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Archive for the ‘What the F*'s!’ Category

Here I go again on my own as if a white snake could exist but did in an era where people seemed free. Or, were we just in a dream, dream, dream… Because there’s a fire burning in my heart where the scars remind they almost had it all before Shirley Temple died and pink transience swam around mini icebergs with a slippy slide.

Again the phone rings with demands from another day but the same, as if nothing really changed. Win the lottery-it’s in fashion! Sensible shoes, trained handlers, a little bling never hurt no one. “Get a whiff of THIS you (bleeeeep)!” He would probably say.

in the end with all our guns and all our rotted roses we are still knock knock knocking on heavens door. She tried but Rapture took over by Blondie and mr. west was in the building. She saw Red but she was Making Love in Mamma’s room too late 20 seconds from mars. It was her party but she couldn’t find him in da club drankin a bottle full of bub, or so instead she gave HIM a hug to Buffets demise. Is this making sense yet?    Good.

In the beginning…

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Lost but found in a sea of rolling thunder
So dark
So light
 
In a space
between time
and space
 
Her ship sailed
blown by dirty earthworms breath
Governed by
Distress
 
Wrecked, torn
The ship no more
Landed on alien shore
 
She walked… fast
Leaving behind the broken mast
Fast
 
fisherman
 

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Fruitless lies the trash of the resolute per annual.

Wind blows the drippy promise, away. Away.

Let it be carried by the invisible.

Fool!

Did you think it was yours to carry?

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Change
Shift
Change and shift
Position
Move
Move Position
Darkness
Penetrating
Deep thought
stirring and whirring
hands that look like time cannot allow blood to flow
eyes that only look through silver shadows
of doubt
betrayal
hope
betrayed hope
for what was bright, true and forth is now dim, a lie, and hidden
frothed lies in  your hidden light
why do you hide your light?
a ring, a chance
that stupid dance
lines on paper with meaningless chance
images for a smurf or a snotty dogs nose
it all gets lost when the wind never blows
bar fights, bar scenes
hookers on a stripper pole
it all has meaningless meaning for the vibrant and pushy attendees
yet they savor the next chance
a wrinkle in the purple fabric hides the small world of complete serenity
but we can’t go there

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Drama. We all know it and have heard of it. It’s on our TV, in the magazines, and in everyday life. But, there is a bigger drama out there not many are aware of:  salon drama.

After working in the beauty industry since 1992, I’ve decided to touch base on this mane event. Of course, the disclaimer: the names have been changed blah blah blah will be assumed.

While truly non-fictional in every word I will endeavor in this tale of woes and foes, it is at best fiction and biographical. Where to start? Any ideas? I’m open to suggestion. Several salons later, several hundreds of salon clients and crazy bosses later, and then the rest…

Give me some tips. Should I start with the last and end with the first? Chain salon or private salon? Regardless their daily settings may have changed by location or mood (or who was fired or canned that day or week). However, the drama co-exists across all universal encounters of the beauty industry.

Here is one day in the life of drama in the follicular sense:

Kam: OMG girl! Did you SEE that guys butt?

Tim: No, today’s not my day to be looking that way. Sorry.

Kam: (puffing on his smoke) You should have seen the sweeties down in Philly last night! TOTALLY to die for!

Dino: Well I face slammed the bar last night.

A woman walks in, all three stylists slowly peer from the break room saying, “Who wants THIS lady? She looks like an Irish train wreck!?” They pause, look at her, she looks back nervously as if they are looking at her naked. She shuffles her feet looking back at the front door as if wondering if she made a mistake.

Dino: I guess I will take her.

Dino slowly walks the long walk from back-breakroom to receptionist area, not bothering to smile or pretend she is happy to make 50 percent of a $14 haircut.

Dino: Can I help you?

The Lady: Yes, I wanted to see about getting a perm today with really really tight curls.

Dino: (thinks, “Ugh, another blue rod nightmare!”) OK, follow me.

The Lady and Dino walk 10 feet to an electric orange colored hair station with poor lighting while rap music blasts in the background.

Dino: So, you want a tight curl you say?

The Lady: Yes, I had a perm last time but it didn’t seem to take.

Dino: (thinks, every old lady says this every time!) OK, let’s go to the shampoo bowl.

They walk to a crappy uncomfortable shampoo chair and bowl.

Meanwhile, the two stylists left in the break room get bored. “Time for another cigarette,” one says. “I think I’ll get chinese food but last time I got the craps,” the other replies.

Kam: I’m getting chinese again, does anyone else want to split the ticket?

Dino: Not unless you want to split my SIDES open again!? (The Lady looks up listening to the conversation, the phone rings)

Kam: (answering the phone) Hair’s My Follicle’s Incorporated How Can I Help You?

Phone Customer: Yes, do you do butt waxing?

Kam: Ummm, I dunno let me check? (looks back, yells to the salon, “Hey! Do we wax butts?” but gets no reply). Sorry, we don’t wax butts ma’am… (hides a giggle). Hangs up, yells back to the salon: OK, I just got the WEIRDEST call about butt waxing, I mean WHO wants to rip the hairs out of some perv’s A**?

Dino: YOU would! (laughs)

Meanwhile, Sarah storms in from the front door for her shift one hour late with a hung over from horrible look on her face.

Dino just watches, ignoring the attitude sensed while regretting the next two hours that will be spent wrapping near toothpick sized blue rollers on a full head while using wrapping papers thinner than anything a cigarette is smoked with. Dino tells The Lady, “Follow me.” They walk back to the horrific orange station and Dino starts to section off the hair in nine areas just as learned in beauty school. Dino thinks, “GAWD! Why me?!” 30 minutes later The Lady’s hair is wrapped in a flurry of blue rods and the rotten egg smell is making everyone sick. Dino walks back to the breakroom dying to have a smoke while everyone else has been sitting in the back complaining about how “slow” it is. They vaguely discuss food, flip through gossip magazines and discuss which Hollywood star has fake boobs or needs to return to rehab. Another customer walks in and they all, again, slowly peek around the corner and stare….

They all are dreading the manager who is returning today after his day off; they all talk about how he is from “hell” but they never say how to fix their “dilemma.”

To be continued…

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Painfully true

Honestly real

A blissful dream and yet a lie swept by the dog’s tail.

Light touched a toe into your reflection pool

Darkness surrounded your mind’s left eye fooling… 

fooling…

Again, she said. Commanded in one breath!

Harps will hide their strings from her angels death.

“No more dancing!” was screamed in a flourescent bubble’s reply

Despise.

No raven or crow will come during tonight’s fly.

Despise. Despise.

Today’s storm will be yesterday’s sunny sky.

Tomorrow’s snow is what remains

Yet glitter and milk feed.

Despise.

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Eyes crossing, blur in my words.

Lucky to have had typing class.

Can meditation become typing with eyes closed, or would Buddha differ?

Dog is snoring, husband is emotionally drained.

Does he not realize we all are out of emotion?

Parents are lovely when they still put you down as a grown adult.

Yet, in their eyes, words are just words.

Yet, to this author, words are a sword, a bullet, and brain all in one.

Nightime sinks into me fast; bartenders must have all the luck?

A mother I am, a mother is to me. Does that matter?

I think sometimes more or equally.

I hear so many, “I wish(es)…” about what was or should have been.

Yet, if ye got what ye wished for ye would still wish.

A waterfall is beautesque. Spell check says “wrong!”

Beautesque could be pretty and beast in one.

Life giving, life taking, and ignored yet free for all to see, drink from or leave.

A city hums like a well working bee hive.

Amazed at the need for no car, imagining the money one could save.

If so many are living the city life, what is this poor economy?

Or, is it a way for Washington to obtain a paycheck raise?

This poem is going awkward, but let it bee.

Maybe this is not poetry, but we are the poetry and life writes us. Line by line.

Letter by letter we are born one by one, 25 of us on replay. Making us not so unique; all the same just different too.

Will Smith turned 7 Pounds from a Pursuit of Happiness yet one movie had less than 7 dollars as and issue and the other movie had happiness being sought after in connection.

Another famous person looked of jungle in the asphalt, the marrying a millionare was move-quality, trying to make Sense Out of Life while Monkey Business pre-premiered.

Eons, decade,  skin color, genitalia and technology apart, yet these two actors had it figured out and wanted to create, write, act, display and show the world what it’s all about.

No, no fantasy, no 3d blue smurfs, just plain ‘ol effort and art on display; inter-connected through something some say, “there ARE NO mistakes.”

I gave respect; I got none back. I tried, tried again; still nothing. One decade, I spoke to Jesus personally and my life literally thrived from end-to-end; I was a shining example of reward. Then, the basement crumbled and everything slowly fell away with it into a dark black hole of pain and emptiness that haunts, leaves for a while, and becomes a stepping stone for some to use to cause me more pain. As one commenter said, “life sucks.” Yes, I agree. One book read that the character thought she was on earth living in her own personal hell. If Jesus can redeem, then where was he when….       the list is long. But also, where was Gandi, Buddha, Moses, Abraham, The Trinity, Mar

y, Allah and the rest of the clan? Are they at Java Dreams?

I can see my rambling is going nowhere. However, maybe it has touched some soul out there waiting for the words to be said so he or she could stop thinking it. Well then, it’s posted. It is said.

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