Wednesday, January 26, 2011

I'm safe up high, nothing can touch me But why do I feel this party's over? No pain inside, you're my protection But how do I feel this good sober?

When I first went on tour it was like a permanent vacation. I had no worries and no concerns. I could be trashed 24 hours a day and it wouldn't make a difference, because nothing was expected of me. And perhaps that is why I did it. I wasn't a "fuck yeah" dancing on the table and making out with groupies kind of trashed, I was more of an alcoholic trashed. Very quickly I hid it. I would drink in bathroom stalls, I would hide booze in other containers. I wouldn't feel right if I wasn't drinking by noon. I was numb.

X knew. He didn't like it, but he was as clueless as I was to try to stop it. He hid booze from me. He watched me, he made others watch me. Z was up my ass all the time since he's X's best friend. But Z wasn't nice about it. He'd say things like " I can't fucking believe that out of all the skanks that want a shot with X he married your drunk ass." That didn't make it better. I drank because I was lonely and scared.  I was out of place. I only had X and there I was defying him. I don't mean defy as in he forebode me to drink, but he loves me. And as I said before he's actually more normal than you'd expect. He doesn't want an alcoholic for a wife an he doesn't want me to be unhappy. Sadly we never figure out how to fix that.
I don't drink anymore. X convinced me that I was too good for that. It was more than that, but that is what it came down to. And after I stopped drinking I started to recoil even more. I started to become obsessive with things and try to figure out ways to break out of this. I also started writing this.
"Three finger whiskey pleasures the drinker, but moving does more than the same thing for me." 
- That line is utter BS. Moving isn't the closest thing to being free. It's the farthest thing. I don't feel free moving all the time. I feel lost and trapped and scared. I feel dis shoveled and wayward. I feel kept. X loves me. I know that. But I find myself more and more using one man's love as my rationalization for my unhappiness. But how do I leave? How can I tell him I want to go home now. And when I go home what will I do? This is all I am now. And at home I'm even less than I am now.

P!nk - Sober (Live Performance) [AMA 2008] HQ

Saturday, January 22, 2011

She's ferocious and she knows just what it takes to make a pro blush All the boys think she's a spy She's got Bette Davis eyes.

The singer's gf has been visiting. She is what you'd expect from me, all glitz and attitude. What it takes to be a wife in this business. Whenever I see her Bette Davis eyes pop into my head. The guys also act weird when she's around, sorta shady and shifty like she is a spy.

I personally don't trust her. She's like wanna be sociallite with a Victoria secrets charge card.  She's pretty don't get me wrong, but do I think she likes, loves or cares about him? Not a chance.

You don't need money,  don't take fame
Don't need no credit card to ride this train
It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes
but it might just save your life
That's the power of love - Huey Lewis and The News

Thursday, January 20, 2011

She met a man, plays in a band, last weekend

And he lives out on the west coast, she says she's gotta go.

I've heard you only like country music when you're in love or heartbroken. Those of course were the wisdom of a college boy. Right now, it's killin me. How do these good ol' boys know me so well?

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Home

bits and peices of a country song that left me glued in the novelty tshirt section of a travel center-
Maybe surrounded by
A million people I
Still feel all alone, I wanna go home
 Another airplane
Another sunny place
I’m lucky I know
But I wanna go home
I’ve got to go home
 And I feel just like I’m living someone else’s life
It’s like I just stepped outside
When everything was going right
And I know just why you could not
Come along with me
This was not your dream
But you always believed in me

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man

I feel like this today. I ended up watching some Real House Wives of show today. I hate those type of women. I think they look like a pack of hens teetering around on their high heels. It makes me giggle every time they go somewhere in a pack. One of them was told she was nothing without her famous husband. That his me hard.