Strange Pulse

And no, I’m not talking about doom metal, although it kinda fits. (I don’t find it depressing.) I’m talking about the sort of books I like to read.

One of my favorite authors is Pat Conroy, author of The Prince of Tides and The Lords of Discipline. I think one reason I like him is his stories are rather autobiographical, and his family is one of the few I’ve heard of that’s actually more screwed up than mine.

He’s a great writer, but his stories really suck you into the dark side of humanity. Although, his first book, The Water is Wide, is a fascinating true account of his experience teaching at a school in a remote island down south. Highly recommended.

I just finished reading two books. One I picked up at a bookstore because it was on sale, it’s also an Oprah book club book, so you know it’s going to be dark, depressing and brutal. A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. It’s his memoir of being in rehab. He was a crack addict and alcoholic, and he was only 23. It’s written in an interesting way, he’s got an unusal writing style, and I found it very compelling.

The other book I just read is a new one by another favorite author of mine, Torey Hayden. She works with emotionally disturbed and other troubled children. She has several books about children she’s worked with, and they’re all great. Well, if you like that kind of thing. I used to want to become a child psychologist and work with emotionally disturbed kids, I find it fascinating, what they’ll do to cope with horrible things happening to them. Her latest book is called Twilight Children, and it’s as good as all the rest of her books.

One of the things I like about her is that you know most of what she’s recounting is going to be accurate. Memoirs are stories I don’t really trust–because I know how inaccurate my own memory can be, I don’t see how people can really portray things truthfully in a memoir. But when Hayden first started working with kids, she kept a journal and took notes of her days, which is how she started writing the books in the first place. She later started videotaping her sessions working with kids, so you know they’re accurate.

Not a band I’d usually go see (the Warlocks), I just went to take some pictures for a ‘zine. They were ok–I liked the two opening bands better.

Here’s some pics.

Ariel Pink

Gris Gris

Warlocks

I have an auditory processing disorder (APD). Basically, I can have a hard time processing what I hear. I can hear it fine. It just won’t compute.

It seems to get worse when I’m tired–or at the end of the day, after I’ve had auditory overload. I’ve never been officially diagnosed so I don’t actually know a whole lot about it. I just know I can’t always take in stuff that I hear.

Except music. Which explains why I’m so obsessed with it.

I get home from work between 7:30 and 8:00 pm. As soon as I walk in the door, I’m bombarded with noise–usually it’s the tv blaring, that grates on me. It takes a lot of effort for me to deal with that. But I never turn it off. The kids start talking to me right away, usually asking questions.

“Can I….?” “When is…?” “When are we going to…?” “What are…?”

I don’t know what they’re saying, but I can tell by the tone of their voices that they’re asking questions. Sometimes when I’m having trouble processing, it just takes a few seconds/minutes for it to register. But I’m sometimes so tired when I first get home that it just doesn’t work at all.

And often, I have a hard time speaking too. One of my kids will ask me something, and my answer goes something like:

“I don’t–I can’t–I just–I don’t know. I’m too tired.”

Here’s what it’s like. The other night my son asked me a question. I heard it. My brain was blank. I waited to see if it would register. Blank. Nothing. It’s really frustrating, hearing someone say something and not knowing what it is. And I said, “I can’t answer any questions right now.”

I’m a magnet for a couple of different things. One of them is being spit or spilled on.

Once as a teen I was waiting with my friend, my older brother, and some of his friends, for my dad to pick us up in downtown Seattle after a concert. It was probably about midnight, and we were at a McDonald’s. I was standing out on the sidewalk, and my brother and his friends were inside having ice cream cones. Some guy walked by and spit on me.

I don’t remember what he looked like. I just remember going inside, and one of my brother’s friends wanted to go after the guy. The other of my brother’s friends just shrugged and ignored me. He was always ignoring me.

Which I love to point out, now that we’re married.

In the early 90’s I went to very few shows, but one I saw was a Seattle band called Grunt Truck. They were doing a benefit for earthquake victims, and to get in you just had to donate a few cans of food. (Which is why we went–basically a free show.) I was very pregnant at the time with our third child. The band was pretty popular, but they were playing a really small venue/bar, so we got there early and were one of the first people in. Because people lined up so early, the venue let them in early, so everyone had extra time to get extra loaded. I was sitting on some stairs (in the back the venue had a slightly raised platform) with my big pregnant belly, and some guy walked by, spilling his drink all over my chest and big pregnant belly.

At least this guy stopped and apologized. And insisted on buying me and my big pregnant belly a drink. I kept refusing, but he was sloshed and kept insisting. Then he offered to buy me and my big pregnant belly a cracker. If you don’t know, that’s nitrous oxide (laughing gas). Then he pulled out a five dollar bill, which I was going to refuse as well, but my husband snatched it up, said “OK, thanks!” and the guy left us alone.

What I remember most vividly from that night was going to pick up the kids from my in-laws’ after the show, and I was reeking of alcohol.

The next story kind of combines both of the previous ones. A couple years ago we went down to Portland for a weekend-long stoner rock music festival–basically three days of bands playing in a small bar non-stop.

You know how some guys like to take big swigs of their beer and then spit it at the band? Somehow, I’m always standing near those guys. And occasionally, right in front of them. Some guy totally sprayed me. Spit beer all over me and my camera. Yeah, he was aiming for the band and missed.

I’m kinda glad I couldn’t tell who did it because my husband would’ve gone after him (that time).

I’m also a magnet for the tallest people at shows–they always end up standing right in front of me (I’m short), which is why I always try to stand against the stage. (Plus I’m old and need something to lean against.) But the funnest thing I’m always a magnet for at shows is violence. If a fight breaks out, you can bet I’m standing right next to the guys getting all agro. It doesn’t matter where I stand for that–it’s happened against the stage, it’s happened in the back. It’s happened in the middle. Always, it’s the guys standing right next to me.

The other day, my boss said to me, “You’re the coolest Mormon I’ve ever met.”

My reply was, “I get that a lot.”

And I think it’s kind of sad. For the record, I’m not cool at all. I’m dorky.

But as my husband likes to say, people who think they’re cool are dorky. People who think they’re dorky are cool. Ha. Crazy but true. (The story of my life.)

I was listening to this Ben Folds Five song that always cracks me up, “The Battle of Who Could Care Less.” It’s about a guy who has a friend who just doesn’t care about anything, and he thinks his friend is cool and wants to be that way, too. But if you care about being that way, you can never be that way. It cracks me up.

I’ve been on both sides of that fence. And I’d say these days, I’m way more on the not caring side.

My favorite lines in the song:

Well this should cheer you up for sure.
See, I found your old ID, and you’re all dressed up like the Cure.

This is the reason that’s funny.

Here’s all the lyrics. Song is posted to the radio.blog, top right. (Warning, one f-word in it.)

BTW, James Garner rules.

In my experience, that kind of statement has been followed with:

• Your sister attempted suicide. She’s in the hospital.
• Your uncle is in prison for molesting young girls.
• You have diabetes.
• I’m gay.
• Your brother has cancer.
• Your foster brother-in-law is in jail for molesting his infant sons.
• Your brother is dead.
• I’m pregnant. (My fifteen year old niece who was living with us at the time.)
• Your sister died this morning.
• I’m in jail. Can you come bail me out.
• Your niece has to testify against the man who raped her tomorrow. (I didn’t get any kind of warning on that one, had no idea my niece had been assaulted. Different niece than above.)
• We’re helping your niece move her stuff out because her husband beat her up. Yes. He kicked her in the face. Can you come help?
• I have nowhere to live, I got kicked out of my apartment, I have to leave tonight. Can I stay with you?
• You have a cousin who had a sex change.

Haha. OK, so I’m getting away from the “sit down while I break it to you” revelations. But you get the idea.

Not to belittle anyone’s feelings, because there are some who deserve to feel hurt and betrayed by the Banner of Heaven prank, but “You know that blog you’ve been posting comments to, sharing your personal experiences? It’s a fake” is not even anywhere near to being on my radar for upsetting news.

I guess it’s all a matter of perspective, and everything’s relative. And my relatives have definitely changed my perspective.

I need help decyphering some lyrics. Damien Dempsey has one of the worst accents I’ve ever heard–even worse than Billy Bragg. (But it’s all part of their charm.) He’s Irish, if that helps with any weird slang he may be using.

Here’s what I can make out so far. Can anyone help me fill in the rest?

Factories by Damien Dempsey

Factories, trains, and houses
The playground of my youth
The place that left me mute (?)
Till I threw back my shoulders

Factories, trains, and houses
The place that makes songs/sons? strong
And hurries you along?
Some grow old very quick there

??
??
The glass and bottle fights
We saw some crazy nights
But then fights still excite you ??

??
I knew lads who died
That song chills me inside still

Oh junction come take you away
And in the hay fields we’d squandered the day
And from the corner of Holywell Road (rows? rose?)
See the sunset over St Donna’s
See the sunset over us all
See the sunset over St Donna’s

Some boys want to get me
Because I hit one back
I still can hear the crack
Of his head on the concrete

Doing drugs and drinking
Makes you so depressed
Then you think you’re blessed
When you’re dropping ???

Trouble ?? and fighting
Makes you sad you know
And Mommy had to go
Sure it’s best in the long run

Oh junction come take you away
And in the hay fields we’d squander the day
And from the corner of Holywell Road
See the sunset over St Donna’s
See the sunset over us all
See the sunset over St Donna’s
See the sunset over the world

I posted the song to the radio.blog.

Maybe you’ve seen that video floating around the net of the new world champion Rubik’s Cube speedsolver, solving the cube in under 10 seconds? Well, I’ve got something better than that. My own son, solving it in about a minute!

Better, because he has a spotlight and music.

Download and view here:

http://qsysue.tagplazen.org/nathaniel/rubiksmaster.MPG

When I was a kid, I had an imaginary friend named Tina. But I think I created her more because I thought it was cool to have an imaginary friend than any for other reason. Although I do remember talking to her when I was feeling lonely.

But my youngest son Elijah had the real thing. He has a very vivid imagination. When he was little, like about 5, he had a lot of imaginary friends. He never referred to them as imaginary. They were just his friends, who happened to be named Elijah 2 and Elijah 3.

But the best was his imaginary dad, which he called his New Dad. Elijah’s New Dad drove his Real Dad nuts. Whenever Daniel would say something Elijah didn’t like, Elijah would say something along the lines of, “Oh yeah? Well my NEW Dad lets me do whatever I want!”

Daniel got so fed up with it one day, he decided to take Elijah’s New Dad down a peg or two. But as you’ll see, he was no match for Elijah’s New Dad.

Elijah: “My NEW Dad”–he always said it like that, emphasis on “new”–”My NEW Dad lives in Tokyo.”

Daniel: “No he doesn’t. He’s dead.”

Elijah: “He is not!”

Daniel: “Yes he is. I killed him. He’s gone.”

Elijah: “No he’s not! He’s bigger than 100 buildings!”

Daniel: “He’s dead. I killed him and buried him.”

Elijah: “You can’t kill him! He’s a robot!”

Daniel: “I took him apart.”

Elijah: “That doesn’t matter. His pieces know how to go back together again!”

Daniel gave up.

Another of my all-time faves. I knew them a bit as a teenager because my brother was really into them. And they have some awesome songs from the 80’s. Really tremendously good stuff.

But it’s their album Amplified Heart that is my favorite album of all time. I’ve listened to that album over and over and over again, and I never get sick of it. One of the things I love about Tracey Thorn is how effortless she makes singing seem.

Every song on this album is excellent, and there’s a few I can really identify with, such as the one that goes:

With your troubled mind, you’re like a goods train running through my life

But I went with a song that both Ben Watt and Tracy sing on–I love it when they both sing–”Walking to You.” My favorite lines:

You spent your time on me,
I took it willingly,
And I made you trust in literature.