Social Discourse: Music to Work By

It's Friday and it couldn't come quick enough.

I am sitting here so tired I can't think. I am still in my pajamas at Noon, eating my way through the stress of work, and listening to Jimi Hendrix strumming "... and the wind cries Mary."

Next, it will be "Hey Joe. Where you goin' with that gun in your hand?" Very appropirate and why you might ask? In the immortal words of my mother "I am gonna kill me a kid."

When I am slaving away over a hot keyboard, worn to the bone and unable to bring forth one creative thought from my haggard brain, I turn on music. LOUD music.

And subsequently tick off my son.

Today I am writing/coordinating/pieceing together through blood and sweat, project on end of life issues. What a way to start off the weekend, eh?

So, of course I am plugged into The Doors, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Dylan and the Band. Story tellers driving their music with guitar riffs of refection with overlays of lyrics that make you feel something.

Well it's either this or Gwen Stefani telling me "this shit is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S." I am a woman of extremes. And, I like Japanease cheerleaders in love with blonde Americans and apparently fruit.

So, I am wondering what we all listen to when it's just too dark to see (the weekend at least). (Yes, this as cheesy come on for comments. Post button below.)

For me, in order to write just about anything, save venting frustration, I have to get in a mood. Something perking, brewing, bumping, forcing me to put myself in a frame of mind that brings the issues I need to consider while I pulling together my thoughts.

It also drowns out Harry screaming "MOMMY STOP SINGING!!"

Why is it that kids despise their parent's rocking out? How I could I, the kewlest mom in the Universe, be an embarrassment? Especially since I am the ONLY one in this clan who can name music from ALL the friggin' bands with T-shirts on Hop Topic's wall.

Now, the OTHER thing I have to have to be creative in any way is Coke. Regular, red label, old formula, glass-bottle cold Coke. I can't explain it. I write a few words, stop, drink and read. And bob my head and then sing and read. And then the fun starts, indeed.

Harry: Mommy stop singing!
Mommy: Harry, I can sing. It's my house.
Harry: No my house. Mommy, can I have a Coke?
Mommy: You can have a sip of my Coke, yes.
Harry: Mommy, turn that music down! I don't want a sip. I want a Coke!
Mommy: Harry, I don't want to turn the music down. And you can have half a Coke. Go get one.
Harry: Mommy turn down the music. TURN IT DOWN!
Mommy: YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME!!

Okay, I never thought I would be saying that at this stage of my life, especially to my kids. And maybe rock doesn't produce the mood I want -- rebellion. But at least it forces one little autistic boy to speak his mind. And that's not a bad thing at all.

So without further adeiu, let's all take a swig of your beverage of choice, and enjoy some rock. Me? I am about to crank my buddy Mr. Mojo Risen and L.A. Woman and wait for Beer-thirty.

Well, I just got into town about an hour ago
Took a look around, see which way the wind blow
Where the little girls in their Hollywood bungalows

Are you a lucky little lady in The City of Light
Or just another lost angel...City of Night
City of Night, City of Night, City of Night, woo, c'mon