What a Drag......

Those who know me are aware that I love drag queens. Yes, I know, so do many other people, but I am the one writing here, so it's about me and my affection for these dynamic performers. Last night, I attended A Drag Queen Christmas: The Naughty Tour in Portland, Maine, featuring Roxxxy Andrews, Lady Bunny, Shuga Cain, Latrice Royale, Thorgy Thor and Manila Luzon. Generally, I am not a fan of "reality TV", even most of the popular competition shows. Give me an interesting documentary or slightly dark scripted show any day, please. However, I am absolutely, unashamedly addicted to RuPaul's Drag Race. I don't care if it is the U.S.version, UK version or Drag Race All-stars, I am definitely in! I love not only the glamour and artistry that the Drag Racers bring, but it's fascinating to learn about the personalities behind the makeup, getting to know them as people and caring about them and the progress they make in the competition. Cheering when one of them wins a challenge and feeling bad when one is told to "sashay away" by Mama Ru. 

However, my appreciation for the drag arts did not begin with Drag Race. Travel back in time with me, won't you, to the year 1994 and a little film called "The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert". Priscilla is a wonderful Australian movie, starring Guy Pearce, Hugo Weaving and Terence Stamp as two drag performers and a transgender woman who are contracted to perform a show in Alice Springs. Short on funds, they make the journey from Sydney across the desert in a cheap, lavender bus they name Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Along the way, Priscilla breaks down and, well, hijinks ensue. I won't spoil anything if you haven't seen this film, but if you haven't, do so immediately! It is funny, heartbreaking and heartwarming all at once. In fact, I might go grab my Blu-ray and give it a watch after I finish this! Oh, wait, I have to bake pies for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. But I digress.

Fast forward to 1995 and the fantastic, classic documentary, "Wigstock: the Movie". After watching this film, there was no going back, I was a drag fan. The movie features such drag queens as: RuPaul, Lady Bunny, Jackie Beat, Lypsinka, Miss Coco Peru, Joey Arias and Alexis Arquette, among many others. These queens really paved the way for today's drag performers, and this documentary is endlessly fascinating. You know what, I should grab my DVD copy and watch....oh wait, the damned pies! For those not familiar with Wigstock, it was an outdoor drag festival in New York City that ran from 1984 til 2005, with a brief revival in 2018. The festival was held on Labor Day and of course, was patterned after the Woodstock festival. I was never able to attend Wigstock, but I will always love this documentary. If you have any interest at all in drag performers, please check this movie out. You will not be disappointed.

The year 1995 also gave us Patrick Swayze and Wesley Snipes in "To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar". This movie received mixed reviews, but I really had fun with this one. It's light and funny and falls right into the category of Feel-Good Movies. It is okay if the script isn't too deep emotionally, because sometimes you just need simple entertainment. Plus, John Leguizamo as Chi-Chi? That performance alone would make this worth a watch!

Okay, so I have explored the origins of my love of drag. let's zoom 

back to present day. Last night's drag show was the 4th I have attended but certainly not the last (because I have Trixie Mattel tickets for February!). I really enjoyed all the performances last night, but there was one Queen I was most excited to see in person: the legendary Lady Bunny. Now, for years, RuPaul has received the attention and celebration(well deserved)and has been considered a mentor to young queens.

Well, I'm here to tell you that Lady Bunny is every bit the trailblazer and innovator that RuPaul is. Bunny and RuPaul became roommates and best friends in their younger years (sorry, I don't know the exact dates). Lady Bunny was also the co-creator of the aforementioned Wigstock Festival. The younger queens seem to have as much respect for Bunny as they do RuPaul, which is great, but the general public may not know who she is. I was thrilled beyond words to see her and she was every bit as funny and sassy as I thought she would be. She read the audience a Christmas story in which she threw so much shade at the Drag Race queens, my side was sore from laughing! And, yes, that is my thumb holding the autographed photo. I did not get to meet Bunny, as I did not want to start a second mortgage on my house, but the guy at the merch booth ran the photo backstage to make her sign it for me! 

The rest of the show was full of dancing, lip syncing, comedy, you name it. All the queens looked beautiful, of course. I really appreciate the artistry of drag, from the makeup to the elaborate costumes to the hard work they put into their performances (in heels, no less!) I have never been a makeup artist, myself, and don't bother to wear it now, though I know my face could only benefit from some concealer! In my 20's I wouldn't leave the house without a painted face, but even then I was not that skilled at it. A drag show, to sum it up, just makes me feel happy. I apologize if that is not the most articulate of opinions, but adequate words escape me at the moment because all I can think about now are those god damned pies I have to make! Toll house chocolate chip pies, to be exact. I will conclude with some photos from last night's show......

Roxxxy Andrews

 

Shuga Cane

Manila Luzon

Thorgy Thor

Lady Bunny

Latrice Royale

Vinyl Destination

For awhile now, I have been documenting my weekend record shopping adventures on my Instagram account. I never thought anyone would care enough to read about that, but I have made some wonderful friends that seem to enjoy my weekly posts. What I typically like to do, if possible, is to spend each Saturday exploring record stores I have never been to, and maybe cities I have never been to. Of course, some weeks life or lack of funding gets in the way, but that cannot be avoided. When I am able to embark on a vinyl hunt, I spend a few days beforehand researching cities that can be a one day road trip, and once I have chosen the city (aka "the hunting grounds") I go to work researching all the record shops that particular city has and I plan my attack to make the most of our time. I realize that I am extremely lucky to have a husband that not only enjoys road trips, but who will happily take me to my city of choice (if we can afford it that week) for the day without complaint. Record shopping is not his thing, but he is fantastic at helping me flip through the records. I think he is secretly starting to enjoy it, but I won't let him know that I am on to him! And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my process.

Now, for the why I do it. When we pull into the parking lot of a record store, especially one that is new to me, I am like a meerkat: my head pops up higher, and I cannot wait for Tom to park the damn car already so I can venture inside! Okay, so maybe that's not exactly like a meerkat, but you're not the boss of me and I can describe myself anyway I want to! 😆 I compose myself as I reach for the doorknob, and as I enter, I am already scanning the room. The majority of independent record shops are very small, located in older buildings, and hard to navigate your way through if other customers are there just to get in your way and inconvenience you! Sorry, lost it for a moment there. Where was I? These shops almost always have records on wall shelves that I have dubbed the "don't go there, girl " section, because these records, though enticing, are the most outrageously expensive in the shop. Ignore their siren call unless you are okay with having no groceries for that week!

My eyes narrow as I search for the new arrivals section. I always start there, while Tom heads to the alphabetized sections to help me find the good stuff. I am smack dab in the zone when I am flipping through a bin of records, and I tune out everything else around me. When I leave a shop, I normally can't recall what they were playing on the stereo! Oh, one other thing most record shops have in common is the "old guy customer" who isn't buying anything, but rather standing at the counter, talking to the owner or employee about music, the weather, what they had for breakfast or whatever the hell else they feel like. The point is, constant babble, but I can tune that out as well, for I am focused! I don't know how to describe how I am feeling as I peruse the racks of vinyl. Excitement? A bit of that, yes. Joy? Oh yes! Contentment? Yes, that too. I love love LOVE going through the store in search of a record I have been wanting for awhile, or a record I never knew I wanted, but now I cannot leave the store without it! And when I can buy several records and still stay within my budget, that's a high I live for!😍

Once we have visited each shop on my list, Tom and I treat ourselves to either Chipotle or some greasy meal, because we have earned it, dammit! I will guzzle a couple of diet cokes, too, because record shopping is thirsty work! On the drive home, I find that I cannot wait to get home to write about the day on Instagram! Motion sickness prevents me from writing posts in the car, but occasionally if I am particularly excited to write about the day, I will risk it and whine about it later.

So, what have we learned from this post? Nothing important, other than I record shop because it makes me happy, as it makes me happy to share it with you.💓
I leave you with some pix of one of my favorite shops, Analog Underground

I got Nothin'

So, a couple of days ago, Tom and I took a ride to Castine to check out a new record store. Took about 2-1/2 hours to drive there, but we have never shied away from a road trip! The store turned out to be tiny but full of wonderful vinyl treasures, turntables, cassettes, posters and a small selection of CDs. We all know I didn't drive that far to check out CDs, don't we? But the purpose of this post is not to go into depth about my latest record shopping trip, but about the feelings this particular trip stirred up within me.

Castine, Maine is one of the oldest towns in New England, and I believe one of the prettiest. It also happens to be right next to the town where I grew up, so I suppose one could say that I am familiar with this area. Many memories from my teens, some of which I may not share due to adult themes! Then again, I just might. Stay tuned. And, I should mention, prior to this trip, I hadn't set foot in Castine for about 10 years if I had to guess.

Before we hit the town line, we passed a house where a good high school friend of mine used to live. I wasn't thinking about that, only of the record store, so it hit me like a jump scare in a horror movie! We used to hang out a lot with our group of friends, but I never once had the nerve to tell him about the secret torch I carried for him, that burned throughout those school years. My self esteem tank was running nearly on empty in those days, so I just assumed that he didn't like me "like that". Junior year, I was shocked and thrilled when he called to ask me to the prom, then instantly shattered when I realized I had to turn him down due to a trip my mother (who was living in CT at the time) had arranged for my sister and I to take with her. I begged her to let me skip the trip to go to my prom with this guy, but she was quite unmoved and I had to go on the trip. It was a nice trip, mind you, to visit my grandfather in North Carolina, but my teenage heart was definitely beating elsewhere. As we passed the house, I fought the tears as I reminisced about times we hung out with our group of pals. My reaction really caught me off guard, but I hid it well from Tom so as not to ruin our day.

Crossed into Castine, and it quickly became a town-sized trunk of memories, all hitting me simultaneously, even a bit overwhelmingly at times. Memories of the places I worked in Castine, or the places where my friends and I partied or the couple of guys from Maine Maritime Academy I dated (not at the same time! How dare you?) , and all the way back to the swimming lessons I took at the beach there when I was a kid. Uh oh, I feel stories coming on! But first, another photo:

This is the view from Main Street. You can see straight down to the town dock. At the street lamp I front of the white van, if you take a left turn, there are the buildings where Petty's Pizza and the Hardware store my friends' parents owned used to be. They seem to be vacant at the moment. The hardware store was a Saturday job, as my friends' parents (Actually, Bob who took us to the Duran Duran concert) would go away each weekend. We were 3 hormonal teenage girls and did I mention that Maine Maritime Academy is in Castine? That's right, folks, the town was crawling with college aged men and sometimes men wander into....yep, hardware stores! They also rented videos there, and since this was pre-internet, they had to rent their porno movies from us, which we found hilarious! When we weren't working, we would cruise the not-so-mean streets in my friend's jeep to check out any midshipmen ("Middies" we called them)who might be out walking--I believe we nicknamed the street Middie Lane, but we only looked, too chicken to make any moves! I was set up with a cute, silent type football player and dated him very briefly. No good Petty's Pizza stories, just waitressed there for a Summer.

Here's the town dock, and the Maine Maritime Academy training ship. The dock was the site of many peach schnapps-fueled (or beer or wine coolers, whatever we could get our underage hands on) escapades. I won't elaborate on them here, for though they are funny, they are also embarrassing!

Finally, Castine was where I met Boyd, the first guy I thought I was in love with, but at 16, do we really know what that means yet? He was a midshipmen I met at one of their dances. I was being a wallflower while my friend and her boyfriend danced, and he walked right up to me and asked me why I was sitting there all by myself. Though I was shy, I felt at ease with him and we found we were both big U2 fans. We ended up dating for awhile, and I fell deeper for him all the time, so elated to see him or receive his phone calls. But, he broke my 16-year old heart when I discovered he was seeing a girl from Castine behind my back, and I broke it off. Of course, I blamed myself for his cheating ways because I was young and stupid, and was convinced that he was my last chance at love! So dramatic I was!

So, basically, Castine is a time capsule of sorts for my teens, good memories, but also the site of my first major heartbreak. This one little town holds so much of my personal history, which I hadn't really thought about until returning there for a simple record shopping trip. 

The Awesome(?) 80's

Still working on backing up the thousands of photos I have accumulated over the years, which is forcing me into a deep dive into the wayback machine, circa the decade of decadence, the 1980s. If you were bored by my School Dazed post, you probably won't enjoy this one, either. If you do choose to join me on the journey, make sure you tease your hair up as high as you can get it (and use enough hairspray to pierce another hole in the ozone layer), wear some bright, preferably neon colors as we trek through my often times embarrassing past! You were warned!

Let's start with the above photo. This is only a small fraction of all the band pins I used to have. Many of them, um, disappeared after I left for college, along with many other collectables I would love to still have today. But I digress. These pins and others, used to grace the front of my acid washed denim jacket. Not all of them at once, but a considerable number. As if the pin devotion to my favorites wasn't enough, I loved to wear a concert shirt (I always bought the baseball jersey shirts back then) under that super-rad jacket! The bottom set of Duran Duran pins were purchased at the merch booth of the Seven and The Ragged Tiger tour in 1984. I make so secret of my Duranie status (note the Duran Duran fan club card pictured) and this concert was the highlight of my life at that point.

The concert was held in Portland, Maine, which was about a 2-1/2 hour drive from my little rural hometown, and my friend, Jenna, and I wanted to go soooooo badly, like we'd just DIE if we didn't get to go, ohmigawd! I got a very firm NO from my Dad when I asked him to take us. I pleaded my case as if I were on trial for murder! "But Daaaaad, it's Duran Duran!" said in full whiny teenage girl voice, naturally. He was unmoved by my dilemma, cause he, like, soooo didn't get it! I thought my life had ended right then. I would never be happy again if I missed this show, and my own father was my "executioner"! I did what any teenager would do, and stomped up to my bedroom to pout and cry. If you think that technique worked for me, you don't know my Dad. But, my salvation was to come in the form of Jenna's wonderful father, Bob! Jenna's parents were very close friends with my Dad, and were like second parents to me. That wonderful Bob offered to take Jenna and I to the show and to got a couple of hotel rooms for the night, and he managed to talk my steel-willed father into letting me go! Life was good again. I could see colors again and my life now had meaning! (I was 15, it's not like this happened yesterday!)

So, we got to Portland the night of the blessed event, and Bob walked us to the Cumberland County Civic Center and retreated to his hotel room to wait out the show. I don't recall if they had an opening act or who it was, and I am too lazy to google it at the moment, but they didn't matter to me, anyway!
We thought we'd never stop screaming when Duran hit the stage, and the show was everything we'd dreamt it would be. Afterward, Bob met us outside the venue to escort us to our hotel room. All I really remember of that night following was a late night viewing of Monty Python's Meaning of Life and a bit of running around the halls of the hotel. Oh, and for those that I haven't told, I was a Roger Taylor girl all the way!

This was my school picture for the 1982-83 year. Freshman year of high school in Hebron, Connecticut.The following school year I moved back to Maine.

Were those big metal braces cool or what? I don't think I had them removed until my junior year. This school year was a bit rough for me. I was shy and possessed very little self-confidence. I had a few good friends, but I still felt lonely. The high school was very big, and I felt swallowed up in it. Sensing my weakness, there were two particular girls at this school that made it their mission to make my life Hell. It's funny how sometimes good memories can fade over time, yet you never seem to forget certain bad ones. There was no physical bullying, but the psychological torment that teenage girls excel at. I let them get in my head, and felt even lonelier. When my Mom and my stepfather decided to divorce, my sister and I had the chance to move back to Maine to live with my Dad, and we jumped at it! I did have good times in Connecticut and still have some good friends from those days, so I try to think more of them when I look back. That five years of living in Connecticut helped shape the type of music I still love today. It's where my friend, Becca, took me to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show for the first time. It's where I saw my very first concert (Rick Springfield, don't judge!). Even now, after all these years, when I travel to CT it still feels a little like home.

This was taken in 1984, I think. It's the biggest I ever got my hair! No story here, just a very unfortunate perm.

This was 1985. The weird story here regards the white shirt (I'm not saying the story is interesting, just weird). I believe we all remember a certain 80's hit called Sunglasses at Night, but dreamy Canadian singer, Corey Hart. The first time I saw that video, I of course, developed a mild crush. In the video, Corey wears a-you guessed it-white shirt. So, when I bought this one, I immediately dubbed it my "Corey Hart shirt". See, I told you it was weird, but not interesting. I loved his album First Offense, but the crush kind of fizzled out when he released the awful song Boy in the Box. The spell had been broken. I still liked that shirt, though.

The final 80's pic for today (because, really, how much more can you stand?) involves my beloved U2. This was me at the 1988 opening weekend of Rattle and Hum. That's not a super short haircut, by the way, just a ponytail. Anyway, I think this cinema was in Peabody, Massachusetts? I stayed at my friend, Kathy's, house that weekend, and since she worked at that theater, we got to see the movie for free. What did we do? We saw that movie 4 times between Friday night and Saturday! Each time we would leave a screening, we'd immediately decide to see it again! I'm pictured here with the lobby display featuring Larry Mullen, Jr, who I was also crushing on! Kathy was, and is, a Bono girl all the way, and I am happy to say that we are still good friends to this day, though we don't get to see each other that often due to distance. 

Well, that wraps up today's stroll down memory lane. I was basically just selecting 80's photos and riffing on them, as I don't usually plan these posts out ahead of time. I will leave you with one last photo. All I will say about it is that it was taken in 1980 and I made and decorated that Darth Vader cake myself!

Bonding Time

Apologies to anyone who read the shorter version of this that I posted on Instagram, but I just felt like I wanted to write about it just a bit more. 

Yesterday, my son spent his day making the burgers at McDonald's, and no, he was not lovin' it. Still, he came home in a great mood. After dinner, I was relaxing on the sofa, both cats asleep and purring on my lap, as Tom watched football. Devin suddenly announced that he wanted to go to Bull Moose Music, a locally owned chain of...entertainment emporiums? How else to describe a wonderland of new and used vinyl, CD's, movies, books, 25-cent cassettes and 30-cent VHS tapes? We do have one of these awesome stores about a mile or two from our house, but Devin was insistent that we drive a half hour to South Portland, to the Mill Creek location. After a few feeble protests, I made the sleeping feline creatures take their naps elsewhere, and fired up the Kia Soul (cause that's literally how I roll) for the journey to So Po. Devin was very open, chatty and funny on the ride there, and I was immediately glad I had agreed to this spontaneous shopping expedition. Anyone who knows teenagers knows that we have to appreciate these moments while we can, as the moods can change on a dime.

Upon entering the shop, I decided to make things interesting and restricted my browsing to the vinyl clearance section to see if there were any treasures to be found there. I breezed right past the used and 97-cent record sections, resisting the urge to just look a little bit, and if you know me, you know that wasn't easy for me. Ten minutes into my search....treasure found! A new, sealed copy of Japan's Tin Drum album marked 25% off. I grabbed that (and Devin tried unsuccessfully to wrestle it away from me) and knew that I would not leave the store without it! There were about 3 or 4 more records that I was mildly interested in, but I decided not to go too crazy, as my husband and son seem to like groceries in the house! They can be so selfish like that! I settled on the Japan album and a 50% off Liz Phair record, and was satisfied that I chose the right ones. (I am going back for that Concrete Blonde album as soon as I can!) Devin was free to browse and purchase anything he liked (that sweet McDonald's money!), and he ended up buying the 25th anniversary edition of Oasis' Definitely Maybe. 

Devin browsing

As we exited the store, I figured we would just head on home, but Devin had other ideas. He asked "do you want to go to Burger King and get drinks and sit for awhile?". My icy heart melted at the thought that my beloved son actually wanted to spend more time with me! How could I possibly say no to that? So, cut to us at Burger King, me enjoying a Vanilla Diet Coke, Devin a vanilla milkshake and onion rings. We talked a bit, but our conversation was interrupted several times by a loud young girl, about 8 years old, who was dancing around, screaming loudly and constantly coming over to our table to ask us questions. I love kids, and Devin and I were nice to her, but we seriously wondered why her mother just sat like a lump in her booth, allowing her child to run around, interacting with strangers. This kid was the Quizmaster: "where did you get your glasses?" "what kind of phone do you have?" "Can I see it?" "what kind of phone does HE have?" "what kind of car do you have?" "Wanna wear this BK crown?" and on and on and on.

My favorite part of the evening was the ride home. Devin was so open with me as we talked about his feelings on certain topics, about his future plans, etc. I just let him talk and listened for the most part, waiting for his queue that my advice was wanted. I was realistic but encouraging in my advice, because I did not want to discourage his dreams but I wanted him to know that he will have to work hard to achieve them. We laughed and joked a lot as well, and I cherished every minute of it. A year from now, he could be off to college or starting his life elsewhere, so I am going to hang on to these moments while I can, and savor them. 

And, yes, he did wear the crown from the Quizmaster!

School Dazed, AKA "The Dorkening"

Hello, friends! Lately, I have been performing the long overdue task of backing up the thousands of photos on my laptop. I have them saved on a separate hard drive, but I have this fear of losing them forever, so I am backing up the most important ones onto disks as well. Better to be over prepared than under prepared, or something like that! Naturally, there are many photos from my past, and today I am going to focus on a few of my old school photos, because I have many feelings and comments about them! So, strap in, because here we go:

Oh dear, where do I begin with this one? This was me in second grade, in Surry, Maine. The only thing I really remember about this picture is that my Mom wanted me to take the white sweater off at picture time, and I forgot. I was so afraid I would be in trouble for that, but luckily, I am still here to talk about It today. Or, did I forget at all? Look at that sinister, crooked grin. That girl is up to something, and I for one don't like the looks of it! She's sitting there, all innocent and studious, with a kiss-ass apple for the teacher, but don't be fooled. Perhaps the un-removed sweater was payback for that haircut? I know I wouldn't have blamed her if it was. Is it too late to inform Child Protective Services about that hack job on my head? Or, could it have been revenge for that ugly brooch peeking out from beneath the collar? It truly boggles the mind...

Now, join me as we journey to the land of third grade Lisa. Or, maybe that is my secret twin brother? Don't get jealous, now, but I am pretty certain that the ultra fashionable jacket I was wearing here had MATCHING PANTS!!!! Oh yes, I was rockin' a pantsuit, my friends! Still sporting the short hair that my mother insisted on, but my Dad hated. They were divorced by this time, however, so she didn't have any say about my hair, and apparently, neither did I! Seriously, can I call CPS?? Completing the ensemble is that awesome bunny necklace. Did you know that the bunny's body was able to swing? Now you want one, don't you?

This one wasn't properly labelled, but I am guessing this was fourth grade. And look--the bunny necklace was back! Hey, the classics are always in fashion! Again with that hair? It's like she was daring me to report her to CPS! Can someone please check on that for me?? I guess I wasn't in the mood to smile that day. Don't know why, cause I was wearing the Hell out of that flowered dress! Why weren't the runways of Paris calling me? Perhaps when this was taken, I was starting to smell something foul?

Jumping ahead to 6th grade, and this time I was living in Hebron, Connecticut, due to my Mom's remarriage. This was a few years before braces graced my teeth, but look at that luxurious hair! Oh, I miss that thick, shiny hair I once had! My son has it now (though it's not long) and he won't give it back. Can I call Mom Protective Services on him? The clothes were fairly normal this time, so I can't say much about them. Still, you can see the origins of The Dorkening…..

I'm going to wrap things up with seventh grade. She just couldn't let me enjoy my long hair, could she? Yes, at the end of sixth grade, she made me and my sister get matching Dorothy Hamil haircuts, which you can see growing out here. Just what I wanted: a matching haircut with my 5-years younger sister! How cool is that? About two years away from braces at this point, still in Connecticut. Middle school was mostly awful, as I recall, due to two certain girls who shall remain nameless (but I remember!) that loved to call me fat and ugly all the time, and generally made my life miserable. But this is supposed to be a fun post, so let's move on. 

Hope I haven't bored you too much with my trip through my school pics! Take care! Until next time...….

Mark Hollis

,

It is widely known by now that Mark David Hollis, singer, composer, co-founder of Talk Talk, passed away on February 25, 2019 at the age of 64. Since then, many articles and obituaries have been written on his career, the incredible musical evolution of Talk Talk, his continuous influence on other artists and how he walked away from public life after a beautiful, final solo album in 1998 to live a normal life and raise his family. Since there are numerous resources for this information all over the internet and the gorgeous Spirit of Talk Talk book, I do not plan to simply rehash the facts here, though I may sprinkle some in here and there like a seasoning. What I would like to do is to talk about my feelings regarding Mark's passing. Some of you will understand this perfectly and might even see your own feelings reflected. Some of you won't understand it at all, and that's okay because this forum is for my feelings and my opinions and I don't apologize for that. I just ask that those who still don't get it after reading this will be respectful if they choose to comment.

Over the past few years, many of our musicians from the 1970's and 80's have left this Earth, and all of their deaths have been sad, but none hit me nearly as hard as Mark Hollis. I first learned of his passing probably around Feb 27th, a day or two upon returning from an annual trip to Florida. I read the headline and felt the breath leave my body for a moment and a sharp, tight feeling instantly in my stomach. I didn't cry right away, but once the news really sunk in, my eyes and cheeks were stinging from the seemingly non-stop stream of tears. I've told some friends that I had several "ugly cries" and that is exactly what they were! I listened to his music, but it became increasingly difficult to listen to his beautiful, mournful, sometimes trembling voice and those incredible lyrics without the stomach thing and the tears. Watching the concert videos and music videos? Well, I had to watch them sparingly for  awhile for the same reason. I grieved as if for a relative or close friend, and believe me, I didn't understand the intensity of it myself. The rational part of my brain continued to remind me that I never met this man, and there would have been no chance of that even if he were alive. But, I never really harbored any hope of that over the years anyway. I wasn't going to seek him out or bother him, and he might never have released any new music, but I guess I just liked knowing that he was alive and living a happy life with his family. I felt he really deserved that privacy and peace for all of the exceptionally great music he gave us. 

Let's talk about that music for a moment. How to best describe it? For those of us who love it, the music of Mark Hollis and Talk Talk gets under your skin, is absorbed into your core and you can never let it go, even if you wanted to. Depending on the song and your mood, it can raise you to euphoric heights, reduce you to a puddle of tears or just give you a lovely, peaceful feeling. If you want to dance and feel joyful, they have that for you as well. Really an all-purpose band if you think about it! I, personally have much love for all 5 Talk Talk albums, but if synths are not your thing at all, I suggest starting with The Colour of Spring and going in order from there. Listen to each all the way through in one sitting.

So where was I? For awhile after Mark's passing, I was just filled with overwhelming sadness, which I mostly kept to myself, since I still had a life and a family and had to function in the real world, and I did. There were other things going on in my life at the time as well, but I don't want to get into those right now. I noticed Facebook groups devoted to Mark and Talk Talk and discovered that there were many people out there who felt exactly the same as I did. However, it would take several months before I could bring myself to join these groups, because I felt sad and silly for feeling sad and just didn't know if I could do it. Eventually, I did reach out to some of these groups and am so glad I did, because through them I have made some really cool friends who have helped me more than they know, and I thank them so much for that!

I believe that one component of the grief, which I am really hesitant to talk about but here goes, is the sadness over the loss of youth and facing my own mortality. After all, the majority of TT's music was made over 30 years ago, and they stopped touring in 1986. Even though much of their music it timeless, those first two albums always take me back to the 80's and my teenage years in a small town in rural Maine. Before I was able to afford Talk Talk's first album, I remember listening to my little radio with my tape recorder ready to go. As soon as the song Talk Talk came on, I would do what most of us did back then, hold the tape recorder up to the radio speaker to tape the song, praying that the d.j. on Z-62 in Bangor would stop talking over the intro already, or fearing my sister or father knocking on my door and capturing that sound forever! The 80's mixtape, folks, good times!

Again, I still don't fully understand all the reasons why Mark Hollis' death was such a gut punch for me. The simple answer is that I love the music, but that is not the real reason, because I loved Bowie, too, and my sadness over his death didn't even run this deep. Mark's music has been such a part of my being for so many years now. By the way, I am doing much, much better now. Still sad, but better. I will still listen to the music, mostly without crying, as a celebration of the life of a man I never knew but who touched my soul deeply with his art. One of the few facts I know about Mark was that he loved the Spring, nature and animals. So, I think next Spring I will plant a tree or some flowers in his honor and I will continue to be incredibly kind to animals. It's the least I can do for all he gave to me, and it feels so much better than tears.

R.I.P. Mark Hollis

She's baa-aack!

Yes, boys and girls, it's the comeback that nobody was clamoring for! I started this blog almost 9 years ago, and then kind of put it aside. Laziness, lack of inspiration, life getting in the way, pick whichever excuse you like best and I assure you it will be accurate. It has recently been suggested to me (I'm looking at you, Skye!) that I start a blog. I considered this for a moment, then the light bulb went off over my head as I realized I already had a blog! A neglected blog, but one nonetheless. 

So, considerable time has passed since my last post, and in skimming some of the oldies, I noticed that there was a whole lot of my son on there. He is now almost 18, and although I will still mention him, the overall theme of the blog now is me and my weird thoughts and observations. I'm facing an empty nest next Fall when he, hopefully, leaves for college, and I need to figure out who I am again, aside from "Mom". Need to shift the focus back on me, because I tend to put my needs aside to take care of my son and husband, and that has left me depressed in the past. 

Please allow me to re-introduce myself: my name is Lisa and I live in Southern Maine. Not the Maine you probably know from North Woods Law (if you watch that show, I don't), but closer to the city of Portland, that area. I grew up in a small town in  Downeast Maine that was so rural that we had to drive an hour to Bangor to see a movie or go to a mall, drive to another town to grocery shop, you get the point. If you have ever seen the original Pet Sematary film, then you will see the area where I grew up, as it was filmed there. Seriously, watch that film, then watch the documentary on the making of that film. Go on, I'll wait...….

Now back to me! I adore music from the 1980's, particularly the genre labelled New Wave. I don't really love to slap labels on the bands I love, because labels tend to unfairly lump them together despite their differences, and saying I like New Wave could suggest to some that I ONLY like New Wave, which is not true. I LOVE the music of Talk Talk, as many do, and have since the first time I heard the song Talk Talk on my little boom box in my rural, yellow bedroom, adorned with many  posters and magazine pinups of all my faves. The combination of Mark Hollis' beautiful, haunting voice and superb songwriting, Paul Webb,dancing around with that fretless bass and power drummer Lee Harris (and Simon Brenner's synths in some cases) made them one of my all-time favorite bands. I might talk about how I feel about the passing of Mark Hollis in a future post if the mood strikes, but not sure about that yet. Let's move on.

There was more room in my teenage heart than one band could contain, and I also fell in love with an obscure little band called Duran Duran! Not sure if you've heard of them, but I was a full-fledged, card carrying, unapologetic Duranie. They were, "like, Ohmigawd, sooo cute!", but I actually heard them before I first saw them, when Hungry Like the Wolf first hit the airwaves. That song was so damn catchy! Was living in Connecticut at the time, due to parents' divorce and Mom's remarriage, and was a lonely kid, so music became my companion. By 1984, I had been living back in Mai

ne for a year or two (another divorce), when my adolescent dream came true: Friggin' Duran Duran was bringing their tour to Portland, Maine!!! Huge deal at the time, because not many bands ventured to Maine to play, so we were starved for live entertainment. But wait, Portland was a 2-3 hour drive -from my little town, and there was no way my Dad would drive my friend and I there for a concert. My friend's wonderful Dad, who was like family to me (still is)stepped up and offered to drive us to the show and get a couple of hotel rooms. I don't know how loudly I screamed when they hit the stage, because I couldn't hear myself over the other deafening screams! In case you're wondering, Roger was my favorite!

Finally, there's U2, who I discovered at the time the War album was released. I bought that album as soon as I could save my allowance, and was a lifelong fan from the first listen. I immediately sought out their earlier albums and looked forward to each release after that. Went to a couple of shows during the Joshua Tree Tour (the 1987 one, not the latest one) and saw them a few times after that over the years. Always had the nosebleed seats, so I wasn't even sure if it was U2 I was seeing! In 2015, my U2-loving friend and I got to see them in Boston and this time, we were right up against the stage. I regressed to my teenage alter ego as soon as they hit the stage, and was mesmerized as we were so close to them. Let me tell you, Larry Mullen, Jr is even dreamier in person! I know, many people like to hate on Bono and U2. They say Bono is too arrogant, has a God complex, whatever, I have heard them all. Unless Bono one day goes to an animal shelter and slaughters all the puppies, I will still like him and still love U2's music. 

Okay, I have gone on long enough in this, my re-introductory post on my hopefully revitalized blog.

Until next time.....