Confessions of a Grooveshark Junky…

13 06 2013

I though “Crimson and Clover”was the most beautiful song alive.  I would lay on the floor with a speaker on each side of my head, and listen in awe as the music shifted from one side to the other.  It was one of my first experiences with STEREO sound!  Most of my records were passed down by my parents and all mono till then.  I had a “stereo”, but you couldn’t experience that sound without a stereo record!

I have one real addiction in my old age, Grooveshark.  All my music is on cassettes.  I discovered that not everything is replaceable  when I went out looking for a new one to replace the stereo from my grandfather.   It had begun to eat my tapes.  You know you can’t buy a decent cassette player anymore!

Somewhere in a plastic grocery sack, in a box, in a storage unit, in California, is my cassette collection, complete with about 20 personal recordings of my own family, that will never be played again.  Oh well.  Such is life.  It was more heartbreaking then when I discovered I could no longer buy 126 film for my camera that was literally glued to my right hand till then.

Anyway I found myself alone for the first time in my life only about 5 years ago.  I left my husband.  I had my clothes and my computer, and a tiny apartment on the second floor of a converted building that was once a flour mill.

I borrowed camping gear from my kids till I could get some furniture.  I bought two bath towels and 2 knives, forks, and spoons from the open stock at Walmart.  I cooked in the same pot that I ate out of and slept in a sleeping bag on the floor.

I had 2 camp chairs so I could have company and that was it.  My apartment echoed for the whole first month because I had to save every last penny I earned to pay off the deposit that my landlord graciously let me move in without paying.

It was then that I discovered Grooveshark.  There were several versions of it but it took me no time at all to realize that laying on my stomach on the bare wood floor for hours picking out music wasn’t working for me, so Grooveshark was it.  I am up to 10 playlists to fit my every mood now, and this is what has made me the junky that I am.

I have all my favorites from when I first discovered music in my teens on one.  I have all the country that my mother loved and those old fifty’s tunes of my fathers that I grew up with on others.  I have my workout music, and my suicidal music, dish washing music some clasical, some jazz, 80’s hits, and a whole list of odd ball stuff I have collected that I can’t put a heading on.  Pat Metheny, Alanis Morissette, Dan Hicks, and Nils Molvaer couldn’t have less in common but their all on that list!

My best friend lived right next door and often brought me coffee in the mornings.  She would sit with me and listen and talk for hours some days and we made her up a list so we could play her favorites when she was there.

Tommie was just a few years older than I, and we didn’t listen to a lot of the same stuff, but she knew music.  You could say a few lines and she could tell you what the song was, what year it came out and who did it.  When she wasn’t around I would remember a few words and have to type them into Google, so that I could add it to one of my lists.  We spent a lot of our hours together just remembering all the music we ever loved and sharing it with each other.

When I wasn’t at work, back in that empty apartment it was all I had; just me and the music.  I would lay on that sleeping bag and crank it up.  In just a few seconds I would be whisked away.  With one song I would be 11 again, laying on the diving board enjoying the sun and the calm of my Aunts pool just getting a tan.  With another I would be crying out all the pain my heart was hanging on to with long choking sobs.  With others I would be heart to heart right next to my parents, both gone for years now.

For three years I lived in that apartment and I never got used to living alone.  I hated every minute when someone else wasn’t there, and it seemed like it would never end.  The music often went all night long.  One of my first acquisitions when I started buying things were a set of headphones so that I could crank it up without disturbing Alice downstairs.

One day I just decided I couldn’t do it anymore.  Living alone wasn’t for me and I went about changing my life, yet again.  Now here I am living in Florida, over 2000 miles away from my kids, my friend and everything I knew then.

Funny thing that playlist of my best friends picks has become my favorite list now; and it always takes me right back there to the two of us having coffee and Groovesharking music together.

This one is for you Tommie!  “It’s My Life”  Heart to Heart again.





Thank you Ariel Gore…

21 07 2012

Because of you today I branded myself.  “She spent her life not able to hang on to anything until the day she got it all!”

It kind of gives me something to hang on to that looks a little like hope, or promise of some kind of future different then the life I have known.  One where I won’t push everyone I love away feeling like I’m poison.  A future where I don’t need to sleep on the floor or to discard everything I love to make sure that I never get comfortable, never trust.

If you have read any of my other posts you know I am 3000 miles from my kids, cat computer, lover, paintings and the few possessions that I had managed to hang on to over the years.

I never seem to keep more then what will fit in a mid-sized car, and it alarms me now to count how many times I have found myself exactly where I am with nothing but a few clothes and a toothbrush over a thousand miles from anything that meant home to me.

I think, “well things don’t really mean anything to me” but that would mean I wouldn’t miss them and for the most part I don’t … but parts of me do, and they bleed for paintings that they can’t ever finish.  Or the book that took them years to write, that is lost.  The cat that was the only animal in 50 years that I have ever had that I attached to.  The grandchild that month after month calls someone else Grandma and has forgotten that I exist.  The stuffed animal my daughter had given me, that my step daughter hugged in my favorite picture of her just before the state stepped in to take her away.

(It was the death of my second marriage that my husband signed his rights away; as I too grew up in foster care.)

I know what it is, to know as a small child that you owe a debt to people who abuse you, “for the food in your mouth and the shoes on your feet”.  I knew that anything could be taken from me without warning or even a nod to the fact that I might have a need or want that it should be different; as an Adult I do it to myself, again and again.

“Velcro not strings” is the handle I chose because I have spent probably too much time on dating sites and there are so many ads for relationships with no strings attached.  At times I think that is the Only type of relationship I should be in.  I get that it is hard for people to deal with all the changes with me, but the one that I want is that heart to heart forever love that’s unbreakable and endures beyond the simple trappings of the life we share here.

I am in a funny sort of long distance, on again off again, relationship with someone and as with every relationship I have ever been in I keep hoping that it’s the last relationship I will have.  That this will be my “till death do us part”.  I feel for him though.  

This isn’t the first time I am made aware that to be in my life is to be damaged by me.  Not because I am abusive or intentionally harm others but because the changeable nature of who I am makes it impossible to depend on me.  I make plans for the future and forget them when in their mind those plans were solid and real.  I start things that never get finished.  Treat you like your gold one day and like I don’t know who you are the next.

In spite of all these things, to my total dismay that lover/boyfriend refuses to let me go, my family embraces me like I am precious to them, my grandchildren call in the middle of the night to say how much they miss me, and my friends have always stayed true friends to me.  They all tolerate my coming and going, intensity and abandonment over and over again and still have kind things to say to me.  They put out a welcome mat and still wish me to darken their doorway.

My dream is of a day: when I will have a place to really call my home; a huge communal space filled with children, art and music and vibrant with activity, containing everyone I love who wishes to be there; when with or without a marriage license I will find that love that want’s my energy and their’s to vibrate as one for all time and eternity; and when I won’t use strings to bind me to all that I love, but crazy glue!








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