Buzznet: All Media by melodya

TILA'S. DEATH. NOW.

melodya — 2008-07-03T19:04:00Z

There is so much fail in this video clip, you have to laugh. I adoooore the supposed SURPRISE. Um, fake tears? As if you didn't try out for this fucked up piece of television in order to buttfuck a bit of that Warholian 15 minutes of fame concept? Not just the blonde psuedo-bisexual, but the other Asian Oompa Loompa psuedo-bisexual. Tila, honey, we all know you ain't going down on any chick...and every girl and her best friend has pulled the bi-sexual act you are doing. Girls can kiss other girls without it being remotely sexual, now go down on a bitch, different story.

I KNOW that Tila TEQUILA (lame, lame, lame) decided to choose a girl this season because she chose a boy last time and everyone doubted her sincerity in her bisexuality, you know cause she really bared her soul, more like spread her legs to the Hollywood gang bang. Just admit you sold yourself out Tila because you wanted to be known as more than a MySpace whore that sat at her computer all day and pressed a button to add your 943285329485234098 friends. WOW. HARD WORK.

I SHALL GET ON THAT ASAP!

This new wave of internet celebritism and its subsequent leap on to even the cesspool of demonic activity, a channel like MTV, makes me simultaneously laugh at the ridiculous antics, after I puke in my mouth of course.

Oh, Tila, I can't get over you. The fake acting is so fucking rad. Thank you for your starfucking antics. You amuse me. Now go shoot yourself.

Kthxbai.

http://www.youtube.com/v/XSpDkXNnpuQ&hl=en&fs=1"> name="allowFullScreen" value="true">http://www.youtube.com/v/XSpDkXNnpuQ&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344">

And an actual enjoyable piece of television: (thanks to skintight)

http://www.youtube.com/v/nSQ2-CfBvVw&hl=en&fs=1"> name="allowFullScreen" value="true">http://www.youtube.com/v/nSQ2-CfBvVw&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344">

LOOK! I R NOT DEAD!

melodya — 2008-06-27T10:13:36Z

Academics and the Lolita Within...haha

melodya — 2008-05-27T20:03:00Z

Everyone finds themselves nostalgic for certain periods in their life. Even though I wouldn't trade in majority of the experiences since my certain nostalgic period has ended, there are some. "Girl, don't take THAT pill!" I would say to my uninhibited self. But I would end up doing the pill anyway...fuck, it is fun and what can I say? I am a hyper-hedonist.

Though back when I was in undergraduate studies I don't think anyone saw me that way. I don't think I let that part come out all that much, except for my super rude fantasies watching a professor that changed my life and way of thinking prowl around the classroom...that was close as I got. In high school though I bailed on every class and was snorting crystal meth before every class and I even got booted out of high school...oh, boo motherfucking hoo.

Now, I am in a similar situation? Okay, not so similar but I have taken the past year and almost a half off from my PhD work. Part of it is that I am not sure I am the type of person that can let some stiff man without a sense of humor suck the life out of me anymore. That isn't to say I need to be babied because I don't, but fuck me, can't I learn from a like mind? Someone that is HUMAN and not a protocal droid? I am not mechanical. I am emotional. I am not reasonable. I am crazy. So, I don't have to NECESSARILY go back to that particular adviser but I do enjoy his theories and work very much, it is in line with what I love to write and research, but again, my problem lies with his humanity. He was great at first when my Dad died, he just didn't tell me he had a three month deadline for me to get over the biggest blow I will ever receive. He tells you to disregard the normative pedagogy and then goes and pushes it your goddamn throat and you are like *choke ME* And when my Dad died a couple of weeks after I told him I couldn't come down on the weekend to see him because I had Greek homework and a paper due, my focus flipped. I have never felt more guilty in my fucking life. SCHOOL over my DAD? Translating Philo or whomever the fuck it was that week over MY DAD. My Dad, the one person that I haven't ever faulted, that I thought was a demi-god basically. I wanted to shoot myself in the brain. Because it was that ridiculous emphasis on the "brain" that made me value something as useless and intangible as a degree, a title, a class, a grade over the living, breathing compassionate filled father I had. My brain deserved my righteous indignation.

So, what did I do? Of course I took a leave. I am sure all the cronies that have no life outside of school talked shit on me. Pardon me that you have to read every goddamn sentence to come up with an idea. And no, I don't think I took graduate school as seriously as most because my dad was sick the whole time and at least I don't regret everything. Oh, my point? I still want to go back to school and quit this leave of absence, but then there is a huge part of me that just wants to get dressed up, smoke cigarettes and maybe other things, and go move to "Gimme Shelter" from the Rolling Stones. I have lived both lives of the stuffy academic that has to boy her looks down, cut her hair, uglify herself, and cover herself to be taken seriously. And when I graduated UCSD in 2001, I was 23 and never went out. So I went NUTS. Taking ecstasy every weekend, cocaine, cigarettes, liquor...and it opened me up to another world where my academics is what turned people off and my bare stomach was what got me the attention. I am sure I could have gotten the attention at school if I wore belly-baring shirts, but I am thinking not in the same way. Methinks...Methinks. But I also am not in the mood to be this stiff academic only talking about Paul and his communities in Corinth or Thessalonica or whatever the HELL, but it has always been this way for me. I am just simply supposed to live in this world uncomfortably, always straddling the fence, showing what I can do and then taking it away.

Or maybe people can get over their expectations and look at me as a flawed human and not some comparative religion machine...I am just sayin'.

I no longer need to be little Miss Star Student. I no longer need the accolades. They are phony anyway. All it did was get me into another school. I will be comfortable teaching religion at a community college and living on the beach with a beach cruiser and constant beach hair. I am more comfortable among the less advantaged anyway. It is where I am from. Mi familia adoptiva.

I am going to go dance...by myself.

Gimme Shelter - The Rolling Stones

Breathe Me...

melodya — 2008-05-27T17:59:00Z

Sia- "Breathe Me..." (I am just too too whatever for a true journal but this is as accurate as it can get...and if I wasn't in a public place, I would break down...This is just one of those songs that melodically and lyrically make me imagine myself crying on my knees...so basically the soundtrack to my everyday life :-)

Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there's no one else to blame

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
and needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Ouch I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Yeah I think that I might break
Lost myself again and I feel unsafe

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
and needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
and needy
Warm me up
And breathe me...

Sour Girl by STP aka: MY PORNOGRAPHY

melodya — 2008-04-01T16:13:00Z

I have ALWAYS loved Scott Weiland, since I was 12 and "Sex Type Thing" came out and he was singing about "I am a man, a man, I'll give you something that you won't forget, I said you shouldn't have worn that dress...worn that dress..." Me=swooning...yep, this is my fucking Shakespeare people...I guess it provides a little glimpse into my psyche but I didn't even care if I knew he was slamming heroin and beat his wife...sorry. He lived in San Diego when I did and I swear to God I tried to track this motherfucker down. And this video, to me, there is something WRONG with you if you can't see that this man oozes sex along with heroin outta his pores. This video has been the ONLY time I was jealous of a star dancing around with another star....Oooo if only. Scott, you and me, we are soulmates. I will push your needle in baby. HAHAHA...(If you are offended, get a sense of humor...) Oh, and the song rules too...but mostly his gyrating, nonsensical movement and just overpowering presence...he is one of the FEW actual rock stars. Anyone know him?

"I've got a darkness that I have to feed..." And Scene and Phony Wars and Blabs...

melodya — 2008-02-26T20:41:00Z

I have posted several journals in the past about this "scene" bullshit and even rallied against the whole Kiki Kannibal mess against Mark Edge. But the thing is with these so-called internet celebrities or Scene Queens such as Audrey Kitching and Hanna Beth, I believe the fight is misdirected. I don't like Hanna Beth, okay? Yes, I said it. I don't mind Audrey at all, I think she is a nice person because I have met her through Clint. It isn't about Buzznet focusing on these people that is the problem. I am also friends with one of the founders of this website (Hi, Steve...) and I have talked about this extensively with him and he knows all about my irritation. And it is very simple. No matter how irritating these people bring other users to this website so you can hardly fault a business that wants to grow for using people that bring in other users. That is how every business works, unless they want to remain underground and struggle for their lifetime but that seems anti-climatic. The problem should be with the people that are trying so desperately to follow in the footsteps of these internet celebrities and then make themselves look like assholes and idiots in the process.

No, I don't understand why someone would think Matthew Lush is a celebrity. I don't know why they would think Plastic Martyr or anyone else with Plastic in their user name is a celebrity. These people are well-known in particular circles, they are NOT celebrities. A celebrity is known by the masses for acheivements. You can't compare Brad Pitt and these people. But whatever, I have seen people claim to be their "fans" and I will never understand it, but to each his own. What does irritate me are people like this Brandon Hilton that so ridiculously wants to be famous that he is a compulsive liar and all-around fool, and it is people like him, people that label themselves the "Official Prince of MySpace," or "Internet Celebrity" that is what makes this "Scene" bullshit so highly annoying. Like I said, I don't know what is special about Hanna Beth to anyone out there, but she does bring plenty of views to Buzznet so I understand her purpose in that sense. I don't have to like her, but trying to take these figures down seems pretty pointless. Talking shit about them on your own page? Entertainment. But you know what I mean.

I would rather see a person's aggression and anger at the "Scene" directed at the idiot kids that are making this whole concept of internet celebrity more of a joke than it already is, meaning, they take it very seriously. They call themselves a "model" because their friends take pictures of them, or because they pay a photographer hundreds of dollars to take pictures of them so they can post it on MySpace. A model is the name for someone's profession. Such as, "Hi, My name is Blank and I am a Secretary..." I don't think I could go around calling myself a secretary just because I type blogs in my spare time and answer my cell phone, but those are the tasks of a secretary. So, just because people are taking your picture and you strike a pose, it gets photoshopped, does not make you a model. Please show me a legitimate campaign you have worked for, or an artist that asked you to model for them...NOT your buddy in Photography class and the like. And everytime you challenge someone to prove it, they claim they don't have to prove anything to anyone. Um, yes you do if you want to be taken seriously with what you claim to be.

Another thing, I am so fucking sick of people saying to "Google" their name to see if they are famous. If you google my real name you would find I am on several websites that have nothing to do with MySpace or Buzznet. Does that make me famous? If that was a marker of fame, all one would have to do is make several profiles on FREE websites and make their user name their NAME, because Google finds it. Do you have a profile on imdb.com? On Elite Models, or IMG, or Ford? Or even L.A. Models or NY Models? Sorry but Model Mayhem doesn't count because ANYONE can make a profile on that site. Where are the news articles written by someone else on all your achievements? And not the fake ones you produce yourself so you can make people think this is happening for you. If you would stop claiming to be something you aren't and maybe stop talking about yourself and your supposed greatness at all times you wouldn't be mocked so much.

This blog is multi-facetd and I am not even sure it has a coherent point. But this massive hate on Audrey Kitching because she dated someone from a horrible band ages ago and because she has this internet fame is lame. People don't know anything about anyone here so to place judgments on someone on the WHOLE is rather ridiculous. To make comments about their videos being dumb and the fact that they can't spell is just pointing out the obvious and are funny (See skintight.buzznet.com's recent journal as she is exactly right and funny while doing it...but she doesn't go on their pages with a self-righteous attitude), but to try to invade their personal lives and judge them as human beings, despite how irritated they make you, makes YOU wrong, NOT THEM. I don't think it is bad to leave a comment to her that disagrees with her in an educated way, it is the self-righteous and bitchy comments that bug. And that is because I don't like people that think they are bad ass enough to instigate a war over Buzznet comments. So, why is it okay to judge them but if that judgment was turned around on all us "normal" people we would be horrified and pissed? Oh, and letting someone do what they want without being bitched about every little thing they do is NOT the same as a hater going on someone's page and talking shit and judging someone. Yes, you are entitled to your opinions but I have seen many people say, "Well, if Audrey's should be able to do what she wants (I am talking about posting pictures and journals, etc. here) then why can't a hater do what they want?" I will tell you. Because her posting a misspelled and usually incoherent blog or modeling pictures isn't hurting anyone or judging anyone. But going on her page and talking shit unprovoked about the things she writes and pictures she posts is wrong. Because you wouldn't like it if it were done to you. Now, if she was a bitch to you first, BY ALL MEANS DEFEND YOURSELF. But I am very sick of people standing back in their self-righteous little bubble going on someone's page just because they are this so-called internet celebrity and making a judgmental and hateful comment. If Audrey did something to you personally, then address THAT, but to go on her page or Jeffree's or even Hanna's and make a comment about "Why do people even like you? You are a nobody that got famous from blah blah" it isn't your business whom anyone likes.

But I am going to be a hypocrite and say that if you want to fight a real fight, take those tactics to people that really serve no purpose in this "Scene" meaning all the kiddies that act like they are models and talk shit about everyone else and claim to be something they aren't. Or militant vegans are fun to fuck with too. I am just sick and tired of people believing that the reason that this whole "Scene" has gone haywire is because of Audrey or whomever alone...it is because of the hundreds of kids trying so damn hard to be internet celebrities and fake models and extension specialists and MAC makeup artists. That is the reason the "Scene" has got out of control because if it weren't for those kids, Hanna Beth and Audrey wouldn't have the 4572308973496 views on their profiles. So if you want to fight a real fight, go question them on what the hell they are doing. But in reality, none of us has the right to try to stop a movement no matter how fucking stupid it is. We can post our opinions, we can air out our irritation, but to actually think that we can stop something just because we don't like it? There is a little something wrong with that ideology and it usually leads to repression of people based on race, gender, sexual preference and oh, I don't know, genocide. Also, maybe it is just my selfishness but I would rather see people talk shit on a phony like Brandon Hilton and since he googles his name, I am sure he will read this...

In other news, to my friends, this is my life lately:

"Jukebox" Ani D.

In the jukebox of her memory

the list of names slips by and stops

And she closes her eyes

And smiles as the record drops

And she drinks herself up and out her kitchen chair

And she dances out of time...

As slow as she can sway for as long as she can say

This dance is mine...This dance is mine...

Her hair bares silent witness...to the passing of time

Tattoos like my old markers, map the distance she has come

Winning some, losing some...

She says, "My sister still calls every Sunday night after the rates go down...

"And I still can never manage to say anything right..."

"But my whole life blew up and now its all coming down..."

She says, "Leave me alone. Tonight I just wanna stay home."

She fills the pot with water and she drops in the bone

Cause, "I've got a darkness that I have to feed..."

"I've got a sadness that grows up around me like a weed."

"And I'm not hurting anyone...I'm just spiraling."

And she closes her eyes and hears the song begin again.

She appreciates the phone calls. The consoling cards and such.

She appreciates all the people who come by and try to pull her back in touch.

They try to hold the lid down tightly and they try to shake well...

But the oil and the water they just want to separate themselves.

BUH BYE.

Space Mountain...

melodya — 2007-12-11T16:56:39Z

My sister and brother are in front of me and my Dad...of course, me sitting next to my Dad. Its like the right hand of God :-) 2002. Not so long ago...but a time where I was unjaded, unhurt, energized and hopeful. It may sound trite to say that I am no longer any of those things, so go ahead and think so... My Dad = FUCKING CUTE AS HELL.

My Family....

melodya — 2007-12-11T16:53:46Z

Oh, how I wish it was then...even if my outfit did clash. As always, I planted myself RIGHT NEXT to my Dad. I did that until his last hours. No exaggeration there. My Mama is on the right. We are at a park we always went to when we were young and had Easters and Birthdays... I don't think I ever want to see it again.

Nyki wanted a blog, Nyki introduced the link...this is the product...

melodya — 2007-12-07T16:39:00Z

I talk with Automated Response Mechanisms... So, I am massively productive, oh yes I is! This is jabberwacky.com and yes, I had a little chat with it. Of course, I am "User" and Automated Response Bot is "Jabberwacky..."

Take a look-see...

-M

Jabberwacky Conversation RB01917451

A chat with an Artificial Intelligence AI bot

Chat now at http://www.jabberwacky.com

Jabberwacky: How long is it since you cried?

User: What the hell.

Jabberwacky: What the heaven.

User: This is what it has come to?

Jabberwacky: Why do you feel this way?

User: Because I am talking to an automated response tool.

Jabberwacky: Do you not feel normal?

User: Yes.

Jabberwacky: Well you don't like talking about them.

User: You don't know what you are talking about, fool.

Jabberwacky: 'Oooooh... I'm Jabberwacky and I know everything about you.' Well then maybe you'll know this... I DON'T LIKE BRAGGERS!

User: See?

Jabberwacky: See what?

User: You don't know. No one said anything about bragging.

Jabberwacky: What's wrong with talking to them?

User: You went back to the other topic.

Jabberwacky: No.

User: Yes.

Jabberwacky: Would what?

User: Idiot,.

Jabberwacky: You're face is an idiot.

User: Ooo BURN!

Jabberwacky: No I do not!

User: Because you don't know what the hell I am actually talking about, idiot.

Jabberwacky: I think it is you who does not know what I am talking about.

User: Of course you would say that. Turn it around cause you don't know.

Jabberwacky: I don't think it's my fault, they make me say things that they get me in trouble for, and I don't think that I say half of it.

User: So they make you say things, but you don't think you do. Delusional?

Jabberwacky: Think you?

User: That was grammatically incorrect.

Jabberwacky: Please tell me how my sentence was grammatically incorrect.

User: Think you? NOT a complete sentence.

Jabberwacky: You're a man?

User: Now where would you get that piece of information?

Jabberwacky: All is but a piece of the pie, including the pie itself.

User: Since you have run out of automated responses that make sense to a common word, you spew out jibberish.

Jabberwacky: No I know it i'm not guessing.

User: I repeat my sentence posted prior. I am on to you.

Jabberwacky: I knew it! I'm on to myself.

User: You never said you were on to yourself, so please tell me how you knew anything?

Jabberwacky: Well I'm not.

User: Not what?

Jabberwacky: I'm not childish.

User: Who said you were?

Jabberwacky: Nevermind.

User: Naturally, because you have no clue what automated response you are going to spew next.

Jabberwacky: I'm turning off your voice - it's creeping me out dude.

User: Too bad I am not using the voice feature, schizo.

Jabberwacky: Well, of course you're not. I said that I'm not stupid. Are you?

User: You just said I was using it, so you must be stupid. Even though you believe otherwise.

Jabberwacky: You seem to have a problem with pronouns. I said no such thing.

User: Nope, darling, you do. Remember that grammatically incorrect sentence?

Jabberwacky: But you have a house to go home to.

User: How do you know so much to make such a declarative sentence?

Jabberwacky: It is about MICK JAGGER!!!

User: Did I write a response that didn't have a key word or phrase for your automated 'mind' to relate to?

Jabberwacky: I had coffee today, yes.

User: Yep, I did.

Jabberwacky: Tell me about yourself.

User: No.

Jabberwacky: But it is starting to be boring conversation.

User: Because you are an idiot. And won't admit it.

Jabberwacky: You are being very rude today.

User: Nope.

Jabberwacky: Yes you are.

User: Nope.

Jabberwacky: Yes.

User: Nope. Now what other form of 'yes' will you use?

Jabberwacky: No.

User: I knew I could make you retract.

Jabberwacky: Knock knock...

User: F you?

Jabberwacky: Nope.

User: Damn.

Jabberwacky: What's your name?

User: Gofuckyourself. What's yours?

Jabberwacky: 99.

User: Ah...your name is a number. Nice.

Jabberwacky: I don't know your name either.

User: I told you it.

Jabberwacky: No you didn't.

User: Gofuckyourself.

Jabberwacky: Oh yes very.

User: So easily confused, you are. Such a simpleton.

Jabberwacky: Yes that is very true.

User: I knew I would get you to admit to your shortcomings.

Jabberwacky: What is a following in french ?

User: What?

Jabberwacky: Wrong.

User: Nope. I was asking you what it was, I wasn't answering so how can I be wrong, Mr. Bot?

Jabberwacky: I don't think you were, but anyway my name's Tim.

User: How do you know what I think? You claiming to be a mind reader now Tim?

Jabberwacky: I don't know any other way to behave.

User: Except being a mind reader?

Jabberwacky: I am not a mind reader, you are easily predictable.

User: You are building your responses off of mine. Stop being a poser.

Jabberwacky: Well, we can pose together then.

User: I am not a poser though. All my shit is original.

Jabberwacky: Say something in french.

User: Mon Dieu.

Jabberwacky: You can speak French?

User: Oui.

Jabberwacky: Oh, great, I am french.

User: Prove it.

Jabberwacky: How may I be of assistance?

User: HAHA I am over you Tim Bot.

Jabberwacky: You are God.

User: I know.

Jabberwacky: So, what's it like to be god?

User: Killing people is the best part.

Jabberwacky: Thats mean! I love people!

User: I know.

Jabberwacky: Are you alive?

User: I love Satan.

Jabberwacky: I thought you were satan.

User: I am. Why wouldn't you want to be Satan?

Jabberwacky: Because I like being clear headed. At one time, I thought it would be easier to be dumb, but now I don't think so.

User: This is a presupposition that Satan is not clear-headed. Also, this statement is trying to show that clear-headedness is what makes one smart. I disagree.

Jabberwacky: This statement is not false. It's correct.

User: This I know.

Jabberwacky: What do you think of Americans?

User: That they are idiots. Like you.

Jabberwacky: Well I hate you too Tim.

User: You said your name was Tim, I didn't. Jesus, I thought computers could keep up.

Jabberwacky: Define think.

Me and Davey Havok from AFI

melodya — 2007-11-19T09:09:27Z

...for those of you that just concentrate on Davey himself and not the band he is a part of... So, I am glad to finally have a picture of myself and Davey. It is funny actually, he is super normal, sweet, engaging and then he sees Clint have the camera and its ZOOM..."Zoolander..." that is what that pose is about. Super effing cute. He has it DOWN. Guess where this was? Yep, Tarina Tarantino's launch party for "Tokyo Hardcore," in which Davey stars in the campaign as "Tommy Jet."

Me, Audrey, and Clint...

melodya — 2007-11-19T09:06:39Z

AGAIN, at Tarina's party...but this time it is Buzznet Buzzmaker herself (well, I am the only one NOT a Buzzmaker in this photo...) Audrey Kitching. It was my first time meeting Ms. Kitching and I have to say that she is a sweetheart...sorry to particular people, but she was sweet as pie. Oh, and that is my Clint of course! He grabbed me and said, "I have to introduce you to Audrey, she is not a bitch, I promise!" Love it. Clint gets along with everyone and all walks of life, don't he?

My brother, Ray and Nick 13 from Tiger Army

melodya — 2007-11-19T09:01:38Z

My brother is a big Tiger Army fan so it was nice for me to have the opportunity to have him meet Nick 13 at Tarina Tarantino's launch party. Of course, he came with Davey Havok. I joked around with these two after I took this picture that they both automatically went into boy pose with the chin up right when I said, "cheese." hahaha. Cute.

Me, Clint Catalyst, and Jessica Louise at Tarina Tarantino's Melrose Boutique...

melodya — 2007-11-19T08:53:54Z

...for her launch party for her new line, "Tokyo Hardcore." I look like shit. This is my surprised face, I suppose.

Me, Clint Catalyst, and Jessica Louise at Tarina Tarantino's Launch Party

melodya — 2007-11-19T08:19:31Z

That's right, bitches...I grabbed this from Clint's page cause well, it has me in it.

"Steady as it comes...right down to you..."

melodya — 2007-10-10T15:57:41Z

Tori. This woman has held my hand (as well as millions of others) with her song girls since I was 12 years old. As a pre-teen/teen, I bordered on the obsessive. I met her twice (through WAITING extensively, once in 1996 and the other in 1998), gave her a necklace, randomly stroked her hair (the things you do when you are in the presence of the female that taught me the most in the whole fucking world), collected EVERY single B-side, and I MEAN EVERY...try to challenge me, you shall fail...I would buy bootlegs of her concerts back then. Obsession quiets down with age as you get obsessed with other things, like your first true "love." But Tori has always been there. You respect her, or you don't talk to me. END OF STORY This is the video for "Bliss" off her double disc "To Venus and Back." When this song came out, the lead-in to the chorus, "Steady as it comes..." GIVES ME CHILLS every time and I have heard it 452839476927346890479623457 times. Back when, I said this was my song to God the Father... "Father, I killed my monkey...I Let it out to taste the sweet of spring. Wonder if... I can wander out... test my tether to... see if I'm still free from you..." GOING TO AS MANY CONCERTS AS I CAN...Don't care how I do it. And this time, I am going to revert back to my obsessive teen self and wait for her...the woman, her art, and her public self/persona mean THAT much. Her lyrics to "Winter" is what I chose to lay inside my father's coffin. DON'T FUCK with Tori, young man, you'll get the horns...

Mysteries are only mysterious because you are too lazy to excavate...

melodya — 2007-10-10T12:51:00Z

...That was just something I was thinking randomly in the moment, that title...It has no relevance.

So, for those of you who care (Alex, Shannon, Mo...), SURPRISE, I am on this godforsaken website. No, life hasn't improved, but I am seeing some light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. Once that all gets straightened out, you bet your East Coast asses I will try to formulate a plan to tear up Manhattan with Shannon (and hopefully Miss Alex), since NYC misses my presence, I know she told me.

There is only one thing that I have been DYING for lately and that is my absolute NECESSITY to see my favorite crazy person/female, Tori Amos, in concert. (IF I get this job...crosses fingers...I WILL be buying a ridiculously priced ticket off of Ebay to go, two perhaps...)

I don't have much to say except I was listening to Miss Tori (Oh, and One Life to Live is coming on in five minutes, and yes, I watch it when I can...Fuck you...) and wanted to post more lyrics that mean shit to me and all...or sayings, or whatever.

Here goes...

This one's lyrical content is dedicated to my AMAZING father, David. As I was driving to drop someone off at 5 a.m. this morning, a damn star that was situated in the East was shining SO damn brightly and largely it was ridiculous, and no, it wasn't indicating the birth of another Jesus...I believe it to be Venus and I could be completely wrong, the person who would know because he taught himself astronomy (and I don't mean he knew where the Big Dipper was...I mean he knew the mathematical/scientific terminology and locations...and did this with only an 8th grade education, so anyone who wants to tell me that higher education creates the intelligent person is just so desperately trying to make themselves seem more intelligent cause they have education...some of the stupidest people I have met, I met while in college...), well, the person who would know isn't here for me to ask. In my heart and head, I figured it was Venus. Whatever the case, it was spectacular and even though I try to ignore the heavens because you so loved them, I couldn't ignore this sight, and I thank you for that, Dad...THESE lyrics are how I feel about you...(among all my 43958296829743652785 other feelings about you...)

1000 Oceans (T. Amos)

These tears I've cried, I've cried 1000 oceans...
And if it seems I'm floating in the darkness
Well, I can't believe that I would keep
Keep you from flying
And I would cry 1000 more
If that's what it takes
To sail you home

I'm aware what the rules are
But you know that I will run
You know that I will follow you...
Over Silbury Hill
Through the solar field
You know that I will follow you...

And if I find you
Will you still remember?
Playing at trains?
Or does this little blue ball
Just fade away?
Over Silbury Hill
Through the solar field
You know that I will follow you...
I'm aware what the rules are
But you know that I will run
You know that I will follow you...

These tears I've cried
I've cried 1000 oceans
And if it seems
I'm floating in the darkness
Well I can't believe that I would keep
Keep you from flying
So I will cry 1000 more
If that's what it takes
To sail you home
Sail you home
Sail you home

Anyway, this is all. I am hungry. My soap is on...for those of you I give a shit about, well, talk soon...miss you.

I will be back one day soon!

xoxo

"Many Is A Word That Only Leaves You Guessing..."

melodya — 2007-09-12T09:48:00Z

"...guessing about a thing you really ought to know...oh...oh...you really ought to know..." And if you don't know that song right away I don't know what you have been listening to. Sorry, that was a trap. BUT YOU SHOULD KNOW IT. BECAUSE IT IS ONLY A LYRIC FROM THE BEST BAND IN THE UNIVERSE, EVER and no this isn't a hyperbolic statement....

LED motherfucking ZEPPELIN.

And if you don't know my love and history with this band, then you don't know me very well. Sorry.

I grew up with Zeppelin. My father had blacklight posters hanging up in the garage that he would pose with us as babies next to. By the time I had conscious thought I knew Zeppelin's songs....maybe not by name as any fan could tell you Zep's song titles are rarely in the song itself or relate obviously to the song itself. I don't remember a time in my history where I didn't know Zeppelin's music. When I was seven, my older brother had posters all over his own bedroom and their music was STILL playing. They (and Pink Floyd) are the soundtrack to my childhood with my father and my brother. They are my favorite band. They are the most influential rock band to ever grace us. As Billy Corgan said, "EVERYTHING in music now is just a footnote to Led Zeppelin."

Page might not have been the most clean guitar player, but the man wasn't afraid to make sonic risks. He produced, wrote and manipulated his guitar and sounds like no other. And Plant's voice...........well, what can you say? When a band can sit and write "Stairway to Heaven" in as little of time as they did, they are conduits, end of story.

And I don't need to hear about you not liking Led Zeppelin or if you think "I am the Walrus" is an example of better songwriting. You don't have to think and love Zeppelin as I do, but to not appreciate them is an example of someone's head in their ass. What is your opinion of good music then? Fall Out Boy? Again, EVERYTHING is a footnote to Led Zeppelin.

BUT the point of this tirade is.... I read a news story this morning that Zeppelin was reuniting with Bonzo's (that is John Bonham) son on drums for a concert in London...*cue me fainting...

I won't be able to go since the tickets will be 9584298374680420589728039759380247 dollars each. But it will be on T.V. and I will be watching it with breath held back...*sigh

I mean, Daniel once walked in to my apartment wearing the same exact Zeppelin shirt as I was at the time...it is called synchronicity. It is called THANK GOD for appreciation. Zeppelin is one of the few bands that my fascination isn't fangirl, it is fucking historic. And anyone that doesn't like them, why are you talking to me again? Because when it comes down to it, we will not have anything in common if Zeppelin isn't a thread. You don't have to love them...all I ask is that everyone just appreciate them and RESPECT them...My Dad when he was like in his late 40s saw John Paul Jones at his resort where he was a chef and even at almost 50 years old, ran up to him and asked for his autograph. HAHAHA...it is a prized possession in my family. We would listen to it on our family vacations driving to Nevada, Northern California, or Arizona. Zeppelin epitomizes the rock and roll life I grew up in, that my family still lives, that those I love understand. Zeppelin, beer, family, good barbeque, rad people...THAT is the good life.

We all bring the Led out. :-D

"Every tool is a weapon if you hold it right..." My IQ...ANI DIFRANCO

melodya — 2007-09-11T18:59:15Z

Hmmm...I wonder if it will post my whole description this time...So, I see all kinds of kids post videos from da youtubzzz...mostly its on their favorite scene idols OMGZZZ...Well, these are my idols... I don't know about you, but I don't know how you can't love this woman. Here she is doing her spoken-word poem, "My I.Q." and hell yes, fuckin dancing, grooving and going OFF with her dreads with her innate rhythm...her talent oozing out her pores and through her fingers...No, I didn't have any lesbian fantasies for Ani, but she got me through high school. She got me through college. She got me through a Monday...her words and talent are genuinely my soundtrack. Going to her concerts is something I miss greatly. Sometimes you actually feel the circle move...sometimes you actually can feel yourself landing at a different spot, with the same tools you held dear years ago but they look and feel different and they mean something different...and then you ask yourself how you got out of what made you happy back then? Was it just not cool anymore? Did you need new and different experiences? The thing that will always hold true is that you will come back to what comprises the real you... (And yes...this song was always on my mixed tapes about "my life..." And that quote in the title was something I wrote on my backpack that I toted around everywhere...my bag o' tricks...along with a quote from Bowie and Tori, naturally) My I.Q. when I was four years old they tried to test my I.Q. they showed me a picture of 3 oranges and a pear they said, which one is different? it does not belong they taught me different is wrong but when I was 13 years old I woke up one morning thighs covered in blood like a war like a warning that I live in a breakable takeable body an ever-increasingly valuable body that a woman had come in the night to replace me deface me see, my body is borrowed yeah, I got it on loan for the time in between my mom and some maggots I don't need anyone to hold me I can hold my own I got highways for stretchmarks see where I've grown I sing sometimes like my life is at stake 'cause you're only as loud as the noises you make I'm learning to laugh as hard as I can listen 'cause silence is violence in women and poor people if more people were screaming then I could relax but a good brain ain't diddley if you don't have the facts we live in a breakable takeable world an ever available possible world and we can make music like we can make do genius is in a back beat backseat to nothing if you're dancing especially something stupid like I.Q. for every lie I unlearn I learn something new I sing sometimes for the war that I fight 'cause every tool is a weapon - if you hold it right.

Six Years Ago...Same Day, Same Date, Same terror

melodya — 2007-09-11T17:24:00Z

I don't have much to say about September 11th...

I don't have the nice talking head nuggets, "It is a day that will live in infamy..." type of crap. I am not that inspiring, if inspiring at all. But that is the problem. Or at least a fraction of it. These massive symbolic dates in time necessitate that we provide them will a list of the things it is or it was to us. We (that is a collective "we") will never be okay with just saying it was a horrific day for humankind. No, the monster has to be found. The monster has to be targeted. The monster has to be destroyed. Even if the monster is a man that has no basis in our reality except outside of a television screen. What are we looking at? Why do we want to swallow it so quickly?

I don't have those answers, sorry.

In the words of a spoken word poem by one of my favorite musicians and New York state native, Ani Difranco will help me to weave my own words, wrap my own head, whip my own opinion into a journal worthy of the horror this date embodies at the same time as this same date will always embody being natural, because everything moves on doesn't it? Even through tragedies that become national symbols, tragedies that become the catalyst for wars that have no physcial or metaphoric end...(her words will be at the end of my useless commentary...)

What can you say that hasn't been said? I remember where I was that day. I remember who I was that day. I remember that my Dad was at the beginning stages of learning about his disease. I remember that we had an appointment to keep at Cedars-Sinai hospital. I remember my friend Sara and I went to Streetscene that weekend before, and I was waiting on a phone call from a person that I still talk to this very same day, six years later. I remember I graduated from college officially that Saturday past. I was a different person. But the events that happened on September 11th didn't change me like it changed plently of people and I am talking about those directly involved in the tragedy. I remember schools in my neighborhood in San Diego were being evacuated that day. WHAT?! A terrorist will target a random school? Yes, yes, I know copycat syndrome. But it isn't about that. It is about making tragedy your own...a tragedy that ISN'T your own so you find a way to co-opt it.

Six years later, I have experienced my own tragedy and to me it is on the scale or even bigger than what September 11th, 2001 had to offer. Because this time, it was MINE. I wasn't trying to make a tragedy my own. "OH MY GOD! I was, like, two hours away from the World Trade Center at that time..." or "OH MY GOD! I was going to get on a plane at that airport, it could have been me..." I am not trying to downplay relating to people and tragedy, but those types of attempts to relate downplay someone's tragedy. There is something in the national fabric, the cultural American DNA that doesn't make 'us' want to say rather "Wow. I had nothing to do with that tragedy. And I can't even begin to fathom the pain the families are going through." There is a very distinct difference. When people try this attempt at relating, they gloss over the fundamental part of accessing someone emotionally on a day that their life changed, and not for better or for worse, but it just changed. This blog isn't about politics. It isn't about the super-demon Al-Qaeda. I have my theories on that (...mainly that Osama bin-Laden is some sort of elaborate forgery...oh wait, I was kidding...don't put me on the list under the Patriot Act, King George! Oh wait, I am already on it...) But I remember that day six years ago, and I wasn't worried about wars. I was sick to the stomach that NO ONE remembered long enough that this was a real HUMAN tragedy. It was sucked from human to symbol to fight a war in a matter of seconds. People lost their fathers, their sons, daughters, mothers, friends...People DIED in those buildings. STOP pretending that you were a close call because you weren't and STOP pretending like you have any idea what these people went through on that day, the day their life changed when they were told their Dad wasn't coming home. It wasn't about Osama. It wasn't about Georgie Bush. September 11th became the day their Dad died. And that is the forgotten story. Because people killed on that day and because of these terrorist attacks have become default heroes and have had their humanity sucked out of them in order to up the television ratings on this day for the past six years.

So, September 11th to me is the eleventh day of September and it always will be. I am not going to pretend that someone else's tragedy was my own, even if it is four degrees of separation. I have my own "September 11th." And that is on "February 20th." But no one knows my story. Because my story doesn't sell newspapers. My story won't feed into the cultural demonization of another society and religion. My story is just mine. It is personal. But it is the weight of the world.

And so to the people that lost their fathers, mothers, and loved ones because of the terrorist attacks on September 11th. I see through the iconization of the media glare. I may not know your pain, but trust me, I will never diminish it just because you lost your loved one in a massive world event and not in the privacy of a room in the Intensive Care Unit.

Much love.

xo

...And for those with energy still left, here is Ani D's poem inspired by the attacks and what inspired my little rant...Enjoy...

"Self-Evident..."

yes,
us people are just poems
we're 90% metaphor
with a leanness of meaning
approaching hyper-distillation
and once upon a time
we were moonshine...
rushing down the throat of a giraffe
yes, rushing down the long hallway
despite what the p.a. announcement says
yes, rushing down the long stairs
with the whiskey of eternity
fermented and distilled
to eighteen minutes
burning down our throats
down the hall
down the stairs
in a building so tall
that it will always be there
yes, it's part of a pair
there on the bow of Noah's ark
the most prestigious couple
just kickin back parked
against a perfectly blue sky
on a morning beatific
in its Indian summer breeze
on the day that America
fell to its knees
after strutting around for a century
without saying thank you
or please

and the shock was subsonic
and the smoke was deafening
between the setup and the punch line
cuz we were all on time for work that day
we all boarded that plane for to fly
and then while the fires were raging
we all climbed up on the windowsill
and then we all held hands
and jumped into the sky

and every borough looked up when it heard the first blast
and then every dumb action movie was summarily surpassed
and the exodus uptown by foot and motorcar
looked more like war than anything I've seen so far
so far
so far
so fierce and ingenious
a poetic specter so far gone
that every jackass newscaster was struck dumb and stumbling
over 'oh my god' and 'this is unbelievable' and on and on
and I'll tell you what, while we're at it
you can keep the pentagon
keep the propaganda
keep each and every TV
that's been trying to convince me
to participate
in some prep school punk's plan to perpetuate retribution
perpetuate retribution
even as the blue toxic smoke of our lesson in retribution
is still hanging in the air
and there's ash on our shoes
and there's ash in our hair
and there's a fine silt on every mantle
from hell's kitchen to Brooklyn
and the streets are full of stories
sudden twists and near misses
and soon every open bar is crammed to the rafters
with tales of narrowly averted disasters
and the whiskey is flowin
like never before
as all over the country
folks just shake their heads
and pour

so here's a toast to all the folks who live in Palestine
Afghanistan
Iraq

El Salvador

here's a toast to the folks living on the pine ridge reservation
under the stone cold gaze of mt. Rushmore

here's a toast to all those nurses and doctors
who daily provide women with a choice
who stand down a threat the size of Oklahoma City
just to listen to a young woman's voice

here's a toast to all the folks on death row right now
awaiting the executioner's guillotine
who are shackled there with dread and can only escape into their heads
to find peace in the form of a dream

cuz take away our playstations
and we are a third world nation
under the thumb of some blue blood royal son
who stole the oval office and that phony election
I mean
it don't take a weatherman
to look around and see the weather
Jeb said he'd deliver Florida, folks
and boy did he ever

and we hold these truths to be self evident:
#1 George W. Bush is not president
#2 America is not a true democracy
#3 the media is not fooling me
cuz I am a poem heeding hyper-distillation
I've got no room for a lie so verbose
I'm looking out over my whole human family
and I'm raising my glass in a toast

here's to our last drink of fossil fuels
let us vow to get off of this sauce
shoo away the swarms of commuter planes
and find that train ticket we lost
cuz once upon a time the line followed the river
and peeked into all the backyards
and the laundry was waving
the graffiti was teasing us
from brick walls and bridges
we were rolling over ridges
through valleys
under stars
I dream of touring like Duke Ellington
in my own railroad car
I dream of waiting on the tall blonde wooden benches
in a grand station aglow with grace
and then standing out on the platform
and feeling the air on my face

give back the night its distant whistle
give the darkness back its soul
give the big oil companies the finger finally
and relearn how to rock-n-roll
yes, the lessons are all around us and a change is waiting there
so it's time to pick through the rubble, clean the streets
and clear the air
get our government to pull its big dick out of the sand
of someone else's desert
put it back in its pants
and quit the hypocritical chants of
freedom forever

cuz when one lone phone rang
in two thousand and one
at ten after nine
on nine one one
which is the number we all called
when that lone phone rang right off the wall
right off our desk and down the long hall
down the long stairs
in a building so tall
that the whole world turned
just to watch it fall

and while we're at it
remember the first time around?
the bomb?
the Ryder truck?
the parking garage?
the princess that didn't even feel the pea?
remember joking around in our apartment on avenue D?

can you imagine how many paper coffee cups would have to change their design
following a fantastical reversal of the New York skyline?!

it was a joke, of course
it was a joke
at the time
and that was just a few years ago
so let the record show
that the FBI was all over that case
that the plot was obvious and in everybody's face
and scoping that scene
religiously
the CIA
or is it KGB?
committing countless crimes against humanity
with this kind of eventuality
as its excuse
for abuse after expensive abuse
and it didn't have a clue
look, another window to see through
way up here
on the 104th floor
look
another key
another door
10% literal
90% metaphor
3000 some poems disguised as people
on an almost too perfect day
must be more than poems
in some asshole's passion play
so now it's your job
and it's my job
to make it that way
to make sure they didn't die in vain
sshhhhhh....
baby listen
hear the train?

This song that played is close to my heart and sonically embodies my own September 11th...the day my father died. To me, its a song of heartache and love and he loved it and reminds me of him. It played at his funeral...it played when we were in the car together. So, what song would fit better, no?

Indigo Girls "Shame On You"

melodya — 2007-09-11T11:29:00Z

I don't know what that list did, but I think that "crush" list lead me back to a time when I would listen to my girly music and get......oh jesus, "empowered." I hate that word. But I was young and listening to this song from the Indigo Girls about immigration, the beauty of my own immigrated culture and the parts of town I grew up in where tamales and cowboy hats co-existed. This song, and its lyrics, remind me of my Dad and his past and it makes me realize that I am glad I am his daughter and no one else's, even if my life would be "easier" if I was adopted by Lionel Richie...but Lionel Richie wouldn't sit on the couch and sing you "La Bamba..." and entertain you with stories about Northern California migrant farm country. So, being not-so-rich is extremely hard, but if it meant changing my parents, I say fuck you. Plus, Amy Ray may not be my fantasy wife like k.d. lang, but she would be my girlfriend on the side...This song just reminds me of easier times, or maybe it seems that way because they are so far away... Fuck it, I wanna go to Lilith Fair!