Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Mama's Got a Mixed Bag

Taylor and his effing blog! First, and this is not hard feelings – just hard truth – he’s a writer like I’m Cyndi Lauper. I mean I’ve written a couple of songs and I was front woman for a band but…you get my point. Actually, I’m a lot closer to being Cyndi than he is to being any kind of writer.

So Taylor, like the rest of the world (including me, right?) has a blog. And, nasty little worm that he is, he decides he’s going to “get back at me” for what happened to Simon – which was all Simon’s fault as even you know and has totally nothing to do with me. Someone who was at the Midsommer Night concert posted some pictures and he found them. There was one where…okay, it had been kind of chilly and dampish, which I hear is typical for Reykjavik that time of year, so during the day I’d stopped at the knitting shop and picked up some things. A pair of knitted wristlets…except you can call them “wristlets” if they go up to your elbow like these did…whatever, these elbow fingerless glove things and a stripey cap that had two points ending in tassels, and this a long skinny scarf with these tufts of something sticking up. I had them on with a t-shirt and cargo pants and my old turquoise Uggs and, there’s no way around it, I looked like Bjork’s mother. I did. And in this photo, I’m on stage with Stu and you can tell I’m doing the goofy shout-out parts at the end of “Hard to Be a Girl”. And Taylor sticks up this photo with the headline “Raisin Bran” and a totally vicious rant about “rocking chair rocker Tash Loving.” Incoherent, but so ugly.

It wouldn’t matter except that he somehow managed to get it re-posted by some “Remembering CBGB” blogger who, unlike Taylor, actual has readers. Someone in Pozzo’s office saw it there and passed it to him, and he showed it to Vlad who I guess after all never forgave me for turning him down that time after Robbie died so Vlad – with lots of phony LOLs all over it – forwarded it to me. Now instead of remembering what a great night that was, all I can do is wonder how many people there were laughing at me. I want to hit someone. Or cry.

I’d be feeling totally miserable except that Horst came by and we went for a walk. He’s a really sweet guy. The first time he came by after the whole Simon thing, to see if I was okay (which you have to agree was pretty damned sweet), it was one of my afternoons to work the tasting room for Peter & Leonie and I brought him along to Green Mountain. He latched onto Peter for the rest of the day, and hung around after closing and came up to the house for dinner. Turns out his dream is to open a winery of his own. I apologize for all the clichés I ever thought about wrestlers. I mean, apart from the gentle giant thing, he’s got a degree from Cornell Ag, an MBA from Columbia and spent the last two years studying with Coppola at his vineyard in California. Obviously he and Peter got on like best buds for life, so he decided to stay in the area for a couple more weeks to come by and tap his brain some more. It’s been a lot of fun, for all of us.

So just after I got Vlad’s “funny” FYI, there was a knock at the door and it was Horst. I told him all about it. Good thing about professional wrestler’s – they know what it feels like to be the butt of a joke. He let me kick & fuss for while. Then, since it had decided not to rain after all (at least not yet; any minute now and then, if you can believe the weather reports, for days) we hopped on his bike to go to the beach for a walk. On the way, we stopped by the pizza place for ices, since it was closest. He hadn’t seen the strip before; not exactly where I think of taking visiting celebrities. His whole face lit up when he saw it, boarded up shops and all. He said it reminded him of where he grew up in Michigan. It was so long since he’d been in a “regular place;” he actually thanked me for bringing him. We talked a lot about growing up in the suburbs today. You can get nostalgic over the strangest things.

I’ve only known Horst a couple of weeks, but I’m going to miss him when he leaves on Thursday. On the bright side, Jeff’s back home and he’s coming out this weekend. Doesn’t matter if it pours – poor guy just needs to unwind and catch his breath. Four whole months he’s had to be out there in Manila, slaving round. Whatever they pay him, they don’t pay him enough, that’s what I think.

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