The Yellow Shelter

I haven’t been able to post anything in here for a while due to being in a state of confusion & constantly switching identities. I’m not sure why this happens. If I were to trace it back to something I think it probably began with accidentally making a bunch of people mad on social media. I hate making people mad since I am the world’s biggest wuss. On the other hand, the more I try to please people, the more I accidentally end up saying exactly what they don’t want to hear.  Just like the harder I try to make sure I don’t say anything sexual, the more some kind of phallic imagery will slip its way into my mouth. The only way to avoid trouble is not to speak at all, but that causes my sense of self to rapidly deteriorate until I have no idea who I am.

Anyway… I wrote this song a couple weeks back when I was hoping yellow could be the answer to all my troubles. 🙁 It wasn’t. Since then I have hoped white could be the answer and then I tried moving everything to the left side of my house. And then I hoped red could be the answer. None of these things worked, but still I learned a little bit from each of them. 

There was a fire born inside. It left me with no place to hide;
I took my shelter out in the rain.
He looked me up, he looked me down, but could he keep me safe and sound?
Like a needle against the pain?

Ten years, like a fool, waiting for you-
The yellow man who never came.
And the road stretched on- it was hard and it was long
Water running through my veins.

He was counting on his hands, such a practical man;
It made me wish that I could have my chance.
But all I got was the rain, it beat me harder than a cane
Till my blood knew the shape of romance.

Ten years, like a fool, waiting for you-
The yellow man who never came.
And the rain stretched on- it was hard and it was strong
Water running through my brain.

Yellow save me cause I, I don’t want to be free
Won’t you take me to your thick warm shelter, come now
To the source of the sound, you will recognize me
Lead me on into your thick warm shelter come now come now come now

And the rain how it poured; it split me open like a gourd
And it came on my face till I bled.
Still when I look in your eyes and see a shelter warm and dry
I want to climb right into your head.

Ten years, like a fool, I was waiting for you-
The yellow man who never came.
And the road stretched on- it was hard, it was long
Water running through my veins.

Yellow save me, cause I don’t want to be free
Won’t you take me to your thick, warm shelter? Come now
To the source of the sound, you will recognize me.
Lead me on into your thick, warm shelter. Come now, come now, come now.

Download MP3: The Yellow Shelter

The Illuminati are Real

Normally, my thinking does not extend far beyond my domestic world. But recently, I have been connecting with the color white and it has made me think about new things.

For example, I have concluded that the Illuminati certainly exist.

Human societies have always formed pyramids. This is a natural result of the fact that power gives one the ability to gain power more power. So power consolidates over time, until it is weakened by a fragile base and toppled by a competing power source. Likewise, throughout history, those at the top have always developed a God complex.

Currently, though, since we resent the very idea of kings and hierarchies, it makes sense for the top of the pyramid to stay hidden behind a cloud.  Instead of being ruled by Golden Kings whom we bow down to worship, we our ruled by Dark Kings who operate behind the scenes. A wonderful place for Kings to live, if they value their heads.

Kings have always risked everything to expand their kingdoms. They have always dreamt of conquering the world. So it makes sense that our hidden Kings- the Illuminati- would dream of a one world government if they felt it within their reach. Which now more than ever- due to an increasingly connected world- it probably is.

We also have a media which works its tentacles into all realms of our life. I imagine this is the primary method the Illuminati use to maintain their power. It allows them to shape our view of reality, to provide us with our goals in life. It allows us to be herded without putting up a fight.

If you consider the net impact of movies, music, news etc and all the messages they contain, it is insane. And we don’t only hear these ideas FROM the media- we hear them coming from the mouths of everyone we know- spoken as their very own thoughts. And supposedly all this media power is ultimately concentrated in a very few hands.

As for who and what these Illuminati would be, I have no idea. I am only using the term “Illuminati” because it is a popular, romantic term, which also conveys the idea of a God complex, something common to all conquerers.

Ultimately, I think it is naive to believe that we live in a world where power has not managed to congeal and be concentrated within a small number of hands, as power always has. Or perhaps there are multiple Illuminati groups, who compete with one other. Unfortunately, I know nothing about the top of the pyramid. But I believe it is reasonable to assume it exists, as it always has.

So what relevance does this line of thought have to our everyday lives?

On the one hand, none. Humans have always lived beneath Kings and always will. Perhaps this is how we survive as a species. It is nothing to feel oppressed by.

On the other hand- if the media is the primary weapon of our rulers-I think there is great value in unraveling these messages which we have been devouring since birth. Not the explicit ones, but the implicit sense of what life is all about which slides through the cracks.

Because I believe we all have a spiritual purpose, but that it might not be visible to us if we are viewing life through the wrong framework. By questioning the framework, the full scope of life’s possibilities become visible again. We can make sense of life in a way that matches our spirit.

Down with the Illuminati!

Threes (Video)

Sometimes I have words to explain things & other times I don’t. This past week I was trying to expose myself to as much yellow as possible in the hopes that it would give me more practical forms of intelligence, but I don’t think it worked. I sat for long periods in front of a yellow light & afterwards just found that all the words had been knocked out of me. I’m not sure why. Probably just because yellow is so different from what I normally think about that I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

So that is my excuse for not being able to give you any meaningful explanations for this song. Really though, it might have more to do with the nature of the song and not so much to do with yellow.

Hold me by the wrist.
Hold me to the ground.
Watch the world it flies
Spinning round and round.

Tell me what you know.
Tell me everything.
Pressed into a box.
Pressed into a ring.

See clouds that fly.
See them flying free.
That third one is I-
Do you recognize me now?

Their reflections fly
Flowing down the stream
Round my ankles I
Need you to release me now.

In the mirror there,
I saw you again
Like a foggy man
Close behind me then

Pressing into me
Your two hands were tied.
We’re in this world now
Like the square it binds.

Catch a bird that flies
Slice him into three.
Like a man he dies-
Do you understand me now?

Capture any bird
Capture anything
The relentless claw-
Do you understand me now?

When I heard your words
They were only sounds
Tying up my brain
Filling it with brown.

And my heart was tied
Like an animal too.
Our words weren’t the same
How could I explain to you?

Something isn’t right.
Something spinning wrong.
Shapes are scratching now.
Not where I belong.

Every cloud that flies
Breaking up in threes
Meaning something dies
Will you recognize me now?

I am Bone (Video)

This is a song sung by a person who has been murdered. She is singing to her parents who are searching for her, not knowing if she is still alive. It is based on real events. 🙁

I hate dark & scary things. That is why I sometimes write songs about them.  Songs can spin bad things out of this reality into another one.  For the same reason, I rarely write songs about good things, for fear that I might accidentally spin them out of this world.

Here is the lyrics. That is wrong grammar, right?  but I am so tired of good grammar. What has it ever done for me? I just want grammar to match the way I feel. But there are people who judge intelligence by adherence to proper form. I know you aren’t that way, and it is part of why I like you so much.

But I do fear the judgments of others. Mostly, because I don’t feel confident in my ability to survive in this world. Maybe one day I will be walking the streets without food or shelter and the judgments people have of my value will be the only thing standing between me and death.

So, for the sake of survival I try to be dignified. But it is a heavy load to bear. Sometimes I wish I could be free- but you know where freedom leads- straight to the homeless shelter. Or the insane asylum. I also have a fear of being locked up in a mad house, with people using my own words to prove that I am out of my mind. It is a very easy thing for me to imagine.

Did I tell you about the time I was accused of wanting to murder a gigantic man and taken to be evaluated by psychiatrists who viewed my “eccentricities” (such as nail polish & proclivity for walking) as signs of a murderous personality? Did I tell you about the time I was said to have raped a gigantic woman? How would I even do these things and why? I don’t know. But what I do know, is that if you seem different somehow, it is easy for others to project whatever meanings they like onto these differences.

If you want to stay safe, dignity is the best choice. But it is a heavy load to bear.

*

Push through trees at night you’ll never
Find the one you’ll love forever.
Some die, some don’t; some will, some won’t
Follow me & I will show you.

Come find me, keep in mind we
won’t be coming home- I am bone.

Shine a flashlight on the dark ground
Time changes thing until they can no longer be found.
I once swore to go before you
Follow me & I will show you.

Come find me, keep in mind we
won’t be coming home- I am bone.

When they scream you’ll know they’ve found me
Terror and shock they will surround me.
Don’t shake don’t cry, I am nearby
Follow me and I will show you.

Come find me, keep in mind we
won’t be coming home- I am bone.

Following Fire (Video)

I wish I could dive head first into a pool of mud. Can you even imagine how amazing that would feel?

Following fire, half-deranged by desire
Like a zombie I walk through the night.
Every dark alleyway, every car breakaway
Leads in my fantasy somewhere so bright.

Reason, morality- never my gifts;
I had the gift of belief.
I light a fire for you, filled with desire for you-
I know you see. I know you see.

Fire in the sky if you let him come by
I will pay you back for all that you’ve given me.
Pay you with blood, it’s the ruby of God,
I will open myself to you, please!

Following fire, melted down by desire
And the star that I follow is hope.
Making me pay like a knife every day-
I know you won’t, I know you won’t.

Lighting a candle for you every night
Cause I know you are drawn to the flame.
I see your spirit a butterfly flicker-
You won’t cause me pain, you won’t cause me pain.

Fire in the sky if you let him come by
I will pay you back for all that you’ve given me.
Pay you with blood, it’s the ruby of God
I will open myself to you, please!

Lighting a fire, half-deranged by desire
And the stars that are drawing me high.
Thinking of you, like a fire you can burn away
Hands on my throat, lay down or die.

Holding my finger right next to the candle wick-
Strong is the thing I must be,
Just until I can draw you to my flame.
You won’t hurt me. You won’t hurt me.

Cotton soft balls.

I really do love the “The Public” which in astrology is represented by the moon. The Public is a romantic, silvery ooze of limitless possibility. Best of all- from this undifferentiated mass- beings of gold can sometimes appear.

I was really looking forward to writing a blog post today. I could see clearly in every direction. It was going to be a tell-all.

But- due to adding a hundred new facebook friends and writing a flurry of posts- I ended up with so many balls to my head that I could hardly think. Nor could I draw these balls because there were just too many of them. All I could do was to squint my eyes against the pressure and attempt to clean the house while waiting for it to pass. But sometimes balls make me so dizzy it is hard to do physical things. I end up just throwing a towel over my head and waiting for it to pass.

The thing is, I love interacting with people so much. If only there was a way to interact without head balls. It is especially challenging to interact with new people. Sometimes they have spiritual problems to which I’m not yet immune. Spiritual problems are those which warp your perspective on life and make you feel bad about it. Or bad about yourself. The more a person has spiritual problems the more angry they tend to be. They frequently try to push onto others the ideas that are causing them pain. So their balls tend to cause greater disturbance.

Some balls can be refreshing though. They contain wavelengths that can heal your problems without a word being said. They can counteract the noxious influence of bad balls. Once you know someone, and are familiar with their balls, whether they are good or bad doesn’t matter so much. You can get hit with their bad feelings out of the blue, but then easily dismiss them because you know what they are.

Why do these balls hit me on the top of my head though? When my husband interacts with people, I have noticed their energy tends to get lodged in his intestinal area, causing him stomach pain.

Probably because I walk around with a head like an empty bucket, waiting for someone else to tell me what life is about and make sense of it all for me. I know this is wrong, but it is a hard habit to break. Once upon a time- 7 years ago to be exact- I thought everyone was honest and also a sage. I let their ideas go straight to the center of my brain.

Now I realize people are liars & dumb, too. Well, maybe not liars exactly, but plants reaching for the sun. We say whatever it takes to get that sweet sunshine on our face. And maybe not dumb exactly- I still think it takes an insane amount of intelligence to navigate daily life- but let’s get real- we are sheeple. We share the beliefs of those around us so we can belong to a fuzzy wuzzy herd. It feels so good to feel their soft cotton balls rubbing against our cloud of wool.

And really that is the same reason why I open my head like a vessel to receive the thoughts of others. At first it feels so good when they put their thoughts inside. It makes me feel connected, but I’m sure it is the wrong way of going about things.

Life was never meant to be your Home

Step softly now
See their hooded eyes
Keep us close at hand
You may need our quick advice.

But everybody’s watching you
They got a lot to say
Just keep their words within a jar
We’ll open it one day.

After all
Life was never meant to be your home.
Life was never nothing but the road you chose to take.

Step softly now
Feel the hidden hand
Through the bushes it extends to you
The outline of a man.

Then he says “Hide! Duck!
Back up against the van where they can’t see you
Crawl over to the shadows where we’re waiting
For we may be the only ones who need you.”

After all
Life was never meant to be your home.
Life was never nothing but the road you chose to take.

And how do you feel now?
Standing on your own
Like a column made of fire
A feeling that you could be quite alone?

Move swiftly now
Don’t believe you have a friend
They just like to watch you trip and fall
They’ll push you down again.

So quickly run back
Into the alleyway where they can’t see you
Press up against a tree and we will be there
Perhaps we are the only ones who need you.

After all
Life was never meant to be your home.
Life was never nothing but the road you chose to take.

Download: Home

Following Fire

Following fire, half-deranged by desire
Like a zombie I walk through the night.
Every dark alleyway, every car breakaway
Leads in my fantasy somewhere so bright.

Reason, morality- never my gifts;
I had the gift of belief.
I light a fire for you, filled with desire for you-
I know you see. I know you see.

Fire in the sky if you let him come by
I will pay you back for all that you’ve given me.
Pay you with blood, it’s the ruby of God,
I will open myself to you, please!

Following fire, melted down by desire
And the star that I follow is hope.
Making me pay like a knife every day-
I know you won’t, I know you won’t.

Lighting a candle for you every night
Cause I know you are drawn to the flame.
I see your spirit a butterfly flicker-
You won’t cause me pain, you won’t cause me pain.

Fire in the sky if you let him come by
I will pay you back for all that you’ve given me.
Pay you with blood, it’s the ruby of God
I will open myself to you, please!

Lighting a fire, half-deranged by desire
And the stars that are drawing me high.
Thinking of you, like a fire you can burn away
Hands on my throat, lay down or die.

Holding my finger right next to the candle wick-
Strong is the thing I must be,
Just until I can draw you to my flame.
You won’t hurt me. You won’t hurt me.

Download MP3: Following Fire

Frayed Nerves

I feel like something is off with my nerves. While walking down the sidewalk (in daylight), a jogger passed by saying “Excuse me” and I let a blood curdling scream rip into his ears. I didn’t mean to. He didn’t like it. Then a bicyclist rode by on the opposite side of the street, and I accidentally screamed at him as well.

Next, while standing alone with a candle in my hand, I suddenly smashed the candle as hard as I could against the ground. Glass flew everywhere & it broke a window too. (Oopsy!) I don’t know why I did it. My hand just moved faster than my brain could think. Now my recording room is filled with glass and James won’t let me in there since he is convinced I can’t clean it up without getting cut.

After that, I accidentally topped James’s pasta with a thick layer of salt rather than Parmesan cheese. And to make things more bizarre, I discovered I was wearing two pairs of shorts at the same time, one on top of the other. Somehow I hadn’t noticed.

Something is off. But what to do? I secretly tried cleaning the recording room and now my feet feel as though they are filled with glass though that is probably imagination. I have no paper left or else I would draw a picture of a man masturbating in a glass chamber, or maybe a picture of someone bleeding through the hands.

Many things have me unnerved at the moment. One is an incident from the other night. I was taking Slippers out & a car approached, slowing down as it came near me then parking. It gave me the creeps.

James came outside because he had gotten a bad feeling. He walked up to the car but they didn’t see him because they were looking towards me, with one man talking on the phone. He was telling someone that I had my dog with me. Once they saw James they zoomed off.

James thinks they were just random men up to no good and not looking for me specifically. But so many people have come looking for me in the past that I am a little paranoid. Just thinking about it makes my kidneys bubble.

I might be slightly disturbed by my little #metoo moment as well. The fact that none of the very liberal organizations, such as his record label, gave even a cursory response to my story (posted in reply to their tweets about his deep humanity) makes me realize the whole #metoo thing was completely fake. No one cares about sexual assault anymore than they ever have.

Not that I expect them to. Why should they care? This is their golden moment to sell records and selling records is their job- not social justice. But why do people have to fake care? I don’t think it is right to use social issues for personal elevation & branding, especially if you aren’t willing to put out when they land in your own backyard. It would be less confusing if people could just be honest about their true motivations. But why should they be? Wars were never won through transparency.

And what are values really, but the flags we wave to signal tribal affiliation? That is another thing that has been weighing on me- realizing the central role tribes play in human life while also realizing that I have no tribe and probably never will.

Tribes are everything though. Consider music. A musician’s value is judged by how much access they have to the tribes who run the music business. A performer at the Grammy’s is ‘talented’, even if you don’t personally like them. They have a recognized social value. They can trade on this value for resources & protection.

What makes the musical tribes- such as record labels- a little sinister is their efforts to convince people that they are a distillation of America’s best talent, and anything outside their glossy grip is not worth listening to. It is lower tier music that couldn’t make the cut. When in reality these record companies are just families- tribes- with the resources to buy lots of makeup for their members.

Once upon a time, when I thought getting a record contract was important, I submitted blank cds to them, because I had a suspicion the submission process was a sham (I already had experience with this sort of thing from my time in the art world.)

And of course, they all sent me back polite rejection letters, telling me that my music was not what they were looking for. So why lie? Because they need to pretend to be meritocracies in order to monopolize people’s musical imaginations. They need to pretend they have already searched out the “good” music so people won’t feel the need to search for themselves. This lie hurts music.

So, anyway, I guess feelings of mounting threats along with a growing awareness of my precarious position in society has me feeling on edge. Or maybe it is something else entirely. The problem is, when you are blogging with your actual name you are doomed to share only the most superficial aspects of your life. I wish I had thought of that from the beginning. I would have given myself the name Lacey Pendleton and she would do a complete Tell All. That would be paradise. But instead I am forever stuck in the gray zone, balancing an urge to express with a need to survive.

Oppossums have been showing up everywhere. Does that mean anything? This one is in the back yard. It is pregnant & you can see the curly little baby tails hanging beneath her stomach.

David Berman of the Silver Jews- Grabbing them by the Pussy


Although I wasn’t familiar with his music, I read about David Berman in a UVA alumni magazine & a friend of mine told me that he was famous & living in Nashville, so I thought that was cool and invited him to play a show with me.

He showed up with a little posse and a smoke machine, since- rather than singing- he wanted to recite poetry with smoke blowing behind him. I remember feeling sorry for him, standing on the stage with smoke blowing behind him, as though the need of a smoke machine made him pathetic somehow.

It is usually a bad sign when I feel sorry for someone. Clinton, Weiner, Epstein, Weinstein- most sexual predators trigger pangs of pity in me and I don’t even know why. Crossed wires, probably.

And then of course, feeling pity for a man makes me feel guilty, since I imagine men don’t want to be seen as pitiful, which causes me to twist my mind into a state of deep admiration, just in case they can sense my thoughts. I always feel responsible for boosting men’s self-esteem as though they are little boys and I am their nanny. If they look stupid, I feel pain.

Anyway, after the show he walked up to me where I was sitting on a stool and stuck his hand up my skirt real fast and grabbed me on the flesh at which point animal consciousness took over and I started kicking him. There were at least six people watching, but maybe more.

I don’t remember what happened after that except that one of his posse was trying to calm me down and make sure I didn’t call the cops since, as he said, Berman had a beautiful wife at home and this would break her heart etc etc. Berman too was a troubled man with a heart of gold and they would make sure to straighten him out. He also said what Berman did was really really bad which was useful information for me since on my own I might not have figured it out. After all, my husband was one of the people watching and I don’t recall him saying anything about the incident or being particularly concerned.

(Which, in retrospect, makes sense considering that he got me to marry him by grabbing my crotch as we were zooming down the highway on the way to what I thought was a spiritual retreat. Then he said I needed to marry him because sexual contact outside of marriage was wrong.)

All in all, the Berman incident didn’t loom large in my mind. If it hadn’t been for the posse member talking me into not calling the cops (which I wouldn’t have done anyway, considering that I had a supernatural fear of police plus no concept that forcing hands into privates was a crime) I might not even remember it. It just seemed to blend into the general spirit of the time. I even sent Berman a Christmas card afterwards. How embarrassing.

But for some reason, a few days ago, I was telling my current husband about it, and he wanted to beat Berman up, so I googled him and found that he had hanged himself a couple weeks prior. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it all. My husband said he wouldn’t be surprised if someone had offed him.

And then I was reading the articles about his poetry & music which all seemed to agree that above all, David Berman was a symbol of goodness and decency. Maybe he was, who knows? Goodness & decency have always creeped me out.

*

P.S. Though I always considered this incident to be quite minor, with no impact, in some respect it (along with other incidents) maybe did have the stereotypical impact on me.

I assumed I was basically asking for these things, considering I was wearing a skirt and also a lace camisole on top of my polo shirt. So I reconsidered my clothing choices.

I assumed I was pretty much asking for it by singing songs about mating with rabbits and making love to plants and fathers. So I tried to tone down the sexual content of my songs which (as a Scorpio) just meant writing less in general.

I assumed I was pretty much asking for it by hanging out in slimy bars at night. So, it *possibly* played a role in my decision to stop performing.

I assumed I was pretty much asking for it by interacting with males so much in general, although that couldn’t be helped since they made up the bulk of the music world. For a long time, I tried to avoid interacting with males at all to avoid giving the impression that I was a pervert.

But I don’t know. I am just thinking about this now for the first time. For some reason I never really thought about it until I found out he was dead.