Yes! Going on a picnic with somebody else’s kids, at a really quiet and beautiful lake!

And, yes, have a vintage station wagon, too.

But what I will be doing instead isn’t the worst thing in the world:

Take a 5-minute walk to the far right of this photo and you will be at the 200-year-old train station where I work in the evenings!

And I go inside, outside; inside, outside; inside, outside all evening long. So I get to look at a big bunch of beautiful trees and an incredible sky, wherein the stars come out in the evening and birds are always soaring. And right next door to the train station is a huge — and I mean huge — old barn, full of bails of hay. And just up the hill a tiny bit is the picturesque and perfectly maintained old graveyard where all the first settlers of the town are buried.

So it’s definitely not the worst place I’ve ever worked, or the worst view I’ve not only ever had but been an actual part of, when I’m doing all that “inside, outside; inside, outside” stuff.

So it isn’t terrible. I’m just effing tired. Beyond your ability to comprehend, most days.

But on a happy note!!

Indy, the brother of Alan the cat– the brother who hides in my storage closet all day and only comes out at night when I’m sleeping because he was horribly abused & abandoned in a dumpster as a tiny kitten so he distrusts people, to put it mildly; that Indy not only let me pet him today, but he actually came over to me and wanted to be petted.

It was amazing, gang. He’s been hiding in my storage closet for 2 and half months already.

What a wonderfully auspicious day!

Okay.

I wanted to share this, because this is the kind of thing that makes me so angry, gang. The Guardian used to believe in child sex trafficking. Now it’s just “Q-Anon paranoia”. (And there is no Q-Anon, for chrissakes. There is Q and there are anons…) Anyway.

From Bannon’s War Room:

“Enemy of the people

Enemy of the children”

**********************

And there’s a 3-part article getting underway at Real Raw News that you might want to stay on top of. Those FEMA camps were real, gang. I started blogging about them back in 2012, during the O’Bozo Regime, and some of my readers thought I was some sort of “conspiracy theorist” nut.

JAG Convicts former FEMA Boss Brock Long, Part One.

**********************

That’s kind of it.

Oh, I did get my phone service back on yesterday and that was a long and quite curious story, so I’ll leave it for another time. But I do believe the Deep State infrastructure of this great land of ours is truly on its way out.

So. That’s cool.

Have a great Friday, wherever you are in the world!!

Thanks for visiting.

I love you guys. See ya!

*********************

Yes! I leave you with this!

You knew it was only a matter of time, and the time has arrived!

My breakfast-listening music from this morning. From the summer of 1984, the absolutely mega smash hit: Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the U.S.A.”!

I used to play this album nonstop that summer, when I was still living in the railroad flat on East 12th Street in New York’s East Village.

When I met my birth dad, 5 years later in 1989, it turned out that this song personified him. It truly did. He’d been a Navy SEAL in Vietnam, and when we first began talking to each other on the phone — late at night for me, because there was a 3-hour difference in our time zones — I would lie in my bed in the dark, and listen, spellbound, to his stories about Vietnam; stories he had never told his wife (who was dead by this time) or his stepkids because he never wanted to upset them. But he wanted to confide in me, to tell me what it had been like for him over there.

I cannot adequately say how much that meant to me. I’d been searching for my birth father for about 17 years by the time he finally called me –seemingly out of the blue — one evening in the Spring of 1989, while I was sitting alone in my bedroom, watching a rerun of “The Andy Griffith Show.”

ME: “Hello?”

HIM: “Is this Marilyn?”

ME: “Yes.”

HIM: “Marilyn, my name’s Don May. I don’t really know how to say this but I think I’m your father.”

It is sufficient to say that, after that, my life changed forever.

This morning, at around 6am, while making breakfast for 11 cats and myself, this song came on the CD player in my kitchen and stopped me in my tracks. And I actually cried, just a wee little bit… I knew my birth dad for 10 difficult years, until he died from a cancer he got from being exposed to Agent Orange in Vietnam…

All right. Enjoy, gang.

“Born In The U.S.A.”

Born down in a dead man’s town
The first kick I took was when I hit the ground
You end up like a dog that’s been beat too much
‘Til you spend half your life just coverin’ up

Born in the U.S.A
I was born in the U.S.A
I was born in the U.S.A
Born in the U.S.A

Got in a little hometown jam
So they put a rifle in my hand
Sent me off to a foreign land
To go and kill the yellow man

Born in the U.S.A
I was born in the U.S.A
I was born in the U.S.A
I was born in the U.S.A

Come back home to the refinery
Hiring man says, “Son if it was up to me”
Went down to see my V.A. man
He said, “Son, don’t you understand”

I had a brother at Khe Sanh
Fighting off the Viet Cong
They’re still there, he’s all gone
He had a woman he loved in Saigon
I got a picture of him in her arms now

Down in the shadow of the penitentiary
Out by the gas fires of the refinery
I’m ten years burning down the road
Nowhere to run ain’t got nowhere to go

Born in the U.S.A
I was born in the U.S.A. now
Born in the U.S.A
I’m a long gone Daddy in the U.S.A. now
Born in the U.S.A
Born in the U.S.A
Born in the U.S.A
I’m a cool rockin’ Daddy in the U.S.A. now

c- 1982 Bruce Springsteen

Well, my phone is still saying “SOS Only” and I’ve tried everything that you would normally do to get it to go away, but it remains.

This means that at some point, early yesterday evening, while sitting at my desk in my room, I somehow managed to get out of my carrier’s range of service for the first time in twelve years…

So curious — that it happened only moments after that military helicopter flew over my house. (If you don’t follow Q, none of this will register with you!) (Oh! And the Signal app did indeed work! One of my Q-following friends was able to text me and receive my texts last night.)

But anyway.

Not only can I not chat with or call my phone service provider right now, but most of their web site — the part where you can actually interact in some meaningful way — is suddenly missing. Although, oddly, the app on my phone is still working in a very interactive way… strange, right?

And this after they just sent me a new SIM card the other day. And my iPhone, except for that pesky “not being able to call or text anyone” part, is working just perfectly. [In fact, better and faster than it had been before the new SIM card arrived.]

Well, as a last resort, I emailed their service department. Perhaps they do things the old-fashioned way, like respond to email. We’ll see.

Just so curious, right, gang?? (Plus, my carrier provides mostly to politically active senior citizens across America who vote, and it’s been around for a couple of decades. Just curiouser and curiouser.)

Hmmmm….

So. On to other topics.

My life is beautiful.

I decided this (again) last night, as I awoke suddenly — the room was dark and very hot, all the windows were wide open, and the world outside my windows was so peaceful. My incredible Lasko oscillating tower fan was doing that great thing it does at the foot of my bed (i.e., makes sleeping extremely comfortable when the room is otherwise unbelievably hot). (And it also has an ion thingy, and a remote control, and a timer… I’ve had it for 5 years now and I hope it never dies.)

I looked next to me, and there was Al (Alan), the visiting cat. Blissed out and sound asleep in the breezy path of the Lasko fan. (He and his brother, Indy, are here now until August, because their home didn’t pass the electrical re-wiring inspection and the inspector can’t go out there again until the first week of August…)

Anyway. He is such a sweet cat, and he was so blissed out, sound asleep right next me. Huckleberry and Doris were stretched out, asleep on the floor, over by my desk. (They are cats — not fruit and/or people.)

And it wasn’t raining, so the roof wasn’t leaking. And all the bills are paid for now. And for that brief shining moment, every creep, everywhere was leaving me the fuck alone…

Everything was just so calm, and so peaceful and life has mostly been everything but that for the past 3 years. So it was just so beautiful, to wake up for even a moment and discover that life was perfect — wow.

And here it is — a brand new day. We’ll see how it goes. I’m back to the job again for the next 3 days. So that always kind of puts everything in my real world on hold.

It is what it is, for now, gang. The alternative is to not be here at all and I’m not ready for that yet.

If you are following any of the insane narratives in the MSM right now, good luck with that. They are absolutely off the charts insane. My best advice is to just ignore all of it and enjoy your life. (Especially that fucking bizarre cocaine at the White House ridiculousness.) (The fake Biden is not at the White House, neither is the fake or real Hunter. They’re just trying to slam you over the head with the idea that justice in the US is corrupt and they will find a way to arrest Trump for everything.) (I’m guessing that next they’ll find cocaine at Mar-A Lago and “arrest” him again, while Hunter walks free….) (Of course, we’re also hearing that Trump was never actually even “arrested”…)

Anyway!

Enjoy your Thursday, gang!

I hope it is peaceful and quiet, wherever you are in the world. (Which means you’re probably not in France…) (Although, Peitor, my friend and business partner who lives in Nice, France, texted me a lovely photo yesterday morning, from the beach. The South of France looks way different from the other photos coming out of France…)

Thanks for visiting.

I love you guys. See ya!

*******************

Never A Dull Moment!! What a great record that was!!!

My listening-music from this morning! Rod Stewart’s cover of Dylan’s “Mama, You Been On My Mind.” From July of 1972!!!! Enjoy.

Sadly, yes, the holiday is over. And now it’s back to town again to get the groceries.

Luckily, it’s another really pretty day out there, gang. So it should be a nice drive. (Plus, I acquired this really happy family, and their dog, to go to town with me this time. Just to keep me constantly distracted. Nothing beats pandemonium in the car when you’re trying to drive!)

But, honestly, gang– I just want to stay here at my desk and work on Novitiate!! I made such great progress with it yesterday.

In fact, I’m starting to wonder if this is an actual novel and not a novella. We shall see.

However, the sooner I get to town and back, the sooner I can get back to work on the book. So I’m gonna scoot.

There is nothing to really report, anyway. The news couldn’t be more fake and/or more horrible when it isn’t fake, so I’ll just leave you to peruse it on your own.

And my life is quiet (for now) and really just sort of beautiful.

Enjoy your 5th of July, wherever you are in the world.

Thanks for visiting.

I love you guys. See ya!

********************

I leave you with this!

A friend from NYC spent his July 4th holiday last night in Asbury Park, NJ. This is a town with a famous amusement park on the Jersey Shore. Bruce Springsteen is from there. And his first album was titled, Greetings From Asbury Park, NJ. So, of course, my friend’s message said, “Greetings from Asbury Park, NJ!”

And in return, I sent him a link to the song below (from Springsteen’s second album, The Wild, The Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle.) I’m guessing my friend dropped everything to play the song on his phone, because when you’re on the boardwalk of a famous and noisy amusement park at the crowded seashore, and the waves are crashing and fireworks are filling the crazy sky, you really want to drop everything and listen to a song that is 50 years old (!!!!).

Anyway. I really love this song. “4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)”. And truth be told, when I went briefly to college, in the fall of 1978, my roommate and I embarked on a passionate little sex-a-thon (meaning that we were each in love with other girls who no longer loved us, so we had wild & very emotional sex with each other, for about a year, to distract us from all the unrequited love in our lives that year). And my roommate’s name was Sandy.

I never forget her. Especially when there are songs like this to remind me. And it still breaks my heart just a little bit. (She was tall and slender, with very long, wavy red hair, and she wore glasses and was studying Engineering and was really, really funny and incredibly smart.)

So here it is: “4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)”. 1973. Enjoy.

Yesterday evening, miracles began happening!

Around 7PM, the weather suddenly and totally shifted and it became just a glorious evening. Here is a photo I took from the upstairs window, looking out over my neighbors’ backyards. Nary so much as a hint of rain:

And if you’re interested in some of the history of Crazeysburg (and there actually is quite a lot, because back in olden times, people actually used to live here…)

Anyway. If you look closely between a couple of those houses, you’ll see a large boat. That boat is actually docked on what’s left of a very old canal. (There’s actually an alley and an old canal running diagonally between that white house and that boat.)

Anyway, Crazeysburg used to be one of the Ohio locks on the Erie Canal. I believe we were Lock #19 but I’m not positive. It would have looked a little like this (although this lock is one county over, Lock #18):

And while it was foggy when I awoke this morning at 6AM, the fog cleared pretty quickly and suddenly it was a really, really pretty morning!

And since God saw fit to give me a really nice 4th of July holiday, I, in turn, kept my promise to the world-at-large, and I got out of bed, threw on some shorts and a tee shirt, and I went outside and did some weeding!! Yay. Finally.

The story of my weeds is a frustrating one.

Since last summer, I have had a nice and very reliable 13-year-old neighbor boy who cuts my grass every week. He is not a “professional lawncare guy”, as I’ve had for every single summer since I moved away from NYC, but he was very reliable and he did cut my grass. He just never even so much as touched any of the weeds, so I would do that part myself.

This year, he asked if I wanted his friend to whack all my weeds for an additional $10 a week. And I was very happy to say, “Yes!”

Well, 2 months of paying the extra $10 a week — and my weeds were basically out of control. So I let the $10-a-week part of the two boys go.

But now my weeds were out of control and I had to deal with it. Yay.

However, deal with it I finally did!

I don’t use any kind of chemicals on my yard, so I had to pull them all out by hand.

I got about 85% of it done this morning before it just became way too hot to stay out there another minute. But I was so happy to get that much done.

And yesterday, after Sandra and I finished working on the play, and before I had my wonderful weekly chat with Val in Brooklyn, I came to a momentous decision: for the rest of my 4-day holiday (I’m on day #3 now), I am not doing any more “work” (i.e., stuff having to do with the play); I am only going to spend time writing Novitiate.

Valerie said yesterday: “If you want to work on your zazzle store tomorrow, or if you want help getting MarilynsRoomBooks.com setup, give me a call.”

And even though I usually drop everything to chat (or work over the phone) with Val, I said: “Val, I’m only working on Novitiate tomorrow, and for the rest of my days off!”

So I feel pretty excited here this morning, gang.

And with that, I am going to get started around here.

Have a wonderful 4th of July, if you live State-side. And if you don’t, then be like Keith — marry a famous American supermodel, move to Connecticut, raise a couple of really pretty blonde daughters, and celebrate the 4th that way!!!

From Keith’s Instagram page just now:

Have a terrific Tuesday, whatever you end up doing!!

Thanks for visiting.

I love you guys! See ya!

********************

Just some of my outside-pulling-the-weeds-bright-and-early music from this morning!

Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band, oddly enough, also the summer of 1978! “The Promised Land” — and I still believe in it, gang! Enjoy!!!! (Yes, you gotta play it loud — otherwise you won’t hear it all the way outside on your front walk…)

“The Promised Land”

On a rattlesnake speedway in the Utah desert
I pick up my money and head back into town
Driving ‘cross the Waynesboro county line
I got the radio on and I’m just killing time
Working all day in my daddy’s garage
Driving all night chasing some mirage
Pretty soon little girl I’m gonna take charge

The dogs on Main Street howl ’cause they understand
If I could take one moment into my hands
Mister I ain’t a boy, no I’m a man
And I believe in a promised land

I’ve done my best to live the right way
I get up every morning and go to work each day
But your eyes go blind and your blood runs cold
Sometimes I feel so weak I just want to explode
Explode and tear this whole town apart
Take a knife and cut this pain from my heart
Find somebody itching for something to start

The dogs on Main Street howl ’cause they understand
If I could reach one moment into my hands
Mister I ain’t a boy, no I’m a man
And I believe in a promised land

Well there’s a dark cloud rising from the desert floor
I packed my bags and I’m heading straight into the storm
Gonna be a twister to blow everything down
That ain’t got the faith to stand its ground
Blow away the dreams that tear you apart
Blow away the dreams that break your heart
Blow away the lies that leave you nothing but lost and brokenhearted

The dogs on Main Street howl ’cause they understand
If I could take one moment into my hands
Mister I ain’t a boy, no I’m a man
And I believe in a promised land

c- 1978 Bruce Springsteen

All right, gang.

It is day number 2 of my 4-day holiday for the 4th of July and it is starting off– yet again– quite auspiciously!!

Yes! Rain. A little more rain. And then even more rain!

Not that I mind rain, per se, but my roof is only just precariously remaining attached to my house…

Buckets everywhere downstairs. My ceiling is leaking like crazy.

And it’s a “holiday.”

(BTW in case you’re keeping count: USDA RD turned me down for a home improvement loan, HUD turned me down, Habitat for Humanity turned me down…)

Well, maybe this time, next year….

Miracles do happen, you know.

New Topic.

I had meant to post this wonderful photo yesterday morning but then I totally forgot!! And then Johnny Depp went and posted it to his Instagram page late yesterday afternoon!

He beat me to it, fair & square. But I regale you with it now!

And may I add this!! A vintage TV commercial from my wee bonny girlhood!! (“Johnny Smoke” Anti-Smoking Ad Campaign from the 1960s!!)

My girlhood, gang. You gotta love it. (I sure did.)

Okay.

I honestly have nothing more to post this morning.

I have to get ready to work with Sandra for a few hours. And then a chat with Valerie, after that. And laundry is in the middle of being halfway finished (try to do the math on that: in the middle of halfway…). So I gotta scoot!

I hope you have a great Monday, wherever you are in the world.

Thanks for visiting.

I love you guys. See ya!

*********************

Making-the-bed-and-doing-laundry- music from this morning!! Enjoy!!

Okay, thank you!

You guys never cease to amaze me. And by that, I am referring to the Smashwords July sale that started yesterday, wherein a great big bunch of people downloaded my free titles, yet again, all day long and on into the wee small hours of this morning, and it continues…

And this sale has been going on twice a year, for years. (13, to be exact.)

My eBook titles there are really old, a lot of those short stories have been around forever (1992 is the earliest one), and it amazes me that there is anyone left who hasn’t and/or who still wants to read them.

So when the sale begins, and my inbox starts filling up with alerts that someone has downloaded one or more (usually all 4 titles), it is a really cool feeling.

So, thank you!!

Here is something else that has happened recently that blows me away.

Two entirely different but equally young people — one young man, a musician, in a very far away country who only speaks a little English, and a young co-worker of mine, a 23-year-old white woman who lives in a really pretty but incredibly small rural town — both listened to my song, “Where Do Dark Girls Go?” recently. Like, within the last 10 days.

This is a song I wrote in 1982 — I can do the math for you, that’s 41 years ago. And even though Peitor and I still intend to re-record all my favorite songs from my songwriting career and just release them online, it never occurs to me that people — young people, who were nowhere near being born yet when I was a folksinger in NYC — might still react to these songs the way audiences did in the old days.

And this was an 8-track demo these two young people were listening to (albeit, it was a demo that almost got me a record deal with Columbia Records), still the quality is just straight from my guitar player’s living room, over 40 years ago.

The young guy texted me and said, “This song is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. The whole world should be listening to this. Why have you not put it out there?”

And the girl, who was actually standing next to me by the espresso machine at the train station while she was listening to it on my phone — I just thought she might enjoy the song, but her whole body went erect and tears immediately came to her eyes. She said, “This is you? You wrote this? You have to put this song out there. You are like a goddess.“

These were not the reactions I had anticipated — I really thought maybe they would just like the song. But it was really interesting. People used to respond that way when I played in clubs, but that was a very, very long time ago, gang. Music has changed so much since then, that I really only think of it as my own private music now, that maybe a few older people would appreciate.

And regarding the girl, my co-worker– she is someone who is really struggling with life and I am always trying to encourage her, to give her hope that she can still have a beautiful life.

After she listened to the song, I showed her photos of Blaire that were also on my phone — the woman I had written the song for 41 years ago. The first one was of Blaire back in the East Village days when I was so much in love with her. We were both musicians, playing very different types of downtown clubs. And back then, she struggled with heroin addiction. This photo was taken in the very, very wee small hours of the morning, in my apartment back in 1985:

And then I showed her a current photo of Blaire, at age 63:

And the girl was astounded. She said, “Wow. So she got clean?”

“Yes. She’s been clean for decades. She’s a heavy metal guitar player in LA.”

It was very interesting — to me, in particular. To see the girl’s reaction to things that I was just sharing with her for what I’d thought was “no particular reason.”

The next day, the girl came in to work and said, “You’re more like a mother to me than my own mom has ever been. You always really help me.”

That just floored me.

Anyway. Here is the song. It used to be posted here on the blog, but that was a few years ago.

[“Where Do Dark Girls Go?” c- 1982, Marilyn Jaye Lewis, First of May Songs, BMI]

**************

Okay,

Simon Parkes had another update this morning that was really, really sobering and very good. You can only listen to it if you are a member of Connecting Consciousness, though. (It is free to join.)

His updates are similar to Phil’s, yet the differences are striking. However, Simon also says that the White Hat optics, worldwide, are now pretty much off the charts because people are just refusing to wake up. But he also agrees with Phil that this is all coming to an end very soon. (Simon also says that France is very close to the military declaring Martial Law.)

Other than that, though — other than the unbelievable noise and chaos all over the world — things are pretty quiet.

************

From Ross K. Nichols – Messiah: Origins of the Anointed (42 mins):

*******************

James Tabor – Death & Afterlife: From Homer to Plato–Overturning the World (47 mins):

All right.

Today begins my 4-day vacation for the 4th of July holiday. Naturally, about 50% of it will be spent working with Sandra on the play, but the other 50%, I intend to just do my own thing and relax!!!!

I hope you guys are having a great Sunday, wherever you are in the world.

I’m going to get started over here.

Thanks for visiting.

I love you guys. See ya!

***************