Lennysmile

There's a great picture I saw today on a website honoring the great poetess of rocknroll, Patti Smith. Everyone knows that I am a huge Patti Smith fan. I stand tall in line with the others for #1 Fan club member...but the true FanClub I belong to is for her longtime gee-tar player, Lenny Kaye. Now Lenny has the honor of being my adult Bobby Sherman.

I belonged to the Bobby Sherman fan club when I was around 8 years old; and soon after he was on the show "Here come the Brides." I wrote to him, and dreamed of him, and carried my Bobby Sherman lunchbox proudly. I had his signed picture up on my wall. Needless to say I had a HUGE crush on Bobby Sherman, possibly because even though I was only 10 years old, we were most likely the same height.

Now funny enough, that was around 1968, when groovy bands like The Kinks had already published their Greatest Hits and songs like "Your Really Got Me" were being dance to all over the world; and psychadelic dudes like Lenny Kaye were starting their own bands like The Lenny Kaye Connection, and beginning his own career in music as RockLegand, and writer. Bobby Sherman was just cute. It had nothing to do with the music.

As far as music goes, Lenny makes me smile. I love his his hardrockin and mistical guitarplaying, and his little gigs he does all over the city. His work with Patti Smith I have no words for. Basically I have a hard time describing music I love. But besides that he's just dreamy. All the gals love him. I have been known to stare into the computer as I listen to webcasts from Germany, or stare at his picture up on my screen almost real-time from Japan, smiling at him as if he can see me. Since having the opportunity to meet him many long years ago, I have been lucky enough to have some big laughs with him, and get jealous of the other girls who dance with him, or flirt with him. And although he is happily married to the lovely Miss Stephanie, a sweet friend of mine, I still get that PANG when I see him up on stage singing to ME...of course he's singing to ME, right? Isn't that what all our rocknroll heroe's do? Sing to us?

Lenny has been called the nicest guy in RockRoll..but he's way more than that. He's a good friend, and a kind human. A wonderful father and a devoted husband. When I'm really sick I'll get a nice email from him reminding me of the importance of life, or I'll go and see him appear at a fundraiser for someone down and out on their luck. Someone lucky enough to call him friend.

For lunch today I'm drinking iced coffee and passing on the meal. Someday I'm gonna get skinny again and find me a guy like Lenny that I can dream about and that loves me...but it's not going to happen unless I forego the icecream for lunch diet...comeon..we all know that the men of our dreams go for rockchicks..and this rockchick can't get into her leather skirt so lunch is pure caffeine today.

Here's to our guitar heros', to the one who we dream of and look up into the sky and see when times are hard...and sighing is way more fun than eating anyway...

Reliefinsite.com.

An early lunch -- or is it brunch? Hot Italian coffee and some pain pills...what more does a girl need to start a saturday working in the garden that my puppies dug up.

I have been asked to work on a project for reliefinsite.com - a webcam project with the help of icyou.com. I think I will work on it as part of my Lisa at Lunch blog. As pain is a daily issue, I will probably incorporate my sad and bad pain poetry in it. What could possibly be worse than Pain poetry? Well..um..me READING my pain poetry on a webcam! Who knows, maybe I'll meet someone with a prescription pad!

This is a favorite. It's actually what happened to me during an aura I had, before a migraine. Very mystical. To be honest, I don't know what I would do without poetry. And pain meds... oh, and YOU!



ps.. the last of my baby birds has flown the coop..



Pain During a Migraine

the wind blows
so pretty
lifting the leaves off
the metal chairs on the porch
dancing sideways and this ways
and that.
they tap their feet
wrapped in silk ballet slippers
some in pink socks
others in brown paper bags.
flitting about weaving in between cars
not a worry in the world, lifting their skirts.
leaves twirl in rainstorms
capture sun
on the veins of their
translucent skin. I watch them go.
here and there
the squirrels chase them.
Left here to play alone I cannot move I
hold my head in pain
speak softly.
really, i truly want to sob.
-lw