Out Boy or John Lennon or Evanescence or Cream or Dan Fogelberg or Led Zeppelin or The Beegees or Mars Volta or Barbara Streisand or Supertramp or The Eagles or Lori Carson or Elvis or Linda Ronstadt or Billy Joel or Depeche Mode or Snow Patrol or The Four Tops or Black Sabbath or Barry Manilow or Metallica or Mary Poppins or Air Supply or Springsteen or Leslie Gore or Jarah Jane or Jackson Browne or Spill Canvas or Bread or Lynyrd Skynyrd or Rilo Kiley or Dead Can Dance or Heart or R.E.M. or The Beach Boys Allman Brothers or Tom Chapin or Chicago or The Innocence Mission or Leonard Cohen or U2 or Alice Cooper or Bob Dylan or Sarah Macglachlin or Art of Noise or Neil Sedaka or Joan Jett or Don Mclean or The The or Tanya Tucker or Abba West Side Story or The Four Season or Andy Williams or Queen or Meg and Dia Aerosmith or The Supremes or Jewel or Genesis or Chuck Berry or Men At Work or Demi Lovato or Blind Faith or Joni Mitchell or Mozart or The Cardigans or Foreigner or Bright Eyes or The Doors or The Sound of Music or The Pretenders or Smashing Pumpkins or The Waterboys or Frank Zappa or Sleater Kinney or Jay and the Americans or Alanis Morissette or Death Cab for Cutie or The Cure or She and Him or Janis Joplin or Nada Surf or Bob Marley or Bing Crosby or Pearl Jam or Sheryl Crow or Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young or Shania Twain or Jimi Hendrix or Kon Kan or No Doubt or The Rolling Stones or Sinead O'Conner or Jethro Tull or Blue Rodeo or Derek and the Dominoes or Cindy Lauper or Portishead or Bethovan or Stone Temple Pilots or Charlotte Gainsbourg or The Clash or The Platters or The Cranberries or Donovan or Say Anything or Tegan and Sara or Radiohead or The Telling or Lenka or Jesus Christ Superstar or George Carlin or Robin Williams or Lenny Bruce, for that matter.
So many different kinds of music (and I've left out so much). Why do some people only blast one?
Obviously I felt like writing tonight. A bit of loneliness. A bit of frustration. A bit of imagination. A bit of alienation. A bit of memories. A bit of creativity. A bit of wishing and hoping and dreaming. And a whole lot of music. Maybe the best thing about music is that you don't have to listen to hear it.
Then there's Jackson. I am concerned about her. I am concerned that she is still not whole enough inside to have a balanced relationship where she is not co-dependent and dominated. I am concerned that Brandy is too controlling due to her own insecurities and alienating Jackson from all of the people who mean the most to her and from the social network she depends on for her emotional stability. She (Jackson) has such an external locus of control and Brandy seems to want to be the only external food/support for Jackson's very hungry/needy self-esteem and security. I fear Jackson might do something dangerous to herself if Brandy pulls the plug because Jackson is too needy to go it alone without any of her network.
Being your priority does not mean being the only one in your daily life.
Brandy wants Jackson to stop texting her friends every day. I think it is pretty selfish or Brandy to make Jackson stop texting her friends every day and not let Jackson have lunch or dinner with a friend. I think that is an unhealthy relationship. The only time she can get together with a friend is when Brandy goes out of town and apparently, Brandy reacts poorly afterward. Just last week when Jackson and I had dinner together for the first time in months, she told me how much she misses her friends, how different she and Brandy are socially (Jackson wanting a network of friends, Brandy wanting only one) and how she feels isolated. When friends are shut out, there is no external perspective. There is only the dominant controller setting the rules. That can become abusive, if not physically, at least emotionally. For the friends, there is a helplessness that simply must be accepted. All we are left with is hope that she knows how much she is compromising and giving up of herself to satisfy Brandy and hope she survives and finds happiness and peace and security without her network or even her close friends and hope she is satisfied with what she has even though we know it is less than what she wants. I hope they can be happy together.
Sometimes big brothers (like dads) have to just let go and hope for the best.
Meanwhile, I return to babbling to myself a bit and that is a wonderful thing for me. I have only been babbling in letters to J and I might not have babbled at all recently if not for J so thank you J for providing the inspiration and safe haven. Once of these days I will figure out what I want to do with all the words I've been pouring into letters to J. They'd be edited for her privacy, of course, and then expanded upon as able usually is. Another new blog, perhaps. An extension of Letters To the Night, a LiveJournal that never quite got off the ground and may have been removed from their servers for inactivity. Oh, how very sad to find out you've been purged.
Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again. Keep on keeping on.
Then, outside, gunshots.
The loud music and party got very quiet all of a sudden. I looked out and saw the group out in front of the house across the street mulling around awkwardly and a guy in a red shirt with a gun in his hand walked across my lawn and crossed over to them. Apparently they knew him and convinced him to put the gum away. They hardly made a sound after that as sound of the shots woke the dogs around the neighborhood and the barking may have given them concern that the police might stop by. After a few minutes the party wet indoors and there has not been a peep since. It's the first time I actually saw a gun across the street. Until tonight all of the drug buyers have been very discreet and mellow.
Alas, I am stuck here trying to balance my budget and save money as I've been spending more than I ought to and not saving as quickly as I intended. I have way too many expenses. $400 car. $140 NY storage. $130 Fl storage. $150 phone. $100 car insurance. $550 rent. $15 rental insurance. $75-100 gas. That's $1585 already. More than a two week take home. I don't earn nearly what I used to so I must slow down on spending. I've been buying a lot since I started this job because I don't want to spend time searching through storage partly because the mice got in and I had to move stuff around and spray a lot and it's not as clean in there as I'd like so I don't want to open boxes. I've been eating out a lot and occasionally high priced meals. I am a bit out of control. I easily say who cares and fuck it and move along. That keeps me stuck here.
Well, hasn't this entry turned into a rotten kettle of fish. Where's that barrel of monkeys when you need it, aye? Oh sure, make jokes. And we were having so much fun before it all went south. Some say the south will rise again. I say I am hoping this irreverence helps me rise above the depressing surroundings and reality so I can get back into the escapism babbling that was starting this weekend off with a bang and a bing and a burp. Softball tomorrow, weather willing. Perhaps lunch with Helen and her mom. Perhaps Texas hold'em in the evening. We shall see how I feel in the morning. At the moment I feel much more alone than when the night started. Much more alone. Much.
Oh those darn whipporwills.
And I really don't want to die here either.