Order Now! That Man in the Gold Lamé Suit: Phil Ochs's Search for Self
About Me
Tequila Lips
Got your attention, didn't it?
That header is the title of one of my songs and of my first CD. The opening line is: "She was a tom-boy wearing ballerina shoes." A later line goes: "A little love is better than a kick in the ass, nothing this good ever really lasts." Yes, those seventeen words pretty much reflect a pessimistic, even a fat
Got your attention, didn't it?
That header is the title of one of my songs and of my first CD. The opening line is: "She was a tom-boy wearing ballerina shoes." A later line goes: "A little love is better than a kick in the ass, nothing this good ever really lasts." Yes, those seventeen words pretty much reflect a pessimistic, even a fatalistic, outlook, but what the hell. Even a good life can be difficult and have its up ands downs. Mine has, but more ups than downs. I've been fortunate.
Words, whether written, spoken, or sung define much of my life and who I am. From the very first song I sang in public ("Sixteen Tons") in my first grade music class "talent day" through middle and high school English themes; from an early career in retail sales through 34 years of full-time college teaching; from the first book I published, the first song I ever wrote, the first political commentary I ever made on radio or television to the first CD I ever recorded; and from the first thought I ever spoke out loud in therapy, words have been central to my life, my self discovery, and in conveying my self to others. Words have brought me joy, anger, hurt, self-awareness, transformation, and, even some regret. Words have been and continue to be my "superpower," which I admit to having used for both good and, unfortunately, a bit of evil too (thus the regrets).
Oh, and the cat in the picture? That's not me. But if reincarnation is real, I hope to come back as a pampered house cat. Perhaps if the gods (assuming there are any) believe I have lived a good life overall, they will grant me my wish.
The cat is Curly. He crossed the Rainbow Bridge a number of years ago. Curly was my feline soulmate. For 17 years we were one spirit. He guarded my lap against all intruders. My lap belonged to him. It was his safe place and preferred resting place. As he slumbered in my lap, I found peace, calm, and rest. When his time came to cross over, he was resting in my lap. It was the last act of love and friendship we shared with one another.
Curly was my best friend and buddy. He loved me unconditionally, and I returned that love, perhaps even a little more intensely than is normal. He was a special, magical, one-of-a-kind cat that I was fortunate to have come into my life, and one like I will never see again. I miss him and always will.