Rear View Mirror

It was neither clean, nor pretty, but it’s done. At least it was over the phone and that made it a great deal easier, but I won’t be surprised by an unannounced visit from her tonight or tomorrow. That’s what she’s done in the past when I’ve tried to end it. But this time it’s for real and it’s done.

Now some Pearl Jam to start the drinking with, I’m still out of pills and can’t get a refill until Monday, but a “supplemental” supply will make their way to me in the early afternoon tomorrow.

Now that song as I enjoy the feeling of being truly unattached.

“Heaven Sent”

I didn’t allow myself to let the alcohol take over tonight and I called Amber and told her I wasn’t feeling good and was just going to bed. A lie, but it bought me some time, ’till tomorrow. She called a few minutes ago to tell me good night as she went to bed. I pulled out a groggy half asleep voice and played as though she woke me from my sleep. Sometimes it’s good to let the inner thespian take over for a few moments. It’s much easier to look at it like that than just admitting to yourself you just lied to a woman who has been a major part of your life. About a year now, off and on, mostly on.

So much has been turned upside down and uprooted in this last year and she was her with me through it all. And is willing to stick with me. If we could just slip away from the damaging and dangerous drama, plus both of our families, we’d be alright I think. But we both tend to lean toward the dramatic and I have a tendencies to be a “shit magnet”. If there is an F-ed up situation within ten miles, somehow I seem to be peripherally involved. It makes for good conversation and good material to draw on for writing projects, but other than that, it is starting to suck.

Anyway, back to my current dilemma. What to do about Amber? I love her, she can be very fun, we can talk for hours on end, and physically, we are extremely compatible. But when she gets pissed, it’s not so pretty. She knows how to rip my heart out with a word and she’s overly possessive of me. And when she does on of her flips, I just step further away from her, to the point now that I’m lying to avoid her tonight. Something big has to happen or I can’t do it anymore.

Now, one of the many tunes I listening to tonight (technically early morning) HeavenSent, by Dokken.

Burn

Though I truly long for her touch and the taste of her kiss and the ecstasy of our bodies merging as one, I have decided it’s best to just stay away this time. I haven’t seen her in a little more than a week and it has to stay that way. We’ve talked a fair amount on the phone and we’re supposed to get together late, late tonight once she through selling her labor to the evil capitalist machine.

I’m not too sure how I’m going to go about it. My track record with her is that I cave and make it harder to end. I’ve been trying to end off and on for three months now, but it all flies out the window when I see her. She is honestly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known and well, she has the body to go with it. And she knows how to use that body and those eyes to make me give in every time so far.

So how am I going to solve this dilemma? Start drinking a little early, I’d add in some pain pills but I’m out. The vodka and Budweiser will work though and when I see her  late tonight, I probably won’t be able to get past that sexy lure she has and maybe I won’t regret it in the morning.

For now, here’s a song by The Cure, Burn, from The Crow.

“Save A Prayer”

I reluctantly agreed to go back to Shitsville Oklahoma for another week tomorrow. Amber is mad at me for it, but she’s still coming over after she’s out of  her shit hole convenient store job and a change of cloths.

So tonight I have to breathe in enough of the scent of her gorgeous red hair, and savor enough of the taste of her body to last me a week. I’ve  sworn her off so many times, but I just can’t resist, and she’s honest and faithful and a size 4 and absolutely beautiful, plus ten years younger than me, which works quite well with my whole Peter Pan personality.

My family has quite the distaste for her. One because of the lifestyle the two of us live and two for the militant Irish leftist politics of her father. He almost talked us into moving to Belfast a few months back.

Anyway, she should be here any minute so time for a song of love. Duran Duran, Save A Prayer.

Love and a song named “Hero”

Oh yikes, I did it again. My gorgeous Irish gal arrived here tonight with apologies and a poem she wrote for me and I caved yet again. The last time we saw each other, she smacked me in the face and I told her never to come back. She was knocking on the door Sunday night and I played asleep, but tonight, different story. I can’t help it. I love that redheaded woman of mine, no matter what. And she apparently loves me too, fairly unconditionally.

She’s gone back to her place to feed her dog then she’s coming back here. Our personalities sometimes clash pretty bad, but Amber could have pretty much any guy she wanted and she apparently has chosen me.

Today is her birthday and I had no present because we were broken up, so after she headed back to feed the dog, I made her a rose bud out of aluminum foil. She’ll get it when she gets back.

For a Cancer, she is very fiery, she must have some Leo or Aries pretty strong in her birth chart. I’m a Scorpio with a moon in Scorpio too, so her fire governed by Cancer emotions mixed with my moody  heavy Scorpio passion can get volatile, and the words, like bolts from a bow, can be fired with dangerous precision. But I love her, like no other.

It’s her birthday and we have been broke up for a few weeks and she has chosen to spend it with me. That means something to me and it strums an emotional chord deep within me. Like I’ve mentioned, she’s not hurting for guys to ask her out, she’s gorgeous and fun, but she has chosen me. That means more than I can say. And I will forget about the slap in the face. She’s never been physically violent before and neither have I, so I’ll treat it as a desperate measure in a rough time.

She should be back fairly soon I think, so I should wrap this up. I’ll add a song for the moment and night that both Amber and I love. The video is very cool too with Mickey Rourke. Enrique Iglesias, Hero.

A song named “Trust” with a few rambling words.

My music playing is finished for the night. The grain spirits have cursed my with slipping coordination on my more complex music, whether it by guitar or piano. Actually, after the numbness of alcohol and hydrocodone, with some psychotropic, shrink drugs thrown in mellows enough to get my fingers back to 95%, rather 80%, it’ll be the best time to write. connected with my emotions and free to do with them as I will. And I chose to throw them into music.

Again, I’m listening to the playback of some of my piano work. Keyboard is the easiest to record, my Yamaha will save hours of music I write, then I plug it into the recorder and it’s done. I wish the bass and guitar were that easy. I have the settings for recording direct from the keyboard down, so all I have to do is push record. With the axe and bass, there’s a microphone, amp volume, trim and a whole lot of other shit to get just right. Somehow, with my keyboard, I’ve found a near perfect setting, but with the axe and bass it depends on a few things, because I use several different sound settings.

Anyway enough of my rattling on, it’s time to put someone else’s music up, Megadeth Trust. An excellent song for the inebriated and womanless by choice, especially as I deliberate smoking her bag of weed that she left over here. This song hits way too close to home with Amber and I and she will never step foot in my house again, even when I’m drunk.

Now that Dave Mustaine tune,

It Dies

Here’s a little poem that I found today, I had forgotten this one. It’s about a year old and has never made it out of my bed side journal, but I think it should see the light of day for others to read. It’s about the death of a 12 year relationship and marriage.

It Dies

Once the words all bleed away,

slowly, it dies.

A silent, contained fury seeps.

Then it dies,

with nothing more to say.

When The Night Comes Down.

I love having my music room and office in the same space. I can write on my scoundrelous abuse of literature, my poems, and man diary which some show up here Then swivel my chair from my desk to my keyboard, the musical kind that is, and escape there for a while. Or I can get off my ass and grab one of my guitars, my favored instrument, probably not the neighbors favorite though. If I have a mini fridge in here, I could live in this room, because if I get enough drinks out of that fridge, I’d have no problem “sleeping” on the floor.

Right now, I’m listening to the piano track on what is already one of my top five songs. I’ve got the bass line written, but not recorded. The guitar, there are three very distinct pieces that I have to either chose from or work into one with a lot of room. Lyrics? I got nothin’.

It’s time to nurse that drinking and pill popping problem again. So here’s some old school Judas Priest, When The Night Come Down. I’m going to see if I do drink enough to comfortably “sleep” on my music room/office floor. The result of a Friday night spent alone.

Green Eyed Demon.

A little poem about  witnessing jealousy as it plays out it’s dangerous course.

Green Eyed Demon

I recognized her reaction,

as one I’d watched once before,

turn and sour.

False face forward,

green eyes smiling,

green eyes lying,

as envy churns and devours.

A lie called love

Yikes, I just wrote probably my second best piece of music ever. And the neighbors have been hearing me develop it all day so far. It has a very deep bluesy piano piece and the guitar is a sometimes blisteringly fast fusion lead that keeps the soulfully sad mood that the piano creates.

It’s easy enough to record the piano, because my full size Yamaha keyboard  can save all my shit for me, but the guitar, that’s a pain to record. There’s a lot of button and nobs  involved, so it’s easier just to remember the feel of it and improvise.

Anyway, I think this is why no poetry has surfaced here. The creativity was fighting to explode on the piano and the axe was waiting to supplement it with some smokin’ but cool and soulful leads. It’s out now, so maybe some lyrics will come too. I’ve titled it A Lie Called Love.