Angels on a Passing Train

Just posting a link to my piece on Marah for Crawdaddy online. Enjoy. Or not.

Marah: Angels on a Passing Train

Peace.

Vote.

Impeach.

Dice Behind Your Shades

Some of this is true, some of it only marginally so. Figure it out for yourself.

I am a cancer survivor.
I drink too much.
I love cheese and salt and garlic on just about everything.

I can check the oil and drive stick but can't change a tire.
I hate washing my hair but love long hot showers.
Ryan Adams is a genius and so is Paul Westerberg. Neither one of them will talk to me, though.

I stay up way too late and drive when I probably shouldn't.
I am loud and opinionated and uptight.
Most of my friends are men but they don't understand me any better than I do myself.

I am lonely and bitter and confused, and I don't like myself very much.
I have a pretty good sense of humor despite all outward appearances, and I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich.

I used to play the piano but I don't anymore. I wasn't that good at it anyway.
I can sing a little bit but no one ever asks me to anymore.
My favorite color is blue, and I can quote extensively from just about any Barry Levinson movie.

I don't get kissed nearly enough and listen to way too much Hank Williams for my own good.
I like tequila and whiskey and Mexican beer, and can probably drink you under the table if you'll give me a chance. (Alcohol tolerance courtesy many late nights with Mr. Jesse Malin.)

I used to think Hemingway was overrated but lately I think he's pretty amazing. (Though I do think drinking oneself to death like Fitzgerald is an infinitely superior method of suicide than a gun to the head.)

Jon Bon Jovi has a great ass and is a pretty good guy, too. (Hey, we can't all be Townes Van Zandt…)
I think sex is great but there's not nearly enough to go around.
Ipods and iPhones and video games and Blackberries can all go to hell—the best form of portable entertainment is still a good book.

I spend way too much money going out to eat and can't live on a budget to save my life.
I love rollercoasters and bumper cars and hot dogs.
NASCAR confuses me.

We would all be better off if everyone turned off all their gadgets for one hour a day and took a long walk. But that being said, I love my laptop.
I secretly dream of being carried off by a hot young musician. Ok, it's not such a secret.

Happiness is where you find it. So is sadness...