ode to stevie

Ode to Stevie

“You could be my silver springs
Blue green colors flashin’
I would be your only dream
Your shining autumn, ocean crashing
And did you say she was pretty
And did you say that she loves you
Baby, I don’t wanna know

I’ll begin not to love you
Turn around, see me runnin’
I’ll say I loved you years ago
Tell myself you never loved me, no
And did you say she was pretty
And did you say that she loves you
Baby, I don’t wanna know
Oh, no
And can you tell me was it worth it
Really, I don’t wanna know

Time casts a spell on you, but you wont forget me
I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me

Time casts a spell on you, but you wont forget me
I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me
I’ll follow you down ’til the sound of my voice will haunt you
(Was I such a fool?)
You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

Never get away
Never get away
Never get away.”

— Silver Springs, Stevie Nicks

Three decades after the fact, Stevie Nicks’ fierce, impassioned anger at being wronged by Lindsey Buckingham still radiates out from her being and swirls about her like a mist. This now 60-something, still stunningly beautiful, raging harridan stares him down — conjuring up the righteous anger of every woman who has ever been fucked over, betrayed, or abused by the man she loves…and drawing on the sheer force of her musical incantation, she takes aim right between his goddamned eyes, and unleashes thirty years of rage.

You can see on her face and hear in her voice that, even after all this time, she is still not fucking around; a woman scorned may forgive…but she never, ever forgets. Every time I watch this video and she gets to the part where she looks him right in the eye and sings, “I’ll follow you down til the sound of my voice will haunt you…”, the hair stands up on my arms and I feel a force surge through me that is so primal, so ancient, so powerful, I can’t even describe it.

I read somewhere that Stevie Nicks has said she hoped her songs about Buckingham would ensure, for all time, that he’d never be able to forget about her. You just know that when he’s toodling down the Pacific Coast Highway — on his way to The Malibu Country Market on a sunny Saturday afternoon with his little kids strapped in the back of his Mercedes SUV — and this song comes on the radio, his dick shrivels up and the top of his skull is torn off and he’s immediately transported right back to the 70s and the hellish midst of the agonizing, harrowing turmoil that was his doomed love affair with Stevie. By virtue of still being able to endlessly fuck with him like that over the many miles and the many years — along with the way he all but genuflects to her as she rages at him in front of the thousands of people seated in that arena — I’d say she wins. His fate is sealed for all time. There is no escape for him.

By their very nature, women are shrewd, vindictive creatures. Because historically we have been denied access to positions of power and influence and because, for the most part, men are bigger and stronger and can physically overpower us, women have been forced to evolve, adapt, and develop an entirely unique set of survival skills. You wanna get drunk every night, fuck my best friend behind my back, slap me around, and then come after my kids, you pathetic worm? Go right ahead. But you gotta sleep sometime, motherfucker — and when you do, you better do it with one eye open.

Because in the past we have been forced to be patient, to wait our turn, to not overstep our bounds, to be good girls, women will lie in wait…we will bide our time. We’re good at it. If we find ourselves in an untenable, intolerable situation, our attitude is, “That’s right, asshole, keep bringing home your paycheck and feeding my babies and thinking you are getting away with something.” And I’ll smile sweetly at you like nothing in the world is wrong — I might even make you something to eat, or fuck you — and well. But I got a little message for you, pal: You won’t win. You will be forever hunted and haunted and tormented by the fact that you had a good woman — and you fucked it up. And you see this ass? You better get a real good look at it as I walk away…because you are never ever ever gonna have this again. In the end, a woman will always win. Always.

We are the witches. We are the healers. We are the mothers. We are the whores.

We are the ones who bring about peace, or die trying.

We are the ones who hunt, subdue, and take down men — not on the field of battle, but through ingenuity and murmurs, soft skin and seamed hose, intelligence and timing.

We are the ones who bring light to the caves, and birth both kings and poets.

We are the ones who whisper spells and incantations a hundred times a day — even if we aren’t aware that we do so: “Drive carefully.”, “Have a good day!”, “Have sweet dreams.”, “Be good.”

We are the ones who weep at the mouth of the grave, and bury our children who die fighting the meaningless wars of men.

We are not the destroyers of worlds, like men are — we are the portals through which the silver spring of life itself stretches on and on, both back and forward, into eternity.

We are the ones who carry the power of the cosmos within us in ways that men could never even begin to comprehend.

We are women — and we rule the fucking world.

About muffybolding

Muffy Bolding is a mother/writer/actor/knitter/feminist/withered debutante who likes the smell of asparagus pee, and remains obsessed with the bathroom hygiene of her three children -- despite the fact that they are 23, 19, and 16. She is blissfully married to a cute Jewish boy who looks like Willie Wonka, but remains tragically in love with the dead poet, Ted Hughes. She has the mouth of a Teamster, and her patron saint is Rocco (pestilence relief.) Ms. Bolding lives in Southern California, where she enjoys typing words, making movies, and plucking the rings from the fingers of the dead. She was the co-creator and Editor-in-Chief of the award winning satire zine, Fresno Lampoon, and in between writing screenplays, carnival barking, and savagely threatening her trio of darling larvae with a wooden spoon, she currently publishes the zine, "Withered Debutante." More of her work can also be found in the anthology, "Mamaphonic: Balancing Motherhood and Other Creative Acts", the compilation zine, "Mamaphiles III: Coming Home", as well as in The Cortland Review and hipmama.com. She is currently writing and producing for film and television, and working on a book of essays entitled, "Inside A Chinese Dragon." She has slept around, but not nearly as much as she would have liked.
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6 Responses to ode to stevie

  1. carole says:

    O, holy shit, Muffy, I am almost weeping. I’m reposting your brilliance. xoxox

  2. muffybolding says:

    i love you, miss carole. thank you for your lovely, kind words. xoxo

  3. Omy says:

    Damn, woman. You have rocked my world. Beautiful, this is. Brilliant even!

  4. Pingback: ode to stevie | k a r a h ~ l i n

  5. k a r a h ~ says:

    Stunning! You steal my heart , you have such great personality!!!!

  6. k a r a h ~ says:

    Reblogged this on k a r a h ~ l i n and commented:
    This Is A Favorite Blogger of Mine ~

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