God I hate that I have diabetes. I need to go and get my blood tested this week to check my A1c number (which reflects my average blood sugar levels over the past several months), and I think my number might be in a bad range. Also, my daily blood sugar levels (when I prick my finger) are higher as of late. Although I’ve lost a good deal of weight when I was first diagnosed last year, I still need to lose fifteen or twenty pounds more to be where I want to be, and it’s a struggle. I guess I have food issues as I tend to want to overeat. On the positive side, I haven’t gained back any of the weight I’ve lost and I’m exercising by walking these days, and that’s a good thing, but I still need to be in better overall shape. The scary part about diabetes is that a person can feel perfectly fine until there is a problem and then it can be too late, and people with diabetes are much more likely than the rest of the population to develop heart disease or have a stroke, not to mention there can be kidney disease, eye disease, neuropathy and tissue damage (which can lead to limb amputation). It’s a bummer.

In response to a sexual morality book written by an American nun considered to be too lenient on masturbation and homosexuality, the Vatican stated yesterday that masturbation is an intrinsically and gravely disordered action and that homosexual relations are acts of grave depravity. This once again proves, in my opinion, that the Catholic Church is still living back in the dark ages and that the pope (the same pope who ignored cases of child abuse by Catholic priests)  has his head up his ass.

It was exactly 31 years ago tonight that Red Wedding made its debut at the Brave Dog, and I remember it all as if it were yesterday. The club was very crowed that night, and I was extremely nervous, shaking in my boots and holding on to Clare for dear life (Clare literally had to push me up onto the stage). We opened with the “Red Wed Theme” (our own twisted version of “Here Comes The Bride”) and as I stood there on the tiny stage (so tiny that I could not move in any direction) I was still visibly shaking and I decided not to try and hide it, rather I made it a part of my performance, the frightened and nervous singer. After our opening theme song, we went right into “Pink Night Mirrors,” and because I could not move, I focused on using my hands in order to act out the song. Other songs in the set that night included “Candle On My Cake,” “Think About It,” “Drums,” “Capsules of Love” “In Between” “Marsha In Pictures,” and for a cover, we did our own version of Lou Reed’s “Vicious.” The audience (which included a lot of Hey Taxi fans) was very supportive from the very first note, and I could feel their energy and enthusiasm growing with each number and my nervousness dissipated. I felt totally in control that night. I also felt very real on stage. That is, I wasn’t pretending or playing to the audience, rather I was simply being myself, a story teller sharing dark and romantic stories that contained real elements of my life and the lives of those around me. After we finished performing, I dashed out back to the parking lot to smoke a cigarette and Craig Lee (from the band The Bags) followed me. He told me that he thought our performance was wonderful and he wanted to set up an interview with us for the L.A. Weekly. I felt on top of the world.

I was always nervous at our gigs, not so much on stage, but before and after. I couldn’t handle having people around me especially when people would get right in my face, sometimes several people talking to me all at once. My poor brain just couldn’t handle the attention, the feeling that everyone wanted a piece of me. It caused me to have severe panic attacks, and so I would go out of my way to avoid people at the clubs, often hiding out in dressing rooms or surrounding myself with a circle of trusted friends. I guess that’s why I got the reputation for being aloof. To those of you who protected me … thank you. It was not an act.