jesus' favorite

pop

room for change, originally uploaded by nardell.

You know you're in Detroit when you see pop machines and shitty buildings.

So there's that.

proud

When we were in high school I would make my younger sister come with me to 6:30am aerobics class M, W, F. This was the late 80s when dexatrim and Jane Fonda were Catholic girl buzz words. Don't judge.

It was Michigan winter. Cold. Damp. Horrid. I was her ride to school so I'd make her stay in the car covered in sleeping bags while I jumping jacked my way out of low self-esteem. It was unfair and mean but I was bossy and determined-and high on sugar-free gumballs so...

Soon after, life got messy and we spent time apart, living with different parents. Times that I often think, if we had each other in proximity, may have helped the 'blow' of 'em. But alas, we both learned to deflect, journal, and find comfort in Tori Amos...so I guess it worked for something.

There was always a magic between us. A non spoken one. A magic that existed in the arts. So today, when I stumbled upon this, I couldn't help but point whoever reads this blog to it. (As some of you may remember she used to blog). Anyway, I couldn't be more proud of what she's doing and how many young lives she's impacting. Or old, in my case. (and to think...the younger sis still plugs the older one after the aerobic debacle of 89).

She is a rare gift. A true spirit. A selfless artist who gives so much.
So go to it.

Elbow and miss you Stef.

PSA

Hi California.

I'm here to let you know that if you live here and believe the 'hands-free' ticket is only like $20 bucks, and then maybe more for the second...and so on....then you're a SUCKER!!!!!!

It's a full on rumor.

Why do I know? Well....

INT: Hot car.

SFX: Undisclosed Ring tone that would give away my guilty pleasure.

Look at caller ID. Knee jerk pick up.

Me: 'Hey you!'

Beat.

Me: 'Wanna do...'

SFX: Siren

Me: 'Oh shit...'

Chuck phone across to passenger seat. (Finally the fact my phone is from 1980 comes in handy).

Me: 'Oh man Officer! I totally forgot...'

Cut to: 10 minutes later.

$93 buck ticket and pure police man pleasure all over my face.

Blackout

So yeah, whoever started that $20 rumor should go with the one that hypodermic needles are in phone booth change slots.

In hindsight, I guess I could have said..'Oh! I wasn't talking to anyone. Yeah, see, I was just holding it and umm...pretending.' I mean his word against mine, right?

But then I would sound crazy. And get a crazy ticket.

Elbow and Send.

---
(One 'cut to' in there for you, Shanks). (I expect one back in comments).

early

If you've followed any part of this blogitty blog blog, you've been forced to hear about my sleep patterns. Late nights. Early nights. Mind racers. Whatever. So today, rather than wrestle sheets, I got up and I watched the sunrise. Nothing like a Hawaii one from my quaint little pad, but enough to see light. Literally it's like taking an emotional shower. A new breath. A new day. A new opportunity to not be a dick.

My brother got jumped last weekend. A fit ex-football player full of spit fire and goodness, got hand selected by a senseless act of violence in the downtown area of his hometown. Prodded by one, then shit kicked by a group. It's maddening and confusing. You can know all the details and yet, bottom line, gang violence is gang violence. And yes, it was a gang. Who GETS to do it. Because they can. He's ok. And luckily there were no knives or guns, or else this would be a different post that I'm not ready for. I think about my social work days and the gang-training seminars I attended and the ...'if they ask where you're from you say...Nowhere.' Fuck that. None of that works. If they wanna find a fight, they will. So it makes me hate. And makes me mad. And in this world, I don't have time for it.

So, in the words of creepy Ms. Dion, 'a new day.' I'm off to the gym to kick the shit out of a treadmill.