[ Tuesday, March 29, 2005 ]
[ Wednesday, March 23, 2005 ]It's been an interesting weekend, filled with heart attacks, horror, laughs, a few minor strokes & maybe even some heartbreak.
Friday I broke down & went to the doctor. I hate, hate, hate going to visit a doctor, any doctor. I'd rather be beaten severely about the neck, chest & head as to haul my ass into a doctor's office. I especially hate THE waiting room. Even more so, ANY waiting room ANYWHERE in Eastern Kentucky. It takes a great deal of self-loathing to subject one's self to that kind of torture.
And it is torture, believe me.
The smell emanating from the walls is unlike anything I've ever smelled. It's entirely encompassing and I'm assuming, has been embedded in the paneling for years, after having first taken over the carpet & all things fabric. Sour. It's the smell of sour, sour people. Hundreds, thousands, millions of sour, sour people huddled in one tiny space over the course of ten years. It's the smell of people who haven't bathed all winter, who haven't even glanced at a bar of soap in months, who've awakened each morning & put the same pair of overalls on not bothering to wash up as far as possible, down as far as possible, much less wash possible.
There are a lot of myths perpetuated about the people in eastern kentucky.
Some of them are true.
Having worked at a Family Dollar Store on the first & third of any given month, I've seen what comes rolling out of these hills shortly after government checks are distributed. And it's not a pretty sight. It will scare the gooseshit out of you. The Woodsmen. My first encounter with The Woodsmen occurred moments before I began to close up shop. I noticed an odd looking elderly fellow walk in. He purchased one item & left the store, never saying a word. Seconds later, a younger version of the old man walked in. He paid for his item, handing me a tightly wadded five, hands mangled, nails longer than any I could ever wish for & surrounded by enough dirt to grow an acre of corn. I wasn't too spooked. I figured they were together, maybe they forgot something they needed. I didn't look at the parking lot to see if they actually were together or if they had left. Seconds later, an even younger version of the old man walks in. He buys one item. A bar of soap. Pays for it. His hands are lily white. They look Palmolive soft. Nails clean & long, although the rest of him is covered in filth, including his greasy long mullet hid underneath an oily cap. He smiles an ignorant looking grin. I assume I'm the first woman he's seen in a forever. My skin crawls. I watch him walk out to the parking lot. I want to make sure he leaves. He crawls in the truck, nestled between the old man & his brother. They sit in the parking lot forever, then eventually, the truck begins to growl & they leave. I mentioned these people to my manager. I learn they're The Woodsmen. No one really knows who they are except that they live alone in the woods at Stillwater & they only do their shopping at night. From then on, The Woodsmen became my fascination. My friend Andrea & I would tail them any time we saw their truck roll through Campton. We would catch them, always around the first of the month, always after dark, making calls from a pay phone. The oldest brother, I assumed, handled all the business. The youngest, I can only guess, is in charge of meals & the wash. That's the only way I can explain his lily white hands.
This is what we have in the hills. Lots of these people. Some far far worse, than The Woodsmen could ever be. (Two of my friends used to work for the ambulance service & one sight, as they told it, was almost too much to believe. A member of the family needed transportation to the hospital. When they arrived in the ambulance, they witnessed a man chained to a porch post with a log chain. He was wild & growling & pulling at the chain, trying to get to M & W. Inside, they recovered the patient after almost being stabbed by a wild sibling, & transported her to the hospital where nurses tried to remove her bra only to find that it was embedded in her skin & had to be surgically removed.)
So some stories are not myths. They're sadly true. And you can bet that one of the places these people visit while making their rounds, besides the grocery store & dollar store, is a doctor's office. Now imagine the smell. ( I half expected to turn around and see some boy playing the banjo, with his legs crossed & a smile spread from ear to ear. If I'd heard anything that even sounded like 'You sure do got a purty mouth', I would've pooped on myself & ran screaming to the truck. )
Imagine having to sit in that waiting room two hours, surrounded by the worst dye jobs you've ever seen, knowing you have a sinus infection & bronchitis. Knowing that you need antibiotics to clear it up. Imagine sitting in that waiting room two hours, finally hearing your name, sitting in another holding cell 45 minutes only to have a physician's assistant walk in, ask you what's wrong, listen to your lungs, then say "You have sinus infection & a touch of bronchitis. Antibiotics & cough syrup ought to clear that right up." I could have saved our time & just told someone at the window what I needed.
My Friday was hell. Eastern Kentucky hell. But finished off nicely with a good dose of medicine & a win against Utah.
Saturday, Dave & I went to Marcy's for dinner & an Easter egg hunt. I was pretty excited, wanting to watch Cody find eggs. This is his second Easter & now the little thing can run all over the place. He found plenty of eggs, although it took a while for me & Lisa to convince him to actually pick them up. He would walk over to one, point. Then walk on to the next. Finally he got the hang of it & started pulling them off tree limbs. He's learned so many new words, one of them being 'shit'. He dropped that one Saturday & was scolded immediately. It's hard to keep a straight face when he whips that out. And especially when he uses it in context. When he's trying to open something up or drops a toy & says 'shit'. I hold it in & then laugh when his back is turned. We sat on the porch forever Saturday, telling stories, laughing, making plans to hit the beach this summer & just had a really great time.
Sunday, we hung some paintings (the one posted below, The Dreaming Tree) above the bed, suspended by fishing line & Dave (did I mention he's a good cook?) made ham, potato salad & baked beans & his mom & sister came over for dinner.
We watched the Kentucky/Michigan State game. Had the first heart attack of the weekend when Patrick Sparks took a three point shot (after two failed attempts) with 1.2 seconds left on the clock. Dave let out a whoop & did a little dance when the ball went in. We went to overtime. Then double overtime. Ended up losing to Michigan. Nobody was happy.
Sunday night was also the season finale of Carnivale on HBO.
My fascination with it began a little late. I didn't watch any of it last season. And had only seen a couple of season 2 episodes. Thank God for TiVo. Dave had them all & one Friday began my obsession with the goodness that is Carnivale. It is absolutely the best show I've seen in a forever. The battle between good & evil, light & dark, surrounded by the most interesting group of characters. It's still up in the air whether or not it will be brought back for a 3rd season. Last night's episode just left so many questions lingering though. I felt like I needed to watch it again. Shortly after it ended, we checked the message boards to see if any discussion was going on. We found a Carnivale chatroom (I think that means we're officially dorks.) & several of the actors were in there to take questions although it was impossible to keep the crowd that swarmed under control. It was just crazy & filled with mods who spent the night typing "Shut up. Let them answer. This isn't how it works." "SHUT UP." It's a great little show though, and if you haven't watched it, you should. It's clever & interesting.
I hate to see it go.
~ Rebecca 12:36 AM [+] (0) comments
[ Tuesday, March 22, 2005 ]Dear Miss Doe,
I'm drowning ladybugs in a half-empty Ale8 bottle. I just thought you should know. I'm not normally violent but these little fuckers are kamikaze diving, 280 miles per hour, landing in my hair, on my keyboard. They deserve to die slow, quiet deaths. So one by one I'm plunking them into a stale, wet grave. I'm amused & satisfied & quickly becoming bored. I expected it to last longer, the satisfaction, the power. It amazes me how long they squirm. But enough already, accept it, die like the little evil bastards you are.
Sheesh.
It's 1:12 am. I should be asleep but Word Mojo Gold & eBay have overtaken my brain. I watch items come & go, some for far less than they're worth, many for far more than I'm willing to pay & it induces a panic. What if I never find this item again? Can I live without it? If I wait until I'm settled, with a home, a place to lay out everything I own & look at it, will I have to pay $100 for a primitive bowl that I can buy now for $40? Too much, too much. It's all so fucking complicated.
Spam mail is eerily enlightening.
"You make the best products you can, and you grow as fast as you deserve to. The most important of my discoveries has been suggested to me by my failures.
The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.
My ground is the Bible. Yeah, I'm a Bible-bigot. I follow it in all things, both great and small. No man's error becomes his own law nor obliges him to persist in it.
My country, always wrong.
There's no substitute for guts. We tend to get what we expect."
I wonder why I read it in the first place. Weird, familiar subject line. Somehow, strangely poetic & profound.
My lip's swelling. Karma. Boredom. The beginning of a fever blister.
If I don't wake up tomorrow, take these ladybugs hostage.
And leave positive feedback when both my packages arrive.
Sincerely, i
~ Rebecca 1:03 AM [+] (1) comments
One new painting. The Dreaming Tree.
~ Rebecca 10:14 PM [+] (0) comments
Random random 101.[ Thursday, March 03, 2005 ]
1. I picked daffodils today.
2. I trespassed on a neighbor's property to do it.
3. Their house is gone, turned to a pile of brick & burned appliances.
4. The chimney still stands.
5. I've taken photographs of it.
6. Black & white stills that aren't pretty / beautiful / meaningful.
7. They just remind me of a place. A time.
8. Every spring daffodils line the perimeter of such loss.
9. Every spring I pick them.
10. Along with red bud blooms.
11. And the occasional wisteria root.
12. Daffodils are not beautiful flowers.
13. So simple in form.
14. But they are hopeful.
15. The first glimpse of color against dead browns & rotten greys.
16. And so I pick them.
17. Because they remind me that my insides will warm again.
18. That this fog will lift.
19. That in a few short months I'll be picking mushrooms.
20. And maybe sitting in a field, drinking cheap cheap wine, watching the sun come up.
21. I don't know that anything feels as good.
22. Quiet.
23. Simple.
24. Content.
25. Hair damp with dew.
26. Warm sun.
27. Heavy eyelids.
28. Feeling as though you might have just taken your first breath.
29. I've spent many mornings watching the sun come up.
30. From a tailgate.
31. A carhood.
32. Through a cracked windshield.
33. A wide open door.
34. Hours of conversation dangling inches from my eyes.
35. A flannel shirt is the best method of protection.
36. It holds your insides in when your mouth is busy trying to expel them.
37. Unsure how much should be revealed.
38. Not really caring.
39. Because this is life you figure.
40. And if you think it, feel it, want it, dream about it, maybe you should speak it.
41. Reveal it.
42. Because we're not really as alone as we think we are, you figure.
43. Because all of us are connected by common themes.
44. Hurt.
45. Betrayal.
46. Love.
47. Unreturned love.
48. Feeling so far from that place you want to be.
49. Feeling so not enough.
50. So hidden.
51. So lost.
52. With all these quiet somethings lurking beneath the surface.
53. Common themes.
54. The boy.
55. The girl.
56. The childhood.
57. The desperation.
58. The search.
59. Meaningless.
60. Meant to be deciphered, understood but still meaningless.
61. Ice cream on tailgates.
62. Laughing until your belly hurts.
63. Laughing so hard you cry.
64. Laughing & crying so hard the line between sanity & insanity is blurred.
65. Laughing until you begin to worry that this is the beginning.
66. Then pulling back.
67. And wiping tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand.
68. Or your shirt sleeve.
69. Stomping mud all over hell & creation.
70. Because this song is the best fucking song you've ever heard.
71. And because this moment is the best fucking moment you've ever lived.
72. Crawling home at 3 am.
73. With a belly so full.
74. Of living.
75. Lost in now.
76. Because now is all that matters anyway.
77. And now daffodils are blooming.
78. Some are dying on my table.
79. In an aluminum pitcher.
80. Once owned by an elderly lady.
81. Who was middle-aged.
82. Who was once a girl.
83. Torn by common themes.
84. And her own unique chaos.
85. Who survived.
86. Or didn't.
87. Who handed down her madness.
88. Or had it sold from underneath her.
89. Who understood that it wasn't really madness at all.
90. That there is no label.
91. That it's life.
92. A torrent of emotion.
93. Spectacular swings.
94. Finding out what we're made of.
95. What we're, void of bullshit, made of.
96. Forgiving what / who got us there.
97. Allowing ourselves to thaw.
98. To open.
99. To reveal what our eyes give away, anyway.
100. Memories are golden.
101. Or some dumb shit like that.
~ Rebecca 9:24 PM [+] (0) comments
WHY BURNING A CHRISTMAS TREE IN MARCH IS COOL. OR[ Wednesday, March 02, 2005 ]
WHY YOU SHOULDN'T LEAVE A CHRISTMAS TREE ON YOUR PORCH, EVER.We finally moved the Christmas tree from the front porch. This happened sometime last week. It was moved to the yard where it stood until a mighty mighty wind or the mighty mighty bosstones knocked it over. Last week Dave intended to burn the tree in the back yard. Instead he burned the small little spigs of pine that I had scattered all over hell & creation, mainly the kitchen & living room. Those branches burned baby. So it was decided that we needed a big open field or at least some area removed from other buildings. Last night, before the Kentucky/Tennessee game, we participated in a sacred tree burning ceremony in the wide open field next to Charlie & Page's house. No one lost any eyebrows or small furry animals although before the ceremony I was convinced that this might be my one chance to be the redneck describing the fiery mess to local news crews. I anticipated wild hand gestures & a "Honey, let me tell you." Didn't get my chance though. Everything went down without incident & then we watched the game.
I could admit that we're pyros at heart. I could admit that. But I won't. This was an important public service experiment. Never let your tree turn brown. Dispose of it immediately after Christmas. Don't wait till March. Don't throw it out in the yard near the road. Don't give some wise ass a chance to throw a cigarette in it as he passes. Brown Christmas trees burn hot & hard & high. Take it from us.
A link to the video will be provided later in the day for your viewing pleasure.UPDATE: Burn baby Burn!! Exclusive video footage.
~ Rebecca 10:21 AM [+] (0) comments
Jesco White - The Dancing Outlaw
I'm part of a secret cult. People who silently worship a bonafide tap dancing fool. For years I'd heard of this man, been told by several people that I had to see the documentary, that I would laugh my ass off. I was intrigued & wanted to see it. But the video was hard to find. In the beginning, the video was passed from household to household or viewed at Jesco White parties. Few people still had it and for a while, it couldn't be purchased on the internet.
A few months ago, I wandered upon another little jewel, a documentary by Rory Kennedy titled A Boy's Life. I scanned HBO listings religiously trying to find it again, praying it would air. It's the story of an eight year old boy who has been taken from his mother, Robanna & lives with his grandma, Anna. Anna claims that Robert has severe mental issues, has tried to kill himself, has killed cats & dogs & totes him from therapist to therapist. She shoves pills down his throat, restrains him when he becomes 'violent'. (Most episodes are provoked by her.) And is trying to get a disability check for Robert. I would be lying if I said the documentary didn't crack me up. There are lines from it that have made their way into my repertoire, Robanna's "I'm gonna lose weight. I'm gonna get me some teeth. I'm gonna go back to school and maybe I'll make something of myself if I put my mind to it." A scene between Robanna & her mom, after a visit to the gynecologist is especially heart-warming. Anna: "They're just using you as a damn guinea pig. I better find out she's not a quack." Robanna: "Beggars can't be choosers, Mama. When somebody comes down here and gives me 2 thousand million dollars then maybe I can find someone who'll treat me like a damn human being and maybe I can get something done." All this is said while the camera zooms in on Robanna's face & the gap where her two front teeth used to be. Poor little thing. There are dozens of moments like that in this documentary. But it also, over all, enraged me and is just the perfect example how one person's mental illness poisons entire generations. When removed from his grandma's home & returned to his mother, Robert began to blossom. Robanna wasn't nearly as ignorant as she was when she was around her mother & seemed to be capable of handling her kids.
Finally, HBO aired this one again. I taped it & toted it from house to house, tickled to death that others were going to hear the lines that I'd been inserting into conversations for months.
When I showed it to Dave, he mentioned The Dancing Outlaw again & began a search to find the video so I could see it. He found the 30 minute video & I almost lost it. I finally understood (years after the taping) what all the hype was about. The intro features Jesco White tap dancing on a swinging bridge & singing "If you wanna get to heaven you got to raise a little hell!" while cutting to clips of Jesco & his wife, Norma Jean, sitting in separate doorways of their trailer, arguing. Norma Jean: "But you can't hit me again & cause me pain." Jesco: "Yeah, I've threatened your life many a time over and over just to get you to shut up." He then goes on to tell his stories: being locked up in Pruneytown, huffing lighter fluid & gasoline, getting all that good stuff in his body, putting a butcher knife to his wife's throat, the tragedy of his dad's death.
Lines that float through my head randomly & make me laugh so hard that people might begin to think I'm touched in the head:
"Man I got a double super buzz."
"I enjoyed myself from within myself on behalf of myself."
"My past is coming up into my future and messing with my good life."
"And I took the butcher knife and put it up to her neck. I said If you wanna live to see tomorrow you better start fryin them eggs a little bit better than what you a fryin 'em. I'm tired of eating sloppy, slimy eggs."
"I mean I was an animal. A no good beast. I'd kill anybody just for a drink of water. But this Elvis collection took that away from me. I mean it's just like a burden was lifted."
"It took the zar out of my heart to have a baby. The way this world is."
"Anybody will say anything under the influence of madness. Marriage is a wonderful thing. They's happiness in it. They's joy in it. But they's also sorrow, hatred and madness."
On the night his father was shot:
"We got ready to leave and, uh, we got half way home and I said, Norma, I said I forgot my sunglassesup at Mommy's and something was just a telling me to go back and get my sunglasses. I said I want to go back and get my sunglasses. I just let Dorsey (his brother) borry em to wear. I didn't give em to him. She said Jesse that's a awful long way to go back & get them sunglasses. We'll go back tomorrow & get 'em. I said No Mam, by GOD, we're gonna go back tonight & get em. I said I paid for em and ain't no other God-you know what gonna wear em. I said them's mine & mine only. And I said I will go back & get em. She said No, I don't think that's the thing to do, said I'm tired. Let's go home & go to bed. I said You're gonna go to bed alright. You're gonna to go to bed in a coffin if you don't turn this vehicle around and go back my glasses. I said I'll blow you're f-ing brains out all over the dash & I won't hesitate one minute about doing it. I said I wanna go back & get my shades. I said I'm pissed off cause you want to come on home & my costly shades a laying up there with some other weirdo a wearing em."
"And it hurt me so bad to see him shove my father in that kinda shape and I just went crazy as a bat."
"If I was at my right mind and hadn't been under the influence of alchohol or drugs, I believe I'd shot everybody there & then turned the gun on myself."
"I could never outthink him or outdance him. He's gone but not forgotten."
"We didn't hardly show each other that we loved each other. The names he called me, the bastards, the little ole sons of bitches, he didn't mean that. He really loved me."
So now, I'm an unofficial member of the Jesco White fan club. This DVD has been toted from house to house. And I still have quite a bit of toting to do. I'm also convinced that similarly funny footage could be found right around these parts. I've thought about packing a video camera around & just saying "Tell me a story." I'm sure I could find some real gems.
If you haven't seen this one though, find it, watch it, love it. It's worth every minute of your time & money.
View more pics of Jesco.
Watch a video clip from The Dancing Outlaw.
Purchase The Dancing Outlaw.
~ Rebecca 11:22 AM [+] (1) comments
