I am feeling a bit low this evening as my darling boyfriend of over 5 years, Mike Stinson, has decided to make a move to Houston, Tx to keep his country music dream alive. When we first started hanging, the alt-roots-Americana-country scene was in full swing in L.A., and Mike was the well-known King of Hollywood Honky Tonk. I silently thanked my long lost pal, Gram Parsons for turning me onto the country music greats back in The Day, or I might never have come in contact with one of the Great Loves of my Life.
But lately the roots scene has dwindled to almost nothing and Mike needs to be heard. I completely understand why he has to go, and I encourage his courage and bravery to pack up all his cares & woes, George Jones records, Merle Haggard posters, guitars and cowboy suits and try to make a brand new start in another town. But it makes me so damn sad. We are best friends as well as being wildly in love, and yikes, I’m gonna miss that closeness and understanding, hilarity and love-of-the-same-music that we share. It’s times like this that I have to rely on my hard-won spiritual strength and inner guidance.
I do believe I have actually learned that to accept WHAT IS, may be the ultimate lesson in life. If you don’t accept the cold hard (or warm soft) facts, you slam up against that infernal wall until you bloody yourself and not a damn thing will change. So, Mike is driving off into the very bright sunlight and I accept it. I’ll be lonely and probably pace ’round and ’round my pad, especially on the weekends, but I will get through it. Houston isn’t on the other side of the world, thank goodness, and I’m sure I will accrue lots of frequent flyer miles winging my way to that reddest of states to gaze into the hazel-brown eyes of the man I love.
I do have a swell trip coming up which will hopefully take my heartache temporarily away. This Thursday, I will be winging my way to Roma, darlings, one of my very favorite places to be! I am being honored (yippee!) at the “Just Like a Woman” festival in Genoa, Liguria ~ a divine seaside town, where I shall be wined, dined and feted. How lucky am I? And my groovy Italian publicist, Alex Izzo has secured tickets and passes to see the BOSS! I know that for 3 hours plus I will be dancing up a storm in rock & roll heaven…