azyah

she is waving her head back and forth in front of yelling in a special voice the words to 'old mac donald.' i love this.

great-great aunt lenore

at 94 years, (!) she is full of life and vitality. she smiles and greets me with an awesome hug and smile, my great great aunt lenore. she lives in the house that her and her husband built 60 years ago, situated on the big piece of land with a few cows and barns in tennessee. she has lived in the area her whole life, her and her nine siblings being born in a house right down the road.
she is the one second from the right, next to smiling me.

i hung out with her after everybody left, the house got quiet while azyah and my dad took their naps. we talked about everyday things, looked at old black and white pictures of my great grandfather who loved horses, cool cars, and boats. she gets up early and stays up late like i do. she thinks natural cures are the best for what ails her, so she doesn't take any prescription drugs, just one aspirin a day. she makes her own wine and vinegar from things that grow in the valley around where she lives, and each are very tasty! she has been making her own wine for many years, and i heard many stories about my great grandfather and his "wine."

on her land there are two old barns, i took some pictures...

... one of them was for hanging tobacco a long time ago, since then it has sort of been falling apart. makes for really good light shining through the wood angles though...

and all around it was indeed beautiful...

and the cows were chillin at home

coffee and keys, chocolate and cheese

coffee and keys, chocolate and cheese. i sit on my ass with my hands on my knees.

i love the random rhymes that escape my head while i work at the place that employs me currently. well, they pay me to hang out and make nice with all the people who come in and need money, it is my job to give out money in correct denominations. good times, good times.

so, to catch up with some weirdness that has been going on my life, all of you the few who read this know i love music. i turned this over in my head last night while listening to free form jazz, my ass flat against a floor of beautiful wood on the third floor of an old freemason lodge, my back against a wall below a window, mind wandering, wandering, wandering, watching the things that fly out of the poor instruments the guys were playing. lights up a little more than time the before. a woman walking around with a flash camera fucking it the whole time. yes, her dress was pretty and her shoes were smashing, but the flash every so often took a lot away from what was being presented in front of my head. these things happen. i just filed it along with the dull noise of hamilton avenue cars and drunken people laughing. a bass clarinet old saxophone sweet drum set crazy trumpet must take precedence. always, no questions or other roads fancied.

smashing.

i love listening to and experiencing artists creating art. yes, some people can't really hang with free formed jazz, i understand completely, but to appreciate what is being presented by letting it change your ways of thinking and let it in, this is sweetness. and always a greatness of times. to have one of those thoughts that alter the way you perceive, to have one of those times that change your mind, these can be found in experiences of letting random ratios of notes, beats and time in to visit your head.

thank you district two.

i have a friend, i will call him (M).


(M) shows up to my house at three o'clock in the morning: stinking drunken loudness wake-up call to the girl who needs to get up in just a few short hours for work. awesome. and my kid is sleeping next to me on my bed. awesome.

so, (M) wants to party party party, but i tell him he can sleep here in my living room if he wants, if he wants to party party party he must get his sorry ass out the door. and quickness. i pull out the floor pillows and get some blankets from the red room corner and walk my sleepy self back to my warm and cozy bed with my little girl who wanted to sleep in mommie's bed. he proceeds to lay down for a split second, but to my pissed-off amazement, he gets up and starts to party party party with my guitar. singing drunken punk rock (M) songs,

laughing and going, "woooooo," this really makes super DRee pissed off. my feet touch my cold wood floor next to the bed with a little thump and they take me out to the living room, fists hitting and pushing this reject out my house. legs kicking shins and legs. fuck this guy! i lock him out, slam my door shut with a "fuck off! don't ever fucking come back to my house fuck off!" screaming from my mouth. all this while half awake and dreaming of being awake, is all this real or what is this in front of me and why are my feet moving? ... i trail back to my bed and cover up with my down comforter and three-year-old sleeping soundly though it all, thankful mommie.



and i wish this was the end of my story so-called, but alas...



he knocks on my door, and taps, and knocks loudly. and yells. and then walks around to my bedroom window and repeats these actions. "fuck you andrea for not letting me in, what kind of friend are you, let me the fuck in, fucker, fuck you!" i just try to ignore it all, i imagine he will go away in time if i pretend to be not paying attention. in and out of sleep i drift as he circles my house continually for what it turns out to be hours. at six o'clock in the morning i am so tired and pissed off, i do the thing i have always said i will not do. he left me no choice, i needed him to leave my yard. i could not leave my house while he was here trying to get in, terrorizing the neighborhood.... i called the cops! district two to the rescue! ... there is this guy at my house, he showed up really drunk at three a.m. and will not leave, i told him to leave, but he won't, i didn't want to call you guys but i really need someone to come here and take him so i can get ready for work, he won't be combative or anything, i just need some help.... alright ma'am, i'll get someone over there in *just a few... i say thank you to district two dispatch.
but they show up *just a few after (M) left. oh well, at least he is gone and i can feel better now.


and i needed a laugh, this night was socrazy, socrazy, so i called my daughter's father's cell phone number. his voice mail is hilarious. he got a cell phone from a mexican store in louisvilleORsomewhere that answers in a spanish generic message, "senoir t.c." heh. too bad he's in jail or junked out fucker oh well...

loss

there exists a fucked up situation.

someone has been breaking into my friend's house and terrorizing her life. this person, who ever he is, has done this several times. multiple things have been stolen. this person has rifled through her underwear drawer, bed, clothes. it's really strange. these things are a violation of her happiness and well being, but today, this person went far and beyond even more fucked-up status to a staus worthy of someone who shouldn't be allowed to walk another day. today, he broke into her house and wrote the threat, 'Die' on her fridge. And on the back door window, he wrote the words, 'I will get you.'

Fuck this guy.

To enter a mother's house and threaten her and her son with death is a threat that should not go un-noticed or un-punished.

my thoughts are with his downfall and loss.