This is a list of rock music genres consisting of subgenres of popular music that have roots in 1940s’ and 1950s’ rock and roll, and which developed into a distinct identity as rock music in the 1960s, particularly in the United Kingdom and the United States.
When I saw this pop up on my suggested videos, I was surprised to see there was an official video and had completely forgotten about a song that used to make me feel quite tough. It doesn’t make me feel the same way it used to. His image also takes something away from it for me.
I feel like I have more to say about this but no time at the moment.
There are two man-children living in my house. The first one is my fault, he is my brother, and after several tragic events in our lives, I take pity on him and try my best to ensure he sticks around for the rest of our family, and myself of course. The other, is getting on my last nerve. He is a long time acquaintance. I can’t say that we have ever been really good friends but due to my many defense mechanisms, I can’t say I have many real friends these days. This post is going to be about that one, his name is Harley. It is actually James but he goes by a nickname or his middle name, I am not even sure – but that alone is slightly shady if you ask me.
He finds himself in the strangest predicaments and I don’t think his attitude towards life helps him much. He needed a place to stay last January because his polyamory relationship with a married couple, that he was living with started to decline quickly. I can only imagine he started acting like he ran the place without paying for a thing, but that’s just an educated guess – I really have no idea what the issue was.
We met back in 2001, when I was working at a Subway in a gas station in NB and he was working at the Hastings. The population of NB was just under 40K back then and there were far less options when it came to shopping. He ate at that Subway and I shopped at Hastings so much, we became friends.
He and I didn’t really keep in touch but ran into each other from time to time. He was living in my neighborhood, next door to a friend many years later and we ran into each other again. Now that Social Media was prevalent, we kept in touch.
Fast forward several years to where he is now my resident couch boy. He was doing the dishes and mopping the floors incessantly, but something changed that and he stopped abruptly. He has been asking me for money nearly daily for vape juice, coils and kratom but I finally put my foot down when I accidentally bounced a rent payment because so may people were “borrowing” money from me, I couldn’t even keep up anymore. I was fortunate to have the needed money in uncashed checks, but my broke as friends were starting to take advantage of me.
He hasn’t asked me for money since, but whenever I say something, he argues. This guy is a self proclaimed feminist, so I badly want to call him out when he mansplains why it is okay for him to smoke his vaporizer in my closet next to hand-made 30 year old dresses that my grandmother made me that I do not plan to ever wash again. My take on that is, if you are in my house for free, have your office set up in my closet and vape constantly to the point where all of my clothes smell now and I ask you to stop, you should just fucking stop, even if you are the scientist behind vape juice and know that it ‘disappears’ and leaves behind no residue.. I don’t want to hear about it, I want you to listen.
I may have an inferiority complex, I may be controlling – but I am not a charity that is obligated to care for disrespectful men that feel they are better than everyone else but can’t even support themselves.
He used to donate plasma for his income but since my subsidies were cut off, he got a job at AJs BBQ. He owes me quite a bit of money since he claimed he was borrowing those daily $30 transactions but I have not seen a dollar yet. He doesn’t buy food for the house. He doesn’t share and no longer cleans. I hate to break it to him but he is not here so I can check out his fine midget body. Pardon my unruly attitude but he better start doing something to make himself useful.
Today the argument was because at 3 PM I turned some faint lights on in my living room so that I could walk through there without tripping. He had the audacity to ask me if he could turn them off and when I said no and explained I want to be able to walk through my house without tripping he tried to explain to me that I am never in there – I had to bit my tongue not to be more rude. The reason I am never in there is because its pitch black and full of all of his shit. I feel like I am losing control over my house and this type of thing just stresses me out.
‘Cause when I look around
Album: Little Plastic Castle
I think this, this is good enough
And I try to laugh
At whatever life brings
‘Cause when I look down
I just miss all the good stuff
And when I look up
I just trip over things
And I got no illusions about you
Once upon a time thoughts of you
Are picketing my brain
They refuse to work
Such long hours without rest
In unstable conditions at best
They’re out there every day
Holding up there signs
And thoughts of no other man but you
Could possibly get through
The picket lines to enter into my mind
Listening to the songs below just remind me of the days that I longed to be in love. I couldn’t wait until these songs meant more to me and now, I am deathly afraid of it, so much so, that I have grown complacent and have no desire to talk to others. Throwing me into a room full of men and a butch lesbian and a ghetto 50 year old married woman was a cruel and unusual punishment, but it will ensure that I do not fall victim to whatever manipulator roles up into the local phone company. I have so many mixed feelings that I feel awful saying, but I fell in love with the young kids soon – and I an afraid that was the plan all along.
Anyone would be mad at how many Melissa Etheridge cruises I could have gone on if I wasn’t supporting so many people. Somehow there is always a leach and I feel like it is getting painfully obvious.
I feel like my brother is feeling guilty for his mental state and dependency on me so he is leaving to Seattle and I can only support him and hope he makes good decisions. I am going to make sure he gets a roommate place when he gets there and pay for the first month and I sure as hell hope he can take it from there because a room for rent up in Seattle is $700 and if I am paying for rent in Seattle, it is going to be real painful to pay my rent here too. Then there is my ex and the kids – they should be leaving by July 25th, because from what I understand there is someone waiting to move in there. That will be a relief and a stressed too. I will be worried about my minor and adult children as they are out of site, but that’s fine really. I need a damn break.
I have talked to the person that recorded this a few times online. She talked to me about my Melissa Etheridge videos from New Braunfels, but I have started to notice that she has thousands of videos. She is clearly no amateur. I want to ask her what she does but I am not that assertive. I couldn’t even bring myself to send it to her, I only mentioned it as casually as possible. The truth is, when I stumbled across it, I felt my pulse accelerate until I could feel my heart beat in my throat. Due to currently technology, my brain deiced to measure it, because math and history – well, 120 bpm is how this recording makes me feel even though the sound quality is tricky. It’s on a cruise ship, think about the limitations.
I shall now refer to Bishop as the great divide.. not really but tonight I will.
When I was younger and started to listen to what I would call Lesbian Music despite the fact that many were not lesbians at all, I meant wymen rock or something – I don’t know the correct term but I have seen it come up in Ani Difranco’s book, however the other term seems more derogatory to me – this isnt the WNBA here, these are international rock stars.
This is the first time I have listened to these songs in the last 6+ years… I am sorry that they mean so much to me. I guess this is what sorry – not sorry means.. I really can’t put into words how listening to these songs feels and I know that I shouldn’t – so there’s that.
What is San Francisco like this time of year? Are pitbulls welcome?
I would dial the numbers
Just to listen to your breath
I would stand inside my hell
And hold the hand of death
You don’t know how far I’d go
To ease this precious ache
You don’t know how much I’d give
As I listened to the album, Dilate, way too many times, I start to pay more attention to a few lines at the end.
Somehow, all of my thoughts flow as I drive in my car, but at home I am rarely alone with my thoughts these days, so they will have to wait, I guess.
My brother is planning on leaving to Seattle in a week. I have mixed feelings about it all – but I am keeping on my attempt to trust people in what they need, so I am supporting him and helping him get on his feet there. All while fearing that something will happen to him or Grandma while he is gone. That may be that PTSD limiting my life again. I am glad that he can get past it or doesn’t have a fear of loss, whichever it is.