asthma attack

 I had an attack at 3 this morning. 

Here is what it felt like 

The tickle begins

but I know better than to drink anything

Pant, tongue out

No.

Sit up 

Pant harder.

it might be stopping

No.

Stand

Now Chris is awake

Questioning.

I lean over the stair rail still panting

Getting worse but so far My throat is still open

I can feel it starting to close

Fear rises

I push it down

Fear will not help in this fight

Focus

Chris stands on the edge of my vison

There

I shake my head

This is MY fight

Pant 

Hard

My body starts to clear the airway

Violent but necessary

Air

and the feeling releases at last.

Shaky.  I sit down on the edge of bed

Take a precautionary puff of the inhaler

Talk to Chris

Fall exhausted back to sleep

I don't DO resolutions

 I don't DO resolutions.  Resolutions are often unattainable, so I set intentions.

This years, I intend to be happier, look for the glimmers, be kinder. 

Day Two, I've already blown it.

A person who went out of their way to be cruel to me, to ruin my life when I would not bed to their will is in the final days of their life.  I am remembering not the things they did before they decided I was worth destroying, wondering if the nice stuff was just a way to suck me into their plans. I will not say what they did to me, but after I escaped they went all scorched earth, trying to ruin my reputation. What they did not see was I no longer cared what those in her circle thought of me.  If they knew me and believed the lies well that was on them.

Still as they lay dying in hospice, probably non of their children keeping any sort of bedside vigil, I think negative thought ( I just did it here, so you see where my brain is)

I need to work on this version of "Forgive and forget" I'm gonna forgive them , then forget them. They mistook my kindness for weakness.

Still working on living my intentions.  It's harder than I thought!

Day 24

 

The ice cream store

I went to as a little girl

with my grandmother

closed

My grandmother always got Bing Cherry

I got rainbow sherbet

They sell the brand in the grocery store nowadays

but I doubt they even make Bing cherry anymore

and I never see rainbow sherbet

I think of my grandmother

and things that disappear

when you aren't looking.

Day 23

 

Remembering things

that are no longer there

I close my eyes

try to smell it

taste it 

touch it

to be in that place for that moment

back in that long forgotten time

in  the bubbles of my memories

that burst

and leave me 

emptier than I was before

Warren Zevon

 

I discovered Warren Zevon, in of all places, the library.  Warren is considered by many to be the most literate of rock songwriters, so it should be no surprise that I found his self titled album, sometime in the late spring of 1976 propped up in the album bin in what we now call the YA section of the Pacoima Branch library. I often wonder just how it got there.  The woman who was the "Teen" librarian might have been hip, or maybe the label sent it out to all the libraries in the system, I have no way of knowing but on that day I picked it up and flipped it over.  I read the notes on the back and saw names of musicians I knew and loved- most notably, I suppose was Jackson Browne, whose music I had discovered a few summers before.

I checked it out and took it home. From the first notes of Frank and Jesse James, I was hooked.  

I saw Warren several times in concert. I saw him at the Roxy, and at the legendary Universal Amphitheatre Concert where he went beyond curfew. It was an open-air venue at the time and they had a STRICT 11pm shut down but the crowd was screaming for more.  He stalked onto the stage, growling "turn the house lights off!  Turn the f-ing house lights off"  when they remained he marched over to the piano, Sat down with a flourish and played "Desperados under the eaves" in the bright light.

I remember seeing him and Waddy, at either Jackson Browne's NYE Concert 1977-78, or the Lowell George Tribute  The group was playing the song and they had a werewolf mask and were chasing each other, grabbing it and running- an elaborate game of Capture the Flag.  Fun times and fun memories.

Last Night, We went to a Tribute Concert at the beautiful United Artist Theater in downtown LA  Built in 1927, the gorgeous Rococo style theater is a wonder to behold.  Beautifully redone, dazzling and welcoming at the same time.

I made the mistake of buying seats in the second balcony. I am somewhat disabled and last night's climb up two flights of marble stairs really did me in. The stairways have large carved wooden railings that I clung to every step of the way up and down.  They DO have an elevator, but it was out of service and they were waiting for a tech to show up ( I know ALL about THAT!)  Shout out to House Manager Eric, for trying- he offered us tickets on the ground floor, but only had two but there were three of us, so climb I did.

The show opened with Jordan Zevon singing "When Johnny strikes up the band"  a song I always thought would be a perfect opening tune.  Jordan reminds me of his dad.  He is a wonderful musician in his own right.  Somewhere I own- or owned- a copy of his CD "Insides Out" which may or may not have made it out of the house the last time I moved (IYKYK)

Artists after artists came forward to sing one of Warren's songs and to talk about what he meant to them  According to other concertgoers who were keeping track the group did 31 songs.

Standout for me:

The performance of the little know  tune "Follow Me" Warren was in a duo with High School classmate Violet Santangelo and it was a minor hit in 1966.  While I did not keep track, exactly, I THINK there was at least one song from "wanted Dead or Alive" but I can't be sure.

I loved seeing the Second Generation Rock "children" as well.  Inara George, Chris Stills and Shooter Jennings.  Shooter was a revelation- I am having a senior moment here as I CANNOT remember the song he did!  He did mention that Desperados Under Eaves" changed his life but he did something else.  The song was beautifully done.  

There were a lot of technical difficulties. Lots of them. Marshall Crenshaw, in particular seemed to have trouble with his guitar and it resulted in something that sounded weird.

The guy who did one of my favorite Zevon tunes (sorry I can't remember his name"), "My Sh*ts F-ed up"  was a HECK of a piano player but plowed through the song with the grace of a bulldozer.  To me , he missed the nuances of the sardonic masterpiece.

I had quite forgotten what a lovely voice Susan Cowsill has.  She did a wonderful version of Mohammed's radio- a song she said Jackson brought her when she was 15.

I loved the stories that people told before singing their song.  I wonder what Jorge Calderón did that Warren had to bail him out of jail before they met ( the MC told that story that Warren's wife sent him to get him out of jail.

So many wonderful stories.

Other standout moments Included:

Jordan talking about trying to get his dad to play with his bandmates, then launching into "Monkey Wash, donkey rinse with them AND the recording of Warren singing.  I love that particular new live technique- My OTHER favorite band , America, does that with the late Dan Peek.  It is moving and joyful all at the same time 

Jorge Calderón standing alone in the spotlight near the end of the show, working his way with great emotion through "Keep my in your heart"

Jackson Browne singing "don't let us get sick", a song he has been doing in his own shows- or did the last time I saw him.  The last time I saw him do it about a year or so ago,  this rather talkative guy behind me, who was trying to impress his date, said loudly "that is an old English folk song ( I had had enough of him talking and just KNEW he would talk through the whole set)  I turned and hissed at him  WARREN ZEVON! He ( as my daughter says) stayed quiet after that.

The show was also a fundraiser for Asbestos Awareness and the Ed Asner Family Center.

The crowd were singing their best AH-HOOOs to end the show.  I went downstairs to avoid having to navigate crowds- my disability was on full display and I am proud to say I did not swear (much) as I eased myself down two flights.  My friend and I stood at the back of the house for "Send Lawyers, Guns and Money" a phase I OFTEN use at work.  We scooted out as soon as it was over.  Note to self- do NOT park at a parking garage that says it closes!  My husband had to leave to rescue the car, because the  lot was closing- the show went well past 11:30 and I didn't want to have to figure out how to get home!

Reflecting this morning, I was glad I went, happy to hear so many songs I knew by heart.  They talk about Zevon's legacy. For me the music, beginning with the wildness and ending with painful raw beauty holds sway.  To quote from W.H Auden  "when a just man dies, lamentation and praise, sorrow and joy are one" 

That says more than I ever could.

Do you carry your Library card?

 I was reading an article from, I think AARP, about what NOT to carry in your wallet.

It said the usual things, you know- not too many credit cards, not your SS card or even your Medicare card. but this one stopped me dead in my tracks

My Library card.

They went on to say that a thief might steal the card, go to the library and check out a boodle of books and sell them.

That's a stretch, even for me.

Frankly if my wallet was stolen one of the first things I would do- after freezing my credit cards, would be to report it to the library.  Not for fear of theft but I can't get by without my card!  My little ancient orange and blue beauty holds pride of place in my wallet. LAPL, where I not only work but have had a card since I could write my name (which was the standard for "membership" in the 1960s) is more than JUST a card.  I can use it to go to local attractions, stream movies, take classes.  Well, you get the picture.

If I lost it I would ALSO have to memorize a new number and THAT would suck.  I can rattle off the number like a grade-schooler reciting the alphabet.  I wonder these days if my brain has the bandwidth.

So what do YOU think?  I personally have a hard time thinking ANYONE would snag someone's card and use it for nefarious purposes, but I haven't worked in a branch since 1982 and times HAVE changed.

Let me know it the comments!

Sunday. Follow me down the rabbit hole that is my brain this morning

 I have been thinking about stuff lately. Trying NOT to have every waking moment consumed with what is going on politically in this country.

The aim is to exhaust you so you stop fighting back.

Not doing that.

So, I am goin to theater, museums and to the local garden for walks among the trees.  I don't know why trees seem to calm me, as if they are speaking to my soul.  There is a bench, among the trees that sits on a stream. It's my favorite place there and when I walk across the garden, I always hope the bench is empty and waiting for me.  I know it's selfish, but it is my relief.  There are other benches placed in the area , but that one, donated by a couple named Jack and Sallie, is my favorite.

But on this quiet Sunday morning, there IS something that is bothering me.

I read a column by Sean Dietrich a writer who is a fiddle player, or maybe a fiddle player who is a writer- not sure which. He mostly writes what they used to call Human Interest Stories, about people or places he encounters in his daily life, either in person or in the letters people send him.

This week he is in Gettysburg and he spoke of ghosts.  Old towns that suffered the type of trauma are, in my opinion, very likely to hold the spirits of those who died suddenly.  They either stay because they want to or can't leave.  I don't know too much about that side of things, but it makes some sense to me.  I just got a book written by my friend, Russel Chan called "the White Light Meets the Thin Blue Line" about his journey to Mediumship.  I need to sit down and just read it- I read the first Chapter but then all my library books came in and you know how THAT is.  I enjoyed the first chapter.  He has a good voice. When I finish it- hopefully this week I will post reviews.  I owe a few reviews anyway.

Sean posted today that he got hate mail about his ghost column. I can expect nothing less from people who claim to be Christians and although I follow that faith, I am glad I am no longer going to church.

Case in point:  

Recently there were supposed to be floods in Hawaii and there was some talk about Oprah Winfrey having a private road and people saying she didn't open it so people could escape.  I read on one page of someone who is particularly religious about the misinformation and the VITROL of the supposed Christians was- I have no other word for it- evil. They gleefully consigned her to Hell and eternal damnation.  When I found a link to a news article that this was NOT true, I posted it.  Thankfully, the originator of the post, upon being informed, took it down, but I still recall these supposed church-goers and their judge-y Hellfire-and-Brimstone reactions.

I was also recently told that I would NOT be going to heaven, since I did not follow a certain branch of Christianity.  The person I was talking to was ABSOLUTLEY certain I was going to Hell.

As my mom used to say that's ok  all my friends are there.

I don't think I want to spend eternity with some of these people. That WOULD be my idea of Hell.

Now before you jump off on me, please know that whatever YOU believe that helps YOU be a better human is just FINE with me.  Just don't try to tell ME what to believe.

I'm off this morning to meet a friend for lunch and a museum visit. I'll tell you about it later.