A myriad of rambling thoughts and ideas from an old broad who has been there, done that, bought the T-shirt and threw it away a long time ago. However, this old broad still has a lot to say. Here we go...
Sunday, January 30, 2011
ANOTHER EARLY MORNING
It was a "quiet night" as evenings go at the Aqua. But it was wonderful because I got to do some awesome requests...songs that I wouldn't have thought to play. Thom and Kev brought out a table of friends and we had so much fun - I love this place...I'm their "Mom" and they call me "Sweetheart" and "Boo" and "Darlin'" and it's been so long since I've been loved like the people here love me. I'm sitting here watching old Superbowl NFL film and writing this happy little blog because I can't sleep but this time it's not because I'm worried or sad or anxious...just happy. Sore everywhere...from my fingers to my shoulder to my back and right down to my toes...and I don't care...ice will fix this. What hurt more was the ache in my heart until I started singing at this wonderful place. I get to be me...Patti Lee...again. Life is good. I sang "Imagine" for the people in Egypt. I hope they heard me. Anything is possible...I believe again.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
A HOUSE
There is a house in Whitefish Bay that keeps calling me. A house where I am supposed to live. I am writing to the universe here, because I know this blog is just for me, the insomniac old broad. A few stiff drinks and a XANAX and I'm still awake at 2 am. Wishing I had my Gramma's dining room table back in the room where it belonged. Setting up my music room in that great old basement. Living in a place where I could see my parents and family as often as I wanted. After all my travels, that tiny trip from Whitefish Bay is NOTHING. They would all get sick of me.
I have a little pipe dream of a house where I want to live. Perhaps God has a moment to listen.
I have a little pipe dream of a house where I want to live. Perhaps God has a moment to listen.
ONE MORE FOR KEITH
I don't have words to express my gratitude to Keith Olbermann for what he created...a voice for those of us who believe that everyone should have a voice. He was righteously difficult, fiercely steadfast, willful, complicated and unrelenting...because he believed in everything he said and did. I'll not be an apologist for the stories I've read about the Olbermann disposition. It dissuades me not from my admiration, awe and complete "fandome" for what he has been, what he has said, and what he has done. He is among my heroes and I await the time when I will fist in the air celebrate the moment he reappears in the media. Take a break, my friend who knows me not. You deserve a rest after the losses of the past year. Then, come back with humor and vengeance and all the force that is you. I envy and admire and wait again for your astounding talent to challenge everyone, including your bosses, once again.
Friday, January 21, 2011
GOODBYE KEITH
Several years ago my son introduced me to MSNBC. I was dealing with health and life issues and spent my days ranting and believing that there was nowhere to go for some truth and reality. Of course, my internal truth magnet took me right to Countdown.
I don't know what I'm going to do. I know Keith has more options than a cheerleader at a playoff game but I don't. I can't afford HBO or SHOWTIME. As it is, I pay way too much for TV but Keith needs to be where Bill Maher currently resides...a home where he can be Keith without Comcast coming in and tempering the truth.
I love Rachel and Lawrence and Ed and Dylan...Morning Joe is challenging and at times I want to reach into the TV and choke Joe but I have to say that in the world of civil discourse, he gets an A. That's coming from a 60's liberal.
But Keith? My voice? The one I turned to for relentless validation of my fury at what and who these wingnuts are and the danger they pose to our republic? (Just in case any of you wonder about my use of that word, we are not a democracy, we are a republic. A democracy would engage a simple majority vote and a lot more would get done. Don't get me started...)
I have cried, I've had a few drinks, I've read some blogs, I've played "Angry Birds"...I can't sleep because Monday I won't have Countdown. I don't even know how to write Keith to tell him what he has done for me and for my elderly mother who adores him. What will SHE do without him.
I have signed the petition to block the Comcast/NBC takeover. Even if we are successful, I doubt that Keith would just give them back what they so easily gave away...the flagship of a network.
Perhaps I'll try to write between 6 and 7 pm each day. That would be a worthy tribute to Keith. I don't know, I'm lazy and fickle, just like most Americans. One thing, however, is for certain. I will sadly and truly miss him.
I don't know what I'm going to do. I know Keith has more options than a cheerleader at a playoff game but I don't. I can't afford HBO or SHOWTIME. As it is, I pay way too much for TV but Keith needs to be where Bill Maher currently resides...a home where he can be Keith without Comcast coming in and tempering the truth.
I love Rachel and Lawrence and Ed and Dylan...Morning Joe is challenging and at times I want to reach into the TV and choke Joe but I have to say that in the world of civil discourse, he gets an A. That's coming from a 60's liberal.
But Keith? My voice? The one I turned to for relentless validation of my fury at what and who these wingnuts are and the danger they pose to our republic? (Just in case any of you wonder about my use of that word, we are not a democracy, we are a republic. A democracy would engage a simple majority vote and a lot more would get done. Don't get me started...)
I have cried, I've had a few drinks, I've read some blogs, I've played "Angry Birds"...I can't sleep because Monday I won't have Countdown. I don't even know how to write Keith to tell him what he has done for me and for my elderly mother who adores him. What will SHE do without him.
I have signed the petition to block the Comcast/NBC takeover. Even if we are successful, I doubt that Keith would just give them back what they so easily gave away...the flagship of a network.
Perhaps I'll try to write between 6 and 7 pm each day. That would be a worthy tribute to Keith. I don't know, I'm lazy and fickle, just like most Americans. One thing, however, is for certain. I will sadly and truly miss him.
Monday, January 17, 2011
STORIES
For years people have told me that I should write a book. I agree. I've attempted to put together fiction based on life, fiction based upon ideas, and enough autobiographies to paper my bathroom. So now I've decided that this blog will be stories.
I'll still do random rantings about things that are happening, but I have so many stories to tell. Who knows...maybe if I just collect enough of them I can make that a book. Or two or maybe even three.
So here's the first one.
My buddy, Bill (Now Liam) McCurry is turning 86 tomorrow. We were fast friends when I played at the Wine Cellar in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It was a great place...lots of star quality entertainment passed in and out of those door through the years of its tenure as a great entertainment venue in Albuquerque.
I auditioned several times and finally got a go...I was immediately befriended by a former weather man who was fired when they asked him how cold it was going to get and he responded by warning the public to "haul in their brass monkeys." We fell into buddyship from the get-go.
I have so many McCurry stories...we had a band of reprobates...Bill and Kurt and McCurry and Me...we did Sunday biscuits and Gravy, beer at the pick-up bar (Bill's truck) and so many songs...I can't remember if we loved Molly Malone or Waltzing Matilda or King Corracticus the most. So I'll tell you one, just off the holidays. A Christmas McCurry story.
It was two days before Christmas and the last night I was playing at the Cellar before the Christmas holidays. This was the late 70's.
McCurry came in and was in an Irish funk. "I just don't feel the holidays." I had set up my friend Eve to sneak presents in under our little Charlie Brown Tree and was anticipating my Jimmy awakening to a Christmas joy that I'd planned for a year. The only way to give him Christmas was to do what I do to this day. The minute you see something that you know is a good present you buy it, wrap it and put it away. That way all the money stress isn't at the holidays.
Anyhow, McCurry was Irishing and I was my usual no boyfriend who cares I'm going home to the love of my life who was my son, so I listened as he pined for the days when Christmas meant something. Needless to say, the bartenders gave us all the leeway they could afford till they told us lights out and "Merry Christmas."
McCurry had a pickup truck at the time and there was a 6-pack of I don't remember now beer. So we got in the truck and cracked the beers. I hoisted my feet, weary of the 6" heels, onto the dashboard and I said "let's sing." We knocked the aluminum cans together and I started...not with a jazz or pop song, but a carol.
"Silent Night...Holy Night..." McCurry sang with me. We finished the song as well as our beer. The drinking then became less important than what we'd started. "Oh Come, All Ye Faithful." "Joy to the World." "Away in a Manger."
I think we may have cracked one more beer in the time we spent in that pickup truck, my feet saying "thank you" and our hearts singing songs. I would like to say that a beautiful dusting of snow began late into our private concert...and it would be trite...but it really did happen.
As that little dust began, McCurry said "You need to get home." I replied that I couldn't wait to see the Santa scene. We air sipped the last of that can of beer and McCurry turned to me and said "Now it's Christmas."
Happy 86, McCurry. Never a Christmas passes that I don't remember that Pick-em-up Parking lot Carole song Christmas. You are forever a part of my heart and soul and I loved you then as I love you now. Happy, Happy Birthday.
I'll still do random rantings about things that are happening, but I have so many stories to tell. Who knows...maybe if I just collect enough of them I can make that a book. Or two or maybe even three.
So here's the first one.
My buddy, Bill (Now Liam) McCurry is turning 86 tomorrow. We were fast friends when I played at the Wine Cellar in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It was a great place...lots of star quality entertainment passed in and out of those door through the years of its tenure as a great entertainment venue in Albuquerque.
I auditioned several times and finally got a go...I was immediately befriended by a former weather man who was fired when they asked him how cold it was going to get and he responded by warning the public to "haul in their brass monkeys." We fell into buddyship from the get-go.
I have so many McCurry stories...we had a band of reprobates...Bill and Kurt and McCurry and Me...we did Sunday biscuits and Gravy, beer at the pick-up bar (Bill's truck) and so many songs...I can't remember if we loved Molly Malone or Waltzing Matilda or King Corracticus the most. So I'll tell you one, just off the holidays. A Christmas McCurry story.
It was two days before Christmas and the last night I was playing at the Cellar before the Christmas holidays. This was the late 70's.
McCurry came in and was in an Irish funk. "I just don't feel the holidays." I had set up my friend Eve to sneak presents in under our little Charlie Brown Tree and was anticipating my Jimmy awakening to a Christmas joy that I'd planned for a year. The only way to give him Christmas was to do what I do to this day. The minute you see something that you know is a good present you buy it, wrap it and put it away. That way all the money stress isn't at the holidays.
Anyhow, McCurry was Irishing and I was my usual no boyfriend who cares I'm going home to the love of my life who was my son, so I listened as he pined for the days when Christmas meant something. Needless to say, the bartenders gave us all the leeway they could afford till they told us lights out and "Merry Christmas."
McCurry had a pickup truck at the time and there was a 6-pack of I don't remember now beer. So we got in the truck and cracked the beers. I hoisted my feet, weary of the 6" heels, onto the dashboard and I said "let's sing." We knocked the aluminum cans together and I started...not with a jazz or pop song, but a carol.
"Silent Night...Holy Night..." McCurry sang with me. We finished the song as well as our beer. The drinking then became less important than what we'd started. "Oh Come, All Ye Faithful." "Joy to the World." "Away in a Manger."
I think we may have cracked one more beer in the time we spent in that pickup truck, my feet saying "thank you" and our hearts singing songs. I would like to say that a beautiful dusting of snow began late into our private concert...and it would be trite...but it really did happen.
As that little dust began, McCurry said "You need to get home." I replied that I couldn't wait to see the Santa scene. We air sipped the last of that can of beer and McCurry turned to me and said "Now it's Christmas."
Happy 86, McCurry. Never a Christmas passes that I don't remember that Pick-em-up Parking lot Carole song Christmas. You are forever a part of my heart and soul and I loved you then as I love you now. Happy, Happy Birthday.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
JOY JOY JOY JOY DOWN IN MY HEART
It's 3 am and I'm sipping on a cocktail as I sit here with Tillie Marie beside me...my ever present guardian and companion.
I was at the Aqua Lounge until 2 am talking about plans and ideas and rejoicing in my unexpected and treasured gift. I'm playing and singing again...to audiences who love me. I thought it was gone for good. That roller coaster of riding a room and making love to an audience. But a miracle happened and once again, I believe that prayers are answered. My lonely life has been transformed and I can now work a 9-5 knowing that there is something magical waiting in the wings.
I feel as if I'm accepting a Golden Globe. Here are the people I want to thank:
The men who were assholes because they helped me write songs that cause them ridicule and my audiences laughter.
People who wrote me off because I'm no longer young and sexy - this crowd loves me regardless.
My political friends who gave me rides and kept me in the game so that we are building a really awesome house district.
My hands that hurt but never let me down and will build up their chops again to really rock those 88's.
Thom and Kevin who gave me this place as an unintentional gift - I owe them forever for the lovely cocktail after the show that led me to this glorious new life.
Sister Alvara...the lovely, funny nun who said, after every strict and perfect piano lesson, "now play me something you heard on the radio." She gave me a voice.
My son who cajoles and helps and encourages and scolds me. He rises above his pain to care for his mother again and again. I hope that I can continue to be worthy of his concern and care.
I'm reclaiming my life and I couldn't have done it alone. I hope Jen is reading this because I want to thank her for insisting that I write something. She's hoping to get up in the morning and read a missive from her old sister-in-law. Sometimes, I hook up and write just because I know she's waiting for me. I want her to know how much it means to have a someone who cares about what I write.
This may just be my year. Whoever it belongs to, I'm claiming my portion. And, with a little help from my friends, my talent will now lead me through, once again. To my joy. My joy joy joy joy down in my heart...to stay.
God only knows when I'll get to sleep. No matter...the music afterglow is beyond description and I'm surrounded in its light. And, I must say, I really, really deserve it. Over and out for now.
I was at the Aqua Lounge until 2 am talking about plans and ideas and rejoicing in my unexpected and treasured gift. I'm playing and singing again...to audiences who love me. I thought it was gone for good. That roller coaster of riding a room and making love to an audience. But a miracle happened and once again, I believe that prayers are answered. My lonely life has been transformed and I can now work a 9-5 knowing that there is something magical waiting in the wings.
I feel as if I'm accepting a Golden Globe. Here are the people I want to thank:
The men who were assholes because they helped me write songs that cause them ridicule and my audiences laughter.
People who wrote me off because I'm no longer young and sexy - this crowd loves me regardless.
My political friends who gave me rides and kept me in the game so that we are building a really awesome house district.
My hands that hurt but never let me down and will build up their chops again to really rock those 88's.
Thom and Kevin who gave me this place as an unintentional gift - I owe them forever for the lovely cocktail after the show that led me to this glorious new life.
Sister Alvara...the lovely, funny nun who said, after every strict and perfect piano lesson, "now play me something you heard on the radio." She gave me a voice.
My son who cajoles and helps and encourages and scolds me. He rises above his pain to care for his mother again and again. I hope that I can continue to be worthy of his concern and care.
I'm reclaiming my life and I couldn't have done it alone. I hope Jen is reading this because I want to thank her for insisting that I write something. She's hoping to get up in the morning and read a missive from her old sister-in-law. Sometimes, I hook up and write just because I know she's waiting for me. I want her to know how much it means to have a someone who cares about what I write.
This may just be my year. Whoever it belongs to, I'm claiming my portion. And, with a little help from my friends, my talent will now lead me through, once again. To my joy. My joy joy joy joy down in my heart...to stay.
God only knows when I'll get to sleep. No matter...the music afterglow is beyond description and I'm surrounded in its light. And, I must say, I really, really deserve it. Over and out for now.
Monday, January 10, 2011
GOD DOESN'T WIN FOOTBALL GAMES
Okay, Jimmy told me that the national championship would be awesome. It was. Anyone who loves football got their fill with this game.
My only beef is the Auburn player (see, I don't give a shit, I just like football and I don't watch college ball because my ass would be as wide as the couch so I have chosen not to be invested in it..,so I don't know his name) probably the quarterback, who said "it's a God thing and expounded about how the win was about God."
DUMB ASS FREAKING STUPID JERK. GOD DOESN'T GIVE A HOLY FAT FUCKING SMELLY ASS WAY TOO MUCH BEEF AND JALEPENO FOLLOWED BY A LOT OF BEER CRAP ABOUT FOOTBALL.
Do you really think that with New Orleans still broken, Haiti still in ruins, genocide in so many parts of Africa, our soldiers still shedding their precious blood in Afghanistan and Iraq, a congresswoman gunned down in Tucson, just to name a few pressing issues, that God gives a happy rat's ass about a fucking football game??? Go start a happy camp for delusional athletes and take Tebow with you. We don't need Jesus as a quarterback, we need some fucking defensive liners.
It was a great game. God and Jesus had nothing to do with it. And I really like the fact that anyone who reads this vulgar tirade will be greeted with a Charlie Brown photo. NICE.
My only beef is the Auburn player (see, I don't give a shit, I just like football and I don't watch college ball because my ass would be as wide as the couch so I have chosen not to be invested in it..,so I don't know his name) probably the quarterback, who said "it's a God thing and expounded about how the win was about God."
DUMB ASS FREAKING STUPID JERK. GOD DOESN'T GIVE A HOLY FAT FUCKING SMELLY ASS WAY TOO MUCH BEEF AND JALEPENO FOLLOWED BY A LOT OF BEER CRAP ABOUT FOOTBALL.
Do you really think that with New Orleans still broken, Haiti still in ruins, genocide in so many parts of Africa, our soldiers still shedding their precious blood in Afghanistan and Iraq, a congresswoman gunned down in Tucson, just to name a few pressing issues, that God gives a happy rat's ass about a fucking football game??? Go start a happy camp for delusional athletes and take Tebow with you. We don't need Jesus as a quarterback, we need some fucking defensive liners.
It was a great game. God and Jesus had nothing to do with it. And I really like the fact that anyone who reads this vulgar tirade will be greeted with a Charlie Brown photo. NICE.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
GETTING MY LIFE BACK
Every muscle in my body aches and I have never been so happy. I am singing and playing at the Aqua Lounge in Denver. Not having hit the stage in almost 6 years, we had a night and a half and no pain in my shoulder or hands or back could compare with the joy in my heart. I got to say hello to Patti Lee once again.
Many more missives to come. The cherry on the sundae was this Sunday when the Packers won. I got the ice cream when the Jets sat Peyton Manning down. Yup, the musician jock. Only happy tonight. There will be plenty of days for other concerns.
Don't get me wrong, I have a lot to say about Tucson but that is for more serious deliberations.
Many more missives to come. The cherry on the sundae was this Sunday when the Packers won. I got the ice cream when the Jets sat Peyton Manning down. Yup, the musician jock. Only happy tonight. There will be plenty of days for other concerns.
Don't get me wrong, I have a lot to say about Tucson but that is for more serious deliberations.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
2011
We spent the day with football and the evening with Thom and Kevin. I think I have a grasp on what I need to do this year to take care of myself. The follow through is always a bitch.
I need to tell you that we have a soul ready to become twice the angel she was on this side. My friend Paula, a hilarious, brilliant and gifted entertainer is in Hospice. I don't know that she is even aware of the Christmas gift I sent her...I was so fortunate to be with her on the American Queen as she fooled white people into snapping on 2 & 4 rather than 1 & 3. Nobody reads this so I don't have to explain it, just celebrate her genius as she did this to the song "Moon dance." I will remember her every time I hear that song. She was the very first person I met when I came to the Delta Queen Steamboat Company. I met her coming on as she was leaving on a turnover day. I can feel her warmth and kindness today just as it was then.
Hold Paula in your highest thoughts as we enter this new year as she is flying away and needs our airlift. Paula...what a wonderful night for a Moon dance. I love you.
I need to tell you that we have a soul ready to become twice the angel she was on this side. My friend Paula, a hilarious, brilliant and gifted entertainer is in Hospice. I don't know that she is even aware of the Christmas gift I sent her...I was so fortunate to be with her on the American Queen as she fooled white people into snapping on 2 & 4 rather than 1 & 3. Nobody reads this so I don't have to explain it, just celebrate her genius as she did this to the song "Moon dance." I will remember her every time I hear that song. She was the very first person I met when I came to the Delta Queen Steamboat Company. I met her coming on as she was leaving on a turnover day. I can feel her warmth and kindness today just as it was then.
Hold Paula in your highest thoughts as we enter this new year as she is flying away and needs our airlift. Paula...what a wonderful night for a Moon dance. I love you.
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