Dear Roger: Dammit Doug Fir or How I Got Bit In The Ass By 100 Monkeys

So I went to another concert last night at the Doug Fir. Never mind it was a school night, or that it was colder than penguin balls outside. I had bought the ticket over a month ago and I decided I might oughta go because I had told a couple of friends of mine I was going and I thought I deserved a night out. I did not expect it to drop to sub-arctic before hand, but hey? who the hell needs to feel their feet at a rock concert,right?

I wore my 20x Wranglers and a heavy coat, my hat, some gloves and I thought I was bundled up enough, but then we ended up spending a half-hour standing out by Pioneer square watching the temperature gauge on the Chase bank register lower and lower, while we waited for the next bus to come and get our frozen asses to take us on up to the Doug Fir,(have I mentioned that when my ears and nose get cold, my happy thoughts and general pleasant demeanor tend to leave the country?), well anyway, we get there and I had pretty much already decided that if they were gonna try and make us stand outside in the cold, somebody was gonna get told a thing or two. Lucky for us and them they were letting folks in where it was marginally warmer. But one thing they did before they let us in was stamp our wrists...WITH A MONKEY STAMP. The exact same monkey stamp they used at the 100 Monkeys concert. Fuck my life.

Daughter is not a stupid child. She is aware that her favorite person in the whole world,(and yes, as I am writing this, HE her favorite person)is going to be in this neck of the woods in the next little bit. She assumes that they will of course be doing concerts in this area. She looked up Vancouver BC on a map when I tired to explain that he was still quite a distance away,"Its closer than Texas and Arizona, so I am not seeing the problem?" She wants that I should just drop everything and take her, yesterday. So we have had our issues with making why that is not going to happen, understood.

So last night, she knew I was going to a concert. I had told her the name of the guy before, but she had never heard of him so she didnt retain it. She just knew she was staying home with her brother and that I was going to the Doug Fir,(she was already suspicious), and I would be in late.

I may have indulged a bit in a few too many whiskey sours. I meant to scrub that damn monkey stamp off my arm before I got home and fell asleep, but see...the thing is, my fella...Jack, met me at the bar after the show, and being a good Southie fella from Boston, he elevates drinking to a whole nuther level.We hung out at the bar and apparently, well, I got a bit snockered.

I got home around 1ish, still drunkish and I fell asleep in most of my clothes.I had ditched my coat and sweater at the front door along with one boot and my hat. But when I ditched the coat? I left my shirt sleeve pushed up and what did I awaken to this morning? "I KNEW IT!! YOU SAW HIM!! YOU LIIIIIIIEEDDD" Now I am still a little buzzed at this point, queasy and wondering just what the hell I am being accused of by my small daughter? Why does she sound like she is accusing me of stealing her man or something? Then I see it...that damn monkey stamp! Its as much a sign of guilt in her eyes as lipstick on a collar and she is MAD! Why they had to use the EXACT same stamp they used for the 100 Monkeys show I think was just God screwing with me pretty damn hard.

I start trying to explain, "Noo baby, I didnt see them! I saw some British guy" she is snot sobbing at this point and looking at me like I killed her puppy. "I dont believe you! You just wanted to go without me! Chance said so!" (deciding at this point that her brothers guitar is getting taken hostage),my head is pounding and I am trying not to barf on her and she is getting louder. She gives me the puppy dog eyes. The look that I wish I could bottle up and send to THEM, the look that tends to make anyone with a soul and a heart, squirm in real or imagined guilt for putting it there. "Please mommy, PLEASE promise me you didnt go without me? You wouldn't do that to me would you? I love them soo much, it would break my heart if I didnt get to go! Its all I want for my birthday!(oh and that is a damn dirty lie if I ever heard one), but I groaned in pain,(very real at this point), and dragged my whiskey addled ass out of bed and I wandered into the kitchen looking for my ticket stub, which by some small grace of GOD I had stuffed into my pocket. I handed it to her and she looked at it. "Who is Bobby Long and Guest?" Well daughter, I said, hes no Jackson Rathbone and 100 Monkeys, so will you forgive me?

She looked at me,"Promise me." At this point I was ready to promise to deliver the men themselves if she would only let me go lay back down. "Promise me you wont go without me to see them." So then stupid me has to negotiate with her,"But what if its an adults only show?" She wrinkled up her nose and looked a bit disgusted, "Why would they do that?" Ahh...to be 6 again.

She still is looking at me like she doesnt really believe me, and I know I heard her humming,"Keep Awake" when I went to lay back down, so I decided it was just a wee bit more prudent to do just that, keep awake and write than to risk sleeping off the rest of my misbehavior at least until she calms down and stops sounding like someones wife I have done wrong.

Dear Roger: Some Things Are Just Better Said,Out Loud

Last night was an odd night to say the least. My son and I were actually hanging out together on the couch, just kinda doing our own things. He was playing some goofy online game and I was writing another chapter on my story,"The Face In The Rear View Mirror", when he looked at me and asked me what I was writing. I told him and for once he asked me,"Can I read it?" I was shocked. No one in my family has ever expressed an interest in any of my writing. I mean they know I write. I have talked about it for years, and my sister saw me perform my Cowboy Poetry,once. But none of them have ever asked to read it, or have shown the least inclination to find out what exactly it is that I spend my time working on. My son especially, though he did, by accident, read a little bit of the slash fic I write and he was somewhat traumatized to discover that his mom has knowledge of such things. So when he asked me if he could read 'Face" it caught me off guard. Its all stored online and in my computer, so I offered to read it to him instead, and he grinned at me, "Aunt Trina told me that is the best way to hear your stuff, so Yeah! I would like that." That also kinda shocked me. I didn't know my sis even remembered seeing me perform.

Rog, if you have never been to a "Cowboy Poetry" performance, its a little "Different" than you were probably used to. Its 1 part poetry, and 3 parts theater. Think Will Rogers style of story telling. It was fun and I miss doing it, but there is just not much call for it up here, though after last night, son was really encouraging me to look into getting back into it.

So anyway, I started at the first chapter and I began reading. I didn't just read it in a monotone, I read it in voice with emotion and everything and son went from staring at his computer screen to staring at me with a funny look on his face, and the next thing I know he had tears in his eyes. "Holy Crap, MOM!" I was there, I knew exactly where that was, I could see it all. Those things happened! You made it soo damn real! He was laughing and he asked,"Do you have more?" I told him I had 3 more chapters done and he said,"Well? read em!" But he wanted an idea of what the boy looked like, so I showed him a picture that was a rough approximation, and had him use his imagination to picture a few things different, like hair a little lighter and the nose that turned up on the end just a bit.

He put his computer down and I continued on with the next chapter and I had his full attention as I read, and when I did the voices he looked at me with something that I have rarely seen in my sons eyes,surprise.He laughed a lot during the second chapter and then he asked me,"Mom, why did you stop performing your poetry? Why didn't you go into acting? You are good! He made me laugh. I told him because being able to read a story that impresses a kid in the safety of my own living room is a hell of a lot different than being up in front of several hundred people on a stage where mistakes are not easily forgiven. I didn't want to starve, and besides, I had a kid to support. He just sat there shaking his head and saying,"Wow!" until I asked if he wanted to hear the rest of the story, and he gave the typical teenager response,'Duh!"

I read him the last couple chapters I had written and he laughed and even cried as he listened to me, until I said, "And thats all I have for now." He looked at me and said,"Mom, you have to let Aunt Trina read these, she would love them! My friends would love them! These stories are awesome, and they made me so homesick for Texas but they also took me back there too." He went on and on for a minute and then he asked, "Do you have any other stories that you can read to me?" I told him I had a couple, but that they were kinda mature content. He said," Well, could you read me the story up to where they start talking about sex and then stop?" So we sat out on the couch, with me reading my stories to him until the wee hours of the morning and he was blown away that his mom isn't just sitting here reading ,"Monkey Porn", I am writing some of it, but that I am also writing some things that he actually enjoys reading.

I am still a bit stunned. My son likes my work. He likes hearing me read it. I know he always comes out and watches when I perform 'Where The Wild Things Are" for sis and he seems to get a kick out of it, but jeeze, Ive only been doing that for close to 15 years, so I can do it in my sleep. He mentioned recording me reading my stuff to send to my sis and I dont know if I am comfortable with that. I know my son, he can be devious and I wouldn't put it past him to youtube me and that would not make me happy.So I think I will just save our living room readings for that, the living room, and share my stories with him while he is still interested and revel in the fact I have at least one fan in the family.

Dear Roger: Defining Me As A "Cool Mom?" I Dont Think I Would Say That

My son and I have our moment when we are able to have deep conversations about things that you and I used to talk about, and its in these moments that I find myself most trying to emulate you and actually draw from the lessons I learned from you.

Its not easy being the parent of a teen boy. He is a moody, difficult, and often volatile man child that seems to sometimes forget that his baby sister, who even though she got tested and proven to be a fecking genius, is just a little girl who is barely out of kindergarten. He is often ravenous, eating seemingly his weight in food in a day and then looking for more, stinky and sometimes secretive and flighty. He has taken to practicing his guitar for literally HOURS on end, and he has come up with some interesting "mash-ups" of many songs, playing them fluidly in ways that boggle the mind, and even creating his own riffs, yet when I ask him to work with me on writing music to go with some song lyrics I have written, he blushes and freezes up and says,"Mom, im not that talented and I would just mess your stuff up."

Hes talented, but he doesn't see it, though he has enough arrogance going on to realize that he is a good looking kid and he tries to capitalize on that with some of his teachers. I have even heard him flirting with some adults to try and get his way! He has managed to get meals and drinks and things like that by just batting his eyelashes at store clerks or working his dimples! He admitted that to me the other day when he came home with a soda when I knew he didn't have any money.I asked him how he got it and he said,"Oh, the lady who is the manager at the restaurant likes me so she gives me stuff from time to time when I go in there with my friends. I just kinda talk a little like thiiis (he turned on the Texas drawl) and I smile and she gives me a soda or some fries." Roger, I about lost my damn mind! I know where he learned that little bit of manipulation and its partially my fault because we had a conversation about it a while back.

We were talking about my favorite little fella and how he had gone from being a Texan to being a "Coon-ass" Louisiana boy. I had commented that playing to the occasion and turning up the accent to charm and work whatever crowd might be around, was a clever way of staying on top of things and while some folks might not like it, I didn't mind because its all part of being in that line of work. I guess my son pays a little more attention to things than I had thought, because apparently he is working it too. Jesus wept Rog, its not fair to unleash that kinda stuff on women. Son has been in a growth spurt again and he no longer has to stand on his toes to look on top of the damn fridge. He just looks and he can see if I have any chocolate stashed up there or stray cash. He went through 2 boxes of cereal in two days, a gallon of milk and a box of twinkies along with his regular meals, so food is a definite issue around here, along with buying him clothes.

He has asked about getting a job, and while I am not thrilled with the idea of him working, I guess as long as he keeps up with his schoolwork I really cant forbid it anymore than I can him growing up. He needs money for some of his own stuff, and I could use the financial break from having to buy him new jeans every month. He is also going through guitar strings really fast. He made the last set last a lot longer than they should have, and he was pretty disconsolate that his guitar sounded so crummy because I couldn't afford to buy him new strings for so long. If hes putting in the effort to practice and get good by playing for 4-5 hours a day, then the least I could do is try to indulge him that little bit.

He has started letting me hug him again! Thats a good thing because he went through that whole , "Im a guy and too big for my mom to be hugging on." so I had missed getting hugs for quite a while. Now he often grabs me and hugs me before he leaves for school in the morning and we ALWAYS say a hearty round of ,"I love you's" each and every day.

He told me I am a,"Cool mom", and I asked him why he would say that? I often doubt my job as a mother. In fact I feel I have failed on so many levels. I have made horrible choices in men, we are chronically poor and he has had to do without a father, a safe and stable home, and many of the things that normal kids have in their lives. I am moody, often self-centered, and often sick or dealing with stress or health issues that make me difficult to be around, but my son tells me that he has never doubted that no matter what, no matter if he was the biggest pain in my ass or if he failed or if he made mistakes or even if he was mean to me, he knew I loved him. He said he knew that no matter who he chose to love, I would love him and eventually them(his girlfriend is growing on me), but if he had been gay I would have loved him the same. I never falter in my love and devotion to those I care about because of things like that and it has made an impact on him. He now thinks the same way. I commented about a daughters love of a certain young rock star being something that is going to lead to a rude awakening for her some day, and he said,"Yeah, but she loves him no matter what and you do too and that just means you have raised her right and that you are a cool mom." I dont know when I became so open minded about these things, maybe it was after realizing that all the secrecy is what killed Robert and all the bigotry and hate is what I resented in my father, or maybe it was just realizing that love is love is love and whatever side of the biscuit that someone butters is just their business and if they are lucky enough to have love in their life, then they should be allowed to enjoy it as long as they are both consenting adults.

My dating is going well. I have met a guy that didn't flinch and run away screaming when I tried to scare him off and it looks like I will be seeing him again. Hes not some young hottie, but hes funny and smart and an artist so we will be able to have a pint or two together and chat about things.

Dear Roger;Who Knew It Would This Difficult To Get Laid?

So I am full force back into the dating world I guess you might say, and its pretty interesting. Men are a little different or maybe I am different. Not wanting a man around full-time kind of puts me on a different footing with them than I used to be, and though I enjoy their company, I can be much more picky than I used to be. I really want a younger guy to pal around with and kind of just have a casual, "Friends with benefits" thing, but it seems that its difficult to find such a critter up here. The two guys I have gone out with so far have been interesting, and I had a nice time, but there was no real spark or chemistry and to be brutally honest, I want a man that is just gonna want to make me jump him in the bushes. Its been so long since I had a good solid trouncing, that I just really cant even think straight about half the damn time. Seriously, women get those urges too and its really kind of difficult to get through the day, seeing all these hot young men scrolling across my desktop on my computer, and realizing that my only source of relief might be a few moments alone in my shower with a bargain basement shower head.

I am in shape. I dont stink. I cant get knocked up. Im not diseased. SOO...WHAT. THE. HELL?

I am just about to the point that I would pay for it, but I am poor, so I would have to pay for low rent pecker, and God only knows what that would result in...

I registered on a dating website after being cajoled into it by a friend of mine, and its resulted in some interest, but the results have been...odd? I have some things that are deal killers. If I write in my ad that I am looking for a guy that is capable of carrying on at least a coherent conversation and who is fit enough to survive a date with me, and a guy responds with an email that I cant even translate with my teen helping me, and the picture looks like something off of the beginning of the "Biggest Loser"(dont watch that crap, have only seen the commercials), then I am just going to hit delete), so I dont end up wasting his and my time. I dont have a bias against heavy guys, but I want a guy that can keep up with me, and if we weighs 300lbs, that aint going to happen.

My first date was interesting. He was a hot little Romanian guy that I would have gladly drug off into the bushes. He has this smile with dimples and green eyes and hes in great shape and...oh my goodness does he WEAR HIS JEANS! but...hes old fashioned, traditional, doesn't speak English so good, and it would be a LOT of work to get the point across to him that I just want uh...you know? It sounds terrible, but I have some guys I can talk to now. That is so nice. We talk music and art and Bukowski, Waits,guitars , beer, guns, cars and dirty jokes, and hopefully we will meet up and have a beer and a smoke soon at Kells. I miss hanging out with guys and especially guys that are younger minded and full of fun. I am working on getting back into the world I left, and maybe that will solve my lack of pecker problem, but the whole dating thing is so different than it used to be it kinda freaks me out.

I dont like guys that are into sports too much,I dont like guys that are prejudiced against homosexuals or other races, or guys that are rude to people. Im just freaking picky I guess. I like guys that are a bit weird and quirky and free spirited and most of all funny and able to laugh at themselves. I like guys with hair. The guy I went out with yesterday was a shaver, as in he shaved his head, and I was a bit disappointed. I mean, I like a guy with hair for a reason. I dont care about the color or the style or anything like that, but I like him to have some.Tattoos are nice, I have tattoos that arent flash tell me that there is an edge to him, kinda like me. Piercings are interesting, depending on the location, but the one thing I really dont care for are the ear vagina's. I dont get the whole,"Lets make the ear lobe have this HUGE gaping hole that will hang and look really weird when I am old" thingy...its a bit gross and kinda a deal killer. Im not a big drinker, but I will have a Guinness with pretty much anybody. Dont like big fancy dates, and Im not impressed by fancy dinners out. I prefer to meet and have coffee somewhere so we can sit and talk and I can see if there is that spark of interest that will fuel the fire. I haven't felt it often, and the few times I have felt it,its been when there was no chance of it being lit and burned. The slow burn I used to have is still there and still so far away. I miss it, and perhaps that is what keeps me from being willing to settle for less the perfect burn, but I do know I wish that something would come along that would light me up and make me forget all about the old embers.

Dear Roger:Being Myself? Oh Boy...I Was Hoping For A Second Date

So tomorrow is the date with the banana suited guy and I have to say I am actually nervous about it. I swear and be damned I am not changing who I am for any man because I dont want a ,"Keeper", that I just want a "Friend with benefits", but this guy impressed me. He has a brain and wit and a sense of humor and he offered me intellectual stimulation on top of all the potential for physical stimulation. I kinda want to try and maybe have a second date and maybe a third. What the hell? I dont want any man around for more than a tumble no matter how cute and alluring and talented he is ...right? I am so set in my ways, so misanthropic, that even my friends know that showing up or staying around too long is a bit of a no go with me. I just get edgy and kinda tense and then I get quiet and nervous. I just dont handle people well, but thinking about wanting a MAN around? That is just crazy!I sleep sideways across my bed,(when I actually make it to it), or I sleep out on the couch. Im moody when I am writing and I often mutter and sometimes pace back and forth and rant or curse and wad up paper and throw it at seemingly nothing. I have adult ADD and that makes even me crazy at times. I will go from cleaning to kitchen and cooking dinner to writing to sketching to talking to my son to putting away laundry to working on the computer to checking the mail to rearranging furniture, all within 10 minutes. I have 5-6 stories I am writing at a time, songs that I am working on so I strum on the guitar and curse and mutter and argue with it when I cant get it to sound like I want. I fill up a sketch book and throw it away, I go without talking to people for weeks, sometimes even months. I am a terrible friend. I am still jumpy about physical contact and with my issues with my wisdom teeth, I am sure that I have death breath even though I practically have sonicared the enamel off my teeth and I should own stock in the company that makes scope.

My fashion sense is odd to say the least. I wear jeans and boots almost constantly. My jeans are either blue or black and I no longer have an ass I have been told. I guess it finally fell the rest of the way off. I am skinny, very skinny, as in can shop in children's sizes skinny. I stick with a size 3-5 but I can wear a size 1 or a kids size L. It pisses me off because its not fair. I have had 5 freaking kids! I should have curves! My ass should not be missing at this point in my life. So my jeans, while I try to wear them tight or at least fitting, are often a little baggy in the ass. I do still have nice boobs, that is my one saving grace. My hair is growing out and is that weird in-between place that cannot decide where the hell it is going. but it is blonde with what I am told natural highlights and tones that people pay big bucks to get put in. My tattoos are in need of touch-ups and one just needs repairs, but on the bright side my adult onset acne is mostly cleared up! yeah! As for shirts...I dont wear t-shirts so much anymore, but I have been told I look like a Domme with my banded collar shirts and black short jackets and silver studs and straps and such. Welllll, I dont know what to say about that. I guess I am a bit dominant in my personality and my wardrobe reflects that, so why should I change that? I am not a pastel kinda girl. I am a black and red and leather and metal kinda person. I would like a second date unless this guy is a stinky booger eater, but I cannot surrender too much of who I am. I will leave my hat at home, fix my hair a bit, wear my best boots and shave my legs,(im going to be a slutty optimist), and hope for the best.

Dear Roger: Men are Bad For Muses

Well I am living proof of the write/artists conundrum. It seems that the more I start to get involved with things of the human realm, the less my writing flows. Its really aggravating.I really understand why misanthropy and and antisocial behavior run in artistic types, because when we start getting all interested and involved with real people, and maybe, perhaps...HAVING SEX!!(GOD PLEASE??!!), the artistic muse hauls ass to some other poor soul that has nothing else going on. Considering that I have only just gone on ONE real date, and talked to a few guys, and defiantly NOT had anything even resembling anything CLOSE to sex, YET, or even a kiss. I find it disgustingly unfair that my muse has fled me and if I could hunt him down I would probably kick him a few times in his peach pits just for the hell of it. Yes, my muse is something I actually picture and argue with or rant at and it has a visual representation that morphs and changes depending upon my mood. Hes male though, and just as arrogant and temperamental as any damn male I have ever tried to work on any project with. This probably has deep psychological implications, chalk it up to "daddy" issues or the whole personality quirk that I have that makes me more of an Alpha female that just could never work with a woman anyway, but my muse being a guy has always been a bit of a source of comfort even though he irritates me at times like this.

I tried writing today, but after I got out my pencil and paper and sat for a bit and it just didn't come pouring out, I knew it was time to put the pencil and paper away and just people watch. If it doesn't just come burning out of me like a forest fire tearing up the side of a mountain destroying the empty paper in front of it, then its not worth putting down. Some nights I wake up with ideas in my subconscious, and in the morning when I stagger my bleary way towards the coffee maker in the kitchen, I often stop to scrawl them on the bedside table if I haven't already scribbled them on my arm or the wall. Those ideas, those are the ones that often work. They are the songs that I looked at today and went,"WHOA!, I fucking wrote that?" I looked them over again and I usually edit shit to death, correcting my spelling or my grammar or my handwriting weirdness, but these songs I wrote...they were pretty damn good, but the thing is I wrote them when I was heart broken and thinking I was never going to move forward. I dont know what I am going to do with them. My son might want to record them some day, he kinda likes,"Over-privileged, Dirty,White Boy Blues", and he thinks "Burning With You" is heartbreaking, and not something he COULD sing because he knows the back story. Maybe I will try to sell them, maybe I will just burn them. I dont know. I have books and books of stuff I have written over the years that will never see the light of day because nobody gives a damn. Im working on losing the morose and sad because the funny has been all over the place up here lately.

Talking to a guy that likes Charles Bukowski and Tom Waits as well as the Monkey men? Hell Rog, if that isnt some weird kinda serendipity at work I dont know what the hell is. I will gladly send my muse on vacation for a while. He could use a tan and some meat on his bones and I could use a good attic dusting. Maybe while he is gone I will gain a new outlook on life.

Dear Roger; Custom Made Man Or is God Playing Pranks?

Okay, I went on a date with "Eastern Promises" accent guy! We met over at a bar near my place and talked for a few hours and it was interesting and exciting and a huge deal to me because I actually managed to psyche myself up enough to follow though and actually go out and meet the guy. It was very hard to sit across from him and talk to him when all I could thing about was how I would really rather drag him out to the back of his car for a quick and dirty. Yeah, its been a long time and I have sex on the brain. I thought I wasn't interested in a relationship and really I am not into a long draw out courtship kinda thing and he is actually an old fashioned , traditional, take it slow kinda guy.He was cute,didnt speak a whole lot of English and has had an interesting life, but I just dont know. I feel like I am car shopping. The whole thing was kinda awkward and weird and we really didn't have a lot to talk about when it got down to it, so I politely looked at my phone, commented he looked tired, and said that I should be getting home. He insisted on escorting me,which I found amusing, and we went our separate ways. He may or may not show up for coffee tomorrow morning, but I am fine with that because I had such an interesting thing happen today.

I got a message in my Gmail account from a guy, and it said, " hey" And included with the message was a picture of a guy in a banana suit. I was intrigued. I figured if he was crazy enough to send me that, then "Why not?" So I emailed him back. We spent the rest of the day talking back and forth and its like he was designed for me. He is snarkily funny, weird and he understands when I use 3 syllable words. He likes Bukowski and Waits and he even backed up those claims by citing his favorites selections and we DISCUSSED!! It was amazing. He is in the same career field I was in and we have so much in common it blows me away. I cannot believe he is real. He even admitted liking the 100 Monkeys. No straight, normal, grown man admits liking them, but he was even able to discuss lyrics and songs and such. I was stunned and a little afraid I was being set up. Maybe someone is playing a sick joke on me and he is an amalgamation of all my dream men in one perfect creature. His picture shows a fit looking fella,with eyes that gleam with mischief, but his face is not clear in the picture. Im not so worried about his looks, his brain is interesting and his humor is great and I am so thrilled to have someone to talk to. We went from emailing back and forth to texting back and forth and we are meeting this week to have a date. I am excited. I hope hes real. But if not, its just another step along the path that has been exciting and invigorating.

Its been fun and I am enjoying just talking to men again if nothing else.