Ishat's Fire and Ice

Time Passes Slowly

2010-01-01T17:22:00.003-05:00

Time passes slowly while you are waiting for life to happen.

Winter becomes spring and planting seasons. Children keep growing. Mercy follows me everywhere. She helps me feed the chickens and ducks. She helps me plant the the fields. When Charisma is there she does as well. I have the older girls help me get the soil ready. They are tired of this choir.

The day to day of planting and feeding and gathering eggs leaves my mind to wander. It wanders to the clubs, to men I will never have or see again.

The girls are still a little too young to leave by themselves so I can go out to the single bars or any other place I could find a man and not scare them away immediately by four fighting children. Maybe in another year, so I count down the days until Freedom turns 13. She should be old enough to watch her sisters while I nip out for a few hours once a week.

Until then, I decided I will just take the girls out to all the little fairs and festivals around town. Socialize enough to be known. Not seen as a freak. Or if nothing else, be around enough that it bothers the old bitches.

With Spring comes Strawberry festivals all over New England. These as usually sponsored by the churches in the center of these towns. Our town was just the same. So I packed the girls up and off we went.

Sack races, face painting, children singers, strawberry pies and other strawberry like pastries for sale.

We did it all. I cheered the girls on. Charisma fell in the egg race. Before I could get to her Tom had picked her up. I nodded thanks to him. He smiled back.

Later the girls wanted a snow cone and cotton candy each with a hot dog. I have told them before the Strawberry festival not to ask me for anything because we ate before and we will eat after. I realize that $20 for my girls all to have these things each is not much to many people, but that can be the whole weekends worth of food for all of us. I tried to say many things to them to get them to stop, but they were using public pressure to their leverage.

I heard one guy say "cheapskate, get your kids some food."

Oh I stopped and looked him right in the eye. I was about to explain the difference 7between cheep and poor using him and what ex wife says about him paying his child support had said about him when Tom saved his lousy judgmental-throwing -stones-in-glass-houses butt. How he save him? Before I could say what was in my mind, Tom had already bought the children all what they wanted.

I opened my mouth to protest, I don't want to be seen as so poor I would take from strangers, When he said "Hey, Emma, I am so glad you let me pay you and the girls back for the dinner you cooked for me and mother last week when she was ill." He handed me a burger and soda.

Tom looked at the jerk who made the remark "Hey, Joe, I see you didn't bring your kids, why not?"

"The bitch wouldn't let me have them, it's my weekend, too!" Joe said angrily looking at me.

"She usually only does that when you are more than a month behind in the old child support checks." Tom said with a smile as she led me and the girls away from the mother hating bitter ex husband.

"Don't mind him, he's a douche and everyone knows it " Tom said to me.

"Thanks. But I don't like to take charity. " I said back. "I really need to pay..." before I could reach into my purse or finish my sentience Tom stopped me.

"Hey, no, it's not like that. I just wanted to shut Joe up. Thank you for letting me put him in his place. He has been rubbing on my very last nerve for over a year now."

I looked at him as if I half believed him.

"If it makes you feel any better you can make me a supper. Than it is a truth. I could use a woman's home make meal any way. Tomorrow night? "

" That's fine, what do you like to eat?" I said hoping it wasn't something expensive.

"I'm not fussy, anything really. Just whatever your girls would eat on Sunday night. "

"Alright than, don't forget your mom." I said as we shook on it.

"Why would I bring her?"

"Because you told Joe I made supper for both of ya. I don't want to make a liar out of you." I said with a grin.

The girls and I parted with Tom and finished our day at the fair.

Sunday I was anything but lazy. I spent the morning cleaning.

The afternoon I was trying to make a Sunday meal that would be fitting of company.

I made some corn bread.

I had some wine left over from Christmas.

I made some brown rice.

I have chicken, mushrooms, garlic, ginger, pepers, onions, celenrto and soem itialian seasonings and cracked pepper. I put it all together with some of the wine. A little for the chicken a little for me.

I defrost a pie for deseart.

All came together by the time Tom and his mother showed up.

Tom's mom said to me apone entering my house, "I undestand you have to feed us to make my sure my son is not a liar. That is a good a reason as any to get out of the house and not have to cook."

She enjoyed the girls and we had a little too much wine all of the adults.

The food went over well and it was a much better evening than I suspected it might be.

The evening ended short as school was still in session at least for a few more weeks.

Could it be I might actually make some friends in this place?

Who knows but it's worth a ponder.

As we said our goodbyes Tom's mum said "Next time dear, have a proper date with my son." She winked as she said. " I can watch the little darlings."

"MOM! This was just her paying me back for the carney food at the church. " He smiled at me as if to say she was senile.

"Tom, next time ask the girl out proper!"

This was going on all the way to the car. I closed the door but listened through it at the same time.

The court of the Chrimism King

2009-12-31T21:22:00.009-05:00

Christmas morning we woke I started making pancakes for 10. It felt good. Eggs, scrambles, sunny side up, pooched, pancakes, plain and candy cane flavor. I felt more like a short order cook than a blues musician. I felt there was a lot of love going on in my house, more so than I had in a very long time.

Girls wanted to open presents, I wanted to wait until after church. JuJu Bee scold me for torchering my children and they all ganged up against me to open one each.

Mercy and Charisma opened a Barbie each. Solace and Freedom opened up a CD each. Chumbawamba and Mariah Carey. They had me open one too. A Bob Dylan album I never saw before, Time out of Mind. Music all around. I put it in while we all got dressed. Bob was sounding more like an old blues man but not quit there yet.

Oh, dressing for church was a spectacular to behold. Mizty was telling each of the girls they could not look like their club slut selves but like a good church going woman and if they couldn't pull that off they needed to dress like a man.

Walking into to church, slightly late as to make the perfect entrance, was something I wish I had my camera for. Eric and Mizty went in first. Mizty in modest heals and a light blue tasteful tweed dress with fox trim on her stole.

The next two dressed as men, with pencilled in thicker brows and thin mustaches.

Next was JuJu Bee, in red. A respectable red dress, but red none the less. with each of my youngest daughters in hand. Now where the whole congregation was skeptical of the sexes of most of the people before, most the men where looking like they were going to pop a button when JuJu came down. They definitely could not tell. I must explain to her that bras are a must for church.

Next my older two daughters followed by me, trying hard not to laugh.

Don't you know that Mizty insisted on sitting near the front. We all sat piece by piece to fit in towards the front. Eric and Mizty in one pew, and so forth back until I covered the rear.

The whole place was silent, including the preacher as we walked in and sat down. At first I don't know if it was the fact Mizty was black or if it was that she was a he that threw them off more. There are no people of colour in my little town. The combination was priceless.

The preacher finally spoke: "Christmas is a time of friends, family, neighbors coming together and worshiping as one. It is a time for loving thy neighbor as they self. It is a time of charity and good will to all humankind. It is un-Jesus like to judge others on his birthday. It is a time of bringing new friends to celebrate his birth to church as Emma has, as Nancy has, and as Alice has done." He waved his hand to each of the woman he was talking about, as I was not the only one bringing people to church today, he nicely pointed it out. " So I say, welcome new friends, lets worship the lord together."

"AMEN, PREACHER" Mizty said as if we were in a Southern Baptist church.

I did giggle a little then into my hand. Tom looked back at me and smiled. I think I have found someone in this town who has a sense of humor.

The rest of the mass went like that. A little Southern Baptist from Mizty, a little jazzing up the tunes from all of the girls. They encouraged my girls to sing the same way, and they did. You know I had to follow suit.

Finally Preacher gave up and asked me to sing a bit with his guitar. Guess who were my back up singers. It seems no-one else wanted to join in. But I think the preacher was having his own good time with it, for what ever reason, maybe he wanted to get back at the nasty women there or he just liked a little pizazz in his music today.

Afterwards, of course , my friends needed to join the precision of well wishers and greeters to the preacher. The men were drooling even more over JuJu Bee. Oh her breasts are real because of the hormones but so is his manly bits. But they couldn't see that. She even got invited out to Christmas dinner by some of the more bolder bachelors in town. One of the boys who dresses like a girl dressed as guy came over and let them all know she was taken.

Tom came up and wished us Merry Christmas and referred to all the queens as ladies, even the ones dressed as men.

"Does he remind you of anyone?" Eric said.

"Just like all the other farmers." JuJu said.

"Let's get home, girls, I want to eat and open presents!"

We laughed all the way home at the reaction in church.

Home. We started on dinner and sang songs of the seasons, opened more presents, laughed and drank some more. I got some nice sexy dresses. The girls some nice toys and music. Freedom even got her own disc-man so she can have her private music.

They were so generous to us.

I was so said when they left that night.

The ghosts of laughter lingered and kept me warm through New Years Day.

My house that was filled with joy and love seemed so lonely all of a sudden.

Higher Ground.

2009-12-26T23:18:00.003-05:00

The solar panels got up before October and the snow fall. There was only a few hundred dollars left to the royalties check. I accomplished something and that was all that counted.

All the excitements is over. I started getting into all too familiar ruts. Day to day life gets you there. I was mom MUM than woman. I cooked, I cleaned, I helped with homework, I got up and started it all over again. After several weeks of that the thrill of Chrystal wore off. It seemed like a decade since I saw the girls and Eric.

I don't really like this role of MOTHER. It takes everything away from a woman. I guess it is fine if that was all you wanted to be in life. I don't get the people who choose to be mother and mother only. But they also choose to be wife and all that comes with that.

When Charisma lost her first tooth right before Halloween it made me painfully aware she had no father to tell. All those mile stones feel a bit lost. There is no-one else to share it with, other than the other girls, who range from 'I could care less' to 'she better not get more than my last tooth'.

Sometimes I feel bad for him for missing all these little things. Than I remember I haven't received a birthday card, Christmas gift or even a child support check in over a year. I remember he has a new family and will still experience it with the replacement children.

Then I realize I feel bad for my daughters. This town is filled with the normal two parent families. It really is painful when teachers make the girls make father's day presents or cards. When the girls protest "I have no father", they are told "everyone does". Crying does happen on father's day and Christmas and when other children ask where their father is at odd times.

This town is not equipped to deal with single mothers and their children. They keep trying to remold the children into the two parent family that just doesn't exists.

Then I realize this is the children's reality. Some of them are growing up not even remembering he was here. The older two lament and wonder why he doesn't love them any more. The younger ones shrug and tell people openly they don't have a father and he ran away with a tart and started a new family. They have showed a lot of the towns people who are not used of such honesty.

Then I realize it is me who hurts. And sometimes not having someone to share those times with hurts me most of all. I had wanted more for my daughters.

Thanksgiving comes and goes. We have a modest meal. I killed a turkey in the woods. I had to do this all when the girls were not around. I found myself waking up very early to pluck it's fathers and gut it. Somethings I learned on the farm growing up have come in handy. Tom saw me in the market picking up some extras for the feast and asked why we haven't been in church lately. I made up something flippant about exploring witchcraft. Then laughed. I really just don't feel like being judged by a whole building of people. I am doing a good job of that myself.

I managed to keep up the phone bill this long so I treated myself to a call to Eric. I asked him when he was going to make good on the promise of visiting me in East Bum-fuck. I was hoping the name I dubbed it would peak his interest. He said soon. You know the soon that you don't put too much of your hopes and dreams on. He said Crystal asked about me once or twice, but he found himself a nice girl that lives in Boston. I wasn't holding out any hopes for a relationship on that one. He was only really a few night stand.

Black Friday. It is the best time to get really cheap clothes, each girl gets new pajamas, shoes, jeans and a top and new undies. Amazingly this coast more than you might think when you times it by four. But that is my Christmas budget. I refuse to go beg. Maybe I should rethink that. But as of yet I still have my pride. Even if the school nurse, teachers and principles have all person called me to let me know where the free toys for Christmas were.

Sometimes I think my pride gets in the way of my children's happiness. Part of me hopes Ian will send a huge box for each child full of toys and chocolates. He will see the light and realize he needs to be a good dad. The more practical side of me says he has just plainly forgot we even existed. Out of sight out of mind, like a infant.

We trim the fake tree in half homemade things such as popcorn strings and ornaments. Funny I remember when we only got one present each. Today children are expecting a pirates booty of gifts. I wish I could turn the television off until after new years. Anyhow Cindy left the computer. That should be good enough for one year. Not to mention I tell them they have electricity for Christmas.

Christmas Eve and we are making cookies. It is truly fun. Freedom is glued to the computer emailing her aunt and chatting to some friends. I really need to sit down and learn how to us it. I always seem too busy. I will, I promise myself, New Years resolution.

A knock on the door.

We all stop and look at each other.

We all knew where Cindy was, she was at our brother's house in the Northwest, Freedom was just talking to her.

Maybe it's Ian with presents. I didn't say it, but I think the thought when through us all at the same time by the existed look in the girl's eyes.

Knock again with a Ho Ho Ho.

The girls get existed and demand I open the door.

I open the door.

Not Ian, that's for sure.

There was a 6 foot something black drag Mrs Clause with a shorter fashionable Santa, There were three drag Santa helpers and 5 full sacks of goodies.

Ho Ho Ho.

"Girlfriend, you going to just stand there or are you going to let us in, it is cold than a witch's tit out here!"

"AHHHHH " I scream as I hug them all as each came in.

The girls just stare as the Clauses come in.

The sacks get put down by the tree.

"Oh, these are the girls!" Mizty proclaimed and went up to each one. The younger ones except them all. The older ones step back and look with caution.

"Freedom, Solace, these are my good friends from Boston. They are alright people." I said. They still look cautious.

"They'll come around, they are your daughters after all, don't worry about it, darling" Eric said.

"Look we brought Christmas spirits!" said JuJu Bee and she pulled out 4 bottles. "I hope we have enough?"

Christmas just looked up.

"Do we get to open the bags now?" Charisma asked and all the girls nodded in agreement.

I looked at the adults. "One present, the one that is under the tree. Everything else will be tomorrow morning. "

A chorus of "Awwww, Ma" came from adults and children alike. But I figured what was in the bags were a lot better than the clothes they were about to open.

The girls opens their clothes and were slightly disappointed.

"No go to your rooms and put your new jammies on, than we will finish with our night with out friends."

With that they rushed up to their rooms.

"I have a few extra rooms , PLEASE stay." I said back to my old gang.

"Sweetie, you don't have a choice!" Juju Bee said

"We weren't going to leave without seeing the gifts opened." Siouxie said with a kiss to my cheek.

"You actually have a fireplace! Any chestnuts?" Barbie said

"This is so absolutely country! Darling, we have to say we went on holiday in the country for an old fashions Christmas!" Mizty said to Eric as they were all settling down.

"I am happy you are all staying, and yes, I do have chestnuts, we have a chestnut tree. I saved some for tonight to roast. Luckily for me, some is about 10 pounds."

Cheers went around the room.

"Let me find some glasses." I said as I ran around the kitchen.

"And what time is Christmas mass, Butterfly?" Mizty said so matter a factly. "Oh darling, Eric, go get the bags."

"Mass? We stopped going to church." I am busy looking for glasses so she can;t see my stunned look.

"I NEVER miss Christmas mass! It is the only time I catch up with my lord and savior, he wears a dress , too, we have a lot in common. So we are all going to Mass, do you understand me!" Mizty sounded a bit miffed that I would suggest we would not be going.

I got the glasses and the idea of drag queens coming to the little odd church with the star if David in it on Christmas sounded very appealing, everyone likes a Christmas surprise , right?

"9 am, plenty of time to get ready after opening presents or should we open presents after church?!"

"9 am is early, I think we should open them after" Eric decided.

"Then it is settled." The girls returned to a bunch of ahs and ohs from the queens. "Girls presents will be opened after church tomorrow."

Hot Chocolate, wine, Rum and chestnuts were served. We all broke out in song. Mizty at the piano, me with my guitar. We haven't sang in this room since Ian left and this, I must say, was far more fun.

And some stories waited for the girls to go to bed.

Mother should I build a wall

2009-12-26T14:36:00.001-05:00

The Crystal affair left me in a high even after he left to be with his family for a week. His father had past and he needed to make arrangements and help his family as any good son would.

I offered to go and help. But in reality we didn't know each other well enough and I was now part of a world he never wanted his family to know about.

We left with a hug and a kiss and promises to meet up again after he returned.

Eric helped with the bar tending and I made a bit more money with my singing.

Time flew that week, first part of the week letting loose my carnal desires and the second with my head in the clouds. It's Saturday again.

As the girls are finishing up their set Mizty at the microphone says "Hey, people, don't forget we are open during the long holiday weekend, so don't be a stranger. Strange is fine, a freak is better!" He made a meow sounds and some lude moves.

I laughed.

Than thought ' what holiday weekend?!'.

"Have a great Labor Day if we don't see you again! And if you are drunk, don't drive. Seriously we have numbers of cabs by the door, and the door boy wont let you drive if you are drunk."

Labor Day, shit shit, school, shit shit, Labor Day, shit shit school. Fuck, I got to get home. Cindy's going to kill me, I asked her for a few weeks. It's been a month. Shit. I am turning into my mother. Shit. I want to stay here. Shit just call me Bobbie.

I must have had a weird look on my face and for some time, I didn't see the show end fully, I didn't see the people leave, I didn't see people cleaning up. I didn't see Mizty and Eric in front of me.

"How long the girl been like this?" Mizty asked Eric

"Since you made the announcement about driving drunk."

Slap. Across my face a black hand with well polished nails.

"Shit, Labor day, Shit, School, Shit, Kids, Fuck!"

"Ah" they said together, and looked with a knowing smile "she remembered she has children. "

I stopped my chant.

They looked at me.

"Child, if you didn't wake up soon we were going to do it for you on Monday morning." Eric said.

"Yeah, we I was a little girl, first day of school was the day after Labor Day." Mizty said

They looked at each other again.

"I gotta go!" I said.

"You gotta go, than go, after supper though." Eric said.

We went home to the flat. We cooked, we ate, I packed. We exchanged addresses, and their phone number, as I don't have one. I counted my money, enough to get through winter with. To get food. Some clothes for the girls. Some oil for the tank. I drank lots of water to flush out the booze.

We hugged by the car. We invited each other to each houses. I made them promise to visit. And I started home. It is 3 am and I am going home.

The drive took two plus hours to get home. The dawn was coming up on the ride home. I could see it in my rare view mirror. I felt I was running away from the sun, from my own happiness. Logically one would not want to run into the darkness. The thought that I was being just like my mother, running away from my children to start a happier life snapped me back. They will never understand how much of myself I am giving up for them. And in the end I think they will despise me anyway, it is the nature of children as they grow to dislike their parents for the things they did or didn't do. But in the end we will have each other and I will not hate me. Some sacrifices are worth the price that is paid.

I pulled into my long drive way. Cindy's car was there covered in dew. I could hear the sounds of the chickens. It was so quite here. I forgot. I don't hear the girls. I go up to the door and unlock it. I can hear people sleeping. Mercy always snored since she was a baby. I resisted waking them all up for my sake.

The house is a lot cleaner. Some changes were made, furniture rearranged, new pieces here and there. And is that a new t.v. in the corner not too far from the other t.v.?

I got out the griddle. I got out the ingredients for pancakes. I started making pancakes. The noise woke Cindy first. She came out of my room with a baseball bat.

"Hi sis." I smiled at her "Want some pancakes?" I said as I handed a plate out towards her.

"Hi sis?! You left a month ago! You said a week or so! You needed som time to digest Mom's death! A WEEK!" She was not happy. I expected she might not be.

"SHHHHHHH. You'll wake the girls with a start with all this yelling." I smiled as if we were just normal sisters having a normal argument. Not me having to take my medicine for leaving for a month.

She glared at me and breathed in deep. I could tell she was about top yell louder.

I cut it off quick. "So did you get to bond with the girls? They are great aren't they. Smart and loving. " I smiled as if we were really having a normal breakfast conversation. I finished setting the table and flipped pancakes.

"BONDING! YES they are loving and smart and wondering where there mother was. I THOUGHT I WAS ABOUT TO ADOPT THEM!" She is getting loud again. "HOW COUDL YOU? do that to them? What kind of mother are YOU?!" Now she is in my face.

"What kind of MOTHER am I?! I came back. That is a lot better than Bobbie ever did for me! She abandoned me with those nasty people in the middle of nowhere and started another family and became perfect mom of the year with YOU! Tell me? How much did she leave you when she died?" Now I am glaring at her.

"Mom was a great mom! How much was left to me is NONE of your business! I can;t help it if you were a mistake! Don't diminish MY MOTHER!"

"So unlike me, she never dropped you off at a relative's house you never meet and never came to visit you, she didn't tell your siblings you don't know of that you were their aunt and she didn't have sex around you? Damn, you missed out on all the fun! I but her pet name for you wasn't Ugly , either! You poor neglected girl? Hey, how much did she leave me? Or my girls, her granddaughters she never saw!"

We were in each other faces. She was as judgemental as our granny. And I was trying not to be Bobbie, but man my rage over all those years was coming out, unfortunately the sister with the charmed life and the perfect family is the one who got it.

"HOW MUCH?" I demanded to know.

"NOTHING."

"I can see why she wanted to forget about such a throw away person like you. She wanted forget she had such a demon spawn. I can't help I was born with a perfect face and after she was done with the drugs, I can't help you were the product of a teenage runaway and a drugged out hippie. Someone who would so easily forget her own children and abandon them with a stranger."

She was being very self righteous right now.

"You were not a stranger, you were their aunt. A family they didn't know they had. I left them with FAMILY, not a STRANGER. "

"MAMA!" the sound came from the entrance of the kitchen to the hallway that lead to the bedrooms. It was my girls.

I smiles and went over to them, hugged and kissed them all.

"Don't fight!" Mercy looked at me.

"Yeah, you are sisters! You are not supposed to fight all the time. You are not supposed to make each other hurt!" says Solace

"Right, Mum? Sisters are not supposed to make each other cry. Isn't that what you always say?" Freedom added

"AHA" Charisma chimed in.

"Yes, yes, you are right. Right, Auntie Cindy? Sister's aren't supposed to hurt each other." I look over to Cindy.

She tries to hide her anger and pain. Just as I am doing. The girls never knew what my mother did to me. Never knew much about my childhood beyond the good things I told them about hunting frogs and Moses. Freedom doesn't even know the name of her father. Nor the circumstances of her birth. Since I made her a British citizen as a baby she didn't even know she was born in America. Even the girls born here I made British citizens.

We sat and ate breakfast. They missed my pancakes.

"Girls go get ready for church." Cindy said when we finished.

"Church?" I said, not really wanting to go back.

"Yes! Church, we go every week." She said back to me.

Church was odd, as normal. I could hear whispers about me.

"She back?!"

"I thought she left for good. "

"Those poor girls! Why couldn't she just stay away. I wonder if that nice Cindy is going to leave now."

I looked each one of those bitches in the eye. Being with Queens taught me a lot about self respect. You know backstabbing bitches seldomly want to look you in the eye.

As Church ended the preacher reminded us of the church and town fair and bon fire the next day.

I was surprised I made it through church without passing out. I didn't make it much mast the living room without falling asleep on the couch.

It was dark by the time I woke up. Cindy and Freedom had made Sunday dinner. Roast chicken and veggies. The smell woke me up. Solace was on the small t.v. and Charisma and Mercy were on the big one.

"Hey, " I said to Cindy as I got up. "I;m sorry I was driving all night. I didn't mean to fall a sleep on you."

"Hey, your home, that's all that matters. " Cindy smiled back at me and the girls.

"What's with the small t.v.?" I said, not really understanding why we needed two, never mind two in the same room.

They all laughed a little.

"O.k. let me in on the joke."

"That's a computer." Charisma said.

"O.k." I said examine it. I never had one. I saw one. But it wasn't something I really cared about.

After supper I got caught up on the Internet, and when the phone rang, I found out Cindy also paid the phone bill and got it turned back on. It seems from opening my mail, all the bills were caught up too.

I had some crow to eat. Cindy said it was alright.

I explained all the money I made when I was gone. First thing she wanted to know was if I did it legal. I just told her I played gigs. I didn't explain where or who I was with. Too much. Hell I finally got her to see me a a normal person again.

In the mail was also a note from Kim. With a check. It seems since no-one can contact me he , as my relative , negotiated for a company to use one of my songs in an ad. This was lucrative. Enough money for some solar panels. It would take care of a lot of my energy problems for the year. I know most people would go spend it on a new car or something frivolous. But I am always thinking about the long term tomorrow. This is country life. I am back in Mama mode.

The next day we went to the fair. We all had fun, we all were a family. The girls signed me up for the talent contest.I sang it with all the attitude I had in the clubs. I didn't care that I was in a small town.

I didn't care that no-one here liked me and wished I'd stayed away.

Oh, I liked to mix it.

And the towns people, well it seems a lot of them liked my music.

I lost. But true enough the winner was a cute little girl. I got second prize.

"Hey Emma. I thought you were just great!" Tom said as he came up to me all smiling.

Tom is a bit older than me, by about 5 years. He is about 5 inches taller too. A bit of teddy bear. He is one of those normal guys that tend not to talk to me, ever.

"Thanks, Tom."

"You should be yourself more often. Seems like someone or something turned on the Emma light while you were gone."

"Emma light?"

"I got it from a movie I saw once. It means it's better to be yourself than trying to be someone else. I guess."

"Thanks, Tom." I smiled at him.

A second later my girls came and dragged me away to watch them in the sack race.

It was a good day. We were all tired.

Cindy told the girls at supper that she had to go and might not see them for a while.

Tears ensued. Promises to keep in touch via email and phone were said.

The next day was the first day of school and Cindy and I got the girls off to school. After the school bus left so did Cindy.

I got cracking on getting some solar panels with Mercy by my side.

Life is so different than a week ago. All my time is spoken for again.

I need a man

2009-12-25T23:16:00.001-05:00

The next week I gave up on the idea of a one night stand.

The guy at the bar and finding more solace in the bartender was making things clearer. We find comfort where it comes, not where we look for it.

Or like I have become fond of saying in my head: "Boys are stupid."

I still played the other bars a few nights a week and came back to the gay bar at night or played before the shows. I made good money. And got lots of hugs and cuddles from the boys and girls of the club. This seemed good enough. It was more than I had had in years. It reminded me of something all humans need. Without it we become distant, detached, and plainly unable to connect.

Love. Sex. Why we crave it? Well, why I craved it. Human connection. Not even pleasure. Since pleasure is but a means to connection which is my real goal . Now I understand, such an aha moment, the love the boys and the girls who are boys give me works. It works on so many levels.

Anyway, getting your time of the month is a great time to say "forget getting laid, I need a cuddle.".

Cuddles I got. The bartender made sure of it. Though every night he got a little more grabby. I think he was just making sure they were real. My girls, that is.

Finally, Saturday came, my Aunt Flow left. I was feeling myself again. I must tell you sharing house with a boy pretending to be a girl and being a real girl with real girl things happening was a little odd. I found myself trying very hard to hid the evidence. Triple bagged it. Stuffed it under bad food in the trash. Mizty still manged to figure it out quickly.

"Honey, only women bleed!" He smiled "You need to stop acting like a girl with her first blood."

And Eric laughed. "I almost forgot about that. She's right Honey, don't be ashamed you don't have a penis. What did you think we were going to send you to the lesbians for a week?" He laughed again and kissed me on the cheek.

Almost a week past.

Tonight is Saturday night. It is warm outside, the walk through the streets from the gay club to the singles bar I was playing at was a pleasant one. I was all revved up to try again. Visions of men parts and naked arms in embraces went through my head and I hardly noticed the mile walk at all. It is still about 76 degrees is this arm late summers night in Boston.

I got to the bar, streaming with beautiful and not so beautiful people, mostly under 30. I was feeling a bit old. But I snapped out of it, so what if the homme du jour is a little younger, as long as he knows how to use his equipment to my satisfaction.

I sat up at my stool, took out my guitar. I began to play some songs to set up the mood while looking for perspective prey. I feel like such a hunter and the sings work for the crowd anyway.

The funny thing about this bar, is that most of the patrons are white. I see a few bigger girls in the audience. You know they need some attention too. I had to play a song to remind the men not to ignore them.

Funny in a more mixed race crowd this would not be necessary, but it seems to work, I see some men asked them to dance, and boy, are they enjoying themselves. I love to see that. It is getting me into the mood even more.

It seem the magic of music , the whipping the air into a lusty potion worked. For them. Not me. They all paired off. There were some older gents left. But I am not about to go that far older than me just yet.

I fell good anyway. Being turned on. But I was the magician in the middle, I was Mickey Mouse, making it all happen. All the mops dancing about. There is a good feeling to that too, even if I was not involved in the end results.

The tip glass was over flowing by all the happily horny people who left and that was a wonderful bonus. Got paid, by the owner, and headed back to the Cabaret. That's what it is called by the way. Simply The Cabaret.

The walk back was still warm and pleasant. The summer haze of the city obscured the stars, but I was sure they were there, at least I remember when I looked up to see them and I could see them. Just not here. I feel briefly that I should be someone where else where the stars are very clear and bright and there are not car sounds at midnight only that of animals on the hunt for some tasty unsuspecting morsel.

The sounds of the beginning of the last song of the show shooed the thoughts out of my head.

Chrystal, the blond busty bartender, smiles at me and hands me a drink "this a something I have been toying with, hope you like it?"

"Thanks, beautiful." I smiled back and started sipping, fruity, Malibu, and very delightful. " It's good, what do you call it?"

"Butterfly. I am glad you like it, otherwise the name would have been awkward." he winked at me as he went to the other side of the bar to get all the drinks ready for last call.

When last call was done, Chrystal came back to me with my last Butterfly drink. " So, no luck again tonight?"

"Naw, but that's o.k.. I set the mood for a lot of other people, sex is in the air."
I said really meaning it.

"Everyone but you? Been that way here, too."

"No luck for you either?" I smiled at him.

"Ah, none of them my type, beautiful." He winked at me in a playful way.

"Back at yeah, beautiful"

The people were all most out of the bar.

"Play me a song while I clean up, wont you?" Crystal asked lovingly. "You know how much I like your music, sing me a woman, sing me something hopeful, sing me something sad."

"You don't ask for much Crystal, do ya? Is Janis o.k.?"

"Always."

By the time I was down with the last song he was sitting by me. The bar and tables all cleaned up. Mizty was still not ready. I put my old guitar away.

"That was beautiful, Honey."

"Thanks. Glad I could be of service." I said with a smile.

I sat back down back down next to him. I cuddled into his arm. Dressed as a woman or not, I was still small compared to him and his arms are still strong. He just has boobs bigger than mine in the way. They do make good head rests. And so they have become my favorite pillows of late.

I stretched up my neck to kiss him on the check like I usually do and he met my lips with his. First I thought, 'our lipsticks will clash, I am not really a pink lipstick person'. The second thought was 'This is not just a peck' as our mouths opened up.

Time stopped in there for a while. My first real kiss from a man in years and his lipstick clashes with mine.

Mizty proclaimed "Now that is the way to kiss a transvestite! You could give lessons, Baby!"

I broke out of my spell.

I looked at Chrystal and then to the girls all watching us.

"DAMN!" Chrystal proclaimed with his lips pressed tight. "Ahhhhh!" And again he presses his lips and a tear ran down his cheek.

Mizty looks at him over top to bottom and laughs full bodily. "Oh, doll, did you just pop your tape?"

The rest start giggling.

"Tape?" I am confused, by more than tape. "Wait, Chris, aren't you gay?"

"Baby girl, he popped his tape for you! What do you think?" The Asian queen, JuJu Bee, said.

I just looked confused.

"The tape to hold his winkle down, for that all so smooth girl like muffin instead of the bulgy boy look that poor Chrystal now has." She giggles at his pain as she wiggles like a girl.

"I'm not gay!" Chrystal said as he came close to me again. "I like girls, so much so I like being a girl, but I am still a man. And I like you."

With that he leaned in and kissed me again.

A chorus of "awww" came out.

"Let's work this out at my place, o.k." He said with a smile.

Off to his place we went.

I was so used of seeing him as Crystal that without the wig, without the makeup, the short cropped hair and shaven body we very odd to me. He has to convince me a bit he was still Chrystal, the one who loved Janis Joplin songs.

I must say we had fun exploring this for the next few days.

Detail would be pornographic, and a lady doesn't get that crude. I will say I felt loved and connected to the rest of humanity and wonderful pleasure. I felt like a sexual being again.

Across the Universe

2009-12-11T22:47:00.007-05:00

Time flies when you are having fun. And I have tried to breath in every great smelling man in the club and remember every second of the reemerging me. I know this time will be over all to soon.

Ever feel that way? You realize the storm lays beyond the horizon, you know you want to stay safe and warm. You try the best you can to rejoice in the warmth of the sun, but your knowledge of the storm lingers in your mind.

I have been here a week.

Now about this time I realize I need to go back. I also have a overwhelming feeling if I do I will die, my soul will shrivel and my body will follow it down that hole. That feeling helps me stay here and convince all my good seances that Cindy was raised in a way I was not. A very normal way. I tell myself this will be a good experience for the girls. I tell myself "isn't this a great opportunity for Cindy to really get to meet and bond with her nieces?" I tell myself one more week, thing nothing more of children, you are not Mumma, you are Butterfly the musician, you are a magical being and you are free. One more week will not hurt anything.

Anyway, I am working of sorts. The more money I earn, the easier it will be this winter to get food and clothes for them. At the club the owner has let me play for tips before the girls come on, as long as it is befitting of the beautiful queens. A lot of women artists. Before I leave the stage Mizty or another will come out and demand the patrons put money in my case. Oh, it works, you have a 6 foot something drag queen demanding you pay the little lady , they do.

During the day I am in my old stomping grounds. I have even gotten one or two gigs here and there in other clubs this week. First week I made over $500. That money will go far back on the farm. I can't believe I have come to the point where that is good money for a week. This week I should make more with the club gigs I have.

I put the girls out of my head for another week.

I have enjoyed the love and attention I get from the boys and girls of the club.

When I started playing down the street for a regular pub, I was shocked at the difference in the vibe.

I looked around between songs for possible shagging material.

Man in his 30's at the bar. Well groomed. Not poor, at least that is what his clothes say. Dark hair , fair skin, white smile, fairly good muscle structure. I do one quick check of the hand. Nope, no wedding ring. This could be a winner.

I try giving him the eye while singing. He seems to be into it.

Good.

Hey being around the boys has not made me forget how to act around the opposite sex. I felt all sorts of confidences come back. Between sets I walk up to the bar and sit next to him. He looks down and me and smiles.

"You sing great, where did you learn?" He inquires with a smooth voice.

"thanks, I learned from an old delta blues man."

He looks at me like I just feed him the biggest line.

"In Kentucky. I lived in Kentucky as a kid. There were some Blues bars down there. He was my Grandparent's neighbour." Something in there was akin to the truth. I smiled at Mr. Prospective Shag.

He was in middle management. He was happy in middle management looking to climb the corporate ladder. It is good to be happy in what you do. We should all feel like what we do makes a difference. Even if it doesn't, or we are just cogs in the machine. We have to feel like a useful cog.

Well he seemed well enough for a shag after the show.

"You going to stick around for the second set?" I asked.

"I wouldn't miss it." He smiled a confident smile back. "maybe we can get a bit somewhere after?"

"Sounds great, I could eat something." A girl should never admit she is starving. I have been trying to save my money and not spend it on stupid things like food. And my new diet has me losing about 10 pounds. Oh I get feed from Eric and Mitzy. But with my playing that ends up being about once a day.

I walk away, I can feel him checking out my ass as I walk away, I swing my hips some.

I settle myself in for the second set. And just in case he forgot what might be on my mind, I played songs that would not let him forget.

You know I got so into the idea of sex I hardly saw the women come into the bar and sit next to him.

She was professional looking, tall and thin. She seemed so put together. Too put together for here.

It has been so long that I forgot what the educate is when another is sniffing around your perspective shag for the evening. Was it a bar stool to the head, an slight dunking of her head in the toilet when I follow her in to the ladies, or was it the clumsy dropping the drink on her.

I pondered these things when I saw him reach into his pocket and put on a ring before she could see. He saw me notice. He smiled a sly smile at me. She noticed me looking at her husband. And have me a "back off ,bitch" look followed with a " you are not even in my league" look for good measure.

I looked at her and smiled. I waved and said And this one is dedicated to the lovely couple at the bar."

She stopped looking at me with disdain. I looked at her with pity. I was her once. Trying so hard to hold on to a man determined to stray. I wondered when she would stop blaming other women for his transgressions. But something in her eyes told me it was soon. Something in his laughter told me he would be blindsided by it.

But in the end I left the bar without diner and a shag or a snog.

I did leave with more money than I came in with. And that was good.

I walked down the street to the now familiar dive, I hear the laughter and joyful song coming from inside. I turn in. The door boy, smiles and winks and lets me in. Eric sits at the far end of the bar admiring his beautiful mate. I sit next to him and give him a kiss on the cheek.

" No luck in getting lucky tonight with the straight boys, huh?"

"What?! I can't give my old friend a kiss on the cheek and a snuggle?" I smiled at him to tell him he was right.

"Ah huh." Eric said with such attitude.

"Leave her alone, Eric, poor girl had her heart tossed around a bit tonight. Or at least her hopes dashed." The bartender said, a tallish pretty blond queen. He has always been sweet to me. "anyhow, we all know what that feels like. Baby, what do you want, on me."

"Surprise me, Beautiful." I said with a wink.

"You do know how to make a girl feel good, Butterfly. Something fruity for ya, coming right up. "

Well, they kept coming up, one fruity drink after another until me and the bartender were braking down men on the stage, my head on his lap, his arm around me. It is nice to be so safe, to have strong arms and no worries.

After a while all I could think about was how perfect his nose was.

Time to leave. Bid my shining white princess adieu and go home to lay my bones down.

Dude looks like a Lady

2009-12-08T22:43:00.010-05:00

The club closed at at midnight.

I lost $20 to a lovely lesbian biker couple. My pool hall days never prepared me for them. They invited me to the gallery show opening of their good friend. It is something about women and pain. Something I know well. They also invited me to join them for the night.

I agreed to the art and passed on the group sex. You have to love open relationships. I don't trust them. I don't ever wanted to be a third wheel. But it was nice to be asked. They were the first people interested in me sexually since Mercy was created, I am not even sure if then. It did make me feel a bit alive and that I am a sexual being again. I will always thank them for that.

After the bar closed and the girls were getting into their going home clothes, Mizty asked me to play some music. Something soulful and dark, something sad and strong. Oh so much to choose from, but what does beautiful queens like? Oh they love women larger than life, so large that no man can dear contain them.

"Now baby, you do know how to since the blues. Someday you will have to tell me why." Mitzy put his arm around me and kiss me gently on the check. "But not tonight, because, girlfriend we have got some celebrating to do , after part, it is my man's birthday!" He said standing and smiling making a large stage gesture with his arm like Vanna White to point out Eric.

"Oh, man! Happy birthday Eric!" I jumped up and hugged him. "I'm sorry , I have nothing for you."

"Nonsense, girl." Mitzy was right behind me and coming down to my ear. " He has been saying all day that the goddess of fairies brought you to him today. His birthday present was you. "

" Then off to the after party we go!" I put my guitar away in it's case and strapped it over my back. "Hey wasn't your birthday yesterday" I said as I looked at the clock as we were going out the door.

"Sweetie, the day doesn't end until I close my eyes and sometimes not even then, not where birthdays are concerned. "

Everyone laughed.

"29 is such a big year!" Mitzy proclaimed.

"Yes , indeed, it has been for the last 10 years. SHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! the world outside awaits, fairies of the night." And with Eric's words we entered out into the alley to party on into the night from gay bar to gay bar.

I don't remember coming back into the apartment. I don't remember getting undressed. I don't remember crashing on the sofa. I don't remember much more than leaving the to the alley from the last bar to be sick.

Oh, my head. Make the world stop spinning.

"Sorry, sweet Butterfly, I can't do that, you see the world would stop moving and who would I ever banish from the light?"

I opened my eyes to see Eric.

"Come to think if of it, I can think of quite a few people. We'll start with the republican party." He laughed at his own musing.

"Did I say that out loud?" I got out of my mouth. Oh my mouth, did I pack a tooth brush and mouthwash? Oh mouthwash has alcohol in it. The thought made me nauseous.

"Yup. And from the looks of you I better help you to the bathroom."

Before I knew it I was in the bathroom making sick all over the place.

There are some moments in your life that make you realize you are too old for drinking like Peter O'Toole and Richard Harris. They even came to that conclusion at some point. Though it does make for great stories you make up later.

After cleaning the bathroom and myself and washing my mouth out several times with mouthwash, I emerged from the bathroom a new woman.

Ah bright light, bright light. "Sun glasses, anyone have sunglasses?"

This went on for more than a day. I will not bore you with the details but I did like being pampered, I almost faked it for a few more hours. But Mizty caught on quick when I could keep an egg down. He started batting me about with some sort of piece of his long silk scarf that made me stop.

By nighttime I felt better.

By nighttime I was expected to go back to the club. We went early as Mizty preforms in the cabaret.

Mizty asks me to come along with him early. He needs to get ready for the show. He does so many divas. While he and the girls get ready, work out details, etc, he wants me to play.

The owner likes the music. But this is a gay bar. A la cage au faux show. Not meant for the blues. The audience wants outrageous queens to go with their girls night out, bachelorette parties, birthday celebrations or first dates. They do not want to be brought down.

He is fine for me playing for the girls, it makes them happy but lets me know once it is time for the show it is time for me to pack it up.

The people file in and I go back stage, I put my guitar in Mizty's dressing room and stand off sides.

The first night I loved watching her and the other girls. But now I love watching the audience react to them. I have gone up to shy women and told them to just get up there and give them the money. Tips like strippers in their fake bosom brazers.

When Mizty comes out he transforms into the divas of old.

Aretha was the first, the women went wild, so did the guys. But like Chrystal points out in every show, "All your straight girls, the boys all look pretty but they are just not into you."

And that makes this the safest place in the world for a woman like me. Don't get me wrong, I want a man. I want a man like the faux divas are singing about. But I am not in the position to get one. And these very real men, in dresses, shower me with love and kisses. the safest place in the world, like I said, to teach me how to except the love from other adults without the fear of of my heart getting broken in the process.

Eartha Kitt is a favorite of Mizty. She just channelled this great woman.

I Will Survive is many many women's, real and fake, anthem. All the women cheer and stand up. Dancing follows. Such a joyous song for us. It's a good thing the only boys in the club are boys.

Oh I cheered all night and danced on the sidelines and watched the people in the crowd. There is something magical about being here. No one cares if I have a butterfly on my face, if my house if clean enough nor do they care if I have a few extra pounds.

I feel beautiful. In every way. I see beauty in everyone here.

After the show I played a while, as requested by the girls, while they did a meet and great with with people who hung around. A young man , so bright of spirit waits for the slight queen who looks way too much like the real thing. He takes female hormones so his breasts grow in natural. No fake tatas on him. Damn I wish mine looked that good after 4 children.

The young man with the gleam in his eye, acts to cool as he hands her a $20. She excepts is with a smile and a peck to the cheek. He smiles and both know that is all he will get. But he is happy. He walks over to me and hands me a $20 too. I smile at him. And he smiles the sweetest smile. He is so nice. So real about his niceness.

He was the first boy I wished was straight. I stood up and kissed him on the cheek. And he reminded me how much of a beautiful gay man he was by his expression of "awwwww".

It was enviable that if I was here long enough I would start seeing the beautiful boys as more, but so quickly.

I decided that night, I must find a straight guy for a one night stand before I leave. You may ask, why just a one night thing? Well simply put, I can't stay here for ever and I can't bring someone back to the girls either. I put my mind and fantasies into that and let the pretty boys flight of fancy fly right back out of my head.

It's weird to be back

2009-12-08T21:39:00.000-05:00

I headed into Boston.

I thought about a lot of things. Mostly about Bobbie. About how she died. About how final it was. About how young she was. Only 15 years older than I. About genetics. About me only having 15 years left to live. Well less than that now. Mercy will only be 17. Will she graduate before I shuffle off this mortal coil.

I thought about how Bobbie gave me up so easily. I thought about how easy it was for her not to believe I existed any more like some childhood mistake. She didn't even ask for me when she was dying. She never once asked Cindy to find me and my children to see her one last time.

Only in Hollywood do we believe that people repent for their sins on their deathbeds. Maybe they don't consider their sins sins at all. I wondered if I could have given up my daughters so easily, and so fatality that even as I lay dying for months I do not call out for them.

Less than 15 years now. Let's get this party started.

I felt the years melt away as I approached my old stomping grounds. I had 200 dollars in my pocket and that was a lot more than I had back in the day.

I found a place that was safe to park the car for free. This is not an easy task, it took some time. I found the T and road it to the commons.

There I found my old place. The sun feeling great on my older skin. The freedom was lifting all those burdens from my shoulders. I hate to admit I let myself forget I had 4 little girls. I let myself just be me. I have felt so over burdened by single motherhood that I almost forgot I existed.

But here I am, sun sitting pretty in sky, light breeze, swans, people of all races, and the smell of the city. Here I am. I am here. I am so in this moment of myself it over powers me and I forget to breath. I realize this as everything started to blacken around me.

I open the case and take out my old friend. I leave the case open , for the donations of the patrons of the arts. I start strumming. Ah yes, I remember you here, old friend. I begin to play. I play a whole song before my voice wants to join in.

Ah but when I started, it was like I never left the park. People started throwing monetary homage to me. Well, me and the ghosts of soulful blues artists. I wished I lived closer to Boston where I could do this a few times a week. But it would cost me as much in gas as I would make. That would never do.

The faces are not the same as before. But people are people. It was great to seeing all the younger people grooving to the older music. Rap was one style I could never get into. I am taking them all along my musical ride. And I am losing my years as I do.

Hey wait. That face looks a little familiar. Older, but familiar just the same. But so many faces can look the same from people who live in the same place. On his arm is a very tall black man in 3 inch spiked heels. Oh he is also in a very pretty yellow dress. He smiles wide at me, I thought his lipstick would crack. Oh I like this one. And I have to find out where he gets that lipstick, I think it is my shade.

"Butterfly as I live and breath!" The familiar shorter-than-his-friend man said. The voice came echoing out of the past as well. I just looked at him try so hard to find him in my memory banks of my mind.

He laughs. "Oh sweetheart!, You don't remember me after leaving your apartment to me and the boys and a month of food back in the 80's! Girlfriend, no-one knew where you were until this Queen from England came over and brought one of your records with her!" He smiles. Oh that smile.

"AHHHHHH! Oh my god, ERRRRIIICCCCCCCCC!!!!!!!!!" I screeched as I threw my arms around him.

I felt large arms around us both. "Hey I wanted some sugar ,too." He said as I looked at him with a smile and I kissed his cheek. "Oh , you so sweet!"

The embrace lasted longer than any hug from a man I had had in the last 5 years.

"Eric who is your lovely friend? And you have my album?" I said still beaming.

"Oh darling, Lady Butterfly, this is Mizty." He smiles as he motioned to the lady. His actions over dramatically.

"Oh the songs we played in the club years. You know that mother of yours came looking for you 2 days after that horrible little prick and his mother. Everybody looking for the baby. All they found was a bunch of boys, sometimes at play." he smiled wide. " Poor southern minds got blown wide open. One day a group from DSS came. Oooo we had some fun with her. We told her we ate the baby. They actually took samples of our poop. Funny Bitch she was. You should have seen what we did to her afterwards." He laughed a devious laugh and a twinkle in his eye went along so well with his hand gesture that said don't ask. "Never mind, don't ask, I don't want you involved." he laughed, we all laughed.

I can just see all those uptight judgemental people coming to find me. This is how he reminds me. This is how the universe reminds me f who I am. That people did care. That I did belong.

"My mother came?"

"Yeah, she said that the boy's mother called her all upset. She said where ever you were, you should stay there." Things got serious in his voice. "When we realized you were in England, we didn't tell anyone. We were glad you got out. So how is your mother? "

"Dead."

"Oh, I'm..."

Did I say serious? nothing gets more serious than DEAD.

"I never saw her after I left. She never called. It was like she didn't exist, now she doesn't. No big deal." I said shrugging it off. I was trying to believe it myself.

"Now, girl, that is your mama, and what ever did or didn't happen that is your mama and it effects you." Strong arms are holding me again.

I smile and sit back down and start strumming again.

As the sun started going down. I started packing it all up. Eric and Mizty came strolling by.

"Hey where are you staying, sweety?" Eric inquired.

"Ummm... I hadn't thought about that. I have a car. I don't think I made enough for a hotel room. I'll be fine." I said with a wave of the hand as if it was nothing. I really hadn't thought that far along in the plan.

"Nonsense. You will be staying with us for a while. Until you get on your feet." Mizty said with a smile.

I realized what I must have looked like to them at that moment in the park alone and singing for change.

" Oh I have a house in the country. I only came to Boston to drop out for a while, get my head together and find myself again."

"Drop in , drop , out and get high. Or something like that?" Eric and Mizty said as if it was rehearsed.

"Too 60's of me?"

"Did I call it with the mother thing, or what?" Mizty said to Eric in a in-the-know manor.

"O.k., I will crash with you guys, um, ladies, um, lovely people. Where do you live anyway? " They both laughed at my stumbling over what to refer to them as.

"This lovely small place, you might remember it." Eric smiled slightly.

"My old place?"

"My old place now, honey."

"Did you change the lock?"

"Odd question, but no."

"Good," I pulled put the necklace underneath my shirt, I put my old key from my flat on it for luck. I can't believe I kept it all these years. "than this will still fit. If I knew that I could have been playing tricks on you for years. " I stuck my tongue out at him playfully.

"Meant to be!" Mizty proclaimed. "Now get your shit together and we have to get ready for the club."

First night back, and I am in my old home flat, with old friends and new ones and about to go clubbing. Yes, baby, I am back. This is what it is supposed to be like.

We got the car to the flat and got ready for the club. Eric looking dapper, Mizty looking lovely and a bit over done and me , well I found something low cut in Mizty's closet.

Ge got to the small club, It didn't take me too long to realize by the cute boy at the door, the women with butch tattoos and the queens on the stage that I was not going to find myself a man of my dreams here. Oh I did realize I was going to make a lot of friend here.

Before I could turn around Mizty was on stage and the crowd was cheering wildly.

That was the moment I realized as people smiled at me and I was cheering too: I am in the land of misfit toys. It was so nice to be home again, a tear of joy trickled down from my eye.

diamonds on the souls of her shoes,

2009-12-04T15:15:00.008-05:00

Cindy, my sister. Still in her 20's. She is well dressed, As in "those shoes cost more than my whole family's wardrobe". But that is not hard to do nowadays.

She knows obviously, that I am her sister.

This fact hit me first.

"So, you know I am your sister and not your Aunt? When did you find out? And why no sisterly love before this?"

O.k. so at this point I was thinking how I could have used a sister since Ian left. I could have used a babysitter every now and then. I could have used a shoulder to cry on. My kids could have used a stable person around while I was falling apart.

Yeah, how long did she know?

"I tell you our mother is dead, and that is what you have to ask me?" Cindy vex perplexed. Her brows and furled and she looked at the ground to me to the sky to the rolling hills. "Don't you care?"

"I care more that you know I am your sister. I care more that you weren't around. I care to know how long." I said quickly.

She seems upset. Real upset. I had all but forgotten she and her brother existed, I almost forgot Bobbi existed. Occasionally I wonder what happened to them, whether or not they were still alive. But the thoughts didn't last long and they were far and years between.

"She was a mother to you, I get that. But you need to understand, she was not to me, nor was she that sister she pretended to be either. I didn't loose a mother, but knowing I had a sister who didn't care to contact me until now, that is a slight more important to me." I looked her straight in her harsh looking eyes. "I a, sorry for your loss, but I lost her a very long time ago. I thing it was about 8 months and 29 days before my birth. I hope you can understand my life has been very different from yours, from what little I can remember of you." I sighed and she softened.

Cindy sighed heavily too.

"I realized when you called Granny, Grandmother. I heard them talk hen they thought I was asleep. I heard Mother on the phone when you had the baby." she looked towards the car. "Your first baby." she corrected herself. "I picked up the other receiver. I heard about your brother. But after that, after that... I was young. Very young at the time. I kept it in the back of my head. When Granny died I hoped to talk to you at the wake or funeral, but you never came. No-one talked about you. When I asked where you were, I was told nobody knew." She said looking me right in the eye.

Well this seemed like a emotional sister conversation that I had seen other sisters have. I smiled. She looked confused. I hugged her. She seemed confused.

"Just like real sisters. " I said as I let her go.

"What?!" She recoiled back a little

" We see things different just like real sisters. " I smiled. " we argue the point like real sisters." I smiled again. "I could use a sister."

She smiled a little, not sure what to think. Here begins the awkward silence.

In the awkward silence my daughters came out of the car. The came and stood around me. They looked at her.

Unlike my for-mothers, I don't believe children are imbeciles or deaf. I know they are very good listeners.

"This is your aunt Cindy. "

They all looked at her wide eyed. They have gone through a lot of aunts and uncles that are no longer here. They are removed from family so easily. It is the story of almost every divorced kid. At this moment being torn away from the commune made me realized I knew this feeling too. From then on you precede with caution.

"Hello, girls." Cindy said as she bent down to little Mercy and smiled.

That was the beginning of my crazy month.

Some times you have to take time out in your life to have a crazy time.

Now I know what you might be thinking, what was all that bathtub gin about, seemed pretty crazy. Naw, that was just coping. And there is nothing like your mother dying to put just coping over the edge to crazy for a while.

If I had someone to watch the girls, I probably would have gone crazy after Ian left. I couldn't afford to. I had 4 babies. One of them literally a baby.

Now I have Cindy. I took some time to digest everything. Away from the girls.

Cindy caught me up. Cancer. Brest. Genetic kind. 6 months ago. No-one told me. No one called me. No one tracked me down until 6 months later.

Cindy finished up her schooling in Boston. Sandra. Sandra was watching over her, keeping tabs on her. She finally told her she should look me up. She should hunt me down since we lived in the same state, than slipped her my address. Took her another 6 weeks to do it.

I should be upset with Sandra and Carol for not telling me. They told Cindy it was her responsibility to tell me. To find me. To make some links back. They were right of course.

After a week at my house, after making calls to Sandra and Carol, I figured it was safe enough to leave the girls with Cindy. She was taking time off between school and life. She just broke up with her fiance she had at school. In the end they wanted different things. Nothing earth-shattering bad. She was looking for something that would take her mind off it, so many reasons why we end up where we end up, the right thing done for other reasons, still turns out to be the right thing.

She doesn't really know anything about me beyond the girl she saw so many years ago and the woman, single mother, 4 girls, slightly a bit of a train wreck she sees before her. Everything in between didn't happen, didn't exists, she never knew butterfly. It is funny , we only see people as what we see them at during that moment of time. It is hard to see them as anything else. I think that is why it is so hard to change. When people put you in a role, they like you to keep playing it. Even yourself. You get caught up in it. Role of a lifetime. This is why moving is so popular among women in my situation. You get to get a new role of a lifetime.

Best place to go crazy? Not in the town you live in. Hell no. Find a city. One far enough away you are not about to meet up with the townsfolk.

I kissed my babies goodbye. I pack my old steel guitar and a small bag with a few changes of clothes. Boston your my town. I remember how free I felt there. How bound I felt there. But mostly how young I was there. Crazy is the gift of youth and old age. You are allowed to be off center without too much judgement. In between we yearn for pieces of its sweet freedom.

Well that was my plan when I drove to Boston that last summer's day, to go crazy for a while, try to recapture my youth. Hell I promised myself I wouldn't even look at a mirror fir the time I was there.

I wish I was in heaven sitting down

2009-11-17T21:20:00.012-05:00

The girls all washed and in their Sunday best. For the first time for Sunday church.

I had past the church in the center of town many times and thought little of it other than a good example of the stone architecture of the time. It always struck me as strange it had star of David in the middle of the left tower. The first time I passed it I thought it was amazing we had a Temple in town. I was assured it was the First Congregational Church when I asked where the knishes were at the Church bazaars and picnic the first year we were in town.

For the record they didn't know what a knish was. Nor any other Jewish food I asked for. At that point they thought Ian married a Jew. I just went along with it and tried to invite the pastor over for the Sador. He bowed out gracefully.

Ian and the girls were the only ones who got the joke. Though there were less girls back then.

Some years later I did tell his wife it was just a joke since no-one seemed to think an star of David was unusual for a church. She was shocked to hear it was a Jewish symbol. It must have been there so long no-one made the connection. Funny how it takes a stranger to notice something you see all the time.

People , passers by have always pointed out to me things I never noticed about myself in my youth. I yearn for those days again every now and again. It seems everyone I see now I have seen for years and there are no strangers around sent from some celestial place for wisdom to filter through.

Back to church. We, of course, got there 5 minutes late. Last time I did this , I was the kid. There is no better way to make an entrance in the local small town church than to arrive 5 minutes late with a bunch of load questioning girls, the kind of questions you don't want resonating through a silent Church. Questions like " what is church and why are we going?" "why do we have to be quite?" And my all time favorite from my oldest "shouldn't you still be asleep at this hour, mother?"

And me, tired and weary, and yes, usually at this time I am still sleep this time of day on a Sunday, instead of being embarrassed in front of most of the town and all of the town's gossips.

The preacher had stopped what he was saying as I was trying to slip into church with my noisy bunch. He waved us in. I took the road of pride and walked us to the middle of the church instead of the back of the church where I was hoping no-one would notice us. No chance of that now.

Fidget was the word in my family for the next hour. An hour of constant correction. The one thing going through my mind "why do women who have children put themselves through this?" why did my grand mother with all those kids do this? I do remember she didn't care after a while, when I ran away. When I left to catch frogs and learn from Moses. She didn't realize after a while I was going to church with Moses' family.

Oh no, the thought of genetics came to mind. These girls are all mine. How can they do anything but fidget. I braced myself to see if any would bolt out the door.

About that time the preacher preached about a sows ear and a silk purse all while looking at us. How flashbacks of my grandmother's church was coming to me. Filtering through my mind in between the hushed words to Solas and Freedom. The words of hatred and condemning those Jesus would have loved.

I really don't think Precious really meant this for me and the girls.

Then something strange happened.

Oh nothing like Mother Mary coming down to make my girls perfect angels, but something that threw me just the same.

Preacher talked about hidden talents. About other loves. About people not being what they seemed. That people had lives before they arrived. that people are different than what you believe them to be.

Then he came down to me and asked me to come up,

"take for example, Emma, here. " he said to the congregation " How many of you know she was a musician? or that she even record an album in Europe? Oh I am sure you were aware of her husband's musical career..."

I was so proud of my self for not interrupting him to point out that Ian was my EX husband, as in former and no longer.

"But Mrs McEwing here, is a musician in her own right, and they meet when he was he back up musician."

He stopped to let that all soak in.

"So I have asked Mrs McEwing up here to see if she would grace us with a song or two this morning as our Mrs. Benoit is unable to play for us due to an ailment. It must have been God himself who directed Mrs McEwing here today with her daughters to fill in." he smiled and brought me a guitar.

How can you say no when GOD HIMSELF brought you to church to fill in. Maybe in more ways than he knew.

I tuned the unfamiliar instrument. I wish I had my old steel one for this. But I make due. I tuned it to my satisfaction and sat down on the chair the preacher fetched for me. I sang two songs. Old ones. I avoided looking at the town's people before me trying to get my old mojo going. Just like the old days with Moses.

I must say, it felt great to sing in front of people again.

I noticed the town folk in front of me. They looked shocked. I don't think they were used of the blues or gospel. I wasn't sure what to make of them. Strange people, don't know what good music is.

The preacher smiled at me as he retrieved the guitar and the chair and put them aside.

"If I am not mistaken, Mrs McEwing, that was examples of the blues you learned growing up in the south."

I smiled back and said "Yes, I would often play in church in my youth." I really wanted to say "Will you stop calling me by Ian's name AND IT IS MS SMITH, the name change came with the divorce decree." But I didn't, I just smiled and looked meek as I walked back to my pew. My girls were smiling at me.

Damn, Ian must have told him a lot about me.

"Mama, you sing good" Mercy said in her little voice. That was all the justification I needed for the day that I still had it.

As we left the church the preacher asked us to come back, "Don't make yourselves strangers to God's house. " he said.

The jury was still out on that in my head. The ride back home was nearly uneventful. Mercy did ask who my husband was. It made me laugh. Freedom quickly said we don't talk about that. We really don't talk about that in our house. I realized she really had no clue who Ian was, how could she, she was only a few weeks old. And the next youngest, Chas, she barely could remember some vague man who was around and than not. His loss. I kept saying that in my head all the way home. It pushed out any feeling of the blues I had for them not having a father.

When we got home a woman was there. Blonde, thin, bright blue eyes with freckles. Much younger than me.

"Can I help you? Are you lost? " I said as I told the girls to stay in the car and I ventured toward her.

"Are you Dani?"

"That was a lifetime ago." I replied. Been decades since someone called me that.

"Where is your birth mark?"

"Under my makeup? Do you need to see it for some reason?" Now I was getting annoyed. She doesn't seem like some long lost fan. I could only think of the millions of ways this young woman has come to mess with my life.

"You don't remember me?" she said hopeful.

Now I was starting to worry for my children. "Sorry? Should I? " I said as nonthreatening as I could. " I have meet a lot of people over the years. Maybe a hint?" Though something about her reminded me of someone. I couldn't put my finger on it, but what ever it was made me very uneasy and worry for my children.

" It was a long time ago. I suspect you wouldn't. I was only a little girl." She looked to the ground "No easy way to say this."

"Well, easier if you just spit it out and let the chips fall sometimes, I find." I replied in a friendly voice, hoping she wasn't carrying a weapon.

"Mom's dead, sis."

I'll never let go of your hand

2009-11-14T17:49:00.008-05:00

During the months after the awaking the gavel coming down brought me to the sleep of of a whole different kind, a waking dream of me sleepwalking. My mind not wanting to really accept He didn't love me. He never loved me. I was that easily replaced when too old. All those promises were lies. The children I created with him were nothing. Not made of love. Not sacred.

It would have been easier if I had some friends. I seemed to have isolated myself here on this hill, in the farmhouse so old and wooden, so many years ago. I brought my children to a place to be raised of frogs and chickens.

I forgot all but those fun things small farm towns had. The remembering everything else was the hardest part. In the beginning it didn't matter really that I wasn't accepted for the talented, creative, mysterious, loving, kind, curious, magical person I was. All they saw was the mark of my freakishness on my face and my rock star attitude. None of the rest. I tried. They just couldn't see beyond their own preconceptions of me. But unlike when I was a child, I had a man, we had a plan. We had a family. And they could go jump in the big ole lake that housed a town at the bottom of it.

That attitude didn't help when you are without a man. Now I am the freaky bitch who couldn't keep her man. Some of the older women in the shops gave me that look of pity as I try to wrestle my girls out of their stores without too much incidents. It is considered a success if it is under a half hour and nothing gets broken, with one girl going this way, Freedom holding another , another goes another way and Freedom bitching about the child she is holding.

I don't like going to the stores. Not that I have the money for it.

Money. That child support that was ordered came regular for the first few months, then, then... well we all know how this story goes. You get some here and there. when the mood strikes him or he feels guilty. Having children with no friends or family to watch them means mama don't work.

So small town in the boonies and not one outed gay man about for me to lay my pitiful head on his shoulders equals one sorrowful pitiful Emma.

Yup, I dropped the Butterfly crap for the locals, trying to fit in, you know.

Nowadays. I find myself making bathtub wine, in my spear time and finding the occasional extra change for Malibu to drown my sorrows in.

I yearn, in my time of my eyes closing tight, for arm around me, I can almost remember the feel of Ian's around me as we danced or as I made dinner when he came up from behid, not to mention the times in the bed, I have such a hard time thinking of it as making love any more.

In those times, I awake to believe it was all a bad dream and I forget he is not here. His side of the bed as cold as the day he left it. It comes rushing back as I begin my day.

Midsummer's night.

Oh how I miss England.

All the stories of magical Fae.

Where ecsentric is just a quirk of nature to make life more interesting.

Oh England. Where my only family lay.

I think.

Last time I talked to Kim he said he wished me luck and love. He said he wish he could over here and solve all my problems but... oh I hate that word, it is like it negates everything before. Not that I blame him. He said we both had families. He said we both had responsibilities and his keeps him in England. He now looks for talent like his step dad did. He has 3 children of his own. Though he did end with: " you are always welcome to come back home, the wife can help you with those beautiful girls of yours. And if I ever see Ian again, I will make good on my promise made on your wedding day. Luv ya sis, got to go."

I can't blame him and sometimes I think about selling off the farm and moving back home. But, we are both adults now and he shouldn't be having to take care of me all my life. He was my white knight once. He has a woman and children who needs his protection now.

We called every now and again. When I couldn't afford the phone bill so that put the end to that when the phone was shut off.

Midsummer's' night.

Warm and cloudless. Stars that went on for ever. The fireflies tries rival the stars for my attention. They hovered and swirled in their lover's dance.

Me and my wool blanket full of sunset colours. We bought it out west when we went to the Navajo reservation. I wanted to see if Suzie was still there. She wasn't. It is funny how you go to a far away place to find your past and realize that it vanished and all the players moved on. We stopped at a trading post found the blanket for our bed. The man behind the counter recognized my butterfly. Joseph. He sold trinkets to the tourist. He got grown up with a family. Funny he was still a boy in my head and I still a little girl in his.

The blanket I should have burnt it. I could not. More than Ian it reminded me of Joseph. I can't get rid of one of the memories with out the other going up in smoke too.

I have my old steel guitar and a bottle of Malibu.

The were girls asleep, I locked the doors and went to watch the moonless night under the old apple tree. The moss under it is soft and cushy.

I play old blues songs of lost love and heart ache. Most of them by men. I fell asleep when I could stand no more about how when are so wrong.

"Wake up , child!" I heard and it felt like someone kicked my butt.

"Girl! I said wake up your lazy good for nothing butt up!"

Damn all this yelling I rise from my sleepy drunkenness.

Damn I must be drunk. He sounds so familiar that deep old voice.

"Now don't you be treating that child like that, Moses, she's got the blues something bad." A soft voice said.

I got to my elbows and tried to focus on what was going on.

"Moses?" I said. Slowly figures seem to come to focus, illuminated by the fireflies and glowing against the night.

"Who do you think it is? Denzel Washington?"

"How do you know about Denzel?"

"Oh child, I am dead I am not uninformed! And especially not uninformed about your foolishness!" Moses said in that very scolding tone I heard only once or twice.

"Moses!"

"Oh Precious, you see this foolishness this child has gotten up to! Don't be Mosesing me."

"She has been going though a lot. But darling, it is enough now. Those babies need you! You are their mother and that Freedom of yours, she's having to grow up too quick. You are hurting that baby of yours."

I looked down. The bottle was empty. The words stung. "I just don't know what else to do."

"You be a MAMA! How hard is that! I taught you better than this, child. You are being as bad as that mother of yours and those grandparents who couldn't care less for you. " Moses word made me cry.

"Baby, tears wont help those girls, you SHOW them that you LOVE them. You pick yourself up, brush off your derriere and get back to raising those girls right! It wont hurt to take them to church, too. You got any good Baptist preachers up here? "

I started laughing at Precious words. "I think I am five steps beyond church. No Baptists here only judgemental white women wearing pink sweaters."

"Oh, child, We had those down south, too. White or coloured folk, those pink sweater ladies are more judgemental than any good Christan should be. BUT that never kept good folk like you and me from going to church. Your daughters ever been to church?" Precious said.

"Not all of them." I looked back down to the moss under my hands.

"Than you better get them there. It is Sunday morning after all."

"But you are just a midsummer's' nights dream." I shook my head.

"We may be a lot of things, girl, but it is time for you to get your ass up and get those babies to church. Here comes first light." Moses points to the east and indeed I see the sun rising.

"Not much time to make breakfast and get those girls dressed." Precious said in such a loving voice.

"But I... is this all you have come to me for? To scold me? I am so lost."

"You are lost. So I gave you a kick in the butt to show you the direction home. Don't make me do it again!"

I sat up straight now covering my butt with the solid ground.

"We love you baby, that is why we came. You do what you are supposed to, trust in the good Lord to take care of the rest." Those loving words Precious said as they faded into the sunrise were the most kind words I heard in a long time.

I got up grabbed my guitar and blanket and bottle went into the house.

I deposited the bottle in the trash and started making pancakes.

I have made pancakes every Sunday since.

The smell of pancakes woke the girls. I set the table and explained they all needed to get dressed after they ate in their finest clothes.

"Why?" Freedom asked more bratty than curiously.

"Because we are going to church."

"What's church?" Solace and Chaz asked

"You'll find out. And if we like it maybe we will go back some more."

They started scampering off to their rooms to change when I heard "I love you Mummy" and I realized I have heard those words all this time. It just dawned on me that every day I was showered with love I just wasn't willing to except it because it wasn't the kind I wanted.

Feel Me

2009-11-05T22:41:00.004-05:00

The track to justice is full of pitfalls, traps, snipers and highwaymen. It is the best way I can describe filing for divorce and child support.

I remember hearing me men friends over the year talk about the "leaching women using the system with their free lawyers meant to milk men dry". Lord knows I tried but could not find anyone like that to help. I stood in long lines with people who gave me papers to fill out and when asked a question told me to hire a lawyer or that I didn't want it bad enough. Once the legalize was filled out than they wanted money for this and that fee. There were no free leaching lawyers. I can see why after all this women are so hateful by the time they see the men in court.

Oh, than they make you wait. And wait. And wait.

You want it over yesterday. You want it all gone so you can start over. You think that once the judge bangs the gavel it all magically disappears. All the hate and love and resentment and good and bad memories and the extra weight while we are at it.

So I spend about a year going from crying to hope to eating too much ice cream to not eating at all to eating ice cream again. I don't remember much more from that year. I wish I did. It was like my mind was turned off and my survival primal brain took over.

I looked through my closet and found the most respectable dress I could find. One that said I am a responsible mother. I am not a unstable emotional bundle of nerves who can't keep a man. Funny enough it is the same outfit I go to funerals in.

I put my war paint on. First a heavy base. I still have some of my old stage make up when I wanted to cover this mark of wings that don't work. My eyeshadow and lipstick so unlike me, so unbold, so unsluty, just like the pink sweater ladies brigade that dislike me so much. It is what people want to believe is an honorable woman. I look like them. Well a rounder version of them.

As I look in the mirror at a reflection I don't recognize I tell myself I will lose this extra pre divorce depression weight off to the out and about divorcee slimmer me like I used to be back before I knew Ian.

Walking into the courtroom is like walking into a tomb.

The walls and stairs and column. All stone cold.

It seems so silence and dark.

Oh wait that is me, I must remember to keep breathing.

I wish I took something to kill this pain.

But I didn't because I didn't want the judge to think me an addict. But As I breath and sound comes back to my ears so loud I do feel like I imagine detoxing must be to a heroin addict. The sweats start. This make up and funeral suit are so hot with so many people.

I make it to a seat. As sight and sound come back more firmly I look over and see that all familiar face. I smile instectively. He doesn't see me. His is the only face that I recognize. It has been a year.

My mind goes to those places I would not allow it to go before. All those years. All that love. all those babies made. Seeing him hold his first child. Gleaming with pride and love.

The love. I get so caught up in that feeling. Like seeing an old friend again after a long time. Some silly spat you don't remember quite what it was about. Like time to move on with the feeling you had once, a love so strong you can forgive some little trifle thing and get back to being a family.

As I stood I could see him in my waking dream beg the judge time to talk to me, to save is marriage, his family. He realized he made a mistake. He realized that some loved were greater.

Then she walked in with his son.

The son I could never give him.

Not gaining an ounce for the trouble.

He smiles at her and kisses her as she sits with the boy in her arms.

His lawyer whispers in his ear.

I tried not to hate him. I tried not to let pain back in. I tries to hold on to the love I just felt.

I don't remember much of the time there after that. The Lawyer, "blah blah blah" and " so you see he has a new family to support, she has her own means, she has the house, give her no more" and more "blah blah blah" and "loves all his children, this woman kept him from them" and more "blah blah blah".

If I had a friend to stand with me, maybe I would have remembered more. If I had a friend who asked me later at a pub I would have told them just that.

In the end I only ended up with $1000 a month to live off of with the 4 children. Not all school age. Meaning I had no way to go to work. Not that there was much work where I lived. Small towns don't tend to hire the town freak.

I walked out of the cold cold court room after the clap of thunder that was the gavels strike. I was trying so hard to hold on to the images of the past. I tries so hard not to cry. I made it all the way back to the car.

With all those nasty things his lawyer said about me, I wonder if he remembered any of the past at all. He had moved on.

I came to realize all my best days were behind me. I had no clue how I got to the pub. I have no clue how I got home that night. I remember paying the babysitter who wanted double for being gone so long. The next thing I remember was waking up with my old guitair wrapped in a blanket on the deck sitting in the Adirondack chair.

Though I could have swore I saw Moses put the blanket around me.

Little Pink houses

2009-10-26T23:20:00.008-04:00

I should take a step back, maybe a few.

How many children do I have now?

Freedom, I had her at 16. Than I meet Ian.

I married Ian at 19. Ah what a beautiful wedding. An old Scottish church made of bricks, men in kilts as far as the eye can see. Ah, good times. SO young so blissfully blinded by love. Everyone should try it once. And once you tried it you want another taste.

The next year I gave birth to Sòlas, a girl with Ian. It is a Scottish man's name, in fact it was his granddad's name. He promised him before he passed, while I was pregnant, that he would name the child after him. On his death bed this promise was made. There was no getting out of it when she was a girl. In a way it went with Freedom's name. It meant Solace. She was born on our first anniversary. I never ever got a night out on my anniversary. Solas came birthday came first. As any mother would do.

I still went on the road with two babies. Or should I say: Emma loved watching them. Most of my gigs were no more than two day trips. Never too much of a burden. She got her fill of little kid time then gave them back. Meanwhile Ian and I partied with the boys, played with the boys, made friendships of people who later became much much bigger than I ever would.

2 years later I had Charisma. And she was full of it. Laughing eyes and gleaming smile. She always got away with murder.

On my 23rd birthday Emma and Ian's mum , Rose, sat me down and had a talking to me about making babies than spending so much time away from them. Tough love. They decided not to watch the girls any more. It was either hire an au pair or start roping in my music carrier for a while. Honestly we tried to go on the road hiring baby sitters for the few hours I was on stage. That was until she lost one of them and than Sòlas ended up on stage with us. Children have away of letting you know it is time to throw in the towel.

This meant Mama and Papa could not go on stage together. We had our times on stage alone while the other stayed home. It was about the time Chaz ,Charisma, was 2 that Ian felt America would be a better place for us. Land of opportunities and we could get an au pair he said. We could tour again. Make our way.

It turned out better for him then me. The idea that it was the woman's duty to give up her career was more a fundamental institution in America than it was were there was a Queen and a female PM. I stayed at home with the girls and he played all over the country. I told myself I was happy. I loved my children. What woman wouldn't love to spend all her time with her children. What kind of woman chooses her happiness over her children? Oh lord I tired.

And Ian? He wanted a son so bad he could taste it.

Three years later I had Mercy. That was one month before I told him to leave. I am sure all the hormones helped. They had not calmed down. I found myself in the dead silence of the old farm house. No help. No money. And than the baby cried. I have no clue have we have survived since. I am sure if I stopped and thought real hard I could. But when ever I stop I have a panic attack. It is like a shark, if you stop swimming you die. But damn you know I want to float for a while.

Two months later his girlfriend bore him a son.

Where did that leave me?

Defiantly it closed that door. More like it got slammed shut in my face and bolted many times over from the other side. Funny how one son outweighed 3 daughters and one stepdaughter you raised as your own.

When I received the birth announcement out it was my 27Th birthday.

I never opened another thing he sent to the house for me or the girls. I have a draw in my dresser I put them all in. They slowed after the first 6 months. I put them behind my vibrator. The girls NEVER get past big Bob. It is strategically placed. My sister in law sent it from home after she heard Ian left.

All my girls had a small butterfly birthmark somewhere on their bodies. A little piece of me they will carry on. I told them all this was me always watching over them. At first they all thought it was neat. Their mother always there to care. Later not so much fun thinking of your mother always watching.

Now at 32, I find I have lost the chutzpah of my youth. I looked for it everywhere, even under the couch where the killer dust bunnies dwell.

I'm 32, Freedom is 16. The same age I was when I had her. I am glad to say she has no intention of getting pregnant and has a pocket in her purse for condoms. 'Just in case'. I told her I would rather her be responsible if she was to have sex than bring me home a baby because she couldn't talk to me about it. I thought I was being hip, hell I partied with the boys in England. It was the place to be for music in the 80's. Androgyny was the fashion and anything goes was the code. Not to mention the stories of the friends I lost to AIDS. No Glove No Love. I drilled it into her head.

No mater how hip your mom is she is still your mom handing you condoms and talking about penis and respect. Freedom ran from the room. She screamed first . Said she hated her name, so I didn't have to worry about her ever getting a boyfriend since I cursed her with a freak's name.

I live in a small town here in New England.

All the women are expected to act the same. Stepford women. Was Stepford in New England? That would explain a lot. Than again, I do believe that it happens everywhere. I was just not used to it.

All who don't will be punished. By the pink sweater ladies. The Soccer Mom Brigade. They demand you follow their lead. You will be assimilated. Borg women. Well you get the point.

These women must of been those girls in high school. You know the ones, they set the fashion if you didn't follow you were ridiculed. I don't think the archetypes from school ever go away. I wonder if we ever really change that much from that time. I am still very much the freak.

It all started when I was trying so hard to fit in with those other moms. I even put on pancake makeup and a pink sweater. In kindergarten and first grade all the kids go to each other's birthday parties. It is obligation. The parents size each other up.

One day this very preppy couple with smiles and perfect hair tell me "We you know the children have to go to soccer no matter how much we hate it." And the smiled and nodded at each other and they looked at me in to agree.

I smiled and nodded.

"What team is Charisma on?" The quarried.

" Have sign up started?" I smiled hoping to end the subject.

" They were last week. But the coach is over there, he can get her on the team now. They called the coach over, and the next thing I knew I was 50$ lighter.

I sat on a football field and cheered. They saw right through my disguise. They called me silly when I called it football. That's why they are the soccer moms, they have no clue how rough the stadium seats are in football. There are no prim and proper women looking down on you. Though I would love to have the money to take them all to a football match in England and watch them try. I wonder how they would get the blood stains out of their lovely pink cardigans?

I am evil sometimes.

These women never left New England, some not even the state.

I decided to pity them and ban "soccer" for my girls.

It was better this way. Even if I was out $50 and had a sweater I would never wear again.

The down side was that when our party came no-one came. Later a few people came, but those were the kids labeled freaks as well.

I always considered we had more fun. Freedom felt herself outcast for who she had as a mother. The thought has had me weep from time to time. Those times usually around the birthday parties. She wants so much to be part of what everyone else is. Past the initial shock of having no friends at the parties the other girls Flowed in colours of their own personalities. Content in who they were. Freedom desired the bonds of social conformity. I have to say I could not understand this. This must be her father's DNA. At least musicians crave the freedom of their music.

I wish I could teach her this.

The years of wine and no roses.... a butterfly story.

2009-10-24T11:40:00.006-04:00

The years seem to fly.

Here I am. I am. The shortest sentence in the world. It is a statement and a questions.

The flowing hills hue of faint blues in the morning fog seems ethereal in it's beauty. I love my back deck in the early morning hours. I am wrapped in a pendleton blanket of fiery autumn colours. It is chilly this morning as summer has crept away in the middle of the night like a lover good at that one thing but nothing else that lingers on your mind. Well maybe two or three. But you get the point. New England Summers go by all too quickly.

This big old adirondack chair used to be bigger when we moved her eight years ago.

This is my time. The few hours I have before the children wake and start demanding my time. It seems I have no time left for me. I felt this way back when I was touring, but looking back, that was all me time.

My mug is filled with a good stiff coffee, Irish coffee. I place it on the table. All the while thinking it is almost time to put this furniture in the barn for storage.

I pick up my old steel guitar. You know this hour or so by myself makes me think too much of what I don't have and what has been left in the past. Here in the morning mist I feel so lonely. My children cure that, when they wake and the world comes alive with the force of a hurricane. But this time. The time I can't help but think I should be sharing the morning coffee and mist with. Knowing looks and caring eyes from the opposite chair. But there's no-one there.

There hasn't been anyone there for 5 years. In my mind I can see him sitting there. Sometimes enjoying the peace with me. Sometimes playing a song to me. Sometimes playing a song with me.

Now I play alone. When the mood strikes.

I play the all too familiar notes. Old friends them now.

You know sometimes you get to a point in life when you feel all the best times are yesterday. When you can not come up with one reason to look forward to tomorrow. You know that yesterday will be the same toil as tomorrow as will be the next day. In other words: WELCOME TO SINGLE MOTHERHOOD.

As I sit here and play the song I think about what brought me here.

I told him to leave. I wore it as a badge of honour. I TOLD HIM TO LEAVE. What I didn't say is that I was saying it to him as he was leaving out the door anyway. He was walking out on me and the children and walking to that groupie with sky high boobs. Ones that had not nursed four children. She had a vacancy in the head as well.

Yes, I allow myself bitterness. Especially when his words about her being so much more agreeable than me and that I really let myself go over the years. He said he was still was young and deserved better.

After 4 children I had gained 80 pounds. Some how it crept up on me one every child after Freedom. With Freedom food was scarce. That makes it easy to keep your girlish figure. After Freedom food was plentiful. I had means. I had a career. A modest one in Europe. I never did much in my home country of America. Where U2 and Frankie Goes to Hollywood came over in the 80's my sound smacked too much of the old blues and what happened in the 60's. I remember Robert Smith and I talking over coffee with his wife. Oh how they loved those old songs. Funny how you can not be appreciated until you are walking in a foreign land.

The royalties did allowed me to buy this old farm house on 30 acres here. Not much else. I actually have a a small farm. Didn't I run away from that life so many years ago?

Funny sometimes you run away from things and than you become a mother. You remember all the healthy things that the boring sticks and country life can offer. I wanted my children to know what it was to sneak up to a frog and chase a chicken. There are some simple pleasures of childhood that are missed in city life. Here, though in a semi country life the city and ocean are not that far away so I could keep my balance.

England was home for so long. Ian, he wanted to make a go of making it here. So we moved here. He became a studio and back up player to other front men when I was not going over well.

That made me.. well a house wife. That was all fine and well... Oh who the hell do I think I am kidding? I am not housewife material. I am adventure girl and take my family along for the ride kind of woman.

In my new chained life, Ian looked at me differently. I was told "Hon, why don't ya make some food for us, you wouldn't understand this music stuff." He actually said that more than once. The others would laugh. They didn't know me. They didn't know that was my guitar on the wall, not his. They were Americans. Living the life I was more than aware that woman were not worth anything, especially when the word "Mum" got called out.

I was not some groupie. I was not some hanger on. I was his wife and now I had all his buddies in our marriage as well. Some would say even in front of me they had a tart they wanted him to meet. They talked of these woman as meat. They traded them around like woman borrow shirts from each other.

After all that I still knew he was different when he sat in that that other chair. I would have my Ian back for a brief moment in the days he was home. But those days were less and less. And the last few weeks he did sit there he was not there. It was not him. He had already gone.

"MUM!"

"Out here, little one."

My youngest child comes out and cuddles in my blanket. She looks up at me with her bright blue eyes and freckly face " When are you going start making pancakes? It's Sunday." She smiles.

" I guess right now."

" Can I have chocolate in mine?"

"I think I have some chocolate chips around here, but you have to have Apple pancakes, too."

"Oh, Mum!"

I am about to walk back into the house when I hear a car come up my gravel driveway. I look over the deck as the red sports car comes to a halt.

"Bloody HELL" I say as Ian climbs out of the car.

"Who is he?"

"No-one, Mercy, go inside. Get warm. Get all the things I need for the pancakes out. " I push her through the sliding door and shut it behind her.

"Hey Butterfly! No-one! I'm the damn father! You let Charisma know that!" Ian seemed upset at my dismissal of Mercy.

" That is MS SMITH to you! And any one who can not tell which child is which does NOT get to call himself the "DAMN FATHER". You haven't seen them in 5 years. You have no right..."

Before I could finished "Same old Butterfly, still a bitch." Came out of his mouth.

I turned and walked back into the house.

That which is in the past....

2009-10-16T21:43:00.007-04:00

She remembers everything.

It can play like a movie in her mind or on a blank white wall if she is creatively bored enough. This happened a lot in school. Her teachers could be less than inspiring. Now it is Supervisors and trainers and corporate types at work brings out the creative boredom of her childhood. Isn't always seem the most uninspiring people tell other what to do and how to do it. Intelligence is her friend and half being in the present and half in the past.

This ability to relive the past with the recall of the DVD you have watched over and over again would have been great if her life was filled with more good times.

She wonders how others deal with the walking past, for quite honestly it was starting to bring her down.

So she goes to a preacher to find the answer. He told her to pray for an answer. She does not believe he really understood the query. She prayed when she was a child about it and the cosmic voicemail told her god was away on business.

She went to one of those New Age gurus. They sold her a whole bunch of stones some represented male and female parts. When that didn't work, she was told she was not ready for the answer but if she wanted to get there she could buy his book. When the book enlightened her not, he said she had to take his seminars in the woods were Indians used to do their sacred ceremonies. That was before he bought the land and kicked them out. His new age retreat center was far more profitable . And as she was told that no-one reaches enlightenment unless you paid for it otherwise it doesn't mean anything. She ran out of her entertainment fund and did not feel every entertained.

She ended up in this therapist office full of fake plants and magazines of Pop Psychology. She suspects you can find new neurosis in the waiting room, job security. He sat her down and explained how other people deal with living with the past and present merged together: they don't. He explained they simply don't see the past that clearly. It fades over time. He said she was special and offered the suggestion just to watch the good ones.

After a month she got tired of all the repeats.

She just let's the past come as it will now. Strange little turn of a phrase from a conversation as she walks by strangers waiting for the bus or the odd look her co workers would give would set the past replay again. Old lovers waifing back into the present like the the man on the train who passed wind and blamed the blind girl's dog. She wonders if they ever think about her like this. She shakes her head each time that thought crosses and remembers what shrink said. They don't.

Can you walk or even wake in multiple worlds at once. She was proof time was only how you perceive it. She hates the people who say things like : keep the past in the past or any of the many other says that said the same sentiment. She , more than most, saw that the past effected who we are today. Or in other words that she prefers : they who forgets their past are doomed to repeat it.

She has had the good judgement not to fall into that trap. Unless she wanted to, that usually didn't last long. As if if we know how it will turn out that we would try it from another way. When she saw the same pattern emerge she would walk away. No need to have remakes of the same story.

One of her past lovers was a past walker, too. Their fights were glorious. Each one recalling their side and transgressions against them so perfectly. Ah but time and transgressions are unfortunately all about prospective. This union, no great sex could save.

Yet another lover remember almost nothing clearly. Yet was determined that she lied about the events constinly. He drove her to the brink of madness. The Part about how he knew his memory was faulty and hers was not is what really drove her crazy during those times.

She finally met a person who thought about the future only. With this one she would stay with. It was good. The processes of bringing him to her was nothing but looking forward. He was her child. The child balanced her out. She taught him to remember the past. He taught her to look towards the future. Together they lived happy .

Quit Bugging Me

2009-09-28T06:52:00.006-04:00

I always considered myself not the most emulate cleaner.

I have seen worse.

I have also seen more women who have dedicated their life to the fight of filth.

I have nothing against them. My mother was one of them. I also seen too many hours waisted on trying to have the spotless house at all times. Time we could have gone out to play, we could have gone to the local harvest fair, or just down to the beach, but the house was not clean enough for her.

She would have been disgusted if she lived long enough to see me now.

It was actually her death at what I considered a relatively young age, 57, that woke me up that maybe I should spend what little time I have left enjoying life. Since cleaning did not give me pleasure in anyway but I don't like a smelly sink nor bugs, I do it begrudgingly but only at a minimum.

Oh, and there is that habit she hated: I throw almost nothing away.

Collections of papers from important days in my life. I am glad to say those are a bit out of control. Mental note, let's change it to taking out a clipping with the date, the most interesting story in each paper to represent these days of my life. I can do that on a rainy day where I have nothing else to do. Honestly I have said this to myself for years. I should explain in southern California there are very little rainy days. I spend most of them cleaning house, which leaves little times for my important day clippings scrap book. Always on a back burner, as they say. I will get to it , maybe when I move to Washington. I understand it rains quite a bit up there.

Well my collections are more than that, there are the frogs. I miss the rain and the frogs I used to chase as a child in the south. There was a lot more rain there too, but I am not moving back. But it is funny when you collect things like frogs, or pigs, or angels or even Disney memorabilia, every one you know gives you one for your birthday or Christmas or when ever. You get over run with them. It is no longer your collection. They wanted to be special. So you keep them. You would hate for them to come over and know you got ride of their frog and therefor getting ride of your connection to them. I have kept them all. Even from the people who are no longer in my life and the only good memory of them is their frog. I keep them.

I had a book case full of them. But that got over run quickly. When my daughter opened her wings and flew away I made her room the frog room. She came back once, she was upset that everything was not how she left it. I told her it was unrealistic to believe that time stops for those you leave behind. She said she understood that part but she thought it should have taken more than a day to do it. I do remember it rained the day she left.

That was my last big rainy day projects.

Where was I going with this? Yes. I wanted to explain I am not a messy person who keeps plates of food all over the house or cat messes on my floor. The box never smells for long. The first whiff and I change the box. My little furry children want for nothing. I have two. One white, Sol, and one black, Luna. I have a blog about them with pictures and videos. I photos shop the clutter out of the background. I find people can be so judgemental on line. They remind me of my mother. If my mother had the Internet she would have been one of the women, when not cleaning on line. When not on line cooking and cleaning. None of them leaving there house for anything but church and food shopping. All other shopping are done on line. That reminds me I have to track that package from Amazon, I think they delivered it to the people across the street, again. They keep telling me to walk over and ask for it back. I keep trying to explain across the street is a meth house. Some people are just that safe to knock on the door and asking for entry. I wonder if they have meth houses in India? Maybe next time I should say they are gang lords or terrorist. No, than I would sound crazy, maybe I do already.

Back on track. So the other day I came home from my daily stroll around the neighbourhood and say hundreds of flies. House flies, not those pesky fruit flies. I had a melt down moment. I shut the door. I hurried to the hardware store and bought 2 packages of the fly strips. 6 should be enough. I went back in, opened the fly-strip , put one over the sink. But that wasn't doing much. SO I opened one up and just swung it around. I was a fly hunter. So proud I caught 47. Yes I counted. I threw that strip away and repeated my actions. Hunting them with the flypaper roll. One more filled and tossed I opened another and left it on the light. Darkness had come and I tired. I had got the majority and they were all centralized to the kitchen. I am safe for now. I left the light on to attract them to the fly paper. I will deal with this tomorrow I told myself as I went to bed.

The next morning I woke and decide to get to the bottom of this. I made sure the sinks were spotless. I did find a maggot or two. I little freak moment but boiling hot water would kill anything squirming there. This must be the source. Some food they could digest I forget to clean for a few days. There are but 3 flies buzzing around. It is quite normal for any house. By night time and after my evening stroll there was hundreds again.

I shut the door and repeated my trek to the hardware store for fly strips. I repeated my massacre of flied from the night before. I bought a flyswatter this time too... fly paper roll in one hand swatter in the other. I was a sight in my house coat, I caught the sight reflected in the window. I laughed to myself. What a crazy lady my neighbours must think I am, now would be the best time to get my Amazon package back from the meth lab across the street. They wouldn't deny a crazy old lady with a flyswatter.

I got most of them, replaced the old ones that were full above the sink and on the light. I boiled water and put it down both drains.

Now this was driving me nuts. Where could they be coming from. As I thought about this looking at my ceiling in bed ans noticed a maggot on my ceiling! Smush. I looked around and saw 3 more on my walls. Now I am grossed out. This has gone beyond an annoyance. Have I gotten more filthy than I allowed myself to believe. I smell for a dead mouse my furry children might have left. You can usually smell those. No, no smells out of the ordinary.

Maybe food got some where at night. I will have to do a more intense cleaning. tomorrow.

Next morning I woke. By the time of my stroll I had cleaned my kitchen spotless. every piece of food from the fridge that was even going to turn soon got thrown out. There. Now there is no food that could attract them. This should do it. After my walk I was horrified to see a clean kitchen with hundreds of flies. Got more filmstrips from the hardware store, I am now telling them I live on a farm and have horses. I get 5 packages this time.

I repeat the killing spree and hope this was just fies laying in wait from something I already got rid of and this was it. As I go to sleep that night I see more maggots. Squish squish squish. I will clean my dinning room tomorrow.

As they say on the shampoo bottle, rinse and repeat. I cleaned the dinning room spotless, with the same result after my evening stroll. Tomorrow the living room.

Squish squish squish.

Waking I decided that is it! I tackle my papers of important days. I get every dust bunny. It is spotless, even polished. My mother would be proud!

Evening stroll time. I open the door with caution and there they are gain. AHHHHHHH!

I repeat... I have enough strips for a few more days of this before I have to go back and talk about my horse Sol and Luna. Squish squish squish.

I sleep.

I wake up and tackle the bathroom and frog room. Now all but one room is spotless. The house looks almost as clean as when I moved in.

Evening stroll time. I close my eyes as I walk in. I sigh as I open them. Yup, they are back. I have now killed about a thousand of them. This is not possible. There is only one room left. The room I have been squishing the maggots in, it must be there. Something Luna or Sol killed. Squish squish squish. I will deal with this tomorrow.

I woke up and got right to it. I must say my room is the messiest. it is the only place no-one but me sees. It has not seen a broom in a long time. I clean and clean. I was the walls. I finally go on my nightly walk. And come back to the same. I don't get this. I will have to call a bug person. At least my house is clean enough to have them in.

Squish squish squish. The only thing I haven't done is move my bed. I did sweep the broom under, as the bed is very heavy for me. It used to not be as heavy for me, but I am older now. Tomorrow I will take the bed apart,that must be were what ever the cats killed is.

The next morning after breakfast I get to work striping the bed and inspecting and vacuuming the mattress as I move everything. Just in case, as disgusting as the thought is something crawled up and died in my mattresses. Nothing in the mattresses and box spring. It must be in the far corner under the bed.

As I move the box spring off the frame and place it along side the mattress I am taken aback. I gasp. I bump into someone as I step back.

"How else was I going to get you to clean this mess?"

I turn around to see my mother.

"I would have no daughter of mine be found in a messy house!"

I look back under the bed and see myself with maggots coming our of my nose and mouth. "How did I die?"

" It doesn't matter, you are dead and your house is clean and your daughter need not be embarrassed. That is all that matters." My mother said. "Do you want to stick around for the funeral or leave now?"

The suicide note ( fiction )

2009-08-31T20:03:00.005-04:00

To Whom It may Concern,

That sounds so impersonal.

But that is how this life experience has been , so impersonal.

Everything everyone seemed to do to me seemed so impersonal.

"Don't take it personal, but..." Oh so many ways to finish that sentence. So many ways it was finished for me.

What was that American dream I heard about. It passed me by. I saw the American nightmare they never talk about.

I was supposed to get married, have children, grow old with my loving husband... through thick and thin with a man by my side.

I was supposed to keep an immaculate house.

I was supposed to cook like Julia Child or some-one's grandmother.

I was supposed to be the perfect mother, never an ill word or a tear. Always calm always cheerful always sacrificing no thought for myself

I was a piss poor house keeper. I tried to keep up, but as soon as one side of the house was done, to perfection, the other side was trashed again.

He always said he was seemed to invite people over. That was followed by braking dishes, or a favorite item or just a slap to the face.

My cooking was adequate. Healthy. That was my concern. He fussed so much that the children followed suit. Ever meal not edible according to my family.

Motherhood, I failed there too. Never calm enough, never nice enough, never, never... never enough of anything for anyone. The schools called me irrational, because I got upset. My oldest son he found it an easy excuse not to do his work. "well you know how my mother is." he would say and they would give him a passing grad on a paper half ass-ed done. The others found it easy to blame me, too.

Roy, he runs the streets since he was 15. The cops talk about his crazy mother and give him a pass most the time. His father used the same line the first time the cops brought him home. As soon as the door closed the belt came out, first for Roy second for me for embarrassing him.

That was the night I made him leave. Well it was something a kin to Roy and I pushing him out the door.

I thought that would be the end of it. That the children would calm down. That the world would see me for me and not though his eyes, not through his lies.

I was wrong.

The boys they got wilder. They turned their wildness to me and the girls. I found myself up against walls screaming about respect. The girls cried as the boys said they were now the men in the house and would have order.

What was worse? I sot help from the police who laughed at me, told me it was my fault for turning out the only man who would deal with me. The court system, the social workers all interviewed him and they said I was luck enough to keep my kids. They told me I could press charges and put my sons in jail for years.

A man to grow old with. The thick and thin. Why women put up with it? The teenage years. As they grow into it, they all turn on me. Nothing I do is good enough. His words haunt me, though my children. But I love them. I can not get rid of them as easy.

Oh lord, I don not not how to go on. I work all day, clean and cook all night, with no kind word towards me during any minute of the day. I have failed you. I could not live up to the role of Mother. As I could not live up to the roll of Wife. I do not know how to go on one more day.

I reached out to people. They seemed to be good people. A man who said he cared. The children took to him. He told me he had morals. Good Christian morals. He was nice, I didn't mind don't all those things to please him. I saw him as someone I could be with. Than I saw him with another woman, saying the same things he said to me, those things they seemed so sincere, so personal. He was just a player playing his game.

Oh Lord, I raged against him , like a Hurricane rages against the gulf coast.

All those people, they spun away from me as quickly as they spun to me. I want Just one person to be what they say they are. But they are not.

In all my life I wanted to love. I settled fr "he liked me." And that was good enough. We got along well enough. Until we didn't.

I fell hard for a man knew all the right words to say and the right places to touch but none of the staying power of a real man.

I fear my children. I gave birth to them, nursed them, love them, held each one close and yet they treat me as I was a stranger.

I fear growing old alone.

I fear love. Love I will never find, love I will find but does not want me.

I am past my time to get a man. It is not fair, Lord, how men my age are in their prime and women are disgusting old bags. Why make things so unbalanced as they are.

I have no more need of a hard life. Of toiling everyday and never having any light at the end of the tunnel. Hope has left years ago. And with out her sweet grace I find nothing more to live for.

But I wanted to let who ever cared, know why. I suspect none should care, but I hate unanswered questions and would not like to do that to anyone else.

______________________

The next morning the alarm went off. I shut it off stumbled out of bed. Found the note I left. Realized I chickened out again. Crumpled it up and threw it away with the other ones.

Maybe today someone will care.

I head out the door to take the train to work.

The world looks gray again. I think it might snow.

You know when it has gone too far....

2009-07-11T00:06:00.002-04:00

When CNN interviews a chimp!

I saw this first on the Daily Show. Unfortunately they didn't have it as a clip on Hulu.

I just hope his children do not see the trash tabloids I saw at the grocery store tonight.

Ugly p30

2009-06-30T23:56:00.001-04:00

School was hard but an adventure all at the same time. By the end of the semester I was feeling pretty good about myself and my situation. I made the odd bit of money when the weather was warm enough. With Kim's contributions we always had what we needed. I never had to worry about that. The flat was warmer then it ever was.

Kim was permanent fixture in the house. We were a real family. Butterfly, Freedom and Uncle Kim. We would take the baby on strolls in the park and all around Boston. Sometimes Kim would rent a car and we would go to the beach or Quebec or Rodger Williams Zoo. If I could now only meet a man as good as Kim with out him being a blood relative I would be all set.

Thanksgiving can and went.

I got to know Kim's mom a little. She wanted to talk to me after the results of the DNA test came back. Kim had sent her photos of Freedom. She would say this or that reminded her of Luke. She would tell me stories of my father, things I would have never known if Kim never sought me out.

It seems Luke had commitment issues. Emma, this was Kim's Mum's name as well as Luke's mother's name, And Luke's Grandmother's name, said Luke started with the free love business when she wanted to get married after she found out she was pregnant. Luke just didn't want to be tied down. The emerging hippie scene that came about when Kim was just little. It offered him a lot of sex without strings.

An open marriage was the only thing he would offer her. This was not something Emma thought she could handle. She was a one man woman and wanted the reverse to be true too of her husband. This seemed very reasonable to me. I think part of Luke did yearn for that. The way he took care of me, the way at the end, I remember he wanted me far away from that life style.

Emma never called me Emma, she said there were too many to keep them straight, she called me Butterfly after I told her how a real Navajo Indian old woman gave me the name. She said it fit me well.

We would always end every telephone conversation with "You really need to come and visit here."

I think I just about convinced her to come over for Christmas or New Years, or did she convinced me to go there. I was never sure. Kim went and helped me get passports, just in case.

Two weeks before Christmas, is when it came, and early Christmas present from Miles. A letter from a lawyer representing Miles' mother. He was demanding I give up custody of Freedom to her and Miles, they said they wanted a paternity test, and after that they would fight for custody. It seems that Miles' mother had gotten married and looks real stable now. She even joined that hateful preacher's church. 'A good church going lady in a stable home life with a husband who are ready to raise the baby as their own'. Not to mentioned 'forced at gun point from your grandfather to sign away her rights'.

Damn, God, they go to the same church now. I wonder if my grandparents even know what she is doing? There was no gun, just Granny and a piece of paper.

"He said he would!" I screamed and cried as I threw the letter down.

"Who, what, where?" Kim inquired quickly.

Kim picked up the letter and read it.

"I didn't beat the git hard enough!" he was pretty upset as well. " He wont do it, he can't do it! They would never take a child away from her mother! They don't do that. Don't worry." He came over and wrapped his arms me. He stayed until I told him he could stop.

I wasn't as sure as he was. Before I could finish my thought a knock came on the door.

I opened it.

There was a woman in a business suit with a briefcase standing there.

"Hi, can I help you? If you are selling Jesus I have to tell you I don't need any." The only ones who dressed like that in this neighborhood are Jehovah Witnesses.

"Are you Dani Smith?" She said with a bit of disdain.

"Yeah and who the hell are you?!" I gave her the same disdain back at her.

"I am Ms Kelly from DSS. I have come to investigate a complaint about mistreatment of a baby called Freedom. It says here", and she pulls a paper from her brief case "That a black male was blowing marijuana smoke in the baby's face and the mother was filling the baby's bottle with alcoholic."

"That was Miles and his friends almost 6 months ago, I kicked him out of my house and life when I found what they had done."

"I have heard on parent accuse the other of what they do before. If this is true why didn't you contact the police or our department?" Again with the disdain.

"He told me you would take her aways from me if I said anything. He said he would have her taken away from me if I said anything or kicked him out." I was frantic. It was in my voice. Kim came up behind me. Put an arm around me.

"Ms Kelly, why don't you come in and see that Freedom is perfectly safe and happy. Now that the mother took the right steps in getting rid of the threat to her child as soon as she knew the situation existed." Kim opened the door and sounded so charming. I was so happy he was there.

"Is that a Jamaican accent?" She looked over her glasses and wrote in her book.

" No, Mame, it is a British accent. But people can confuse the two." Kim said with a smile. " I am the only black man here. And I am not Jamaican. I am 'Dani's' brother."

She again looked over her glasses and me then Kim and wrote in her book. She did not look like she believed him.

"It's true you know." I said "We both had the same father." She still looked like I was high on cocaine. "He's half white. I have the DNA paper that says we are, if you want to see it."

"It doesn't matter his relation to you, Miss Smith just if he is harming the child. Where does he sleep, by the way?"

"I sleep on the coach. My sis and the baby sleep in the bedroom, back here." Kim lead the way to the bedroom. He is smiling his big old sunshine smile. She is not charmed by it.

"So you and the baby both share the same room, Miss Smith?" She said writing more stuff down.

"Yea, she IS a baby after all, and nothing IMPROPER happens in there anyway." I am getting defensive. Kim keeps giving me the sign to keep my cool.

"She needs her own room. It is in the regulations. You are on public assistance, are you not?"

"Yeah."

"Than they can provide a voucher for section 8 and you can get a bigger apartment with 2 bedrooms in the apt complexes they have. I hear they are nice apartments." She smiled.

"They are in the worst part of the city, I can't raise her there!" Why would she suggest even a thing, "I bet you don't live there."

'That is irrelevant, where I live." more writing "The apartments are up to regulations, unlike this place. You have to sacrifice when you are a mother." She spoke sharp at me. I was ready to kick her.

"She is very aware that she needs to sacrifice. We both do, as her only family here we raise Freedom together. That way she has the benefit of a father figure in her uncle. Thank you for telling us about the regulations we will look for a new flat right away. One with 3 bedrooms, so we can all have one. With me here, now, we can afford one in a good neighbourhood, with a good school system." Kim was taking over and leaving me behind as he showed her the crib the clean clothes, the toys, all very neat and organized.

She starts sniffing away like a bloodhound. "I don't smell any alcohol or marijuana in this room. But that doesn't mean anything, I find. The booze can be in another room, and you Miss Smith are under age to drink."

"I don't drink!"

Kim took over again. "Why don't you come to the kitchen and check for yourself?"

"Yes I did need to check the kitchen. Do you have at least a weeks worth of food?"

Kim laughed. "Sometimes I think we have a months worth, in case we get snowed in. I heard you people got quite a big blizzard a few years ago."

She was satisfied with the kitchen and the food situation, nor did she find any booze. She didn't find any on the living room either.

"Everything looks fine here, but we will do these surprise inspections from time to time as long as the baby resides with you and we find it warranted to have concerns." She said as she was leaving.

"If you turn up out of the blue and you find nothing wrong, what concerns would you have?"

"You are only 16 years old, going to college or not. Girls your age have a hard enough time taking care of themselves never mind anyone else. "

"Who decided is I am good enough?"

"I do and only I. And I can tell you right now, with an adult couple , the grandparents I believe trying to take custody, I am not trusting they will not win. You may want to think about giving the child up to the grandparents so you could get on with your life, you are so young yet and I understand you panhandle for money on the common."

"I sing and play guitar and people pay me for my musical talent, if that's what you mean, I am a musician." I was getting hot again.

"Yes, musicians don't always make the best parents, up all night, drug addicts, shady friends. You know what I mean, don't you Dani?"

Before I could answer Kim thanked her for coming and closed the door.

"She's going to take my baby way! She's going to make me sound unfit and the judge will give my child away!" I cried in Kim's arms.

The rest of the night I cried off and on. Every time I looked at Freedom I cried.

Next morning Kim made breakfast. He set me a place. I came in and sat down. On my plate was an envelope.

"It was supposed to be a surprise, but I thought it best to give this to you early. "

I look at the envelope.

"Well, open it or just get it out of the way so I can serve your eggs."

I move the envelope. He puts the eggs in my dish and I open the envelope, easing him a bit that I would not.

There were two tickets to England. I was shocked, speechless.

"Mum bought them, she wanted us over for Christmas holiday. I figured you could use some cheering up."

I put the tickets down. "It wont fix the problem, just a temporary reprieve from the fight."

"Sometimes we need at temporary reprieve to get our heads together. We can leave tomorrow morning."

"So soon."

"No time like the present. Anyhow I talked to Mum last night after you fell asleep. She agreed, it is decided, it is no longer a holiday, but we are moving back, the whole lot of us, Me, you, Freedom. It's time for a new start."

"But I just can't move there."

"And why the hell not? You have a whole bunch of stuff tying you here? Your family? Job? University? Because we have University over there, and when I said Mum's husband was well off, I meant big house in the country well off, Mum's already started making up the rooms for you and Freedom. Like the lady said it is regulation." He smiled when he said the last bit.

I threw my spoon at him. He dodge it quickly.

"But what of they don't let me?"

"Who? The tosser and his mum? By the time he realizes you are gone, he will not know where to find you. If they find you, do you realize how much money they would need to do an international custody battle with a well to do family? HUH? Baby, step Daddy has money and barristers on retainer. Now start packing light after breakfast. Just the things you could not bare to never see again. We will give the keys to the boys so they can finish our food but tell them nothing more than we are visiting your Granny for a month."

That was the best plan I heard yet. I trusted Kim, he was wiser and calmer than me. I packed. I gave Eric the keys with an open invite to use the place and eat the food while we were in Kentucky.

Everything was really tense as I made my plans, choose my things and looked around one last time. The next thing I know we are touching down in Heathrow airport.

I walked through the airport with my red converse high tops on, my skinny black pants and my trusty guitar. Kim held the most precious thing I brought with me, Freedom. A weight lifted off my shoulders immediately. It felt like freedom, it felt like death, I think it was something in between I guess. To quote Leonard Cohen. But it did.

We got a hotel room for a week to bang around London before going to Kim's Mum's place. We saw all the sights. We hung out with the punk kids at Trafalgar Square. We saw the most boring changing of the guard. We headed down to oxford street. Where I bought a Union Jack sleeveless tee shirt and a black leather jacket to complete my new look.

I sang some songs in the chilly days, I made a little bit, I wanted to bring gifts with when we went to the country house. They seemed to really like the old American songs I knew. Like this one:

Kim helped book me a a few gigs before we left, they really liked the old blues songs I knew. The dates were set up for the next year.

We finally went to the country house a week before Christmas.

Let me tell you about this country house. It had 10 bedrooms. And that wasn't counting the service quarters.

Emma was warm. Her husband, Aaron was hardly around as he worked in London and came back only for the weekends and holidays he didn't work. Kim's younger brother and sister were about the ages of mine. I was introduced to them as Kim's sister from America. They just took to me as if I was a long lost big sister. Everyone took to Freedom with a lot of love. They wanted to know if she could call them aunt and uncle, too. And Emma, oh how Emma took to Freedom.

Emma would watch Freedom so Kim and I could do our gigs in London. I felt guilty , I felt I was taking advantage. Emma said "Nonsense, child, this poppet brings life into this house. You are doing me a service to let me enjoy her like a grandmother. Kim, when you going to find a girl to marry."

It wasn't long before we were teaching Freedom to call Emma 'Gran'.

I never did get around to go to university. Kim and I played London every weekend for a while. We played blues, our own songs, Ska, reggae, what ever hit our fancy , really, and the people really seemed to enjoy it. We cut an album, small really. Small as it was it gave us exposure around Europe and we found ourselves away from home a lot more, in a lot of places I thought I would never see. Did I mention Aaron was a record producer, worked for a new mogul, called his company Virgin. He was the rock and roller of the yuppies.

We picked up musicians to play with us along the way. There is this Scott. He is always saying "Ya know Butterfly, ye are brilliant!"

It was a gig in Paris, 2 months after he kept saying I was brilliant before he asked me out to see Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde's graves. It was fitting our first date be in a cemetery.

"How did I get so lucky, brother?" Ian said to Kim

"Let me straiten your tie, Mate." Kim said as he straightened Ian's tie and handed him his sporran.

"Seriously, what great thing did I ever do to deserve this? I have been asking myself that all week." Ian nervously filtered around trying to attach all the accents you attach to the traditional dress Scott outfit.

"At least you know the right thing to say to your soon to be brother-in-law, otherwise I would have to knock you to the curb before you could marry my sister."

Ian looked at Kim like a deer caught in headlights.

"Mate, you will have to be tougher than that to be her husband. Just don't mess it up. I will always be around."

Ian smiled, "Right you are," He looks int he mirror and around at the very old Scottish church. "I am not good enough for her." He started for the door.

Kim stood in his way "Don't be a git and get down that isle, and just don;t brake her heart. She loves you."

Ian smiled nodded and headed with Kim, in full Scottish garb, down the isle were they stood waiting for the bride.

I am about to step on stage, the nerves always hit. Then I hear my husband say:

"Welcome Ladies and Gentleman. May I introduce to you, Butterfly!"

Ugly p 29

2009-06-28T18:02:00.003-04:00

Weeks passed, Miles didn't return. Strange how you half want them to. Just to prove to yourself they loved you somewhere deep in side. I became sometimes melancholy about the whole thing. I had a child with him. It hurt more to think he never cared about either of us. So many thoughts can go through your head. When Kim was an idea. The idea of one of my kind, a new man, a new hope of moving forward made it so easy to kick him away to make room for something better, something new. But it turned out I was jumping from wild horse to thin air. Now I feel like I am hitting the ground. Hard. Very hard.

I tried not to let it show too much around Kim.

"Ya know, Emma, when ever we brake up with someone good or bad for us it hurts just the same. If they are bad for us, we have the deadly 'whit ifs' and we ask why we weren't good enough to make them right. If they are good we wonder why we weren't better to keep them. It's bollocks either way, luv." Kim said over the breakfast table, which for us, breakfast is at noon. But eggs and chips it is.

"I don't know why you are bring this up, I am over that loser." I lied as I cleared the table.

"That tosser's Freedoms biological father. That leaves a connection, tis harder to break. "

He was right.

"Another tosser will come down the bus route any time here. The world is full of them. Me Gran always told my baby sister 'there is always enough time to wait for the right man, but it is always too soon to settle for the wrong one'."

"Your Gran is wise."

Days passed and I kept playing the words of Kim's grand over in my head over and over. Even when singing too many Janis Joplin songs about men leaving.

Kim made sure I was registers for collage. He made sure I went. He said he would watch Freedom while I took classes.

Eric is getting scarcer nowadays. The boys are staring to get sick, whispers of plague that hits only gay men. The boys who come from New York with the Broadway plays to Boston, some of them have spots on their bodies, get very skinny, and now it starts to spread here. Eric spends time taking care of the boys believing that is Indian magic will spare him.

I saw him in the park on the way back to the flat that afternoon.

"Whoa Eric, have you gained 50 pounds?"

"Blunt as always, sweetheart. That is why I love you."

He looks so drawn. He is not his chipper self.

"what's wrong? Where's me bouncy Tiger?"

"I went to three funerals this week. The boys are dying. They get really skinny, Auschwitz skinny ,before dying. I will have a buffer when my time comes. I have an excuse to eat all the ice cream I want." He is holding back so many tears, I think he is all cried out. It breaks my heart. I start crying. " Ronald Rayguns is office
and his press secretary is joking about it. The gay disease. The preachers use it to preach hate. Don't they know?"

"Don't they know what?" I go to hug him.

He puts up his hands to stop me. "What effects us, effects them. We are humans. We are all humans. Though I wonder about these hate stirrers." He shakes his head." They are not human any more."

I go to hug him again. Again he refuses.

"I can't chance it, not with you and little Freedom. Not with you. Don't they know how many married men come to the truck stops. How many closeted men out there with families. And a woman married to a gay man, you don;t think she wont go get something on the side too? HA! it is only a matter of time before they are all dying too. Baby stay celibate, don't touch anyone, don't use public restrooms, don't get blood, it is tainted, no-one is safe. No-ONE."

My heart is breaking for him. My heart is breaking and he is not there , nothing much behind the eyes, like a soldier in war who has seen too many dead bodies. I don't know what to do.

The walk home was long. I stopped to use the public restroom, freaked out about everything Eric said, what if could be spread this way. I hoovered over the seat. I see the writing on the wall "If AIDS is god's curse on gay men, then lesbians must be the chosen people."

I open the door to to the old Victorian, grab the mail, head upstairs to my flat.

"Hey I'm home!"

I toss the mail on the coffee table. Kim comes out holding Freedom, freshly washed. "Look who's home from school? Tis right, ya mum."

I take Freedom from hm and start giving her butterfly kisses all over her face she giggles little baby girl giggles. "Mail's on the table. what's for lunch?"

Kim didn't answer back, usually I get some sort of answer I have no clue what it is. A curry this a curry that a vandeloo. But silence.

I dress Freedom and put her in her crib with her favorite toys. she makes cooing baby happy noises.

I walk into the living room.

Kim is holding an envelope. "This is it."

"So what are you going to do? This is what you wanted."

"If I don't open it , everything can stay the same. If I open it everything might change."

"No matter what it says, Kimble, we will be friends. That wont change."

"Oh child, I have heard that too many times to ever believe that again."

"I never said it to you." Now I am a little hurt.

"Everything changes, everything. But blood is stronger than water, enit what they say? Nothing can brake that bond."

"It is what you came and sought me out for. Open the damn thing."

He just stares at it for a few more moments.

I grab it from him. "In for a penny, in for a pound. I fear no piece of paper."

I open it quick and look at the many numbers and words that make little scene to me.

Kim smiles like the sun.

"I don't see what si so funny, no-one but a DNA scientist could read this gobbly gook."

HE starts laughing at the. Actually laughed at me.

"I don't know what is so funny! Your MUM should get her money back."

"She don't need to, sis." He gets up and hugs me, "You were looking at the wrong side of the paper. You made me read it first anyway. I see you will definitely be a hand full. "

He put me down. I look on the other side. The results are 99.75 that we shared the same father.

Luke was my father. Kim is my brother.And god sometimes answers prayers.

ugly p28

2009-06-28T11:21:00.004-04:00

SKA.

Kim introduced me fully into Ska.

What I just took as a fun beat from some reggae I found was it's own style. Over the last 6 weeks we got to know east other much better. We became like brother and sister. We learned from each other. I taught him the downs of the blues and he brought me up with ska. Between the two of us Freedom heard all sorts of music and had many smiles and laughter to find her peace with.

We often played together in the park, making more than I did alone even after splitting it. He always gave me extra, he said there were two of us and one of him, so I should get more to provide for my baby.

The days seem to stop when first I found him and I was looking for him again. But the days have flown by since he found me. I have come to know him enough that I do trust him to sleep over my flat, much less expensive then the hotel. It is nice to have about the flat again. Listen to me, even borrowing from his talk, he has become so much a part of me. He refuses to let me carry the laundry to the matt. He makes food for us at times. He doesn't invite his friends over. He says "When you have children, you have to take care who to bring into your child's life, you never know who will take advantage. Need to surround children with the best of who you know, so they will strive to be like those you love and admire."

Told him I learned my lesson well. But I never really elaborated. I wanted to forget.

He would sleep on the couch, it was close to the door. I slept well with him there, it was like I had a giant lion guarding the door of the keep, for the two princess inside were precious things who deserved to be guarded by such a powerful beast. He made me feel that way. As if I were special.

Half the time I wished the DNA test comes back as if we were family, half that we were not so I could have him as my man. But always he treated me and Freedom with respect. It was like living with one of the boys.

One night, after coming home from the club we were winding down for the night. Kim went to make some food for us all. A knock came on the door. I went and opened it Miles. Standing there. Oh Crap.

"Hey babe, going to invite me in?"

"NO."

He pushed in anyway.

"You know what ever you got is crap. My mother has a lawyer now. Say goodbye to your brat enjoy the time left. Unless you want to rethink your position on me, I can live here with you while I go to school, that way you can still see the kid. But she will still legally be mine.I guess at that point you will be leaching off me in my place. Once I have custody I can get assistance, just like your lazy ass. And you can start paying me child support, you can start now. "

At this point he had me against the wall One arm between me and the kitchen the other trying to rifle through my clothes looking for money.

"Oi! MATE, what you think ya doing?!" Kim yelled as he ran up to Miles and me.

"Who the hell are you?!" Miles acted so indignant. "You take up with a nigger right after I leave? So THIS is why you wanted me out of the house." He scream back at me like a lover who just found out there was another.

"Out!" in a booming voice Kim pulled him away from me. Kim was slightly taller than Miles but as far as bulk went, the lion won out, Miles looked like a boy compared to Kim.

"Hey, I know you are new to this bitch, but this is my family you are muscling in on. Be a man and walk away." Miles said in that tone that if you didn't agree with him you were not being an adult. But now he is doing it to someone who is older then both of us.

"Bitch, Nigger, man do you know how to talk people." Kim laughed. And pushed Miles away, which made him fall the few steps to the landing and land against the wall. the same wall he landed on when I kicked him months earlier. 'Look mate, you made me laughter, I will give you to the count of three."

"To leave, I get empty threats. It wont work here."

"No empty threat mate, it is just the head start I am giving you before I beat your raciest ass." Kim was still smiling and laughing. "ONE"

"You don't know the games she plays, man" Miles is still not moving.

"TWO"

"BUT I am the FATHER!"

"THREE"

Before he got the whole word out Miles started down the stairs.

Kim ran after. He caught him at the end of the stairs "I don't know what you are, tosser, but I know you are no father!"HE has him by his shirt with both hands.

"You are just upset I used the word nigger. Hey it's not really like that. I was just thrown by you banging my old lady. Hey in another circumstances we could be friends. Let me buy you a a beer at the bar."

"You just don't get it, tosser. I am 'ta bout ta beat you so you will never even think about going near my sister or niece again. DO YOU even know 'er name, tosser? " I had never thought Kim could get so angry.

"Her name is Dani!" Miles said nervously.

"AHT, wrong answer. I meant my niece not my sister, and you didn't even get that name right."

Miles grabs a knife out of his pocket, Kim hold him away from him.

"Not so tough now! I learned to fight in Kentucky, Limey!"

Kim quickly head butts Miles. Miles drops the knife and falls back.

"Sorry, Yank, I learned to fight in the pubs during football night." Kim Smiled and moved Miles out side, where he literally kicked him down the street. I don't know what happened next, but I never saw Miles again that year. Can't really remember how much longer it was before I had to deal with that fool again.

Kim came back about a half hour later.

He had a bit of blood on him. I cleaned him up.

"Ya know sis, you know how to pick 'em. I can see I 'ave my work cut out for me." He wasn't smiling. I stopped. I looked at him.

He grabbed me put me in a head lock, gives me a nudgy. "And I wouldn't have it any other way, my other little sister is too proper, never any excitement, no need for a big brother." Now he is smiling. I get up and finish wash off the blood, but I find no cuts.

I think that was the moment I realized I was hoping to God he was my brother. Silently tears ran down my cheeks.

musical biscuit

2009-06-28T10:32:00.003-04:00

SKA

Ska (pronounced /ˈskɑː/, Jamaican [skja]) is a music genre that originated in Jamaica in the late 1950s, and was the precursor to rocksteady and reggae.[1] Ska combined elements of Caribbean mento and calypso with American jazz and rhythm and blues. It is characterized by a walking bass line accented with rhythms on the offbeat.

Music historians typically divide the history of ska into three periods: the original Jamaican scene of the 1960s (First Wave), the English 2 Tone ska revival of the late 1970s (Second Wave) and the third wave ska movement, which started in the 1980s (Third Wave).
_______________________________

I can think of soemthing else ,other than rowing those rude boys are doing.

Rude boy, rudeboy, rudie, rudi or rudy were common terms for juvenile delinquents and criminals in 1960s Jamaica, and have since been used in other contexts.[1][2] During the late-1970s 2 Tone ska revival in England, the terms rude boy, rude girl and other variations were often used to describe fans of that genre, and this new definition continued to be used in the third wave ska subculture. In the United Kingdom in the 2000s, the terms rude boy and rude girl have become slang which mainly refer to people (largely youths) who are involved in street culture, similar to Gangsta or Badman.

_______________

The first rude boys in the 1960s were associated with the poorer sections of Kingston, Jamaica, where ska, then rocksteady were the most popular forms of music. They dressed in the latest fashions at dancehalls and on the streets. Many of these rude boys started wearing sharp suits, thin ties, and pork pie or Trilby hats; inspired by United States gangster movies, jazz musicians and soul music artists. In that time period, disaffected unemployed Jamaican youths sometimes found temporary employment from sound system operators to disrupt competitors' dances (leading to the term dancehall crasher). This — and other street violence — became an integral part of the rude boy lifestyle, and gave rise to a culture of political gang violence in Jamaica. As the Jamaican diaspora grew in the United Kingdom during the 1960s, rude boy music and fashion, as well as the gang mentality, became a strong influence on the skinhead subculture

Skinheads, originally, come out of the same *working class* culture
as ska. Just look at early Sixties pictures of Bob Marley, Peter Tosh
and Bunny Wailer -- they have no hair! Skinhead culture spread more
widely in the late Sixties as more and more Jamaicans went to the UK
and influenced the White youth culture there. These old UK bald-heads
were rude boys. Yesterday's and today's skinhead fashion has a legacy
from Black Jamaica. Since the first skinheads were trying to look like
shave-head rude boys, it makes all those Nazi skinhead types seem pretty
ignorant, eh? It's a good thing they are in the minority.

Ugly p 27

2009-06-27T09:54:00.000-04:00

It has been 2 weeks since I threw out Miles. It is all a blur really. A lot of the boys in my apartment. They take turns watching me and Freedom. And Watching Freedom so I can play in the part or the club. A lot of times we take her with us and have her enjoy the sun and music.

I hadn't seen or heard Oldest Father or Kim since that night. Maybe they were both in my imagination or some weird brain tumor like in a soap opera.

It is a beautiful late summer day in Boston. Lots of tourist in Boston in summer. They are from small towns where people don't play in the park for some spare change, they are either really cheap or really gergious. I sing a lot of old blues songs, or 1960's folk rock. It is popular. But the songs are pretty depressing. Love lost and such. A lot of Janis. Very popular with the women.

Eric today is holding Freedom as I play and sing. He is on the bench, has her in a carriage, ,this makes it look like tourist enjoying my music, more people come that way.

I look down to figure out my next selection.

"Why don't you sing that poppet something more fitting for childhood?" I hear money drop in my case with the request.

I look up.I look at Eric. He is smiling. "I guess this one was real." He says with a snicker.

"One of the boys?" I asked him quietly.

"Not one of my kind, darling, I do believe he is one of yours." Eric is still smiling at the tall man with long dreadlocks standing in front of me.

"Well, Emma, are you going to play something fitting for your daughter? I paid my money. Play my request, Luv." He said with a British accent. But he always had one.

"Hey, what did you call me?" Now I am curious, I had been chassing his ghost for so long, well it seemed so long. But how did he know that name.

"Emma. A good English name." He smiles, the one that files the whole world.

"Only one person called me that."

"Must have been the one who told me your name, then."

I started singing so I could digest this. Luke is dead. Luck called me Emma. And Kim is standing right in front of me. In all of my thoughts the best I could sing was this.

" Ha. An old girl's song. You can do better than that. She's your daughter after all." He said with a challenging look on his face.

I sit down. How does he know she's mine?

"How do you know she's not his? " I motion to Eric. "He's holding her."

"Because ta queen would have to change sex and have her himself, if EVER he was to have a baby, Duck are just not his bag, baby."

Well he is observant. I will give him that. I start singing. More and more people come as I do. I sing to Freedom. She smile's at me.

"Ah, now that is better. Her smile is just like her Ma's How could she be anyone else's child."

"Answers. NOW. Kim."

Now it was his turn to be shocked a bit.

"What, you think you were the only one with mystical powers? I thought I would open a juju shop in Salem. 'Madame Butterfly'" I said smiling at him, it was the only thing I had, I needed to use it before he introduced himself.

"So ya Ma told ya I was coming?"

"No, we don't talk." The night at the ER, I think back, 'Some guy was looking for you' maybe I should have called her back to talk a bit the next day. Damn.

"Oh, ta shame. A child should always talk to their Ma."

Who is he to say. Now I am getting pissy. "Not of they never acted like one and gave you up and than denied you to your siblings."

He has his hands up now. "Whoa, too much anger, little one. I came to find you, not talk about ya ma."

"Why did you come here, to find me, calling me a name that no-one has called me since I was about 4? Who told you the name?"

"Ma Da told me about you, gave me photos when he visitied me and Ma. Gave us money when he could. Gave me photos of you and him, said I had a sister."

"Well it ain't me, babe. I have no father."

Kim takes an envelope out of his bag. Opens it and hands the photos to me. They are of me and Oldest Father. There is one of a little boy and a woman and oldest father.

"Ah, that one's me and me ma and me da." He is smiling at these old photos.

"So you are Luke's son?" I was astonished.

No wonder I was so attracted to him, so drawn to him. There must be a piece of oldest father in his dark body that called to me.

" I heard he died back when I was abut 6. I'm sorry." I said trying to look distrote.

"That was a long time ago. I had hoped to meet you there. But I as told you were living with your grandparents by than."

"What did he die of." OH, that was insensitive. It was just that I wanted to know since the phone call with Bobbie that night. Again another thing I meant to talk to her about.

" It 'twas the 60's. An OD just like most of the ones who died. I spent a lota nights what ifing when I was younger. But by the time Ma married and me step Da became a Da to me and they had their own, I stopped.. He always said he was your Da." He looked at Freedom, touched her head. "He would have loved this little one."

"He was a good guy, from what I remember. Always acted like as father to me, but truth be told my mother has no clue who fathered me, too many orgies around the time I was conceived. Too many men. He was just one who stuck around." I look at him

"Your Ma told me something similar, less tarty version, but still insisted you were not my sister."

"Sorry, I am not your sister, but that means we can date. "

He looked at me with a bit of ick on his face.

"Or not if I am that repulsive." I started picking at my guitar again hoping to end that awkward moment.

"No, not at all, you are a lovely lass, a bit young for me, but lovely."

"I have a kid, I get that, too much baggage."

"No, I have been told since I was 6 years old, that I have a sister. And she is you. And you still might be, we just don't know. Da was citrine, said you had his grands nose and hands."

"You do realize we are not talking 3 men here, that we are talking dozens upon dozens of men?"

"Oh, girlfriend, your mom got her freak on!" Eric chimed in, loving this, he really never knew this about me.. He covers Freedom's ears "But, I don't think baby Free should hear the slutty details about her grandmother.

Kim looked half amused at Eric. "It just means it is 1 in 12 or 1 in 14 chance, but the chance is there. My Da, my step Da, has a bit of money, did well for 'im self back home in England. My Ma said she would pay for the test. We can know for sure. It is all I ask of you, than I will leave ya if ya want either way. I just want to know."

"Blood tests are crap, so we might have the same blood type, half the guys probably did."

"DNA, Luv. They can tell if we had the same Da pretty accurately. Will ya? "

I looked around. He seemed so real, all he asked is if I was his sister. It would be nice to know.

" How painful is this test?" I asked.

"Just some blood, not painful at all, the wait of a few months is the more painful than the blood that will be drawn. Then we can know if this little poppet has an Uncle Kim from England." He smiled as he played with Freedom's hand. " Wouldn't you like that, little one? " He bends back up and looks at me. "And wouldn't it be nice to have big brother? We can never have too many family." He smiled at me.

A brother. A brother who knows about me and likes me and wants to be my brother. A musical brother. A brother that looks like a lion and sings like Bob Marley and has a Brutish accent. A Brother.

"O.k., what do I have to loose."

"Ta, than it is done, we can go right now." He wraps his arms around me and hugs like he will never let go.

I had pictured my first meeting of Kim to end up in his arms, not quite like this though.

I sat own and played an old Bob Dylan tune. Kim got his steel Drum and played alone. I know the meaning was slightly diffrent, but the love was still there.

Ugly p 26

2009-06-21T20:05:00.004-04:00

lepidopterist
Noun
a person who studies or collects moths and butterflies.

I hop up the stairs. All happy and all. Kim, his name is Kim.

I open the door, the cloud of smoke comes out to choke me. I cough. I look inside, and see the most horrible sight.

"What is that!" I scream as I point to the frame on the wall.

"My mother sent it, she thought the baby would like it." Miles said with a smile.

"Why, the hell would I like it! Or Freedom for that matter! It is horrid!" I replied.

"She is a lepidopterist, she collects butterflies. I think they are beautiful.She really respects their beauty. I thought you would get that?"

"And than she puts a pin through them, she is sick! Why would I like that?"

"Hey I pinned you! You seemed to like it." He said with a smile and a slap to my ass.

I shuttered and went to see Freedom.

He was over her in her crib blowing pot smoke in her face.

"What the fuck are you doing?! You are not suppose to be in here! This is a pot free zone! You know that!" I look at him with daggers in my eyes. I go to grab Freedom.

"I wasn't hurtin' her. She was crying. We got her to stop, she's happy now. You know you can be such a bitch some times Dani, loosen up." Davey replied as if I caught him taking a cookie, not getting my daughter high.

Before I could reply I I noticed the baby bottle not filled with my milk but beer.
"WHAT THE FUCK!"

"You know you shouldn't yell around the baby like that, you really are not the best mother."

I take the bottle, not the baby. I get in Davey's face, I had to stand on tip toes. "HOW MUCH DID YOU GIVE HER! How much asshole? Do I need to take her to the hospital?"

HE takes me by the shoulders and pushes me onto the bed. "I said calm down, bitch. You know you really are an irrational little girl, not the type to be able to care for a baby, running around all night, leaving her alone. You are not taking her anywhere. They will just take her away from an unfit mother like you if you do."

With that Davey left to go join Miles in the living room. Laughing all the way. I could hear him say "Man you got to put a leash on that bitch of yours, and a muzzle, too. I don't know how you stand it."

I looked at the bottle, it was only about an eighth drunken. I think she will be o.k. I opened the window. Got her a bottle of milk from the fridge. I hoped it would dealt the alcohol and pot. I went back in the kitchen, found myself a great big old knife. I will show him 'irrational bitch'.

I ran into the living room knife in one hand, beer baby bottle in the other.
"Miles, dear, did you have anything to do with this, or do I just kill Davey?"

"She's crazy man!" Dave said as he moved away from me into a corner.

"That's right, funny man, if I am going to be a crazy bitch, I will eat your heart while I am doing it. You know it is a Voodoo thing, I learned about that from the blues man who taught me to play guitar." I said moving closer to the weaving Davey trying to find a way around me without getting cut.

Miles is laughing his butt off on the couch while I am ready to cut his best pot head friend.

Dave pushes by me and runs to the door. I follow. "Don't you ever come back, or your heart is mine!" I yelled after him.

Miles is now behind me. "That was fuckin' great, babe, he bought it hook line and sinker. You will have to do something else crazy next week to freak him out." He's still laughing.

"You too." I say very plainly.

"what, babe? Oh you are just riled up, why don't you calm down and make us something to eat. You will feel better." He is still smiling. He thinks it's a joke, he thinks I am a joke, he doesn't even think of Freedom. She is nothing but something for him to get high and laugh at.

"G-E-T O-U-T!"

He stops laughing. Now we are reversed. He is in front of the open door. I am near the wall. I put down the baby bottle full of beer.

"Get ouuuuuuuuuuch." He threw me up against the wall. His normally calm face is in mine now.

"You know I will take the baby away from you. You are nuts. Me and my mother . Against an unstable 16 year old girl. What judge wouldn't choose us. You have over stepped your bounds here, why don't you calm down. I will go get the brat and we will sit and watch t.v.." He let me down and to a step towards the baby's room.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER!" heard the familiar voice come from the open door. Next thing I knew Miles flew backwards down the 4 stairs to the landing and against the wall. I was in the door way. Oldest father.

I heard Eric and the boys down stairs "Butterfly, are you o.k.?"

"You got lucky, Dani. You were lucky to have me!" Miles screamed.

"NO, You got lucky and your luck just ran out!"

"She's mine. I will change her name. You'll never see her again and you will never even know her name. You are so fucked, bitch!" he snarled with a grin on his face.

I was calm and smiling. "I don't think so, you see Granny gave me only one gift. Don't you remember that paper you and your mom signed when I was pregnant?" I gave him a moment "You remember before I got sent away... The one where you both signed away any rights to MY daughter? And don't even think about braking into the apartment to find it. It's not here. "

I tuned and grabed the butterflies pinned in a frame and threw it at him.It cut him on the forehead. Blood dropping down. "Give your mother my regards."

I was about to slam the door when he said "But I'm the FATHER!? I have rights!"

"I don't know what you are, but you are no father. Luke, have fun beating him."

I slammed the door, but looked out the peep hole to see how badly Luke would hit Miles.

The though came to me, I am alone. I am truly alone. As I put my back to the door. A knock.

I turned and opened the door, "Daddy!"

There stood Eric and the boys, some of the boys were escorting Miles out. Listening to gay men showering threats at Miles was mildly amusing.

"Daddy, honey I ain't your Daddy and I never will be any woman's. Are you o.k?! And who is Luke?" Eric said very hurriedly.

"Luke, he's the older guy who pulled Miles off me. Where did he go?"

" Luke, Kim, all these imaginary men, girl I wish I had your imagination. How hard did he hit you, has he been hitting you in the head this week?" Eric said as he came in.

"No he only shoved me against the wall today. Really, the older guy? Please?" Now I am worried why I am seeing people who are not there.

Eric asked what happened. I explained, he rushed into see Freedom. He got some water to give to her. He convinced me to take her to the ER, though I feared someone would take her away.

At at ER waiting room I asked "Eric, why were you at my house tonight?"

"You were so out of it tonight, I just wanted to make sure you got him alright. Looks like you know how to take care of business. I didn't think you kick like that. When I said you should kick him out, I didn't mean literally. Ha ha." Eric kept the puns up for a while.

"Hey, Butterfly girl, I am glad you finally came to your senses I can finally tell Sandra and Carol it is o.k. to come visit again."

"Yeah, you cannnnn. " I stopped in my tracks "What do you mean? How do you know them?" Now I was studding him closely.

"Honey, we all know each other, us endanger species. They asked me to keep an eye on you." Now he was smiling. " I am so relieved I don;t have to keep that secret any more."

I signed, what are you going to do. So I cuddled int his armpit/ Hey he always smells good.

"Hey, Eric, can you watch Freedom I need to use the pay phone.".

He nodded and got up routed around in my coat for some dimes. I took out my little purple book. Looked up the number and dialed.

"Hey, is my Mot... Is Bobbie there?"

It was only 10pm over there but the guy on the phone acted like it was 1 am.

"Hi, Bobbie, it's me Danni. "

"How are you? How is the baby?"

I looked around the ER. "Fine, we are fine. What I really called you for was to know if you kept up with Luke?"

"Luke who, honey?"

"Luke they guy who took me fishing when I was little. The guy who held me at Woodstock when you came back. You know they guy you loved."

"Oh. Him. I haven't thought about him in years. Until recently. You are the second person who brought him up in a month's time. Why do you want to know about him?"

"I thought I saw him tonight."

"I don't think so dear."

"What make you so sure."

"He's dead. He died about 2 years after you left."

"Are you sure?" I was shocked.

"I did go to his funeral. We all did."

"I didn't, why didn't I? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think you would remember him."

"Well I did."

"I'm sorry, if I knew he meant so much. But that is a long time ago."

I hear Freedom's name called.

" I have to go."

"Wait, some guy a few years older than you is looking for you, I sent him your way."

They call her name again.

"I really got to go, bye."

I hung up the phone.

Eric went with Freedom and me into the ER. All those questions. He answered most of them. He explained that I was a victom of domestic violence. That I finally got the strength to end it when Miles drugged my baby. that I had asked Eric and the boys for back up. That I was NEVER going to let the abuser back near the baby or me again. I just kept nodding and sobbing. The nurse was convinced. They gave Freedom some test, for alcohol poisoning and such. They wanted to make sure she didn't; get too much into her system. It seems she barley had any in her. The nurse believes she must have thrown up most of whatever she drank. Thank God.

They checked out me. Bruises were starting to show on my torso from being pushed and shaved, they were convinced solidly of Eric's story. He contently left out the 16 year old part and the club singer.

"Nurse Nancy, Danni here is a young mother who trusted the wrong guy. He threatened to take the baby if she brought her here. You can see that she cared more about her baby than the idea she would be taken away. If this is reported she might find that threat a reality. Is there anything we can do?" He winked at her.

"She's fine. I can see she is a good mother. I see so many babies brought here by grandmothers and police." She looked at me now, " I hope you learned your leson and are more careful who you let around your baby and you."

"Yes. Mame."

She slipped pieces of paper from Freedoms and mine file to Eric.

"You better leave now, Quickly." She said over her glasses. "And keep up with the water and breast milk, she should be fine.

We exited stage right, right quick.

As soon as we were out of there I said. "That was sure lucky to get an understanding nurse."

"You make your own luck. And it helps if you stack the deck." Eric said.

"What do you mean?"

"I told you we all know each other. She's one of the endangered." He smiled.

He walked me home and helped me clean the sheets of the beds. We found where Freedom threw up the beer. He stayed with me that night. HE slept in my bed. I never felt so safe with a man in my bed. And he smelt damn good.

Ugly p25

2009-06-20T01:23:00.007-04:00

One of my kind. What a concept.

I made a lot of money that day.

Didn't see the man again that day.

I went home after my happy day in the park.

I am not a lone.

This concept, not alone, was foreign to me. I had accepted I was the only one of my kind so long ago, I don't know when it was.

I got home.Miles was on the coach. Freedom was in her room. She is always in the bedroom when I come home.

I went to pick her up.

"Damn, Miles, she has a full diaper again?! Do you ever change her or wait for me to come home? "

"She must have just filled it baby, you know she's a little poop machine."

I change her. She has a rash that has not gone away in weeks.I give her a bath. I give her a bath every day. It eases the pain from the rash. I don't believe he changes her. I don't believe he touches her. But I don't want to believe her father would not take care of her.

I feed Freedom. She smiles at me. I pump milk at the same time. I have a gig in a few hours at the club. I am engorged from the 4 hours I was out with her. She is very hungry. She always is when I come home.

Tonight Eric is brings a bunch of his boys to fill the audience and try to create buzz about me. I had been handing out leaflets at the park. I was half hoping one would find it's way to him. Him, I don't know his name. His face. It is all I have.

I finish up with Freedom. I dress her and bring her into the kitchen to make supper before I leave. She loves to watch me cook. I tell her everything I am doing. Miles says it is stupid to think she could understand what I said,. He says she is like a puppy, no ability to understand. I know he is wrong. I just don't get why after 6 weeks he doesn't seem to feel a connection to his daughter. She ,must be so bored left here with him. Maybe I can find a way to have some of the boys help watch her while I play.

Fantasies are going threw my head of the man showing up at the gig. Then 17 different scenarios ensue, until Miles brakes the spell. "Shouldn't you get ready for the gig?"

"Yeah you going to be o.k. with Freedom?"

"Yeah, my boys are coming over. Did you make enough food for everyone, we get hungry, you got the chips for me?"

"I didn't have enough food stamps, they have to last me more weeks." I look away from him so he can't see my expression.

"Come on baby, you can't eat that much, you girls eat like birds. Don't be selfish, what are we suppose to do,starve?"

"I am feeding a baby!"

"Yeah and your milk bags give her food for free, see you don't need all the food stamps."

"What I eat,she eats, I need to eat healthy."

"Don;t be silly, babies in Africa hang of their mother's tit and they have almost no food, they still survive. What kind of woman lets her man starve as she eats all the food, a pig, that's what."

I don't want to get him mad before I leave him with Freedom alone. I grab the $20 I had left for food and hand him the food stamps. "That's all I have, there is no more until next month. Don't spend it all." I smile at him.

"That's better, baby. But I don't know if it will feed my buddies too, do you have any money from today."

"I already gave it to you." I said, turned from him again. " Have you looked for a job today?"

"Don't nag me, I can't deal with the stress. For that I wont look tomorrow. You have to learn to stop nagging!" it that he acted all indingnat and walked back into the living room.

I breath out. I feed Freedom one more time. As she starts to fall asleep her little hand holding my breasts I place her gently into her crib, and kiss her goodnight.

"I'm leaving now. See you after the gig. Freedom should be asleep a while. She wouldn't be much trouble." I say as I start leaving out the door. I notice his buddies have already started arrive. "Hey Dave."

"Hey Danni, good luck or brake a leg or what ever you say. What's for supper?"

"Lasagna's in the fridge."

"Cool, did you put sausage in it this time?"

"Nope, still vegetarian, but you are welcome to bring you make next time."

I left. They never get the hint. I started telling them I was vegetarian when I realized they ate all my meat the first night they came over. It was just easier that way, and cheaper. It never bothered me not to eat it around them.

The walk to the T station and to the club seemed to fade into a world of what ifs. I still had dreams of 'him' showing up. I came up with all sorts of fanciful names that might be his. Before I knew it I was at the club. Went in the back door.

In all my dreamy state, I forgot my make up, other than some lipstick , red of course and black eyeliner. My cover up pancake makeup was still at home. I was kind of lost.

I started walking out towards the stage. Eric and his boys were coming the other way.

"Hey false face." He said as he hugged me. "Where is your mask?"

"I thought people know me well enough now to handle some truth." I said saving the real reason.

"You forgot it at home, didn't ya?" He said laughing. "It's o.k, BUTTERFLY, it suits you to be yourself. That way your own kind can spot you easier." He said with a smile. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, "We'll be yelling the on floor. Play something good for us. Something I never heard you play before."

He and the crew turned to leave.

"Oh just make it easy for me, " I yelled after him. I could hear him laugh after they were out of sight.

I stepped on stage.

"Hi, I'm Papillion. Or Butterfly if you will." There was a great cheer from the boys. Oh I could hear Eric loudest of all. " I wanted to play some songs for you. I'll star with some I wrote a few months ago. "

I started out with three New wave type music I had written.

They went over well.

" So now I would like to play a song, something my friend, Eric, has never heard me play before. This is an old song. It was written by a man who I was born on his birthday, Bob Dylan."

It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)
Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool's gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.

Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.

So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.

As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.

An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.

Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.

You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.

A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.

For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.

While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him.

While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.

But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.

Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me?

And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.

I emphasize a piece of that, Eric Cheered after I did. I did my own turn, a bit punky a bit new wave a bit blues. A Lot of me.

The crowd liked it. Well why not, he is the master of words after all. I finished off with 3 more Dylan songs. not as easily known, Ones that are not played on the radio usually. Baby Let Me Follow You Down, Dink's Song, and Tough Mama.

It was all received very well. This was my best set yet, people were cheering that did not come just for that purpose.

I was on a serious high from life that night.

Eric and the boys and I walked outside, talking laughing and just enjoying life when I saw him, across the street. I could barely tell Eric when I was already crossing the street towards him. I could hear the conversation as I got closer.

"Hey, my name is Kim Elliot."

All of a sudden I see lights, hear car horns and am pulled backwards fast.

"Hey!" I screamed.

Eric started yelling at me in a few languages before he got to English. "Girl you almost got smushed, than where would Freedom be? Huh? You girl need to keep yourself alive if she is to have a chance."

"It's him!"

"Who?!"

"Kim Elliot!"

"Who is she?"

"He, the guy. THE GUY!"

"The guy is named a girls name?"

"No it's a guy's name." Eric just looked at me. "Di you not read, o.k. see the movie Kim? Kipling? Anyone?"

A sea of blank stairs.

" Never mind" I say. "The guy is right over there..." I pointed across the street, but he wasn't there.

"O.k. honey, what ever you say. " one of the boys said.

"Come on, one of you had to see him?"

They all nodded No.

"Maybe he's a ghost, you might be psychic. Gifted. That is totally bitchin! Do me next."

I couldn't tell if Eric was kidding or not.

"Not with a 10 foot pole!"

I walked the mile home. I know his name. Kim. His name is Kim.

ugly p 24

2009-06-19T16:04:00.000-04:00

Ah, life with Miles.

What can I say?

It's been over a month.

He slipped into your apartment is my apartment routine real quick. And I am man you are woman, therefor I lay about with my new friends and you cook and clean for us, and for Christ sakes keep that brat quite when we are smoking our joints.

All of this will "I love you, babe." Every now and than.

He had a grand plan to live off the state while he went to school. He seriously had the plan of me popping out a few more babies so I could get more money. Every time we had sex he would say, "Take my seed. Receive my seed. Woman's job is to take the seed ." Later he would say it was just "sex talk". I went down to the clinic after the first night of that and got on the pill. There was no way I was going to have baby after baby. I had plans. I love my Freedom, but I have plans.

I could not live of the state effectively with Freedom. I still needed to ply my trade in the Boston commons or near subways or at the financial district. The tourist in summer and the businessmen rich and on cocaine were the best tippers. One guy in a suit and a car salesman's smile gave me a 50 dollar bill because my song reminded him of his first girlfriend. How Donovan's Atlantis reminded him of an old girlfriend I do not know, but I was happy to have the money.

When I had good days, I squirrelled the extra away. Miles had an idea how much I made on an average day and so he expected it when I got home. You see the first week he moved in he did everything with me, including the sidewalk gigs. He held Freedom and I sang. Now he counts on the money I do laundry and by diapers with for him and his friends to get drunk or high. I convinced him the diapers were needed and laundry still needed to be done.

Some how he thought it was my duty to do his too. Never giving me money for laundry or detergent, nor did he even carry the laundry to and fro. He said "I'll watch the baby so you can have time to yourself. See you in an hour, no later than two, I can't watch her all day. "

You know I realized after 3 weeks, I realize he never calls her by her name, it is always ways, the brat, the baby, the squirt, your child, etc, but never Freedom.

He watched her while I did my sidewalk gigs. Now I could go out every day, not just on weekend when Sandra and Carol used to come by. Since Miles moved in they don't come by no more. He never liked them anyways. He would say "Being around those dikes will turn the baby into a carpet muncher." Though he had no problem with my gay men friends. As long as they didn't hang around him and his friends.

One of the things I looked forward to was being able to see them. On different days we would do the same areas. My closet buddy is Eric Star. He is Micmac. He actually had an English last name or French But he dropped it saying it was to white and he was red outside and rainbow inside but not white. It was an Indian joke I didn't get for a few weeks after I meet him.

Eric I would see a few times a week. He would juggle and sing and ride a unicycle, he said he learned from some French circus troupe up in Canada. He was fun to watch. He Was mostly joy bundled up in a hug. But under there was pain.

Oh , Eric had friends. The gay men all seemed to know each other. One had a small club. Eric convinced him to let me play the club one night a week. I would open for a local favorite like Til Tuesday. I got to know more musicians in the town. Soon people liked me too. I introduced the young punk crowd to punk with some soul, blues and anything else I felt like playing. I played with a harder edge in the club, then I did on the streets.

Before I went on the first time, Miles made me wear theater makeup to cover my wings. He said people would think I was a freak and never hear my music. I believed him. On the street people expect the street performers to be , well not normal in a lot of ways.

Eric always complained about me wearing the make up. I told him all people who go on stage where a mask of some sorts. He asked me if I was Seneca.

"What's Seneca?"

"Iroquois. Butterfly, They have that false face society, always wearing masks, serious juju stuff. But girl you are doing just the opposite, you cover your power up, didn't the old Navajo grand mother tell you about it when she named you? "

This was a talking to I got almost every time I wore it on stage , which was every time I went on stage. He came down to just calling me False Face, when I was going on stage.

At least I can play my music, make some music, have someone watch Freedom while I did so. Even if Miles didn't know how much I really made.

One day I was in the park with Eric setting up. I saw this young man. He Was playing a steel drum and all sorts of instruments for Africa. He is fun of sunshine, his skin so beautiful, his smile like the the rainbow in the sky when it is still dark menacing clouds. He head full of small braids that fly around like a mane when he swings when he really gets a rhythm going. He becomes part of his music.

"Who's he?" I said to Eric.

"Who's who, bub-la?"

"Yonder young man?" I motion with my head. As I am not looking at him now.

"He good looking?"

"Hell, yeah, can't you see?"

I turned to look and he was gone. He must of left as I was trying to nonchalontly get Eric to look. A old man in his place on the bench now.

"Girl, I didn't know you had a grandpa fetish, but anything would be better than that boy you got at home. When you going to take out that trash anyway?" Oh Eric has his way of saying thing no-one else could get aways with.

I look at him hard.

"Hey just telling it as it is, nothing you don't know, girlfriend"

"Where did he go?"

"Who?"

"The Bob Marley look alike that was over there."

"You'll find him some day if it was meant to be. There are only so many places in the city you can hide, as my last lover." Eric laughs at his own joke.

"What if I don't?"

"Trust in the universe, honey, it always provides, just usually not when we want it to. What was he doing?"

"Playing drums and stuff."

"Ah than you will see him again as long as Miles still watches that precious little jewel of yours. He will be around. Fresh meat on the common, people." Eric says while waving about.

"It's not like that."

"than how is it like."

"It's something inside."

"You didn't say anything to him yet, and vice verse, you sure it isn't something stirring inside you?"

"Not like that."

"It's always like that."

"Not always. Something. Some connection. Like I have seen him before, but I never did."

"I forget how young you are sometimes." Eric said while siting on a bench.

"Thanks, pull the older and wiser card out, you know that will only get you kicked."

"No, girl, Butterfly, come sit with me for a few minutes before we start." He pats the bench next to him.

I sit down next to him and await his wisdom.

"You saw one of your kind, I suspect. You are not the only one of your kind in the world. Oh , don't get me wrong child, you are one unique creature, endangered for sure, but not to extension, you are not alone."

"What are you talking about?"

"You never noticed you are different, you don't fit in? I noticed that about me when I was just a little boy. I new back on the rez, the other boys were not like me. Endangered spices, I am. But in the city, there are for more people like me, not as much as these others." He wave his arm as if to point to all the people around us. "Not that one over there, he's a boy like me, and she's a boy like me, too."

"We are all different."

"Yes, but some of use are more different than others. And those of us who are endangered species have to stick to get together.We aren't always the same, yo think the boys down here in Boston understand what it was like growing up on the res? No. But we do understand a lot more about growing up knowing we were not like what our fathers wanted from their sons? "

"I'm not gay."

"Nope, there are more of us than there are of you. But you stick with us and we with you. Once, I was told, people excepted people, no endangered species, we were all the same and different and it was o.k., but that was long before the French and English and Dutch and Spanish came here. Now peoples they exclude, it's always us and them. So now us endangered species , we got to stick together to survive."

"What does this have to do with the man,I don't think he was one of the boys. "

"You saw one of your kind, you could feel it down to your soul. You now know, you now know."

"Know what?"

"You are not alone. Have you not been listening? You have found another one of what ever you are. I recognized it on your face, your voice, I remember when I first found one of my kind, it was the same way."

"So what are you saying, I am not alone, but I lost him pretty quick."

"You'll find each other again, if it meant to be. Good morning morning glory."

"Good Morning, dude your clock is off it is afternoon."

"Morning has broken for you, my love, time to whip the sleep out of your eyes and let the sun shine in, you have just become enlightened to a universal truth... now go play while there is money to be made. "

Musical Interlude

2009-06-18T15:16:00.002-04:00

Life in a city.

Do you remember the drug of choice in the 80's?

Gender bending all the rage with the cool kids. But do you want to hurt me would have been too easy a choice.

This is littler known group.

ugly 23

2009-06-15T00:12:00.007-04:00

I love how babies at 2 months old will start to smile at you every morning and every opportunity they have just because they know how much you like it.

Oh how Freedom loves to smile.

You know she got these dimples and this wide full of joy way of smiling that makes me forget almost anything. It is so wide it fills all of this small 3 room apartment.

I open the shades to the small place every morning. It is part of and old Victorian. It always seems like it would have been the maid's quarters. How many a young woman my age would have been living here over the years looking over the same streets.

The big city. I can get used to this, something always to do.

Like the Troggs said "Boston your my town."

You might wonder how I got here 2 months after the hospital room. Well the quick answer would be welfare.

But there are no real quick answers in life.

Remember how I would go to town to go shopping with Carol and Sandra when I was preggers with the little pumpkin pie? Well, the first time they took me I saw a man singing in the park and people would give him money in his guitar case. Just for singing and playing. Can you believe that.

The next time we went I brought my guitar and played on the sidewalk. I played the blues. Blues is always something best heard live. They liked it. I always got some money. I got more and more popular. People sometimes ran to pay phones to call their friends to come hear me play. As my belly got larger I got sympathy money on top of it. When all was said and done and Freedom was coming into the world I had saved up $3,459.76. Now that may not sound like a lot in the scream of things but it was a great deal for me. It was enough for first last a deposit. With some left over for second hand furniture and to get on the roles of Massachusetts great welfare system.

Being a young woman with a baby I needed a plan. I had no man to provide for us. So I simply decided I could use some help.

When Granny heard I decided to keep the baby she said "Well, you want to make grown up decisions, have fun being a grown up int the world. Write when you can support yourself. Don't be calling here for any hand outs. We Are not a charity."

And that was all she hung up the phone.

Disowned, I think they call it when your family aren't your family any more. You would think I would care more. It was honestly a relief. I had no clue where I was going, I just knew where I didn't want to go. That was easier than I thought. I really didn't want those people helping raise Freedom anyway.

Sandra and Carol helped find me this apartment. They helped me get on welfare.They helped me enroll in GED classes. They told me "This is not an option, you are getting your GED!" They told me it was so I could enrol in college and start using my brains for good. I did promise them. During the weekends one or the other will visit usually. They will watch Freedom while I do homework or go play in the park for my extra money.

If anyone things welfare is a free ride they are dead wrong. They give you just enough, not enough and barley enough.I don;t know where they think I could live off what they give me, but I just pay my rent with it. My bills are always a play catch up. The lady who explained it to me told me I should spend no more than a third on rent. I asked her where do you live for 300$ a month with a baby. She showed me housing projects in Dorchester. I would hear guns go off, but I know there ere no deer int her parts and it was armed hunting humans. I would rather beg for money than raise Freedom there. But I don't beg, I sing, I sing for our survival.

That is what it is survival. It comes when you don't have enough for too long so you do what you have to just to survive. This is what welfare is like. I know the only way out is to go to college so I can get a good job for me and my child. I sing always.

So this morning I bring the smiling little one to be changed. I bath her and put her in a pretty dress Sandra bought her.

The think about Boston it is so, well Irish in a way. The music, the people, the pubs. I wanted to practice a song I heard long ago for the next time I went to the park.

Oh you know I changed it a little bit as I sat and sang it to Freedom.

As I was goin over the cork and smokey mountains
I saw captain farrell and his money he was countin
I first produced my pistol and then produced my rapier
I said stand and deliver or the devil he may take ya

Musha ring dum a doo dum a da
Whack for my daddy-o
Whack for my daddy-o
Theres whiskey in the jar-o

I took all of his money and it was a pretty penny
I took all of his money and I brought it home to Miles
He swore that hed love me, never would he leave me
But the devil take that man for you know he tricked me easy

Being drunk and weary I went to Miles' chamber
Takin my money with me and I never knew the danger
For about six or maybe seven in walked captain farrell
I jumped up, fired off my pistols and I shot him with both barrels

Now some women like the fishin and some women like the fowlin
And some women like ta hear a cannon ball a roarin
Me I like sleepin specially in my Miles' chamber
But here I am in prison, here I am with a ball and chain yeah

I started tolaugh tomyself as Freedom smiled on ather mother singing the silly song.

Along comes a wrapping on my door.

Stange enough I was expecting no-one.

I walked over, peeked out of the spyhole. Andas they say, "as Ilive a breath" there stood Miles. Almost 1 year after I left Kentukey.

I opned the door.

He stood there with a great big old smile. Damn she has his smile.

"Hey Blue's Lady! I heard you decide to keep the little squirt I'm going top school around here next year , thought I would look you and my baby up."

He stood there smiling. Like nothing happend. His baby! His baby! Where was he past the pleasure?!

I started to slam the door shut, he stopped it with his foot. "Hey, we are both older and wiser, eh." He said.

"Oh, I got older and wiser real fast, and what life changing experiences made you older and wiser?"

"Hey graduated High School. And somewhere out there was a id of mine.Hey that weighs on a guys mind."

"Is that more or less heavy than being a pregnant girl that her lover denies?" I looked at him wishing he could feel all the pain he caused me.

He walked in the door and grabbed my head gently and kissed me quick.

Old feelings stirred.

Thoughts of a family stirred.

Thought of a normal life for Freedom flooded my head.

Thoughts of a wedding.

Thoughts of a house.

Thoughts of more children , brothers and sisters for my Freedom.

Thoughts of everything but me.

I kissed him back.

He looked at me. "I heard you named it something hippieish." He brought in 3 bags. "It's about time we play house. See if this could work. Where is your t.v.? " He sat down on my coach.

There was no t.v., it wasn't in the welfare budget.

"Why don't you get a job and buy one for us?" I looked at him head cocked.

"I heard you were on welfare, don't they give you money for that stuff up here? Welfare mothers get cadillacs. Maybe we don't have enough kids yet." He said with a smile "What's for breakfast, mama?"

And that is how he moved in with me in my little apartment in Boston.

Ugly 22

2009-06-15T00:11:00.001-04:00

My child is perfect.

Thank God, she is perfect.

She will not know what I have known. She will not bear the sins of her parents on her face.

Her name? Damn. I hadn't thought about it. I didn't know I could not bare to let her go. To give her to strangers.

Let's see.

Janis. No, she was too depressed, I don't want my baby girl to grow up depressed and lonely yet surrounded by people. That can be the worse kind of lonely. But I want her as talented.

Bobbie or Dylan. She is born on bob Dylan's birthday, really. Not Like the fake way I got the birthday. Naw, my mother probably think it was an homage to her. Heaven forbid.

Precious. Beloved Moses' wife. But I really didn't know her.

Oh so many names went through my brain. I needed st stop and just look at my baby. She will tell me.

I turn her over. Naked. Perfect. Small. And what is this between her shoulder blades? A little butterfly birth mark.

"That is only a wine port stain, she will grow out of it." The nurse says as she sees me examining her.

" I hope not. It is her freedom. He wings to fly." Just like me I thought.

"Freedom." I say. Looking at her wings.

"What?" the nurse said,thinking I was woosie from giving birth.

"Her wings, my wings it is our freedom. We are free."

I totally felt Free at that moment. I breathed out.

"FREEDOM FOREVER." I say.

"What are you going on about, child?" Carol said . Both her and Sandra were over me and the baby.

"Her name."

"Yes. what is her name, hadn't thought of one, did ya." Sandra said. Knowing full well this was more a whim but a last minute life changing decision just the same.

"I told you."

"Told us what?" Carol said trying to wrap the baby up again.

"Her name."

"In all that gibberish? Can you remind us?" Sandra helped wrapped her up. I think they were about to fight over who got to hold her first.

"Freedom Forever."

"Her name?" They said together.

"Yeah, her name is Freedom Forever."

"Who gave you the drugs before you came here?" Carol scrutinized me.

" Did you see HER birth certificate. Carol? You know she was born into a commune in San Fransisco, be glad it is only two names." Sandra winked.

"It is only two names? Right?" Carol smiled.

"Kids from hippies all way pick weird names or weird spellings." One of the nurses said to the doctor. In a whisper, like I could not hear in in this small room. "How are you spellings that dear?" she said to me.

"Oh, with 4 Ps and 8 Qs.relatively normal otherwise. I am a bit dyslexic. That is correct. right?" I said with sarcasm that could be cut with a knife.

"Are you serious?!" Some of the nurses said in unionsin

"No, stupid, F-R-E-E-D-O-M F-O-R-E-V-E-R. First name Freedom, second name Forever."

"Is Forever the father's last name or yours?" The oldest nurse inquired.

"It is her's"

"Well you can always change it later, if you think of something better." the doctor said as he signed birth certificate in such a sweet, isn't she young type tone.

Carol and Sandra fight over who gets to hold her as I fall asleep.It is over. the pain is over. The past is over.

Ugly 21

2009-06-14T18:21:00.005-04:00

This last month.

It is hot. It is May. Unusually hot for May in Vermont, or so I believe. Sandra tells me it is just me and my pregnancy. I feel like this baby could come any minute. I am sure heavy enough for it to do so. They tell me it still has to cook for another month.

In this last month I go to Lamaze classes. Sandra or Carol go in as my coach, They teach me to "breath though the pain". Hell, No. When the time comes I will breath in and breath out "Drugs!". I feel silly doing the exercises. There are 10 other pregnant women there,but they are all there with their husbands. Women older then me. the couples will look at me in different ways. Some with pity in their eyes, some with judgment, some with superiority. Oh they say kind enough words tome. They all say how nice it will be to get on with my life afterwards. 2 actually told me I was noble for giving a poor baron woman my child so that a nice couple could start their family.

One told me she hoped it had my eyes, since blue eyed babies are so in demand. I asked her "Are children with butterflies on their face also on demand?"

She looked horrified. I think it came to her that my birth mark might be genetic. Than she skirted away fro me.

But then I thought 'what if my birthmark is genetic?'. My Mother and her family didn't have one, but who knows who my father is. These are the times I wish I knew. Will the people who want a blue eyed child rejected because it had a birth mark or needed fixing like I did.

This was the first time I questioned if I would have a normal child. Now it was all I could think of. I could not even voice my concern. I had nightmares that my child would look just like me and no-one want it. It was left alone in an orphanage. All alone while I went on with my life never knowing. When I said nightmares I mean every night. Is there some special knowledge that only the mother has when she is pregnant with her child? Did my mother have nightmares of me? Did she dismiss them?

Now I am getting closer to my own pretend birthday. The nightmares persist and I see the butterfly child crying. Oh, how the child cries all alone, no-one picks it up. Finally I come I pick up the butterfly child. I hold the child I cry. I whisper in it's ear. " I am here, mama's here. I will never leave you. Don't cry." And it stops crying. It smiles. It hugs me. I smile and hug back.

The very next day was my birthday. I know that Carol and Sandra were planing a party. They do for all the girls.

I got up, got my robe on. I went right into their office. Sandra was sitting behind the desk going through official papers.

She looks up and smiles. " Hi, hon. I actually wanted to see you. I wanted to show you some of the perspective parents, that way you could get a feel for who will adopt your baby." She had some folders in her hand.

"About that, my baby. "

"Yes."

" I want my baby."

"You are emotional and this time can be a very emotional time for a young woman..."

"Emotional or not, I want my baby."

"Why don't you just look at the prospective mothers. Maybe one will make you feel better about the decision"

I sit down and open the folder after folder trying to remember to breath.

Everyone of the mothers had blue eyes.

"Don't brown eyed people want to adopt babies?" I asked.

She laughed a bit. "People who want to adopt babies want to try to find babies who will match their own looks."

"Why? A child is a child."

"Well.. Well they don't want the child to feel like an odd duck in the family."

"Why would it, it already knows it was adopted."

"Not always, some parents choose not to tell their child that."

"So the child may never know it had a mother before? How could a choose a mother who would lie to my child?"

"It's just an omission, once you give up the baby, it is not yours, you are not the mother, the new woman is. These women are all older than you, they have husbands, families, houses, they live in good neighbourhoods and would send the child to good schools, their husbands all have good jobs. They can afford to give the child everything it needs. Young mothers struggle. They can not always support the baby. They don't have support systems. They don't have good jobs. They don't have the patients a child requires. They don't have the experience a child needs. If you are still growing and becoming a adult how will you raise someone else to be one?"

"Let me meet these three. Today." With that I got up and waddled out of the room. I tried to do it with as much dignity as possible and hide the fact I needed the bathroom 10 minutes before. As soon as I was out of the room I got back to the upstairs bathrooms as fast as I could.

I spent and hour getting ready for the day. My energy level seemed to be a little low in the last few days. The hot shower felt so good on my aching back and belly. I started feeling more energy now.

I came down and ate breakfast.I wasn't very hungry. Unusual for me, I have been eating like a horse the last month.

By noon there were three women in the parlor for me to meet.

Looking at them they looked like 3 perfect people. All with gold bands. All in bright clothes. All with uneasy smiles at me.

I came in and sat down.They all stared at my face.

"It's not genetic, I assure you. Though any child from any mother might have a birth abnormality." Carol said to the woman.

They all smiled and shook their heads as if to say, "Of course I knew that."

"Oh, she is lying of course, in my case, my mother had the same birth mark and clef lip and my grand mother and her mother , too" Now I look for the reactions.

Carol did a quick look at me with a "What the hell are you doing" look on her face.

The women all had the same scared stare on their faces, worse than before.

"She's kidding, such a kidder. Great sense of humor. And that is genetic." Carol quickly said.

"So is teenage pregnancy, I am the same age my mother was when she had me." O.k. I lied, I am now 16 and that is not genetic.

They stared at me again worry on their faces. O.k. these women are not the brightest women. My child will be able to out smart them by the time it is 5.

"Danni, stop teasing the poor women." Carol half scolded " One of them will have the pleasure of being the baby's mother. "

"Speaking of that, Which one of you would adopt a child that looked like me, you see my own mother rejected me when I was born, I want to make sure you wont do the same."

None spoke. None thought of a child that was not perfect. they heard blue eyes and white and they wanted that child.

"Contestant number 1: What would you do if this child came out looking exactly like me? Or had any of a number of birth defects? What would you do?" I looked at the women at the end to the left.

" I ... I had not thought about it. I would have to discuss that with my husband." She smiled nervously.

I did not want a mother who would have to refer to her husband every time something happened. What kind of mother would that be?

"Contestant number two: Same question." I looked at the middle one.

"It would depend on what the birth defect was? how many drugs did you do during your pregnancy, dear? I would also have to find out what my husband thought, too."
She smiled as if she had the right answer. She did not. A real mother doesn't get to choose what she can deal with and what she can not,nor again does she have to get her husbands opinion on what she thinks.

"Contestant number three: Same question." Now the last mother the one on the right, I looked at the woman on the right.

She spoke clearly with authority. " Of course I would love the child no matter how it turned out. My husband and I love children and if God mad the child different that is just what God intended , who am I to disagree with God." She smiled confidently at me.

She was full of bullshit.

I saw how she looked at me, just liked the other women. She would always lie to my child.

I stood up to tell them off when a sharp pain came in my belly and I felt like I peed myself. What was going to be a wonderful speech to put them all in their places came out "Oh. Crap!. Ahhhh."

I looked at Carol. She placed her things down on the table picked up the phone and called the doctor to tell her we were coming in.

I looked at the women , now looking very happy. "Sorry ladies, bottom line, I'm keeping my baby, it would outsmart you when it was still a toddler anyway. There are some stupid girls who are pregnant here, they would be better for you. AHHHHH"

I barely got the words out when another sharp pain came.

"Sorry ladies, as Danni mentioned we do have other girls here who will have babies soon, I need to get this one to the hospital. Thank you for coming in." And Carol ushered them out the door.

She turned back to me holding my belly and wincing in pain. "Proud of yourself,dear? It's a good thing you are in labour and in so much pain, it make me want to hit you less."

I managed a smile. I know they would never hit me or anyone else here.

"Is your bag packed?"

"No"

"No?!" She said "Did you not think this was coming, we have been telling you for weeks to have that thing packed."

I started up the stairs. Carol rounded up the things she needed, Sandra, car keys, snacks for her and Sandra, books, etc.

I found things pretty quickly and within 3 contractions I was packed.

Sandra rushed up to the my room, took the bag from me and helped me down the stairs.

The bumpy ride to the hospital I will never forget. The small red car had seem to have no shocks left and hit every bump, I think Carol was exacting her revenge. Later she said it was all in my head.

What can I say about the process of checking into a hospital when pregnant. They make you wait too long, tell you that you have a long time to go and you should be patient. They put you though a lot of humiliating exam, You know what, let's just put it this way, Miles touched me less down there than I got touched by at least 20 people now. Teaching hospital can make you feel less human and more farm animal then they really know.

The labour was, well, come on,you all saw movies or have been though it. A lot of screaming a lot of pain a lot of sweating. A lot of wondering how I ever got myself hear to begin with. And of course the swearing of sex forever. The nurses laughed at that one, they said almost every woman says that. Even when it's their forth kid.

All I could think of after 4 hours of this, and the 1/2 hour of pushing was "what of Sandra is right." I can always give one of those women the baby. The second one wasn't that bad.

It is amazing how much energy and power you have in that time. The last push and out it comes. They take it and clean it up. A Doctor is stitching me up down there and no-one is telling me anything.

There is a little commission over by the baby. I realize I don't hear a cry. Aren't babies suppose to cry when they are born?

"Hey! What is wrong with my baby?" I say rather forcefully.

"One of the older nurses turns towards me "It is best if you don;t get attached dear, we will take it away now.

"STOP!"

They do.

They look at Sandra and Carol. they nod it was o.k..

"Is it dead?" I said very sheepishly.

"Oh, no dear. It is very much alive." One of the doctors said looking up.

"Than why isn't it crying."

The teacher doctor , the oldest one spoke "That is because she is breathing nicely on her own, they don't all cry, and this one is smiling. She is watching us."

"Of course she is watching you, you are in HER face... She's a girl?"

"Usually what SHE means" the doctor replied ho was stitching my privates.

The teaching doctor resumed. " No, it is not usual, it means she is very intelligent."

"Let me see her, bring her to me." I said.

"Really," the nurse said "it is better not to get yourself attached. It is better to forget."

She was trying to be nice enough, she knew where I was from.

"Forget what, my child! Are you crazy? Give me my baby!" I am now very agitated and would have gone right over there if I wasn't still being sewed up.

"She's keeping her baby. She has decided to keep her baby. Please do treat her with all the respect you would treat any other mother." Sandra sharply spoke.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I thought... of course you can see her. " The nurse swaddled the baby and brought her to me. the doctor at my posterior was finally finished and got up to leave.

I was afraid at first. I worried what she would look like. She handed me the baby. I looked down expecting to see my face. But I didn't I saw her face.Her beautiful perfect face. I unwrapped her, looked her over , perfect in every way. Ten fingers. Ten toes. Two arms and legs. One perfect little nose.

"Let me show you how to feed her." The nurse spoke and broke me out of my spell.

Feed. Oh, I had not thought of that. And damn, that girl has a good appetite. She looked at me, I looked at her. Time stopped. All was right in the universe.We had each other and all was as it should be. She looked at me, she was feeding from me, I was feeding her. We were still connected, but now we could see each other. Tears of joy ran down my cheek. I smiled at her. We would be alright.

"What is her name?" One of the doctors asked.

Oh, man, name?

musical biscuit

2009-06-13T20:40:00.003-04:00

Doesn't the lead singer look like that guy from Coupling? Well with glam makeup on.

In 1982 Disco and glam rock and punk rock gave birth to new wave. In New England Butterfly now would have the luxury to listen to the emerging punk and new wave scene which most people look back on the 80's and see it as.

In most of the 80's when music talked about war it was about Viet Nam or the Cold War or the what if war. Occasionally there were some human rights stuff.

I thought I would put up some music she might have been listen to while being pregnant. This would have been the early 80's before everyone feared the nuclear are between nations.

He was so cute.

A good local band everyone in the area heard.

He was so young back than. This was all over the local radio when I was young. I used to love this song. Walk away, walk away, I will follow.

Ugly p.20

2009-06-07T01:49:00.006-04:00

Wow.

It seems time stopped there for months. At that door. On the yellow victorian porch.

It is a home for girls in trouble. The with child kind of trouble. So many preggo young women everywhere. I was on the younger side of the girls at 15. There were actually two girls younger than me. One fourteen and one twelve.

The twelve year old was from Louisiana. She told me she got her belly from her step daddy. Her mother blamed her for 'seducing her husband' and sent her here. She was told she could not come back home until she got rid of the baby and promised to stop making moves on her step daddy.

She's just a kid. I thought my mother was bad. I guess it is true, you can always have it worse.

Meanwhile her step daddy visits her every month here bring her gifts and chocolates and flowers. The women who runs this place never leaves them alone. She never told them who the daddy to the baby is. She only told me. But those women don't trust that guy.

I never leave her alone with him with her either. She just turned 12 the day before I got here. She is such a small girl yet. She has a shy smile, when she does smile. She hangs her head to the floor a lot. Sandra and Carol,the two women who run this house, always tell her to look up. She must always meet life straight in the eyes.

They are very protective of her. They always try to get them to tell who got her this way. Her mother told her never to tell. Her mother told her she would be taken away for ever. Put in jail for seducing a married woman's husband. That her reputation would be ruined forever and she never would be able to get a good husband.

I treat her like a little sister. She responds well to me. I tell her they were all wrong. Sandra tells me that she never smiled before I got there. Sandra made us room mates. Sandra says I am good for Mary Jane. I call her Janey. I am the only one at first, then it caught on by her 8th month. I figured she needed a new name. A new identity . So she can start a new life. I have so many names, I know the power of them. They have changed over time. Each time it changes I have different power. Here I am introduced as Danni, but I teach them my name is really Dandelion. They call me that. After a while they shortened it to Lion, since I don't want Danni anymore.

Most of the girl's stories are the same as mine. We thought we were in love, we thought the boy loved us, we were sent away as to save the family shame. Janey is the only girl with such a sad story. The girls will talk about how betrayed we felt by the boy and our own families.

When mothers come to visit the shame they feel over their daughters oozes from their pores. They always talk about the future for their daughters after this "time is over". Like a prison term that will never be talked about again. They are in such a single minded focus they never notice their daughter's bellies nor the realization that the babies inside are genetically tied to them, never thinking this is their grandchildren.

I am never visited. I prefer it this way. To live though visits like this is hell for everyone involved and make the girls feel crap for days. One order up: one large heap of shame.

Sandra and Carol feel sorry for me, knowing I am not visited and will not be visited. They try to spend extra time with me. They take me places, like when they are going shopping, they will take me just to get me out of the house.

"Ha ha ha, I love how you put us in the story as if we are part of it and you are not telling it to us."

"Carol, It is just her style of story telling." Sandra said back to Carol.

"We knew about Mary Jane, sweetie." Sandra said to me.

"I thought you might." I replied

"That's why we made you her roommate. You understood her. She trusted you. She needed to talk to someone and she wasn't talking to us. Nor did she talk to the counselor that comes by once a week for you girls." Sandra said to me.

"So why didn't you do anything about it? Why didn't you save her? Why did you let him come up here? Why didn't you stop her from going back?"

"She wouldn't ask for our help." Carol said with sadness in her eyes. "Unless girls like that ask us for help we can not do anything. If they ask, trust me, we help them. But not in a way the parents know it was us. If parents thought we would help the girls the way we do, they would never send them here."

"Let the girl finish" Sandra said.

Well I would have the long talks in the middle of the night with Janey. She would tell me about her step pa, what he done. How she doesn't hate him, how she blames herself somehow.

"Honey, you know", as I move my ever grown belly to the sideas I turn in my bed "You are just a child. He is a grown assed man. What you really need to do is get a gun and stop him before he comes into your little sisters ' beds."

"He would never! He said I was special! He said I was prettier than mama and all the other girls."

She had the look in her eyes of a girl in love. The blinded in the head lights look. "Honey how old were you when he first came to your bed?"

"It was right after my 9th birthday. He said I was becoming a woman now. He said I needed to know what it meant to be a woman. He was kind and gentle. He said he had to be careful. He said he loved me most of all."

Headlights are on high.

"How old is your sisters now?"

"Oh, let's see, Jenny, she is 7 and Carrie just turned nine...." She trailed off there on the last word. I think she realized he has not come around since she has turned 9, the sick bastard. She turned away from me, I could see she had a tear streaming down her cheek. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Lion. I am tired. My time is soon. He will come to see our baby, I know he will."

Oh she was right about her time. The very next day her waters broke. She was in such pain. Sandra and Carol had me go with her. Now I was truly frightened. She screamed so much like she was being ripped in two.

A nurse saw how horrified I looked, placed her hand on my shoulder "Honey, this pain you forget. Nature makes it that way, otherwise no woman would have more than one baby. Remember that when it is your time. This pain is just temporary and it brings forth great joy in a new life."

Finally after 24 hours of this screaming they took her into the operation room. The doctors said she was too young to deliver naturally.

Now she will be scared outside as well as in forever.

Later the baby was brought out and put in the nursery. I went to look. He was so perfect. So squishy. So red and crying at times. No-one picked him up.

It scared me so , everything scared me so. The idea of a baby and the reality of a baby are a million different things. The reality of giving birth. The pain. I thought the pain of being rejected was bad, broke my heart, the death of Moses, but this. Oh my good God, why did you hate Eve so much to give her pain and leave Adam with the pleasure?

I ran to Janey's room.

"Janey, ask them for your son! No-one is picking him up and he is crying" All the adults in the room looked at me in a way they did not want to say to me what was to be said.

I say to a nurse "GET THE BABY!". She turned away from me.

"Sandra! Have them get Janey her baby." I am now very emotional.

"Lion!" Janey spoke." It is not my baby. It's real mother will come soon. they have been called. Don't talk about it again."

My mouth dropped. Before I could close it to give her more than a piece of my mind I was ushered out of the room by Sandra.

"This is what the girls are here for, Lion! Didn't you get that point when you never saw them with their babies afterwards? When their mothers come? Your turn will come in a few months. Say your goodbyes to Mary Jane. Her mother will come for her in two weeks, she is not coming back to us. It is what she wants." Sandra said.

"But how can she not even want to see her child!? How can she want to go back to them?"

"You say anything but goodbye and we will pull you out of the room quicker than you can say your next word. THIS was her choice. We can not make other people's choices for them. You will make your own choice when the time comes and in the end it will be your choice and no-one in my house would have MADE you make one. AM I understood? "

"Yes, mam" I said as I headed back in to the room.

I went over and gentilly hugged Janey. "Janey, write me, call me, you know where I am. This doesn't have to be a forever goodbye. "

"I know," She said "Carol told me she would forward the letters to you anywhere you areas long as you give them the address. I will be fine." She smiled and I left the room.

I passed the nursery. A couple were picking up her son. They were smiling. the man looked nervous. They looked well off enough. They looked nice enough. I hope he will be happy and safe. I hope he will be safer than his mother.

"Time passed and here I am telling you two the story. I wonder about Janey almost every night"

"Oh, I think she'll be o.k. I heard there was an accident down there in Louisiana."

"What kind of accident?"

"A gun accident. It seems Janey got a gun, what did her daddy do? That is buried with him. She sent a obit for one Allen Roberts. I believe that have her Daddy's name." Carol handed me an obituary from a letter.

"Why didn't you give this to me to me?"

"I just did , child. It came today. Mail time is after supper, you know that."

Allen Roberts died in a hunting accident while taking his oldest daughters on a hunting trip in the bayou. He leaved behind a loving wife and 4 daughters.

Dame I didn't think she would do it. I wonder if she regrets giving away her son now. Or if she is happy never to be reminded of what he did. I wonder if she can ever forget. I wonder if her mother treats her better now. Some endings give you more questions than answers. I smile as I hand it back.

"Don't get joy in murder,dear, it doesn't become you."Sandra scolded.

"Sometimes you two just seem so familiar to me. like I have know you all my life." I said.

"You have a good memory, Lion, Danni, Butterfly, Emma, what ever your name is this week." Sandra laughed.

"You got Emma of those off my birth certificate."

"No, it was what the man who was holding you when we first met you called you."

Now I stopped smiling. No-one called me that since, I almost forgot about oldest father. Not since the beginning of the story had I thought about him, and I started telling them the story about a month after I got here. Now my time is almost here. I smile a nostalgic smile.

What makes a man?

Is he a good provider, a good father, a good lover, makes you smile when you can't find the light for the dark forest? Does he have a kind voice, a scary voice? Is he big and bad? Is that a man? Will be beat someone up for you, will he hold your hand when you are scared? How much of what we think is a man come from our fathers? And most of what I think a man is came from oldest father. I didn't expect too much from Miles but I thought he loved me. Until he denied the truth. Oldest father never denied any of the woman he loved or had sex with. He would always hold your hand and always respected the woman's choice, even if thought it should be another choice. And I do believe he loved me. Miles didn't live up to my definition of a man.

It is funny how one word will make you think of things so unrelated.

I shook off my thoughts.

"When you first meet me?"

"Yes, let's see." Sandra got up from the living room chair to a file cabinet made of wood, she took out a file. She sat back down. Opened the file and took out a picture and handed it to me. "That was at Woodstock."

It was me on top of oldest father's shoulders. I had forgotten what he looked like. He was a feeling. He was eyes, he was a beard, he was big hands. He was not fully put together. This was the first time I had seen what he looked like in over a decade. And me, was that me, there is the butterfly on the little girl's face. The scar that goes from her nose to her lip. That is me. I stare a long time. Time has passed so far so long. And my mother. She was only a little older than I am now in this picture. She was so pretty. I have her hands. Her eyes.

"Your mother is the reason you are here." Sandra said

"Oh great she wanted to get rid of her shame too"

"Well, Your grandparents wouldn't have known of us, if she hadn't suggested it. They told her about you condition and that they wanted her to take you until you had the baby."

"...and there was no way she was going to have me ruin her happy little perfect home and family."

"She's not as bed as you would like her to believe. There is no denying she was not the best mother to you. She was your age when she had you. She didn't know how to take care of you. She didn't even know how to take care of herself. Believe it or not, she was one of the lucky ones back than. Not all girls who went out to California found the safety of other young people and the summer of love. She was young, like you. But she didn't have your experience. She didn't have your strength. She was not you."

" So she wants me to get rid of my baby, too."

"She wanted you to be some place safe. Some place people were not going to judge you. She wanted you to have your own will." Carol chimed in.

"Here, " Sandra pulled a letter out of the file. "read this."

They left the room.

I looked at the envelope for a bit before opening it. Throwing it away at times, as if I was rejecting her. But she would never know it. Does no good to reject people unless it is to their faces otherwise it is called moving on.

I opened it. No I am not going to tell you what it said. A lot of sentimental dribble I was not falling for. The basic gist was: I was your age. You were never a mistake. I wanted you to have the choices you deserve. And depending on your choice it might be time you don't go back to my parents. Live your life.

I folded it away.

My baby kicked.

"It's alright, it was just your grandmother or aunt as she likes to call herself."

music

2009-06-04T20:50:00.003-04:00

Though I only have a few readers for this story, I am grateful for their feedback.

I have just realized by the end of this month I would have been writing it for 6 months. So my goal will be to finish it up by then, I hope the ride has been fun.

I always loved this song when I was a child.

Ugly p19

2009-06-03T22:17:00.009-04:00

Saturday came and went.

And as I have said before "this isn't porn movie" You don't get to hear all those details of teenage sex.

Here's some songs that reminded me of that summer.

Looking back I remember, I remember, It was never at my place, it was only at his when no-one else was around, mostly it was in the fields and it was always a secret.

It kept me busy that summer.

He even said he loved me once. I remember he said it more than once that day.

" What were you doing at the time?"

"Hah, where was his penis."

"Shush. Don't be rude."

"Isn't rude, it's reality. Answer child."

'Let me think. I was, oh, I remember, in my mouth. But he picked my head up and said it again. Than I finished.'

"Never believe them when their little head wants something from you or is in you some way."

"Leave the girl alone and let her finish. And stop being so crude!"

Summer ended, so did the many days we spent together. I was not feeling so well. Had a flu or something. Or so I thought. By the time end of October was coming around, Granny brought me to the doctors.

The day that I found Moses dead. Halloween. 2 years had passed. Granny took me back to the doctors. I was a bit scared.I had been sick for a so long. Now I can't keep anything down. In between throwing up I spent my time wanting to throw up. My body hurt. My breasts, my stomach was getting hard. All I could think of was I had cancer. Maybe it is my turn.

The doctor sat us down in his office and brought out his file on me. I was nervous and nauseous all at the same time. Granny was stoic.

"Hello, Danni, Mrs Smith." He said shaking our hands.

" I called you here to discuss Danni's condition."

He called it a condition, that is not good.

"How long do I have? " I blurted out.

"About 6 months I would say." He replied mater a factly while looking at his files.

Granny shock her head. She looked upset. "How could you do this to us?" She said

"US?! It's happening to me!"

"Now ladies! This can be dealt with."

Dealt with. Dealt with. Easy for him to say. He wasn't dying in 6 month.

I threw up in his waste bucket.

I will spend 6 months trowing up than I die.

"I am so sorry Doc." Granny said

Why is she apologizing to him, I just got handed a death sentence, he should expect a little barf.

"Well, it happens, that is why God made liners. "

"Who is he?!" Granny yelled at me.

"Mrs Smith, it is best handled gently."

"Gently! Gently my behind, this boy is going to pay for what he's done."

"What are you talking about?"

"Mrs Smith, it's not the end of the world. There are ways to handle it. She is young and she will grow up and have many more chances to have a family. I suspect no-one knows yet."

"What? I am dying and you are saying it's not the end of the world!"

"Danni, young women have survived having babies without dying for some time now."

Baby.

"Who is he, child. If you don't tell me, I will beat it out of you!"

Baby.

"Mrs. Smith! It really doesn't go far. Threatening a pregnant girl."

Baby.

" I need to know who this degenerate is that did this, doc."

BABY!

The room started spinning, my ears started hearing a high pitched hum, and everything went dark purple coming to the center. I couldn't breath. I felt cold as death.

I woke up on the examination table with smelly stuff being waved under my nose. It smelt like laundry day.

"Danni. Welcome back." the doc said.

"Don't think fainting is going to get you out of telling me. I had 10 youngins, this ain't nothing new to me."

"Miles" I said.

"But you can't tell no-body, it's a secret."

"You foolish girl! I bet he even said he loved you too."

With that I gave up my fight to stay conscious and went back in the black again.

Time stops for a while.

Time did stop.

I am the same age my mother was when she was pregnant with me.

I was not going to do this.

I was not going to be stuck here all my life.

This is not my life.

The sex wasn't even good.

Not even being experienced, I could tell that. The girls on the commune looked like they enjoyed it far more. I think I remembered that. They were having fun. The potential was there. That's why I always came back for more. But potential never fulfilled is one frustrating monster that tears at you and begs you to come back for more.

A few days later Grandmother and Grandfather took me to Miles' farm. I was looking down. His mother invited us into the parlor. Sh served us lemonade and scones. My grandmother got right to the point rather quick. His mother denied it saying that she only saw me once.

It went around lie that each round getting nastier and nastier.

Her son what this, their granddaughter was that.

Finally she called Miles into the room and asked him if he had laid with me.

"No, Ma, she she's not my type." he said.

He denied me.

He denied us.

He denied our baby.

I cried. Uncontrollably.

Never wounded so deeply. Maybe it was just the hormones. It is the worst thing you can do to a woman.

He looked towards the crowd.

His mother slapped him across the face.

"How dare you lie! About this. About her."

"Ma, I'm sorry, I was just fooling around, it meant nothing. She meant..."

This time it was my hand who slapped him. Tears running down my face.

He ran out of the room.

His mother went to her purse, took out some money. Handed it to me.

"You are both too young. Here you go. Start over. If you have any sense you will stay away from my son. I am sure you are a good girl."

I looked at the money. I didn't it.

My grand mother was angry. " We are Christians! We don't do that sort of thing! We respect life." She grabbed the money and threw it at her.

"It is her decision, not yours! It is her life, not yours! Think of your grandchild!"

"I am thinking of my great grand child. Jesus' gift!"

With that she told Grandfather and I to leave and we walked towards the door.

I rushed back, I picked the money off the floor and stuffed it in my pocket before the grandparents could see.

I didn't understand what they were going on about until i heard my grandparents discussing "that woman who wanted her to kill the baby. We give it away to a good christian couple who can't have babies like descent folk."

Grandfather said "It is best she doesn't have it around here. Best she doesn't get attached. Best she can't see it afterwards, she may want to take it back."

I get it,the $500 was for an abortion. The women had them in the commune when they don't want to be others or didn't want to have too many children.

I didn't think about it. I didn't want to think about it.

All I could think about was Miles denying me, denying us.Oh Jesus, I am an US. And no-one is happy about it. Babies are suppose to bring joy. Love. Laughter. Happiness. Someone was suppose to be happy.

I should have left him. I should not have gone back that Saturday. But when you pray for something and God gives it to you, should you deny the gifts he gives? Would he got angry at me for being so ungrateful? Was I not grateful enough? Was I being punished for it?

Why the hell wasn't Miles punished for it?

Did God really love Adam more? Did he really hate Eve for her curiosity?

Maybe there is no god and no sin, but what we do we must be accountable to ourselves? No Devils to blame. To God to praise.

He denied US.He denied the love he said he had.

The next week my bags were packed.

My grandmother went to Miles farm with some papers. I stayed in the truck. Miles and him mother signed the papers and she placed them into my suitcase.

My grandfather drove me up north and over to the east. It was a very long drive. It took days.

This old Victorian in the middle of the woods. It is yellow, faded yellow. Pale yellow. A large porch with a few swings. We went up to the door. Grandfather placed my bags and my guitar in front of me and rang the bell.

The door opened. A woman in her forties answered the door. She had a big old smile on her face. "Hi , I am Sandra. "

"This here is Danni. We talked on the phone." He handed her an envelope with cash and a piece of paper. "There should be everything we agreed upon. Her birth certificate and contact numbers when the deed is done, too. Call me when she is ready to be picked up."

He walked away.

He didn't even say goodbye to me.

He drove away and didn't look back.

I am alone.

I am alone in Vermont on a pale yellow porch.

Musical Interlude

2009-06-02T23:35:00.002-04:00

What is amour without this song.

Now for the original, for us older folks who remember the guy who sang it was not a pretty boy. Honestly, I did not mind watching the pretty by at all. But the original was song by a married couple.

We all know the words in English. Sexier in French. I always saw this is a teen love anthem. I know it was for me one or twice.

Ugly p18

2009-05-30T10:21:00.003-04:00

Intoxication.

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.

"Fine."

"Do your homework."

"Did it already, on the bus."

"Really?"

"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!"

"Yeah."

"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."

"Yup."

"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.

musical biscuit

2009-05-27T19:17:00.002-04:00

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.

Ugly 17

2009-05-26T21:02:00.002-04:00

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.
Yeah!

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

Ugly 16

2009-05-23T13:20:00.001-04:00

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?"

Ugly 15

2009-05-22T09:15:00.004-04:00

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.

Wait....

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

video interlude

2009-05-20T21:18:00.002-04:00

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.

Ugly p14

2009-05-16T08:39:00.005-04:00

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.

"Anything."

"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.

Ugly p13

2009-05-11T11:27:00.000-04:00

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.