Thursday, February 21, 2019

Farewell, Pete

You guys.

I've lost the love of my life.

I think Drummer Boy will be OK with me saying that. At least today.

Peter Tork - Monkee, musician, human being - has passed away.

I am beyond devastated, Drunkards.

Peter was a gifted multi-instrumentalist singer-songwriter who found himself immortalized in a TV pop band. He got the part, or at least the audition, because he looked like Stephen Stills. This world is random and has a perverse sense of humor.

They're both gone.
In 2013, I was privileged to see Peter perform live at the Granada Theater in Dallas. I met him. He autographed my ticket.

He was the second best part of an amazing night.

The best part was sharing it with my dear friend BekS and my darling Drummer Boy.

They've both reached out to share our collective grief that this sweet, talented, gifted person has left us.

Peter was on my list - you know, that list of people your significant other knows and understands you would def sleep with if you had the chance. Hell, Peter basically was my list. Thing is, my ex-spouse was good with it, and Drummer Boy was good with it. Because...fucking Peter Tork. He was probably on their lists, as well. Peter was that kind of guy.

Oh, Peter. I'll forever remember your bassline on "Pleasant Valley Sunday" and your harpsichord on "The Girl That I Knew Somewhere" and your vocal on "Do I Have to Do This All Over Again." I'll remember your stellar solo work, most recently with Shoe Suede Blues.

And I'll forever remember meeting you and sharing a smile with you, and knowing that you were (or at least acted) as pleased to be seated next to me as I was to be seated next to you.

Rest in peace, sweet Peter. I hope you recognized a bare fraction of the love you made while you were here.

I miss you already.

Wednesday, November 28, 2018

Knock-Knock. Who the Hell Is There?

Hi, it's me, talking about ghosts again.

For the record, this isn't an "I watch waaay too much Buzzfeed Unsolved" thing. I absolutely do gorge on Buzzfeed Unsolved, but I'm not looking for spooky lights or whipping out the old spirit box. Yet.

Oh, and even though I totally believe in ghosts, I'm a #Shaniac, not a #Boogara. Because Ryan is kind of a whiny bitch, whereas I'd be right next to Shane in an abandoned mission yelling "Hey demon boi!" any day of the week.

Um...if I've lost you and you have no idea what I'm talking about, forget about it. Or check it out.

Prepare to binge watch.
Back to me.

Last night, I slept on my couch. That's a thing I do now that I live alone, partly because sometimes I'm too damn lazy to move to my bedroom, but also because the pull-out couch is much firmer than my bed and I find I toss and turn a lot less. There's also more room for the Siamese Kitten, although she'd rather just curl up in the middle of my pillow while I awkwardly try to fit my head next to her.

So there I was, sleeping, when I was awakened by a noise. A series of noises, actually. A series of thuds. They weren't dull thuds, they weren't sharp thuds. They were just...thuds. Sometimes there was a single thud, sometimes they came in pairs or even three at a time. A few seconds would pass between each one.

They seemed to be coming from various locations - overhead, from the next room, outside. It was hard to tell exactly where they originated. I had no idea what was causing them. My first idea was that the wind was blowing around fairly heavy objects that were on the building roof and/or patios. That would explain the different directions they came from. But when I looked outside there wasn't a breath of wind, and what would have been up on the roof, anyway?

Then I thought maybe it was noise from the construction site next door. But it was way too early for the construction crew to be working. I didn't see people or moving vehicles over there, either.

I even thought it might be the Siamese Kitten having a middle-of-the-night zoom. As she does. Nope, she was fast asleep on my pillow. In fact, she didn't even seem to notice the thuds, except once when she briefly lifted her head, then immediately settled back. The thuds were much louder than her typical thunderpaws, anyway.

The noises were definitely not simply a neighbor walking down the hallway of the building. It's concrete, and it echoes - a lot. The thuds had no echo at all.

Finally, it wasn't noise associated with the furnace. The heat kicked on and then off during this episode - the thuds continued whether it was running or not.

Eventually they just stopped. If they ever came back, I slept through them. Weird.

Ghosts probably hate when we do that.

Oddly enough, I didn't feel at all afraid or uncomfortable during any of this. Strange noises in the night usually freak me out a little - especially when I'm alone. But all I felt was curious as these unexplained thuds beat out their odd tattoo around me.

What do you think, Drunkards? Do I have a (pretty tame) poltergeist? Or am missing a really obvious explanation?