Hear With Your Eyes,Not With Your Ears

May 14, 2009

There has been a slight undercurrent in my writing life lately that has been nudging me more and more as I blog hop around. I’ve found myself very envious of other people’s writing styles,especially the ones that seem to be written on a much more meaningful level than the pull my finger funny shit I try to turn out on occasion.

You know, believe it or not there used to be a time that I delved to the bottom of my soul every time I let my fingers hit the keys,and although by the time the product was finished the keyboard and myself would be tear streaked,I did find solace releasing those feelings from the depths of my being.There was only one problem with using my writing as an emotional cleansing, I would still feel the residue from the scrub for weeks after.So being a writer that hides behind a clown nose I know is a better fit for me.

Today though,when I set out on my daily hop of all my favorite blogs ,I happened upon Margo’s killer post over at “Life In The Short Lane.” She had written a post about the sound of her childhood. It was written so outstandingly I felt that I was there with her on the Chesapeake shore,just amazingly well written and made me think of one of my first journal entries I wrote about my childhood not long after I had my therapy cherry popped.

Take a listen…..

“Bad,bad,Leroy Brown, baddest man in the whole damn town” God,how I loved that song. I can still picture myself,six years old perched nicely between the two front seats of my father’s 1974 Pinto Station wagon,singing my tiny heart out. I used to love going on road trips whether riding down a long highway or just up to the grocery store. No matter how long the trip, my dad would turn on the music and him ,my older sister,and I would sing to anything he crammed into the eight tracker player.
This time was different though.No one else seemed in the mood to sing. I figured it was because we had a new passenger along for the ride,my father’s new wife.That was the main reason I was sitting up between the seats singing.I hoped she was listening to me and learning the words so she could join in ,then maybe Dad wouldn’t feel so shy about singing in front of her.To no avail though,by the time “Operator” came on she shot me a look much like one would give after smelling something rancid . Now I knew I wasn’t as good at singing “Operator” as I was with “Bad,Bad Leroy Brown” …there was just something about being six years old and being able to say or sing the word damn without having my mouth washed out with soap afterward that made me sing like an angel,or maybe a devil in disguise. Either way, at that point I knew I had to give up on my mission of trying to get everyone to join in and just sit back and learn to enjoy the silence.

Silence was always uncomfortable for me.So after an hour of trying to amuse myself with anything and everything my little brain could think up from making faces at passing cars to trying to create something more than just a box with my Etch-A-Sketch. I decided to turn the silence into screams by trying to get a rise out of my sister.Seeing as before the car door had a chance to close she voiced the fact with a visual too, by drawing an imaginary line between her seat and mine she growled at me and said under no reason what so ever was I allowed to enter her territory, PERIOD! Her authority didn’t scare me into submission, no, instead I saved what she said like a leftover half a sandwich to bite into when I found myself hungry for interaction,and at that point I was starved .So I bit in, starting first with just moving a couple of toes from my left foot and letting them rest ever so slightly in her domain. Nothing.Seconds later I decided to really go for it, so I slid my whole foot right till it was actually touching her.Now this was a huge sign of bravery on my part because an act like that would normally cause a quick reaction from her to sweep my foot off her side and draw the imaginary line once again.
I waited with anticipation for battle from my foot invasion,but it never happened. She was too busy staring out the window to even notice my attempt for mutiny. Puzzled I started to wonder if anything about this trip would be at all familiar to what I was used to . It was in that thought I looked back at her and noticed a tear rolling down the side of her cheek.Instantly, I moved my foot back over to my side of the invisible barrier.
Exhausted from confusion of a trip that seemed like it was created from a episode of “The Twilight Zone”, I bundled myself up in my Holly Hobbie blanket and shut my eyes willing myself to dream.

In my dreams she would come.Always just like I remembered her, even though a year had past since I didn’t have to fall asleep in order to find the comfort of my mother.Little did I know by the time the road ended for this trip, I’d spend the rest of my childhood dreaming, trying to remember my father.”

The End. Well the end of the exercise anyways. So tell me,could you hear me,or do I need to let you pull my finger?



  1. Sistah, you said a mouthful – Conventional society has it wrong though as to their explanation on why humorists are humorists- I don’t think we HIDE behind a mask, I think that its’ our way of opening our closet doors in the middle of the night and in facing our monsters we find that if we cut them down to a size that fits our viewing range and ridicule them publicly, they eventually don’t have the power they once had to tear us in two. I started out writing poetry (age 7); recently i am in a lyric writing project with a band from Sweden (no money unless they hit it big DAMN)those are my “cry me a river” outlets. Don’t worry, you are deep and in every post that people relate to, it’s not just the funny they see. Keep up the good work:)

  2. OK, I absolutely love you,Surveygirl! You get me,and that doesn’t happen often! LOL!

    As for the lyric project,how cool is that. I would love to have the talent to write a song. I wish ya tons of luck that they make it BIG!!

  3. Wouldn’t that be cool…:) PS Again your writing is awesome so don’t ever sell what you have to say short — unless in selling it the price is a million or so – in that case call me and i will talk you into compromising JUST THIS ONCE…..LOL

  4. LOL! OK,that’s a deal!!

  5. I hear you.

    Wow. Moved…

    No words… Except to say, “More please”.

    Thank you.

  6. Bill,you were the reason for the start of the undercurrent. Every time I read your blog I come away moved by your words.You are quite talented Sir!!

  7. Thank you. You’re a sweetheart. But, in that case, I’m pulling your finger kiddo… (smile) We need your down-to-earth, everyday-people, comic relief… We can all relate to it, and that’s why we flock here by the truckload. You GO girl!

    Okay, so get this: the word verification I have to type in to send this comment is: “humpa”

    See. Your site is all about the freakin” funny business! ha!


  8. Uhhhh… I don’t get it. :ewink:

  9. You go girl !!

  10. LOL! Uh,Bill….there is no flocking by the truckload to be had here. It’s quite flattering that you would think that though. Thank you!!

  11. LOL! Uh,Bill….there is no flocking by the truckload to be had here. It’s quite flattering that you would think that though. Thank you!!

  12. Somehow I knew you wouldn’t,LL. LOL!

  13. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again…Keep up the good work!

  14. Awwe thank you so much,Noe Noe!!

  15. You made me want to cry. I felt more like I was beginning a story than anything and when it ended, I was like, “Wait. What’s next? I need to know how it ends, dammit!”

    So yeah, you got to me. I love both sides of you. πŸ™‚

  16. Oh. And saw your comment in the last post but decided to reply here.

    Alas, I did deblogify. I was being really horrible about updating and I felt bad so I just deleted it.

    I’ve gotten embarrassingly addicted to Twitter (I know :S) and found that updating that left me not wanting to blog about anything.

    I’ll probably get over it eventually and maybe start a new blog. If so, I’ll let you know. If not, I’ll always stop by to check out your new posts, hun!

    Btw, I’m blaming you for my recent shoe obsession. I’ve bought like three or four (or five) pairs of heels since you told me about those Lego heels on eBay. πŸ˜‰

  17. I thankfully never had to live through any major changes in my family like this, but this post really encapsulated what it would feel like.

    I mean, if it can stop any sane human from singing “Leroy Brown” out loud, then it must be plain awful. That song begs for singalong.

  18. That was a very emotive, well written piece.

    As a fellow finger-pull blogger, it sometimes surprises me how much we can get out of writing down episodes like this, even if no-one else reads them.

  19. Juliet, I am heartbroken that you’re not blogging anymore. Please do let me know if you start again. I hear Twitter is quite addicting,that’s why I don’t dare start!

  20. LOL! Shawn,so did I redeem my musical tastes with you now?

  21. Jules,believe me I know. I have plenty of journals filled with pieces like this. I think it gave me a place to put these feelings because they were doing me no good keeping them inside,and that where they live now.

  22. Jules,believe me I know. I have plenty of journals filled with pieces like this. I think it gave me a place to put these feelings because they were doing me no good keeping them inside,and that where they live now.

  23. Just stopping by. Have a wonderful weekend!!!

    P.S. Does it reveal my age that when someone says “pull my finger” I think of Bevis and Butthead…

  24. Me too,TCC!!

  25. *sniffles*

    That was lovely, but really, I have allergies. I mean a cold. I am not crying, dammit!!

    PS. I hope your lovely new boobs are healing well. πŸ™‚

  26. LOL! Chelle…I hope your cold clears up soon.

    As for the new boobage…they are coming along.

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