I miss my bereavement group

One of my most cherished experiences ever was the shared pain I felt during the many sessions of my bereavement group. Those were some powerful moments; being able to open up and discuss such a profound loss without feeling like I was making others feel uncomfortable or like all I was after was self pity. All I wanted, all I needed, was for someone to listen who knew firsthand what it was like to lose someone. I had never had that type of discussion with anyone before. I had never thought about death so seriously before. Being able to share that with a group of people and listening to them share back was powerful. It didn't make me feel any less scared for all of us and our mortalities on the line, but it felt good to openly talk about something that is so taboo. Death is so mysterious. Not a day goes by where I don't reflect on it and am so happy that I am still here and that my friends are still here and that my family is still here. By now I have been through a few deaths, one of my best friends and both of my parents. Mourning my mother is always fraught with some type of guilt. There are so many things I wish I had done differently. We fought a lot and I spent a lot of energy disliking her or feeling ashamed because of her. And I feel like there were not enough good times between the two of us. I just didn't think her life would end so soon. There were things that I couldn't say to anyone of my friends or family, but I could say them in front of a group of strangers who were brought together by a common death thread. The bereavement group saved me, especially since I lived far from home and had no quick access to friends or family anyway. I had moved to California from New York. Everyone was in New York and my poor mother suffered with cancer for ten months while I was on the other side of the country. The bereavement group helped me tremendously. I went for about six months, I think. I moved back to New York eventually, and despite being surrounded my family and friends again, I still need that group.

my goal...

How odd, my "comeback" as a blogger already produced hate mail. Geez, here I am attempting to write and some harsh critic lashes out before I can begin. How cute. Anyway, my so called life, my real freelance writing job, and my concert calendar have all prevented me from giving Tone Frenzy any real attention or any attention at all for that matter. I will change that and begin putting my voice out there. This voice for now will call it a night. It is just past 11:30 at night in NYC and it is time to wrap up the evening, wrap up that joint, smoke, and then sleep. Tomorrow is a new day to talk about death, my cemetery adventures, and whatever else I can think of. And if this blog is too slow for you, then EVS, dude. Yeah, way too much Rockstar watching for me.

Worst blogger EVER!

Let's face it, I am not a real blogger. Anyone, by some miracle, who happens to cross my desolate path will see that I blog once every other year or so. It is pathetic. I love writing and reading other people's work. I just lack the committment of those daily, hell, even weekly bloggers who always have something to say and apparently, the time to say it. Sometimes, it seems bloggers are just so self-absorbed. But every now and then, you come across a real insightful, funny, gem of a blog- one that does not try too hard. That is what I would like to do.

But you know what, that is going to change. I am doing this for myself, because I love the art of writing and entertaining. I don't really advertise this blog to any of my friends, they mostly check me out here at my myspace page:
http://blog.myspace.com/seedyxtina

But I will try to no longer be the worst blogger ever to have entered cyber space and I will try to post at least weekly my most interesting commentary. It will be graphics free for a while until I learn how to do it. In the mean time, my philosohpy on anything will be self-published right here on Tone Frenzy.

So, that is my intro- it is the beginning of a new era, an era where I will exercise my brain and write out all thoughts- the good, the bad, and the ugly for myself and any audience who cares. But mostly, it is for me.

Ok, let's see if I can do it. Thank god, Rockstar Supernova is almost over (my present guilty pleasure). That will give me some more writing time.

Jackson Heights loves the Ramones

Yesterday, Saturday June 11th- I chose to wear my black (of course) t-shirt of the Ramones to wear on my way to the Forrest Hills New Yorks Sports Club. On my walk to the 74th/Broadway station in Jackson Heights I spotted a young woman wearing the same shirt. We smiled at each other in solidarity. In the east village this is not an uncommon phenomenon, but in Jackson Bites it sure as hell is. I don't even see anyone in Forrest Hills wearing Ramones tees and that is the neighborhood that spawned this awesome punk band. But then, it gets weirder. When I was back in my hood from the gym another girl was wearing a Ramones tee. I couldn't believe my eyes. Two Ramones t-shirt sightings in one day in Jackson Bites??? Are there really like-minded punk rockers in my neighborhood? Can a cool punk rock bar to replace the Archie Bunker Budds bar be next? Ha, fat chance!

Jackson BITES!

I met a very cool neighborhor about a year ago and to this day we are good buds. And we first met at the only bar I can stand hanging out in in my hood, Budds Bar. Sadly, that little hole in the wall full of drunken Archie Bunkers is now closing. Geez, there ain't much in Queens, but now this? I will go easy on this bourough, it ain't all that bad. I am a Manhattan native that moved out because I wanted more space for my hard earned money. It is a nice place to be and my apartment rocks. But I find the east village is still the only place I can hang in, despite its increasing frat boy prescence. But when I am too lazy to go across the river, Budds sufficed as a nice haven for me and my friends in Queens. Now Budds in getting ready to join the likes of Tupelo, a cool divey punk bar in Astoria. The ONLY other bar I like is the Bohemian Beer Garden in Astoria. But if I am going to travel that far, I might as well go to the East Village.

Jackson Heights, Baby!

Ok, I am not a great blogger since I hardly ever post. That is because NO ONE is reading this shit. But, in case some does, I have to post a little discovery that I made about Jackson Heights, where I am presently an apartment owner. This area is cheap! Yippee!

Now, I am a manhattanite; Manhattan native; Manhattan snob. However you wish to call it. I love NYC, and by NYC, I mean Manhattan. But, since moving back from California in 2001 I have grown a huge fondness for the boroughs. Growing up in Manhattan with my Manhattan centric family, I never crossed the river unless it was to go to Shea Stadium or the airport. My mother and I did a brief stint in the Bronx, two years, so that she could get her degree at Lehman College, but as soon as she graduated, we got the hell out. By the time I had a life of my own, I left New York altogether and went to the left coast for a while. When I came back I could no longer afford to live in the island that spawned me. That SUCKS! So, I got familiar with Astoria. Visited friends all over Queens and Brooklyn. Even hung out there and saw shows. A new world opened up for me. I even got my own place in Jackson Heights. I ain't saying I have Queens pride, but I do have a huge appreciation for it. This borough is alright. It ain't hip though. Astoria and Long Island City are trying, but the east village still rules in my book.

But, the whole point of blogging today was to talk about my quest for fixing a zipper on one of my favorite shirts. I went to a cleaners in Astoria and they told me it would cost $13. I went to a cleaners in Forrest Hills (birthplace of the Ramones) and they said it would cost $25. I don't know why I did not go to the cleaners in my own hood first, but when I did, the guy behind the counter said he would fix my zipper for FOUR FUCKING DOLLARS! JH wins, baby!

You might like it better...

I was sock shopping at the Sock Man store on St. Mark's when the employees said, "Hey, its the lead singer from Fear Factory". I looked up and thought, who? I hadn't heard of Fear Factory. Had no clue. But one look at the guy and I knew it must have been a heavy metal band. The employees small talked with him while I was deciding which panty hose to buy. I glanced at him unphased, but still wanted to check him out. I love star sightings when they are not really my star sightings. I can act all cool and nonchalant about it. I find out later that the lead singer's name is Burton C. Bell and that his band toured a year ago. One of employees asked me if I knew who he was and I said no. He then started to chat me up, like wanting to know what music I listened too, etc. After buying the socks I went on Fear Factory's web site just to make sure that it was the same guy. Yep, there he was, the guy that I saw at the Sock Man, who looked like every other guy with long black hair on St. Mark's Place. Made me think of Moby's song, We Are All Stars. Because stars can blend right in, especially in St. Mark's, NYC.

This ain't no fucking around

This ain't no fucking around- those are the words uttered by Frank Black in the Pixies' song, Planet of Sound- and also my dear friend Kevin's favorite quote of the night. Kevin, Mike, and I drove all the way to Camden, NJ to see the Pixies. Camden was reported recently as the worst crime ridden city in the U.S. It surpassed Detroit which came in second. Now, being a city girl/New Yorker, I've been to a lot of rough hoods- but this place looked like shit. And yet, the Tweeter Center is its own entity and last night it housed one of the best concerts I've seen in a while. This Pixies fucking rocked. I am soooo greatful for having seen them. Its shows like this make life worth living. This is why I take shit from work. Its not because I love my job- its because I need the money to go to CONCERTS. Because I need the money to TRAVEL to these CONCERTS. These shows are my church ceremonies. My music is my savior. Praise the Pixies!

Unfortunately, at 2am after the show I got lost trying to find my way home. Mike was tired and I think wanted to strangle me, though he won't admit it. But I figured it out after two detours where we enjoyed the creepy jasony wooden scenery of New Jersey. We made it home at 3:45 am. I went to sleep still high on the music. Yeah, this ain't no fucking around.

star sightings

I don't see stars that often. Or maybe the ones I have seen are just "actors". Yeah, the "stars" are the ones I see on stage with an instrument and I want to fuck. The latest "actor" was Matthew Brodrick. I walked by him on a subway stop, Wednesday, November 24th. I was going in as he was leaving. We made eye contact for a solid 2 seconds. I love staring down actors! I gave him the "I know who you are look" but was cool about it. He gave me the "I know you know who I am look" and kept walking. He is about two inches shorter than me. And everyone within a 3 feet radius began to do the double take glance ans they passed short, but sweet Matthew. Cool!

So what does it take for me to write? Still trying to figure it out. I write more shit in my private microsoft word in the form of fiction than I do on this thing. Let's see... I saw Ron Livingston in person on St. Mark's Place. Good looking man. A freakin' fox. Hmmm.

The Nirvanna box set looks like it will kick ass. Why are most of my favorite artists dead?