Strange Connections: Good People in Bad Romances

Other than substance addiction issues, one might not think that Bon Scott and Amy Winehouse have much in common. However, both of them were involved to the point of obsession with people who were incredibly bad for them, and although musically speaking they are both artists I can't get enough of, I have to stop listening after a fairly brief period of time because I know what and who they're singing about and it's really depressing.

The other issue is the fact that I can relate all too well to being obsessed with a person who is really, really, really horrible for you. I did it more than once. People think that all-consuming "love" is wonderful. It's anything but, and usually, it isn't really love, it's an obsession. So, yanno, no thanks to ending up in the ER with bloody wrists over some asshole who doesn't deserve my pain. Better to be alone than to be with someone toxic.

Although, unfortunately, in my case, more often than not, I'm alone in bad company.

Plus, in the case of AC/DC, I can only listen for just so long (and that isn't long these days) before I start getting really pissed off about the way Malcolm Young went out. Dementia is the absolute fucking worst, particularly when it takes out someone whose intelligence was a key part of who they were. Malcolm Young was a high school dropout, but he was smarter than a lot of people with strings of letters behind their names.

The late Glen Campbell's wife said of dementia "It's better to die some other way," and she's absolutely right. Fuck dementia.

As Bob Seger once said, sometimes I wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then.

~Cie~

Observations of a Dead World: Burlesque Silliness with a Heartbreaking Ending

Hipster music journalists love to decry this band as a one-trick pony, but they were actually full of surprises. Sure, the same five songs get played over and over and over on commercial radio stations. Even though I was an early fan of AC/DC, I started changing the station whenever "For Those About To Rock" would come on so I wouldn't start hating it. That's how badly that particular song was overplayed.

Musical chops aside (and the musical choppage is strong in this lot) these guys were obviously not professional models. Bon seemed fairly well at ease with striking poses, and Angus is a ham. The others never seem to know quite what to do with themselves.

Mark Evans and Cliff Williams both tended to have neutral facial expressions in photos. Maybe it's a bass player thing. In this particular photo, I'm not sure there was much else that Phil Rudd could have done. After all, Angus was stepping on his head.

I really do wonder what Malcolm was doing, though. Did the photographer tell him to do that? Was there someone up above pouring some sort of beverage down on him and he was hoping to drink it rather than getting soaked by it? Is he performing a Stupid Big Brother Trick and pretending he's going to bite Angus' leg? Did he feel stupid when he saw this picture after the fact?

Although Angus was the one who became (in)famous for stripping off, Bon was the band member who had a tendency to dress like a member of Chippendale's. There are many photos of him wearing pants which looked like they'd been painted on, and he often struck poses indicating that said pants were about to come off.

This incarnation of AC/DC really wasn't around that long in the scheme of things. 

I've likened the way I feel looking at photos of AC/DC to the emotions expressed by the priest in Arthur C. Clarke's powerful story, The Star. The priest experienced a crisis of faith after discovering that the Star of Bethlehem shone as brightly as it did because it had gone supernova, destroying a peaceful civilization.

In some ways, AC/DC had a (crossed) binary star system. There was the band in its incarnation with Bon. This was the beta star in the system. It shone brightly but was short-lived. 

The alpha star continued on for 37 more years after Bon's passing. It started going into its death throes when Malcolm became too ill to perform anymore and collapsed on itself when Brian Johnson was no longer able to continue performing due to hearing problems and Cliff Williams retired because things had become too fucking depressing.

I'm in the camp that thinks that AC/DC needs to rock in peace, to remain a nebula rather than trying to cobble together some sort of zombie version of itself. To be clear, I am not one of those ageist assholes who thinks that only the young and the hawt should play music. I subscribe to the belief that as long as you can and want to play, you should, and most of the truly talented musicians I can think of are not "Hawt." 

Angus and Stevie Young should work on other projects. Whatever they create together ought to be good, because they're both talented musicians. Certainly, there's no problem with them playing AC/DC's material. AC/DC was, after all, half Angus' creation. He was the face of the band while Malcolm was the brains.

Without its brain, AC/DC was a different band. It was still a good band, but the material on Rock or Bust shows the marked change in a band that had lost its leader and one of its key components. Still, the band could arguably continue working under the AC/DC name at that point. Malcolm's replacement, his nephew, had learned much of his technique from the original and had been given the green light by Malcolm himself to take up the reins.

With the loss of Brian Johnson and Cliff Williams, AC/DC was done although Angus Young was still there.

I feel very sad for Angus. Not only did he lose his best friend of a lifetime, but he also lost the project which had been his reason for living for some 44 years. I hope that if continuing to play can bring him some semblance of peace, he will do so. Despite being a broke fuck, I would find a way to support his work by buying his albums. However, I hope he lays AC/DC to rest. Whatever lineup was created at this point would be a hollow echo of the band's past glory.

AC/DC needs to be allowed to fade to black.

~Cie~

AC/DC, doing stuff that got them on the Satanic Panic Shit List.

A Team Netherworld Music History Moment: The Bare-Ass Facts

Back in the early daze, AC/DC's promotional team tried to amp up the band's sex appeal. Malcolm always looked like he felt a bit silly striking sexy poses. After the group started selling albums, his clothes stayed on and properly buttoned.

Angus, however, had a natural affinity for stripping off, and showed enough skin for both brothers. This allowed Malcolm to show off the band's stripped-down sound without having to bare his assets.

The Team Netherworld Music History Archives

Wordless Wednesday Fail: Spiraling Into the Past

Spiraling Into the Past, Version 6

Spiraling Into the Past, Version 7

Photoshop images by The Real Cie

Back in the present, Pepper listened to the strains she'd discovered all those years ago. Then they had been the sounds of freedom and rebellion. Now, although her love for these songs had never died, there was something quaint about them, accompanied by a heart-wrenching sense of loss.

From "Fetch," Team Netherworld's WIP Novel

Dedicated with love to Malcolm Young for everything he made possible

*********************************************

Hello, and welcome to another Wordless Wednesday Fail, where the Real Cie shows images (often things she's done in Photoshop) and refuses to comply with the "wordless" part of "Wordless Wednesday".

Youth is wasted on the young. When I bought this album, I was young (fourteen) and super stupid. I think I really believed these guys would be like they are on this album forever. Older than me but still young enough. Sassy, impish, but nowhere in the vicinity of actual evil, like some morons made them out to be. Actually, in spite of the provocative humor, they were really sweet people who just wanted to make the world a more enjoyable place. I loved that about them.

I never thought that less than a year after I bought this album that Bon Scott would be dead.

I could not have imagined that Phil Rudd would end up a meth addict, estranged from the band and in trouble with the law for making foolish, drug-fueled threats towards a person with whom he had a disagreement.

I certainly never thought that Malcolm Young, who created the band, would have his cognitive abilities destroyed to the point where he could no longer remember the works he created, where he didn't know the brother to whom he was so very close, and where he didn't even know who he himself was.

Y'all can't tell me that this plane of existence isn't Purgatory. I'm convinced that it is. Those of us who are stuck here are just trying to get by. Some of us, like these guys, try to make it a little nicer for their fellow inmates.

Maybe if we all learn the lesson that we need to treat each other a little more kindly, we can get out of here.

~Cie~

Honoring Malcolm Young's 63rd Birthday

In honor of dear Malcolm Young's 63rd birthday, the team took a vote and decided to share this lesser known AC/DC tune, found by Aurora. 

It's heartbreaking that Mal can't remember writing or playing songs like this one, even more that he can't remember the people he was with, including his brother and soul mate. 

We mean soul mate in a platonic sense. Anyone reading something pervy into that statement is, in the immortal words of Bugs Bunny, a maroon.

We also take this time to affirm our belief that those who blather that "AC/DC always sound the same" are maroons. Sure we like the stuff that got radio play, but sometimes deep cuts like this one are better indicators of the band's heart and soul than the more popular stuff. We love the bluesy sound on this one.

Malcolm was AC/DC's nerve center. They are a different band without him. A good band, yes. A band with several of the same key components, yes. A band that he would be proud of, very much so. But nonetheless, a different band. Anyone who doesn't realize that isn't really listening.

We love you, Malcolm. We are sorry for what your illness has stolen from you. We are sorry for the suffering of your family and friends. We know that in the end, you will be free. Your soul will never forget the truth. We believe this in our hearts and souls.

Written by Cie and Aurora

for

Team Netherworld

A to Z Blogging Challenge 2015: T is for Tribute

AC/DC's 1980 album Back in Black was written as a tribute to the band's former frontman Bon Scott, who, sadly, died at the age of 33 after an unfortunate mishap. Unlike the rumors have it, Scott did not choke on his own vomit. He had been left in the back of a car to sleep off his state of inebriation. The weather was chilly, and Bon was a bit asthmatic. As well, he had an upper denture plate to replace teeth that had been broken in a serious motorcycle accident. The plate slipped and further obstructed his airway. The vomit was a reflex reaction by the dying body. It likely would not have killed him had he not already been fatally compromised.

Back on the Chain Gang was written as a tribute to The Pretenders guitarist, James Honeyman-Scott, who died of a drug overdose. He was 25 years old.

This song was written as a tribute Def Leppard's guitarist Steve Clark, whose alcoholism lead to his untimely death at the age of thirty. The scenes set to the song are from The Crow, so the song works as a tribute to Brandon Lee as well. Lee, the son of martial artist Bruce Lee, died in a freak accident on a movie set. He was 28.

~DJ Blooming Psycho~

Stolen Meme About the Infamous AC/DC

I stole this meme from here.

 

Favorite Song - There's this album. It's called Powerage. The whole album is my favorite AC/DC song with Bon Scott on vocals.

There's this other album. It's called Flick of the Switch. It's my favorite song with Brian Johnson on vocals.

You understand what I'm saying? I cannot choose just one song.

Most Hated Song - I don't hate any of their songs, but back in the 1980's, For Those About to Rock was so overplayed that I changed the station when it came on so I wouldn't end up hating it.

 

Favorite Member - I love them all. But this one gives me a special set of feels. And, apparently, I'd like to give him a special set of feels.

Favorite Video - All the live concert footage or just them in the studio. The ones where they hired some other fucker to direct it are hit or miss. Vomit inducing video vixens never set well with me. If I'm looking for an AC/DC video I want to see AC/DC, not a bunch of scantily clad she-slags.

Merch I Own - Too much to name. I'm one day older than dirt, so I've had plenty of time to collect stuff.

Seen Them Live - Three times, and every time some asshole tried to pick a fight with me and tainted the experience. That's never happened with any other concerts I've gone to.
Fans of this band seem to be kind of assholes overall, at least in the U.S., and I don't understand that, because the band members don't seem to be assholes at all.

 

It Ain't Easy Being DJ Cheesy

Happy 60th Birthday Angus Young

Awesome then

Awesome now

Team Netherworld wishes a very happy birthday to one of our favorite people, the awesome Angus Young. He's still just as kooky as ever, and still a nice guy who never let the whole "rock star" thing go to his head. 

We hope Angus senses the big warm hug we're all sending to him, and it makes him smile!

We're featuring the videos from Fly on the Wall, an album which got panned by humorless prats with a stick up their ass. The very kind of people that Angus is the antithesis to, and that's why we love him!

Tempest

for

Team Netherworld

My own playlist that I made with the songs from the Fly on the Wall video set. I always loved this fun little story line!

Bon Scott Appreciation Day 2015

Ronald Belford "Bon" Scott (9 July 1946 – 19 February 1980)

Why this Gritty, Non-Descript Little Man is My Hero

I know everyone is sick to death of hearing me talk about why this man means so much to me and why his horrifying illness is so devastating to me.

 A fuck I don't give. I will speak of it until eternity if I want to.

Ah, your unsolicited opinion regarding the things I care about?

Still looking...

The Daily Post asked me who my hero is. Actually, I have a few, but this one goes way back.

"But Cheese," you might say. "That dude totally does not look heroic. He's really low key. Heroes should dazzle!"

He does. He's just not flashy.

However, even though the music was the first thing I noticed, this isn't why he's my hero. A lot of people are musically talented (although this not flashy musician was kind of special.) That makes them admirable, but it doesn't make them heroes.

It's when I found out about the people behind the music that they became my heroes.

I was one of Those People. 

I was one of those people that other people put down to try and make themselves feel big.

I was ugly, or at least that's what I heard all the time.

So I deserved to be picked on.

So it was said.

I hated myself.

But I loved music.

I loved the raw power of this new music that I'd just found out about.

When I found out about the musicians behind it...

I knew they were making the music for people like me.

They didn't give a fuck about appealing to the cool crowd. They weren't part of the cool crowd. They'd probably been ostracized by the cool crowd, just like I had. 

They didn't approve of being shitty to people who didn't fit in, I could tell that. These guys weren't some trend, they were real. 

Someone like me really needed to know that people like this existed. People who would have been nice to me, even though I wasn't part of the Cool Crowd. People who would have told the people who were bullying me to go fuck themselves.

Gettin' it done low budget pre-MTV style.

"Well, that's all very nice, Cheese," you might say. "But you're a heterosexual female, and I guess the little guy has kind of a cute face, but a woman needs a real Manly Man to be her hero, and this dude looks like he'd blow away in a strong breeze. A hero should look something like this and make all the ladies swoon!"

Image Source

Well, ya know, who doesn't love them some Val Hallen? But what makes a person truly heroic is strength of character, not muscles or epic hair. Now, Val is a nice guy, and he does have strength of character, so I guess that makes him something of a hero. Still, I want to talk about why the little guy is my hero even though he doesn't look like one.

For someone living with mental illness, he was something of a role model. He was very shy, but bravely went into a career which meant being in the spotlight a lot of the time even though he was uncomfortable with being scrutinized. He struggled with depression and managed to overcome alcohol addiction in spite of the fact that without alcohol he would no longer have the ability to have a shot of Sociability.

He was known for being self-sacrificing, and even when he became extremely ill he didn't want to burden others with his problems. He was more concerned with the effect his illness would have on other people than with the effect it was having on him.

That he no longer knows what he did during his remarkable life, who the people he loves the most are, or even who he is breaks my heart in a million pieces. I will never forget him or what he did for a badly bullied, mentally ill girl through his music.

You are my hero, Malcolm Young. I love you. I don't care how saying that makes me look in the eyes of those who are concerned with keeping up appearances. You taught me not to give a fuck about those who look down their nose at those of us who are different. I know you struggled with some of the same things I struggle with. I think you were and are beautiful both inside and out. You are always in my heart.

Love always,

Cie

Aww Monday: Dear Malcolm

So, on Awwww Mondays, people usually post pictures of cute kittens and puppies and such. 

Cute guy with pretty smile is not a kitten or puppy. He does have nice hair. We might want to pet it, but he wasn't anybody's pet. He was an independent thinker, highly intelligent and very creative. So, why are we posting his picture?

He makes us say "awww," but he also makes us cry.

Not because of anything he did. It isn't his fault. He was a nice guy. He didn't like hurting people.

Sure, like anyone else, sometimes he hurt people. But he tried not to.

He makes us cry because he's dying from a really terrible disease. This disease has robbed him of everything. It doesn't even allow him the favor of knowing that people love him. It doesn't even let him remember all the things he created during his very remarkable life.

It would make us sad if he was dying from cancer, but this disease adds insult to injury.

We're posting this picture because we want people to remember him. Not just because he was nice to look at, but because his heart and soul were so very good.

We think you're beautiful in all the ways that really matter, Malcolm. And we're so sorry. We already miss you very much, Baby.

Love and many tears,

DJ Opal

Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds

Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds

I

In an industry that praises a man for being a blackguard

You refused to behave like a swine

You were tolerant, but not amoral

You chose to cleave to what you deemed important

Refusing to be some sort of cog in the machine

Your voice was an understated baritone

Your style in no way operatic

You preferred to let your axe do the talking

Coming up from a humble background

You led the poor in a quiet revolt

By teaching us to be unashamed of who we are

If anyone had ever referred to you

As a knight riding in on a white horse

You would have laughed

But you were a hero to many of us

We saw you as strong in spite of your diminutive stature

Which is why we were shocked when it was revealed just how fragile you are

There was no antecedent to predict

How swiftly and fearfully you would be felled

II

When I found out the reason

Why the world would never again hear your restless thoughts poured out in music

It made me shiver and sway

My soul was left a jittering mess

Tumbling into a sick, hellish abyss

My heart landed in the basement

And there is no consolation

Nor any chance for denial

My eyes are swollen from crying

Everybody knows that something's wrong

I never was any good at hiding behind a mask

This is the worst, the absolute worst

Because not only are there no expectations for recovery

There's nothing left of what you were in your head

Although the curtain's not yet drawn on vital functions

The obituary for your soul's been read

I thought it might be whiskey that would take you in the end

She was the one mistress you had trouble resisting

Because she temporarily quieted the voices of self-doubt

That screamed behind your placid demeanor

Quiet people have the loudest minds

I loved yours

Love it still

Love it always

Cie and Mo

for

Malcolm

Writing Prompts:

Mindlovemisery's Menagerie

The Reverie

Cross-Posted to:
Dream About Me Sweet Brother
(Warning: Blog contains explicit, unapologetic slash/erotic gay fiction)
KHEL 666
Poetry of the Netherworld
Rattling Bones Undead Musician Magazine

Notes:

Morella La Muerte (Mo) is the primary writer on the first poem, The Real Cie is the primary writer on the second.

Mo wanted to use the words from both Wordles but became overwhelmed. She emailed Cie asking for advice. We've been collaborating since five this morning! Three point five hours in, we've finally got it cooked to delicious imperfection.

Delicious imperfection could also describe the subject of the poem, although that sounds kind of lecherous. We actually are referring to his personality. He was flawed, but extremely well-intentioned. He created wonderful things without knowing just how wonderful they were. He was also extremely hard on himself. He never measured up to his own exacting standards.

I doubt we'll ever stop writing about this situation. We certainly will never stop thinking that it's a steaming pile of crap on the part of the Universe. We'd have been sad to have the man killed off, but to destroy his mind on top of it, that's fucking insult to injury. His was a beautiful mind. The world has been robbed of a real treasure.

Ignoring the fact that we have to get a spotlight over here because Angus is taking off his clothes again, could we just for a moment pause and ponder the absolutely solid foundation of this very tasty blues-rock number?

Angus spoke about his admiration for Malcolm's style in a January 2014 article from Guitar World:

"Sometimes I look at Malcolm while he's playing, and I'm completely awestruck by the sheer power of it. He's doing something much more unique than what I do-with that raw, natural sound of his. People like Malcolm, Steve Cropper, Chuck Berry and Keith Richards-they're all doing something better than the rest of us. I can't deny that Eric Clapton's and Eddie Van Halen's lead stuff has influenced a stack of people, but for me it's the rhythm thing that's way more impressive and important to a band.

Malcolm is a big inspiration to me; he keeps me on my feet. Even when I'm tired from running around the stage for two hours, I'll look back at what he's doing and it gives me that boot up the backside I sometimes need."

Absolutely.

What a great loss, not only to the world of music, but to the world as a whole.

Photoshop manip by Cie

Original Eye in the Sky image:

Copyright: zadvinskiy / 123RF Stock Photo

Monday's Music Moves My Broken Heart: AC/DC: TNT Live 1981

We love you so much, Malcolm Young, forever; and my damn broken heart feels like it's gonna fall out on the floor.

Love Always,

DJ Helena

for the KHEL 666 Krew

This week’s theme our spotlight dancer, Joyce Lansky wants ..

It’s called the Brevity Challenge.  

#1 Write ONE sentence or less on your post.

#2 Post ONE song that is under three minutes.

#3 Visit and post a SHORT comment on EVERY blog that follows the rules.

So the video is more like three and a half minutes and I totally don't care. In fact, just kill me or something. I already feel like my heart's been crushed to a pulp. Fact is, the only reason I'm participating in the blog hop is to make people aware of this horrible disease and that people who have it are still people deserving of kindness and respectful treatment; cause I sure don't feel particularly social right now.

~DJ Hell's Belle~

Silly Sunday: Fits for Bipolar As Well

Long as you can keep on keeping on, sometimes the best thing to do is laugh at the effed-up hand you've been dealt. I know that's what I like to do whenever possible!

Bipolar disorder messed up my life in a lot of ways before I learned how to manage it.

I'll never be normal, but, meh, normal's overrated!

Stay silly, y'all.

~DJ Rose~

Six Word Saturday: Words We Can't Say Enough

We love you always, Malcolm Young

Like anyone who allows themselves to age naturally, Malcolm's face became wizened by time. He was a tiny person. However, he never looked frail until recently, and he always looked alert, as if he was taking everything in and processing it, figuring out what came next at all times. In recent photos, that look was gone, as if he was struggling just to get along. It's heartbreaking.

Dementia sucks. It sucks. And then it sucks some more. It robs its victims of their minds, of the light in their eyes, of their ability to recognize even those they loved the most. It robs those who love the sufferer of his or her ability to give the gift of themselves. 

Fuck you, dementia in all its forms. Just fuck you. 

I wish I had something more intelligent to say. Unfortunately, that is how helpless such a condition leaves everyone it touches.

~DJ Blooming Psycho~

Angus and Malcolm Young: Real Brotherly Love

 

We have learned that Malcolm Young's dementia is so fast-moving that his wife had to put him in a long term care facility. He doesn't remember things that happened just minutes before. His short term memory has been totally wiped.

Some of the team have gone through this sort of thing with parents or uncles and aunts, or grandparents. But to endure it with your sibling, your best friend, must be a hell beyond compare.

Angus has said of Malcolm that he felt that Malcolm was actually the better guitarist. He wasn't flashy, he provided a solid wall of sound. But Malcolm, according to Angus, could kick anyone's ass, including Angus', had Angus ever acted like some sort of prima donna.

Malcolm Young put up with no shit. He was scrappy. But he was also a generous, caring soul. He took it upon himself to call Bon Scott's mother personally following Bon's death, so she wouldn't have to learn about the devastating loss from the news. He said it was one of the hardest things he ever had to do, and he agonized over it for a long time afterwards. He believed that Bon told him that he "did good," stating that he felt a hand on his shoulder and the presence of his departed friend.

Malcolm believed in doing the right thing. He once walked off the set of a TV show after they tried to goad him into swearing to make him look like more of a bad boy. He was moved to tears by the crushing death of fans at an ill-planned concert venue with general admission, and was deeply saddened by the deaths of the children at the Waco disaster.

Malcolm was married to his wife Linda since the late 1970's. He has a daughter named Cara and a son named Ross. It would be heartbreaking to see the love of your life and the father of your children decline so badly so quickly that you had to opt to put him in a nursing home because you could no longer properly care for him yourself. It would be heartbreaking to see your devoted father decline into a state where he no longer recognizes you.

For Angus, watching the person who was not only his brother but also his best friend fall into a state where he no longer recognizes those who mean the most to him must be a hell beyond compare. Only two years apart in age, these guys were close as could be. Both stated that they scrapped at times when they were younger, but it certainly didn't keep them from forming one of the deepest bonds we've ever seen. They didn't have to say it in words: they love each other and each would do anything for the other. They were inseparable.

We can only offer our sympathies and our greatest respects. There will never be another Malcolm Young. He was one of a kind. He always had such a spark. Who would have imagined that his life would play out in such a tragic way?

We never know what awaits us. We have to treasure the moment; we truly do. This sort of thing could, sadly, strike any one of us or someone we loved with great depth; perhaps someone we thought would always be there.

A bond like that which exists between Angus and Malcolm Young can never really be broken, not even by a tragedy of this magnitude. Their unmistakable loving filial ties will outlast both of them. A friendship such as theirs is forever.

All of our love to these two iconic brothers. You are in our hearts always.

 

Blooming Psycho

for the KHEL 666 Krew

Breaking News: Tragedy for AC/DC

Our hearts are broken over the news of Phil Rudd's legal and drug troubles and Malcolm Young's retirement from the band he founded and cared for as he would his own child over the years. The post by Mr. Bruce Henne can be found here.
Our hearts go out to the entire band, but especially to Angus Young. It must be heart-wrenching to watch his brother's decline. Several of us have endured seeing our relatives progress into a twilight world. It crushes the soul.
All that can be said is we love you guys so much. Your music has been a great gift. We believe that one day when his time comes, Malcolm will remember what he did, and he will celebrate his triumphs.
We love you, Sweetheart.

DJ Blooming Psycho

for the KHEL 666 Krew

Favorite Musicians of the Netherworld: Bon Scott

9 July 1946 – 19 February 1980

I was just 15 years old when Bon Scott died. It devastated me. AC/DC was my favorite band, and let me confess a little something to you. I loved Bon. Yeah, I know how cheesy that sounds, but I did.

Talk about a match that never would have worked out in reality, that would have been it. But I loved him anyway. I had always been a good Catholic girl, but when I hit my teens, I started to go a little wild.

I wasn't wild with boys, contrary to popular rumors that I had eight abortions by the time I was fourteen. No, seriously, that was a rumor spreading around about me. I don't know how it started, because I was incredibly naïve about sex. I thought a blow job was blowing in someone's ear, and I wondered why the hell anyone would find that activity enjoyable.

I knew how babies were made, but I was scared to death of doing the act that made babies. I didn't want a baby, and I had heard that it hurt like hell to have sex the first time. (At this point I still believed that pain with sex for women was because of Eve and the original sin, and I hated the bitch for it. What I didn't admit was that I was also pissed off at God for being such a douchebag as to do this to women because of Eve being an asshole. Believe me, I was very indoctrinated.) Nonetheless, I did daydream about doing said act with Bon Scott, and I figured I was going to hell, but I liked him (and AC/DC's music) so much that I figured my immortal soul was a small price to pay.

When I found out that Bon had died, I walked through the little Peyton Place town that was home to me and my misery, feeling terribly lost. Nobody in that town understood me. My parents didn't understand me either. I felt like I was an alien who had been lost from another planet and ended up in this fucking miserable place. I was very bullied and very lonely, and I felt like I'd just lost the love of my life. Well, I had, though he didn't know he was.

Bon was known as a nice guy, even if he was a bit of a randy sort. I would dream about him sometimes. I like to think that maybe he felt a little sympathy for a silly, unhappy girl who had a huge crush on him. Maybe he wanted to show me that I had a friend after all. Who knows. The older I get, the less I know.

Though Brian Johnson is fabulous and I can't imagine anyone else filling Bon's shoes, there will never be another Bon Scott. He was one of those people that just can't be imitated. I think one reason Brian worked out so well is because he wasn't trying to imitate Bon. He was just trying to do the best damn job he could.

Brian believes that Bon came to him one night in spirit and stayed for about an hour, helping him finish the songs he was struggling to write. He has said that he doesn't like to talk about this much, because people think he's crazy when he tells this tale. I don't. But I am kinda crazy.

So today, if we'll have a moment of silence for...

Nah, that's not the way we do it in the Netherworld!

If we'll turn it up to 666 and drive down the Highway to Hell, that's the way to honor Bon Scott in a fitting way!

Ronald Belford Scott: Never imitated, never forgotten. Rock in peace!

How I Almost Quit With Just 500 Words to Go

I did it.

But I almost didn't do it.

And I only had 500 words to go.

Why would I fold with that few words left?

Let's just say that I had a bit of a nervous breakdown on the home stretch.

My novel did not start out smoothly. I really had no idea what I wanted to write about.

I decided to write about the lunar aspect of H.P. Lovecraft's dreamlands after being cued by Bon Scott to think about the title to one of my favorite AC/DC songs, "What's Next To the Moon."

Really, I did. I don't care if you believe me or not. I'm telling the tale as it happened. If you choose to believe that this is merely my own perception or delusion, fine. I refuse to debate it. I can't prove that it happened. Conversely, no-one else can prove that it didn't.

Let's move on.

The story seemed very "piecey" at first. It seemed more like a bunch of short stories than a cohesive novel. It didn't start to gel until about halfway through the month. 

It also started to get really personal towards the end. Particularly on the last day. There was a convergence of sorts, and it opened some old wounds.

I had been turned on to the series "The Vampire Diaries" by my writing sister Tempest LeTrope and Mister Sister Adam Everhard. It becomes obvious that uncontrolled vampirism (the "Ripper" mode) is a metaphor for drug abuse. There are parts of the third season that are really hard to watch. Not because of the violence or "horror" aspect, but because certain of the character Stefan's behaviors reminded me of what I went through with my husband.

In the last segment that I watched, Elena (Stefan's girlfriend) says to Damon (Stefan's brother) that they may have to let Stefan go.

That is what I had to do with my husband. 

It isn't just the aspect of watching someone you love destroy themselves. Not every addict is abusive, but with the inhibitions blurred by consciousness-altering substances, anyone has greater potential to become abusive, either verbally or physically.

My husband mostly became verbally abusive. 

In the seven years that we were married, he got physical with me a total of nine times. He never beat me, and I was never particularly afraid of him. His physical abuses tended to take the form of slaps or pushing.

The verbal abuse was another story.

When my husband was doing heroin (he did cocaine as well, but less often) he became a different person. He thought that he was invincible and thought that he had been blessed with special gifts. He was a talented artist, but his real motivation was his next high.

When I met him way back in junior high, he was one of the cool kids. I wasn't terribly popular, but I garnered at least fake acceptance from the "cool" crowd when he brought me into the circle. He was a good-looking guy with dark hair and dark eyes. He always had a mischievous smile. I thought he was cute, but I was already crushing on someone else.

Our friendship turned to romance in our sophomore year in high school. Everyone thought we'd be the couple to beat the odds.

At that point, he was only smoking pot and drinking at weekend parties. So was everyone else, me included. I didn't see any kind of problem.

He joined the Army right after high school. It was the mid 1980's, a peacetime setting, so I wasn't worried. He wanted to learn a skill, to get some money together for college. It made perfect sense. He did his four years and came home, and we got married. 

At first, everything was great. A little over a year after we married, I was pregnant with our daughter. There started to be signs of trouble. He stayed late after work a lot and came home smashed. Initially I suspected that he might be cheating. I guess I could say that he was, but not with a woman at this point. The women would come later.

When I found out about the heroin, I demanded that he give it up. He did for a time, after our daughter was born. She was eight months old when I got pregnant with our son. Once again he started shooting up. He claimed he was only smoking pot, but I knew better. There was yelling, throwing of dishes, lots of crying on my part. He started calling me names, telling me that I was holding him down, being the "bitchy wife."

We had been married three and a half years and had two kids when he started fooling around with other women.

I tried to hold things together, tried to believe that he could kick the drugs, tried to believe that if I just loved him enough, I'd be able to bring him back from the edge.

In the end, I made the decision to walk away.

I told him that he couldn't see the kids until he got clean and stayed clean. He got mad and called me an evil, fat bitch. He said he didn't know how he could ever have been so desperate as to have sex with me. He said it to hurt me, but it did cause me to lapse into bulimic behavior, which I struggled with on and off for the next six years.

He would stay clean for periods of time but always eventually relapse into his old habits. I never let him have the kids overnight. When he was clean, I trusted him to take them to or pick them up from school.

I dated for a little while after my marriage ended, but always managed to pick guys that were far from ideal to bring around my kids. One turned out to be scary enough that I almost considered getting a restraining order. Luckily, he moved out of state.

I stopped dating fifteen years ago and see no reason to resume, even though my kids are adults now. I hate it when people tell me "not to give up" because the "right guy" could be around the next corner.

He's not.

So, to wrap things up...

The little experiment that started as a frustrating hodge-podge turned into a massive emotional bleed-out at the end, and I almost cashed in my chips.

I've decided that I'm actually going to try and organize the story into something cohesive. It does have potential.

I listened to a lot of HIM while I was writing the story. I also listened to AC/DC, of course. I listened to Morcheeba, and Korn, The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Loreena McKennitt, Enigma...

I want to share the HIM album Love Metal. Because yes, I do. It's gotten me through a lot of really tough times.

Thanks for letting me Bogart the Blog, Sisters and Misters. We will return you to your regularly scheduled insanity tomorrow!

Love,

Sister Helena

(Cross-posted to Undead in the Netherworld)

Betrayed

This picture comes from this website, which has some very important information on violence in teen relationships. 

I chose it because to a degree it expresses what I feel inside.

Because of the fact that nobody pays attention to what I say at this point, I feel comfortable expressing something that has been eating at me for years.

There are people in this world who don't feel like they've won unless they've destroyed someone else in the process.

They did come very close to destroying me. But I'm still here. Not unscathed by any means, but I am still here.

I no longer feel like I have something special to share with the world. I'm creating again, but I'm keeping it close in. I will not be sharing any of it.

As for the subject of my ill advised book.

Yes, I did come to love him. And fancy that, certain people who I trusted with that truth were hell bent on fucking that up for me too.

He and I are no longer in contact with one another. He hates me now, and I feel nothing but numb sorrow when I think of him.

You think I could ever forgive the people who brought this about?

They will never be forgiven.

What's next to the moon? The idea that I will ever find love.

Correction--that's somewhere in another fucking galaxy.

So now you fucking know.