Misfit's Memories

Remembering My First Saturn Cycle When I was 30 in 1979, I killed the motor in my family’s Vega station wagon, and replaced it with a ‘73 Gold Ford Pinto w/moon roof and a hot-ass-repair voucher in the glove box, left the kids behind, safely tucked with their Father in their GrandMother’s Pennsylvania hometown, and took off for the Jersey Shore to help my Gay Uncle, Jimmy Paul McBride, restore a Cabin Cruiser in drydock. He later disowned me for editing the name of his boat, by painting out the B in OBLIVIA with house paint, leaving an apostrophe, to read the more Gaelic O’LIVIA, because before I’d left Home, I’d had a prophetic dream about being stretched out on the bow, hunting overboard trying to find him underwater. My Father’s baby brother wasted that entire winter at the boatyard trying to impress me into his ‘Christian’ Coven…so when I trumped his naming power, I crushed his wizard’s ego. Last time I saw him, he was crumpled over a cup of diner coffee, sobbing to his rich Yew Norker Lady Priestess, who asked me to leave him alone w/ her, so I did. He was bemoaning the $500 cost of ‘repairing’ my ‘vandalism‘, totally missing the point. I found out later from my Favorite Uncle Jack, that Jimmy had tattled on me to my Dad, after years of being incommunicado, who just told me recently that Brother Paul had died young(only 13 yrs.older than me), 10 years later in the Port of New Orleans. So, I guess he got the boat afloat, and he’d survived his unappealingly sinister moog music rituals. Too bad he‘s dead, but I’ll always remember him giving me The Spring Tour of the Big Apple, and taking me to the Top o’ the Tower restaurant at the World Trade Center where he bought me a Manhattan, then took me to a bar in Greenwi(t)ch Village to meet a witchy woman who gave me a gold earring, and introduced me to Perrier to sober me up before he took me home on the Ferry under the Statue of Liberty, where he “came out“ to me, and I had to tell him that I‘d known since he was a teen-ager. At the first bar on the Jersey side, I called a pit stop to run in and BUY MYSELF the bartender’s version of his New Jersey‘s cocktail…a Brandy Alexander, which he served to me just as my impatient Uncle came in from the car, tired of waiting for me, only to pull up a stool and flirt with the bartender while I leisurely enjoyed the classy buzz of down-to-earth barfly entertainment.

http://thebroadsside.blogspot.com/2014/03/i-am-glad, not-gay.

http://thebroadsside.blogspot.com/2014/03/

not-gay.html#links

Today at the computer...

Grown-up Malcolm and Granny Lil'

Intruder Alert...sending notice to LandLady.

Re: the effeminate boyfriends down the hall, who have been panhandling me during siesta at my bedroom door off MY kitchen, are hereby DOOMED to be cursed by an angry, bitchy WitchDoctor...

Old Blogger's Fan Letter.

review of my oldest blog, by Anonymous, a regular follower of thebroadsside.blogspot.com "May I simply just say what a relief to uncover someone that truly knows what they're talking about on the web. You definitely know how to bring a problem to light and make it important. A lot more people need to read this and understand this side of your story. It's surprising you're not more popular since you certainly possess the gift."

memo to Anonymous

Compliments from advertizers are spammed and deleted from trash bin.

Lucky Karma

I am 65 and it’s taken me this long to realize that I’ve succeeded in living my chosen lifestyle of a radical Feminist/HipiWitch, feeling like a trespasser, challenging status quo pseudo-values, nursing the best Magic, following a discipline of Grace. I don’t think I’m gonna live as long as my well-doctored parents have, but my only discomfort is worrying about leaving my last BlackDog a widow. I thank the Goddess for Garlic and Valerian and Cinnamon, Cannabis, Aspirin, and Grape juice. I thank the Fates for my Sister Pegasus, and the opportunity I’ve been given to contribute to our harbor and mutual understanding in our elder years, how ever many we are lucky enough to have together. I thank my Lucky Stars that I didn’t succumb to being average. I am grateful for deciding young to follow the Beat of the Different Drummer.

I am Glad, NOT Gay.

I am 65 and it’s taken me this long to realize that I’ve succeeded in living my chosen lifestyle of a radical Feminist/HipiWitch, feeling like a trespasser, challenging status quo pseudo-values, nursing the best Magic, following a discipline of Grace. I don’t think I’m gonna live as long as my well-doctored parents have, but my only discomfort is worrying about leaving my last BlackDog a widow. I thank the Goddess for Garlic and Valerian and Cinnamon, Cannabis, Aspirin, and Grape juice. I thank the Fates for my Sister Pegasus, and the opportunity I’ve been given to contribute to our harbor and mutual understanding in our elder years, how ever many we are lucky enough to have together. I thank my Lucky Stars that I didn’t succumb to being average. I am grateful for deciding young to follow the Beat of the Different Drummer.

Service Dog Registration

SERVICE DOG REGISTRATION Name: Shoshoni Lill’ian Type: ChowXService Dog, b.2002 Handler: MorganaSage a.k.a.Sheryl Williams cellfone # 478-320-0983

FaceBook Excerpts re: Escape from the South

My son in Texas claimed my golfcart, so living in Tecopa while Kathy is laid up, is NOT possible for me at my advanced stage of Rheumatoid arthritis, up from my toes. I'm planning with Lisa Schade to land in Bishop, and volunteer to nurse orphans at her I CARE rescue facility. Just got my retirement benefits coming in, so I will be able to afford California rents, and taxi rides to the grocery store, and play with Lillian in her last years with her desert clans. Jon Zellhaufer was the town's only?landlord, but he's been missing in Florida for years, so there must be squatters at downtown. these days, probably nesting with my household stash that I left behind.