A Night to Live Again

Tattoo and Music Junkies UNITED

Join us for a Scary frightful Night

Peirce your hearts with speakers Delight

Give the middle finger until it feels just Right

Let the sweat pour Out

Let the screams take Route

It's a night of Sin

It's a night to live Again

Sky Lifting

When the sky lifts and the clouds linger there is an electricity that sets into the air. I watch as the wind picks up as trash cans start to roll down the street. The temperature finally starts to drop with the wind blowing through my hair. Random thunder with no warning, the windows shake. There might certainly be a storm passing through here tonight but not as the sun breaks. A little change in weather can bring relief, but tomorrow will come, good grief.

Creep

One. Step. Away. From. You. Creeping up...on You.

Scott E. Beatty - Dad

That moment destroyed a part of me. There is a type of burnt, black, void that will never be filled again. The world, nature, life, took away the most precious, strong, and ongoing relationship, influence, in my life.

No matter the advice, the kind words, the condolences, and thoughts, this does not, and will not, get better. Fine, you learn to live with it, move on, but the hurt and pain goes nowhere. Sometimes, just when you think it's peaceful, or you might be far enough away from the sadness to take a breath, there's a trigger that evokes all those tears again.

Although death comes swiftly to some and there tends to be comfort in that, there is no comfort in death when you live with a full awareness of life.  A celebration of life is important, and the best thing we can hang onto, however, it's not easy.

Yes, I am sad, and finally angry. I am angry at people and my own emotions. You don't get to forgive and forget just because someone dies. It's horrible to see so many people attempt at accomplishing their own remorse over a dead man's body. Reflection is the only way to accomplish forgiveness from yourself, not other people.

I struggle every single day. People move on so quickly, and they have every right to. What do you do to honor someone that wasn't just a Father or a Best Friend? There are days, weeks, and months to come, where my coping mechanism will alter, during those changes I must find an outlet. Tattoos and memories only take you so far and are not an appropriate crutch. I hope that I can use the strength that might come from this to comfort my friends in the future. This is one of the few comforts I might take away.

Every time I hear a siren is stirs my blood. Every time I hear a motorcycle I find pricks from pins and needles. When I see someone on a cell phone, for any reason, while driving, I want to follow them and destroy their device. Your life is not as important as anyone else and cell phones lend us that illusion. Everyone else can wait if it will save a life.

I will leave you with this poem by Siegfried Sassoon (1886–1967). 


                                                      The Death-Bed

HE drowsed and was aware of silence heaped
Round him, unshaken as the steadfast walls;
Aqueous like floating rays of amber light,
Soaring and quivering in the wings of sleep.
Silence and safety; and his mortal shore	5
Lipped by the inward, moonless waves of death.
Someone was holding water to his mouth.
He swallowed, unresisting; moaned and dropped
Through crimson gloom to darkness; and forgot
The opiate throb and ache that was his wound.	10
Water—calm, sliding green above the weir.
Water—a sky-lit alley for his boat,
Bird-voiced, and bordered with reflected flowers
And shaken hues of summer; drifting down,
He dipped contented oars, and sighed, and slept.	15
Night, with a gust of wind, was in the ward,
Blowing the curtain to a glimmering curve.
Night. He was blind; he could not see the stars
Glinting among the wraiths of wandering cloud;
Queer blots of colour, purple, scarlet, green,	20
Flickered and faded in his drowning eyes.
Rain—he could hear it rustling through the dark;
Fragrance and passionless music woven as one;
Warm rain on drooping roses; pattering showers
That soak the woods; not the harsh rain that sweeps	25
Behind the thunder, but a trickling peace,
Gently and slowly washing life away.     .    .    .    .
He stirred, shifting his body; then the pain
Leapt like a prowling beast, and gripped and tore
His groping dreams with grinding claws and fangs.	30
But someone was beside him; soon he lay
Shuddering because that evil thing had passed.
And death, who’d stepped toward him, paused and stared.
Light many lamps and gather round his bed.
Lend him your eyes, warm blood, and will to live.	35
Speak to him; rouse him; you may save him yet.
He’s young; he hated War; how should he die
When cruel old campaigners win safe through?
But death replied: ‘I choose him.’ So he went,
And there was silence in the summer night;	40
Silence and safety; and the veils of sleep.
Then, far away, the thudding of the guns.

Bronchitis Bliss...shake it up...Depression with a Twist

At the end of November I came down with Bronchitis for the first time. I had it for four weeks before I returned to work. I worked through the holidays and into the new year. Bronchitis really wore me down and I had a lot of time to think, or watch T.V.

I watched an extreme amount of T.V., Netflix. It was all I could do, other than read. I should have read more, but I just zoned out. I spent so much time watching tube that now I'm addicted. I've recreated an old habit that took me years and years to break. I used to have the T.V. on as background noise while cleaning, talking on the phone, making art, and eating. I took away television from my life all together once I obtained my first apartment years ago. When I married I accepted T.V. into my life again. Now I'm back where I started.

I'm distracted, constantly. I'm ready to take the T.V. away, or at least put it in a corner. I love my studio, but I keep ending up in my main living area and I'm not accomplishing much.

My mission this weekend is completely within reach, but I have to get away from the T.V.!!! It's a new year, and this is NOT how I want it to start.

The depression part of this little revelation is related to how down and out I get when I allow my day to be wasted in a black hole of TUBE! Gotta get out.

Coffee & D&B....

Leather jacket, black hoodie, black boots, holy jeans, and some funk D&B playing while I bounce.

The ring of vibration shakes inside my coffee cup and visualized with the brown, smooth, liquid inside.

I forgot how AWESOME D&B can make me feel, make my bones feel, and this is ..... well ....check it out.

(click on the title of this post!)

Detective's Filter

As the dusk light filtered through the front window and passed the lace curtains she stood in the off white light waiting. The door crept open as his eyes met with hers. As they embraced, although it was genuine, his mind was filled with the blood and gore of the murder he'd just seen before. The aftermath of a killer's deed weighed heavy on his mind with the crush velvet of her lips.

It was 2am and he sat up, grabbed his pants, said "you're a doll, but I gotta go", and left out the front door. On his way out the sun was poking it's head again. The rays of light greeted him with little effort as he struggled to push his feet back to the scene of the crime.

Lita Ford

I got to meet Lita Ford! Best Day EVER!

He climbed high above while I stayed stationed below.

He moved on with hatred, but only in my mind.

I shoved onward trying to be more like him.
Don't think about it.
Delete.
Purge.
Move on.
Go forward.
Do NOT look back.
I got caught up in my reminders and got some gum under my shoe.

He woke up.

He says many things that I love.

I am still the same, not matter how much I tried to be like him.

I am still thinking. Now he's thinking too. Oh, what will we do?

Chapter 8 is about to begin. There will be life, full of life.

Stay tuned.

With our Tender Bellies Wrapped in Bailing Wire

For My Best Friend - TMJ
For his solace and soul.
(i know there's a spelling error in the drawing)