Songs of My Misspent Youth: Crockett's Theme

I never watched Miami Vice. I knew enough about it to appreciate the in-jokes in Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, though, and I loved the soundtrack the instant I heard it. Not that I had the soundtrack, mind you. I had radio.

I became obsessed with Crockett's Theme one night in 1989, when I was heading into a low point. Low like fifteen, out of shape, knowing My Poppy wasn't doing that well...really low. So low I was listening to WPAT. The muzac station. I never listened to the muzac station willingly before that night, but missed it something awful when it was sold a few years later. This is why:

I'd saved up enough money to see a doctor about my migraines, because the constant crying and sitting in the dark was getting annoying. He gave me some iron supplements and helpfully suggested I stay away from McDonald's. I haven't been to McDonalds' since 1983, but I didn't bother telling him that. I just went home and wrote silly violent stories, and was encouraged to take the iron the next time I was dizzy. You know what iron supplements do to someone with digestive problems? They make them worse. You know what a fifteen-year-old who just keeps bloating until she can't breathe ends up doing? Abusing Correctol. Yeah. My "anorexic" phase only lasted three days, which is another reason my memory lapses are a blessing, but during those three days, I kept picking out Crockett's Theme on my synth, and crying, but mainly picking out Crockett's Theme, and watching Monty Python.

14 years later, I found the song on Emotion 98.3 as I mowed down Vice City drug dealers in a golf cart and was so happy to hear it I nearly disturbed the sexy man-cat leaning on my leg. He purred and rubbed on my elbow as I drove into the water. It was a good night.

Remember kids, music can save you.

Songs of My Misspent Youth: Crockett's Theme

Yo-Ho, Yo-Ho, A Pirate's Challenge For Ye!

Ahoy mateys! The 100 Word Stories' weekly challenge were overtaken by pirates!

The theme were Pirates!

Pirates were all about, and a bit o' the themes chose by shanty maker Guy David and yours truly.

It be a hard life for Capn' Swallow since the international shanty composers began demandin' royalties. He near lost his ship after we were caught playin' Barnacles, Me Hearties without askin'. Askin’ Two-Legged Davy if ye can sing his songs t’ain’t a wise move if ye hope to live another day.

I understand why the captain had to run me through five times afore setting me out to sea. There be sharks circling me leaky dingy lookin’ friendlier than the last face I saw. No matter, I got me parrot, a bottle o'grog, and me harmonica. I'll survive. Probably.

The whole crew be assembled 'ere, and if ye've ne'er listened to the podcast, what be wrong with ye? now's the time! AVAST!

Yo-Ho, Yo-Ho, A Pirate's Challenge For Ye!

The Tangled Yet Rather Endearing Mess That Is My Life

Summer of 2009 was weird. It started out with me all gung-ho to die of extreme sunstroke and ended with me staggering around unable to recognize even my Puppy's father-in-law after a week of tackling said Puppy to flush her ears with what is basically douche and then driving a great flaming car through rezoned streets of death after playing Frankenstein on patio umbrellas.

It's alive, I say when I wake up.

Not that I sleep much, especially since I got it into my head three months ago to stop taking every pill I used to take. No Benadryl, no Rite-Aid brand Sudafed knock-off, nothing. Commando head. I credit/blame Michael Jackson. I was up to way too much Benadryl to sleep an extra hour. I've had chronic insomnia since age 1 so suggesting more exercise or counting things is going to go over with me as well as suggesting hats for UV exposure for my legs.

I did a lot this summer, or at least it feels like I did. I didn't let anything like the occasional lack of a functional right side stop me, either. I developed a tan. My skin will hurt until 2012. Everything I pruned has grown back and my hair dye has nearly grown out. Time marches on. Or drags awkwardly like Torgo, in my case.

I started putting this Autumnal Vlog together a while back, because I knew it was going to be big, but it was held up by the most recent shocking reminder that I need to keep track of what goes on in my little world at all times. I think it worked out, though. I think it made the video, I think it summed up this year, and I especially like that we made all it through.

Yay autumn!

(Summary for the YouTube-less folk: I spent some time filming The Slinky One and The Puppy as they both tried to explain that The Fluffy One was twenty feet up the cherry tree and could I please stop filming them and assemble the team to help him down. He's a lumberjack and he's OK, but I wasn't after that, which is why you may notice the Vlog went up a tad late.)

The Tangled Yet Rather Endearing Mess That Is My Life

Songs of My Misspent Youth: Freedom Overspill

If you've spent any time after the hour of midnight with me or have been reading this blog long enough, you probably aren't surprised to see Freedom Overspill by Steve Winwood on my official all-time list of songs that take me back to an exact point in my life where I'm no longer sure what the hell I was up to., but I know it was fun.

I still take out my Song Hits and giggle at the mystery of the chair, although since England Dan Seals passed away earlier this year I get a bit misty over the whole "I'm a chair kicker" thing.

That night of making comics out of photos probably foreshadowed what would still amuse me years later, but feeling like a twelve-year-old who knows she'll never play a synth as good as Steve Winwood requires some extra-strength silly to drive that kind of desolation away.

Steve Winwood - Freedom Overspill
by jpdc11

Songs of My Misspent Youth: Freedom Overspill

I Like Peas.

One other thing I did on 09/09/09 was write the first draft of my 100 Word Stories' weekly challenge story.

Only I wrote it...with a pen. On paper. I don't write like that. Not since 1989, anyway. But I got an idea for Peas On A Pod and all I had within reach was a pen, a bit of paper...and of course blood, but that wasn't necessary this week.



No, I'm not going to make you read that. After all, I edited it five more times before I submitted this:

That airplane flying over reminds me of a nice man I met who was supposed to become the first man to fly to Mars. He had to turn back on account of broken facilities, and was called Pete "Pees In A Pod" Carter from then on.

Me an' Jenny were like peas in a pod, 'cept we weren’t green an' we didn't grow out of the ground. Well, Jenny's in the ground now, but it wasn't like you could serve us with shrimp. I like shrimp. Shrimp's like peas 'cause you gotta pull the strings out before you eat 'em....

Yes, that was meant to be Forrest "Table Tennis Hero" Gump. I read the story in a voice that sounded nothing like Forrest Gump, but never mind that, we totally got shrimp with the "veins" still intact from the Chinese place up the street. Seriously, if I ate shrimp that would have freaked me out even more than it freaked out the people who did eat it, and they've sworn off shrimp now. Shrimp shouldn't have the same air of mystery that a box of chocolates has, although the vegetarian who lives in my head hasn't stopped laughing yet.

The digest of all ten stories can be read and heard here, and just like I eat all my peas, you should read ALL the stories before voting. Listening's even better.

I Like Peas.