PRESS PLAY: Double down in vegas, and see what happens. You won’t have to wait long. Sip your complementary watered-down house scotch on the rocks. Rethink your move despite already laying down your cards. Blame the dealer when your chips are swept away. Or just blame me because I saw your cards. Read More »

PRESS PLAY: Waiting makes us fucking crazy. It speaks directly to our inner, foot stomping, block throwing, hair pulling, 4 year old who’s sure that having to wait means a lot more than a simple pause like the grownups want us to believe. We can hear the tension in their voice. “Just a minute. Wait. I’m busy.” The words do not tell the whole truth. Read More »

PRESS PLAY: David Bowie has been my muse for a previous blog post . In that post I determined that his un-American status (combined with his iconic musicianship) made him the perfect cultural historian to describe how un-American America has become. But this time, its different. This time its less cerebral. Read More »

PRESS PLAY : You know you’ve been told not to stare at the sun. And there’s probably wisdom there. Yet, you force your lids wide open, until they burn, and tears stream down. Your big, silent fuck you to all the worriers advising against it. And yet, it’s you who will be blinded by what you see. It’s just light, after all. ~jrb . Read More »

PRESS PLAY: Bleeding like my heart is being squeezed like the sponge I know it is. Women instinctively know that pain flows out and then waits for the moment to insert itself again. Tick-tock. The trick, i think, is to remember that the flow is real. Blood builds up, to support life. And then, as if wisdom needs no thought, blood moves along. Read More »

PRESS PLAY: The first dance wedding song is typically a pretty big deal. Engaged couples often toil over what song will encapsulate their relationship, their future, their love, whatever poignancy will represent their new beginning. Read More »

There is a belief that some things we do don’t matter. “Pointless”. ”Vapid”. ”Worthless”. There is a belief that some things we do matter. And we can point to them and say, “See, I did that.” ”I matter.” But some things we do matter – Invisibly. Theres no way to prove it. No flag to wave in the face of people who say we don’t matter. Read More »

PRESS PLAY: So many ways to play it once you’ve dealt your hand. Mind over matter? Matter over mind? We’re only as wet as the weather. That bitter wind’s not so bitter. And the sweet cake’s not so sweet. Once in a while I catch you glimpsing over my shoulder into the shadow’s light. Read More »

PRESS PLAY: I sort of hate the way people compare human growth & change to that of a caterpillar – butterfly situation.  I understand that it is transformative when you make emotional leaps & bounds, but really, unless you’ve been transsexually challenged or somehow similarly transmogrified, I don’t think the analogy stands. Read More »

PRESS PLAY: Welcome to the Freakshow, here we go… That’s how we see it, right?  Other people’s craziness = Our Freakshow. But it also = their normal.   So you look at me, and I look at you and we point and stare in condescending awe; or is it actually fear we are projecting?  We like to promote letting our freak flags fly. Read More »

PRESS PLAY: Karma police, arrest this man He talks in myths Just by listening,  she squashes words. She wants me to shut up. But keeps listening. She buzzes like a fridge.   No one wants to feel alone. But there are worse things than being forced to get to know yourself. Phew, for a minute there I lost myself. Hold on.   Breathe in. Read More »

PRESS PLAY. TURN it UP. Don’t be afraid to DANCE, baby. “Baby… baby why cant you sit still?”   he moaned. His glinted stare felt warm in my eyes, tempting a sudden game of chicken with my soul. Turning my head into the wind, I lowered my shades – slowly – and pouted. “Where should I sit?”  was my reply. Read More »

PRESS PLAY: “Well I cant say I’ll tell you anyway.   I’m a liar and a theif.  Bound by pride and grief. Tell me, which one will you take, gettin’ better or gettin’ over?”* Cuz me, I cant decide how to dare to jump that ride. And when the junkies all come around and try to wrap me down Its you who turned me, clown. Read More »

“Way out in the water.  See it swimmin’?”   Sometimes, I wonder if thats about as good as it gets. Watching what you once knew as truth floating out to sea.    Only to take up residence inside the belly of some ravenous fish. This is why people jump ship.   Or walk to the edge of the plank with eyes open. Read More »

Press play: “Good talk is part of seduction.  If not so, why do so many couples who start the evening at dinner wind up in bed?” ~Stephen King Note to self: Words can be dirt cheap, and they can be costly.  Words can sting with disrespect, and they can inspire healing. Read More »

Silhouetted in Blue or maybe tangled up in it. I think what I’m hoping for is just to blend in, and be invisible inside indigo. I asked my 4 & 8 year old daughters, “What color is calm, what color is awesome, what color is sad?”  Somehow, shades of blue fit for all. So I breathe it in, and let it out… Tangled up in blue. PRESS PLAY: . Read More »

Press Play: Have you ever seen an actor fuck up onstage?  It’s everyones worst fear.  (What if I trip?  What if  - God forbid – I forget my lines?  What if…?)  So, when we see it happen we cringe.  And despite our horror, we singe with a little bit of pleasure that we witnessed someone else’s tragedy.  Thankfully, it wasn’t ours. Read More »

PRESS PLAY.  HARD. Rage.   Its that baseline in your spine. The ringing in your ears. It’s the toxic venom inside your frustration. Swimming in your arteries. Rage.   Its the noise youre trying to drown out with vodka, and tv, and blow jobs, and Ambien, and pot, and depression. Read More »

Let’s say you’re on a diet.  And you’re hungry.  And someone places a bowl of chocolate ice cream in front of you.  What happens?  9 times out of 10 you inhale that deliciousness.  That’s what happens. I had a conversation the other day about all the ways in which we, silly humans, act in ways that may not be in our best interest. Read More »

Each year, the tears start on their own, and each year I wonder why.  I cant name it.  I look around and assign blame for my sadness.  I point fingers and mislabel my pain.   Eventually, the clarity presents itself suddenly.  I write the date and remember it is early september.  My soul knows long before my brain.  I am in mourning again. Read More »