What Happens When You Ask for Help, Sometimes...

So my cat urgently needs a treatment that will cost $1325 and NO I am not soliciting funds. But I have been going to various funding agencies, trying to get some help to pay this bill. Not good timing, at all. But I won't go into that.

However, HERE is what happens (sometimes) when one starts checking at various "emergency pet funds".

First of all, due to the fact that SO MUCH MONEY was drained out of the American economy directly into the coffers of Halliburton and other Iraq invasion beneficiaries, as well as to individual rip-off CEOS, Wall Street dudes, Bankers and other criminals, MANY pet funds have almost dried up. So cross at least 30% off your list right off the bat.

The few that still ARE accepting requests want the minutae of your life, down to the last detail. It is very invasive, to say the least. I am waiting for someone to ask for my medical file. I am sure that is next. Or a list of every job I've held, for own long, did I quit or get laid off or fired? Or maybe detailed info on my love life?

Some fund reps take advantage of people asking for help by being downright abusive. They figure YOU will take the crap, right, cuz you are desperate? Well, not always. I hung up on one woman today. After about seven minutes of her aggressive, condescending voice, I just could not take another nasally nasty comment. And I really did not want to scream at her. Or no, I really did. Want to scream. But thought perhaps better to hang up than totally burn that bridge (I can always say I lost the connection...).

Some people are touchingly kind. One person, on government assistance, offered $5. I declined. Seriously, I just cannot take money from someone on a fixed income, even if my cat urgently needs this procedure to survive. (RadioIodine treatment for hyperthyroid--the meds were causing serious liver problems and she was taken off them)

But the end result of all this is that it occurred to me that at least in the Boston area, it is really "not done", you know, asking for help. I once asked two city employees to walk me across the BU bridge (half of it, really). I was at the end of my rope due to the abusive pricks at MIT and in the middle of an anxiety attack. Do you know what they did? This lovely man and woman, who probably go to church faithfully every Sunday (or not) laughed at me, and ridiculed my plight.

Fortunately, just as they walked on in their hilarity, a European student on a bike passed by and very kindly stopped to help me.

I know, Boston is full of pricks. Even the Globe has written articles about this. But some of the people I have spoken with this week are from other parts of the country, and also not so nice.

So I am thinking maybe, just for spite, I will start asking people for help. Simple things, like, "Would you mind carrying this heavy bag up the T stairs for me?" Or "Could you tell me where Garden Street is?"

Just for the hell of it. Just to freak people out. I know, I know. In other communities such questions would be considered quite ordinary, and in the case of heavy bags, I would probably not even need to ask.

But around here the policy seems to be "Do it yourself or phoque the hell off!" (a phoque is a seal in French) Last September I must have asked 10 Harvard students if they could check an address of a church on their iPhones before I finally gave up and asked a Haitian cab driver for help (my phone had no internet).

An older Haitian woman had asked ME for help to find the church, where she could get some shoes (hers were completely threadbare). The cab driver kindly offered to drive her to the church, free of charge. But the rich students were just too damn busy (or not, One said "Uh, my reception is not that good" as he clicked through his email).

So here is my plan. Just to stir up some manure and create some excitement, I am going to suddenly turn even more radical! I am going to try EACH and EVERY day to ask someone for help!!! Please don't arrest me for this! I know it is REALLY REALLY STRANGE. But that is my plan. Change the world, one "Could you help me?" at a time.

Three Good Local Boy Bands for Dancing Your Socks Off

So I am going to recommend three good local "Boy Bands", and I am referring to these bands as "Boy Bands" in a futuristic sense. About ten or fifteen or twenty years from now (Good Goddess, will it really take that much longer?) most bands will be fully integrated with women instrumentalists ("Wow, SHE'S a kick-ass guitarist" will be commonly heard) as well as vocalists, and people of all stripes, colors, ages and ethnicities. At that point, a band made up only of men will be an anomaly, and thus called a "Boy Band" as we do now with those very rare "Girl Bands" in existence.

For fun and dancing and virtuoso musicianship when you can catch them, local super group Giant Kings plays Lizard Lounge in Cambridge and other venues. Next chance is Lizard Lounge on St. Paddy's Wednesday and the two Wednesdays following. Really excellent musicians, R&B/Soul covers of tunes previously covered by the likes of the Fabulous Thunderbirds, Wilson Pickett, Elvis Costello, Dr. John and even Frank Sinatra. Tight rhythm section, virtuosity throughout--look especially for Duke Levine's grittier guitar solos and Kevin Barry's slide guitar. And personally, I love the Baritone and Tenor sax riffs. Not to mention Chris Cote's soulful vox and reeeelaxed hosting. Just got to dance!
http://www.lizardloungeclub.com/main.html
To get on a notification email list, contact guitarist/band leader Duke Levine through MySpace. http://www.myspace.com/dukelevine

Thursday nights at the Cantab Lounge in Cambridge, catch another boy band, the Chicken Slacks, with horns, keys and a really great lead singer, Durand "Diamond D" Wilkerson. Be prepared to be squashed by the mostly young college kids, and don't let them knock you right into one of the band's monitors, as almost happened to me one night. This is a very popular weekly Cambridge event. But the set list is great for dancing, and hey, maybe a little squashing is good for your health. Old school soul and R&B, mostly up-tempo, perfect for lifting your spirits on a dreary March evening, or when some girl or guy has really let you down (worked for me, anyway!) http://www.cantab-lounge.com/index.html
Here is their myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/chickenslacks

For outdoor fun during warmer weather, check out The Peasants in Harvard Square. This is Pete Cassani's baby, and he is the writer of some really great tunes, including my favorite, Frat Boy. Listen to the lyrics carefully. They are hilarious, and pretty damned accurate. In The Peasants, lead guitarist Pete always plays with a bass player/back-up vocalist (these days Dave Lieb) and a drummer (varies). Aside from the originals, which range from angry break-up songs to astute (and funny, as in, "you might as well laugh or you'll cry") social commentary, The Peasants do covers of Beatles tunes, Jimi Hendrix, all kinds of great classic rock. And Pete is truly a virtuoso guitarist. I've personally witnessed more than one dazzled would-be rocker asking, "Do you give lessons?". (Yes, he does) Schedule varies, but usually you will find them at The Pit near the Harvard Square T exit on a Friday or Saturday evening, playing always no louder than 80 decibels (Cambridge Arts Council rules...). Occasionally other gigs elsewhere. You can check schedule at http://www.thepeasants.net and from there contact Pete to get on an email list for reminders.

So you see? I'm a feminist, plenty of justified anger at the males of this world (including some men who, like Margaret Thatcher, for some reason LOOK like women). But I can still appreciate good music. Especially when it makes me dance.

Something Really Funny and Nice Happened Tonight

So there I was, riding my bike through Porter Square, bundled up, freezing to death, trudging along, the bitter wind pushing against me. Suddenly I felt a very gentle arm around my waist, behind my back, and I turned to see that a cute male cyclist was riding along right next to me.

I laughed, and said, "WHAT are you DOING?"

He said, "I'm giving you a push."

I said, "Why?" and "Thanks!" at the same time. We both laughed.

I guess he could tell my legs were slowly freezing into a solid block of ice. And decided to give me a hand.

How weird, for Boston/Cambridge. For someone to be just NICE. Must be something to do with the moon. Or the mess at NBC late night! Or the economy? Or the extra-terrestrials have finally gotten their world-wide mind-evolution program fully underway at long last?

So then I went to Shaw's/Star market and bought a lottery scratch ticket for $2 and won $5!

Yay!!! Sometimes it helps to be happy for small miracles.

I still cannot believe someone in Cambridge was nice enough to give me a hand without me even asking for it. Wow. (OK, it has happened before, but not NEARLY often enough!) Thank you universe, and nice guy on the bike. I needed that!

Cambridge Clones, Ghosts and Marching Bands

OK, So I have tried, I really have, to be more open-minded about the clones who populate Cambridge, MA. I have gone out dancing at Cantab on Thursday night. As long as I focus on the Chicken Slacks (the Thursday band) and my dancing, I'm fine. But the minute a blond Cambridge clone hits me in the head with her elbow and I'm therefore forced to look around to let her know she might want to NOT do that again, to avoid a bar brawl with me, I am dismayed to find that yes of course, the bar is filled with Cambridge clones. It's like some kind of "Village of the Damned" nightmare, vacant eyes and empty gestures with a great soundtrack.

Today I went to Oktoberfest in Harvard Square. Also Honkfest, plenty of small marching bands playing some funky tunes. Pretty good musicians, and WOMEN playing trombone and drums. YAY! But.......somehow even the Allston hipsters strike me as clones, in their own hipster way. Cool funky clothes but no vibe, no feeling, no depth, nothing there.

Someone told me once that the strange thing about people in Boston (which includes Allston and Cambridge) is that, although one can see they are PHYSICALLY occupying space, they actually don't seem to BE HERE at all. So I guess the problem is I am trying to relate to ghosts.

But wait a minute. I do NOT mean to insult ghosts. I lived with one for 15 years in Montreal. He was a sad thin twenty-something man, dressed in WWI army fatigues. When I first saw him, I thought maybe the shrooms from my teenage years were kicking up some dust in my brain, so I didn't mention it to anyone. But then a roommate, somewhat irate, demanded to know why I had not informed her there was a ghost living in my flat. When she described him, yes, it was the same man. And guess what? My ghost friend had MORE depth, more vibe, more gravitas, more LIFE than most of the Cambridge clones. Wow. How weird is that.

Maybe I need to move to Mexico. The people down there have light in their eyes and magic is in the air. Oh, but the police are horrible...that's another story. For now I'm just thinking of a long trip on a train (I love trains, traveling on them, meeting people, watching the countryside roll past) to unknown parts. Even NYC. Just desperately need to feast my eyes on a few REAL people, talk to some really smart NYC cab driver about how the economy is going to totally tank in a few years (this really happened in 2005). And try to erase the image of the sad, empty-eyed Cambridge clones from my brain. Vampire energy suckers, that's what they are. And I am really sick and tired of having my energy drained by these vampire clones. Maybe I WILL start wearing a garlic necklace to protect myself. Or, just move the hell out of Cambridge. SOON!