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© 2004-2008 Linda Escaip
"I may be grumpy, but I like you."
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The Suns and Moons of the Grumpiest Girl in the Room.
Welcome to my journal, hot stuff.
I'm Just Living On Nerves And Feelings 24-September-2005 4:25 p.m.
I just sampled a new chocolate bar I bought at Whole Foods. It's the "luscious raspberry" flavour of the Terra Nostra yogurt & dark chocolate bars. It tastes like an ailing foot. I don't know—I'm sure there's someone out there who thinks it's simply delicious. Probably the same person who likes liver and onions and the movie The Piano.
I received an email some months back from a guy who happened upon my website. His first email contained one curt sentence—a question.
You surely are not putting your real name out here, are you?
To which I rather brilliantly replied:
"Oy. What?"
And he wrote back: Linda Escaip?
I let him know that's who I am, and since I'll never be anyone else I didn't see a problem with sharing that information. He wrote:
Entirely up to you. Excuse me, my eyes are still rolling around here someplace...
"Of course it's up to me," I responded. "That's why I couldn't understand why you were questioning me about it. I wasn't aware there was some reason I should make up a stage name to attach to my website."
He wrote: I am merely expressing wonderment that anyone, man or woman, would allow legions of anonymous and possibly perverted people information sufficient to be knocking on his or her front door within hours. And that is not a metaphor.
I thought it had been an oversight on your part. But if it is by intent, then the matter is entirely yours, and I will hector you no longer.
I think about it sometimes, the legions of anonymous perverts likely perusing my site daily, scouring the pages for bits of information that will carry them closer to my front door. And every day I put on my taffeta prom dress, three coats of mascara and my Sassy Susan wig and wait on my lovely, spacious front porch here on _________ Road. Whatever. I obviously attract lazy perverts.
That's not the sort of thing that scares me. Well, of course the thought of it is scary, but it's not what I focus on in the way of fear. I fear never truly knowing my worth. I fear getting to the end of my life and finding myself sorrowful for not having lived the way I wanted to live, not having the confidence to realize my dreams. That stuff scares the shit out of me. Bring me a pervert any day. I eat perverts for lunch and poop them out on rude people's lawns.
I have at times wished for anonymity here, but only when I feel like writing about certain people or events. It can be a bit limiting with my name up there, but I'm glad it's there; I spent too many years hiding under a rock. A stylish rock, but a rock nevertheless.
I've been anxious and depressed lately. I don't recommend either, just in case you were considering. For me, fear is the basis of both. I fear so much crap at this point it's difficult to keep track of it all. It just floats and flits and whirls and zips about my brain until my attention is drawn to one of those crazy fragments and I am good and messed up. Like the other night...
I had left My Love in the living room to select a movie for us to watch while I briefly visited the bathroom. About four minutes later I emerged with the news that I was losing my hair. Yes, soon I would be bald. The movie selection process came to a halt. My Love sat on the couch and looked at me, concerned and slipping into that oh god, we're going to hell expression.
"You're not losing your hair."
"I am. On the sides—look. Other people have long hair under here, and mine is just baby hair. It never gets any longer. It's like there's something wrong with it. What's wrong with it? Why the hell is it so short? I must have screwed it up somewhere. It was probably the bobby pins in eleventh grade."
"Bobby pins?"
"Well, and the hairspray. Oh, Jesus. You know what? I can't do it anymore. I can't fucking do it. How much can a person take? My hair is ruined. I haven't used hairspray in years. When do I do anything bad to my hair? I look like a witch. Why do I have witch hair? Oh my God, I have wispy fucking witch hair." That's when the panic set in and my voice began to rise above enjoyable audio levels. Soon I was in tears, painfully lamenting my looming baldness. Yeah. Right about now you want to move in, eh?
After crying myself several bodies of water and being consoled by my ever-patient partner in crime, I went back to the bathroom to take another gander at my hair. It wasn't thinning. I wasn't on my way to looking like Yul Brynner in a sundress after all. The stars in the sky twinkled a bit brighter, and everything was going to be alright. I could go back to obsessing over my teeth without the burden of having to count my hairs every morning.
What else can I tell you? The songwriting hasn't been going along as smoothly as before, as I am now somewhat convinced I have nothing to say lyrically. I sit there and rub my forehead, quite possibly hoping to score a genie. Words seep out here and there, but often they don't have many friends to meet up with later, so they dangle there on the page, all two or three lines of them, alone and wondering what the hell kind of party that is supposed to be. Needy words.
Back when I decided to record the album (which hasn't yet entered the recording process), I made the decision to write a bunch of new songs and save the older songs for later recordings which would hopefully see the light of day. Once I made that decision, I was writing like a hellcat. See, the studio wasn't really set up at that point, so I didn't have anything gaining on me in that way. I could just write and focus my attention there. But the studio equipment has been upgraded and ready to go for a little while, and ever since that time I've sort of clammed up in the way of words. I'm not sure the two are related, but I could be unintentionally slowing the process due to the one hundred thousand+ fears I have wrapped up in the whole idea of that album and my music and where it will go and who I am and what I want and how it will all turn out, etc. I keep forgetting to just relax and enjoy the ride. I might write that on the back of my hand.
It's not all that easy being human. I'm really noticing that.
Quote From My World
"Watch a funny movie."
"Yes Mom, I'll laugh until my tits fall off."
"Sounds good!"
Well, I'm off to count my teeth. I hope you're finding plenty of smiles upon your face these days. Thanks for reading.
Linda
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