Replacing Xanax with Ice Cream

Remember a couple of posts back my doctor was concerned that I may be bipolar? Well, if you don't, just pretend you do. I had been taking Xanax for about a year after the neighborhood drunk threatened to kill my dog.

I was up to three pills a day at one point, but then went to two at the time I saw the doctor in April. Then I went down to one (because I was running out of Xanax and was too lazy to get it refilled). For the last two weeks or so, I've been down to none.

I have, however, begun eating ice cream again. I had to stop in 2006 because the dog was on a diet and have YOU ever tried eating ice cream with a dog begging at you and you can't give her any? Drives you mental. It can also be dangerous if the dog really wants the ice cream. And the panic attacks, racing thoughts in the morning and problems concentrating seemed to have subsided. Coincidence?

Yeah, probably, but ice cream is a heck of a lot cheaper than Xanax. I'm not sure which is more addictive, though.

At least I've figured out where to go in the house to sneak the ice cream so the dog doesn't realize I'm eating it.

Of course, looking at Peter Gabriel photos also helps to calm me, so that's why I stuck one up with this post that has absolutely nothing to do with him. Yeah, my mental state is doing MUCH, much better.

Peter Gabriel Covers Tom Waits for Daughter's Charity

Like father, like daughter. Peter Gabriel helped to found two human rights cahritess, Witness and The Elders, and now Peter's oldest child, Anna Marie Gabriel, has helped to found a human rights charity called The Voice Project. I have read many times about what the Voice Project is suppossed to accomplish and I still can't understand a damn word. So, rather than misinterpert the charity's aims, please click on the links provided and get it straight from the horse's mouth.

This remarkable piece of film was shot by Anna Marie Gabriel in London, but it is unknown who's house or hotel this was. The song is "In the Neighborhood" written by the legendary actor-songwriter Tom Waits. Over on the PG Forums, fans have remarked at how PG takes years to make albums and yet bangs out his gem in about five minutes. Enjoy.

Sometimes Lucid Dreams Suck

NOTE: I consider the PG I dream about to be a different fellow from the real Peter Gabriel (the one I usually mention in this blog.)

I love lucid dreams, especially those with Peter Gabriel in them. Well, usually. There are times I wish he wouldn't show up. This morning was one of those times. I've cut down my Xanax to just one pill a day, so perhaps I can blame the dreams on Xanax withdrawal and not my sick psyche.

Yeah, right.

I had a series of nightmares and most of them were alike. In one, I had to clean a particularly messy bathroom and finally could take a break. Then three children robbed me of my Almond Joy candy bar. Quite annoying.

I then had a series of repetitive dreams. I was in a huge home with a stream running under it. It was filled with lots of valuable little artwork and suddenly all of these richly-dressed people with their glasses of wine and pearl necklaces and black satin suits swarmed the place and took off with everything.

I went mental. I was trying to get my stuff back. I remember fighting disgracefully and even setting one man on fire. I took one young woman's manicured hand and slammed it down on a tabletop just so the nails would break off. Then the entire house caught fire and we all had to run for it.

Then I suddenly realized that I was dreaming. Perhaps it was because I couldn't remember how I'd gotten such a large home or why there was a stream flowing underneath of it and where did all of this artwork come from?

So I had been fighting all of these people and inflicting pain all over nothing. Lucid dreams are rare things, and here I'd wasted my chance because I was too angry to realize that it was all a dream. Someone called out to me, "Would serve you right if Peter saw what you did."

"Peter wouldn't show up here," I snapped. "I mean nothing to him."

And the entire dream fell away like a series of thin curtains being hurled aside and when they were gone Peter was glaring at me, looking like in the image to the left. Only he didn't look angry. He looked sick with disappointment. I would've preferred the angry look.

He began to speak softly and eventually I had to just read his lips.

"You know," he said, "I'm beginning to think you're a lost cause."

I suddenly snapped awake. My head, back and guts ached. There was a numb spot between my shoulder blades.

Epilogue

It was only two in the morning so I thought I'd better get back to sleep. The most lucid dreams happen in the last four hours of sleep. I wanted to show that I wasn't a lost cause.

I was in a schoolroom, but I was the oldest and tallest student there. I could see people walking about but everyone else said that they weren't there. When I described them to my teachers, they were quite upset because I was describing dead teachers that they knew.

I had to make a speech in front of the class. The suddenly I thought -- why am I the only kid that is so tall and old? The teachers left the room. Then I remembered.

Everyone was looking at me because I had stopped talking. "My name is Rena Sherwood," I said, "and I'm having a lucid dream."

The kids in the front of the room looked shocked, but a few kids in the very back applauded. "Finally!" one said, smiling.

I said, "At this point, I'm supposed to ask where Peter Gabriel is." (This is a mental trick in order to not suddenly snap awake.)

"He's right outside." They pointed to their left out of the windows.

And there was Peter in a chocolate brown suit jacket and tie, looking like in the previous dream. All of the kids knew who he was and excitedly pressed against the windows, sticking their arms out to touch him. Peter laughed and shook their hands. I stood back, remembering how disgracefully I'd acted the last time we met.

A gap opened up with the kids and Peter looked directly at me through the window. He slowly smiled like a snake uncurling, inhaled and opened his mouth to speak.

It was then I snapped awake.

Peter Gabriel at Work 11 June 2010

Peter Gabriel is hard at work at Air Studios in the UK recording orchestral versions of his own songs. Some songs have premiered during the New Blood tour earlier this year, but so far, two more have added to the mix. Today's work was on "Intruder", "The Drop" and "Father Son." Already given basic recordings (before the studio digital tweaking) have been "Digging in the Dirt," "Downside Up", "Rhythm of the Heat" and "Blood of Eden."

Peter Gabriel's Twitter page, Itspetergabriel (which had to go with that because "Peter Gabriel" had already been taken) describe PG doing "impromptu" vocals on "Father Son", originally released on the album Ovo (1999.)

Meanwhile, work on my book about dreams, "The Dream Peter Prject" has been shelved so I can concentrate on paying for seeing this incredible tour for a third time and keep paying the usual bills.

Well, I'm lying. That's not the only reason I'm taking a break from it. In order to best describe the impact dreams can have on a person's waking life, I included some autobiographical material. Looking back on my life has been surprisingly difficult to do. It has given me some articles like "How the UK's NHS Saved This American's Life", which brings in a few pennies a month, but looking back has been really gut-wrenching. I know I'm lucky to be alive, but it sure doesn't feel that way, especially at night.

Anyway, I'll feel better the closer the concert date approaches ... and, hopefully, the release date of this album currently being recorded.

Last 2 Surviving Pix of Me & PG in 1996

Ok, bear with me, folks. Out of oodles of photos from my 1996 trip to Real World studios, Box village and meeting Peter Gabriel, just 4 remain, due to the wrath of my ex-boyfriends. However, my Mom (Vatican -- make her a saint already!) managed to save 4 (and the 4 are in poor shape, but at least they're in one piece.) I already posted two of them in March, 2010. Since I let my Photobucket account lapse (oops), Blogger is the only place I can post photos online for free.

I'll try to do a more proper post next time.

Do I Have Manic Depression?

My general practitioner, a title once known as "a doctor", thinks I may have been been misdiagnosed. In England, while homeless, I was officially diagnosed as having "endogenous recurring depression." My GP thinks I may have crossed that albeit ever so slim line over to manic depression (now called bipolar disorder or bipolarity.) One of the most famous still living people with bipolarity is Stephen Fry (pictured.)

Who, Me?

I was shaken to hear that. I knew I was mentally ill, but at least I wasn't THAT mentally ill. I took a very small comfort in that, as if holding on to a teeny tiny security blanket. After all, I'd been homeless and met many, many bipolar people -- some going through full-blown mania where they'd be so convinced they could fly that they'd climb up on rooftops.

I was never like that. Me, well, the first thing I think of when I wake up is, "Oh, shit. Not again." People with manic episodes don't sleep because they feel too good to sleep. I wouldn't mind a bit of that type of mania. Just a bit.

But, said my GP, there are many degrees of manic depression and not just the "common" episodes of manic and then depressive cycles. Which, of course, has now started a little voice in my head saying, "You have a BRAND NEW mental illness THAT THEY'LL NAME AFTER YOU."

Desperately Seeking Symptoms

As a freelance web content writer, I get asked to write about many, many medical conditions. You know how it is -- you read a couple of newspaper articles on a certain newly discovered disease and suddenly you're convinced you have it.

I've written about prostate cancer so much that I start checking for symptoms every time I urinate. And then I have to remind myself that I don't have a prostate. Not that that keeps me from checking for symptoms the NEXT time I have to spend a penny. Just my luck I'll be the only woman in the world that spontaneously grows a prostate just so it could get cancer.

Anyway...

So now I've been having hyperactive, racing thoughts and anxiety every morning. Is this mania? I take a Xanax and calm down enough to do some work. Come to think of it, I think I've had these thoughts a couple of hours after I wake up every damn day, but it's only just now I've become REALLY AWARE of it. I get my work done and it's a job I adore. I take care of my pets and my saint of a mother and have enough to eat. I've survived homelessness, domestic abuse and trans-Atlantic airplane rides. I should be proud of myself.

But by the time I have to go to bed, I think, "I am nothing but a complete and total cunt." Pardon for the lingo, but that is what goes through my head. There are many reasons why I believe this, but the main reason is because if I'm not good enough for Peter Gabriel, then what's the point? There's more to it than that, but I'll spare you the tedious details. (You're welcome.)

I've had these thoughts even before I suffered homelessness and domestic abuse, although those experiences turned the volume up a couple of notches. I then take another Xanax, a melotonin and sometimes a Nyquil in order to get some sleep.

So, am I bipolar? Or am I turning into a Xanax addict? I don't know and I can't afford to think about it anymore because I have to get back to work to pay for a trip to Leipzig to see Peter Gabriel in concert. That will at least make future blog posts far more amusing than this one.

Going to Peter Gabriel Concert in Leipzig

(Photo taken at Radio City Music Hall soundcheck by Zenrider)

At the beginning of 2010, I had a bit of savings tucked away in order to get a new computer. As all followers of this blog (both of you) know, Peter Gabriel then decided to tour in a most unusual way -- with a 50-piece orchestra. Because this tour was originally for Europe only, I dipped into the savings for a trip to Berlin.

Then, a day after I booked the non-refundable airplane ticket, PG announced that there would be North American tour dates. Fortunately, one was in New York City, which I could get to by train. However, I discovered that New York City is a lot more expensive than Berlin.

But two times for such a magnificent show are not enough, especially since plans to record the show in the US for a DVD failed to materialize due to production costs. I've been going through crushing PG tour withdrawal symptoms since coming back from New York City.

Now, PG is 60 and I'm 40 (I was born in November of 1969, so I'm only 19 years his junior, not 20.) He has two young sons (as well as two grown daughters) and two young human-rights charities, Witness and The Elders. The odds of him touring again are really slim.

This was my reasoning as I bought a ticket to Leipzig, Germany (where Bach lived) for a gig on 14 September, thereby wiping out my savings.

My doctor thinks I may not just have endogenous recurring depression, but borderline manic depression. I wonder why he thinks that?

New Blood Tour, Pt 2 Dates Announced

(PG photo taken from Radio City Music Hall gig by Zenrider.)

You only live once! If you haven't seen Peter Gabriel and the New Blood orchestra, you still have a few chances left in September and October, 2010. Only catch -- all of the gigs are in Europe.

- 12.09.2010 : AVENCHES / Switzerland

- 14.09.2010 : LEIPZIG / Germany

- 16.09.2010 : BRUSSELS / Belgium

- 17.09.2010 : ARNHEIM / Netherlands

- 19.09.2010 : AMNEVILLE / France

- 22.09.2010 : MADRID / Spain

- 23.09.2010 : BARCELONA / Spain

- 30.09.2010 : MANNHEIM / Germany

- 02.10.2010 : KOELN / Germany

- 03.10.2010 : HAMBURG / Germany

PG's hard working crew are also trying to get a date for Verona, Italy, finalized and perhaps once for Zurich.

I have a reason for living again! Suddenly, the sky is bluer, food tastes better and my writer's block has completely crumbled to dust. I also won't have any urge to go shopping on Amazon.com or eBay for a loooooooooooonnnnnnnnnng time.

Now, I just have to figure out which show I'll go to.

Half Birthday with Peter Gabriel Pictures

Today's my half-birthday. The weather is celebrating with ice-cold, wind-whipped rain as if it was November 18. I've been pitiful recently, so I cheered myself up by re-entering the world of eBay. I left eBay in May of 2000, back when it eBay was REALLY eBay and not an actual, respectable company that it is today. I just assumed I was banned because I was a seller and let a couple of auctions expire unintentionally before I ran off to England.

I subsequently lost most of my Peter Gabriel collection, except for some random bits my Mom saved. I've had my PG CDs and tapes stolen or destroyed by an angry Peter-substitute boyfriend so many times that I'm now wary of getting all of the CDs replaced.

But Mom did save two photo albums filled with photos and magazine clippings about Peter. I like photos of PG, 'cause it's not like I have a shot with the real thing, is it?. Photos of him pleases me. I like the way he moves through the air. When I came back from the UK and went online again, I discovered that there were thousands of free downloadable PG images online. I had about 300 - 400 before my hard drive crashed. My Mom is convinced that it was the PG JPEG collection that did in the hard drive.

I prefer candid photos of him rather than professional shots or concert snaps, but at this point I'll take anything I can get. So, I went on eBay and bought several photographs of PG, inlcuding a better version of the image next to this post.

At least my photo albums won't crash like a PC hard drive.

Well, I better get back to work to pay for all of my future eBay misadventures.

New Book Idea: Dream Peter Project

A few posts ago I wrote about how I would tackle writing a biography of Peter Gabriel. I've had to officially scrap the idea because a biography of PG came out in France in 2008 -- which means that it's too soon for anyone to write a new bio of him. Anyway, since the traditional publishing industry is dead, I'd have to self publish the damn thing and that would cost me at least $10,000. So, screw that.

Then my hard drive crashed and I spent 8 days offline. Now, birds gotta fly and fish gotta swim and writers gotta write. So I went at it with a pen and paper, like in the old days when I actually had the stupidity to think that anything I could write would ever be read by Peter Gabriel.

I've been dreaming about Peter since I was 16 (and now I'm 40.) I consider Dream Peter and PG to be two separate beings. I've learned a lot about dreams, lucid dreams and working with dreams in all of these years. I believe that when we die, we slip into a dream state and never wake back up. So, in the end, all we are are our dreams.

I've been spending time writing a book about Dream Peter, who visits me in all kinds of guises, including this image I found online from the website of clothing store Jhanes Barnes. Will this book ever be published? Probably not. Will I make any money off of it? Not a snowball's chance. And yet I'm writing it anyway.

There are those two voices that talk to writers when they write. One says, "This book is really going to help someone. Keep at it." The other says, "This book is only a pathetic plea to get attention. Why bother? It's not like Peter is ever going to read it!"

Guess which voice is talking to me now?

Hard Drive Crash & New York Psychic

My apologies to any clients that have been trying to get a hold of me since 5/6. My hard drive crashed and could not be resurrected. I'm now starting over from scratch, reinstalling all of my software. I also lost all of my Peter Gabriel images (and I had about 400), so no image to accompany this post.

It's been a strange week offline. I was so driven to write that I resorted to pen and paper, believe it or not. I went through two pens. If I didn't get the computer back up soon, I was going to have to start scraping marks on wet clay tablets.

What About the Psychic?

Oh, yeah. While I was in New York City to see Peter Gabriel, I had to walk from SoHo to Manhattan. On the way, I came across many street vendors, including Lyn the Psychic. I thought, "Oh, what the hell," and had my first reading in donkey's years.

She first began by praying to the Higher Powers for her to clearly communicate what needed to be said for my greatest good. She then said, "You're not from around here, are you?"

I guess it was stamped on my forehead, because I got a lot of that when I was in New York. She also asked me why I was in New York city. After I mentioned that I was seeing Peter Gabriel, she said, "You've no shot with Peter Ga--"

"I KNOW THAT ALREADY!"

She also told me, "Do something wit yer hair!" Now, I kind of doubt that the Higher Powers were talking through street vendor Lyn there. I have a feeling that was Lyn talking.

Off the Market

She seemed fascinated by my left palm and said I wouldn't have any problems with money (HA! I quake to see how much this hard drive crash is going to cost me.) She also said that I may move, due to my job, but that I would not be forced out of my home.

Then she said that I tended to isolate myself and needed to see more people and perhaps date.

Whoa. The week before, my Mom's cleaning lady tried to fix me up with a date and I nearly blew a gasket. Mom then sat me down and asked me if I was ever going to date again. "Are you kidding me?" I said, "The last guy put me in the hospital, stole every penny I had and burned my home down. The only reason I went with him was because he looked like Peter Gabriel. And the guy before him was a psycho. I'd have been better off never dating ANYBODY and kept a torch for Peter all of these years."

"You mean you're never going to date again?"

"The only man I'm interested in is Peter -- and he's not interested. So, if I can't have him, I'll have no one."

"Well, I think that's sad."

"Sad? You should be bouncing off of the roof! This way I'll never get beat up again and I'll always be around to take care of you."

No pleasing Moms, sometimes. She hated whatever guy I was with and now she hates that I don't date. Huh???

Anyway, I asked the psychic, "Have you been talking to my Mom?"

Being Alone

Lyn wound up by saying that I should join a YMCA and meet more people, because "it's not good to be alone". I hated to burst her bubble, but loneliness has nothing to do with how many people are in the same room with you. I was lonely when I had boyfriends. I could be in a room of 1000 pairs of eyes looking at me and I'd still be lonely.

Loneliness is something you have to work on inside of yourself and no one can help you do that. You become comfortable with your own company and work on from there.

Besides, I'm not exactly a catch. I'm tall, about 30 pounds overweight, have breasts that have given up all hope and am 40. Believe me, you don't need to be a psychic to see that I have no chance with a man like Peter Gabriel.

Still Recovering from New York Weekend to See Peter Gabriel at Radio City Music Hall

In the next few days, I'll get a proper review of both the soundcheck and show by Peter Gabriel and the New Blood Orchestra at Radio City Music Hall on Sunday, May 2, 2010.

Some highlights:

* The night before, a car bomb was discovered in Times Square, about half a block from Radio City Music Hall. No one was hurt and the bomb was diffused, but it was a sobering shock to the open the weekend with. I had to walk to the hotel on West 32nd street from a Mexican restaurant in Soho (about 5 - 7 miles.) Although Times Square was blocked off by the time I reached it, I can't help but wonder if I'd be typing this now if the bomb had gone off.
* I had a migraine beginning at 7am 5/2 and still had it before the soundcheck. It would return after the adrenalin died down the next day. Adrenalin is a great painkiller, but only for so long.
* It was FREAKIN' HOT! This actually turned into an advantage, getting us into the soundcheck early.
* Lots of differences from the Berlin show of March 24 for both soundcheck and concert. Same T-shirt, though.
* This time, I got to meet PG. Let's say PG treated me to a viewpoint I hadn't seen before any of the other times we met. No -- you all have filthy minds -- his marriage was not put at risk in any way.
* This time, he gave me an autograph as well as an eyeful and a very sweet memory
* In between sets, I got to shake hands with pianist Tom Cawley and have a very brief chat.
* I got to meet many other PG fans, which was just about as nice as meeting PG.
* This photo of PG is the outfit he wore when I met him.

Off to gather my head together!

Experimental Post -- Hold On

Yes, that's a photo of me. It was taken about 2002 on the homeless iste Ilived on for about three years. Now, why is it up here?

Well, I tried changing my avatar at the PG Forums. Why do this? There's a bunch of PG fans meeting the night before and just before Peter Gabriel's concert at Radio City Music Hall 5/2. I thought the easiest way to let the other fans know who to look out for was to change my avatar on the forum.

No such luck. Petergabriel.com did not accept accept my photo. Not only that, but my scanner/printer stopped working. Wow -- I'm uglier than I thought. After giving the scanner/printer a remedy by making it print out a PG image (I kid you not), it began working again.

But now I have to keep this post up in order to keep up the link to my photo for those rare PG fans that want to meet me. Doesn't the Internet makes our lives so much easier?

Latest Lucid PG Dream

Info you need to know before reading about the dream:

1) Mitch was the guy I ran away to England for, he abused me, and I had to return to America in 2005.
2) Dream Peter is similar too, but different from the real Peter Gabriel, who've I've been a fan of since I was 16.
3) Sandy is Dream Peter's boss.
4) Lucid dreaming is when you are aware that you are dreaming. Dream Peter taught me how to do it when I was a teeneager.
5) About 4 years ago, I dreamt of Mitch harassing me, telling me that he was Peter in disguise, and Dream Peter came out of nowhere, gave Mitch a bollicking, then turned to me and said, "I would NEVER do that to you. Now wake up."

So, anyway:

I'm in a hotel room in Bath, UK on a writing assignment. Someone stirs on the bed next to me an I see that it's Mitch, fully clad. I frantically try to remember what just happened and if it's what I suspect, I have to kick him rioght out the door. Mitch stands, lifts a gym bag to his shoulders and is about to leave. I know I only have this chance to tell him how he ruined my life.

But all I can think of to say is, "You really pissed me off."

"I know," he replied. "But isn't it nice to know that, after everything that happened, some good came out of it?" And then he walked out.

Puzzled, I walk out of the hotel and find that the entire city of Bath has disappeared, replaced by gray woods next to the River Avon. Mitch walks in front of me, then turns around and says, "Isn't it funny how we keep bumping into each other?"

Finally, I get it. I'm dreaming! "My name is Rena Sherwood and I'm having a lucid dream, " I say, as I have been taught to (it helps me stay in a lucid state throughout the rest of the dream.)"But I do not want to dream about YOU."

"I know. I'm sorry."

That's not like Mitch. Since this is a dream, anything is possible. "Who are you, really?"

He walks up and whispers in my ear, "I'm Peter," and it's Dream Peter's voice.

"I thought you'd said you'd never appear to me as Mitch!" I whisper back.

"Yeah, I know, but then my boss Sandy saw my little performance and thought it would be a brilliant idea for me to appear to you as Mitch. I refused for as long as I could. But, now, well, here I am," he whispers.

"Why are we whiserping?"

"Although this is a dream, you never know who may be listening in. Now let's get back to the hotel."

Anway, when I woke up, I wondered what Dream Peter meant when he said that some good had come out of my being abused my Mitch, becoming homeless and that whole lot. I wonder if I'll ever find out. It's been about a week or so and I haven't seen Dream Peter since to ask him.

Why I Can't Be in the Same Room as the Dalai Lama

I noticed something interesting while preparing for my trip to New York City for another Peter Gabriel soundcheck and concert. About 20 days after PG plays Radio City Music Hall, His Holiness the Dalai Lama will be appearing for two nights to give two lectures. I briefly flirted with the idea of going to attend one of the HH's lectures, but decided not to.

Part of the reason was due to money. But mostly, it's because I'm too ashamed of myself to be in the same room that he is.

From my research into his life, the Dalai Lama is very tolerant, compassionate and forgiving. He wants to work with the government of the very country that forcefully took over his country rather than just blow China to hell. Me -- I'd skip diplomatic negotiations and try to blow China to hell.

Now, both Tibet and myself have no weapons capable of blowing anything larger than a dust mite to hell, but I don't let that small fact hold back my anger.

I really admire people who genuinely like other people. I have a select few people I adore, a few I would gladly take a bullet for and then there's the other 99.9% of the human population. After hearing them talk for ten minutes, I just want to smack them upside the head with a metal frying pan in order to get them to shut up.

I also find that there are people I can't forgive:

* My abuser
* PG's abusers when he attended Charterhouse as a boy
* That drunk woman that kicked her dog in my street, so I called the police on her and now she's threatened to kill my dog
* Michael Vick
* President Andrew Jackson who destroyed what was left of Native American tribes. Yes, I know he died in 1845, but I still hold a grudge

Now, the Dalai Lama teaches compassion mediation where you first think about being compassionate to your mother (or mother-figure), then your best friend and then your worst enemy. Ideally, you are to feel the same feelings for all three.

Un-uh. Not me. No way.

So, I figure my seat at Radio City Music Hall would be best filled by someone who could actually become compassionate to even her worst enemies. She'd get more out of the Dalai Lama's talks than I would. I'd just be sitting there burning with embarassment.

How a Book Idea Can Be Great and Suck Simultaneously

By now, you've probably gotten the impression that I'm a Peter Gabriel fan. You wouldn't even need to read any blog posts to figure that out -- all of the PG images would give that fact away. I'm also a freelance writer. Lots of things in my life have gone down the crapper, but I'm an excellent writer. I pay my bills -- that's why I can say that I'm an excellent writer. (Lousy speller, but excellent writer.)

That Idea's Great!

Inevitably, the idea dawned on me after I wrote about attending PG's soundcheck in Berlin: Rena, only PG's mother knows more about PG than you do. I probably know things that PG himself would have no clue about. You're the perfect person to write a unique biography of him! I wouldn't even have to interview him (although that would be nice.) PG has granted so many interviews over the years that all a writer needs to do would cull the best from those interviews. And (although most of my PG collection was trashed by my exes) I do have access to other fans that have copies of these interviews.

I'd also like to do a section on fan's impressions of meeting PG. Fans like myself get asked about song meanings a lot, so there also should be a section of the biography devoted to that. Although I have written some silly fan-girl stuff on this blog and on at least two PG forums, I would actually take the project seriously and not just blather on about how great PG is. He certainly can be a bastard -- selfish, forgetful and (sometimes) a liar. But, hey, aren't we all? In fact, I'd like to title it "Legendary Bastard: Reflections of Peter Gabriel Through Many Eyes."

I can make this much different from Spencer Bright's nauseating dissection of PG, from the fascinating "Peter Gabriel: In His Own Words" (Mick St. Michael) and even from the best PG bio done to date by the multi-talented Armando Gallo, titled simply "Peter Gabriel."

Hell, I could even self-publish the bio so PG and his staff would not have to bother with all of the hassle of dealing with a snobby publisher.

That Idea Sucks!

Unfortunately, Armando Gallo has been trying to do a sequel to his PG bio for the last 30 years. Gallo is arguably more qualified to write a PG bio than I am, since he not only is an excellent photographer, but also has been a fan of Genesis since I was in diapers. (Pardon the mental image.)

How dare I think that I could get an "okie-dokie" if Gallo can't?

Quite honestly, if you asked 100 PG fans if they've heard of the name "Armando Gallo", over half will say "yes." But ask the same 100 who Rena Sherwood is and they'll say, "Who the f*** is that?"

Besides, PG's staff probably would see me as someone who just wants to get into PG's pants. So, do I risk sending a book proposal to PG's staff and risk being laughed at or (worse) completely ignored or do I just forget the whole thing?

Off to bang my head against the wall until numbness sets in.

Do Yourself a Favor -- Never Google Old Lovers

I guess because it's Easter it gave me the idea to look into the dead parts of my nefarious past. Quite frankly, I live in fear that my UK ex, who used to beat the crap out of me, will show up at my door. However, that would take effort. After moving from the UK on 13 September 2005 there has been no sign of my abuser. (WHEW!)

Since I returned to America I've had nightmares about meeting the American boyfriend I walked out on in order to shack up with the monstrous Peter Gabriel substitute. (Well, I used all my lovers as PG substitutes. Fat lot of good that did.) The American boyfriend probably wishes I was dead and he has every right to. Tell you the truth, there are many times I wish I was dead. Anyway, I thought I'd face this fear.

Facing your fears is highly overrated.

Anyway, I Googled the American boyfriend's name, hoping I'd find it listed under "Obituaries." Either that or find a photo of how badly he'd aged so I could sigh in relief, "Wow. Dodged that bullet."

No such luck. He's on Facebook. Looking at his picture (and that of his overweight gal pal) was reminiscent of discovering roadkill. Last I heard, he'd moved to his home town, but now has moved back to the town where the two of lived oh so many years ago. At least I know which town to stay far, far away from.

So, let this be a lesson to you. If you ever think of Googling old flames -- don't. You'll wind up with nausea to knock over an elephant.

In order to calm me down, there's a nice photo of PG to pair with this post. This is also for the people who come to this blog just for PG news and not Rena Sherwood news. (Hey -- I've no problem with that.)

Off to cancel my Facebook account.

Five Random Peter Gabriel Pictures from My Collection

And the PG worship continues.

Currently, I'm hard at work on various projects, but am taking a break to post a couple of gems from my PG photo collection because a couple of folks over at the PG Forums wanted to see them. Blogger was the most convenient place for me to do so.

Anyway, the dork in the flowery jacket talking to PG is me. Gee, no wonder he didn't fall for me, huh?

First Impressions: Peter Gabriel at O2 Berlin 3/24/10

I'm getting a review of the show (and soundcheck) for a client, but some fans may like to see some of my notes. These are interpeted from frantically scribbled notes on the back of my WOMADshop reciept when my hands stopped shaking.

* First PG concert I've ever been to where he needed to bring a bottle of cough syrup onstage. But if I hadnlt seen the bottle, I would never have known his throat was sore.
* PG wore a loose back ensemble embroidered with barely detectable paisley designs.
* PG had problems with his earpiece, which suddenly popped out of his left ear at least one time. Twice he yanked the earpiece out himself.
* Did lewd hand gesture to me during "Darkness" (probably not to me specifically, but there were only about four women in the front row.) Still. I'm overjoyed!
* Minor feedback problems, but none were distracting.
* The light show and animation was lost on me, since I sat in the front row. But the audience reaction indicated it was a big hit.

The person sitting behind me filmed "Book of Love." That's my big fat head in the way (blush.) If you ever happen to be at a PG concert and see me, just ask me to scrunch down so I don't block the shot.

Ten Reasons Why Peter Gabriel's New Blood Tour Is Better Than Sex

1) Doesn't leave the toilet seat up.
2) Much, much bigger than expected.
3) No discovering that the PG New Blood Tour has gone through your wallet while you were sleeping.
4) No awkward meetings with any PG New Blood Tour family members.
5) No prophylactics necessary.
6) Dancing optional.
7) No need to feel bad if you say the wrong words at the wrong time, 'cause PG does it all of the time.
8) Your timing is never off because of Ben Foster's conducting.
9) The PG New Blood Tour never wants to have a heavy discussion during the best parts of "Star Trek."
10) Lasts longer than ten minutes.

PG New Blood Tour Live from Berlin

It was like really good sex, only less messy. I#m so happy I could fly.

PG seemed intensley worried all throughout the set list, but did laugh on several occassions. Ben Foster, the conductor, teased PG mercilessly at times in the good English tradition. I#ve never seen a PG concert where PG had to drink a bottle of cough syrup before.

I found out that there was a bad technical glitch at Paris 22 march. All the mikes and sound wnet out. PG calmed the crowd by shouting the lyrics to Father, Son at the top of his lungs to placate the restless crowd.

So, he went on with the show even though he had a sore throat. But if he can sing like that with a sore throat, he is one lucky bastard.

PG also had problms with his earpiece. It popped out of his ear a couple of times. Twice during the show he yanked it out.

I´d type more, but I clapped so hard that I have big blue bruises and a blister on my right hand. Never let it be said that a PG concert isn't dangerous!

Coming to you live from Berlin Intercafe 2004 on Gleimstraße. Vielen dank!

Peter Gabriel's New Blood Tour Kicks Off Successfully

Even fans prepared to be stunned were happily suprised to be stunned, according to reports on the PG Forums at Petergabriel.com. The only disappointment was that Peter wore clothes. At the left is a picture from the show put up by Peter's Official Twitter Page.

This is my last post before getting on the plane to Berlin to see PG at the O2. I've decided to not take a camera for two reasons:

1) It makes me look like a tourist and would attract theives
2) I don't own a camera (because if I bought things like cameras, I couldn't afford to drop everything and fly to Berlin to see Peter.)

I've been working like mad in order to help pay for all of this, and now have just over 26 hours to pack. AHHHHetc.

My Peter Gabriel Picture Collection

I know I'll never have a shot with PG (becuase there's no God, remember?) but I'm certainly having a fine old time with my PG picture collection. I do have two small photo albums with newspaper clippings, postcards and actual photos on actual film of PG, but they now pale in signifigance to my digital collection.

I really hope I do nothing that warrants police breaking open my hard drive, or I'll have a heck of a time explaining why there are um...let's see...oh...350 images of Peter Gabriel on my computer. I added another 25 or so tonight because Eva (hi, Eva!) put a huge chunk of her collection up on Genesis Community on Ning. That's where the ones at the left come from. Just my luck, I'll not allowed be into Germany because somehow the Border Patrol found out I have a thing for looking at Peter Gabriel.

I just like looking at PG pictures every now and then over the last 23 and a half years. And occassionally fiddling with them on Paint. That's all. Swear to God.

Preparing for Peter Gabriel Concert in Berlin

The tickets arrived. The instructions for getting into the soundcheck arrived. My Mom's picked out a concert outfit for me. I've booked the hotel. My sneakers gave out, so I had to buy new shoes. We're selecting a dog-walker for Pony. I'm having frequent nightmares about not being allowed into Germany. I'm now on two Xanax pills a day.

I thought I was crazy traveling from Philadelphia to Berlin to see Peter, but apparently there is a fan from Chicago that's flying to London to see him. That means she has to deal with both O'Hare and Heathrow airports. Maybe she'll be lucky and use Gatwick instead. I love Peter, but I'm I'd only go through both Chicago and London if I was guaranteed to sleep with him (sex need not be involved.)

By the way, next week my brother and his family are coming from Vancouver. I'll be meeting my two nieces for the first time.

I'd like to make the rest of this post insightful and coherent, but who am I kidding? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Happy 60th, Peter Gabriel

Ah, yes, that time of year again when we all sing Peter Gabriel caroles, decorate a Zorb and be nice to monkeys (shock only in the metaphorical sense, please).

OK, I jest, but I received notice from WOMADShop that my tickets to Berlin have been put in the post. Cause enough for celebration!

This is "Growing Up", which will probably not be a part of the New Blood tour but appropriate for the day:

Ticket Gain = Dream Loss

I've been dreaming about Peter Gabriel since I was 16 (and now I'm, uh, older than 16.) Over the years, Dream Peter has turned into a unique and unpredictable character He also gave me some valuable tips on lucid dreaming. One tip is that when I realize I'm dreaming, I'm to say my name aloud and then ask where Peter is. The other characters in the dream can usually point me towards him.

But now he seems to have a streak of jealousy. Now that I'm going to see the real Peter in Berlin and New York, Dream Peter is refusing to appear in my dreams.

Typical. He may not live in the physical realm but still retains all of the male's powers to be annoying.

Anyway, I now have a new gig as the Philadelphia Tea Examiner on Examiner.com. I'm still trying to figure out how I can work Peter Gabriel into that blog without getting fired.

Peter Gabirel Now on Twitter

Although there are about 1500 people claiming to be Peter Gabriel on Twitter, one is from the real guy, or at least, from Real World Studios. Granted, it may not be PG himself that does the typing, but his pubicists are the next best thing. The funny thing is that Peter Gabriel could not use that as his user name on Twitter, becasue it had already been taken. So, now Itspetergabriel.

As a freelance writer, I've been urged several times by my clients and from other freelance writers to get a Twitter account. I've held off (holy cow -- isn't a blog enough in this word anymore?) but now that Peter's gone and gotten one, I have, too at Renasherwood. (All of the good user names, like Peter Gabriel, had already been taken.) Unlike MySpace of Facebook, Twitter doesn't crash my 10 year old computer.

The avatar I've chosen is "Killer Chihuahua" taken by David Shankbone and is up at Wikimedia Commons. Trust me - this dog is much better looking than myself. Off to discover the joy of micro-blogging.

Peter Gabriel North American New Blood Tour 2010

Just my luck. In the last post, I talked abut spluriging for a trip to Berlin in order to see Peter Gabriel perform with semi-full chamber orchestra. A day after buy my non-refundable airplane tickets, Peter announces a tour of North America. Boy, is my family laughing. So far, there are only four dates, but note the big date gaps. PG tours have added shows less than a month before the show date in the past, so I wouldn't put it past him to do it again.

The tour so far:

* April 28 Montreal Bell Centre
* May 2 New York Radio City Music Hall
* May 3 New York Radio City Music Hall
* May 7 Los Angeles Hollywood Bowl

As far as I know, tickets are not officially on sale yet. Hmmm... I've never been to New York City ... Anyway, here's a taste -- Peter's cover of David Bowie's "Heroes". I'd never been able to understand the lyrics before Peter sang it.

Peter Gabriel "New Blood" 24 March Berlin O2

I know I previously mentioned Peter's mini-European "New Blood" tour, but I'm repeating myself here for a reason.

I'm going.

I saw that a second show for the Berlin O2 Arena had been added. Peter's studio, Real World, was offering bundle tickets which included:

! A ticket to the show
! A ticket to the soundcheck (two concerts in one day)
! An "event access laminate" (which I think is a fancy way of saying "backstage pass")
! A T-shirt
! A copy of Peter's new CD, "Scratch My Back"

I thought, "Hmmm, wouldn't it be great if I could go?" Then I smacked myself in the head when I realized:

1) I'm 40 years old and don't need anyone's permission to go to Berlin
2) I'm self-employed
3) I have the money
4) I have an up to date passport
5) I need a new T-shirt

Now, there still could be problems that prevent me from going. Germany could invade Poland. I could drop dead. The tickets could spontaneously combust. But I have to blog about this or my head will explode. There. Now I can get back to work writing about Toshiba laptops, treatments for clinical depression and chronic kidney failure in dogs.

The really fun thing is that after years of taking German classes in High School and college, all my knowledge of this language has boiled down to one sentence:

"Der Bleistift ist gelb."

(The pencil is yellow.)

Oh, that will come in handy.

Took the Veg Pledge

Mom and I went grocery shopping today and we stopped by the poultry department. We stared at the corpses and at each other. She asked me what was wrong. I told her I suddenly saw the necks of the chickens come up and begin to scream. We came home and I took the 30 day Veg Pledge (although I intend to be vegetarian for the rest of my life now, unles I become homeless again.)

I'd already stopped eating beef because it was getting me sick. I don't mean that in the colloquial sense -- I mean it was making me throw up and get the runs. I stopped eating pork for the same reason. (Although for some unknown reason, UK pork did not get me sick. What do they do in the UK that the US doesn't?)

When I was homeless, I didn't have the choice about whether to be a vegetarian or not. You ate whatever you could get a hold of, usually from dumpster diving. But now I make enough money that I do have a choice and I can't logically say I love animals and yet still eat them. I can't logically want to stop climate change and support livestock farming, which is responsible for producing more greenhouse gas than all of the vehicles on Earth combined.

Granted, not a very funny post today. I'll try to get back on form later. I'm now off to my old post Let's Stop Horse Racing Now and deal with some of the jokers who responded.

Happy New Year.

Getting Crowded in Hell: Oral Roberts (1918 - 2009)

Thank God Oral Roberts is dead. However, God was about 90 years too late in removing this number one crackpot. Oral Roberts is the asshole who started the whole televangelist/faith healing freak show. He also started Oral Roberts University, featuring a sculpture of a pair of praying hands. (See how humble he was? Wouldn't Jesus be proud? Certainly Jesus would want to raise millions of dollars and then not have to pay taxes on it because it's for religion. Heaven forbid any of that money actually go to programs like welfare, food banks, animal shelters or anything like that.)

By not paying taxes and by having these obscene megachurches and so-called "Christian education", televangelists and their ilk steal money from all of us in order to laugh all the way to the bank. They have no other purpose in life.

If God was really all-powerful, why is He always short of cash? Why does He need megachurches? If He was all-loving, he would never have allowed televangelists to get on TV and he never would allowed Oral's parent to name him Oral. Maybe that's why he became a preacher -- to get back at God for letting his parents give him a name that probably got him beat up daily in school.

In case anyone is appalled that I hope Oral Roberts is burning in Hell, take a deep breath. I don't believe in Hell. I'm not petty enough for that. I'm also not stupid enough to beleive in an all-powerful, all-loving God, but that's another post.

Let's end with words from the dearly departed, shall we?

Christmas Really Sucks

It's that time of year again where we all act completely opposite to what Christmas was originally about -- taking the place of the midwinter Pagan festivals. This time of year was originally about the Sun and not the Son.

But anyway...

If I hear "Holly Jolly Christmas" one more time, I think I'm going to have to puncture my eardrums with a sharpened candy cane.

If you really want to get cynical about Christmas, I highly recommend the following:

* Working in retail for over 10 years
* Becoming homeless at this time of year (which is actually less painful than working retail during the holiday season. Sadly, I speak from experience.)

Or, you could do what my body did and come down with a sinus and ear infection. Ah, nothing could get you more in the holiday spirit than hearing your doctor say, "I see mucus in your ears." I guess that's proof I'm allergic to Christmas muzac.

I recommend this song as the new "Holly Jolly Christmas" by Jay Brannan.

Peter Gabriel Mini-Tour: New Blood

Peter's official website has confirmed that he will be doing a mini-tour to promote his new album of cover songs, "Scratch My Back" around February - April 2010. So far, the only dates released are for London, Paris and Berlin and then back in London. Peter usually chooses the name of the tour based on some sort of in-joke and this one is no exception -- it's called New Blood (based on the cover image of the new album -- two blood cells).

He will be performing with full orchestra. Whether he plays piano with them is anyone's guess. One or more of the concerts is hoped to be filmed.

The odds of Peter actually coming to Philly (or anywhere else in the US) are quite slim due to the economy. Just my freakin' luck. Did I even mention that he once played my home town of Philly on my birthday on 18 November 2003? Well, he did. Unfortunately, I had moved to England three years previously. That paritcular birthday, I had been able to move back into my flooded out home-made bender by the River Avon in Bathwick. Hearing that I'd been able to do the unthinkable, my drunk boyfriend came crawling back, reading DH Lawrence love poetry. For some unfathomable reason, I took him back. Oh yeah -- I wasn't on Prozac then.

That's what I get for not staying faithful to PG, even though I don't have a snowball's chance of seeing him on concert on my birthday, let alone the wild thing with him. It's also proof that there's no God -- or, at least, no such thing as a benevolent God.

Off to bang my head against a wall. No -- on second thought, I think I'll just eat an entire chocolate cake. Yeah -- that'll do it.

Peter Gabriel & Atheism

I've taken the leap of faith to become an atheist, although my Mom insists I'm just an agnostic. I'm still a Witch, (Edit -- no, not really) I just don't expect to get any answers when I pray. I pray out of habit. I'm actually just talking to myself, but people think I'm crazy if I admidt that, so I say I'm praying. I've said this so often that now I believe it.

So, what was the big breakthrough that made me finally realize there was no God? Or, at least, a God I would want to have anything to do with?

Because Peter Gabriel won't shag me.

Now, granted the "Peter Gabriel won't shag me" theory is not going to make a lot of noise at the Vatican. I actually do have other, more serious reasons (such as being a survior of domestic abuse) but who wants to read about that? I mean, they're all such depressing reasons. People want to read about sex.

Follow me on the logic of this one.

Now, if there was a benevolent God, I never would have fallen in love with Peter Gabriel. I'm not his type, I've never made any positive impression on him when I did meet him, he's never sent me a birthday card -- in other words, it will never happen between me and PG. So, why did I fall in love with him in the first place?

Who knows? Why does anybody fall in love? I was in the wrong place at the wrong time when my hormones were raging and Peter happened to be the one I laid eyes on at that moment and that's that. The die was cast. I was doomed and I knew it.

Oh, but that didn't stop me. I had boyfriends, but I still was thinking about Peter the whole time. I even ran away with a homeless alcoholic because he had blue eyes and kinda looked like Peter. Made the fantasizing a heck of a lot easier, let me tell you. But that didn't work out and (in the meantime) Peter gets married to a woman younger than I am. I did not even get an invitation to the wedding.

Now, I've gotten to the point in my life where I realize that only Peter will do as a sexual partner and if I do hook up with someone else, it will all go horribly pear-shaped. So, I'm celibate and am going on my 5th anniversary of celibacy later this month.

Unless Peter decides otherwise.

Which ain't gonnna happen.

Logically, I know I should not love Peter any more. But I've tried that and it doesn't work. I still love him, even though he's an impossible aspiration.

A benevolent God would not allow this. Therefore, there is no God.

Ta-da.

Anyway, for those PG fans who checked in on this post just because of the title, the latest release date of PG's next album, Scratch My Back is now 15 Feb, 2010. PG is already doing promotional material for it and is going to do a concert around its release date with full orchestra. It is unknown whether this will be a small tour, a one-off concert or a YouTube Orchestra-type thing. Since one of the songs on the new album will be a cover version of Neil Young's "Philadelphia", rumors are swirling that he may come to Philly, but so far it's only a rumor.

I'm 40. What the Hell Happened?

One day, you have plans to rule the world and the next you're watching your bowel movements like a hawk. You think being a teenager was bad -- that was nothing compared to hitting the big 4 - 0.

I was born at the same time Sesame Street was, so when I see a word like "forty", I'm intnd to think it was brought to me by the letter F. What other words can you think of that also begin with the letter F? (Besides that one.) Hmm, let's see, we've got "failure", "foolish", "futile" and "flotational device". At least I know when I'll die -- the same year Sesame Street is cancelled. It's kind of a Halley's Comet thing.

As I'm shoved kicking and screaming into 40 on 18 November, I realize that there are some cherished dreams that are just never going to materialize throughout the rest of my life. They include:

* Never getting a horse -- and I don't mean a charley horse
* Never sleeping with Peter Gabriel (sex need not be involved)
* Never being the youngest person in the world to land a major book deal, then star in direct in the film adaptation of the book and win an Oscar
* Never again being able to eat a donut without worrying about what it will do to my colon

But, stil, ya gotta larf. I'm now going to end with a scene from my squandered youth:

">

Developing a Taste for Cannabis

Intro

This article was a special order that the client turned down because he claimed that cannabis does not have a tates when added to foods or beverages. You could've knocked me over with a puff of puff when I read that. A stoner having taste buds as opposed to just buds? Anyway, the kind of cannabis I cooked with in the UK was called skunk, although it smelled just fine.

I shopped this around to other clients, but they don't want to touch it because marijuana is such as controversial issue (even medical marijuana). I do not blame you, clients. So, I'm going to stick it up here for free. It's my way of spreading the love.

Now, I cooked with cannabis because I was homeless and needed something for toothaches, insomnia, migraines and dealing with an alcoholic boyfriend. I wouldn't cook with it again because, quite frankly, I have access to better drugs (Prozac and Xanax). I also got rid of the boyfriend. I DO NOT recommend taking cannabis just for the heck of it. This is a substance that needs to be treated with respect. Besides, Xanax gets you stoned faster and you can spell it the same way backwards as you can forwards.

Here it is: Developing a Taste for Cannabis

Some people are put off cooking with cannabis, even though cooking it is arguably far more beneficial than smoking it. It's either because they are scared of what it will taste like or because they have tried it before and did not like the taste. But don’t let one bad experience spoil the possibilities of baking, cooking or making hot, soothing beverages with cannabis.

What Does It Taste Like?

Cannabis is usually described as having an "earthy" taste, but what does that mean? It means marijuana can often taste like dirt. People who like to eat freshly picked button or wild mushrooms should also enjoy the taste of cannabis. People who smoke tobacco often have dulled taste buds and claim they cannot detect the cannabis in food or drinks.

Cannabis leaves can sometimes a leave a sand-like grit in sauces, drinks or bakery goods. This is one reason why people turn to making cannabis butter or oil. But many people do not have the time or patience to make clarified butter or oil. Cannabis butter or oil can still leave a slightly earthy taste but it is not as detectable as it is when cooking with just the leaves.

Grinding It Up

Taste and texture are paramount to indulging in a special dish. But if put off by the thought of grit or a dirt-like flavor, The Hemp and Cannabis Foundation recommends making a cannabis flour. This can also be used in sauces, casseroles or hot beverages -- not just for baking brownies.

Use dry cannabis parts, although some strains that are dry to the touch will release considerable moisture when ground up. Some people prefer to use a mortar and pestle in order to control every bit of the grinding process, but using a food processor will be quicker. If there is a problem with moisture, then adding a pinch of real flour or even dried rice will help to soak up the moisture and make dry flour.

Inevitably, some stubborn pieces will refuse to be ground up. These can be strained out from the flour and used to add to chai or coffee. The taste of the chai or coffee is usually strong enough to cover up the cannabis taste and gives a warming and soothing drink.

Cannabis flour should be used within a few days, unless it has gotten very moist. In that case, it should be used immediately or it may spoil. Use the flour like a dried spice in hot dishes in order to taste the food and not just the cannabis flour. Use sparingly in bakery goods.

Islam & Christianity: Familiarity Breeds Contempt

If your life has been far too happy lately and you really need some depression in order to balance things out, there's nothing like reading a chapter of a book on Chrisitanity and then a chapter of a book on Islam and then comparing the two.

In case you're wondering, I've done just that. I read Catholicism For Dummies and The Complete Idiot's Guide to Understanding Islam. (Yes, I know, Catholicism is only a branch of Chrisitanity, but a hell of a big one).

The depressiong part is not only that anyone still is dim-witted enough to participate in organized religion, but that these particular two religions are so full of similarities that you really can't help but wonder what all the arguments are about. People and animals have actually died over this crap.

The similarities include:

* Belief in angels and a Judement Day
* Belief in that whole one God thing
* Belief that Christians will go to Heaven
* Belief that somehow people are better than animals
* Thou shalt not lie, commit adultery, murder or steal stuff that ain't yours
* Robes -- lots and lots of robes

So if these religions are so similar, then why to the adherents hate each other so much? It could be because they are so similar. Think about who really gets on your tits. It's usually not complete strangers, but your family or your lover. This is because they know you so well that they know precisely how to wind you up.

Really, we all need to watch "Monty Python's Life of Brian" and get on with our lives.

10th Anniversary of Being a Witch

It was ten years ago today that I stopped dilly-dallying and decided I was a Witch. I did a little self-initiation ceremony in the bathtub. I wanted wisdom. I wanted positive change. And I also wanted a blue-eyed lover. Sadly, I got all three, although the blue-eyed lover (Peter Gabriel) is now only met in dreams.

I've gone through a hell of a lot in ten years. Some highlights:

* Ran away to England
* Had to return to America when my hand-made home in England was burnt down
* Fell in love with a blue-eyed homeless busker, Mitch
* He was the guy who burnt my home down
* I became homeless in the south of England for 5 years
* Inside of my home was an 800 page manuscript about witchcraft
* Was attacked by Mitch, so I defended myself and he had me arrested for assault so I spent a lovely night as a guest of Bath police department. Charges were dropped
* I nearly got run over by Eric Clapton in his Lambourghini during the brief time I lived in Cranliegh in Surrey
* Met Patrick Stewart
* Got an autograph from Patrick, but it burned in the fire
* However, I sent a photocopy of the autograph to my Mom who saved it
* Although homeless, managed to get enough money together to travel to Birmingham and see a Peter Gabriel concert on 1 June 2004
* Was too ashamed of myself to go visit Peter Gabriel, even though his studio was only several miles only from my home in the woods. I did see PG walk about a few times during my years in England, but I never approached him.
* Got my first dog, Rusty, but he died about six months later. He'd been abandoned when he was an estimated 16 years old when he came to be mine
* Got my current dog, Pony. (Doing well, thank you)
* Got two tanks worth of fish while back in America
* Discovered that my Mom had saved some of my belongings I'd left behind over five years previously because she somehow knew I'd be back
* Finally got help for my engenous recurring depression while I was homeless in England because I couldn't afford to do it while I was employed in America
* Finally got help for my migraines
* Started my own business as a freelance writer in October of 2006 and it's doing very well, thank you

So, what have I learned from all of this? Wells, there is an old saying by Albert Einstein that goes "God does not play dice." However, not only does God play dice, the bastard cheats.

The God of Gospel Music

I've just recently been commissioned to write articles on every single Johnny Cash album ever released. This is going to give me a tidy profit. Why? That Johnny Cash was a busy boy. Not counting bootleg albums, his officially released US albums total a whopping 96. Not like a certain British singer-songwriter we know. (Yes, Peter Gabriel -- I'm talkin' to you.)

I grew up listening to Johnny Cash because my Dad was a big fan. Also, it was pretty hard to be an American with at least one working ear and not bump into a JC tune every once in a while. Now that I'm burying myself in everything Johnny Cash, one can't help but notice that he was a little crazy about Christianity.

According to The Man Called Cash (Steve Turner, 2004), JC believed in tithing. The way he did it was that every tenth song he recorded had to be a gospel song. Eventually, he went on to do only gospel albums.

Now, gospel music is actually damn good music. There have been many a Christian who became "saved" merely through listening to the music. And then they go on to live their lives in a very un-Christian manner.

So, what kind of God is the God ssung about in American traditional gospel music? (Not that contemporty fluffy bunny pop gospel crap, either). I mean a real good thumper like "I Saw the Light" (which was actually written by Hank Williams, but it still counts).

The God seems to be the the song itself. Just the feeling you get from singing it with others. There is a touch of the transcendent there for just that space. Other than that, what could have this God meant to such performers as JC, who had a sadistic father who drowned JC's puppies for fun. Why would God allow these puppies to die and yet be the subject of such triumphant music?

God is good at being the God of creativity, but not much else.

JC would probably say, "Never mind. Just play another song."

So, we will. Here's JC in "Wonderful Time Up There":

">

Five Years of Pony!

My dog Pony is five years old today. We did the usual doggie birthday thing of going for a long walk in the sporatic rain, eating too much and enjoying a large shopping spree at Pony's favorite pet store. She's the best thing that ever happened to me.

A long time ago, when I was homeless in England, I took in a 16 year old abandoned mixed breed dog named Rusty. He only lived another few months, but made a huge impression on me, since he was my first dog. He died in February 2002 and it wasn't until almost two years later did I feel recovered enough to think about getting another dog.

Since I was still homeless at the time, I was not allowed to adopt a dog from a shelter. I also seriously lacked the money to buy a dog. Any dog I would get would have to come to me. I don't do many magic spells because they take up so much time and effort. Besides, I may later come to regret them.

But I did a spell for a dog. I asked the Goddess Hecate for a dog and gave her a list of requirements. Months later, I was told that a friend's bitch had escaped for a night on the town while she was in heat and just gave birth to four puppies. The birthdate was August 13, which used to be a festival day for the Goddess Hecate.

Since then, Pony and I have been through a lot, including getting beat up by the same man; watching our home burn down; trans-atlantic flight and living in America. Pony's chased away my nightmares.

Sometimes, watching her twitch in her sleep and snore, I wonder about that spell I did long ago and our life since. Although I dont believe that "all things work together for good for them that love God", it is nice to look at her and know that sometimes, sometimes, I can just hear a voice whisper:

"And they all lived happily ever after."