Your Reno Update: Lives of the Indigent and Famous

It was brought to my attention that I’ve been a bad girl.
Not in any way I’m accustomed to either. Or enjoy.

No. I was simply told  “You know Rachael you haven’t been posting much lately”  or words to that effect.

I have an excuse. Hell I have myriad excuses. One of my favorites is this:
Well, I’ve been chatting with a dear friend a lot and writing seems so redundant. I haven’t been home much either.
Lame. It is an excuse though.

So here’s a rundown of the past few days. Grab a cocktail or cup of coffee and have a sit-down. Here we go.

Every morning is the same.
Get up. Push the button. Pour the coffee. Get back into bed.
Contemplate the horror that is life.
Get up again. Make the bed.
Check emails, laugh at those less fortunate than myself, write an affirmation (tongue in cheek and only helpful to those who are already tortured and jaded), and maybe go to the gym. Or maybe go skiing. Or maybe just clean the damned apartment.
Some days I just stay inside and play shut-in.

Today was a bit different.
Did the usual morning thing and then went out and finally purchased another turntable. I want to burn my vinyl to MP3’s. Well what’s left of the original collection. Of the hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of records in the original collection there remain about 50 or so albums and somewhere around a hundred 45’s.

Divorce(s), moves, attrition, lots of dumbass reasons led to the losses. I did keep the good stuff. You know, out of print releases, imports, stuff that was never released on CD, or just records that have a special place in my black little heart.

After picking out the turntable (a USB model with a built in power supply/amp so I can hook it up to the stereo as well) it was back home for a thrilling day of laundry.
Yes, Miss R can never get enough of that shit.
Of course here at Chez Noir there are only two types of loads: black and towels/sheets. At least it’s easy to sort.
After two hours of clothing chores it was off to Battle Born Tattoo Studio to have my tattoo re-colored.

Now here’s where I should have done a ‘before’ pic.
Which of course I didn’t.

If you know me (you lucky bastard!) you’re already familiar with the image. It’s a cool Pentagram surrounded by leaves and a few tiny roses. My own design but now a bit faded. It’s located on my upper left arm and can be easily covered by a cap-style t- shirt. In case of angry villagers with pitchforks. Or my dad.

The tattoo dates back to the year my daughter was born, 15 years ago. When it was done I was the only woman in the town sporting a tattoo. It was ungodly hip and very scary to most of the townsfolk. As it was meant to be.
Don’t forget, back in those days I was a successful and well-respected (stop snickering) business owner.

Here’s what Blue at Battle Born did for me tonight. All kinds of tarted up!

Miss R's Pentagram tattoo

So tonight I sit here. Slightly sore after two and half hours with a needle plunging in and out of my arm, and my turntable playing through headphones but not through my computer.
Have the software installed but am still incapable of (clearly) getting the wiring right. Or something.
Well tomorrow is another day, and since there’s no skiing until Thursday I predict by tomorrow night I’ll be burning vinyl like a madwoman, arm back to normal, and the rest of the laundry finished.

There you have it.
A Reno update. At least it got written.
But Wait!  You could read about last weekend…

I’ll give you a hint:
Friday night started out at the Polo Lounge, segued to the Truckee River Pub Grille and a pack of cretins along with the usual suspects, then back to the Polo with TK for dancing, a near collision with DJ Bob-Bobby-Bob-O-Rama, TK’s Table O’ Bitches, more dancing, and ending up at the Little Nugget for an Awful-Awful at 3:00 am. Another successful Friday night. Nothing and no one broken.

Ha, and some of you ask why I don’t write about everything.
You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth.
Okay maybe you can.
It just exhausts me reviewing it.

~Miss R

Currently listening:
Sparkle in the Rain
By: Simple Minds

Fall Survey Says….

As we used to say in grade school…
Have a nice trip. See you next Fall.

1. Do you like pumpkin pie?
only my own; a pumpkin chiffon, home-made crust and caramelized pecans on top

2. Apple cider?
is it fermented?

3. candy/caramel apples?
caramel apples yum. candy apples gag

4 Are you scared of black cats??
on Friday the 13th when I’m underneath a ladder shattering a mirror

5. Do you believe in ghosts?
only of the past

6. Ever seen a ghost?
every day

7. Do you carve pumpkins every year?
Used to with my daughter –smile-. Probably not this year.

8. What do you like better, Thanksgiving or Halloween?
 Halloween of course. What’s better? Creepiness, costumes, candy and the macabre OR Celebrating Genocide and Family Dysfunction.
Damn. There are a lot of similarities.

9. Do you still go trick or treating?
Honey, I’m too old to trick –on any level- and the last treat I got was divorce papers.

10. Do you have a Halloween costume?
Some people feel that my entire wardrobe qualifies

11.What is your costume?
Well this year I plan to go as Miss Twin Towers. As opposed to Miss Twin Peaks which is my usual appearance.

12. Have you ever been to a real haunted house?
It was allegedly haunted.

13. Ever sleep at a graveyard?
Mmmm yummy. Maybe that’s what I’ll do this year. Care to join me?

14. Which are better… witches or zombies?
Witches of course. Zombies do make better films though.

15. Do you watch scary movies on Halloween?
Natch. This year I plan on watching Steel Magnolias or Bridges of Madison County. Ooooh Scary Boys and Girls! –she says in her best Count Floyd voice-

16. Ever heard of Michael Myers?
Heard of him? Hell I was married to that bastard for 8 years.

17. If Freddy came up to you what would you do?
Call my shrink for an adjustment in my meds

18. Do you get scared easily?

19. Do you like candy corn?
Didn’t used to but I will eat a few pieces now. There’s something so… child-like about it.

20. Do you know the song monster mash?
Bobby Boris Picket.

21. Do you remember your first Halloween costume?
Yes. A lion. Still have some old 60’s Polaroids somewhere. Always loved kitties. Grrrrrrr.
22. Finish the line… TRICK OR TREAT……
Smell my feet gimme something good to eat

23. Do you hand out candy?
I prefer handing out fresh apples with tasty razor blades embedded in their ripe flesh

24. What is your favorite thing about Halloween?
No one fave. The New Year’s celebration (told you I love Witches), dressing up, my daughter’s excitement, costumes and of course chocolate. Oh and razor blades.
25. What will you do this year for Halloween?
Sleep in a graveyard. Probably alone. As fucking usual.

26. The actual day of Halloween?
Buy plenty of apples. Well, extra razor blades and LSD too. You don’t want to run out.

Currently listening:
Little Shop Of Horrors: Original Cast Album (1982 Off-Broadway Cast)
By: Alan Menken
Release date: 25 August, 1992

The Absolutely Last Halloween Samhain Post

The Trick or Treaters were done by 8:00 PM.
Only three small groups of children came by all night. Yesterday afternoon I’d rushed over to Longs on California to pick up more candy, just in case we didn’t have enough.
Naturally this leaves me with somewhere in the vicinity of 3 pounds still in the house, plus the additional 4 pounds, just an estimate, that Cate brought home.

My powers never cease to amaze me:
If I wash the car it causes rain.
If I spend money I don’t have on Halloween candy it causes
a lack of marauding children.

Just think what would happen if I were to use
my powers for good instead of evil.

My daughter and her friend arrived back here at base camp by 8:15. This was the final trip home, after having made a pit stop earlier in the evening to lighten their loads.

I wound up driving my daughter’s friend home.
The smell of warm toasty fires and leaves hit me as I stepped outside. It was what I didn’t see that made me sad.
No groups of kids laughing and parading down the streets. There were very few porch lights on either. The sure sign of candy there for the asking!
How could this be?

One friend postulated that it was because all the kids went to the ‘rich’ neighborhoods. Sorry but I don’t buy that one. This is a rich neighborhood, despite our abode. Oh alright it’s not rich but it is a compilation of (over-priced) 450K homes mixed haphazardly with million dollar turn of the century mansions. Last year we lived in a decidedly blue-collar neighborhood and we had far more kids at the door.
Of course we also had the ever growing legions of parents who drive their kids from house to house.
What the hell is up with that anyway? The little bastards are going to get really obese if they don’t walk off the icky orange-wrapped taffy candies. Not to mention….. who’s giving out candy at their houses? The cheap bastards.

No Halloween for you

The overwhelming draw of Halloween to a kid is the spookiness factor. Walking down the block in the dark with your friends. Never knowing what the next stop would bring, what creepy haunted house you’d spy, or if you’d get the good chocolate bars or the stupidass Braches taffy. Worse yet the peppermints from the old lady on your street.

Halloween for kids is falling by the wayside. I personally believe it’s the parties held by churches, activity centers and schools which encourage a ‘family atmosphere’. For some reason this seems to give parents a false sense of security. Let’s face it. If a pedophile wanted to jump my kid they would want to hang out with, oh I don’t know, a roomful of KIDS?!

Razor blades in apples are an urban myth (except at my house of course) as is LSD injected into fruit or candy. Would you waste your psychedelic drugs on some rabid ankle-biter? Hell no. You’d share them with your friends. Dear God.

Speaking of God, there’s been a push over the last 10 years by some whackos to have Halloween considered a ‘satanic’ holiday. When I was living in Idyllwild 10 years ago the village decided that the traditional ‘Halloween Carnival’ name was too Demonic and Dark. The name was changed to the Great Pumpkin Carnival. Gag me.

Yet another perfectly good pagan holiday wrecked with religious dogma. In deference to my own spiritual beliefs (or lack thereof) I put out our traditional ‘dumb supper’ to honor my family and friends who have passed over the years. This morning I took the plate of food and consigned it back to the earth. It’s a calming and important ritual honoring loving connections. It dates back to the times far before Christianity and Judaism. It evokes serenity for me

Attention Fundies: All Souls was originally an ancient holiday honoring dead ancestors, and renamed to bring the pagans into the fold of Christianity. What’s wrong with leaving a few vestiges of the old celebration intact? Celebrating the passing of loved ones cannot help but intertwine with death and darkness. Making light of such things help to calm the basic human fear of death.
Doing away with what is really a healthy coping mechanism is sicker than any twisted ideology linking an homage and celebration to the work of an alleged devil.

Christian fundamentalists are trying to ruin Halloween, as they ruin the real intent of Christianity; acceptance, peace and love. How sad for us, our children and our future generations if they succeed.

So in a lazy, non media-savvy and obsessed society we have effectively done away with the one day that really IS for kids to enjoy and parents to wax nostalgic.
We’ve replaced it with Halloween parties for adults, where the women are encouraged to dress like half-assed strippers and the men like their pimps. The number of truly inventive and bizarre costumes dwindles year by year.

This depresses me greatly. I’m so happy to have been free to wander around our neighborhood scaring the little kids, carefully counting each piece of candy, and making note of the dentist’s house to avoid next year. The asshole always gave out toothbrushes.

Organized Halloween parties bite. Organized ANYTHING bites.

Think I’ll start in on that left-over candy in the house. The majority of it I’m donating to one of the food banks.
Except the apples and razor blades. Those are for my own kid.

~Miss R

The Postal Service
Currently listening to:
Give Up: The Postal Service
Release date: By 18 February, 2003

Can someone please open a window in here?

Had the stitches removed from my belly button on Wednesday. Oh joy. The other stitches (at the bikini line and internally) will dissolve over time.
Now there’s something creepy enough for Halloween.
Just wish that the pain would dissipate. Dammit sometimes being an acolyte of immediate gratification is a bitch.
the doctor told me to quit being such a stoic and take the damned Percocet more often. It’s gonna hurt for a lot longer.

God I love
Fall. Well normally anyway. Fall in Reno is kinda odd. There are a few deciduous trees here in town. Luckily I live in an older neighborhood and the blocks surrounding me are planted with many of these. Their leaves turning bright gold and red. Falling in the afternoon breezes.
Although I cannot see them float to the pavement and lawns I notice them there when looking outside from time to time.
I imagine the scent of fecund earth and am revitalized. It’s torture being confined to the house right now. I can’t open a window by myself because they are too heavy. Every so often I’ll wander to the front door, open it, and stand in the doorway. The sunlight touches my face and the aroma helps to heal my body and mind.

This season brings enough frost and occasional sprinkle of rain that the land releases the smell of nature.
Changing the seasons. An end to the year.
I love wearing sweaters, used to enjoy drinking mulled wine, and of course Halloween is my very favorite holiday.

The traditional ancient Celtic New Year is October 31st. In fact, the Christmas carol Here We Come A’Wasailing is a direct tie to our modern Trick or Treating.
On New Year’s Day all of the village would visit each other, bringing food, drink and visiting with neighbors. A vestige of that is all that remains on our modern All Saints Day/Halloween.

The Irish word for New Years Day is Samhain (literally summer’s end in Gaelic), for those of you who are interested in Celtic history.
When Christianity swept through Western Europe New Year’s was changed to the Winter Solstice to coincide with another change made by the new religion; aligning the birth of the Christ with Celtic/Pagan celebration of the re-birth of the sun.
Now our culture celebrates both sun rise and son rise.

The logic of ancient peoples makes sense. The old year ended when the harvest was done. The God died and would not be re-born until December 21st. Then the days start to become longer, the earth re-awakens, and the cycle beings again.

My own life has always seemed to follow a pattern which coincides with the cycles of our small universe. New jobs, new loves, endings and beginnings. Even such mundane things as amoveoccur in the Summer. Life begins anew in November. Coincidentally the month of my birth.

This is probably a reason that Fall has always been good for me.
An Irish/Welsh complexion glows in the breezes and filtered sunlight of Fall. We potato-eating whisky-loving people don’t fare as well in the summer. Witness my cupboard stocked with various sunscreens.
Having a red nose from too much time in the sun or at the pub does not count as a healthy glow. There’s a saying in the Program “Without the Irish, AA Meetings would be held in phone booths”.
Another digression. Shocking isn’t it.

My body is healing and changing as the old year ends. I’ve no idea what the New Year will bring.
Here’s a bit of synchronicity though; out of the hundreds of songs in my iTunes folder “New Year” by Death Cab for Cutie just started playing.

So I dreamall day and night now. Of the coming winter, feeling better, monsters, want, joy, everything. Good and Bad.

My hope is that this New Year brings a farewell to tumultuous change and pain and a greeting of promise, hope health and love.

Athblian shona duit!
(Happy new year to you!)

~Miss R