Tag Archives: Babe You Turn Me On Nick Cave

Where Do We Draw These Lines of Rage?

I don’t actually have an answer to that question, gang.

I really wish to believe that the intel from the P * tr * ot S t r **t fighter is accurate and that our beloved h  i l  l a  r y has finally left this realm. (See last night’s post.)

I have no proof of this, obviously.  It does seem that a lot of truly unsavory individuals, though, are reportedly being held there in green  land and/or being tried by m* l i t ary tr* bu nals and then either e x e cuted or given some weird plea bargain arrangement, wherein they get to participate, for a little while, in this indescribably insane charade going on all over the  world right now.

Until the body doubles take over, and then God only knows what happens to the originals.

I like to believe this is true. Even when I look at fancy-nan these days, she does not seem the same. She doesn’t look the same; she doesn’t speak in that same indescribably bizarre crazy way. She just seems different now; less off-the-charts, even while her mouth is moving and still spewing crazy shit.

Ditto, of course, the fake B * den in the fake W  H, with the quite inexplicable ears.

Or the sudden resignation and then seemingly utter disappearance of our other beloved fun-loving gal, who ran the most corrupt incarnation of the c  i  a, ever.  What really happened to her? Green land?

I cannot tell you if this stuff is true, gang. I can only tell you what I glean from many other alternative news sources, who seem to have truly uncanny intel most of the time.

But this kuru thing. Wow. (Last night’s P * tr * ot Stre ** t fighter video, below.) Allegedly, h  i  l l a r y died from kuru. And allegedly m *  r k l e also has it.

Kuru is extreme, folks. I mean, really. Come on.  Is this just to try to get us to understand the gravity of these charges of c a  n  n i ba l i sm among the e  l  i t e ? (Well, the s a t an – worshipping ones, anyway.)

(As an aside, I’m guessing you’ve all seen the news re: A r  mi e H a mm er… the renewed accusations, etc.)

None of this shit is coming to the forefront by accident, gang.  This onslaught of messages is definitely not a coincidence. It is timed, targeted, and planned.

You have to step back and look at it all in silence. Without anything to disturb the frequency your mind is tuning to — and you have to ask yourself: What am I looking at?

You know, being raised within a Jewish family (I was adopted as an infant by a family of Eastern European Jewish immigrants, who had escaped the pogroms, but who then had extended family members killed in the concentration c * mps),  it was hard enough to believe those familial-lineage rumors about m * r  k e l. Until I started to see photos of you-know-who’s face, super-imposed on hers; and then vice-versa. And I have to say, the resemblance was not only uncanny, it was also shocking.

And then, I couldn’t see anyone else’s face but his when I looked at her.

And now, she allegedly has kuru, too.

WTF, right? Am I being programmed to believe something, or is this really happening? When I look at all the other atrocious shit going on, or even the not atrocious stuff but the highly unexpected stuff (i.e. Space Force and what they’re up to and all that) — well, I have come to the decision that this shit is really happening.

Every day, the news gets more and more bizarre. For instance, the announcement yesterday that the (fake and incurably corrupt) C D C is indeed advising double m* sks now. A fabric one underneath the paper one.

I’m guessing this is the game-plan now: to give us all bacterial pneumonia. (The only thing that’s clear these days is that a whole heck of a lot of people want us dead and are willing to sleep right through the plot line if it gets them to the closing credits, without dying from pneumonia first themselves.)

I have to ask myself, is this really their push-back, or just more of the charade, to get the sound-asleep among us to just wake the fuck up already. It’s getting ridiculous, how soundly some people can sleep.

For me, a whole lot of it comes down to these m* sks. It’s almost as if it’s all they have left.  I can’t tell you the amount of rage I have over these m* sks and over how many people are believing it. Especially when I’m in town and see little kids wearing them — I want to shout at those mothers who are buying into this garbage and causing God-only-knows what kind of physical and psychological harm to all these children.

I cannot believe that so many people are spineless nowadays and simply tow the line, without using any common sense whatsoever.

This is one of the worst crimes that has happened in America, in my opinion. They removed our Spirit of ’76.  Systematically indoctrinated it right out of the younger generations.

It honestly fills me with nothing but rage — but then, that is what “they” want. To divide and conquer all of us. So where do you draw that line, so as not to give in to all-out hate of your fellow Am er ic ans?

Yesterday, after reading the news re: the new c  d  c m* sk guidelines, I had to spend about an hour reading and re-reading and re-re-reading Matthew, 5:39 (KJV): “But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.”

It is very hard to know what the true teachings of Jesus of Nazareth were because they have become inculcated with the doctrines of Pauline Christianity for 2000 years. Jesus was dead before Paul began teaching. And even though I am willing to believe that Paul and Jesus were tuned to the same frequencies, dead or alive, usually I really just want to know what Jesus of Nazareth, himself, believed, because he is the one who called me to my ministry and into Divinity School, etc.

And I feel in my bones that the Beatitudes give us the closest things we have to the true teachings of Jesus of Nazareth.

And yesterday, as I kept reading Matthew 5:39, and kept trying to find a way to sublimate my rage over not just the atrocities that keep coming to light, but all these endless sheep who are blindly dragging all of us to the slaughter…

Okay. I understand the Law of Attraction. I understand why Jesus would warn against resisting evil because it only attracts more evil right to you. Jesus knew that.

Okay. But Jesus was ex e c ut ed in the end.  If there is one thing we can know for sure about Jesus of Nazareth (and there really is only about one thing we can know for sure because theology has attempted to thoroughly wipe out the history of him and his family); the one thing we can feel certain about is that he was crucified by the Romans. (And yet we can’t be certain about why. Anyway, that’s yet another story…)

Anyway. There are so many parallels between now and the times of Jesus of Nazareth, or the Book of Esther, or the reign of the N a  z i’s, or the Romanovs and the Bolsheviks and the onslaught of C  o  m m unism,

The parallels are there, and they are real, and they are horrific, and so many people, in this country at least, are literally mind-controlled into not seeing it and into participating in it.  If you try to sublimate your rage over this by following the Prince of Peace, by trying to convince yourself “…I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also” — and then the one thing you know for sure about the guy who said that is that they killed him. I don’t know, gang.

All of this shit is just so hard to process.

I do not understand why we’re here. I am one of those people who believes we choose to come here and that we choose when we will leave. And that the entirety of the time we spend here is all about the energy of choices — learning to control the energy of the choices we are making so that we are ultimately choosing the energy frequencies we are at, and then controlling the experiences we are attracting.

But why we do this — I have absolutely no clue.

And I have no clue why people choose to be evil. I cannot get my mind around that and never could.  Even when people raped me repeatedly, and abused me in all manner of ingenious ways — I never once believed it came from an evil place. I never believed in evil. I believed in fearful, misguided people. Not in evil.

But now it seems like I am being asked to believe this, that some people choose to be absolutely evil. And when I begin to believe this, I begin to want them eradicated from the Earth; I want the “eye for an eye; tooth for a tooth” option instead. Which is everything Jesus did NOT teach.

It is so difficult. These dark days.

At this time in my life, at age 60, all I wanted to do was focus on my writing and all my many projects. The two plays getting ready for various stages of production, in NYC and in Canada.  The first script with Abstract Absurdity Productions getting ready to shoot in Los Angeles. A new novel coming out. A memoir in progress. A new collection of short stories in the works. An upcoming reading I was going to do, not to mention going to Switzerland to see Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds in Zurich.

All of it came to a screeching halt and now all that is in my world, all that is on my plate, is fighting to keep this C o n st i t tution from being wiped from the face of the Earth. I get about 5 or 6 hours of sleep a night, and then every waking moment is spent, in some way, on this enormous task. And it’s as if none of the other stuff matters any more.

If I die the moment we know for sure the C  o n st i t u tion is firmly secured, it’s like I don’t even care. If I die, I die. As long as I don’t go a moment before we know it is safe.

So I don’t understand — why do we come here? What the hell is this place? What is “here”? What do we really do while we’re here? I just don’t feel as if I have any kind of a clue anymore.


In other oddly-related news: Nick Cave has some new pencils available for purchase over at Cave Things: Madness and War. (Each collection is £15 plus shipping, and features appropriate lyrics by Nick Cave imprinted on each pencil.) Personally, I think these are rumblings of the upcoming Carnage album.  We’ll see!

Load image into Gallery viewer, MADNESS PENCILS

Load image into Gallery viewer, WAR PENCILS

And on that note, folks. I’m gonna scoot. I hope this finds you well, wherever you are in the world. I leave you with my listening-music from last night, while it was snowing yet again! And seemingly so peaceful…  while I was trying to process by candlelight this idea that our beloved h  i ll  ar y might actually be really gone. “Babe You Turn Me On,” by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds. All righty. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya.


Below: P * tr * ot S tre  ee t fighter:  Currently on Y** T * b* but it will be moved to r  u  m b l e d ot c om. You can find it here. 2.10.21 #47. (57 mins.)

Below: R * d  P * l l 7 8 News: “Today we take a look at the Shampeachment 2.0, expose the lies and hypocrisy behind it and delve into the mysterious death of Ca pit ol P *lice Officer Brian S * ck  n* ck.” (40 mins)

Below: X * 2 R * p * rt: “The im peach  ment trial is a trap for the [**]/MSM. If [**] won by millions of votes what are they worried about? Why are they im peach  ing someone who they cannot remove from office because he doesn’t hold an office? They are panicking. Everything they are talking about will boomerang back at them. The [**]/ c  o  r  r  u pt   p ol i ti cians opened the door to im peach anyone, and to el* ct * on fr*ud and in  su rre ^ c tion. Tr** p must prove his innocence, he must inject evidence legally.” (40 mins.)

Below: (From 2 days ago) Ch * r  l i * W * rd and Mel K News, Spain/US. (49 mins.)

Below: D * n B * n g * no: “In this episode, I discuss the shocking comments by a G*P S * nat or which perfectly encapsulate the attitude of the Swamp. I also discuss the tactics the D*m  ocr ats have used for decades to win messaging battles, and how we can adopt them to fight back.” (1 hr)

Bissextile Joy!!

Yes!! It’s Leap Day!! Yay!!!

And even though “bissextile” is a super happy-looking word because it immediately makes us think of bisexuals and how wonderfully exciting & full of possibilities they are — it really only refers to the Leap Year. (Which, of course, is also wonderfully exciting and full of possibilities, but only in that meager way where non-sexually-related things can ever seem “wonderfully exciting” or “full of possibilities.”)

Well, if I may be serious for just 4 seconds… It’s official. I went from pre-crisis to post-crisis without having an actual crisis, even though it took about 24 solid hours of exhausting brain work to manage it. I awoke at around 3am this morning and realized that the anxiety had passed without ever really taking root and that I was actually feeling happy and in a good place.  That feeling that I needed to have a vice grip on my thoughts was over and my thoughts were just in a really clear space.

And what was even better, when I was down in the kitchen feeding the cats, etc., I had a sort of breakthrough thought — the distinct feeling that it wasn’t going to happen again, that something in my brain had finally really shifted. For real. It was a very pronounced feeling. I’ve come through these episodes feeling stronger each time that it’s happened over the last 5 months or so, but this time, I don’t know — it just felt like it was really over. (Meaning that this emotional trigger I have is done, played out, over.)

I still have some work to do on, I don’t know what to call it — “who I am”.  But I just feel totally different today.

And then I switched to my Easter dishes! Already! (At this rate, I’ll be using my Christmas dishes again by the 4th of July!) I doubt I’m actually going to keep using them all the way up until Easter, I just wanted something really sunny and yellow at the breakfast table this morning (it was still pitch dark outside). So I decided to go ahead and use them.

But what I also detected –lurking deep inside myself somewhere — was a desire to perhaps maybe  — yes —  buy some more dishes!! I really want something cheerful and I don’t want to be using my Easter dishes for like, 6 weeks before Easter.

Of course, I could perhaps peruse the 17,000 dishes I already own and maybe discover a set of cheerful dishes I’d totally forgotten I had. God knows that’s happened before! But we’ll see. Something new might be just really wonderful.

Well, the script work with Peitor was very good yesterday, but also very much like that neurosurgery thing.  Where each word, every shot, was under a microscope.  We worked for a few hours and we were still on the same page that we’d started on at the beginning of the session. However, we brought our main character in through the door and across the room and standing where he needs to be standing when he finally says his first line of (killer) dialogue.

But at that point, we came to a little impasse because Peitor was seeing that specific shot (with the line of dialogue) differently than I was, so we had to just totally stop and really think about it.

ME: “We need to keep this completely seamless here or we’ll lose the erotic energy of that line.”

HIM: “No. We need to break out of that POV, just for a moment, create a breath, a space, and then come right back. Something Luis Bunuel.”

ME (thinking this, not saying it because saying it would have only been indescribably petulant at that moment): “Should we just slice the guy’s eye? That’ll create some emotional space.” (Un Chien Andalou, 1929)

But, yes! — you can be proud of me; I did not say that. It would have gone nowhere fast. Instead, I said something like, “I don’t agree with what you want to do here but if you feel that strongly about it, let’s just explore that direction.” (I was really mature for a wee bonny lass of 12.)

And so then we explored it, and we made a little progress but ultimately we left it right at that line of dialogue yesterday and will resume on Tuesday.  (But I did text him at about 6:03am this morning, my time zone, to urgently point out: “We forgot to have him take off that white trench coat!”)

It seems pretty clear, though, that the destiny of Abstract Absurdity Productions is that great & lofty art museums all over the world will one day include our work in their future exhibitions of Little Known Cinematic Masterpieces of the Early 21st Century Short-Subject Film Movement. Because, man, this stuff we’re doing is just fucking insane. And it is taking forever.

All righty. Well. Today will be about yoga, washing my hair, and just feeling happy. Sort of maybe even triumphant — I’m actually getting to that place where I can believe that I’m not only allowed to be alive, but that I can also have more than just the tiniest existence. I can feel that I’m still taking these mental baby steps. Still, it’s all right. I think the idea that I wanted to buy more dishes today was sort of a breakthrough, too. You know, like: I don’t give a fuck that I already have a million dishes; the reality is that I want more. So we’ll see.

And then I’ll also probably write something!

So, have a great Saturday, wherever you are in the world! I hope you have that breakthrough you need– if, indeed, you are seeking one! Thanks for visiting, gang.  I’m still in that awkward listening-space of “Babe, You Turn Me On” at night and “Take Five” in the morning (!!), so you can either scroll over to yesterday’s post and/or the post from the day before and listen to those amazing songs again. Or, I could leave you with this.

When I was about 4 years old, I had the soundtrack to this — the Broadway cast of the musical, Peter Pan. And I loved this lullaby, “Distant Melody”. It made me think of my “real” mother — my birth mom. I was always trying to remember who she was, even all the way back then.

This song used to make me believe that I could somehow remember what she felt like — to be held by her. Even though I was told that I was created by accident — born by accident — I knew, even in my tiny little bones, that my real mother loved me and wanted me back. (And I was right.) All righty. I love you guys. See ya!

“Distant Melody”

Peter? Do you know a lullaby to sing to our children?
Lullaby? Lullaby.
I think so.
Sometimes, late at night I seem to remember…

Once upon a time and long ago,
I heard someone singing soft and low.
Now when day is done and night is near,
I recall a song I used to hear.

My child, my very own,
Don’t be afraid you’re not alone.
Sleep until the dawn for all is well.

Long ago this song was sung to me.
Now it’s just a distant melody.
Somewhere from the past I used to know,
Once upon a time and long ago.

c  – 1954 Leigh/Comden/Green

A Bright Snowy Morning in Crazeysburg!!

Yes, it is a really sunny morning out there today. Here’s what it looks like outside one of my bedroom windows right now:

The intersection of Basin and First Streets at 8am.











Just a really pretty morning here, even though it snowed a little during the night.  (And the birds are still singing, despite the snow!)

You want to know something else that’s really charming that my neighbors know about me? I never shovel the fucking snow!! Yay!! Because I have the longest sidewalk in the entire town. And I am not making that up! I actually have the longest fucking sidewalk in the entire town — the one that runs from the front corner of my house all the way to the back edge of my barn.  So it’s not fair to ask me to shovel that, when everyone else in town only has to shovel, like, a 3-foot long thing. Plus, God does this thing called “melting it eventually” so I choose to rely on that. (It’s similar to that thing God does wherein He provides wind to blow all my un-raked leaves away — or into neighboring yards.)

But, of course, there are those smarty-pants people who like to point out that if someone falls and breaks their back on my snowy sidewalk, I could get sued! But if it ever really gets that bad out there, I will put out my sign that says: CAUTION: ICY!! WALK AT YOUR OWN RISK BECAUSE I AIN’T F*CKING SHOVELING THIS STUFF! And under that, the handy NRA-member logo:

Don’t Shovel!! Make America Great Again!!







I am, of course, just kidding. I am not a member of the NRA. I don’t own any guns at all.  (If you aren’t an American — the NRA is a very powerful political gun lobby here in the USA, and membership in the NRA implies that you own many licensed guns and are more than happy to use them and that your aim is probably spot-on.)

Still,  I’m not kidding about not shoveling…


Life’s good here in Crazeysburg. I hope it’s good where you’re at, too.

This morning is another one of those Abstract Absurdity Productions script-writing days. We are headlong into Scene 5 now. I don’t expect us to finish writing Scene 5 today because that would be really out of character for us — the scene is a good 60 seconds long. But I do expect it to be really fun because it is just a very, very weird scene. It’s the scene that the whole movie leads up to and then gently falls away from as it trickles to its lofty end. (Or “fin” — as they say in so many film-languages.)

In case you’re interested, gang, yesterday was my first day back doing yoga after 3 weeks of doing Booty Core. I could not believe the difference in the strength in my body.

I don’t do any complicated yoga poses, because mostly I just want to maintain flexibility. But I do headstands, and I couldn’t believe the difference in my arms. And also — as I mentioned a couple weeks ago — in my neck. And I love to do elbow planks and I am suddenly really good at that. (Not that planks are part of yoga, I’m just saying that I like doing those.)

So even though Booty Core got really challenging for me, it made a huge difference. So I will keep doing it.

However, I did have a weird pain issue in my legs again last night.  And I’m thinking it’s probably psychosomatic. Loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt are aware that I am the kind of person who is always always trying to stay alive. I’ve been plagued by a lifetime of suicidal tendencies — that I don’t believe adequately define who I really am. It’s just that my brain was taught, when I was really little, that I didn’t deserve to exist — that my existence was merely being tolerated, for now — and that it would be preferable if I didn’t exist.

So my brain’s fallback position, when I’m feeling stressed about something, is to try to negate my existence.  I honestly think my brain thinks it’s doing me a favor — or at least, it’s doing what it was taught it was supposed to do. (And I’m making a huge differentiation here between my brain and my mind. My brain is this sort of machine set on automatic, whereas my mind is this amazing, wide-ranging, free-spirited energetic-essence type thing. So it’s a case of my Mind vs. my Brain.)

But I really have been plagued by this brain of mine for decades. And one of my life-long triggers — something I constantly have to deal with in my personality, which involves believing in a lack of love — is hovering out there on my horizon and I just simply refuse to deal with it anymore, you know? I’m just done. I am so fucking done dealing with this shit.

But it means that every single time my brain tells me that “I don’t deserve love, I deserve to die” I have to get in there and replace it with a better thought. It’s a type of addiction — you have to reprogram your brain to respond to something else. And it is fucking exhausting.

I don’t want to spend any additional time thinking about my adoptive parents and how damaging they wound up being to me. I only want my brain to stop doing this. Like, now. I’m so over it. Every single damn day I deal with it, but it only gets really bad when a trigger thing starts happening. And a trigger thing is hovering, so now I’m not only trying to reprogram my brain, but totally eradicate the trigger, too. So that the triggers don’t exist anymore, either.

Anyway, I did really really good yesterday. But by mid-evening, I was just exhausted from it. That feeling, like, why doesn’t somebody just shoot this girl, and put her out of her misery once and for all? Which, of course, goes against everything I was working so hard on during the day!!

And then I noticed the extreme pain in my legs attempting to return — maybe a way for my body to say: we’re going to pull the whole world out from under you, starting with your legs. So, at that point, the only really productive thing I can do is go to bed and start again in the morning. (Meaning, here we are again.)

It’s just so frustrating.  When it comes to everyone else on Earth — for instance, YOU, whoever you are, reading this right now — I completely believe that you deserve to be loved, that you are loved and that you deserve to live. It’s just a given inside me. I believe that about you without even knowing who you are, how you’ve lived, what you do or think about.

But to believe it about me, is extremely difficult. It is a 24/7 job. Or maybe an 18/7 job, because when I’m sleeping, I’m just fine. And most of the time, nowadays, I am sort of fine. I’ve made so much progress out here alone in the Hinterlands. But when I’m facing a trigger point, if it gets out of control, I do actually get suicidal and I absolutely refuse to go there. So then it becomes like a job. And I just feel, like, oh fuck, here we go again.

However, it was really good to notice what my legs did when my thoughts changed last night. So I’m going to keep that in mind.

And I also woke up feeling like I really did make progress yesterday. Because, you know, my life doesn’t have to be some huge tidal wave of joy washing over me for me to feel like living. Just tiny baby steps in the direction of joy is enough. It really is. Because it builds from there.

So waking up to a couple of texts from Peitor on my phone. And opening the blinds and seeing more snow. And going down to the kitchen to be greeted by 7 crazy happy healthy cats. And turning on the CD player — the Dave Brubeck Quartet greeting me again with “Take Five.” A couple of my favorite little pictures of Nick Cave scattered there on my kitchen table. And then plugging in the coffee pot.

Little joys.

That makes for a really good morning. Because then my thoughts can move from there to the larger joys — the plays going into production now, the production company with Peitor, the books I’m still writing, the words going out there into the world, and the best Muse I’ve ever had in my life. And new people I’m meeting. And traveling this year — it starts to turn into a really good day.

So I gotta scoot!! I have stuff to get organized here at my desk before Peitor calls.  I leave you with my listening-music from last evening, before the legs went. I’ve posted this song here before, but I just love it. The imagery. The melody. How it goes to such enigmatic places. “Babe, You Turn me On,” from Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, Abattoir Blues/ The Lyre of Orpheus, 2004. Enjoy!! I love you guys. See ya!

“Babe, You Turn Me On”

Stay by me, stay by me
You are the one, my only true love

The butcher bird makes it’s noise
And asks you to agree
With it’s brutal nesting habits
And it’s pointless savagery
Now, the nightingale sings to you
And raises up the ante
I put one hand on your round ripe heart
And the other down your panties

Everything is falling, dear
Everything is wrong
It’s just history repeating itself
And babe, you turn me on

Like a light bulb
Like a song

You race naked through the wilderness
You torment the birds and the bees
You leapt into the abyss, but find
It only goes up to your knees
I move stealthily from tree to tree
I shadow you for hours
I make like I’m a little deer
Grazing on the flowers

Everything is collapsing, dear
All moral sense has gone
It’s just history repeating itself
And babe, you turn me on

Like an idea
Like an Atom bomb

We stand awed inside a clearing
We do not make a sound
The crimson snow falls all about
Carpeting the ground

Everything is falling, dear
All rhyme and reason gone
It’s just history repeating itself
And, babe, you turn me on

Like an idea
Like an Atom bomb

c – 2004 Nick Cave