M is for Myg

Live your god damned dream

Archive for March, 2008

You Don’t Know What You’re Missing

Remember that fantasy you have of me in a cheerleader’s uniform dancing on a leopard-skin chair? Well, you’re going to be disappointed that you missed this past Monday night at Clockwork. The game was “Should It Stay Or Should It Go,” which consisted of me pulling out random items from my inventory and those in attendance voting “Stay” or “Go.” (The cheerleader uniform was a “stay,” the leopard chair a “go.”) Other items of note:

Viking Helmet: Go
Cowboy Hat: Go
Bondage Table: Stay
Sex Chair: Go (too tacky)
Long blue hair: Go
Checkered jacket: Stay
Squirrel on face: Go
Dog that ran away: [ran away]
White lollypop: stay
Something that was called a shirt but was really just kind of a trapezoid on my boobs, WTF?: Go
“Irish woman undershirt”: Go

But besides that, the music! What will you hear? Well, put it this way, when we all get to Heaven and they’re passing out the ’77 Camaros and GTO’s, the leather jackets, and the combat boots, this is what will be playing on the car stereos. The ecstatic glory of rock n roll.

The fun usually starts around 6:30ish SLT and goes for a couple of hours.

I’m Esteban Moody and I paid for this ad.

Kill City | 24 March 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

Ted Nugent: Free For All
Sweet: The Ballroom Blitz
Kiss: Strutter
Journey: Any Way You Want It
The Patti Smith Group: So You Want To Be (A Rock ‘n’ Roll Star)
Radio Birdman: Descent into the Maelstrom
The Modern Lovers: Pablo Picasso
T. Rex: The Groover
Motley Crue: Too Young to Fall in Love
Naked Raygun: Peacemaker
Sex Pistols: Holidays In The Sun
Gang Of Four: Armalite Rifle
The Psychedelic Furs: Sister Europe
Thunderclap Newman: Something in the Air
Queen: Look Back In Anger
The Aliens: The Interpreter
Motorhead: Ace of spades
The Meatmen: Mission:Impossible
The Dickies: You Drive Me Ape (You Big Gorilla)
New York Dolls: Trash
Jerry McCain: Next Door Neighbour
Wanda Jackson: Whole Lotta Shakin’ Going On
Buddy Holly : Oh Boy
Buddy Holly: Ting-A-Ling
Gene Vincent & The Bluecaps: Red Blue Jeans and a Pony Tail
Cliffie Stone: Jump Rope Boogie
Peck Rowell: Take It Easy Greasy
Bob Dylan: Positively 4th St.
The Fugs: I Saw The Best Minds Of My Generation Rock
The Vibrators: Baby Baby
The Ramones: Carbona Not Glue
The Jam: The Modern World
The Buzzcocks: Orgasm Addict
The Three O’Clock: Jet Fighter
Thavius Beck: (Music Will Be) The Death Of Us All
Billy Thorpe: Children Of The Sun
The Beatles: All You Need Is Love



Jelly wrote about it today and it got me thinking. Why haven’t I been going into Second Life?

Quite honestly, I’ve had a lot of other stuff I’ve had to do and have wanted to do. Some personal, some professional, and some other. 

I’ve been working a lot. And strangely with the onset of daylight savings time, I’ve been a lot more interested in my work. That’s a good thing because for most of the winter I’d been really depressed about my work life. I recently stopped having clinical cases and instead I’ve been wrapping my brain around environments (real, physical and interpersonal ones) and trying to understand why they make us do the things we do. I don’t know where I’ll go from here, but I’m not uncomfortably bored and unchallenged where I am at the moment, and that’s really important. Never underestimate the power of a little sun.

I’ve been writing my novel again, and that’s where a lot of my creative energy has been. Blogging here at M is for Myg has taught me that I can write consistently in short spurts. So I set the goal to write two pages a day on my novel, and I’ve been really good at sticking to it. Two pages may not sound like much, but if I stay on this schedule I’ll have my first draft done in May. That excites me like I can’t even tell you. I’ve been working on this novel since 2004!

I’ve also been obsessing about politics. I have traded my SL addiction for a compulsive Dailykos habit. If you’re not a rabid progressive who thinks Barack Obama is the only obvious choice for president, then don’t even bother going there. Unless you’re on the fence and want to be convinced. Or want to argue and get a royal smack down.

One last thing.  I didn’t make a big deal out of it, but last Friday was M is for Myg’s 1st birthday. I am really proud of that and it wouldn’t be possible without the most excellent contributions from Esteban Moody, Sable Slade and Rain Laval, Xaxoqual Mandelbrot, Alex Burgess (remember him?), and in the way back of this blog, Vanny Richez and Lisa Takao.

It sure as hell wouldn’t still be here if it wasn’t for those of you who continue to read it. I just want to say thanks for that. It’s hard to explain how much that means to me, but let me put it like this.

Good blogging requires a writer to commit a piece of themselves, to surrender it publicly to the scrutiny and criticism of anyone on earth with a computer. It’s a powerful act, and not one devoid of intellectual and emotional consequences, however trivial the subject matter may appear. These blogs contain our ideas, and what are we if not ideas and feelings?

That’s why Second Life is so amazing to me still. You are almost purely an idea there, with your physical package stripped away and instead, represented by an image of mostly your own mind’s creation.

When you come and participate in M is for Myg as a reader or commenter, you let me and my friends know that on some level our ideas – we – matter. Even when you disagree with us or don’t like us.

Thanks for that. I needed it.


Blogged with the Flock Browser

A Letter to the Sun

Dear Sun,

Sometimes I think it strange that I continue to write to you — or even that we have corresponded at all. Here I am, a hermaphrodite DJ in Second Life, you, a giant ball of fire 93 million miles away. You are 4.5 billion years old, and the temperature at your core reaches 13 million degrees Kelvin. In the morning, your rays stream through the slats on my venetian blinds and illuminate the little constellation of dust floating above the glass of water on my bedside table.

I saw you yesterday — warm and bright in the afternoon sky. I can’t tell you how happy I was to see you. The winter here is gray and overcast. (Remember what I told you about the atmosphere here — all nitrogen and oxygen!!) Did you see me? I know you can barely make out my little speck of a home, but I jumped and waved anyway.

O Sun, here’s the reason for my writing: did you know that some days — today, for example, I have trouble going on? The simplest things seem a struggle — and thus of course they are a struggle. I feel like some hero of classical myth beset by enemies, confounded by obstacles — like Dorothy in the field of poppies, for example:

They now came upon more and more of the big scarlet poppies, and fewer and fewer of the other flowers; and soon they found themselves in the midst of a great meadow of poppies. Now it is well known that when there are many of these flowers together their odor is so powerful that anyone who breathes it falls asleep, and if the sleeper is not carried away from the scent of the flowers, he sleeps on and on forever. But Dorothy did not know this, nor could she get away from the bright red flowers that were everywhere about; so presently her eyes grew heavy and she felt she must sit down to rest and to sleep.

But the Tin Woodman would not let her do this.

“We must hurry and get back to the road of yellow brick before dark,” he said; and the Scarecrow agreed with him. So they kept walking until Dorothy could stand no longer. Her eyes closed in spite of herself and she forgot where she was and fell among the poppies, fast asleep.

“What shall we do?” asked the Tin Woodman.

“If we leave her here she will die,” said the Lion. “The smell of the flowers is killing us all. I myself can scarcely keep my eyes open, and the dog is asleep already.”

It was true; Toto had fallen down beside his little mistress. But the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, not being made of flesh, were not troubled by the scent of the flowers.

“Run fast,” said the Scarecrow to the Lion, “and get out of this deadly flower bed as soon as you can. We will bring the little girl with us, but if you should fall asleep you are too big to be carried.”

So the Lion aroused himself and bounded forward as fast as he could go. In a moment he was out of sight.

“Let us make a chair with our hands and carry her,” said the Scarecrow. So they picked up Toto and put the dog in Dorothy’s lap, and then they made a chair with their hands for the seat and their arms for the arms and carried the sleeping girl between them through the flowers.

The poppies are inside me, of course, a vast, lush and colorful field rooted deep in the soil of me. My internal Tin Woodman and Scarecrow are there too, most of the time, to carry the Dorothy of me through to the next clearing, but always the lion of me is left behind. He runs, but the flimsy poppies always get him.

Do you remember, Sun, how the lion is saved? The Tin Woodman saves the life of the queen of the field mice by beheading a wildcat — and so her squeaky little subjects, tens of thousands of them, express their gratitude by pulling the lion out of the field on a wagon that the Woodman fashions from nearby trees. Each of them brings a bit of string with which to make a rope.

O Sun, where are the field mice of me? Today, did my Tin Woodman miss and chop off his own head instead of the wildcat’s? (Do you remember that the Woodman beheaded himself once? It was the last of him, I think, to be chopped off and replaced with tin.) Without them, my lion slumbers on to death!

Sometimes, without the mice, a certain music will rouse the lion, for I am Esteban Moody, purveyor of the true funk. Praise the lion with the sound of the trumpet: praise him with the psaltery and harp! Praise him with the timbrel and dance: praise him with stringed instruments and organs! Praise him upon the loud cymbals: praise him upon the high sounding cymbals!

But today the music is not working, so I write to ask your help. O Sun, help me to open the heavy lids of the cowardly beast! I know a piece of your great fire burns inside him. Will you make it burn bright and and hot enough to wake him? In the distance I can see the tall turrets of the Emerald City, but without my lion I am helpless.



Funk me, it’s Friday! | 14 March 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

The Deacons: Sock It To Me Part I
The Deacons: Sock It To Me Part II
G.R.I.T.S.: Jan Jan
Groove Armada: I See You Baby (Fatboy Slim Mix)
Run-D.M.C.: Sucker MC’s
Cookin On 3 Burners feat. Kylie Auldist: Settle The Score
James Brown: Hot (I Need To Be Loved, Loved, Loved, Loved)
Jackie Moore: Singing Funky Music Turns Me On
The Jaggerz: Born Poor
Ides of Time: K-Car for Sale
Bonnie Pointer: Free Me From My Freedom/Tie Me to a Tree (Handcuff Me)
Laura Lee: Women’s Love Rights
Georgie Fame: Beware of Dog
Jackie Mittoo: Ghetto Organ
The Lions: Givin Up Food For Jah
Johnny Hammond: It’s Too Late
Jackie Wilson: You Left the Fire Burning
The North Philadelphia Juniors: I Know Jesus Is Calling
Brenda Holloway: Every Little Bit Hurts



Sable and I couldn’t stop stealing, it was addictive! We decided to spend a little of our ill gotten cash. First we got private tennis lessons….

Then we bought a little boat….well hello captain!

We attended all the glamorous Hollywood parties.

Had wild orgies with the hot captain…..

But then…..it all came to an end….who knew the hot captain was an undercover cop!

What we are wearing:


CS Vogue Skin – Winter Series – Winter 1 – Cashmere

Hair – HCT – Palo – Deep Red

Outfit #1 – Affame – Activ Tracksuit – White

Shoes – Reaction Girls – Sparkle

Outfit #2 – Alchemy- Innocence – Light Blue

Shoes – Storm Schmooz – Laque – Black
Gown – Simone – Showboat in Red

Hair – ETD Juliana – Smoke

Lingerie – Foo Roo Lingerie – Red & Black Summer Bra


Skin: Celestial Studios Vogue Skin-Glitter Burgandy (Cashmere)

Hair: Armidi – The Ginza- Orchid

Outfit #1: Nyte & Day-Tweedy

Shoes: Reaction Sparkle

Outfit #2:Top: Artilleri-Mahana (dress)
Shorts: <3C! Shorts Pack #2-White

Shoes: Shiny Things-Retrohoochie Pumps-White

Sunglasses: Tickled Pink-Sasha

Gown: Simone-Premier in Rose

Hair: ETD Alexandra-Blonde

Lingerie: Intimizzio Aufiori Chambre Shee Set-Chocolate


Hair: ND-Jake, Brown Pack
Skin: ND-Gabriel, Golden Tan

Reaction 3-Quarter Pants
Reaction Flip Flops, Chocolate

PrimOptic Sunglasses-Reban style

Last Call: Renaissance Tux

Shiny Things: City Walk Shoes, Black

Moderno Underwear, Sapphire

Las Vegas Police Raid Shirt, by Halsted Beck
Purchased on SLExchange


Pinch Hitter

I noticed Myg got tagged. I’ll pinch hit:

1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

Nearest book: The Story of the Typewriter 1873-1923. Page 123 is a list of the phrase “To save time is to lengthen life” typewritten in 84 languages. So:

1. Demboraren irabaztia, biciaren luçatzia da.
2. Econmizar tèms es allargar la vida.
3. Temps ganga fa longo vido.

Tag, you’re it: Chestnut, Kit, dandellion, Wrath, & Argent!


The sedge has wither’d from the lake

Dear Myg,

You know I know how it feels. How does it work? We want one thing; we do another. Who’s in charge? Who’s the commanding officer here? I remember when I quit smoking: there was one in my hand again, even though I had told myself no.

I told myself no. Funny that that even makes sense. Why would the I need to tell the self? Isn’t it supposed to be the self in the first place? I told myself no, but my self did it anyway.

The usual story is this: the self does it anyway because the self lives in a fantasy world — or wants so much to live in a fantasy world it acts as if the fantasy were real. When my mother died, my father took us back to Ireland and turned to the drink. My great-grandmother made him dandelion tea for his nerves. On May Day, she scattered primrose petals on the stoop and smiled at me sideways. “So the fairies leave the cows alone,” she said. Some flowers were not allowed in the house and she cured the dog’s limp with comfrey and vinegar. One night my father fell into a ditch on the Shangarry Road and was attacked by a swan — a pen defending her chicks. After that night, he never swallowed a drop.

But what if it were the other way ’round? What if the self’s drive for addiction were its way not of striving for fantasy but of holding up a mirror to Real Life? Everywhere we look, the world tells us to surrender to addiction. Television. Sex. Money. Youth. In Real Life, addiction is what it means to be alive. It follows — doesn’t it? — that Second Life is where we keep addiction at bay. Of course these things are tricky, and sometimes with what’s Real and what’s Second, we may lose track of the wisdom to know the difference.

When in doubt, I look for the ditch with a swan in it.



Funk me, it’s Friday! | 29 February 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

Wild Cherry: I Feel Sanctified
Brothers Johnson: Get The Funk Out My Face
The Isley Brothers: It’s Your Thing
Room 5 Featuring Oliver Cheatham: Make Luv (Extended Mix)
Prince: Kiss
Tom Tom Club: Genius Of Love
Fred Wesley & The J.B.’s: J.B. Shout
The Unemployed: They Won’t Let Me
Calypso King & The Soul Investigators: Raw Grapes
Chambers Brothers: Funky
Voices of East Harlem: For What It’s Worth
Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings: How Long Do I Have To Wait For You? (Ticklah Remix)
Stevie Wonder: Maybe Your Baby
Aretha Franklin: Groovin’

Funk me, it’s Friday! | 7 March 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

Earl Van Dyke & the Soul Brothers: The Flick Part I
Earl Van Dyke & the Soul Brothers: The Flick Part II
The Delegates: Pigmy Part 1
The Delegates: Pigmy Part 2
James Brown: Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag [Parts I and II] [instrumental]
James Brown: I’m a Greedy Man (Parts 1 & 2)
The J.B.’s: The Grunt (Parts 1 & 2)
Rufus Thomas: The Breakdown (Part I)
Rufus Thomas: The Breakdown (Part II)
Bobby Franklin’s Insanity: Bring It On Down to Me – Pt I
Bobby Franklin’s Insanity: Bring It On Down to Me – Pt II
Vicki Anderson: The Message from the Soul Sisters (Parts 1 & 2)
Isley Brothers: That Lady (Parts 1 & 2)
Billy Preston: Greazee Part I & II
Lou Donaldson: Funky Mama [Parts 1 & 2]
Don Covay and the Goodtimers: Can’t Stay Away


All manner of poison

all kinds of poisons

It fucks with me. It really does.

On the one hand, it’s this social, creative outlet. A community of people I love and enjoy spending time with, even if that time is translated through a fiber optic network at high speed.

I look at my Second Self and I say, “that’s me.” And it is. It’s often closer to the biological me than you might realize. In fact, what I’m wearing in that photo, how I’m sitting, it’s nearly identical to how I’m sitting as I type this and the clothes I’ve got on this frigid mid winter eve. The vodka bottle is steps away in a kitchen cabinet and sounds a better idea the longer I type.

On the other hand, it’s this black hole of productivity and time. The more time I spend online, the less I get done in my life. I resent going to work. Laundry sits in heaps on the floor. The dishes pile up around the sink. I don’t write music anymore. I struggle to write anything other than blog posts here, even though I consider myself a writer.

Do you know you can get addicted to anything?

When I spend a lot of time online, my brain feels the same it did when I was addicted to cigarettes. Owned by something, not me. Duller. Scattered. Unable to concentrate deeply on anything. I’m one of those lucky people who can be addicted to something and still keep my shit marginally together. I can still get to work, do my work just barely well enough to not get in trouble, get the laundry done when I’m out of socks and underwear. That sort of keeping my shit together.

But I can’t get anything meaningful accomplished. Like I got the novel started but I can’t get anywhere with it. I had the idea for a song, but I can’t pick up my guitar and bang it out. I keep meaning to call that friend who I blew off at Christmas time, and it’s almost March but I haven’t made the call.

Any one of those things, if I did them, would make my life better.

I don’t know that I can honestly say the same about the internet.

It’s not Second Life, actually. I can get compulsive about Second Life but usually I don’t. More than that, I get compulsive about blogging. I get obsessive about this blog, but I also compulsively check and read other blogs throughout the day too. Sadly, I can surf on the internet forever. It’s a lot worse than television. And I always feel so useless when I do it.

It’s like I don’t want to miss any of the conversation. But I feel I’ve got less and less to add.

I’m not going away. I’m just explaining. If every few months or so you see the posts here slow down, it’s because I need a break.

That’s not a break from you though. You, I miss.