It's show time folks!

This is me lately, the cigarette in the shower, eye drops and dexedrine. Nah, it's more like three ibuprofen and another cup of cold coffee. But I do pay homage to the movie,"All that Jazz," by saying, "It's show time." When I slam some more pills and speed to keep me going. I can't do speed. Once, in college, I got some. And I was funny. Oh, I was so funny. And then I crashed, hard. Fucking hard. I started screaming at a girl on my dorm floor and she never talked to me again. And I've never done real speed since then. Coffee is good enough. Maybe the Allegra provides a nice ECA Stack effect. And if you feel like getting down to some George Benson - then you can watch some dance tryouts to go along with it.

I am preparing a metric ton of art for some upcoming art shows. It's almost show time. Back to the drugs. And the wet smoke in the shower.

Porky's Drive In, St Paul MN

Porky's Drive In, St Paul MN
Originally uploaded by Debora Drower.

Amy, I'll meet you at Porky's. I so need a milk shake. And someone to listen to me. You always say a Porky's milkshake can cure just about anything. Right? Shit, what a week! I'll probably get the Cruiser Combo and I'll get you whatever you want. Just get your ass over there, OK? Ok? No excuses, no standing me up. It's been a long time so let's do it. It's been four fucking years. Four fucking years. I'll be waiting at one of the picnic tables. Maybe it'll be weird talking to you - I mean I know when you're there even if no one can see you. We'll talk and eat and I'll have a great time talking to you and pretending you're still alive. And still my friend.

love, Debora

Portrait of a young girl

It's a picture of me modeling one of my mom's quilted jackets. I remember reading the book,"A Winter's Tale" where Beverly and Peter Lake are having their portrait painted. Years later, Peter (who then has amnesia) sees the painting and the past is restored to him. As my mom took the picture, I was thinking of Burt, my high school boyfriend. How I'd see him later that night. It was summer and we'd probably listen to my crappy music tapes on the Radio Shack tape deck my dad installed in my mom's 1972 Toyota Corolla. Maybe we'd end up at the beach at Northwestern or the lighthouse. Or we'd just cruise. And while Burt is long gone, I have nice memories captured in a portrait.

Public Enemy and amping

Back in our MCAD days, I’d go to Caroline’s and we’d listen to Public Enemy. There’s a line in the song, “Fight the Power” where they sing, “I'm ready and hyped plus I'm amped, Most of my heroes don't appear on no stamps.” Then we both started using the word amped and no one could remember who started it first. I claimed because she had the album, it was her. She thinks it was me. Either way amped, amping is OURS.

On my birthday this year, I get a garbled voice mail message. I almost delete it. It’s not name I recognize on the Caller id. It is an Austin, TX number. The person is calling from it sounds like a Public Enemy concert. It sounds like the “amped” part of the song. I had to play it a few times. I send Caroline an email wondering if it was her. She was so proud I figured out it was a friend’s cell phone and yes at a Public Enemy concert. And I share a birthday with Flava Flav!!!

Today, I’m the white guy in the car screaming along to Public Enemy. I pull up at work, turn off the music and a black guy parked in car nearby asks what I was listening to. I cannot believe an older black guy would not know Public Enemy. He didn’t. And tells me the singer sounds like James Brown. I break it to him that it’s an old angry rap group. I walk into work laughing. I have to find someone and laugh about a tiny white girl telling a black guy about Public Enemy. Sad. Makes you want to amp about it.

Bad Pants and moon dust in your hair

I had a hideous pair of pants similar to the ones shown. I can remember wearing these pants to first grade. Bad in many ways; I hated how they looked. And they itched. Like fucking crazy. They were wool, so I was in loud pants made me feel crazy and hot. I got cranky wearing them and it caused a day something like in "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day." I wanted to kill everyone in my first grade class. If my classroom had a phone in it back then, Australia would've been on the speed dial. No I don't think they have those kind of pants in Australia. I came home from school after that day of itchy, cranky, loud and ripped those fuckers OFFF!!! The next time I had to wear those pants I remembered the shitty day I had wearing them and they became known as, "The Bad Pants." I think there were additional shitty days. As a kevetching Jew, I wore them every chance I could get. Ba dump bump!

Now if I had a pair of magical pants. I look great in them, everyone would laugh at my jokes and would find me utterly attractive. If I wore them, candy would fall from the sky and the the angels would get together and decide to create a dream come true. So they sprinkled moon dust in my hair of gold and starlight in my eyes of blue. Oh whoops, getting all Carpenters on you. It's in your head (it's in mine) so go ahead. Play it. It'll help with the ear worms and the sadness of the bad pants Where are those magic pants? Huh, fairies? Would the moon dust help?

There was a boy, there wasn't a boy

I love this scene from the movie the Prestige. The angry man and what he says to his wife. It kills you. It rips my heart out to hear her ask, "Do you love me?" And he replies, "Not today, no." Oh ouch. Isn't that it. Some days they love you, some days their eyes light up and some days it's a stone cold no, I don't love you today. So why...why? And crying hard, leaning over the sink you think about the how the water would wash the cuts clean if you reached for the big knife in the dish rack.

There was a boy, there wasn't a boy. And you doubt your memories, you deny the truth and hope that maybe tomorrow - he'll love you then.

White

White, the color is very calming and healing to me. I was chanting this last night out on a walk:
White clouds
White
White frosting
White
White light
White
White bright
White
White healing energy
White
White snow
White
White sheets
White
White healing energy
White
White mayo
White
White sheets
White
White curtains blowing
White
White cotton balls
White
White skin
White
White Oreo inside
White
White bread
White
White paper
White
White
White
White
White

Orange Crush St Paul, MN

Orange Crush Laundromat, St Paul, MN
Originally uploaded by Debora Drower.

I am smitten
I'm the real thing
(I'm the real thing)
Won't you be my valentine?
My crush with eyeliner

New Shoes

When I was kid, we had a park nearby. It was a nice park. I can remember this slide. Not a tall slide, not the skinny kind but a wide one. Short and wide. Kinda dumb. And metal. Hot metal to burn your ass off. Maybe it was for the really little kids. But we wouldn't let them play on it. We didn't slide on it - we'd walk up it. Or burn our asses. You could tell how old your shoes were by the traction you got going up the slide. It sucked when the tread was totally worn down and you'd slip and fall. Then you'd have to slide and burn your ass. A bummer on many fronts. Then there'd be that magical hot summer day. The trip to the shoe store. Air conditioned and smelling of leather and shoe spray. I know once I got PF Flyers. Or was it Keds. I took the ad to "run faster and jump higher" seriously. I kicked my old shoes under the bed, put on my new shoes and ran to the park. Or flew. I could walk up the slide. I was the king of the playground. For that day. For a while when you put on your new shoes, they're magic. They make you feel alive. You really could fly if you knew how. At some point, you don't even realize it but the new shoes have become commonplace. Just a part of the scenery. Worn in. Worn down. Sometimes you go dig out the old pair - they're comfortable, worn in even if they are missing some tread. Someday, the new pair, will get old, lose it's power and shoved under the bed.