Tuesday, June 9, 2015

A Monkey Opens Up About Her "Social Anxiety" - What Happens Next Will Amaze You! True Confessions of a Half Ass Monkey That's Gone Over The Edge and Lived to Tell

I don't consider writing a quiet, closet act
I consider it a real physical act
When I'm home writing on the typewriter I go crazy 
I move like a monkey
I've wet myself, I've come in my pants writing

Patti Smith 

I started this blog/ journal a while back, but the original post I have decided to hold off on publishing. I've decided it will be more of an ongoing journal of my life. Yes, I lack direction as a writer. But my passion as a storyteller is fierce. Braces yourselves, many cannot handle the truth...

Xana come back again...In 2012 I moved back to Seattle from New Mexico. I was taken to a small venue in Pioneer Square, probably the last time I was there now that I come to think of it. I would move to West Seattle within a few months and began to build my virtual world of monkeys, crows, music, art, tacos...anything and everything that my mind had soaked up over the years. I began to see life differently. Like some sort of hex had been lifted. You might say I got my smile back. 

Privileged to be embraced and what I thought was a small group of people who still loved music. One of my favorite aspects of this rich and exceptionally valuable experience was interacting with all of the people who had been around the Seattle scene since the 80s and who knew my  " old friends " from then ...some who are now known as Grunge Hero's and well you get the point. 
These individuals who share the same memories of the old grunge days and were my first view into what had been going on it Seattle all the years I locked myself away. I eventually found the artist-like Ben Ireland. ...people who had been and still were a part of the tight-knit avantgard community.

I would go and film any event I could find and get to, by bus if I had to.  I would observe some of the greatest performers in Seattle not realizing who they were and how they were all connected.  As a relative novice and outsider  at this point, I would sit and watch in awe. 

With little or no knowledge of who these musicians really were I was not expecting greatness but I found it. I had no   preconceived ideas about what to expect, so there was no feelings of intimidation and fact I found many of them to be quite normal-could it really be that there were good Seattle musicians who were not junkies? Had jobs and wives and kids and were happy and not all whiney like Kurt? 

As my imaginary world became a reality in the form of a website, and I was exposed to a larger more intricate web of people intertwined who'd been playing in Seattle music scene for many years , I witnessed what appeared to be a remarkable balance of passion and hard work.  These musicians could express themselves wholly without apparent inhibition or concern for anything besides playing music. Could it be that grunge was still alive?! 

There were bumps in the road.... I needed to make a big decision on how much of my past I should reveal. I, like many women have a hard time maintaining healthy friendships with women. It has not been easy trusting females who can easily Google me and read stuff that may or may not be true. THey see me, see my life and are sometimes jealous of my life. If they only knew. I get it, it's just silly though. I truly believe any person can be anything and one only has to want it bad enough. 

   I read something recently talking about a friendship that had gone bad. One lady was accusing the other of being " passive-agressive ". The writer, a columnist for the Seattle Times replied with this. Maybe your friend " lacks emotional intelligence " which is not the definition of an " introvert " . Introversion=drained by social interactions. Extrovert=energized by it. Someone who is " introverted can be just as lousy a friend, claiming to " hate confrontation " by avoiding an uncomfortable conversation "  as a passive-aggressive " friend if their mode of communication is to be punitive and defensive. She said " People are just as entitled to give up on a merely annoying and exhausting friendship as they are a bad one. Lastly, labels are suppose to clarify not obfuscate. I will touch more on this later, just know that I know you know, I gots problems! 


Saturday, May 9, 2015

Doomed Love At The Taco Stand~by Hunter S. Thompso~Short Story Month on Xanaland

Oct. 11th (HOLLYWOOD)
Going to Hollywood is a dangerous high-pressure gig for most people, under any circumstances. It is like pumping hot steam into thousands of different-size boilers. The laws of physics mandate that some will explode before others--although all of them will explode sooner or later unless somebody cuts off the steam.
I love steam myself, and I have learned to survive under savage and unnatural pressures. I am a steam freak. Hollywood is chicken feed to me. I can take it or leave it. I have been here before, many times. On some days it seems like I have lived at the Chateau Marmont for half my life. There is blood on these walls, and some of it is mine. Last night I sliced off the tips of two fingers and bled so profusely in the elevator that they had to take it out of service.
But nobody complained. I am not just liked at the Chateau, I am well-liked. I have important people thrown out or black-listed on a whim. Nobody from the Schwarzenegger organization, for instance, can even get a drink at the Chateau. They are verboten. There is a ghastly political factor in doing any business with Hollywood. You can't get by without five or six personal staff people--and at least one personal astrologer.
I have always hated astrologers, and I like to have sport with them. They are harmless quacks in the main, but some of them get ambitious and turn predatory, especially in Hollywood. In Venice Beach I ran into a man who claimed to be Johnny Depp's astrologer. "I consult with him constantly," he told me. "We are never far away. I have many famous clients." He produced a yellow business card and gave it to me. "I can do things for you," he said. "I am a player."
I took his card and examined it carefully for a moment, as if I couldn't quite read the small print. But I knew he was lying, so I leaned toward him and slapped him sharply in the nuts. Not hard, but very quickly, using the back of my hand and my fingers like a bullwhip, yet very discreetly.
He let out a hiss and went limp, unable to speak or breathe. I smiled casually and kept on talking to him as if nothing had happened. "You filthy little creep," I said to him. "I am Johnny Depp!"
Outside on the boulevard I saw a half-naked young girl on roller skates being mauled by two huge dogs. They were Great Danes, apparently running loose. Both had their paws on her shoulder, and the gray one had her head in its mouth. But there was no noise, and nobody seemed to notice.

The Devil~A Short Story by Guy de Maupassant~ Short Story Month on Xanaland

Guy de Maupassant was a popularFrench writer, considered one of the fathers of the modern short story and one of the form's finest exponents.
Maupassant was a protégé of Flaubert and his stories are characterized by economy of style and efficient, effortless dénouements(outcomes). Many are set during the Franco-Prussian War of the 1870s, describing the futility of war and the innocent civilians who, caught up in events beyond their control, are permanently changed by their experiences. He wrote some 300 short stories, six novels, three travel books, and one volume of verse. His first published story, "Boule de Suif" ("Ball of Fat", 1880), is often considered his masterpiece. Read more about his fascinating life as a writer here

The peasant was standing opposite the doctor, by the bedside of the dying old woman, and she, calmly resigned and quite lucid, looked at them and listened to their talking. She was going to die, and she did not rebel at it, for her life was over - she was ninety-two.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Words & Music by Rane Stone~ A Lyrical Tribute to Andrew Wood

I asked Rane to write something for Andrew, on this day --
the 25th anniversary of his death. I love it! I think it's honest
and spontaneous. Humorous and insightful. It's perfect and
I can't wait to hear it put to music.
Siempre, Xana 'Stargazer' La Fuente

City Monkey Meets Country Monkey in the Emerald City ~A Grungy Children's Love Story

She was an artist from the high desert. She listened to Kate Bush and loved the movie Wuthering Heights.

 He was a city monkey who grew up listening to KISS and played bass in a band with his brother. 

On a sunny summer day, they met at the farmers market. She, of course, in chartreuse regalia, and he in '70s corduroy jeans. Moments before that, she had looked out at the water, watching the large freight ships and thought of absolutely nothing.

Monday, January 19, 2015

Words & Music by Johndus Beckman~on Great Song Writers of Seattle

We love great music, lyrics and story-telling on Xanaland, and we especially love cheeky little monkeys like Johndus who emanate passion and achieve soulful songwriting that inspires many-- especially other musicians. Please enjoy these 3 songs with their lyrics. Johndus is the singer of The Mothership as well as several other Seattle music projects.

Gotta Go by Johndus Beckman