Favorite Musicians of the Netherworld: Bon Scott

9 July 1946 – 19 February 1980

I was just 15 years old when Bon Scott died. It devastated me. AC/DC was my favorite band, and let me confess a little something to you. I loved Bon. Yeah, I know how cheesy that sounds, but I did.

Talk about a match that never would have worked out in reality, that would have been it. But I loved him anyway. I had always been a good Catholic girl, but when I hit my teens, I started to go a little wild.

I wasn't wild with boys, contrary to popular rumors that I had eight abortions by the time I was fourteen. No, seriously, that was a rumor spreading around about me. I don't know how it started, because I was incredibly naïve about sex. I thought a blow job was blowing in someone's ear, and I wondered why the hell anyone would find that activity enjoyable.

I knew how babies were made, but I was scared to death of doing the act that made babies. I didn't want a baby, and I had heard that it hurt like hell to have sex the first time. (At this point I still believed that pain with sex for women was because of Eve and the original sin, and I hated the bitch for it. What I didn't admit was that I was also pissed off at God for being such a douchebag as to do this to women because of Eve being an asshole. Believe me, I was very indoctrinated.) Nonetheless, I did daydream about doing said act with Bon Scott, and I figured I was going to hell, but I liked him (and AC/DC's music) so much that I figured my immortal soul was a small price to pay.

When I found out that Bon had died, I walked through the little Peyton Place town that was home to me and my misery, feeling terribly lost. Nobody in that town understood me. My parents didn't understand me either. I felt like I was an alien who had been lost from another planet and ended up in this fucking miserable place. I was very bullied and very lonely, and I felt like I'd just lost the love of my life. Well, I had, though he didn't know he was.

Bon was known as a nice guy, even if he was a bit of a randy sort. I would dream about him sometimes. I like to think that maybe he felt a little sympathy for a silly, unhappy girl who had a huge crush on him. Maybe he wanted to show me that I had a friend after all. Who knows. The older I get, the less I know.

Though Brian Johnson is fabulous and I can't imagine anyone else filling Bon's shoes, there will never be another Bon Scott. He was one of those people that just can't be imitated. I think one reason Brian worked out so well is because he wasn't trying to imitate Bon. He was just trying to do the best damn job he could.

Brian believes that Bon came to him one night in spirit and stayed for about an hour, helping him finish the songs he was struggling to write. He has said that he doesn't like to talk about this much, because people think he's crazy when he tells this tale. I don't. But I am kinda crazy.

So today, if we'll have a moment of silence for...

Nah, that's not the way we do it in the Netherworld!

If we'll turn it up to 666 and drive down the Highway to Hell, that's the way to honor Bon Scott in a fitting way!

Ronald Belford Scott: Never imitated, never forgotten. Rock in peace!

Regarding Borderline Personality Disorder

Here is an article about borderline personality disorder which may help some of you understand why I am the way I am.

Nobody understands that for me its torture every day of my life not to be earning my keep in some sort of creative fashion. However at least my job allows enough "down time" that I can write while I'm at work most of the time. My mother, for instance, scoffs at this and believes that it's okay to confine one's creativity to a hobby. She doesn't understand my "obsession."

 I am not saying that this is an explanation for any of the spiritual stuff which happened to me. I am simply saying that I took on far too tough an assignment, so to speak, for someone with my fragile psyche. 

I believe that the spirit person with whom I feel I had contact also suffered from this disorder among other issues. I still feel a companionable sympathy for him, but I am not willing to discuss my experience in dealing with him any more. I am only now beginning to recover from the verbal and psychic assaults that I endured because of this revelation. I do not regret meeting him and I no longer regret writing the book, although it will never again be made available by me. I do, however, regret making myself as vulnerable as I did. I may one day open my blog to comments again, but that time is not now.

As well, the people who pushed me so much that I stopped writing didn't "get" what they were doing to me. If one is very sensitive, it may not make sense, but if you keep pushing at them you destroy who they are. So for those who did this to me (I don't think I still have any of those frenemies on my roster) thanks a lot. Every time one has to deal with such people it makes it a little harder to trust.

I'm done ranting about this at length, but for those people who had an agenda to make my writing partner your pet ghostie at whatever cost and who along with their enablers attacked my abilities to the point where I doubted myself so that I couldn't even contact my late father after he departed this Earth--which is something that I very much would have benefited from--thanks a fuck of a lot. Both for that and killing my writing abilities for all this time due to doubts. 

Hope you are really proud of yourselves. I wish that karma were instant, but although karma may not get you right away it will get you someday. Then you will know just how it feels to be crapped on the way you crapped on me, who stupidly facilitated you because I so doubted myself. Well, those days are gone. I am a little less trusting but a lot more willing to stand up for myself. And by the way--he is still not and never will be your pet. There is a huge difference between charity and communion. Just so you know.
Also, just because my particular abilities are not identical to another psychic's does not mean that I don't have abilities. I am an empath. I still am, and I am still a writer, no matter how much it may have meant to some of you to try to kill those abilities in me.
Okay--rant done, perhaps.