Transverse Myelitis

Have been in hospital for almost two weeks. Lost all feeling in legs and hands now too, and pain in back and hands has increased to 11.
Am in hospital until I can walk and take care of myself. Neurological disease called Transverse Myelitis. One in a million people get it. Docs know nothing really. Am unable to think straight, although mental acuity is returning bit by bit. Suddenly lost all ability to move my lower limbs, three hours after the onset and trip to the ER  lost movement in hands. Cannot go home until I can walk some with my walker. Am up to painful shuffling: a foot at a time using the walker. Can’t fall, cracking my skull. This had already happened in the several weeks preceding. Not sure it would matter.

THIS is the year of the unexpected disease! Watch your back kids.
p.s. didn’t remember how to log in and post. Now that is fucked up.
I may walk in 2 or three weeks. Or never. Oh physical rehab how I do love thee

My friends are passing through Reno to Burning Man. I am missing my 9th year. I hurt. This is fucking depressing as hell. The steroids made me psychotic. Literally

Hospital food is hideous. No one visits because this place is out in the boonies. I need ice cream, cobbler, sweets, a decent cup of coffee.

Okay Done Ranting and Rambling. Burn On kids!

~Miss R

Why You No Call? The Children Miss You. I wanna slap you upside the head.

Said no one to me ever. I DO wanna slap you upside the head. You being the Royal You. Similar to the Royal We but spelled Oui. Now it time for a kick ass make-up of days offline. Laissez les bons temps rouler!
Note to Le Clown: This is New Orleans (Cajun) French so don’t be going and gagging at it. I beg your magnificent forgiveness for great times and awful grammar. Speaking only English, Russian and German (which is handy) just recognizing French is fab for moi. Another story for another day.

Changed my wireless/router name to ‘Stephen Hawking Is Locked In My Basement.’ I have no life.
Neither does Stephen….
I DO know how to party. Even without the booze I scare small children. My own is damaged for life. But she looks Mahhhhhvalous.
Please, won’t you help a starving disturbed family? Please send all of your cash to…. me. Information located at page bottom.

Have been so busy with work parties and the Demon Seed’s visit that there are 705 Unopened emails in my inbox. I see a mass delete coming.

Burning Man tickets came in the mail for both myself and my daughter.

an average playa dust storm

Many of you know what happened to my lovely girl demon seed last year. She is coming on back anyway. My sweetie told me ‘Mom, I am NOT going to let some deranged freak ruin what is one of the best weeks I’ve ever had.’ That’s my doll. Saw her last week.
Was supposed to visit her in San Francisco this week. Damned money, or rather lack of, is ass.

We’ve all (Spanky’s Wine Bar and Village) started the yearly mass work-parties up in the Nevada desert to do maintenance, rebuild and build new big kid toys for the camp. Think carnival rides for pervs AND kids. No really, THINK about it.
We have the Teeter Totter of Death, centrifuge (the merry-go-round you push and pull to get spinning) Chairway to Heaven, and two new rides this year.
Having the Orgasmatron for the 15th year on the playa is just icing. We’re not called Spanky’s based on the Little Rascals films.

Here’s a video of our Spank-O-Matic

Okay, just wanted to check in. Miss all of you, all of your writing, all of your smiles. I need ’em. Giving them out for free too.

Rock On Kids. Off to 4th of Juplaya in another week. Hidden Hot Springs on the playa, 1500 people instead of the 60,000 at Burning Man. Firearms, Frogbat… I’ll take a few pics. Spanky’s is making an official presence this year.
No one is in charge of this thing so no one is ever arrested. How cool is that?

Fuck I love summer.

Springtime in Reno!

Been busy freaking out (Chic! Le Freak!) so here’s a post that I liked and didn’t seem to garner a lot of readers when I first wrote it. Now re-presented in all it’s glory,

Springtime for Hobos in Germany! Reno!

ittle Nugget Reno

the famous (and infamous)Little Nugget in Reno. NOTE: guy in picture NOT a hobo

Not sure if you’ve noticed but the increase in hobos? At least here in Reno . It’s Spring-time!

Sadly not trampoline-spring-like but season-Spring-like.

The sewer grates are no longer frozen closed and the parking garages have already had cars broken into. Not to steal a stereo. To piss in. Maybe take a nap as well. Hopefully the latter first. At least when I lived in Brooklyn they just stole your stereo and broke your window. Which is why only a cretin has a car in New York City.

Please pay attention to the examples of Springtime for Hobos and Germany as  there will not be a test later. These are the finest in Reno Hobo quotes of the last few days.

1.” Can I mow your lawn? If it gets any longer it’s very bad for the yard ” Lawn? Are you fucking kidding me? Big-ass Weed patch is a kind description. Then noted that the hobo has no lawn mower or shears. Pretty sure this guy was the ACTUAL Green River killer. Told him that the herd of hobo-eating goats would be here within 24 hours.

2. “You do realize that your house number has to painted on your curb to confirm to law? I’m willing to splash water color numbers using paint from my filthy, inbred, homeless F student’s paint set using this stolen stencil from the Dollar Store . For $5.00.”. Almost fell for this one.
Too bad for this guy; was going to trade him a can of Sterno and a piece of white bread but I’d already used those items to trade for a car wash by another hobo. You should have seen him. Hauling buckets of water from the back yard.Told him the hose was broken and the only water was around back of the house,then through the mud, and out on to the street. Heh. There are actually three spigots along the front of the house. They’re hidden by the weeds that I refused to pay Hobo Number One to cut down.

3.” KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!” There’s a sign on the door (placed Prominently) that says Please Ring Bell. If you are that illiterate yet are still able to find Thunderbird and a shopping cart  to perambulate along the boulevard you are a hobo. And I’m not getting off of my beautiful little ass to answer the door for stupid people. This includes family. Hell, hope it wasn’t Zombie Ed McMahon with that 10 Million dollar check. Hmmmm.

4.  The well-known alkies in front of the ‘Little Nugget’ downtown. Home of the  famous Awful Awful burger and BEST burger in town. Normally there are a group of hobos collected here, only because the Little Nugget (yes there is a big Nugget but that’s another blog) can’t afford the outside security available at Harrah’s, The El Dorado, Circus Circus  or any other of the more upscale casinos in town. Actually the Little Nugget Hobos are off about 10 feet from the front door of the Casino.
I give these hobos my left-over burger and fries. Trust me, these are the  high-end Hobos. Well-fed. Usually have a little booze, a kind word (as opposed to the usual grunt or attempted wolf-whistle; difficult with 7 teeth). Speaking of which I’ve noticed a higher ratio of teeth-to-Hobo on these guys.
Have a  good friend that gave them $5.00 one time; to split between them for some booze. Have no idea how many were kneed that night in the melee.
No not really. There was no fight. Above mentioned friend TK asked which among the group was their leader. After some head lice scratching, beard fumbling, apparent concentration one of the men stood tall and announced ‘I’m the leader.’  TK handed the Hobo the fiver and told him to get a bottle to split amongst he and his friends. A cheer went up and we made a lot of Hobos very happy that night.
That man, leader of the Little Nugget pack, truly is…..King of the Hobos.

So one day, if you’re in Reno looking for a dive to play slots at, the best burger for a 100 miles and good strong cheap drinks remember me. No really. At this rate I’ll be there (outside) with my melodica, flute and a hat to collect tips.

Don’t feel sorry for me. Just save some fries and half of your burger; easy to do. An Awful-Awful can feed two easily.
Really, anything for a half of an Awful-Awful.
Especially after 2: 00 a.m.

And maybe, just maybe, someday I’ll be Queen of  The Hobos!

~Miss R

A Serious Post from your usually Not Serious Bi Polar Writer

I was generously offered the opportunity to write a guest post for one of my favorite sites, Black Box Warnings. Some of you may have already  read the piece, but it is under my name, not YoYo-Dyne.

I hesitate to post it here, as it is very personal and not YoYo-Dyne material. It deals with mental illness and Bi-Polar Disorder, and not in my usual passing manner.

If you are interested you can find it here. http://blackboxwarnings.wordpress.com/2013/06/03/heavy-mental-2/

Thank you to my readers… this post will probably cost me a few heh. Damn, I just hit 1000 readers/follows this weekend too. Yay me!

Take Care,

~Miss R

ACK! Hairballs and Beautiful Big Babes

Bill the Cat ACK!

My terrific tuchas was seated, preparing to start in on this blog. Today’s diatribe had been pondered and expanded in the dark, humorous and still functioning portion of my neo-cortex.  Suddenly from behind came the dreaded, soul stealing, inspiration killing sound of… HORK.
It was Lizzie Borden, known deranged Queen of Inbred Persian Catdom, spewing forth hairball goodness. On the bedspread. The new beige bedspread.

This morning I’d decided to write a piece on body image. Specifically the obsession with impossibly thin women and men. Such a post it was to be! Complete with Fabulous Fotos of Fine-Ass Fatties, the beauty of individuality, sexy attire for all bodies and finally words of encouragement, help and empowerment.

Apparently it wasn’t meant happen. After hauling the bedspread down to the basement I couldn’t stop laughing.
The basement furnace (circa 1928) is where I incinerate the junk mail,  Jehovah’s Witnesses religious pamphlets and occasional census taker forms. After staring at the furnace the bedspread was dumped into the washing machine.

We’ll give the beauty and pain post another go tomorrow.
Remember: When life gives you cat vomit make cat vomit milk shakes!*

~Miss R

*Note: This flavor no longer endorsed to bring the boys to your yard

Currently listening:
House: Original Television Soundtrack

Fuckin’ A Fridays: Zombie Edition

It’s Fuckin’ A Fridays!
Resurrected for your enjoyment. Now With More Brrraaaaains

Eternal pursuit of happiness

This week’s Interweb assemblage has been garnered via hours of intensive research. avoidance of the human race, procrastination (designing a new header for the blog), physically taxing duties (returning texts) and resisting the incursion and retreat of De Gaulle. And his bladder.

All the while sparing no expense, and at the risk of great bodily harm. Yes!
Dangerously and precariously balanced on the table next to Laptop Command Central totters the aging, dusty and cat hair entombed Stack of Death. A horrifying site of deforestation comprised of collection notices, medical bills, pleas for donations (sucks to be you), credit card offers from banks unaware of Miss R’s credit score, SSD paperwork, Medicare paperwork, and the abomination of them all: a six by 9 inch stack of papers, scraps of papers, and plasticized pieces of paper we like to call To Be Filed.

Never venturing far from YoYo-Dyne’s Secret Underground Bunker located somewhere in Reno, underground, here are the funniest and most amusingly WTF items uncovered this week.

einstein funnySource

Have finally managed to save time when visitors come by and want to ‘play’ my piano

How to play Jaws

Read one of those ubiquitous online directives ‘Pick up the book closest to you. Turn to Page 45. The first complete sentence describes your sex life for 2013.’  What I found was “Don’t hold your breath trying to get through.” How do it know?!

pulp fiction memeSource

That’s it for today. Tune in next week for the continuing saga ‘Getting Off Your Adorable Ass and Accomplishing Something Creative.’ Followed by our new segment ‘Defenestration, Power Bills, and You!’

~Miss R

Clean-up on Aisle 4! Today’s 12 Step Boogie Lesson

Just celebrated a Sobriety Birthday. Took a chip at my fave Reno meeting; sponsor and friends cheering me on. Feel free to have a drink in my honor.
Will be there in spirit(s).
Join me in a double espresso if you’re stopping by the house.

sober humor rachael TK

Currently working on Step 4:

“Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves”

If you’re familiar with 12 step programs you’ll know that this particular portion of  the journey is considered to be the most frightening, emotional and difficult. The point of working The Steps is to bring a person to freedom and happiness.
The freedom of bondage from self. Or self-will run riot as the 12 Steps say.
Or, the freedom that allows you to happily live in your own skin, as I say.
Knowing an ease of living which allows the organic occurrence of self will to spill naturally: the pursuit of helping others, recognizing the joyful incidents in life,  and by being an example to those who seek guidance and help them to recover from the disease of alcoholism.
The book Alcoholics Anonymous states that upon completion of all 12 steps the addict will find a ‘spiritual awakening’.  I’m an atheist so that phrase doesn’t resonate with me.

Freedom from my own past mistakes, guilt, blame, the ability to keep from repeating the same idiotic decisions over and over, and the selflessness resulting will allow me to be of maximum service to others. To stop hating myself.
By helping other people we get out of our own problems. It works both ways. Good deal.

Instead of following the suggestions of this program verbatim  I re-configure the phrase ‘spiritual awakening’ to reflect what we’re all looking for: Replacing the fear and anger which cause selfish acts and self-loathing with acceptance,  gratitude, humility and helpfulness to others. We have to fill the void left by self-medication to dull life and pain. Believe I read somewhere that nature abhors a vacuum. Or cats abhor them. Eh, either way.

I don’t believe Alcoholics Anonymous should be considered a work inscribed in stone.   The flatline in membership over the past few years can surely be traced to the rigidity of many local groups, and the General Services Council. Recently both Toronto and Kansas City threw out the agnostic/atheist meetings previously listed on their schedules.

There are as many specialized meetings available (in larger cities at any rate), as there are diverse groups in society as a whole. If you Google for a local meeting schedule you’ll find fellowship groups geared towards LGBT, Pagans, Doctors, Lawyers, Men Only, Women Only, Teens and many other special or minority interests.

The idea that being an agnostic or atheist precludes a person from finding sobriety, and doesn’t belong in 12 Step literature, meetings and groups is frightening. It’s not just showing prejudice, it is showing ignorance and most importantly it keeps people away who want help.

The ‘Big Book,’ as we alkies refer to the tome Alcoholics Anonymous, explicitly states that we are a fellowship and
The ONLY requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking.

Big Book Thumpers (think religious fundamentalists and zealots) make me deranged. You’ll find them all over the world. “By the blood of Jesus Christ and the power of Alcoholics Anonymous I am sober today!”
Holy crap Batman.
Not my style. A huge turn off if you are Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Pagan and particularly non theist or deist. Importantly, being physically sober doesn’t make you happy. It doesn’t cure your woes. Without tools to aid us we’re just dry drunks. You know them. Sober but still all kinds of fuckered up, inherently unhappy and pissed off at the world.
Why bother then?! Unless you dig that whole cross and nails thing.

The salient point of Step 4, and finding peace and sanity, is making an inventory.
In writing.
This is similar to what any business owner must do annually. If you’ve ordered items that don’t sell you’ve got to let them go.  I’m having a fire sale this month.

Step 4 is a literal inventory of character defects as opposed to an inventory of the items in a store. Such as that pallet of board games which turned out to be one of the dumbest purchases you’ve made that season.
Don’t ask me how I can relate to this metaphor so well.

I hear virtually all of you saying “Surely not! Miss R? Character Defects? Blasphemy!” Yes it’s true.

In order to be happy joyous and free (but still cheap nyuk nyuk nyuk) life has to be lived with rigorous honesty. Except with the IRS. I’m not talking about ‘cash register’ honesty. Have always had that.
This rigorous honesty has to be with myself. Which sucks. No more two day pity parties complete withblack balloons, Ben and Jerry’s, fabulous playlists of my favorite depressing music, and of course the number one offender: Not seeing my part in most past bad situations.

As a veteran of the sobriety wars my original 4th Step was completed 17 years ago. Think there must have been at least 140 items on the list. Today that list consists of less than 30 items, probably closer to 25.  Mercifully all of the years I was clean and sober did some good and a lot of information stuck.

Making the inventory list begins with writing down ALL persons, places and things which piss you off. You’ll start out thinking there are just a few. Suddenly your pen will begin flying as if possessed. Weird but true.

Next, you’ll make a second column describing the situation which brings up such commendable memories and thoughts -she said in her best snarky voice-.  The last column lists WHY you feel uncomfortable, agitated or pissed off at the items on your inventory list.

Once again, seventeen years later, it’s apparent that Fear is the basis for my discomfort. Fear translates into anger, self-pity, and blaming others. Including ourselves. There are a lot of items on my 4th Step list which are the result of outside influences. Letting go of unnecessary guilt is part of the process as well.

Going to stop today’s 4th Step dance lesson here. Hope you may have an idea now of what your friend, family member or yourself, is dealing with when talking about the 4th Step. They’re surely losing their friggin minds at this point.

It’s scary to look at our deepest fears. To see on paper every minute, agitating, horrifying detail ranging from cruel verbal outbursts to sexual conduct that has left us feeling like worthless pieces of human crap.

I’ll tell you what I know to be true for me in a brief overview:

Step 1:  We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable. –yeah I got that!

Step 2: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity –I’ll try anything at this point. Even AA as a higher power-

Step 3: Turned our will and our lives over to God, as we understand Him. –Wait. Back up. WTF?!

Note the last portion of the above step. It’s in there to ‘help’ us poor misguided agnostics and atheists and pagans to give up their idea of controlling the universe. I got over this hurdle by realizing that if there is no God, then I couldn’t be Her. Replacing the word God with your idea of a Power Greater Than Yourself can be a slippery semantic bitch. So, I use another technique as well; break it down to it’s essence. This is acceptance. We are not in control of life. I don’t mean give up.People have free will. It is refers to material problems. You have no control if your car breaks down, you get cancer or your neighbor pisses on your rose bush during the night. You DO have control over how you handle the situation. Act instead of react. Accept that a rain cloud has decided to storm over your life that day. Don’t take the anger and frustration out on other people. Or yourself.

Step 3 is really about Acceptance, not God. By using critical thinking it is possible to divorce the wording, divine the purpose of the step and learn how to use a new tool. Works wonders in lowering your blood pressure as well.

It’s hellish as a non-Christian to sit in a room full of people who happily recite God this God (with a capital G) that and all you hear is framed in Christian context. The Alano club (a building or room dedicated to hold 12 step meetings) where I hang out has a lot of murals painted on the walls. One shows a bar with people portrayed as ducks. Hell if I get the duck thing but that’s not the point. There’s a newbie pictured -falling off their bar stool. There’s an old-timer pictured -holding his big book and grinning. There are several other characters depicted including a duck labeled atheist. He has horns sprouting from his head.
I shit you not.
First time I noticed this I burst into laughter. Then thought about it and mused over the non-Christian who may have seen this, left the meetings, and died of this disease. All because a fellowship (NOT a program despite what too many members say and believe) cannot or will not accept anything not of their understanding. Particularly if it is not written down in the book.

For a group that bases virtually all of it’s tenets on Acceptance, this is some tough food for thought.

The 12 Steps DO work, if you work them with rigorous honesty.

For more than twelve years I practiced their principles in all of my affairs and led a bountiful, fun, laughter filled and generous life.
Do I have problems with AA as a whole? Clearly. Are their answers? Yes. Can people find sobriety if they truly want it and work these steps in order? Yes. If you are willing to go to any lengths to stop the pain, and find serenity.

Never said it was easy. It’s also not the Only way to get sober and find peace. It is the only way that has proven that sobriety and happiness can be mine. Hundreds of thousands of other 12 Steppers will also attest to this. Hundreds of thousands have shown that they achieved sobriety and happiness using other means. Statistically, AA seems to be the choice with a lower recidivism rate.

On that note go out and enjoy a great day, bring merriment to the masses, and set a steel-spring trap under the roses.
Currently, your intrepid writer is convalescing at mom’s house in northern California. Came for a four day visit. On the final evening my gallbladder decided to attack, caused itself and the rest of my body to be rushed to the hospital ER, and was then removed.

A CLASSIC! Can't believe this is out of print

A CLASSIC! Can’t believe this is out of print

Three hours of surgery, lots of IV Fentanyl and Morphine and two days later I’m back at mom’s house recovering. I’ll share my Norco with that espresso I got going on the stove.
Back to Reno on Friday after having stitches removed.

If you’re going to become ill, suffer pain so horrible and intense that you wished a large rock was in reach -to bash yourself into unconsciousness-  while on vacation, then make sure to do so at mom’s house. Especially when she is an RN. Especially specially when she knows your favorite childhood dishes. If you’re an addict or alcoholic it also provides plenty of time to finish writing out that pesky 4th Step.

Pack your Xanax though. There’s a reason we leave our parents to begin with.

~Miss R

Bearman’s Yearly Acts of Kindness: How to Use a Cartoonist’s Money to Help Others

Each year Bearman uses his talent to bring not only karmic points into your life, but  much-needed material items for those in need. Especially those in the Cincinnati area.

Follow the simple instructions located on Beartoons.com and pitch in. It costs you nothing but a few minutes. In return one of the finest cartoonists on the web (and an undisclosed planet near our own) gives out of his pockets to help others.

If you’re not familiar with this artist it’s about damned time you check out his work. Funny, colorful, imaginative and his skewed commentary via caricatures and full ‘toon panels will convert you to the Bear Side.
Note: The Dark Side has cookies. The Wombie Side has Wine Gums and the Bear Side has…um, well, Bare Naked Joy!

Tune In, Help Out, Meet The Artist and if you’re very very lucky… Get Mugged in broad daylight. In my case,  A Broad mugged in full Bear Light.

Clickity Click on link right below!

Bearman Cartoons Charity Challenge 2013

2013 Charity Challenge

A-Z for April: Two’fer Monday

I blame this interaction with humankind on Red from Momma’s Money Matters. She is the only high-heeled-wielding-wench evil enough to get yours truly to go forth amongst the the huddled masses with regularity. Retaliation shall be fierce and swift. Well maybe not swift, I have to vacuum the cat, comb the lawn and finish laundry.

April fools! No really it is the second….Shit. Gotta do it. Someone has to. That someone is me. which brings me to ‘A‘ which stands for asshole…. but also alcoholic.

So here are two two two posts in one. From A to B. To paraphrase Dorothy Parker, A to B runs the gamut of my lexical skills.

April 1st. “A

A is for Alcoholic:

My Alcoholic Friends by Dresden Dolls:

Which Brings us to April 2nd. B.”

Pretty close. My alcoholic friends play in Burning Band and attend Burning Man. Many are uber famous…but behind the scenes of our respective industries. Or in front. No one gives a shit what you do in the ‘real world’ in Burning Band. Can you play ‘In Heaven There is No Beer?’ How about ‘Down by the Riverside’? All in B flat? You’re in!

Burning Band Alcoholics

What you are not seeing in this picture is are the other 50+ members of the band and our –beer wagon-. We also have Burning Band Standard Bearers with the band’s name. Said Beer Wagon is decorated with our logo, private stash, extra reeds, banjo/guitar strings,drum sticks, kazoos, ice, rolling papers and is akin to a ‘tip jar’ on wheels. At Burning Man no money is allowed. It is a total gift /exchange economy. Tips are always fun and definitely unusual…and useful.

Being a Band member has never been so Bitchin’. Have video of Burning Band but hell if I know how to upload it. Any help is welcome. It’s a .wmv and on my FB.  Too long since I’ve done a website with video….that wasn’t Flash.

Oh, Here’s a small picture of the famous Little Black Dress Parade: Hosted by Spanky’s Wine Bar and led by Burning Band. Ah the days when we were one camp….Burning Band. Find the Piano Wench

Whew two days down. A shitload to go. I’ll get you Red…..

~Miss R

The Doctor Needs a New Companion

FB Valentine sm

Unfortunately I’m not young or gorgeous enough. Ohhhh but didn’t Riversong become gorgeous in her 40’s and 50’s. Grooooowl!
As my daughter reminds me: Never leave the house without being dressed and ready to be picked up by The Doctor.

The PS above was a quick knock-off for FB. Now I’m obsessed with fixing it. You know, adjusting just about everything to make it worthwhile; scissors on top of roses (or a knife instead), edges on the top verbiage highlighted somehow, moving the transparent GIFS to the left…

Damned OCD. Plus perfectionism. Plus artistic love.
But I won’t. It’s a reminder.
Practice not Perfection. Or something like that.

Playing piano, finishing songs, working on PS and Corel skills, going to meetings.
Will be working on something far more important than writing. Really. May toss a few words on another blog that I’ve stashed away, but not here.

Will be gaining some strength, and laughter, and learning a new way to live.
Rather former than new. Always using YOUR help, ideas, laughter, and general bizarre writings.

Speaking of silly (and who isn’t)

Still waiting for a Mad Man in a Box,
~Miss R

The Time Has Come

To Say What’s Fair.
Oh hell. Started singing instead of making a point.
Still, where can we go when our beds are burning.
-slaps self in face-.

Have more than 400 emails to catch up on. Yeppers all my fave bloggers. Sure lots are comment to return. I’m that kinda gal. Can’t do it all though. Even a bumbling genius needs Fresca, bed rest and duct tape.

Wish I had a male secretary. Or a 19th century hand carved secretary. Both are nice to look at when you’re working.

you thought PIZZA was a guy's Obsession

Speaking of which…

There are a few of our oddball cabal  that live in the same area of town. MILES (at least 5) from cheap ‘Indian Reservation’ ciggies (no tax YEAH) and  BoozeWorld.  Apparently the store sign actually says Taste of Wine.

When one our of southwest Reno tribe makes the journey we make calls: whaddaya need?

Lots of stuff on the other side of town: Grocery Outlet,Trader Joe’s,  99 cent food store and of course Boozeworld; for those who imbibe.
Today picked up some smokes and gin for my long time friend TK.
Dropped off said evil vice deposit. Was invited to dinner for my troubles. Gratis. My favorite price for dinner.
Seriously. Would you say no to a promise of pizza that has been proclaimed ‘BEST’ you’ve ever had?

Am a Brooklyn gal. Know my pizza. Still looking for the noms out here in the Wild Wild West. Hell there is (was?) a place on Avenue U near my old apartment on 19th and Ocean Ave in said borough, with the best white sauce brick oven pie. Nothing like it put here. Digressing. As fucking usual when discussing food.

Supplies! Utter noms in Reno.

I promised to drive (hahaha) and TK would buy dinner. Sounds good to me.

We get into Abe (it’s a Lincoln, duh). On the floor is a roll of duct tape, wires and a pocket knife. Oh, and TK had just sharpened 8 of my cooking knives. Located on the front seat.
We looked at each other and said in unison:
‘We’re fucked. We’ll be pulled over as serial killers and we’re not even drinking. and the body parts are already buried.’

Luckily it’s Reno and if you don’t have duct tape, razor-sharp chef and butcher knives plus a gun (which we were missing; left them in the safe) there’s no chance of being pulled over.

Great dinner. Eclipse Pizza. Great people. great food. The kind employees let us take over -as we do- and plugged in TK’s iPhone/Tunes. Joe Jackson with dinner. Can’t beat it with your dick. Maybe stick. Damned auto-correct.

    Secret Menu online. TK ordered the Slumberjack…Pesto sauce, buttload of meat, extra fresh toppings cheap, home made thin crust. Newcastle to drink per TK, as well as many other selections including Icky (a local brew)  on tap.

Gimme time to catch up on mail.
Knew there was a point to this.

~Miss R

Picasso’s Last Words

If you can whistle that tune 10 points,

If you’re at a loss then shame on you. Unless you’ve the misfortune to be born within the last fifteen years. In which case what are you doing here at YoYo-Dyne?
Piss off ‘ya little phuckers and write your note to your shaved Bieber.

Band On the Run was one of the first LP’s I purchased. The day it was released. Already had Abby Road, Johnny Cash Live at Folsom Prison, and at least twenty 45’s. This was 1973, Making me 3 years old at time. Okay, may have been 12.
Life already consisted of nothing but music and film. An obsession with silent movies and a physical yearning and love for making music.

Being overweight, an A student and incredible spaz helped more than you can imagine. Oh, I had a bicycle. I could ride for miles. And I did. To see movies.

It took me at least a year to separate the musical scores from the film/dialogue and actually watch the film. That is how intrinsically interwoven these arts are to me.

Those long-ago days I walked uphill both ways to school in the snow, wearing only barbed wire on my feet, as snowshoes had not yet been invented.
In Los Angeles,

Spent the weekends at movie theaters. Movie palaces. The days before 20-plexes.
One of the wonderful things about Long Beach was that it was 30 minutes from Hollywood; virtually every film from Hal Roach shorts to David O Selznick‘s Gone With The Wind were first screened in Long Beach.
Fantastical theaters done in Art Deco, California Moorish and Art Nouveau.
None still stand. If you travel to Hollywood the closest you can find is the Chinese Theater. No longer Grauman’s Chinese Theater. Even Grauman’s Egyptian is gone.

Patron cards filled out, producers and actors present. This was still the norm into my teens. In the 70’s. Nineteen not Eighteen.
Filled out lobby cards, saw so many Hollywood legends in the seats (if I were not such a film nerd wouldn’t have noticed) and sneak peeked lots of films. Many of which had their wings clipped when officially released.

Better yet there was a theater in LA that screened Only silent films. Learned to know and love Harold Lloyd, Clara Bow, Buster Keaton, Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks and Rudolph Valentino.

Well, as a teen I didn’t hang out at the mall, go to sleepovers, call girlfriends at all hours. Certainly not boyfriends. Well unless they were gay, but not admittedly in those days.
Do you know the reason God made little fat girls? So little gay boys would have friends -smile-.

You could find me at the movies, paying for a cheap Hammer film in silver dimes (from my coin collection), watching MASH at the cheap matinee, sneaking in (ha, easily passed for 17 at age 12 with the right glasses and make-up) to view Cabaret, Clint Eastwood, The Sting -where I developed my love of ragtime and stride piano playing and a fairly worthless professional career- Chinatown and so many other movies.

And that’s a little bit of history.
Have at least 100 45’s now but most of the LP’s are gone, replaced by MP3s and CDs. Still have some classics.
Turntables are available again. Silent movies are shown on TMC. It’s not all dust.

It’s three o’clock in the morning, I’m getting ready for bed.
You know I can’t drink any more.

~Miss R