Wednesday, April 22, 2009
things i need to get through
i think if things at nite - when i am struggling to go to sleep. i don't like to really talk to anyone about them, because i am working on getting over them and living my happy life with my love. sometimes the things the x has said to me come creeping back and start rotting my brain. as we know, everyone says awful things while in the midst of a break up. one of the many awful things the x said was regarding the gifts i had given him over the years, or the lack thereof. he brought up how he would shower me with birthday or christmas presents when he could (the few time he was working) because he couldn't pull his weight throughout the rest of the year and help pay his 1/2 of the bills. and how once, perhaps more than once (i am happy to no longer remember) that i did not get him a gift for his birthday and felt bad. i did however, end up spending hundreds of dollars to set up a birthday party at the house. we went to las vegas for valentine's day one year, on my dime, we went to coachella 6 years in a row, the tix were free but the food, hotel, gas, drugs - paid for by me. we went to santa barbra, san diego, san francisco, las vegas for new years - all paid for by me, because i was the only one ever working all of the time. we always had food, cable, phone, clothes, air conditioning, music, concerts, movies, dinners, we did almost anything and everything he wanted to do. i want this SHIT to be out of my head! i want to stop feeling like i was not good to him. how dare he!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
We're All Zombies
Way back when – late 80s - I was still planning on an illustrious career in radio broadcasting. My best friend and I had our weekly radio show on a station that was broadcast from a local high school, supported by the county school board.
Also, at the same time, I was experimenting with drugs, going out dancing with friends and basically being a “club kid” before they knew what the term meant. (Michael Alig was probably still in middle school) We dressed outrageously, wore lots of make-up, ran around in a pack, and did our best to stand out and dared anyone NOT to notice. All the while, high as kites, pretending the no one knew we were high.
One of the local news stations took notice of this “scene” that was burgeoning in south florida – and yes – I am quite aware how the terms “scene” and “south florida” in the same sentence contradicts. They called their 20 minute segment (spread over 3 days) “Desperately Seeking Difference.” And of course, as any obtuse local news station is likely to do, the combined “thrash metal” (Metallica) and “punk rock” (yeah, right) together in an attempt to “define”. We listened to neither. The clubs we went to and the music we listened to was more dance oriented. We were getting into house music from the UK, Belgium and Chicago – it was dance music, just a little more aggressive, dark, and edgy, for lack of a better word. Finitribe, Clan of Xymox, Ganzeiht, Lords Of Acid, etc. – it was the early days of the acid house scene – way before anybody knew who the Prodigy was.
They brought their bright lights and TV cameras to Fire and Ice one night – filming and interviewing anyone dumb enough or desperate enough for the attention. We had no interest, even though we were probably what the expose should have been about. We avoided the lights and cameras – knowing it was a better idea to not get caught in the spotlight – all wide-eyed.“ZOLT” this Russian fashion designer with blue hair GRABS me (as we were most likely walking to the car to smoke more pot) and says – “come do an interview with me!”
So I’m rolling! Pretty hard, and I’m sure very obviously – and the jerk conducting the interview is talking to Zolt – asking him what it’s all about. My friends were off to the side – shouting and jeering at me, making fun. News guy puts the microphone in my face and asks my what my look was all about. (chain from nose to ear, purple hair, shredded dress, my just crawled out of the grave look, no doubt) To which my cheeky response was:
“We’re All Zombies!”
Then I went on to try to complete a thought about the music and the scene and how it’s not all that aggressive and so on – I can’t remember and I’m certain it was quite incoherent.
The only thing that made it on the air was me – hanging on Zolt’s arm (ok, maybe he was holding me up) saying “We’re All Zombies.” It was used as a BUMPER for the expose only and probably only aired twice! With the question preceeding” How do these kids see themselves” cut to me: “We’re All Zombies.”
Well, somehow, someone found out about it at the radio station and I got suspended. I had to take my case to the VP of the high school’s PTA. She sympathized, said she also felt I was misrepresented; however she would have to take it to the board to get me back on the air.
Weeks go by and I finally get on the phone with the assistant operations manager for the radio station. I was asking him what the problem was, when and if I could get back on air, how much I enjoyed it and so on. Then he says “you see, there’s a certain image we want to portray with the radio station”.
Wait a minute.
“did you just say I’m being kicked off the air for my image?!” I asked.
“Yeah, well, no, that’s not what I mean.” He backpedaled.
And there ended my career in radio.
CUT TO 1992. One of my all time favorite acts, Meat Beat Manifesto (don’t laugh – Jack Dangers is genius) comes out with an album called Satyricon. At the show, I’m looking at T-shirts to buy…which one did I get? The one that says “I AM A ZOMBIE”
Life in serendipitous sometimes, isn’t it?
Anyway – that’s my zombie story.
Also, at the same time, I was experimenting with drugs, going out dancing with friends and basically being a “club kid” before they knew what the term meant. (Michael Alig was probably still in middle school) We dressed outrageously, wore lots of make-up, ran around in a pack, and did our best to stand out and dared anyone NOT to notice. All the while, high as kites, pretending the no one knew we were high.
One of the local news stations took notice of this “scene” that was burgeoning in south florida – and yes – I am quite aware how the terms “scene” and “south florida” in the same sentence contradicts. They called their 20 minute segment (spread over 3 days) “Desperately Seeking Difference.” And of course, as any obtuse local news station is likely to do, the combined “thrash metal” (Metallica) and “punk rock” (yeah, right) together in an attempt to “define”. We listened to neither. The clubs we went to and the music we listened to was more dance oriented. We were getting into house music from the UK, Belgium and Chicago – it was dance music, just a little more aggressive, dark, and edgy, for lack of a better word. Finitribe, Clan of Xymox, Ganzeiht, Lords Of Acid, etc. – it was the early days of the acid house scene – way before anybody knew who the Prodigy was.
They brought their bright lights and TV cameras to Fire and Ice one night – filming and interviewing anyone dumb enough or desperate enough for the attention. We had no interest, even though we were probably what the expose should have been about. We avoided the lights and cameras – knowing it was a better idea to not get caught in the spotlight – all wide-eyed.“ZOLT” this Russian fashion designer with blue hair GRABS me (as we were most likely walking to the car to smoke more pot) and says – “come do an interview with me!”
So I’m rolling! Pretty hard, and I’m sure very obviously – and the jerk conducting the interview is talking to Zolt – asking him what it’s all about. My friends were off to the side – shouting and jeering at me, making fun. News guy puts the microphone in my face and asks my what my look was all about. (chain from nose to ear, purple hair, shredded dress, my just crawled out of the grave look, no doubt) To which my cheeky response was:
“We’re All Zombies!”
Then I went on to try to complete a thought about the music and the scene and how it’s not all that aggressive and so on – I can’t remember and I’m certain it was quite incoherent.
The only thing that made it on the air was me – hanging on Zolt’s arm (ok, maybe he was holding me up) saying “We’re All Zombies.” It was used as a BUMPER for the expose only and probably only aired twice! With the question preceeding” How do these kids see themselves” cut to me: “We’re All Zombies.”
Well, somehow, someone found out about it at the radio station and I got suspended. I had to take my case to the VP of the high school’s PTA. She sympathized, said she also felt I was misrepresented; however she would have to take it to the board to get me back on the air.
Weeks go by and I finally get on the phone with the assistant operations manager for the radio station. I was asking him what the problem was, when and if I could get back on air, how much I enjoyed it and so on. Then he says “you see, there’s a certain image we want to portray with the radio station”.
Wait a minute.
“did you just say I’m being kicked off the air for my image?!” I asked.
“Yeah, well, no, that’s not what I mean.” He backpedaled.
And there ended my career in radio.
CUT TO 1992. One of my all time favorite acts, Meat Beat Manifesto (don’t laugh – Jack Dangers is genius) comes out with an album called Satyricon. At the show, I’m looking at T-shirts to buy…which one did I get? The one that says “I AM A ZOMBIE”
Life in serendipitous sometimes, isn’t it?
Anyway – that’s my zombie story.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
it's been a while, sorry
On September 6, 2007 an African Grey parrot named Alex dies prematurely at age thirty-one. His last words to his owner, Irene Pepperberg, were "You Be Good. I Love you." from Alex and Me.
I read this line over again and again and it still makes me cry. I'm reading the book now about the amazin things this parrot was able to do. I looked up a video on youtube and was even more devastated by the way the parrot looked and some of the comments that were posted. One person posted that it was all a hoax - that the parrot was simply trained to mimic responses based on cues from the trainer. alex was also under some kind of duress - as he had obviosly been plucking his feathers out. but i haven't finished the book - maybe the author/trainer/scientist addresses.
it breaks my heart in every way imaginable to think or know that this animal had a conciousness. that he actually felt for and was able to express to his owner how he felt. what tears me up about the story is that the owner/trainer/scientist struggled to maintain a scientist/subject relationship with the creature. perhaps that is why he was distressed enough to pull his feathers? because he knew his person didn't really care for him in any other way except as a test subject? maybe it was the day in day out of training, being asked the same questions over and over again to prove a scientific theory that lead the animal to be so stressed that he pulled his feathers?
while it is important to learn and understand how animals communicate and what level they may or may not comprehend and communicate emotions - the scientific approach, no matter how liberal (esp in this case, according to the scientist) is still cruel and unusual. furthermore, it's a shame that we need scientific validation in order to even come close to treating non-human animals with dignity ans respect. even with all the evidence, proof, scientific research, study and evidence that proves animals have a cognitive, emotional method of communication, it doesn't change the way we as a species treat others, does it.
i don't know where i belong in this world sometimes.
I read this line over again and again and it still makes me cry. I'm reading the book now about the amazin things this parrot was able to do. I looked up a video on youtube and was even more devastated by the way the parrot looked and some of the comments that were posted. One person posted that it was all a hoax - that the parrot was simply trained to mimic responses based on cues from the trainer. alex was also under some kind of duress - as he had obviosly been plucking his feathers out. but i haven't finished the book - maybe the author/trainer/scientist addresses.
it breaks my heart in every way imaginable to think or know that this animal had a conciousness. that he actually felt for and was able to express to his owner how he felt. what tears me up about the story is that the owner/trainer/scientist struggled to maintain a scientist/subject relationship with the creature. perhaps that is why he was distressed enough to pull his feathers? because he knew his person didn't really care for him in any other way except as a test subject? maybe it was the day in day out of training, being asked the same questions over and over again to prove a scientific theory that lead the animal to be so stressed that he pulled his feathers?
while it is important to learn and understand how animals communicate and what level they may or may not comprehend and communicate emotions - the scientific approach, no matter how liberal (esp in this case, according to the scientist) is still cruel and unusual. furthermore, it's a shame that we need scientific validation in order to even come close to treating non-human animals with dignity ans respect. even with all the evidence, proof, scientific research, study and evidence that proves animals have a cognitive, emotional method of communication, it doesn't change the way we as a species treat others, does it.
i don't know where i belong in this world sometimes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
