How to Get Your Fair Share of Abuse

For some odd reason…working for ourselves with no ties to anyone…seems to give us what we are aching for!  I have etched out a living doing the following:

Cover of Christine (Special Edition)

30 hours=care taking a house that needs far more care than taking.  Yet, it is a lovely ride in the country Zen and often a lyrical trip through the fields of mayhem on a tractor  used as a stunt double for Stephen King’s Christine.

20 hours=slugging away at the Life and Times of Aging Parents and their oh, so, quickly, aging daughter.  Here, a country bumpkin lesbian is offered moist muffins times three or four times a week.   And, goodness knows, all lesbians love a good damp muffin.

40 hours=struggling away at the keyboard, the bent over a barrel of too much acid in the 80′s and 90′s imagination and writing to the heart’s content of an online newspaper.  Indeed, you can never write enough breakfast reviews for New Hampshire.

20 hours= paying it forward at a RYO Mom and Pop store down the alley way and across the tracks to the good side of bad little New England towns.

For the most part, I own myself, which is not too much to brag about.  However, it has allowed for the following observation:

When you own yourself and own your do’s and don’ts…there is just one boss.

Somehow or another it seems that like a well shit upon bed of flowers…the blossoms of bosses seem to grow with every thorn when you find yourself working for the MAN and/or WOMAN!

Today, I entered my little job, flying under the radar, working a little for someone else and taking in the ambience of story telling to turn around and use for myself.  As the job and the stream of ideal ideas of tales unfolded before me…my once, I have one boss, turned to two, flipped over to three and soon sprung into four.

And, she told two friends, and she told two friends, and she told two friends.  Had the moment been a commercial the Double Mint twins would have turned into a bit for Three’s Company meets Who’s the Boss and engages with the Walton’s on Acid running a family store.

You Can’t Always Get What You Want (Photo credit: Sister Ray)

I tend to babble and hold resentments when my bosses become more than I can count on two hands.  Therefore, I leave it all…in the hands of persons better suited for telling it like it is:

I saw her today at the reception
A glass of wine in her hand
I knew she was gonna meet her connection
At her feet was a footloose man

You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometimes well you might find
You get what you need

And I went down to the demonstration
To get my fair share of abuse
Singing, “We’re gonna vent our frustration
If we don’t we’re gonna blow a 50-amp fuse”

You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometimes well you just might find
You get what you need

I went down to the Chelsea drugstore
To get your prescription filled
I was standing in line with Mr. Jimmy
And man, did he look pretty ill
We decided that we would have a soda
My favorite flavor, cherry red
I sung my song to Mr. Jimmy
Yeah, and he said one word to me, and that was “dead”

Who’s the Boss? (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I said to him

You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You get what you need

You get what you need–yeah, oh baby

I saw her today at the reception
In her glass was a bleeding man
She was practiced at the art of deception
Well I could tell by her blood-stained hands

You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You just might find
You get what you need

You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You just might find
You get what you need