Happy New Year 2018

Dear friends,

              Last year is last year now. Just a quick post to let you know I am back and am going to attempt to blog more regularly.

Just Records...Or Not Part One

Last  Friday I sold the majority of my last remaining records (along with some books), to Singles Going Steady record store located in downtown Seattle. The records were not ones I wanted to part with, but I am in a position right now where I need money more than I need objects that are put away where they had no use. A few of those records I have had since 1980, rare punk gems. The books and records netted me almost $150. Still, as  I left without my records and books, a sadness came over me. I felt lost, uncertain, and almost grief-stricken. I also felt relieved, joyous, and free. These mixed feelings were caused by the war inside me between who I was, and who I am today. I am still trying to figure out what to do about my war.

Getting Ready To Perform Again

    I've been thinking about turning 50 next year, and what I haven't done that I would really like to do. One thing that I want to do is perform spoken word/poetry live again. It would give me great pleasure to actually publish a chapbook of poems again and go on a little tour doing readings. My tentative goal is to make that happen by the Spring of 2016. In order to do this I will need to focus on these things:
1) Attend open mikes around town.
2) Host a gig myself
3) Finish my poetry chapbook
4) Publish my poetry
5) Practice self-promotion of some kind.
6) Blog


Ok, now I have put it out there. Let the magic begin!

I Had A Poetry Teacher Once

     I had a teacher once. She lifted me out of my creative poverty. The poems came more easily then, and I judged them less. Shelley Tucker (Writing Poetry) was that teacher. She welcomed a motley group of poets and potential poets into the gorgeous studio behind her house in Ballard. We removed our shoes and drank "poetry tea" (Good Earth's original -- or maybe decaf) -- it's earthy, cinnamon sweetness delighting our tongues. She also had a second teapot, usually filled with a ginger tea that left a tang on the tongue. Hot tea for hot poems. There were between 8 and 12 of us gathered around a large table. We had the freedom to write whenever we wanted, and were urged to be as generous with praise as we wanted to be, leaving heavy criticism (unless the poet asked for it) outside of the sacred space.
       Shelley became my mentor. Her workshops were magical because she had an abundance of love, not just for the craft of poetry, but for the energy and beauty that lived in the "ordinariness" of our words. Her workbooks were not necessarily  only templates, and the exercises in them were not required -- but were places to jump off from, maps to the landscape of our souls.
       Shelley gave me permission to use her materials (Write From The Source workbooks) in my own workshops, and I did use them a couple of times, but haven't yet had the COURAGE or space to do so again. I can come up with all kinds of excuses why, but the main reason is that I doubt I can carry it off as brilliantly as she did. Hopefully, though, one day I will give it a shot.
         Looking back, Shelley's workshops saved me for many years. I feel so grateful to her for showing me how abundant creativity is, if I just take that first word and put it on the page.

Starting The Old Blog Up, All Rusty and Falling Apart

Went to the gym today, at 5:30a.m., and walked on the treadmill for about 20 minutes. I am 45, out-of-shape, with high cholesterol. I then went to Fred Meyer and bought a cheap "analog" scale, to track my weight loss (or gain). I never thought I'd be here, at this point in my life, all rusty and falling apart, like this blog. But here I am. I am in desperate need of a makeover, or something, because my way of doing things hasn't been working.  I mean, I no longer have a job, never set foot in my so-called home office, and get winded climbing the library's few stairs. Yet, in two weeks I'll be starting school to get into a new "career", and it has nothing to do with my passion, but everything to do with bringing home a higher paycheck than retail can bring. Meanwhile, I'm still hoping for a gig, a job, something to help me out.

I was also searching online  to win a makeover, because I need new front teeth, and some nice clothes for interviews, etc. If I ever get another interview. My affirmation is: "The perfect job for me is already mine. It is right and fun, and has many benefits." This is Rusty Roxy signing off for now.

Sonic Youth, "Daydream Nation"

Checked out the Sonic Youth album "Daydream Nation" yesterday from the library because I don't own a copy anymore and thought I'd give it another listen. I used to have it on tape. This would probably be one of my desert island discs because it does not tire with repeated listenings and is simply a gorgeous bundle of noise and music. I would recommend this album to anyone interested in underground, indie, rock or punk music. It's simply one of the greatest records of all time.

Johnny Thunders and Solitaire

I was listening to this fantastic Rhino Records compilation (4 cds) of Punk music and the song "Chinese Rock" came on:

Somebody called me on the phone
Hey is DeeDee home...

I'm living on Chinese rock
All my best things are in hock
I'm living on Chinese rock
Everything is in the pawn shop

At least I think that is the lyric. It's such a cool song, I played it again this morning. Last night I was playing Solitaire on the computer and realized, I'm not living on Chinese Rocks today, and I am grateful for that. Still, the grit and grime and New York-ness of that song gets to me somehow. Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers did it. DeeDee Ramone wrote it. The Ramones have done the song, too. It's a classic. The heartbreak of heroin addiction written very matter-of-factly. And there I was, just playing some Solitaire and having a very mellow evening. I even did the dishes. Then this song just hit me in the solar plexus and I dug it big time.