Popular Content

Showing most liked content since 12/22/2017 in all areas

  1. 46 points
    When i was a kid, there was a mountain ash in my garden that I used to hide in when the fear I had of my dad, got too much. I was scared of heights, still am, but for some reason I felt safe in its arms. Safe in a way I could never feel in the arms of the huge and looming oak, that that my dad seemed to be. His presence filled every molecule of me with dread. His presence in the house, coloured every molecule of the air in front of me, the air I sucked into me and the air his fists would swing through, to get to me. Hidden in my tree though, I could see the fields and watch the horses run. I could see the cars leaving my town, and I could see the cars coming into town. I watched for my lovely, white haired, stooped and shuffling, neighbour, Ridley, driving home in his old and battered mini, from the farm he worked on, well into his 80s. No one could see me. The leaves disappeared me. I was myself when I was held in that tree. I had one other companion, my black cat, Raffles. She'd climb up there with me. Sit on my lap or on a nearby branch, stare at the same spot I was staring at, fall asleep as I stroked her beautiful black fur. I remember one day, as the sun was going away, and the sky was turning red before the dark blue and the chill, thinking that I didn't understand why people were so cruel. I must have bee eight or nine. I used to come home from the beatings at school and wonder if he'd come in tonight. As soon as I heard his car roll onto the dirt track lane we lived on, I was gone, straight into the branches, high and behind the thick wall of leaves. I'd be there till my mother called me in. I never went straight away. I knew what was coming, but I'd put it off. I'd hid in what my the great C.S. Lewis called, the world between worlds. I always wanted just that extra few seconds, to breathe the air he hadn't touched yet. "Those who's love we wanted but we couldn't get, we emulate." Bruce said this on his Broadway theatre stage, he continued "It's the way we stake our claim to the love that was rightfully ours, but denied us." By this point he's already taken us to 'the grandest tree" in his hometown, we've sat in its high branches, and we've played with his toy soldiers as they hid behind its roots, in the dirt. When he told us it took him away from a world he was already not that keen on, I began crying. Bruce became my way out on New year's Eve, going into New Year's Day, I'm guessing 2am, as 1984 was being kicked into nothingness, by 1985, on my TV, as we sat waiting to see if my father would come home, and wondering about the mood he'd be in. He came in, I said "happy New Year" to him, and I went over to give him a cuddle. He was drunk, he was always furious when he was drunk. "What's he up for?" he shouted at my mother. I lay in bed listening to things downstairs crash, and smash, I heard the screams and the shouts. I recalled, as he left the morning before, that he told us, "you two wait up for me". I lay there listening to just another night howl in a long line of nights, but it was like no other night; it was the night Bruce brought me down from my hiding place, said I could make the house I lived in my place, my home. He didn't drag a startled young actress out of that crowd, it was me he lifted up. I was Courtney Cox. I remain Courtney Cox. So all these years later, Bruce is stood in front of me. And he's talking to a small group of us. People like me, who have been raised in some kind of way, by the same man. And he's explaining himself, his past, his hometown, the smell of the coffee that drifted from the Nestle factory, how he hates the taste, but loves the smell, he's taking us into his dad's favourite bar, and making us feel the fear filled excitement of being lost in the land of smoke and giants he found in there. And I'm there, with him, I'm feeling the material of the clothing that he's pushing through, I'm smelling the booze and the smoke, and I'm looking up at his dad as his dad looks down at him, and I see his dad's face, and I'm also seeing my own father's face. Staring, and unrecognising, the booze complexion, the beer shot eyes. I never went in to the places he drank. he used the pretext of taking me out somewhere, so my mother wouldn't know, and he'd leave me in the car, as he drank and he'd come out hours later, and give me a 50p piece for my complicity and my silence. But Bruce has led me in there for the first time. Bruce is is more fearless than I. He's the path maker, the ground staker and the tree shaker. He talks about the feeling of leaving the place he'd been held down in. The feeling of walking streets far away, and deserts even farther. How his whole country has "come too far, worked too hard" to allow the appeal its "ugliest angels" to win out. He talks about Clarence. The streets they walked together, the stages they made their own. How one plus one, can equal three, when one is Bad Scooter and the other one is The Big Man. I can see Clarence's face, he conjures him onto the stage. He's as clear as the the grandest tree in his town was 40 minutes earlier. He's as big as that tree was. Clarence Clemons was so big, he through broke my own father's racist instructionals, he blasted them clean out of my home, with the sound he made, and the presence he gave, and the smile and the fact that he was on stage in front of me in June 1985, and he was holding my hero in his massive arms, and then he was kissing him, on the lips. And as Bruce conjures up Clarence, for every night night on the Broadway stage, he's letting those memories back in. Along with all of the others. Every time I saw Clarence, it was magic, and Bruce uses the magic of one plus one equalling three, to bring it all flooding back. Patti, she emerged from the car outside the theatre looking beautiful and smiling as she waved and shouted hello to us. She comes on stage and she's the same, she sings and the full range of her voice can be heard. There's a resonance to it, a warmth, that can be lost on the E Street stage. Stripped of effects, and free of the complex mix, it's a thing of true beauty. Her phrasing is so well placed. Each note matters. the choice of high double octave harmony here, or sliding fifth there, is essential to the story she's taking part in. the way she turns as they enter the final third of Brilliant Disguise and mirrors Bruce's forward looking pose, is a piece of subtle staging. It brings back a memory of Pacino and DeNiro in the final shot of Heat. And like those two men, this man and this woman, are halves of the same whole. They are the answer to the question, is love real? The answer they give on this stage is, yes. and it's inspiring too. Bruce tells us that the tree that held him and lived with him, is gone now. He went back one day, and it had been taken down to the ground. it's the final heart break of the night. Kay and I, and the man from Brooklyn, sat to the left of me, have cried, laughed, exclaimed in amazement, and wept again. And now his tree is gone, he's telling us, "cut to the streets". He tells us of his sense of loss. But he looks up at the sky where its branches used to be, "something was still there. The air and the space above it's roots" filled with its presence. Then he tells us that its the same for his people, his father, his grandparents, Danny . . . Clarence. They all remain, their spirits, their souls, their outlines filled with the night and the stars. Toward the end, Bruce channels my other Rock n' Roll hero, when he tells us the "the future is not yet written". I spent a lot of my time in New York down at Joe's mural. I drank at the bar attached to it and I got tattooed two blocks from it. I couldn't decide what my tattoo was going to say. My tattooist had already messaged me "Know Your Rights" and a few other suggestions. But I wasn't sure. Then Bruce stands up on that stage, talks about himself, but all the way through its myself I'm recalling, and finally he speaks to me using my dead hero's words. And that's the moment. Joe is there, his outline is filled by Bruce. he's given a moment to talk to me, and then he's gone. I took a candle out for Joe, from the bar we had been drinking in. We were drunk, we took some pictures, we laughed a lot, hugged, and the night was special. A day later I was seeing Bruce, and the night was special again. I think Bruce on Broadway is about the outlines of the things that have passed and we have lost, and what it is we fill the these outlines with. When I read that the show was to be about his story, his mother, his father, his friends, him; I wondered if this show might be a little self indulgent. I needn't have done that. It's about him and us, him in us, us in him; how we have found the outlines, made the outlines, and how we have filled them and can still fill them. He's in all of us, and he's making it plain he wants us to remain in him. This one man show has two people in it, and a mighty cast that he conjures up, nightly. At one point he talks of who we can be collectively, the night is about who we have been individually and how we have come together, one plus one plus one plus one, and it makes a bigger number than they've invented yet. The human number. the biggest mystery in the universe. We carry our outlines with us to this show, I had a whole bunch of them, including my own tree, still standing, but dying now. Bruce fills the outlines, just like he did every other time we carried them to him. He gives us the desert, Mary, Wendy, The Big Man, and he gives us the persona sat next to us, the stranger to my left, the long time friend I made here, and without who, I would not have been able to witness this show, to my right. We're together. All of us.
  2. 43 points
    Ok, here's my quick review. That was the greatest 2 hour slice of art this world has provided me. I cried so uncontrollably during My Hometown and Tenth Avenue, I thought I might have to leave. Ive read Homer, Cervantes, Auster, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Cormac McArthy, Hemingway, Wolfe and a thousand others. I once drank with Harold Pinter, (long story) and I've seen all of Shakespeare's plays, and I've read every sonnet. I've been blown away by Pacino and DeNiro and I've wept with Dylan Thomas, but nothing, nothing, moved me like I was moved tonight. Nothing.
  3. 36 points
    I'm finding it very hard to comprehend what I witnessed, and to try to put into words what the show meant to me. I feel like I'd been waiting for this day for a thousand years. Bruce is a part of me, and being able to be reconnected with him in such a way is something I'll never forget. I had high expectations, of course I did. But what I saw was so much more than a show. So much bigger than me, or you, or Bruce. Bigger than all of us. I saw something I feel was life altering. As Bruce was on stage just feet away from me, I found myself seeing different versions of him, and I felt the different versions of myself transcend through also. I sat there, in my seat, transfixed by what was in front of me. It was this man, who through his music has guided me through my life and healed me when I needed it. I was not only listening to the songs he was playing, or the words he was saying, but I was feeling them too. As he sang the songs I know all too well, I saw him as a young musician in his 20's trying to make it big, I saw the face of the man from those 1978 videos I'd watch religiously, and I saw the transition of his life right in front of me. When him and Patti sang Tougher Than The Rest, I saw the music video. I saw the look on their faces as they sang to one another. The look of love. It was like time had stood still and I had been given access to witness it, just for tonight. I cried a lot. No surprise there. How can you not? But what really got to me was Thunder Road. The song that ended my first show was now being performed in front of me, and it was like the song has never even ended. Like the magic never faded. This was the song I heard on the boardwalk in Asbury Park and cried as I looked around at my surroundings and realised how lucky I am to be a Bruce fan. It's the song that played in the restaurant as me, Marsha and Cecilia stood and shed tears before the show. If there's ever a song that could speak to my soul, and send me to heaven, it'd be this. The other one that really grasped me was Dancing in the Dark. Maybe not a highlight for everyone, but referencing back to my point about visions - as Bruce played this song, I felt like I was in a montage. A light at the end of the tunnel kind of moment. I saw what was in front of me, but I also saw 6 year old me dancing in front of the tv in our old house to the music video. Now for music to take you to such a place, and bring you back into reality with your soul assured, and life affirmed, I'd say that was something pretty damn special. I heard songs tonight that I never thought I'd hear live. I saw Bruce in a setting I never would've imagined in my wildest dreams. I swear to you, it felt like me and him were the only people in the room. He was singing to me. For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel alone. This show, moreover, this experience, gave me a sense of belonging, a feeling of reassurance and most importantly, it reminded me I have something to believe in. Love is very real my friends. We have something special here, with this man. All I can say is I feel truly lucky that I listened to Born To Run that day and truly began my Bruce journey. Without it, I wouldn't be who I am today. May we all walk in the sun someday. I'm off to go and cry for a thousand years..
  4. 35 points
    Ok, ok, ok. I've been fast tracked and upgraded!! im in the posh seats! I get room to have legs and a cushion and I sit next to a posh person who got the next 10 hours has to sit next to a blokey from Newcastle. The tables have turned. Big thanks to John from BA who made me his special pet project. Also thanks to Dr Marten Boots. Without you I could not have bonded so beautifully with John. im going to snore for ten hours, or at least until posh fella smothers me with his complementary cushion. Early Morning Rain is playing. Shuffle gods are really giving me the musical ambrosia here.
  5. 33 points
    Yay, we're back! I apologize for leaving you hanging for two days. This was caused by a problem with our host's new network configuration. They said they had updated our server, but left out a very important part: telling the world that the domain greasylake.org had changes IP's. Repeated inquiries to them about it were ignored, leaving me pretty desperate. I tried to mess with it myself several times, but contrary to popular belief I'm not an expert in server configuration. Anyway, I finally suceeded, and things are, I think, back to normal. Again, I'm truly sorry about this, but at least we are back in time to wish each other happy New Year. So HAPPY NEW YEAR! Hope it will be a great one for everybody and that we will see lots of Bruce excitement
  6. 28 points
    Abbey was eventually allowed to go home yesterday. She had her christmas dinner and opened all her prezzies, she had a very good and very much deserved nice day. The physio is very tough going but she's a very determined young women. Tomorrow she is back in the RVI for another round of chemo. Abbey has to have two operations one for each lung, the first is in two weeks. She has been so very brave we all so very proud of her especially Abbey's mam and dad. I just want to thank everyone again for all the messages of support, I know for a fact she reads them as i watched her read them on christmas day in hospital. Thank you all so very much.
  7. 27 points
    DJ are you talking about The Calvary? Cos I'm still trying to get over the fact that he doesn't actually look like Orson Welles. It's going to take me some to deal with this...
  8. 26 points
    Ok folks, thanks for the good humour. It's cheered me up. im in a hotel. I'm on standye for a flight in the UK morning. It's 00.15 here. I've got to go back to the airport for 6.00. i got to the hotel and pretty much passed out. I get migraines once every five years or something, instead of a connecting flight yesterday, I got a whopper. I was pretty much passed out by the time I got to speak to someone. In the morning, I'll be a lot more up for a polite confrontation. I really couldn't do much but drool by the time I made it to a person. Basically, my connection, Newcastle to Heathrow, was slightly late. When I got to the plane. 20 minutes before take off time, they'd fully loaded. To me that's a crock of shit, but at that point, nothing can change the situation. Certainly not a full blown melt down in an airport, so I got all English on their asses and queued for 4 hours, whimpering occasionally. Thr hotel here is fine. I passed out on the bed and missed dinner. I ate nothing yesterday, so breakfast at 5.30am here, is going to get messy!!! The calvary is on his way . . . my bugle will blow.
  9. 24 points
    I’ll try to describe this outworldly experience, as I already have in emails to a couple of you. This is not a proper review, I just needed to get rid of some emotions, but still, if you need to come to the show with no preconception at all, you should stop reading here. This show is so totally different from what he’s giving us in arenas and stadiums, and at the same time it’s not.The best common word I can find is love.Love was what caught me the first time I saw Bruce. It was fabulous music, joy, happiness, fun, but the huge difference between the Bruce experience and other really good artists was the love that he was beaming out from the stage. That’s what reached me, being one little dot in the enormous crowd. This man is full of love, and he reaches out to every single one of us. He certainly reached me, this first time, at Ullevi Stadium, five years ago.I walked out from the stadium, with a feeling that something, I don’t know what, in my world had changed. I hesitate to use the word, it’s not in my usual vocabulary, but I felt like I had been BLESSED. And ready to explore the universe of Bruce. The experience from last night, five years later, with a substantial Bruce education in my luggage, was obviously very different, but basically the same. No band, no shouting, no communal singing. Nothing of that. Instead we get the intimate feeling of being in the same room with a close relative, who knows you just as well as you know him. We have a close relationship. He’s telling you how and why he became the person he is, people he met along the way, and - because it actually IS Bruce Springsteen- he sings some of your favourite songs. Very close up, very personal. He talks about the love he always needed but never got from his dad, and the love he did get from his mom. The love that saved him. He talks about leaving. Leaving his home town, running away from things. He’s an EXPERT at those things. Baby, I was born to run! And trust. Not good at that. Is that me, baby, or just a brilliant disguise? He talks about actually finding love and trust. And Patti is there, right on the stage. He talks about the state his country, the world, is in. How evil is gaining ground. It’s a long walk home. And he talks about us. The connection. What we need to hold on to. To have faith. The lord’s prayer. We are BLESSED. There, I said it again. He did it.Mr CS said after the show that he had been watching a religious manifestation. Maybe that’s true.
  10. 23 points
  11. 23 points
  12. 22 points
  13. 21 points
    Life altering, soul affirming, cathartic. I feel ultimately different. I wish I could tell you how incredible it was but I can't come up with the words in between my tears right now I can't believe this just happened
  14. 21 points
    Always nice to have an excuse to post this one:
  15. 20 points
    This is my Happy New Year song. I spent the midnight hour with people who wouldn't get it. So I share it with you, my friends, who deserve it better. May 2018 give us peace, love and all that we wish for!
  16. 20 points
    My show, my show, my show!!! I've been waiting for this but I never thought it would be the night I was there! I'm so excited for this!
  17. 19 points
  18. 19 points
  19. 19 points
    Patti was back, I'll write properly about her later, but she was looking beautiful when she emerged from the car, got out and gave us a huge hello and a huger smile. Her voice, phrasing and choice of notes, especially toward the end of Brilliant Disguise, was not just impeccable, but also so moving, when she took her bow at the end of her section, I spontaneously leapt to my feet. I believe I was the only one in the place that did so, and usually I'd be embarrassed, but I reckon I got it right. Kay, loved the show. Cried the same times I did, laughed loud at the very funny lines he threw at us, and is my hero because she got me that ticket in the first place.
  20. 18 points
    Four of us had Hurley’s hamburgers. Enormous. Rachel had an enormous sandwich. Mr CS had fish and chips. Also enormous. It was good. Most important: we had a table by the window. This id s picture of the two ICONIC Greasy Lake members @rachelharms and @rosiejaneymary , captured while they are watching Bruce signing autographs down in the street.
  21. 17 points
    As with previous albums I will adopt the controversially reckless policy of listening to it before deciding whether I like it or not.
  22. 17 points
    My employer was very happy over the black out. I'm like working two weeks ahead of schedule.
  23. 17 points
    I just wanna say... The Lake sure did treat me nice this year. So thanks for the laughs and the friendship. I hope Santa has left you all lots of presents under the Christmas tree.. Someone forgot to turn their work alarm off.. So I'm awake as early as I was in 2006 when I snuck to the stairs to see a shiny new Bratz bike in the living room I must've sat there for an hour just wishing I could go and open my presents Anyway, hope you all have a day filled with love and joy, delicious food and celebration. The only thing I'm excited about today is the pigs in blankets - which I'm sure @rosiejaneymary is sick of me mentioning My real Christmas Day actually begins in something like 23 days... Now I don't know if you know this, or if I've mentioned it enough times... But I'm SEEING BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN IN LIKE 3 WEEKS !!!! I can't believe I'm saying that for a second time! Now the countdown really begins... So, have a good one everyone. Wherever you may be, whatever you may be doing. and hell I'm throwing another one in for good measure (after all this is the only time of the year I get to use them AND I spy a certain Beatle ) Merry Christmas!
  24. 17 points
    I was there. It was my fifth show of the '78 tour.
  25. 16 points
    We have cleared customs and are relaxing in the Qantas lounge. We leave here at 11:45 and 14.5 hours later, we arrive in LAX 5 hours before we left. It's always weird crossing the dateline.
  26. 16 points
  27. 16 points
  28. 16 points
    I can't believe I have my own SLV! The setlistvisions were one of the reasons I fell in love with this place when I first joined. Oh this makes me so happy!!!!!! Despite the Chris Christie photos plaguing it
  29. 16 points
    Reason #724 why Spike is the purest Springsteen fan alive: I think I've mentioned our on-site thrift store at least once on this thread. The clients that work the donations intake all know to give Spike a heads-up when they get a bunch of rock CDs in so he can browse them before they hit the shelves and have first pick if he wants to buy any of them. Well, somebody donated a big collection today and Spike was half out of breath when he found me to tell me there were "seven Old Man CDs in the thrift store!" He said he didn't have any money and we (meaning me) had to buy them. "Spike, you already have all of his CDs. So do I. And, look, three of them are The Rising." "I know. Uh, yes! But The Old Man doesn't belong in a thrift store!" So...yeah... Reason #725: End of the day, bus-loading time. I ask Spike what he's gonna do now that he has four copies of The Rising. "Prob'ly, prob'ly give one to Anthony. He needs Bruce, man."
  30. 16 points
    The cry will be "you know how much this cost me?"
  31. 16 points
    Only got 1 present off Santa but it was all I needed (actual ticket not pictured)
  32. 16 points
    Not quite as warm as @jukebox‘s beach, but a Very Beary Christmas from Ireland to you all.....
  33. 15 points
    Ok, I'm home. I miss New York. I miss kay and the Sunny Day Girls, I want to see Bruce again, I want to live in the east village. My tattooist is so cool and sweet, and he lives near Harvey Keitel! I miss my tattooist and I want to meet Harvey Kietel and then miss him too. I really need some sleep. Couple of hours and then the reviewing begins!
  34. 15 points
    Hi Abbey. I don't know all that this coming week holds for you, but one thing I know for sure is that all of us here who have been taken by your strength and beauty are cheering for you, and if it gets a little tough close your eyes, take a deep breath and try to feel our love and support. It's coming to you from all over Europe, Australia, the United States, and from me in NYC.
  35. 15 points
    We all watch these short videos from our own perspective, and for me, when I'm off work and I look at them, I often see the things that I love, but miss in the moment of the day. In that funny video above...Spike and all his shirts...I'm just reminded how open he is, how unabashedly "himself" he always is. I think it truly is the core of his human beauty. In every situation, in the presence of anyone and everyone, Spike is Spike. When I'm teasing him a little about how he ended up wearing all those shirts, God, I just love him there watching it back now. He isn't embarrassed, he doesn't have to make up any bullshit reason, he just says "I don't know why" and he knows it's funny that he has no idea why he's wearing so many shirts, but it's also the truth. It's just the way it is. Spike was out sick last Thursday and Friday and we were off for the Holiday yesterday, so it's been just about a week since I've seen him. I was looking forward to today and I laugh at myself that I got to work early so I wouldn't miss his bus pulling up. There are days when Spike is the absolute only reason to stay on this job. The clients in general, of course, but Spike. He shines a light I need to see. And he pretty much just fucking rocks.
  36. 15 points
    Happy New Year to all my Laker friends around the world. Special HNY to @CosmicKid who makes this possible. Not looking forward to January for a few reasons but let's hope everything turns out well.
  37. 15 points
    Happy New Year Everyone. May your 2018's be full of health and happiness. I'm going ring in the New Year the best way I can think of, and listen to my beloved Upper Darby '75 download 2017 has been one hell of a struggle for me, which sounds so silly when I think of all the amazing things I've seen and done this year. But I seriously hope that as 2018 falls upon us that there will be better days to come And as of the 1st January, it'll be two weeks until I fly to New York to see Bruce. I think that's a pretty alright way to start the year!! So whether you're celebrating or not, alone or with company, I wish you all the very best, and thank you for being the most wonderful group of people to share 2017 with
  38. 15 points
  39. 15 points
    It was really strange, actually talking to the wife and real people for two days Please don't ever let that happen again
  40. 15 points
    Makes you wonder what her mime would be for Reno?
  41. 15 points
    We all know who really caused it and
  42. 15 points
    I am completely beyond knackered so what do I do? I come to Greasy of course. But for extra reasons, apart from telling Jukebox I would on Christmas Eve and I would never knowingly lie to Juke, except maybe about his toupee but that is called a white lie. When I have not been here lately I have been writing short stories at another place. Started by accident and got a little out of control. Now this is a private site (not accessible without paying) and is run in aid of a particular thing (I am being deliberately vague). Someone got it into their head to combine the stories into a bound collection with some illustrations as a gift for the two people that run the site. I love them both so I said fine. Then they wanted to sell it to raise money for that cause. I reluctantly said yes. Long story. But I was up in the early hours to see the people get the gift and thankfully they absolutely love it. A win. The book was released and about 50 people bought it in the first couple of hours. I have no idea how many will sell but the honest truth is that the number of sales is about those two people not my stories. For some reason me being realistic about that irritates them! But here is where I come to reason I came here despite being completely knackered and it being nearly 40C outside. There are a couple of thousand people on the site but probably only 200 people who actively comment. I use to be one of those and now I am not because it is a bit like high school - the cool kids get attention and the rest of us get ignored. That is not even remotely the fault of the people who run it - they are fabulous folks - it is just the way that kind of environment evolves. If you say something one of those two people like you suddenly get reactions but if they don't react no one else will. That kind of shite. Now you lot are nothing like that. Yeah there are arguments and contrempts here but people get heard. They might get told to take their attitude to Outlaw Pete and stick it where the sun don't shine but people get heard and that is respect, even if you don't respect their opinion on Waiting on a Sunny Day. I like that people as diverse as @newcastle roy @Raced Off The Street and @Ann Jones can all exist in the same ecosystem and no one tries to impress the cool kids cause frankly none of us qualify as cool kids (sorry @Paolo's Circus Story not even 15 avatar changes will fix your obsession with football and WOASD). I want to make clear there are some wonderful people over on that other place, a number who have become friends and I deeply admire the people who run it but they are not the wonderful collection of ratbags you lot are. They are not all completely bat shit crazy in the most bewilderingly fun way you lot are. So Merry Christmas Baby to all of you. Thanks for being alternatively wonderful and a pain in the arse but above all genuine and real. I hope for all our sakes 2018 does not eat dirt so badly. There are two people here who could possibly work out what the other site is. Please don't. It is just a bit of fun and I want to keep it separate from everything else. Please respect that. I leave you with this (until after Christmas). Have a fun day @jukebox and Francis the possum I named for you sends his love @Me and Frank.
  43. 14 points
  44. 14 points
  45. 14 points
    There's certain places in this town where a pink hat may come in handy.
  46. 14 points
    Anybody aliiiiiiiiiiiive in the swamps of Jersey? Sightseeing from One World Trade Center.
  47. 14 points
    WHOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!! I'm waking up to my own Setlistvision! This is almost as exciting as the actual trip to New York! Thank you @AMIW. I'm speechless.
  48. 14 points
    Well....just a few days before Christmas. Lots of last minute stuff going on for many of us...shopping, preparing to have people over or to travel to friends and family. I figured it's a good time to bring back a post or two from my friend MArk/Welby. So here's a couple items from GL's past...I hope some of you enjoy the trip. Here's one of two from 2002 that I'll re-post. This one covers the 'Grinch' part of MArk at Christmas lol.... See, this is the kind of crap I hate…. – DEC 2002 Today is December 21st...yet we have already started to see the influx of "Merry Christmas Lakers' greetings as well as those which call attention to themselves by distancing themselves from wishing Merry Christmas by announcing that they aren’t (sort of like me going on hiatus...HowyadoinCon?) going to partake. I am really starting to dislike Christmas because it’s TOO FRIGGIN MUCH...let it be a day or even two...but jesushchristonahotgriiddle do we have to start the friggin thing in October and run it till Groundhog Day??? I am so sick of the goddamn wire reindeers with the lights and Merry Christmas half off sales that I am about to do a "Falling Down"...I was buying a cup of coffee in one of these gourmet coffee shops before. The ones where they charge you 2.50 for a cup of java and this guy was wearing antlers and a red rubber nose and he asked me if I wanted the Christmas Blend....I said 'fuck off ya idjit"...and everyone gave me the evil eye like I was nuts or something...a 30 year old man wearing a rubber fucking nose and I'm the strange one??? Then I was at my sons basketball game and this woman who was back from Amsterdam was telling a story about how these people dress up as the "old " Santa, whatever the hell that is and go around and peek in the children’s windows...she thought it was cute...I said I woulda put a cap in the head of whatever Santa peeked in my window...my wife stepped on my bunion and that hurt like hell which made me even MORE pissed that it was Christmas. I'm gonna go drink some more gin...I hope a reindeer lands outside tonight...it'll be stew time. This one covers the 'Ebenezer' on Christmas Morning' part of MArk lol.... Peace – Christmas 2002 ......it’s all about the connections that you make. A couple of years ago I stumbled upon this place, and it has allowed me to make those connections. Sometimes it’s like a static shock when you walk across a carpet and other times it’s like gripping a live wire and holding on for dear life. But it’s there, and Springsteen has brought us all together. I like to think he has succeeded in his mission to bring people together, to have them make those connections. I think he sees it when he looks out on those faces...even those who don’t make it into the pit....and see's the smiles or the arms folded across the chest, with a smirk on because they are "getting it' and he's the one sending it out. So anyway, before I start on a rant, I wanted to say Merry Christmas to all of you and thanks for the gift of that connection. It’s there or you wouldn’t be looking right now. It’s here that I can put down all those thoughts running round my head and without you folks it wouldn’t be worth it. This is the land of peace, love, justice ...and no mercy. There are surely a million things I would like to say, but then I would have to put one of those disclaimers up....so I won’t. So play it forward...keep giving...make those connections, cause without em all circuits are busy. Merry Christmas you crazy band of happy thieves.... Peace out. And this last one that I brought back once before, but I think it deserves another read. A fictional Christmas time story from the pen and mind of my friend and yours...or some of yours...lol December 2013 She had an old Green Roadrunner Super Sport. On the dashboard was one of those plastic cartoon characters and it said "Beep Beep!" on the base. It was stuck there with old electrical tape and it wobbled when she shifted into second gear. There was a much smaller statue of St. Christopher next to it. I once asked her why they shared the space and she told me one was a backup, but she never did tell me which one. She had red hair and she was all legs and shoulders, lips and eyes. Sort of like a caricature that you would see in the old Hot Rod magazines. You know the ones I am talking about. You would see them on decals and bumper stickers. Though she would never put anything on her car that would change it. She told me that was her ticket out of town and she treated it better than she ever treated me. There was a double racing stripe down each side and over each rear wheel well it said SS. I used to tell her that meant "so sweet" and she would actually grimace. That car was everything to her. It symbolized the open door that we are all looking for in life. She drove it like she stole it, to every single desperate moment. I loved her like fire loves gasoline. It was 1977 and I was working for a plumbing supply shop in Queens. I had gotten out of high school that year. I still didn't have my license, because I couldn't afford a car, never mind the insurance. Every day I would take the train all the way to what seemed like the other ends of the earth. I could see the skeletal facade of Shea stadium on the horizon and that would mean I was close to work. When I got off the train I would walk the pavement, and it would eventually turn to dirt and oil stained puddles making rainbows where rainbows never sparkled. It wasn't what I had planned. I had dreamed of going to a college in New Hampshire and studying writing. I had saved up about half of what I thought would be the cost for a full year, and was hoping to get some help from my parents. Things didn't go that way, and fate dealt me some rotten cards. She had a job at a 24 hour Greek diner out on Woodhaven Blvd., working any shift they chose to give her. We would go out when she had the time. They were not dates according to her. We were just "getting together" and hanging out. Some nights we would head out to Long Island, to an old drive-in past the end of the Long Island Expressway. Out where there was nothing but potato fields and blacktop. She would open it up on those back roads, double shifting, eyes glued to whatever demons she was chasing. At the drive-in she would never watch the movie. She'd curl up in the front seat after a few sips of Southern Comfort and put her head on my chest and sleep. I think she only went so she could drive those back roads. In the winter of 1978 we had a bit of a falling out around the first week of December. She was mad at me for not going to school. She said that I was never going to get out if I got up every day just to work at some plumbing shop in Willets Point. I asked her how she knew that since she was still slinging plates at the diner and driving that piece of shit around Queens. I thought she was going to hit me. Her face turned red and her fists clenched and then she slowly decompressed, her skin going back to its alabaster white. She put her hand on my face and kissed me gently on the lips. She turned around and walked out the front door. I heard her car start up like some beast, and the engine purr as she drove slowly away. I looked out the porch window to see the tail lights twinkle out like shooting stars. On Christmas morning, there had been a snowfall, and everything in Brooklyn was white. I had gotten up early to make coffee for my parents and light the lights on the tree before everyone came down. As I turned to go into the living room from the hall, I saw a white envelope had been slipped under the door with my initials on it. Looking out the window I could see small footprints in the virgin snow, leading up to and then away from the snow. I opened it to see Wile E Coyote in a Santa's Cap holding what looked like a roast turkey. Inside it said "Beep-beep yer ass! Have a Wile Christmas!" and under that this was written: Dearest B, You were right. Nobody gets anywhere by standing still and taking the easy way out. I drove all night and I never seemed to get anywhere. I decided to stop driving and start going places. I sold the car and I am leaving you the money. I want you to get going as fast as you can. Get out of there before it drags you down. Go to school and grab your rainbows, don't watch them disappear into the mud. Just so you know, those nights we spent at the drive-in will be the hardest thing to leave. I love you. K. Inside the card was three thousand dollars in cash. I do not remember much else about that Christmas. All day I walked around with that money in my pocket, like it was loose change. The next day I filled out my application for the University of New Hampshire, and I was accepted for the following fall semester. I became an English major and tried my hand at creative writing, but it turned out I had more of a flair for business. I finished school after five years and when I came out got a job in a company that was involved in taking over small businesses and restarting them. One of those companies turned out to be the old plumbing supply company. I took some of the money I had saved on the side, bought the company and moved it to Brooklyn. I own the place now and it's called Rainbow Plumbing. This past Christmas I was shopping in Barnes & Noble when I came across a coffee table book. One of those big ones that you browse through at friends’ houses on the holidays. It was called "Roadrunners and Drive-ins: Pictures and Poetry from the Right Road". I looked for the authors name and I smiled and thought "beep, beep". Merry Christmas to all. Thanks again to Patti for sending some of the old Mark stuff my way. PS - Sorry for the long post....lol.
  49. 14 points
  50. 14 points
    Merry Christmas from Oscar to all his fellow Pets of the Lake