I think you all know how much I LOVE Rob Brezny, the coolest astrologer on the planet? Well, I just fired off a letter to him. I never write fan mail, but this man has brought me so much comfort, joy, and inspiration that this is the least I can do, well, other than buying his book. And he goes to Burning Man. How great is that?
I need to do more of this; surrender my ego that wants to get some small thing out of everything, and simply thank people I do not know and may never meet for the wonders and blessings they have brought into my life. I know that the letters you have sent me have meant the world to me. I treasure them and keep them close. I'm looking at Heidi's/RopeDancer's drawing of her living room right now.
I hate the idea of writing fan letters to celebrities, because I don't like to think of myself as being on the fan end of the communication. I want to be the star -- typical Aries, typical me. But that's changing. Letters are wonderful, they can be little arrows of love, and why not send them out? Who cares if the person I send them to responds to them or even sees them. The point is in the sending, because then the grateful, happy, admiring energy has been released and sent their way. Maybe it will encourage them to keep doing the wonderful things that they do. Maybe they'll feel it in some way, maybe not, and maybe all of the happy letters sent will combine energies and counterbalance some of the mean hateful letters that negative people send.
My beloved Scott, who is Songmon here on Live Journal, got a really mean one this week, Lord knows he could use some e-mail love if you have any spare energy to send his way. He isn't going to put it on his journal, or his website, but I see the need to share this.
Here's the exchange, and this came out of the blue, and for no reason at all, from an anonymous stranger. I have their e-mail address, and would love to mail bomb him, (Ohhh catch me being sexist, not fair, not fair at all, I take it back), but I've been advised not to encourage naughtiness, or fan any flames by posting these things, so I'll just leave off the e-mail addy, ahhh well;
"This stuff has as much in common with reggae as Jimmy
Dean pure pork sausage has with the Chief Rabbi of
Can you believe someone would be this mean to a fellow human being, a struggling artist who is just doing their best to channel their muse? It's as if it were designed to be as spare and hurtful as possible, like some kind of smart bomb to the heart. And just in case you missed it, new age mystic though he may be, Scott's Jewish. What's with the pork sausage reference? Weirdness. I told Scott that along with all of the good comments and supportive e-mail that he's been receiving, he's bound to get a word or two from a few angry nuts. I think you can look at this as being a sign that you've arrived. When they start getting mean, it might just mean that they're getting jealous.
Here's what Scott wrote back:
"Excuse me, anonymous abusive asshole, but who the fuck are you to judge me?
Easy to write hate mail when you're not accountable; hard to spend hundreds of hours to make the music.
And...here's what I shouldn't have written, but couldn't stay my hand from doing -- you know sometimes it's just too hard to take the high road;
"Well, Hey there CRabbit@yahoo.com, (oh, whoops, I included his e-mail, spank me), you Fucking Asshole! I'm responding to your cruel e-mail -- the one you sent to my best friend calling his beloved music essentially a pile of shit. What do you get out of being so mean to another human being? No one asked you to critique Scott's music, and certainly not in this vile way. To my nose you're the only thing that's execrable around here.
BTW are you anti-Semitic? Are only black men allowed to sing reggae? Are you that fucked up and backwards? Are you a dumb-ass redneck, or just a lonely hick nerd with a computer? Never mind, I already know. Apologize before I sick every teenager who ever hacked into a computer system on your hateful ass."
No need to remind yourselves never to get on my bad side. I know I shouldn't have lowered myself, but for some reason I just couldn't stop myself. It's the scrappy little fighter girl in me who can't bear to see someone she loves get clobbered.
Oh and I finally got copies of the Woman's Day Gardening magazine we're in this month, phew. I'll scan it and put it up as soon as I can.
From Fuck, Fuck, Fuckitty, to La Dee Da, Woman's Day Gardening, yep, that's me -- human to the core. "We're all made of stars."
Big loving hugs from your Wacqui friend,