today is my moms 31st birthday

raised by the first black brain surgeon and the first black plastic surgeon, my mother was very disappointed when i came out and declared that i wanted to be a pro blogger. especially because i stated this in 1984 well before anyone ever got paid to do anything on the computer.

oh, that is other than my mom. my mom was one of the first black female computer programmers. which is funny because back then you had to write your stuff in COBOL and PASCAL and all these crazy languages and now she can barely work her Tivo. it took her years to get wifi going in her house but now she comes home from work and dials up the busblog and squints because she knows a bad word is bound to hit her when she least expects it.

my mom is an angel. she has put up with so much in her life and she only gets sweeter. how is that possible? she will talk politics she will talk sports she will talk current events and even though the conclusion of each discussion is usually “man we’re all so doomed” she shrugs it off and tells me about my cute niece and nephew.

my mother hates bad language and bad manners and pleads with me to try harder to be “clean” when i write. i say momma thats the white man youre trying to please. f whitey! and she says, no, your grandmother wouldnt approve, so pretend youre trying to please her.

i feel like ive told all the stories about my mom in here before so let me tell you about the time i had a column printed in the LA Times. im sure it wasnt the proudest moment, but it was right up there because it was about race and i didnt swear. poor mom has had to read hundreds if not thousands of opinion pieces of mine where f bombs are being carpet bombed. my best college column started off “f— f— f—“, so when i told her that there was a good chance that i was gonna be in my local rag, her first words were “oh no Lord.”

shes always worried that the cops are coming or that im about to be fired or that i will be banned from writing somewhere because a)the cops have come, b)i get fired all the time and c)i was fired and then banned from my college paper.

but i tell her those things were just flukes. and i wonder why my mom couldnt have had a richie cunningham like she deserved – some apple pie eating white kid with freckles who wanted to direct movies about astronauts.

instead i was her first born and louder when i was younger, and hyper and wild and full of classic cocacola. she was outnumbered, outgunned, and exhausted when she came home but our house was always clean, there was always food, we always were at school, we had braces and went to scouting and sports and she gave us everything that any kid could ever want because she gave us love. the most important thing of all.

and because i love her i didnt say all the colorful words that you know i was dying to say.

i love you mom


every now and then you gotta drive thru the

darkness on the edge of town

They’re still racing out at the Trestles,
But that blood it never burned in her veins,
Now I hear she’s got a house up in Fairview,
And a style she’s trying to maintain.
Well, if she wants to see me,
You can tell her that I’m easily found,
Tell her there’s a spot out ‘neath Wrigley Field,
And tell her, there’s a darkness on the edge of town.

Everybody’s got a secret, Sonny,
Something that they just can’t face,
Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it,
They carry it with them every step that they take.
Till some day they just cut it loose
Cut it loose or let it drag ’em down,
Where no one asks any questions,
or looks too long in your face,
In the darkness on the edge of town.

Some folks are born into a good life,
Other folks get it anyway, anyhow,
I lost my money and I lost my wife,
Them things don’t seem to matter much to me now.
Tonight I’ll be on that hill ’cause I can’t stop,
I’ll be on that hill with everything I got,
Lives on the line where dreams are found and lost,
I’ll be there on time and I’ll pay the cost,
For wanting things that can only be found
In the darkness on the edge of town.

by Bruce Springsteen

and i hate astrology most of all

An encyclopedia describes a scorpion as a nocturnal arachnid that attacks and paralyzes its prey with a poison injected by the long, curved tail, used for both defense and destruction. Its sting is sometimes fatal.

People often draw back visibly when someone says he or she was born in November, murmuring, “Oh, you’re a Scorpio!” either in frank fear, or in awe and respect. Some­times there’s also a giggle that obviously refers to the legendary Scorpio passion. Scorpios are fed up with these reactions to their Sun sign, and who can blame them? But they are ruthless and dangerous, right?

Wrong. It depends. First, you’d better learn how to recognize the sign. In self-defense perhaps-or because you seek a really superior human being.

Scorpio likes to travel incognito. Thanks to his well-controlled nature, he usually succeeds, but there are a couple of short cuts which will make it easier to penetrate his disguise at midnight or at noon.

Look at the eyes. They can be green, blue, brown or black, but they’ll be piercing with hypnotic intensity. Most people feel nervous and ill at ease under Scorpio’s steady gaze. You’ll have to break the spell and look away first. He’ll outstare you every time. It’s a foolproof identifica­tion of the Pluto personality. Scorpio eyes bore deeply into you, mercilessly, as if they’re penetrating your very soul. They are.

Next, listen to him speak. The tone can be velvety soft, husky or sharply cutting, the speech slow and measured or clipped and staccato, but what he says will never be self-effacing. Scorpio has total ego. He knows what he is and he knows what he is not, and nothing anyone else thinks will change this knowledge. Insults roll right off his back, and compliments don’t move him a fraction of an inch. He needs no one to tell him his vices or his virtues. At best, he’ll calmly agree with your appraisal; at worst, he’ll suspect your motives.

Such mastery of the personality has to be envied. No matter how his emotions are stirred, youll rarely see them reflected on Scorpio’s frozen, immobile face. These people proudly and consciously practice a blank expression. They command their features to remain firm, and their features obey. (They wouldn’t dare disobey a Scorpio.) You’ll sel­dom see Scorpio give himself away by blushing or flushing, frowning or grinning. Smiles are rare, but genuine. The body follows the same orders as the face. There will rarely be any jumping, sudden starts or nervous mannerisms.

He’ll never flinch with embarrassment or swell up with pride. Reaction is always kept at a bare minimum, because Scorpio’s art is to probe your nature and motives relent­lessly, while remaining inscrutable himself, and he’s an ex­pert at it.

It’s important to remember that there is a particular type of Scorpio who moves and speaks rather quickly, and appears to have an open, friendly manner. Look deeply into his eyes and really think about some of his past actions, his true behavior. He’s really just playing a game with all his happy talk. Inside, he’s as tough and determined as the more typical, poised Pluto people. Perhaps he’s even a shade more dangerous because his disguise is better, and he fools you more easily. Start treating him as Chariie-nice-guy, who’s completely harmless, and you may be courting some trouble. Be on guard with all Scorpios. I don’t mean they’re wicked. They’re just not soft or naive. Some Scorpios, realizing that their eyes expose their inner intensity, wear sunglasses frequently, even at night.

If you’re sensitive, don’t ask his opinion or advice. You’ll get the naked, brutal truth. You asked him, hell tell you. Scorpio will not pay a false compliment to gain a point or win an ally. It’s beneath him to flatter. When he says something nice to you, treasure it. You can be sure it’s sincere and unvarnished. If he says you have a good voice, stop singing in the shower and grab a microphone. If he says you have a great voice, you can safely audition for the Met. He may even effortlessly move a few mountains out of your way to help you along.

Don’t believe everything you hear about Scorpio selfishness. Instead, listen to some of the grateful people who have been on the receiving end of his wise counsel and generosity. Scorpio naturally at­tracts either fiercely loyal and dedicated admirers, or en­vious and spiteful enemies. But even the latter give him grudging respect, and you’ll notice they’re careful not to challenge him openly. The examples of the few who did are vivid and painful reminders that caution is required in an attack against Scorpio and his planet, Pluto. Remem­ber that Pluto rules nuclear power.

Yet, there’s a haunting sweetness about these people, and often a gentle sympathy with the sick or despairing. Scor­pio’s touch can be cool and tender, as well as hot. His Sun position gives him several paths to follow. He can imitate the nocturnal scorpion, who will sting others and even gong himself to death for the pure pleasure of stinging- or he can imitate the glorious, soaring path of his symbolic eagle, who rises above earthly limitations, and uses his strength wisely and justly. Great generals like MacArthur, presidents like Theodore Roosevelt and scientists like Madame Curie and Jonas Salk are eagles. More United States presidents have been born under this sign than any other.

The gray lizards fail to draw on the power of Pluto in their natures-power that could lift them high above all the unfortunate circumstances that surround them. In the very teeth of tragedy, this awesome inner strength could give them a new life in the sunlight. But they seek the dark shadows and lie dormant, a pathetic waste of the brilliant potential of their birthright. Still, Scorpio can never slide deep enough into the slime of bitter depression to com­pletely lose the power of Pluto. It’s never too late for the gray lizard to transform himself into an eagle. That kind of deep magic belongs exclusively to every person born under the Sun sign of Scorpio. All they need do is to call on it. Typical eagles have no fear. In battle they’ll lead their men into the very face of death without a tremor. Even the average Pluto man or woman bravely faces anything from physical pain and poverty to ridicule and failure with a proud contempt and complete confidence in an inner ability to overcome any blow.

Scorpio is intensely loyal to friends. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” Some of them do this literally, for friends, rela­tives or loved ones-in battle or in a civilian crisis. The Scorpio soldier leaps instantly, instinctively, to brave the bullets and drag his buddy to safety. The Scorpio fireman gives his life to rescue the child in the burning building. Sometimes it seems Pluto people unconsciously seek vio­lence deliberately, as a challenge to their strength.

Scorpio never forgets a gift or a kindness, and it’s richly rewarded. Conversely, he also remembers an injury or an injustice, but there are different ways of reacting. The eagle will crush the enemy so the enemy learns never to hurt him again, win the fight, and leave the defeated to go his own way. The deadly nocturnal scorpion will first sting, then plan destruction, then sting again. He’s not content with merely evening the score. He must totally destroy the enemy, or at least top him. The typical scorpion stinger will lie awake nights figuring how to get even. If a neighbor deliberately scrapes his fender, he’ll scrape two fenders on the neighbor’s car the next day, and maybe drive over his carefully pruned hedges for good measure. These scorpions are seldom content with forcing the shoe on the other foot to teach enemies how it feels. They glue the sandal on with cement. However, with the gray lizards, Pluto revenge takes the form of bitterness held inside for years, which inevitably causes deep melancholy or actual, lingering physical illness. Seething Scorpio re­sentment, turned inward and never expressed, poisons with deadly certainty. Turned outward, it can create guilt, be­cause the stinger scorpion is ashamed to harm the defense-less, when all is said and done. Therefore, it should be turned neither way-inward nor outward. It should be conquered by looking up and forgetting, like the eagle- never by looking back in anger and retaliation.

Scorpios are seldom sick, but when they are, it’s usually serious. A long rest and a change of attitude, with peaceful acceptance replacing burning resentment, are the best cures.

Scorpio is deeply interested in religion, intensely curious about all phases of life and death, passionately concerned with sex and violently drawn by a desire to reform. Yet he’s also heroic, dedicated to ties of family and love, and gently protective of children and weaker souls. He can be a saint or a sinner. He can experiment with the darkest mysteries this side of Hades, or he can scathingly revile sin and decadence. Whether he emotes from a pulpit, at a business meeting, or from a stage, his hypnotic appeal pierces through his audience, literally transfixing or trans­figuring them. It’s really rather frightening. Even if the Scorpio has temporarily allowed bitterness, drink or melan­choly to drag him into the Bowery, you can bet your old copy of Dante’s Inferno that the other bums will clear a path when they see him coming.

Scorpio was born knowing the secrets of life and death, and with the ability to conquer both if he chooses. But astrology constantly advises him that “he must know that he knows.” The ancient mysteries fascinate his brilliant mind. Out of his powerful empathy with human nature grows the outstanding detective, the composer of great musical works, literature of depth and permanence, or the actor who projects with unusual dramatic intensity. Some­times he lives alone, near the sea, as strong and as silent as the tides. Sometimes he faces the public, wearing a mask of calm reserve and control, to hide his intense desire to win. He can be a politician or a television star, an under­taker or a bartender, but he’ll manage to top all his com­petitors. And hell do it so effortlessly it will seem like an act of fate rather than his own powerful will.

Both the gray lizards and the stinging scorpions can become proud eagles without ever revealing the secret of their sorcery. No use to ask-Scorpio will never tell. But he knows the eternal truth of the circle contained in the symbolic zero.

November’s thistle is dangerous, yet it grows entwined with the heavy, languid beauty of the Scorpio honeysuckle. Have you ever inhaled that sweet, overwhelming fragrance on a still midsummer’s night? Then you will know why there are those who brave the thistles to seek the gentle­ness of Scorpio-exquisite gentleness. The explosive pas­sion of Pluto has the rich, dark red wine color of the bloodstone. But Scorpio steel is tempered in a furnace of unbearable heat until it emerges cool, satiny smooth-and strong enough to control the nine spiritual fires of Scorpio’s wisdom.

i cant even work

im so mad

how is it 1:30pm
how is it that i just asked the greatest questions of all
and the fucking radio thing wouldnt work
how is it that the words coming from the right people
are so wrong
and the words coming from those who are so far away
are so right

who are you i was asked
i have no idea i thought
i thought i was someone cool
but im not.
i thought i was something sorta good
and sorta important
but so not true.

there are very few people who i have trusted in my life
when it comes right down to it.
and by trust i mean shared everything with.
including the concept of trust.

i had two grandmothers who never took excuses.
one did it in a very angry uptight hit you with a purse way
one did it with a look that would slice you in half.

and they would beat excuses out of your head and youd get to a point where
youd just do everything.

all i know is sometimes you dont wanna open up any doors
sometimes you dont want people to shine a light in your dusty corners
you dont want the devil to show you the obvious
which is

youre barely even a blogspot blogger

youre almost a livejournaler.

youre practically nothing.

and when you die

you better hope that you are allowed to have whatever you want on your tombstone

cuz that will be the only thing left for people to remember you by

and if anyone wants to piss on my grave, look for the rocks that look like a huge log of cow shit

that spelt out says

fuck ticketmaster

if theres one thing i dont hate,

its canadian girls

especially those who like to bake cookies. yes its true i sent two pounds of semi sweet chocolate morsels up to vancouver when i was told that young keira-anne wasnt able to get a wide variety in the land of free everything.

so i sent her some nestle toll house, her faves
but i also threw in a bag of hershey’s
and two bags of what all the kids loved in frisco, ghirardelli
i got her one bag of regular and one bag of 60% cacao, or bittersweet

by letter here are the bags i sent
ghirardelli cacao – A
hershey’s – B
nestle – c
ghirardelli reg – D

keira invited her pallie miss604 over and they cooked up all the cookies
to see the results of the cook-off and to see which chips the ladies liked
just go over to keira’s blog and becky’s blog and see what they concluded