Saturday, 30 May 2009

Ugly p18


When has the serge of chemicals to the brain not been described as that.

I get it now. What all those hippies were looking for, trying to recreate, over and over again.

I get it now.

I woke up early. Could think of nothing else but after school. I grabbed a piece of toast as I left the house. You know I think it is time to shed these extra pounds that have creeped on as I was walking in that valley of darkness.

I don't even remember how I got to school that day. The day moves like a dream. One event unconnected to another event. Scenes from a movie. I only remember all the scenes that I saw him in the hall or at lunch. I would smile at him and for the most part he would ignore me. But I understood. He didn't want anyone to tease me if they figured it out. As it was the kids he was talking to would laugh a bit at me when I smiled at him. If only they knew. I was secretly closer to him then they were.

And in between, all those classes, I have no clue what the teachers were droning on about. I would pick a wall an run the movie in my mind, the movie of yesterday at his place. The movie was perfect length and ended at the kiss as the bell rang every time.

Finally, time did pass. It seemed like forever, even if i don't remember much of it. I went home.

"How was school, Danni?" I heard as I walked in.


"Do your homework."

"Did it already, on the bus."


"Do you want to see it, Granny?"

"No. I believe you, if you didn't do it your grades would be worse."

"That's right, I get A's, so leave me alone about it."

"If I didn't care I wouldn't ask, child."

I quickly took a shower, put on new clothes, tried to put on my dress, but it would not fit any way I tried to suck it in. Oh well, overalls it is. I grabbed my guitar and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. I thought I would go play by the old tree by the old shack, I miss Moses. Anything wrong with that?"

"No, dear, I am happy you are playing again. Don't be too late."

With that, I left. I hit the ground running. I ran until I got out of breath. That happened way too soon. When I loose the weight, it will take me less tome to get over to his farm, I thought to myself and kept walking. Occasionally when I caught my breath I would run again until I needed to walk again.

The farm was like it was yesterday, very little sounds coming from it. I knocked on the door.

Today , after a minute it opened. Miles stood there with a smile.

"Hey, great you brought your guitar!"


"Come on in. I made the lemonade I promised you."

I went into the parlor. I sat on the couch. He brought out the picture of lemonade with 2 glasses and poured us both one. I got my guitar out.

"Do you have any requests?"

He laughed. "Yeah there is a lot of music I miss, but I doubt you have heard it. You might have been in the real world for the first few years of your life, but since then, music has moved on. And you are trapped in country and western land."

He looked at my face. My smile was gone. "It's not your fault, it is just I miss the music from back East."

I started playing three cords. Only three cords were used in any of their songs.


Well I don't care about history
Rock, rock, rock'n'roll high school
'Cause that's not where I wanna be
Rock, rock, rock'n'roll high school
I just wanna have some kicks
I just wanna get some chicks
Rock, rock, rock, rock, rock'n'roll high school

Well the girls out there knock me out, you know
Rock, rock, rock'n'roll high school
Cruisin' around in my GTO
Rock, rock, rock'n'roll high school
I hate the teachers and the principal
Don't wanna be taught to be no fool
Rock, rock, rock, rock, rock'n'roll high school

Fun fun rock'n'roll high school
Fun fun rock'n'roll high school
Fun fun rock'n'roll high school
Fun fun, oh baby


Oh, you know I sang it with attitude.

Now it was his turn to look shocked.

"How do you know the Ramones?"

"I may live in Kentucky, but I do have a shortwave radio. I have been listening to all sorts of music from all over the world. I know time has moved on in pop music , new styles of music, glam, new wave, punk, but I still like the blues."

I started tapping my foot.

I started playing Back Door Man. When I was done he looked sheepish.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made assumptions about you. You are different."


"I love the Doors. Great rendition."

Now I laughed. "Jim loved the Blues too. That was written by Willie Dixon for Hollin' Wolf a little bit before the Doors sang it. You don't know the Blues that much, do you? Not your fault. You grew up in the North East, not much blues up there until it leaked into rock and roll." I smiled at the jab I sent back at him.

He laughed. "I deserve that. Play more Blues lady, educate me."

And so I did. I played on and on.

Time seemed to flow so I didn't notice. The sun had set. It only came to me when he quickly came to my face and stopped. He put his hand behind my head and kissed me. I didn't know what to think as he tried to stick his tongue into my mouth.

"Haven't you ever french kissed? Or don't they do that around here?"

I didn't want to seem ignorant. It just seemed so unsanitary at the time. I remember the hippies kissing with open mouths. My grand parents didn't , for sure.

"You just took me by surprise. I get into my music, I don't notice anything else."

He smiled. I think he knew I was lying.

He reached over and kissed me again. This time I pretended I was not grossed out and that I knew what I was doing.

He took my guitar and placed it on the chair in the corner. He came back to the sofa and started kissing me French style again. I concentrated hard on not grossing out and where to put my tongue. He made noises like he was enjoying it. Occasionally say "Yeah , baby."

I was concentrating so hard I didn't realize his hand was on my breast until it was under my bra.

I sat up and looked at it there.

Then I looked at him.

He was looking at my uncovered breast he had managed to get out, peeking from the unhooked overall bib.

"AH HUM" I said.

He looked at my face. Smiling a devilish smile. "You are so beautiful , baby, I just want to look. I wont hurt them. I know they can be sensitive."

He proceeded to feel it up, with hands and mouth. Not the most unpleasant of sensations. I did feel things might be going too far.

He placed it back into the bra, pulled down my shirt, rehooked the bib, all while smiling. "See, didn't hurt. Sometimes those girls need to breath, get some air. Be kissed so they don't get jealous of your mouth."

"It's dark, I better go." I said walking to my guitar,

" Come back on Saturday? My mother is going away again. I will make you lunch. I want to hear you play again, Blues Lady. Remember don't talk about this, you know how people can get jealous. I know how you girls can talk. I don't want you to get teased by jealous girls. O.k., baby?" He said with the sweetest smile.

"Alright." I said as I left out the door and ran back to my house.

The whole way home I felt dirty and alive at the same time. I wasn't suppose to like it. The women at the commune liked it. I wasn't sure I was going back on Saturday. Yes and No sat in the air before me, the whole way home. They went back and forth. Up and down. finally around and around.

I avoided him in school the next few days. Yes and No still playing their game of tag in my head.

I sang on the porch every night. I didn't eat. Had no need. No hunger for food.

Friday nigh I went to bed, Yes and No wouldn't let me rest. If only someone would just tell me what to do other than the boy who keeps saying yes.

Wednesday, 27 May 2009

musical biscuit

I know a weird little positioning of Janis and Queen. We are nearing the end of the story, just a fair warning to the two people who read this. I hope you have a enjoyed the ride.

Musical Interlude

Tuesday, 26 May 2009

Ugly 17

Can anybody find me somebody to love?
Each morning I get up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet
Take a look in the mirror and cry
Lord what you're doing to me
I have spent all my years in believing you
But I just can't get no relief, Lord!
Somebody, somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

Everyday - I try and I try and I try -
But everybody wants to put me down
They say I'm goin' crazy
They say I got a lot of water in my brain
Got no common sense
I got nobody left to believe
Yeah - yeah yeah yeah

Oh Lord
Somebody - somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

Got no feel, I got no rhythm
I just keep losing my beat
I'm ok, I'm alright
Ain't gonna face no defeat
I just gotta get out of this prison cell
Someday I'm gonna be free, Lord!

Find me somebody to love
Can anybody find me somebody to love?


After Moses died I was in a fog for about a year or so. It was all so vague. I was truly lost. I was lost in a way neither the good lord or the devil could find me , even if they were looking. No-body was looking, though. I gained 50 pounds. I stopped running across hills and streams. I stopped frogging. I stopped fishing. I didn't even pick up the guitar. It was in the hay loft. I would look at it and cry.

My heart sank each time I saw the old steel guitar. It was a snapping snake that hits it's mark every time. The memories flood in. Tears flooded out. Each day the same.

Oh don't get me wrong, I tried to stay away from that thing. But it called out, an obsession, a compulsion of sorts. It made me come to it everyday, as if Moses himself was commanding me to play at his funeral. Only this time I refused and I kept refusing.

Lost and lonely. I saw it too many times when I was young. It came to me one of the days in the loft.

What came to me?

The notion, I needed someone who loved me, to fill the void left by Moses. Now I was getting older, I was 14 with a vengeance. My breast stopped hurting but were still growing. My hormones were in an uproar begging me to find someone , anyone to share a life with, a smile with, a inside joke with, someone who got me.

There, that is it, what I think every human being on the face of this Earth is long for, someone who gets them. It might be a friend. Hey, if we have a good friend who gets us then lovers can come and go all they want, as long as we have that one person. That one person we could always could count on not to take it wrong when we say the wrong words. That one person who when we say nothing is wrong knows we are lying and will not stop asking until we fess up.

For most of us, we seek it in a mate. Soul mates they call them. But I think that is mostly bullshit. When we are lost and lonely we believe in bullshit something fierce.

So everyday I was drawn to the ghosts of the past, I started praying to God, a just and loving god, a god that doesn't turn his back on people who need help. There are people who believe this is hard to fine, they look all their lives. The end up believing in the end God is their one person who gets them . But I was not about to give up to some holy ghost.

No, I wanted flesh and blood person to love. I would sing out in a cracked and sad voice the song by Queen, Somebody to love, I would leave out a verse. I had not started working yet, everything else fit, everything else spoke to me. Spoke to me hard, right down to my soul. Funny how some songs are prayers. Not the gospel ones, I mean songs you sing along to on the radio or records. Every teenage girl knows this deep down. Why do you think we sing so many songs about love? Some of those sappy teenage love songs have real crappy lyrics. Not this one, though.

School, was still hell. Kids teased me, now they got meaner.

Ugly, Ugly, Ugly... I answered to the name. I give in. They see me as nothing else. I lash out at everyone. I guess I am ugly in my grief. Maybe this is who I always was. We are who we are and when you feel ugly you will act it out if you so desire.

I got called down to the principle at least once a week. A heavy serving of guild from grandmother always kept me from being expelled. She seemed like she cared for me to the principle, at home, I knew she just didn't know what to do with me. That old women stooped to encourage me to pick up that old guitar, to go to the black church and even suggested I go see Hope, Faith or Love for a new dress, since I "out grew" the old one. Nice way to say I had gotten fat. Yeah the kids also reminded me of the weight I put on, too. I didn't want a new dress. I was fine in these old overalls, they hide, I believed some of this extra fat.

I was so addicted to my self loathing and pity I had no clue how not to be. I was trapped with a blind fold on trying to feel my way out. There was no way out.So now I pray, pray for salvation in the form of someone to love me, for me to love, someone who gets me and I get in return.

New kid in town. Boy. He's 16. Blond. Blue eyed. Best of all, he's not from these parts, he's from the east. Breath of fresh air, to say the least. He talks to me, like he talks to everyone else. He doesn't get the cold talk the other's do. He never calls me ugly.

His name is Miles. Like the Jazz guy. His mom was a hippie ,too. Moved him and his brother and sister to get back to nature, natural ways. Organic farming. She says it is the way of the future. Grandfather said it was 5 steps back to the past. She said it is healthier and everyone will be wanting organic food. it will be important, even if it more expensive. Grandmother baked some corn bread and brought the whole crew over. His mom went on and on about food and organic and it all seemed as complicated as chemistry. But it sounded good to me, what I understood, deadly additives, killing us slowly but not so slowly that we wont be dying before our parents. She talks about the things we feed the animals, the genetic engineering, the hormones and antibiotics are making our children mature quicker, makes us resistant to antibiotics, and harms us in so many ways.

I wish I could have talked with her forever. She reminded me of the commune. She had a greater purpose. Even if that purpose was just to make food they way we used to. It's good to have purpose. A light in the fog that was my head. Of course you can only realize when the beginnings of the brake in the fog in hindsight. No one in my life had such passion as she did. You need to be passionate about something in life. Because it is life.

Anyway, the boy, he was nice to me. He was nice to everyone. He didn't seem to want to be part of this group or that, jock, artist, popular kids, nerds or misfits like me, he seemed to talk to them all.

My fog lifted a little bit more as my heart started to attach itself to that boy with the Jazz Man's name.

I remembered the first day of spring of that year, I was called, just like everyday since Moses passed , to the hayloft, to the old guitar. This time I grabbed it. I ran with it. I ran to the organic farm. I wanted to show his mother I could play. I know, you might think, why wouldn't I be looking for Miles. I wanted his mother to see my worth. I wanted approval from her and if he was there all the better.

I went up to the old farm house all out of breath. I knocked on the door. I took a minute to catch my breath. Time passed I realized no-one has come to the door. I knocked again. I started rehearsing in my head what I would say when someone opened the door. But still no-one came.

I took my guitar and walked to the barn, maybe she was in there.

Nope. But what I did see was Miles. His shirt was off. He had a pitch fork in his hands and he was picking hay. All I could do was stare and stare some more. I hoped he never saw me. I was enjoying the view way too much. May Jesus forgive me, but that boy looked like a man to me. I could see he had done farm labour before by his muscular physic.

It's amazing how a minute can seem like an hour when you wish time could stop. It did resume. He noticed me. Smiled, waived and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Hey, what's that? Do you play?" he said

"Yeah, I was hoping to show your mom." I said sheepishly.

"She's not here, went to get supplies, she wont be back until dark. Why don't you come up here and show me how you play. I could use a brake." he said and he motioned me up to the loft.

He didn't have to ask me twice.

I sat on a bail of hay. I put the guitar on my knee. Oh God, I had not thought this out, what if I forgot how to play?

I looked at him. Smile on his face, sky blue eyes, curls in his blond hair. I smiles. I started taping my foot, hoping, hoping Jesus or the devil would start my fingers moving.

Lost in the eyes of sky and curls of corn silk I didn't realize my hands had started until my voice joined in.

Well, baby, when times are bad,
Now call on me, darling, and I’ll come to you.
When you’re in trouble and feel so sad,
Well, call on me, darling, come on call on me, and I’ll help you.

A man and a woman have each other, baby,
To find their way in this world.
I need you, darling, like the fish needs the sea,
Don’t take your sweet, your sweet love from me.

Baby, when you’re down and feel so blue,
Well, no, you won’t drown, darling, I’ll be there too.
You’re not alone, I’m there too,
Whatever your troubles, honey, I don’t care.

A man and a woman have each other, baby,
To find their way in this world.
I need you, darling, like the fish needs the sea,
Don’t take your sweet, sweet love from me!

Please! So baby, when times are bad,
Call on me, darling, just call on me.

I stopped. I looked in his eyes for approval.

"Janis, my mother loves, Janis. She would have loved it. I grew up listening to her records over and over again, I am surprised you knew her music here."

He seemed genuinely happy.

I smiled. " I meet Janis when I was little. She sang to me in the park when I was lost one day. Well I knew where I was, they just didn't. I lived with my mother in a commune in San Francisco. I only moved here when I was 4 or 5. It is a blur sometimes. Time all but stopped when I moved here."

"That old lady lived on a commune in San Fransisco!" he was truly shocked.

"Ha ha ha. NO! She is my grandmother. They came and took me away from my mother. I was born on Bob Dylan's birthday, too. This, I always though, meant I was born into music. " I replied, trying hard to impress, without looking like I was. I knew I really want; born on Dylan's birthday, but I might have been, it made a good story, though.

"I was at Woodstock." He said with a sly smile trying to one up me.

"Me too." I replied with the same sly smile.

"We are more alike than I ever would have known." he said with a laugh.

This explains a lot. I thought to myself. He grew up like me. Well, if I didn't get taken away from my home.

"Do you play?" I asked.

"No. No talent. I listen, I am an expert at listening to music. I thought I would try to find a job in that when I get older. " he smiled.

We talked and laughed and I sang until sundown.

"Oh damn, my mother will be home soon. Come back tomorrow, my mother will be gone again. I will make you some lemonade and you can play for me again." He said.

"O.k." I said and picked up my stuff.

Quickly he pecked my lips. "See you tomorrow. And don't mention that you came to my home to anyone or that we kissed, o.k.?"

"Why?" I was thrown by the last statement.

"They wouldn't understand, Anyhow I don't want you teased more at school. See you tomorrow."

All night long all I could think about was the kiss. I didn't eat. I just dreamt. Head in the clouds is still a fog blinding you, just higher and more pleasurable.

I think I found someone who gets me.


This thing called love I just can't handle it
this thing called love I must get round to it
I ain't ready
Crazy little thing called love
This (This Thing) called love
(Called Love)
It cries (Like a baby)
In a cradle all night
It swings (Woo Woo)
It jives (Woo Woo)
It shakes all over like a jelly fish,
I kinda like it
Crazy little thing called love
There goes my baby
She knows how to Rock n' roll
She drives me crazy
She gives me hot and cold fever
Then she leaves me in a cool cool sweat
I gotta be cool relax, get hip
Get on my track's
Take a back seat, hitch-hike
And take a long ride on my motor bike
Until I'm ready
Crazy little thing called love
I gotta be cool relax, get hip
Get on my track's
Take a back seat, hitch-hike
And take a long ride on my motor bike
Until I'm ready (Ready Freddie)
Crazy little thing called love
This thing called love I just can't handle it
this thing called love I must get round to it
I ain't ready
Crazy little thing called love

Saturday, 23 May 2009

Ugly 16

There I was looking at my Grandmother who just accused me of stealing my dress.

" I don't steal!" I replied bitingly.

"Then where did you get that gaudy thing?" she demanded.

"It's as pretty as mine, see?" my little sister keeps chirping in. She spins. "Granny made mine."

My heart sank. I didn't know these people existed, they did. I smiled at her briefly before looking at my grandmother again.

"Faith, Love and Hope. It is beautiful not gaudy! You may not think I deserve a dress but I and other people do not share your opinion , Grandmother." I walked out the room, petting my sister's head as I did.

My mother was shooting daggers at her mother. "What did she mean? You don't think she deserves a dress? Mama?! I will take her out of here if I don't think she is being treated right."

"You know plain well, you will not. Empty threats don't suit you." she quickly said to my mother.

"That dress is NOT decent for a funeral!" grandmother shouted after me.

"I will remember that for your funeral! But since it is not yours I am wearing it!" I shouted back.

I could hear my mother laughing.

"Mama" a small voice asked "why does Aunty call Grandma , Grandma?"

"Everyone calls me granny in these parts, child. Now go play."

I started down stairs as they avoided that little talk.

Grandfather sitting in his chair in the living room just looked over his glasses at me, disapproving, but not about to say a word. I felt empowered. I realized how they treated me was not quite what my mother had in mind. Their secrets and lies laid on one twist of my tongue. They needed to be careful what they say to me around this time, least I let loose everything I know. I don't know who they thought they were protecting. Innocent children. From what? ME? They are children not idiots. They should know about me, they will figure it our eventually. Or was it more lies? Had I become the can of worms? What worms didn't I know about?

I walked past grandfather and my mother's new husband and walked right out the door. I kept walking at a good pace, walked right into the barn. I went up to the loft. Moved the hay around , uncovered my old guitar. Picked it up and went back to the house.

I sat down on the porch and I started playing.


I Be's Troubled
Well if I feel tomorrow, like I feel today
I'm gonna pack my suitcase, and make my getaway
Lord I'm troubled, I'm all worried in mind
And I'm never been' satisfied, and I just can't keep from cryin'

Yeah, I know my little old' baby, she gonna jump and shout
That ol' train be late girl, and I come walkin' out
Lord I'm troubled, I'm all worried in mind
Yeah and I'm never been' satisfied, and I just can't keep from cryin'

Yeah, I know somebody, who' been talkin' to you
I don't need no telling, girl, I can watch the way you do
And I be troubled, I be all worried in mind
Yeah and I'm never been' satisfied, and I just can't keep from cryin'
Yeah, now goodbye baby
Got no more to say

Just like I been telling' you, girl, you're gonna have to leave my way
Lord I'm troubled, I'm all worried in mind
Yeah and I'm never been' satisfied, and I just can't keep from cryin'
Yeah my baby she quit me, seem like mama was dead
I got real worried gal, and she drove it to my head
I Be's troubled, I be all worried in mind
Yeah and I'm never been' satisfied, and I just can't keep from cryin

As I started up. Those old cords, that fingering so distinctive, my mother came out sat on the porch swing and started to sing with me. She had a guitar with her. She was playing ,too. Tears were coming down our faces as we sang that old tune by Muddy Waters. You see Moses and Precious, they were originally from Mississippi Delta, and settled up here before having children. It was those old delta blues we learned from him.

I never felt so connected to my mother.

When we ended, she got up , touched my shoulder. "Time to go, the dead can wait, but the preacher man, he don't want for any man, woman or child. Trust me, I remember when I played at Precious' funeral."

We drove off in a few trucks and cars, all of the family, uncles , aunts, kids, grandparents, we all drove off.

The small white baptist church on the old dirt road.

There that sentence could say volumes. Now lets add that it is a black baptist church. We had to park a half a mile away. Imagine the who were people gathered in and out. Family, friends. bartenders, ladies of ill repute, they were all there and so were we.

Moses was well loved.

I hope when my time comes, my church is not empty and the preacher is not just talking to the dead body that lay within. I want it to be as full as this church. No matter where I die. I want to make that kind of impact on the world that when I leave, people who don't even go to that church come to say their goodbyes. I want to sit atop my casket and count them all as they walk by.

I am sure Moses is doing that right now.

The walk was long and hot, the guitar seems heavier than usual. For November this was unseasonably hot. 90 degrees in the shade. This was the hardest thing I had to do. I dreaded the idea of singing before all these people. I had not even picked out a song. How can I sing when all I want to do is cry? When my heart was braking in ways I knew knew before.

The church was full, beyond capacity. People in every square inch. This made it 20 degrees hotter inside than out.

We stayed in the back. My grandfather looked uncomfortable. I hate to say, I found it funny, because I knew why. It was the first time he took the back seat to a black person. It was about time. Martin Luther King had been gone quite some time by now. It was about time.

The preacher started, with his preaching. Moses would have laughed. All the talking of clean living, of keeping the body pure of alcohol and sin. I tried not to laugh.

After a good hour of that. He stopped. He looked at the ground. gave that huge pregnant pause like he was about to say something profound, or something he didn't want to say. He looked up again. He looked at me.

"I want to welcome people into the church who may not have been here before. They come to honour this great man. This man who brought such joy into our lives. One of them has brought a guitar that brother Moses gifted to her some years ago. As I understand it it was his dying wish to have her play. Now some of you know her, she has been coming here with Moses and her family for years."

With that my grandparents snapped their heads to lo0k at me. Shocked to say the least. I heard grandmother whisper "at least she's been going to SOME church."

"She was the last of the many appearances that old brother Moses had. So please, congregation, please let her through to play here for us and Moses today." He waved his hand like Moses parting the Red Sea. "Miss Butterfly, please come forward."

That isle never seemed so long.

I sat on the pulpit near Moses' casket. I breathed out hard. I started tapping my foot as that could get the rest of my body moving. Sweat poured down. I closed my eyes. I wanted Moses to tell me what to play.

Nothing came.

Than just like that my hands started moving.

Cords started coming...

My mouth started:


Gypsy woman told my momma, before I was born
You got a boy-child coming', gonna be a son-of-a-gun
Gonna make these pretty women, jump and shout
And the world will only know, a-what it's all about

The preacher stood up and started screaming about Jezebel and evil child and what could and could not be played in church.

Before he could get to me at least 20 woman stood up including Love, Faith and Hope.

"Now you leave that child alone!"

"She is just playing one of my Daddy's favorite songs to play!"

"She is singing for the dead, there preacher, you let that child sing, Jesus be praised."

"My grand pappy, he's singing through her, you leave her be, preacher, or you will see no more of my sweet potato pie."

"Let her be, the child is being guided by other hands today."

The last woman was his wife.

"Sisters, sisters. " He said trying to calm the women who stood up, never mind the at least one hundred more that was looking at him like he best not take one more step towards me. "Well sisters, if that's how you feel, who am I to go against the families' wishes. Play on child."

Oh he said the words and sat back down, but he cringed with every word.

Y'know I'm here
Everybody knows I'm here
And I'm the hoochie-coochie man
Everybody knows I'm here

On the seventh hour, of the seventh day,
on the seventh month, the seventh doctor said:
"He's born for good luck, and I know you see;
Got seven hundred dollars, and don't you mess with me

Y'know I'm here
Everybody knows I'm here
And I'm the hoochie-coochie man
Everybody knows I'm here

Gypsy woman told my momma
Said "Ooh, what a boy,
he gonna make so many women,
jump and shout for joy"

Y'know I'm here
Everybody knows I'm here
And I'm the hoochie-coochie man
Everybody knows I'm here

Gypsy woman told my momma, before I was born
You got a boy-child coming', gonna be a son-of-a-gun
Gonna make these pretty women, jump and shout
And the world will only know, a-what it's all about

Y'know I'm here
Everybody knows I'm here
And I'm the hoochie-coochie man
Everybody knows I'm here

Additional 2nd verse from original 1954 Muddy Waters take:

I got a black cat bone, I got a mojo too
I got John the Conqueror, I'm gonna mess with you
I'm gonna make you, pretty girl, lead me by the hand
Then the world will know, the Hoochie-Coochie Man


"That was very NICE. Now you can return to your family" He said to me as he walked over gritting his teeth.

"Not yet, preacher. I have one more song." I said sheepishly.

He cringed.

The women all gave him a hard stare. "play child, play as long as you want." one of them said.

"Of course , the dead are not going anywhere." Preacher man sat back down.

I started stringing again.

As I started singing, the preacher relaxed and smiled and so did the congregation.

Oh uh,
I see fingers, hands and shades of faces,
Reachin up and not quite touch in the promised land,
I hear pleas and prayers and a desperate whisper sayin,
Hold on please give us a helping hand,
Yeah yeah

Way down in the background,
I can see frustrated souls of cities burning,
And all across the water vapor,
I see weapons barkin out the stamp of death,
And up in the clouds I can imagine UFO jumpin themselves,
Laughing they sayin,
Those people so uptight, they sure know how to make a mess

Back in the saloon my tears mix and mildew with my drink,
I can't really tell my feet from the stones on the floor,
But as far as I know, they may even try to wrap me up in cellophane and try and sell me
Brothers help me, and don't worry about looking at the storm
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high.
There's a land that I heard of Once in a lullaby.
Somewhere, over the rainbow, skies are blue.
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true.
Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far Behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops, Away above the chimney tops.
That's where you'll find me.
Somewhere, over the rainbow, bluebirds fly. Birds fly over the rainbow,
Why then - oh, why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow,
Why, oh, why can't I?


I have to admit I did mix Jimi with Dorothy, but it worked in a very blues, up lift almost gospel way. The preacher was happy and so were the women in the church. Now as I got up I started singing the old song, Amazing Grace. The preacher blesses Moses' coffin and the men came to walk him out of the church one last time. I followed, singing the song over and over again, adding lyrics as I went. The rest of the people followed after. Streams flowing out of the pews, down the isle and on the lawn. They were all singing with me. The ones who had something to play, did.

Moses was put upon a horse drawn carriage. The horses wearing black masks with feathers coming up of their heads. The carriage was painted black and we all followed him to the grave yard. To the last place we would ever see him. The final act of placing dirt in his grave, flowers and dirt, final good byes.

The rest was all a blur of food and singing old blues tunes at the family's house.

The rest as I said was all a blur. Death of people you love does that to you. You wake up out of your fog and days, weeks, months sometimes years have passed. And all you can ask is "How did I get here?"

Friday, 22 May 2009

Ugly 15

And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.
D. Thomas

The Morning of the funeral.

I had argued with my grandparent to be able to go. They finally gave in, they did not know why it was so important for me to say good be to a complete stranger. Especially one "not of our race".

For all they and I knew I could have been also part of "not of our race." They always assumed my mother would not have never laid with anyone not white, I knew better. Race, colour, religion are so important here, such exclusive clubs and members can be born into, a club that shuns you if you leave or take up with members of other clubs.

I reject this reality that they saw as a immovable truth of the world. They found me naive for not holding on tight to it. They put me down for trying to show them the lines of that reality are so blurred it can make you blind. The see it so clearly, they see so clearly in it, they can not see anything beyond it's small island.

I was born into the world. On to the planet Earth. My feat firmly plant on it, it allows me to run. I look up, the sun warms my skin and lets me see far, so far , I can see all these islands and all these bigger places. How could I ever believe this reality was the only one when I can see others. I can just not take off their blinders, lift their fog, or any other euphoniums to make them see the world outside their farm, their town, their county or even their state.

So the morning of the funeral. I am in my dress, made by Love Faith and Hope. The butterflies fly free.

My Grandmother come in with my mother and sister and brother."Child!, Where on earth did you get that?! Did you steal it?"

"Auntie, you look pretty." my little sister says.

My mother looks at her shocked, she thought my grandmother had made it for me.


Let's back up.

A day before this. I forgot a few details...

I was siting sad at the breakfast table. Barely touching my bacon and eggs. I had no where I wanted to go. I was just going to mope around the house. World is raining. Crying with my soul.

"Child, eat your food. Don't waste what the good lord provided you." grandfather said over his paper.

"I'm not hungry." I say back.

Grandfather looked angry, slammed down his paper. He was about to say something to me when their was a knock on the door. We all looked at the door. Grandmother got up and went to the door and opened it.

She laughed and cried, "Oh my sweet Jesus, you've come home!"

In walks my mother with two small children a boy and a girl. The boy about 7 and the girl about 5. Behind them comes a man a a big lapel brown suit.

"Look father, look who came how with the children!"

Grandfather got a happy expression on his face and went over to hug my mother and picked up the children.

They said all sorts of loving grandparent things to the children. Why did they not act this way with me? Those children had no butterfly on their face. they looked perfect. My mother and the man had matching gold rings. I guess they know who their father is.

Some of my aunts and uncle came over to great them. Same thing, lots of love. Lots of happiness. I notice the man in the big lapel suit look at me. He had a hard time looking away. It is as if he has no idea what to think of me. He is not repelled. He does have a look of distance. As if I was some deep dark secret that just came to the light and he is trying his best how to get the secret back into the back of the closet.

"Children come meet your Auntie Danny" he said and he brings the children over.

"Auntie? I am..."

My mother and Grandmother said together "Yes!, Dear, you are their aunt, remember?!" they looked at me with daggers.

So they will lie to these children. Am I that ugly, that shameful I should never be known as their sister, that I am not allowed to have a brother and sister. I am not allowed that closeness of siblings.

I tried to hide my tears welling in my eyes, I pushed the children aside and shoulder pushed the man out of my way. I turned to look at him in a way that said ' if you say anything I will knock you down and tell them the truth'. He dared not push his luck. I ran up to my room to cry properly.

I climbed out of my window, down the wall of the house to the wet ground. I ran in the rain, it hides tears so well. I ran over creeks, over hills, through fields to the old tree I first found the guitar, I could see the small cabin, Moses' cabin and stop and fell tot he ground. I realized he's not there anymore. I curled up under that tree, cried and cried, the rain being shielded from me. I fell asleep.

In my dream I went into the cabin. Moses is there we play chess. He wife, Precious , makes us lemon aide. She cuts cucumbers she picked in her garden and tomatoes. She sprinkles a little salt on and serves them to us.

I go to reach for one and she tells me I can not eat or drink here, but it would be rude for her not to offer.

I asked why.

"Moses says in his deep voice "Because if you eat food or drink in the land of the dead, child, you will not wake. And you have a lot of living yet." He smiles.

"Now little one, I know your heart id broken right now." Precious said. "Your mother was the same way when she would come visit us. That was long before my passing. She was there for my funeral, she sang at my funeral. It was shortly after that she left this place."

"So she came here too, did you teach her chess and the blues, too, just like me?" I looked at Moses.

"Yes, baby girl. She was good , too. Not like you. Never like you. I have never known anyone like you, child. Why do you think she is back here? Faith called her, told her what happened. Let her know it was her daughter who found me. She came back for the funeral." Moses said while moving his knight.

"I'm sorry you are dead. I miss you."

"Oh, child, I will always watch over you. You are never alone, you remember that. I am so sorry you found me. I didn't want you to see that. I know it is not your first dead body, but it was the first one you cared about." He moved his queen.

"How did you know..." I moved my rook.

"I'm dead. I know these things." He moved his bishop.

"Checkmate." I moved my queen.

"I can't even beat you dead" he chuckled.

"You are dead you old fool, not smarter. You remember THAT child, being dead doesn't make you smarter." Precious laughed.

I want to be with them, with this love I feel.I reach for a cucumber slice. "Child!" He slaps my hand "You still have things to do, important things."

"Like what?" I say sarcastically.

"I can't tell you. Just know it is true. But what I can tell you is that you promised to play the blues at my funeral, and you better keep your promise. If you don't I will haunt you all your days." And his eyes popped out of his head.

I screamed. I woke up. Wet. cold. I sat up and realized hour had passed. The rain had stopped. and there was a double rainbow over the hill. I ran and ran until I was immersed in the colours. I found the end of the rainbow it was by the lake. There was no gold...I felt immersed in the love of Moses and Precious. I felt the hatred and sadness of my mother and her family leave.

I could hear Moses say "It is was it, girl, you can't make the blind see, you can't make people understand what they can not. Dance in the rainbow, know your own love. Be your own love. Know you are perfect in every way. Even if no-one else can see it."


Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

E. Dickerson

Wednesday, 20 May 2009

video interlude

Some old blues. Some of these were covered in more modern times.

I wanted to give some music from the last two chapters.

I hope this got you in the groove for the music that was being played.

Saturday, 16 May 2009

Ugly p14

Summers last a long time in the south. Not as long as California. But long just the same.

I spent most my summers out of the house, away from the farm, after I did my morning choirs, that is. Cow still needed milking, chickens feeding and eggs found. As long as I did my choirs for a few hours in the morning no-one seemed to bother me much about anywhere else they didn't know I was.

I spent a lot of time with the old blues man and his family. During the week it was usually just me and him. Some nights he would go to town and sing at a local bar. I was told not to go down the day after he would play at the bar. The day after that would often smell of stale perfume and whiskey and old people sex. I remembered enough, enough flashes from my early years came back, I knew the score. I pretended I didn't . It made him feel better to keep me 'innocent of such things' as a child should be.

On the weekends women, men and children came over. Women cooked meals. And Sundays the whole family was over, cooking, cleaning, fussing, fooling. I loved it. It truly felt like home, like a family should. So warm, so loving, so filled with laughter, and anger at times, and caring. I liked that part the most , the caring. That and the good good food and music. Here, it didn't matter what you looked like, too fat, too skinny, too dark, too light, pretty , not pretty, you were all family, even when you weren't.

From ages 10 to 13 this is how I spent most of my free time. With my 'true' family. I felt I was misplaced. I finally found them. I learned to play. Playing the blues, playing gospel, and just playing in general.

The old man taught me how to play chess. We played almost every time I went over. He said he wanted to make me a world champion like Booby Fischer. Every time I played it got harder for him to beat me. He kept telling me how smart I was. He was the only one who did. I held on to those words for dear life at times. There are things people say to you good and bad that get ingrained into you so deep. He said these words over and over to me, every time we played. He ingrained that I am smart into me deep. I am very grateful he did.

I remember I just turned 13. My boobies started coming in a few months before. They were sore and boys would grab them just to be mean. The last one who did ended up with a shiner . As I said he was the last one who did. They thought better of it after that.

I was getting so self conscious of my changing body. I just started my woman time. I felt gross. My body was attacking me on so many levels, I smelt now, from everywhere. I took baths more often. Grandma told me my woman time was dirty. That I had to stop playing with boys and men now that they were evil and would lead me to sin. Nothing good would come out of me growing up, she would say to grandfather.

Luckily I still had my real family. The women there, they told me it was an existing time in a woman's life. That I was now a woman, I have entered into the sacred realm. I must act more lady like around boys and men, because they are now looking at me differently. That I had the power in the word 'NO' and I should use it often. They told me it was God's gift, the woman's time. It means I was able to have babies now. But the word 'No' was also my gift, just because I can doesn't mean I should. They said "Keep your legs locked at the knees when I walk or am with a boy or man. " I thought it was a weird way to walk.

The granddaughter I meet the first time, Hope, and her sisters, Faith and Love, made me a beautiful dress. It was yellow with butterflies of different colours on it. It was puffy in the bodice to give room to my growing breast and never showed them off too much. It flared when I spun. It had a pretty bow that tied at my waist.

They said "since you are a woman now, it was time you had a pretty dress. All women should have at least one pretty dress." I kept it at the old man's house. I would wear it there when it was time for Sunday family day. I would get there early, I even went to their church with them. It was so different than mine. There was a lot of singing and dancing and joy. Then back home to make Sunday dinner with the women. They would talk woman talk in the kitchen, so free and open. I learned a lot from them. Such joyful times.

When I would leave I would change back into my overalls and run back across the fields and streams, miles to the farmhouse that held little love or joy. Back to being scolded for being out, and straight to bed, no supper.

Months had gone by, summer was going by, it was now fall. One night , the night before Halloween, Hell night some say, I went over to play songs and chess with the old man. I had learned his last trick on the guitar. I mastered it. I was so happy with myself, proud even.

"That's it youngin', you have mastered all I know in music. Don't you go playing any honky tonk places now, at least not on the nights I am there, yeah hear." He said with a smile and a wink. He seemed tired tonight.

" I will make sure it is on nights you are not there. Got it."

We laughed a little. By then I had started making my own blues songs up, based mostly in the loneliness I saw in my mother back when I was young. The desperation for love. The old man, Moses, he thought I was talking about my own desire for love. I had no desire for that cursed thing yet. I saw how badly it hurt my mothers at the commune. I saw how it kept the women in Kentucky tied to their apron strings. Though I also saw how my real family here acted with love, when you were still in love after being married 20 years. How they still drove you crazy. There was a different song here with this family. One that flowed without trying to brake you. The one at my grandparent's house was always trying to brake you. Stopping to short, starting to quick. A song that sounded like a car backfiring.

We put down our guitars. He gave me that old one, cleaned it up, put new strings on it. We polished the rust that shellacked it, it is still different shades of rust and that is just like me. It fits me well, like my tailored dress. Faith had painted a butterfly on it when we were done polishing. Marked it as mine.

I set up the chess board. Moses put on the radio. We played 3 games.

While we played we talked.

"Tomorrow is Halloween. It is the time when the spirit world and our world is the closest."

I looked at him. I always thought it was about candy, but I had heard this one before.

"I aways think of my late wife. She was so beautiful. She died on Halloween. I think it was a real easy crossing because of it. I could feel her kin in the room. The ones that had crossed before. The room was real cold for 3 hours before she left. It was a warm Halloween, too. It had to be 90 degrees outside, there was no way all who sat with her needed sweaters, but we did. It was that cold in that room. She was hot though. I miss her something terrible this time of year."

He would always talk about his wife , with such love and longing for what have gone in his eyes this time of year. The day after Halloween, he would not bring her up again until the next October. I have been through this 3 times now. I always listen to him intently. Ever year the story of the cold room is the same. Sometimes he feels his cheek brushed when he tells it.

Tonight I thought I felt someone brush my cheek then putting their hand on my shoulder. It gave me the shivers. Ghost stories will do strange things to you.

The third game I won. Again I felt pride.

"I always said you were smart." Moses said as he started putting away the board.

"Hey! Aren't we going to play another game, you just let me win."

"Honey, I have never been THAT nice to you. You won, fare and square. You can beat all my tricks, all my strategies. You need someone smarter than me. That way you can beat that Bobby Fischer, than you can show them boys how smart womens really is. Because the old blues mens, we know, why do you think we sing about women all the time. I never let anyone win, unless they earned it."

I was disappointed. It was as if I climbed to the top of a huge mountain i had been looking at all my life and now that I was at the top, I had no idea what to do. Our friendship was based on 2 things, playing guitar and playing chess. It was our special thing. Now at the to of the mountain I didn't want to get down. At the top of the mountain, I saw no other mountains around.

One thing permeated my soul. WHAT NOW? I felt lost.

It must have showed all over my being.

"Girl, what you down about? Now you can come to me with new songs and tricks you have learned. But tonight I am tired." He smiled.

"I want you to promise me something, child." He said as I started getting up.


"I want you to play at my funeral, and don't let anyone tell you that you can not. You play any song the spirit moves you to play, promise me."

I stopped, never really seriously thought about him dying before. "Only if you promise to play mine." I tried to laugh it off.

"Butterfly, I am serious. I will never live to see your funeral, god willing, and that is the way it should be. Promise me." He was very serious now.

" Yes, I would, nothing could stop me." I said somberly and I hugged him around the neck.

"Children are born, the old ones die and in between you try to get by the best you can. Some better then others. It is a long strange trip. And before you get off that train, you hope you can pass on what you learned to one of the young ones. That's way they can build on it. That's how the wheel eventually became the car. It is the way God made it, who are we to question his plan. And when we are done we get to sing on the clouds and look down on the ones we left behind. I can;t wait to peep on people in the bath. HA HEE HAR." He always laughs at his jokes about being a ghost getting into mischief.

"Go home child, your grand pappy has no idea where you have been all these years, has he? Don't bother answering, just go home, I know he doesn't."

This shock me. I thought something I never thought before. He thought I was ashamed of him, of them, he thought I was afraid to tell them because they are black. Oh, no. I am not like that. I didn't tell them because I didn't want them to take this special family away from me.

"I loved you all too much to share you with them."

"I know child, and we loved you too much to let them know either. They are not like us, you and me. I know it is not shame, child. I just thought you should know I knew. Now go home. "

I smiled and started my run back. I felt uneasy. All this talk about death an funerals.

The next day I was getting my costume together. A farmer. Yeah, they didn't ever want to spend too much on me. I wanted to be a ghost at least, but grandmother said our sheets were too nice to cut up.

I went over to show Moses my costume for the Halloween dance, and to see if I could wear my dress instead. There was no answer at the door.

He must have been out. I wanted my dress so bad. And my guitar. Maybe I could be a country singer. Loretta Lynn, yeah. I knocked again. No answer.

A cold breeze chilled me.

I decided to get my dress and guitar. I opened the door, he never locked it. I yelled. "Moses you sleepin'?"

No answer. I went for the bedroom to get my dress. I went to the closet. Found it quick. But there was a strange smell. I wondered if some cat killed something and left it to rot. I took a look in the closet. I didn't see anything, until I turned around. This room was sure cold.

"Oh, Moses!"

You are with your wife now and all your kin that went before.

I grabbed my things. I ran out the door. I cried all the way to Hope, Love and Faith's house.

Monday, 11 May 2009

Ugly p13

Once upon a time you looked so fine, throw a bum a dime, in your prim, didn't you.

The music fades in my mind, a little more every sunset I see.

My mother loved that song. Like a Rolling Stone.

Now that I was standing still I really felt that song to my very core.

Life in Kentucky. What can I say. What can I say. It fit on my body like clothes that didn't belong to me. Too baggy here, too tight there, mostly too tight, especially around my neck, chocking the life out of me. Tight around the tummy, making me sick all the time.

They tried choak me, those closthes, those customs, those people.

Just like my mother tried escape, I was planing mine in my head.

My grandmother dressed me in overalls most the time. Said I was a tomboy. Grandfather would say, "No need to waist good money on pretty dresses or material on something so unpretty. Give her the boy's old clothes." There were other phrases like "can't dress up a pig, it's still a pig." and such. He didn't say them to my face. I guess that was his way of being nice. Mind you it was always in ear shot. Maybe he thought I was deaf or maybe it just eased his conscious to be out of my sight.

I didn't care. I didn't feel very pretty anyway. The overalls were tough enough to deal with almost all I threw at it. Climbing trees, running in the hills, catching frogs in creeks, skipping stones, running away from all day church when I could. Most of these things I did on my own. We all preferred it this way. Occasionally an aunt or an uncle would come looking for me. The times they came looking got longer and longer until they stopped coming.

School was well hell. What do they say "children are cruel". They is a great excuse never to correct your child. Boys are boys, children are cruel. These are things people say because they taught their kids to be nasty little ugly pieces of devil's spawn. That was ugly of me to say, but you see, I've meet their parents.

One hot summer Sunday while the others were at church, hearing about the "lord's plan for everyone" I stole away. I was about 10 years old. I remember I actually sat through a sermon the week before. Children usually are not allowed with the grownups, but since Sunday school seems to be disturbed by my presence. Let's put it another way. I got tired of hearing to be Jesus like and turn the other cheek when the other kids would tease me, pelt me with spit balls, punch me, etc, you know, all the good christian things. Did I mention my theory they were devil spawn? A month before this day I got a little Jesus in the temple on their butts. I turned over a few tables on them, reminded teacher that even Jesus had enough. Teacher had a little "talk" with my grandparents, ever since then, I sit with the grownups who don't throw spit balls, just dirty looks. This sermon, it was my last for a long time. The preacher was talking about the 'way of things' and 'God's great plan' for everyone. It was when he started talking about a woman needing a man to complete her was when I wanted to run up there and tell him what for. Even at that age I realized that if you can not complete yourself than no-one can do it for you. I saw too many women in the commune doing that. Sometimes I swear that was all the orgies were about, a desperate need to fill that piece of theirs soul they felt was missing, all this soul mate bull is the same. My mother the way she looked at oldest father at Woodstock. I understand why, if this is what she was told all her life.

Now you know why I hated church, foolish misogynist preachers. Oh he wasn't a one trick pony he hated more than just women. He really hated homosexuals. Man, oh man, and if they were woman homosexuals, he went on all day about them. There was some sort of tennis player in the 1970's he just never got tired of judging. I was always astonished how his list of people he wanted everyone to hate kept growing. Everyone seemed to go along with it with their Amens, my only option was to run away from that ugliness.

Walking in the fields I come across a rusty old steel guitar. Half under the tall grass near the old maple tree. All brown like leaves in the fall. At first I thought it was just a bunch of leaves. I must have passed it hundreds of times before and not noticed it. This time it called out to me. I pull it. I lost my grip and fell on my bum. I found a sharp rock and cut away some of the grass and weeds that entwined it to the ground. I pulled at it again, this time I landed on my bum again, but with the guitar in hand.

It was different shades of rust. I rubbed it down with my shirt. The strings were old and some broken. I started plucking at them. I didn't care that I wasn't making music, not like you are suppose to with a guitar, not like the people in the parks when I was a little one, not like my uncle on the porch at night. I plucked here and there , moved my fingers. I banged the front with my hand as if it was a drum.

I made an odd song. I imagined it was as old as the stars, older then the Earth itself. The rhythm and the tune changed, rhythmical weaved in and out.
I could see people in the plains in Africa, or at least what I imagined them to be. I saw cave men skinning their hunt. I saw people who live in the land of snow. I saw Suzy and the boys but they were living long ago. I saw children be born and grow old and die. It was if it was the song of time and it was all before me. I was so in the song there was nothing that could brake the spell.

"Ah!" I screamed as the guitar was ripped from my hands. It cut them slightly.
The spell was broken.

"What are you doing taken other people's stuff?!" The older man was yelling at me in a deep voice.

I turned and wanted to run, but he had his hand on my shoulder.

I turned towards him. he took a step back . I have seen that look all my life, they are shocked at my face. They don't know what to say. I took the opportunity to get away.

"Hey, you that child, daughter of Bobbie Sue. The one your grand-pappy went to go get in California." He yelled after me.

I stopped.

"Yeah, I know about you. The whole county do. The preactures warned us before you were introduced. So we would not say anything. Said we should not blame the child for the mother's sin."

I turned. He smiled. I thought I had fire erupting from my head. This explains why I was in the house for a month before they would allow me to be outside, bring me to school, the market or even their horrible church, Jesus forgive me for saying that.

I started stomping back. He sat by the tree and picked up another guitar. From behind the tree a younger black woman appeared all dressed up in Sunday go-to church clothes. "Granddaddy, that is horrible, what you said to that child! You appologize right now!"

He laughed "Apologize for what, telling her the truth. Hell, that moth on her face don't bother me. Ain't no sin. Ain't no sin most the people in this town haven't done that brings people into this world. Her mother didn't kill no-body, just did what the good lord made man and women for doing, anyway." He laughed at his granddaughters discust.

I was now back at the tree. "It is a BUTTERFLY not a moth!" Little did he know, my mother did kill someone, that is part of the reason I ended up in this back world place. "My name is Butterfly, I was given it by a real old Indian woman!"

"Ok, ok, Butterfly. My mother was Cherokee princess. Means we have something in common. Why don't you just ask if you want to learn to play." the old man said as he picked up the guitar and started strumming out this song. It sounded like the song the woman at Woodstock would sing. The one that my mother cried to. She is now dead, along with many other musicians that I meet in San Francisco. Every time one would die, my grand parents would point it out and say that could have been me. Or that they were just waiting for the call that it is their daughter.

"Don't be teaching that girl the blues, play some gospel, show her the Lord!" the younger woman said again.

"You think I am teaching this youngin something new? This child knows the blues! It was written for her. Preacher can teach her about the Lord, I was put here for different reasons. Shush now girl, I am playing." He said back to her.


Woke up this morning I looked 'round for my shoes
You know I had those mean old walking blues
Yeah, I woke up this morning I looked 'round for my shoes
Girl, I had those, ooh, mean old walking blues

Some people tell me that worried blues ain't bad
It's the worst old feeling I ever had
People tell me that worried blues ain't bad
It's the worst old feeling, ooh child, I ever had

Looks run to the ocean and the ocean runs to the sea
If I don't find my baby, don't bury me
Look to the ocean and the ocean went to the sea
Yeah, if I don't find my baby, ooh yeah, don't bury me

Minutes seem like hours and hours seem like days
Since my baby started her low down ways, yeah
Minutes seem like hours and hours seem like days
Since my baby, ooh, started her low down ways

I woke up this morning, people, I looked 'round for my shoes
You know I had those mean old walking blues
Yeah, I woke up this morning I looked 'round for my shoes
Yeah, you know I had those, ooh, mean old walking blues


He sang, and sang and sang. I stayed there all afternoon long. The young woman brought us lemonade and at the end we all went to Sunday dinner. This was some great food. I wish my grandmother cooked like this. Then back out to the tree and he sang some more. As the sun started going down. I ran home, the blues songs dancing in my head.

"Where have you been all day?" grandmother said.

"If you think you get supper after running all over creation on the Lord's day you are sadly mistaken there , girlie!" grandfather said.

I bowed my head and went up the stairs to my room. I pretended I was hungry, even managed a tear.

"That will show her." He said " a hungry belly will do her good, teach her a lesson."

In reality I could not fit in another bite.

Saturday, 9 May 2009

6 things

I was tagged by Silver Fox.

He wants me to write 6 things about me. HA HA HA my children take up five of them and I am six.

There are six people who live in the older farm house. Once it was brimming with more children. Once it held renters. Back in the 1920's my great grandmother would rent out rooms in this house. It helped pay for food on her table for her many children. She farmed the land with her children, since many of the lots were sold off over time. now what is left is what I have. I still grow vegetable for my children here. The ghosts of the pasts generations of my family haunt these walls. Not in a way I would call ghost hunters after. Egon, put down that plasma stream. No, no ,no. They walk theses halls, live in the rooms, watching over my children.

My grandmother once told me , men come and go. They have in my life. She also told me, rely on yourself, own your own home and car. And I do. She said when men leave, they will not leave you destitute is you listen to my advice. She was right.

Grandmother also told me always to have a garden as fresh food is always the best for your children. In our times of engineering food and where most items have more ingredients than you would ever think or could pronounce, it is never a bad idea to grow your own.

My fondest memories of childhood always included my imagination.

Anglophile all the way. Captain jack can take me anywhere he wants, especially if its a trip in the tardis.

I think that is 6.
I tag, Sparkle, Redbeard, Jesse, Jayne, Lois lane and cake. They , if they wish, should write 6 things about themselves, creatively as they want, mention me in the post and tag 6 more people.

I think I did the rules right.

And now for your reading pleasure, the next installment of UGLY.