Southend On Sea

(Blogger's note: I wrote this over a month before Rachel Fuller mentioned that she had grown up in Southend in Essex. I chose this blog title randomly when I first put it up)

I am starting to really miss England. When I find LP covers like this it reminds me of all the adventures I could be having on the little green roads. is it too much to ask God, the world, the Fairy Queen(s) to let me live like Bilbo in a little cottage near Derwentwater?

I'm actually not too aware of the history of Badfinger, hopefully this happy fellow is still with us and finding joy even in columbariums. I realize that if he has departed then that sounds a bit ironic but I become more and more British as I write this.
Golder's Green was the first place I went on my very first trip to England May 1st 1997. Blair had just been elected and it was REALLY hot. A bloke in a full tux helped me find the markers of Marc Bolan, Peter Sellers, Anna Pavlova, Bram Stoker, Freud, Sir John Tenniel and finally Moonie's 'Out Here In The Dispersal Fields.' It is such a lovely place. Brighton is calling too how can I forget being the only straight woman at a Gay BnB and then pretending I was Lesbian to 'fit in!'
It was Bank Holiday weekend and for the first time on British radio. I heard The Who singing 'I'm The Face' as I walked by where the old Brighton Aquarium had once been chaneling those halcyon days of the four WHO ruled. I met Dan Hardie whom I've lost contact with now and he and his partner Steve who kindly let me stay at their flat in New Cross while I looked for work...so much to remember. It was like an adventure around every corner. I gained almost a stone when I was there because I loved the food and it was the coldest June on record . People who claim they hate British food are liars...Oasis was big then and I spent over a hundred quid to see The Who perform Quadarophenia at Wembley. I was in the front row and I actually flirted with Entwistle.
Pete called the crowd "wankers" and Roger pointed my out to Simon as fresh front row meat, when he looked back at me I sneered at Roger-the man who would have my dream job and he laughed at me. Ashdown Forest calls too, Pooh stik Bridge and Tunbridge Wells....

Almost Saturday Night

It has been an enjoyable day. Instead of going to Bootcamp class this morning where we sweat and grunt through vigorous muscle melting drills, I played online and emailed the BBC to support Rachel Fuller's new single 'Into My Heart.' My friends on I on Tribe.net started a Rachel Fuller tribe too. And Bouncer the bunny has a pile of fresh dandelions. I really enjoy the way that the web allows everyone to have a voice if they want one.

Havin Fun All Summer Long

(That's me and Ricky Robinson onstage at The Stork Club in Oakland singing T Rex's 'The Leopards' Summer 2003)
In a few days this blog will become an online monument to my intense physical transformation into a super heroine-cape included. I promise not to bore all of you.For awhile now I've wanted to take my fairly fit physique and push it's knobs to '11.' To be or not to be-that is the question. Not so much an extreme makeover (which is a crock of shit) but a blending of all my ideas , love for the planet and see it combined with a healthy, Boris Vallejolike apperance. As a lead singer of a Who Tribute band www.substitutemusic.com I have to surpass Roger abs. He wore all these cropped tops and spray painted on jeans too. I must compete! And my wonderful Pilates certification that seems to be turning into a stay at Lassa, my new Super heroine life will enhance that as well...please keep reading.

The Search For Wonder Woman

Wonder Woman finally will be coming to the big screen and already names of REALLY skinny minnie actresses are being trotted out to play MY amazon role model. I'm aghast. Wonder Woman has hips. Wonder Woman has a soft countenance. Wonder Woman fights evil not stylists and personal trainers. Linda Carter is to the Hollywood female form what Hendrix was to guitar playing (I guess that makes Raquel the Eric Clapton) just astonishingly fit and womanly. No one should be asked to fill those boots.It can't be done. So Mr. Producer please allow the clowders of little girls who still twirl in front of the mirror with Miss Carter in mind to keep their patron Saint of Starry underwear and invisible jets and make a film about Black Canary instead.Cheers!

Never mind the ineptitude heres BOUNCER!

Okay so I at least get the gist of this photo. thing. This is Bouncer, he lives with my Mom. I found him at train tracks in Richmond just outside of Berkeley on hot day last October. His coat was singed and he was pretty exhausted. I snuck him aboard the Capitol Corridor train #544. Nine months later he's like a plush toy. Bounce has chewed futons, cables and (I swear I'm not making this up) a copy of 'The Population Bomb.'

CALM

Calm

ROLYWHOLYOVER