Rain and grey here in Atlanta since I've returned. I'm GETTING SO dEpRESSED!

Everything is just feeding my soulful yearning for the far east. I've realized many terrible things today. I'm bloody addicted to coffee and I WASN'T before this trip: now i'm frekkin shaking cuz i been without for 3 days, and everyday I looked and looked everywhere for the coffee grinder cuz all I had was some Jamacan whole beans but then I'd get high and forget i was looking and spend the rest of the day with an aching and as yet unrecognizable need. Then this morning, I finallly realize that I need coffee, need it as badly as a baby; a tit, an alcaholic; his bottle, a nympho; her dildo.

Then, i realize that I've not left the house for any non-obligatory reason since i've returned. That world scares me. I feel much safer at home with my 5 TVs, my computer, my camera, my redtube and youporn, and the glorious glorious internet.

Every bloody day its fuckin wet and grey and I want warm sunshine so bad-never get tired of sunshine and warmth!

I try to be social: but all the people i know socialize primarily by night...and simply because my time clock refuses to reset by jet-speed modern time expectations... I just can't stay awake properly after 9 pm, and I'm up before dawn. And daylight makes a mockery because when I look out my window its nothing but dead plants, dead trees, and grey fucking gray!! Everything is grey!

Then I'm thinking, I need to get out. Seriously. I need to meet people that excite me, i need to fall in love. How am i ever going meet anyone if I'm going to waste this vacation tan to the resumed pasty whiteness of my computer screen glow saturated life. ON the internet?? NOO! I refuse! I have to get out there.

I turn off the tv, which I'm already needing too much, again, and resist (or maybe not) turning on redtube or youporn (god i'm horny and I can't get that austrailian out of my head: a favorite photo of us on my desktop makes me feel warm, nostolgic and sweet in theotherwise soulless glow of my screen), I pick out a old favorite skirt and look forward to the wholesome outdoorsy activity of buying a newspaper and clip-clopping down to the local coffee shop where artisty types might be hanging out. Mmmmm COOOFFEEE

I miss travelling so much, and i'm seriously missing Vietnamese coffee with sweetmilk. Oh myy god! Its so good to hear from you always. I'm keeping up with Trevor (whose in Japan), Reid and Luke, (spending NyE in Siam Reap (SOO FUKKIN JEALOUS!), and a few others whose news from home fall on greatful hungry thirsty ears.

So although your story was PAINFULLY tragic, it was also a joyus balm to my travel-starved (and caffine starved) heart.

I'm off to meet sexy artist/musicians and or underground rich business men types who travel a lot and let you do what you want.

Oh god! Gotta stop!
croftee!

ruminating on memories

Are we human? or are we dancer?

The Killers ask. It seems to me the humans are the dancers, the dancers human...and those skulking in the sidelines, or drifting through the dance floor oblivious to the music or too afraid of what they'll look like to dance, are not even human.

Well, i just grooved my way though S.E.Asia, where life is poppin and lockin as well as fucky jiving. Each moment was magical and living with the unfamiliar became dependable. Keeping moving provided certainty that each new day would be exciting.

The grey wet wintertime pock marked with a tragic public outbreaking of Consumer Fever has cheapened this American Dream story for me. Responsibility is hard to take seriously when a country and mindset ask it of you, while upholding a culture where people haven't a clue what taking resposibilty for self means. I'm trying to convince myself that I need to find a career asap, but this isn't truely what I want to do.

I want to get back there. I want to get back to living on the move, frugally and spontaneously. I'm dying to get to Safari Lodge in Fiji and serve cocktails to sassy foreigners as the sun sets each evening. I'm craving the cool mountian air of Pair and itching to explore the cave-ridden craigs outside Cave Lodge, Sappong, Thailand. I missed so much of Laos, the wilds of the north and wonders of its deep south known only by other travellers and not myself. And Cambodia...you siren of kingdoms--the smiles of your people speak across oceans and I feel their warmth in the cold wet Georgia rain.

And there's more, Burma, Indonesia, Malaysia, New Zealand...and the year in Australia.

I've decided to try my hand at creating a travel guide video series based on my own travels and see if anyone likes the idea....So stay tuned for this. I gotta make this passion work for me...HAVE to

New Instabilities and Finding Ground

It's hard to trust myself. My own well-meaning words betray me...



Sometimes when I'm specifically trying to NOT do something, I'm focusing on that something so much that I end up doing it.

I have a random issue to get off my chest.

Came back to my best-friend guy room mate having settled in with a gal he'd only been dating when I left. I like the gal. But I have a fear stemming from having lost awesome guy friends to new female love interests. The most esteemed man and friend I had in my life I lost to a long-term girlfriend turned wife. I tried in every way to meet and woo said fiancee. Without having met me she put her foot down and he cut off all ties with me to "preserve the stability of family" or some such business. I feel still the weight of sorrow and regret for history having followed a senseless path.

Back from the trip, with my roomie's and his lady's relationship escalated, old fears dominate my thinking and since I'm trying so hard to be nice and no matter what keep domestic situations friendly I'm afraid that I'll actually come off as being cold, or jealous, or Anything Bad...While away I came to value my roomies friendship as one of the most precious in my life--a due I gave to only one other, He who still fills my dreams with sorrow--the only time I ever get to see him anymore.

In my doubt and being my self-conscious over-thinking self, will I actually create a self-fulfilling prophecy??

Uh oh, my best creativity stemming from THIS man: Sean Bedlam

Here's a response to one of Sean Bedlam's videos. The video should be at the bottom for reference. I'm thinking of turning this into a video response. I'll post that if it comes up.

concise. well said. hey, I've heard of the world. Other than Americaland, there's Europia, Chinkland, Blackland, JungleCocaine Land, and the Debtor's Colony of Olde AND the Moon. (which is ours too)

did I leave anything out? oh yeah, the Land of Israel. I know that one cuz thats where MY MAN jesus flag-waved and shot bears for Office Supply Stores that were popping up all over Jerusalem. Noted Roman Politicians like Saramus Paillanus had huge rare animals draped in their offices. See? I know history okay. AND geography.

Do you think it sucks that YOU come from bastards, criminals, and heretics while WE, Americaland, come from Pious Hardworking and Revolutionary Colonists and that we fucking INVENTED democracy so its fucking ours, and we're going to fucking shove it down the throats of whoever we damn well please. (wha-? ahem, what did you say? the french came up with democracy???--NO! fuck off. Its ours.) We've got the greatest constitution on earth and even though its 200 odd years old, it its enough to satisfy today's complex issues.

We rule. Take that Sean




Hey, i'm leaving in a few days for my trip! I'll be blogging on my travel blog check it!

http://Ladycroft.travellerspoint.com

A response to Sean Bedlam on Sara Pallin-McCain's Bitch

(Some filler here-Fuck Knob is Sean Bedlam's term for anyone whose running for Vice president who used to be a Beauty Queen)check out the seanbedlam blog to see his set up)

i'm obessed with Fuck Knob as well.

She is SOOO fucking hot, after all. Like seriously, when i saw her, my eyes dilated, my blood pressure dropped, but most amazingly i got a clitoral erection which flooded My nether lands. Let me tell you one thing, my body is a barometer for public prurient interest. I love Jerry Springer, World Wrestling Entertainment, and Porn, and i know that thats all shite. I know what its there for and I proud to say I don't allow myself to become entrapped in that world. reality tv is shit and so is unreality tv.

Anywho, Fuck Knob is not only the finest broad ever, who I just wanna dress up in teacher outfit, give her a yard stick, and beg her "please ma'am, may i have another?", but worst of all, John gran-Daddy MaCain is kinda sexy along side her. In his blue suit and with his white hair, and god-knows-globs-of make-up on to disguise the fact that he's 167 years old-despite all that, HE'S hot too, so I'm kinda hoping while she's giving a speech that he'll just lift her skirt and give her a good rumpin' right there on the podium...

is that wrong? I mean, Am i the ONLY one (other the mr. bedlam-who somehow found out about the marketing guy who punches in the statistics and comes up with the Optimal Prime Running Mate) who wants to puke because blatant pornography is all over CNN and shouldn't we have people like Aristotle and shit? Not fuckin Ron McCain Jeremy and Sasha Fuck-Knob Grey waving and screaming and shaking small retarded children on front the cameras -doing all that they can to cull anyone and everyone away from Obama.

Here, take MY opinion while I eat YOURS for breakfast

No matter what you think of the Olympics i don't think things are a matter of you should or shouldn't watch it because of this or that.

Firstly, the Olympics are cool to look at. Damn, that opening ceremony was effing hellacious. I've never seen so much money outputted so spectacularly. 2008 over and over. So many people coordinated. So impressively pulled off with out a hitch.

(oh, i'm not totally ignorant--I know about the Russian attack on Georgia, the question is-who cares???THE OLYMPICS ARE ON!!!)

Its no secret that I don't dislike trite television drama. and it seems the announcers have been fully briefed on all the athletic drama. Suspense is heightened by strategically prurient information about certain athletes.

Cheers to the US Men's Relay Champions. Damn, that was a tight race. Sorry French boys.

Sure, there are lots of things I DON'T like about how the Chinese do things, but there are things I don't like about how the US does things either. I'm not out pointing fingers and spouting my opinion about this or that. For all the righteous arguments people spout and bumpersticker about, there are always things besides the points that people don't take into account. You can talk Tibet but you probably won't talk about lots of other situations like Tibet going on that country, other countries, or even the USA which would undermine--render moot your point-whatever it is.

Course, observing the fallout of Olympicnessness that occurred 12 years ago here in Atlanta, I tremor with gritted teeth to imagine the restructuring of Beijing: the up-rooting of undesirable people among some concerns there. The scale of the Opening Ceremonies made me feel sorry for anyone who might have stood in the way of the Olympic Committees Gaze. We stuck homeless people on one-way buses to Birmingham, Alabama. Where did all the Chinese Hobos go?

But thats the nature of THE Olympics to begin with. Its not China's fault per se, but I've heard a lot of indignation at expressed by people in general to China in general.

But compelling and inspiring, none the less, is the expression of peace and goodwill. (ok, i make a concession here: an attempt at expressing peace and goodwill while strengthening patriotism, a male bred aggressive disease) But its still rockin' seeing Teams from various countries, some politically not on good terms, be mates side by side, shaking hands. Its still amazing to see so much human advancement in 4 years. The men's swimmers are shattering world records with seconds to spare. Its just soul food to see the strongest examples of human potential, almost all suspiciously good looking. It makes for great entertainment though.

China is a strong and wonderful country whose history is underestimated and whose people are commonly misunderstood. (by we westerners) !

Brushing aside the entire Olympics and the attitude that by boycotting them you are behaving enlightened is bullshit that you are allowed to do but please don't rub it in. There are things I don't like, like zealous patriotism, and hearing the national anthem of any country turns on the suspicious light in my noggin that warns me of brainwashing waves in my vicinity. But don't you doubt that nearly every time I hear the Star Spangled Banner, the light goes off after a moment, and I allow loving feelings for this country to wash over me and through me, very often ending in squeezing a few drops of seawater from my eyes.

It does suck having to listen to the American Anthem like 3 times in a night watching the Olympics on TV, but it IS kinda cool hearing anthems of obscure countries you've never heard before.

Yes, the Olympics are a sell out. They are a distraction. They are spectacle of the Roman Colosseum magnified and evolved through time to make a lot of money for some people, and to arouse nationalistic feelings of loyalty in people that might be counter-productive if you think that in the future we'll have to get over our affinity to draw borders around everything. Thats a man invention too, by the way.

But they are also going to go on with or without you. We have other things to fry. Like how we treat people on our day to day lives, and how informed we are about our local governments and how THEY are run. The Olympics were a joy for me to watch growing up. I wasn't a sporty kid, but I loved watching them none-the-less. It upholds fairness and honest-to-goodness human funness. I find it way better to watch than most of the violent silly stuff on television.

i gotta stop typing and go to bed now.
It was real. Hi Pete.

Crofteepoo

Breakfast of Croftians

ahem-champions. On the other hand, make that croftians. Sometimes you just gotta eat some protein for breakfast. I know I oughtta keep breakfast light with fruit, nuts, yogurt, cearals, things like that...but I have no problems with fryin up an egg, extra gooey in the middle, slatherin' some buttah on some toast, and crispin up some texturized vegitable protein in the sausage patty form (aka, SNOSages) and topping it off with a hot hot cup of strong english breakfast tea replete with a spoonful of sugar and a dollop of milk.'

The only thing is, I frekkin wolfed it down in like 45 seconds. I didn't even realize I was doing it until I looked down with one bite left. I was like, damn, I'm not even swollowing sometimes betweeen bites, i think i need to slow it down a little, especially with all this heavy ass food.

Turns out the restaurant industry does this to you: causes you to swallow whole portions of food in a single ferocious glup. Under the pressure of an atmosphere of intense urgency to move quickly, I've learned how to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in under 3 seconds. (my preference for oh-so-thickly peanut buttered peanut butter and jelly sandwiches makes that all the more amazing). But I am not proud of this.

People look upon you in horror, when, less than 8 seconds after the "amen" you've devoured everything on your plate. It's embarrassing when you've eaten everything on you and your date's plate before he's had a chance to come back from the restroom.

I'm going to lay out by the pool now and even though my belly is full, i shall stick it out and it shall never look as big as my preggo friend! I shall sit in the shade to avoid the sun, but will dip dip dip in the pool!

From Refreshments to Girl on Girl....

After smashing my janky-ass, too-expensive-to-be-so-glitchy sidekick phone into about 4 or 5 large pieces on the floor, I purchased a slimmer, simpler, more affordable model. It was a step I’ve been trying to make for nearly half a year-having been dealing with a sick phone that turned itself off constantly, went for hours at a time on the “white screen of death,” and often delivered text messages hours sometimes weeks late. But I knew downsizing meant losing the keyboard.

Ah, the keyboard. That wonderful device that allows my thumbs to type compact poetry at nearly 60 words per minute. I used nearly 400 texts per month, and though I know that doesn’t compare with some social butterflies that easily rack 1000-3000/month, I think of those as 400 mini works of art. The text is a literary joy, a revolutionary new form of communication that suits ME just fine. I don’t need to talk to most of you folks. Really. Its just too much. Give me a leedle keyboard and all yo numbers and I’m happy as a bumblebee.

Well now, its bye-bye keyboard. Now I utilize one of those “dinosaur” phones, the one that slides up to reveal a standard 12 button keypad, where I must plunk plunk plunk my way to an F, I, or L. Trying to make a “#” symbol involves like twenty-something plunk plunk plunkings and it kills me cuz is that more than simply typing N-U-M-B-E-R? (12 plunks, 14 if you include the question mark.) All in all, less texting for me, and trying to restrict my phone time during the day. It sucks, but it sure beats paying too much for a banky phone, even if it did have that keyboard to freedom.

More!

I’ve been to a musical show every night for three nights! Boy I sound like such a party girl right now!! Monday night I saw The Refreshments or known now as Roger Cline and the Peacemakers.

One or two songs in a tree falls a block away cutting power to thousands of Atlantians. The room, packed with a few hundred eager fans, weren’t about to leave just cuz of a little power outage. The mob went on singing the words to the song, right to the very end. The cheering is frenzied cuz its dark as hell, and that was cool as hell. Not cool cool, but like groovy cool. Around the corners of the bar, candles appear in corners, and the bargirls start selling a helluva lot cold beer. The fact is, it’s only gonna get warmer from here, both the beer, and the venue, so you might as well get to drinking it and rockin out. Starting off a song was difficult, as only the front few rows could hear the acoustic lead guitar. So the trumpeter came out with a famous introduction to one of our most beloved songs that begins “Here comes, another song about Mexico.” Everyone, including myself, knew every word, and we sang loudly as the temperature rose. Soon everyone was wet as hell, everyone’s clothes clung drenched to all types of body parts. By the looks of it, (and you could see, because I suppose someone from the kitchen grabbed a potato, and had hooked one desk lamp up to it, and set it up behind the drummer, providing the only light in the whole damn place, aside from the candles and one guy with a flash light in the back that kept it right on the lead singer’s face), anyways, by the looks of it, everyone was having a good time. No body left, the bar was doing great business, and if there WAS any grumbles, it dissipated by the time the popsicles arrived. Not enough for the slow, but enough to almost drown out the lead singers un plugged acoustical guitar with the sounds of scores of people crinckling and discarding their wrappers.

I suppose they also went to the grocery store for potatoes, cuz a few more songs in the lead singers guitar kicked into life, and with a sweatier then ever renewed and refreshed sense of determination, the crowd sang and grooved on. A miracle of spuds may have happened after that, because then the bass thumped on amp juice, and so did the electric guitar. For several blissful songs we had the entire band juiced up on miracle power, lit even by a few stage lights, singing a seemingly endless supply of know-the-words- classics. The electricity failed again though, and they recovered the use of their instruments several times against the fickle power gods. Everyone wanted the song Mekong, and it was delayed several times in hopes that everything would kick on again, but it didn’t seem to be happening. We were back in “we-can’t-hear-or-see-shit-mode”, when finally the guitarist started strumming the opening chords to Mekong. The power of the crowd, getting set to enjoy a favorite song in a chaotic but ridiculously wonderful environment, willed up one great undeniable surge or energy, when all at once we heard clear as crystal the strumming of our lead man’s acoustic. The next riff was to be played by an absent lead guitarist, who had figured it futile to play another song perhaps, since no one could hear him. He came out after being summoned by name by a wet and wild audience. Soon they were all out playing, the crowd sang with all the love of pilgrims words they had memorized ages ago. The show was awesome, the band fucked off. And we went downstairs to find the electricity had suddenly reappeared. A/C kicked in, and we mingled under cold vents as people got rides in taxies, and got rides from strangers, and got rides from wet, nasty, friends. The lead guitarist was talking to people, and invited me and a few friends into the Atlanta Room, where he played informally for about 20 people. We found ourselves in a blissfully frigid room enjoying our own private encore, all the while making requests for Johnny cash, Tom Waits, and others. After that, the band/groupies/whoever, was loading equipment from the stage upstairs to the tour bus. I talked to the guitarist a little more. Explained to him that I had given my first BJ to the song “banditos,” and he laughed and we went back in the bus and I gave him a blow job. Just kidding, that didn’t happen. I mean, I DID give my first BJ listening to the refreshments at the tender age of 15, and I DID tell him so, but no, I didn’t do all the rest of that stuff.

Tuesday, it was back to the same venue for a highly different experience. The place was mercifully air conditioned, first of all. Five different bands played only a few songs each, and Comcast on Demand was there filming it. My friend played upright bass for Atomic Boogie, and they really got the crowd moving. My butt just lost control and started a shimmyin and a shakin….woo! Methinks the camera stopped for a while on me, as someone was shining a bright light in my face as I bopped along. It wasn’t as crowded, but the place was still fullish with interesting looking people: rockabilly girls, punks, and hard death metal looking folks. Was really fun going back stage and seeing what its like back there. But I called it an early night once my friend’s band was done…the band after was NOT my cup of tea, sounding like alternative heavy metal…ick.

Wednesday my friend, a very young and gifted saxophonist, played at Centennial Olympic Park. Oooooh snap! It was groooovY!! It was some damn good jazz going on and the crowd was lovin it. My friend jams on his saxophone with the know-how and style of someone twice his age. Cries of “go White Boy go!” could be heard through out the predominantly black audience. I felt really lucky to know this kid. Walking around with him between sets was like walking around with a celebrity. People kept shaking his hand, introducing themselves, praising him. He loved it. I know I did! I’ll post some of that jazz on youtube soon!

I watched Even Cowgirls Get the Blues and it was so so good. The book was infinatly better, as always, but the director did a great job of adapting the screenplay to get the wacky feel of the book. Unfortuatly, much of the dialog sounded merely like memorization of narrative, which it was, and only the Chink did a good job of making it sound spontaneous. The girl on girl action was hot. Can’t top that.

Let’s end with girl on girl action. Bye people…

maybe we've reached the point where life stops giving us things and starts taking them away

The above, a quote from Indiana Jones, the newest movie that i saw last week. It was pretty good, all things considered. My attention, unlimited despite its unbelievability (did you really expect to believe ANYthing in any of those movies anyways??) stayed during the 2 solid (and i mean SOLID) hours of the film.

Not that I'm some movie critic or anything, but all in all the film stayed true to its roots while pushing the envelope on our historically advanced but consistently similar set of expectations. It has more surprises and plot twists than the average action film, and its plot was an intricate set of assumptions that aroused curiosity-and had a few too many loose ends and random coincidences to take very seriously. SPOILERS COMING. The triple agent status of Indy's best friend could be called since the opening scene, his character was weak, underdeveloped and given an unfortuante side swipe. The Plot really revolved around Mary-and his reconciliation with his son.

Mary was a happy surprise in film score, of course her name didn't arouse any familiarity. Yet when she showed up in the film I had to smile. It was nostalgic and kinda beautiful seeing the couple aged 30 years, going at it again. They had chemistry and there was silliness, but i think Mary betrayed her adoration for Indy too much too soon. On to Indy's son

His character was kinda sweet, but a little played out. Acting seemed a little forced. He brought a lot of humor to the film, and some good old 50's feelin. Across the board there was some good one liners, but also a lot of long plot progression scenes that I think I would tire of during a second viewing.

Anyways, enough with that. I'm thirty and damn near dehydrated. Its so hot in Atlanta that the radio predicted for the week...literally...and i quote....'HOT HOT HOT' ...thats for tuesday, wednesday, and thursday of this week. and today is hump day. For some of you idiots. For me, it happens to be a day off. Its hot and i swathe some lose hanging cloth from neck to knee, don some flat foot black leather knee high boots (don't ever doubt me masochistic)...and entered the world of sweltering sweat staining your back folds with dark wetness. A car so nasty sticky humid the beads just pop out along the wrinkles of your forehead. And do you know that if you don't have wrinkles on your forehead, the actual forehead itself will droop visibly a centimeter or more sometimes from the drenching of millions of tiny pores who being concave can never grip life preservers? I went to a "work function" which for me sounds glamorous, but really isn't.

I sat at tables with my "team" and we were educated and quizzed on the consistency, production and presentation of our product. Whole thing was turned into a fun quiz show like thing, we were fed fall-off-the-bone ribs, veggie burgers, smoked salmon, veggie dips-of the cheesiest variety, leaves, bread-oh and my team won and we got a bottle of champagne on the house and we and a few of the gals went to the patio and drank it. And ordered more, not on the house. and drank them slowly as the hump day long dog day hot ass afternoon faded behind the strip mall and sky rise apartment building that looms on the western horizon of our glass workplace. The mosquitoes didn't bother us much, with is excellent because they've been fucking vicious lately. They eat irish girls like we're some kinda mosquito delicacy. Anyways the afternoon was pleasant as can be, even if i did spend it at work.

I've been yearning to come back to the keyboard. I just posted the latest vid on da toob. I'll try to figure out how to post it so you can see it...



did that work?

anyways. Peas. Is anyone here from the tube?

Happy Frekkin Fourth

How am i celebrating the bursting dawn of our country? Work.

work, frekkin work. Tommrrow, on the fourth of july, I'll be working a double, from 9:30am to midnight. Then I catch a few hours of sleep, and do another double Saturday. yey for me.

Its not like its going to be busy on Independence Day. oh no, the hours will drag by in mind-numbing monotony. The money will trickle in so as to mock me..."muhaha, you made 15 dollars from 11am-2. "

but that won't be in. Nay, we MIGHT get a nice dinner pop, but chances are that by 8:30 the restaurant will die. D.I.E die. All the familes and their little tikes will be off looking at fireworks, or cooking at home on the grill.

Its a recession. People arn't eating out as much anymore...And a surprising amount of people think they can go out AS often and just tip less. Bastards. makes me pretty irate, if you can imagine.

Anywhos, this post is a barrel full of laughs, clearly. I'm just a little fustraited at all I still need to do before my trip, plus a few hangups on my citizenship process. I was really hoping that by the 4th of july, i'd be an American Citizen.

yeah, right.

Cheers interblog world.

Croftee

Cos She's gushing alll over

Welcome to the Official Croftee Blogspot.

Why are you here? Whether its help on navigating a difficult world or for reassurance that you arn't the only one who recognizes beauty in the mundane. Whether your confused about life or celebrating your confusion; whether you identify with being Irish, or being an Earthling. Are you interested in Travel? Poetry? Books? Lonelyness and isolationism, as well as love beyond measure for humanity. I'm a fustrated Compassionate, a people-pleaser, a wary seer, and yes, a practicing reverend.

Thanks to Sean Bedlam: he inspired me to make a blog and start this up. go see his blog and then give him some munnee.

more to come...