December 2012

They are all my babies.
The thing with children is that I don’t really like them. They whine, and cry, and their noses run. The more I think about it, they are little vile disgusting creatures. They expect adults to feed them, and then to change their shitty diapers. Little drunken elves, really, they are a drain on society. While I do not like them much, I can honestly say that I do love children. I do believe they are the purest form of humanity.

For all of their bad habits, inside their souls, dwell some very important lessons. Lifestyles that I forgot about. Running as means of transportation. Evil Knievel Dare Devilry. Brutal honesty with no reverence to anyone’s feelings. And then there is the lever that is created between their hands and their elbows that allows them to propel a toy at my head at 45 -or more- miles per hour. Physics agrees with me, it is some kind of miracle ration equational proportion.

Children do not schedule vacations, they do not have to work out, and no dieting for them. They are always on vacation, always learning, absorbing their environments. They have but one evil adversary, and that is bedtime. What becomes of these beings? Why, they grow up and become us. Be someone you want all those babies to become. I try not to be an asshole, I know it is contagious.

If I am doing a good job at life, all the babies are my babies. The crying ones, the snotty ones, the super heroes flying in the grocery stores, they are all my babies. I am supposed to protect them even if it doesn’t always work. Keep trying. Look those little sons of bitches in the eye. Trick them. Sing and dance with them. If a wide eyed little guy looks at me and throws an imaginary spiderman web at me, I let him trap me. Take that challenge. I wasn’t born all growed up, I made a mistake and chose to be all growed up.

The hardest thing about the tragedy last Friday, is to know that adults failed these children. This is not limited to those who lost their lives. It includes those who witnessed those atrocities. Brothers who lost sisters. A generation that won’t trust the adults who failed them. A failed nation that gathers around a talking box and repeats the stories it hears. A sick individual who needed mental help, as a child, who was once a wide eyed little boy, he was failed a long time ago.

We live in a nation that imprisons the mentally ill and the drug addicted as though it will help. This needs to change. We can change that. In the meantime, think about how you chose to talk about the tragedy with your children. They all now know, they aren’t safe. We can teach them to trust and regain their hope. Every single one of those little vile disgusting creatures they can all be taught what love is. They all know what a smile is. Change those babies one at a time. Smile. Dance. Magic. Make Noise.

Dance While the Sky Crashes Down
(c)1999 by Jason Webley
The flowers by your bed are wilting.
The sun is setting in the west.
A fog is covering your eyes,
Your stockings are attracting flies,
Decay is nibbling at the boards on which you rest.

There’s someone waiting at your window,
Familiar face without a name.
One night he’ll creep in like the mist,
To touch your forehead with a kiss,
And lead you back into the void from whence you came.

We’ve all begun to die, and don’t know what to do.
Since it hurts to pray to God, when God is dying too.
Takes strength to laugh, when you start to drown.
And we dance while the sky crashes down.

Like that the earth begins to quiver,
And all the oceans turn to black.
A ship of maniacs with knives,
Are playing Blackjack with their lives,
To kill the time until the giant rats attack.
It’s raining leprosy and acid.
The saints were taken out and shot.
When someone proffers you a pear,
You sink your teeth in unaware,
That just beneath the skin lies pestilence and rot.

All that now breathes, and all that you love,
All that we weave, will find its way back to the dust.

A band of skeletons is playing,
Don’t act like you don’t know the tune.
Your part is echoed in the path,
Of every dead leaf blowing past,
Against a counterpoint reflected off the moon.

There is a banquet at the table,
Exotic cheeses wines and cakes.
And every one of us is damned,
Until we start to understand,
That living is to gorge ourselves at our own wakes.

When the stakes are high, best to play the clown.
And we dance while the sky crashes down.

take 20 minutes and listen. xoxoxox.

It has been wild around here. I am getting ready to start the Christmas baking and jelly making extravaganza. Making jelly is one of my most favorite things to do! Meanwhile, all my healthy eating habits are abandoned. Dinner has to happen quickly!


My son colored this at school. He told me Santa had been drinking Kool-Aid. I am all for Santa drinking gay Kool-Aid!


Last night we made videos of this wierd Santa with a turkey leg. Maybe it was supposed to be a bag, but we thought it looked more like a turkey leg. My favorite part about kids is that they will go along with any idea, as long as it is silly.

This is a video of my Grandma. She is the greatest person I know. She will be coming with us to Florida. I cannot wait!

Finally, here is my most favorite Christmas song ever. EVER. Ever. And all the words are true for me.  I’ll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum, they’ll be drinking white wine in the sun

I really like Christmas
It’s sentimental, I know, but I just really like it
I am hardly religious
I’d rather break bread with Dawkins than Desmond Tutu, to be honest

And yes, I have all of the usual objections
To consumerism, the commercialisation of an ancient religion
To the westernisation of a dead Palestinian
Press-ganged into selling Playstations and beer
But I still really like it

I’m looking forward to Christmas
Though I’m not expecting a visit from Jesus

I’ll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They’ll be drinking white wine in the sun
I’ll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They’ll be drinking white wine in the sun

I don’t go in for ancient wisdom
I don’t believe just ‘cos ideas are tenacious it means they are worthy
I get freaked out by churches
Some of the hymns that they sing have nice chords but the lyrics are dodgy

And yes I have all of the usual objections
To the miseducation of children who, in tax-exempt institutions,
Are taught to externalise blame
And to feel ashamed and to judge things as plain right and wrong
But I quite like the songs

I’m not expecting big presents
The old combination of socks, jocks and chocolate is just fine by me

Cos I’ll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They’ll be drinking white wine in the sun
I’ll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They’ll be drinking white wine in the sun

And you, my baby girl
My jetlagged infant daughter
You’ll be handed round the room
Like a puppy at a primary school
And you won’t understand
But you will learn someday
That wherever you are and whatever you face
These are the people who’ll make you feel safe in this world
My sweet blue-eyed girl

And if, my baby girl
When you’re twenty-one or thirty-one
And Christmas comes around
And you find yourself nine thousand miles from home
You’ll know what ever comes
Your brother and sisters and me and your Mum
Will be waiting for you in the sun
Whenever you come
Your brothers and sisters, your aunts and your uncles
Your grandparents, cousins and me and your mum
We’ll be waiting for you in the sun
Drinking white wine in the sun
Darling, when Christmas comes
We’ll be waiting for you in the sun
Drinking white wine in the sun
Waiting for you in the sun
Waiting for you…

I really like Christmas
It’s sentimental, I know…

every time I think of you,
smile for a while
that’s the one thing you always do
smile smile smile

acting out stories and hugging your friends
smile for a while
i know what I’ll do when i see you again
I’m gonna smile smile smile

like ripples in a pond
or runners who pass the baton
good feelings will go on for mile after mile
and your big heart circles the world
every time that you smile

doing those voices and telling your jokes
smile for a while
your crazy hairdos and your thrift shop coats
smile smile smile

every time you break into a Broadway song
smile for a while
the whole world starts singing along
smile smile smile

well you know I love you and I’m glad you’re my friend
smile for a while
you know what I’ll do when i see you again
smile smile smile


(Ash and Erik, circa 1994)

Song Writing

This summer, KL had a great idea that we should write a song about our friend Erik. He passed away very suddenly a few years back. Erik was a huge part of our lives for many years, the wildest being our college years. He had so many great one liners, and a big personality so it seemed like the song would write itself. I mean, most days, this blog writes itself, so it should have been easier. Maybe not easier, maybe just quicker.


The most important part of song writing is sunglasses. You must wear them. Songwriting is a deeply emotional event, and you do not want people to know what you are really thinking. Allegories? Metaphors? Fuck that. Sunglasses.


The next important step in song writing is inspiration. Inspiration is easy. You just stick a Motley Crue mirror in your armpit. You can either time travel and win one at the county fair or you can get one on ebay. Your choice.


The last step in song writing is to know someone who knows how to play guitar. Someone needs to know what is happening. And know what chords are. And know when to yell, “one two three four one two three”. A husband works well in this instance.


Another option for song writing is a very serious business manager. I am not sure what all that entails, but we had Sarah. She proved a most worthy candidate. And she has a laptop computer. And dreadlocks. I think that more than qualifies her for the position.


We have paper and beer. We are ready. NO WE ARE NOT! KL, PUT YOUR SUNGLASSES ON!


Ah. Yes. Much better.


The songwriting situation got very serious very quickly. Phone calls were made, tweets were twittered and paper was flying.


We wrote the song, but my handwriting and codes were to hard for anyone to read so I had to type it. This is where your business manager comes in. Make sure you have one, so that they can dictate to you while you type. And get you cold beers from the fridge. Yay Sarah!


Sometimes tempers flared.


And flared. Artistic differences. Sometimes people were rushing my typing job. Typing is underappreciated and hard work.


Sometimes typing gives you a headache. You must persevere.


When you are done, you can rest your head on your beer and relax. Job well done! Maybe next summer we can write the music.

Here are some pictures of our inspiration, Erik. RIP, buddy, wish we were all still drinking 40’s in Carbondale, bar hopping up and down the strip!






glow in confusion.


shots and


shots with string


sew sew sew


wrap presents instead

It isn’t easy living in a tiny town. The same town where I went to high school. And half of grade school. The same town that my father went to kindergarten in. Sometimes it feels claustrophobic. Moving back was an adjustment. In my perfect world, I would be living in a giant city. Walking the streets, surrounded by people, that I do not know, I don’t care to know. I feel most at home in the bustle, in the exhaust fumes, and people watching. A city life, was not in the cards for me. So we settled back here. In my little town.

It is wonderful to live so close to my family. My grandmother, my parents, and my sister and her family all live within a two block radius. I always have someone to help me, to talk to, to drink a beer with. Or to make me laugh. I get to see my sister’s kids and watch them grow. You really cannot buy that kind of happiness, and I am so grateful for this time in my life. It is a strange, relaxing time, juxtaposed with a cray insane work schedule. All or nothing, it seems.

Yesterday, after lunch with a friend, I had a chance encounter with an old friend at the Dollar Tree. It is times like these I am happy with my life. Standing in the aisle laughing about Robert Mapplethorpe and talking about record stores that still exist in the next town over. To have history with people, and to be able to interact with them, that is a priceless thing. During our conversation, I described a group of people as “young”, you know, our age. I was reminded that we weren’t young anymore. But we are. Having those kind of relationships, that are close even if you don’t see each other every day, even every year, it is those relationships can keep us young forever. And for that I am very thankful.

Please enjoy this SO not safe for work youtube video. It is my personal mantra, especially when I am having a bad day. I cannot imagine this guy even thinking about performing this song live, just so not a good idea. We are going to try and catch his show, on the 29th while on vacation. I really hope it works out!

Today, I had a lunch date at a tiny local place. If you haven’t done this lately, I highly recommend. Find a local mom and pop kinda place and hang out with a friend. So fun! So relaxing!


My mom gave me a bunch of weird Santa candles. I have no idea what they are really for. So I have been enjoying burning Santa at the stake all day. Sorry Santa!

I have a day off tomorrow and many plans. First I will be headed out to my friend KL and Sarah’s house, to write a song about our late dear friend, Erik. RIP, Erik! Hopefully, we can make a video, to post here. More importantly, I hope it is worthy of a great friend like Erik. He passed away very suddenly of cancer about 4 years ago.
Tomorrow I have a lunch date with a Zumba coach. I think we are going to take over the world someday. Updates to follow.
Here is my favorite 36 seconds of the internet. Ever. Ever, ever. OoooOOOOoo.

What? What? OoooOOoooOOooooOOOooOOOo.
Seriously, no one should ever, ever date Taylor Swift ever again. She makes me want to be a communist. She has enough fucking money. She is a singing giraffe. Even Eminem’s daughter hates her.

Click here for the hate!

Another use of the old OoooOOooooOOoo on the radio:

Boxing, tattoos, babies, this is a much better song. That is a cute baby. And beautiful lady friend. That guy is a douchebag. Rocky Balboa would kick this guy’s ass. I might appreciate this douchebag more if he ate the goldfish at the end of the video.

One last OooooOOooo song, for tonight:

Actually, I think it is Hoooh Hoooh! Whatever! Carry on!

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