blonde in a brunette's world

Saturday night and I am waiting in my room to see the "big show" of the year. Fuck, if you live in Bloomington and you have not heard about this production you must seriously live under a rock.

It depresses me more than I can say that shows like this sell out and I cannot get 10 people to come to my productions. So I will go. I will applaud and be proud of my kids but deep down under it all I feel the painful stabs of one thousand knives booring into my back.

I have decided to sell out and do a musical in the spring. It will kill me but at least I can say with confidence that there will be an audience for my actors to play to. (can I end with a preposition just this once?)

Lately I have become quite The Bitch Supreme and it feels fine. I don't take crap from anyone--and am pretty blunt about my feelings on most subjects. I know that this part of my personality has been lying dormant for most of my life and now that she is out I feel so liberated.

I like to use the word fuck. There's a quote from one of my most favorite movies (Sophie's Choice) where the little southern "Crackuh, as Kevin Klien calls him" writer thinks he is going to score with this musky brunette. She likes to say fuck all the time.
When they are making out on the couch, her fire engine red lipstick all over his face, she stops as he is removing her undergarments and says, "what are you doing?" The narrative voice of little man writer comes over and says, "she could say fuck, but she could not do it." Ha--I love it.

I don't write to a particular audience. I write about what is going on with me. I write about observations I have made. I write in this space because I have no where else to do so. I don't share my site with others, simply because I have no one who cares, really. Therefore, I write whatever I fucking feel like writing.

And today I feel like saying fuck.
So fuck.


**Sunday Morning. Back at it again.
I was thinking about the hardest times in my life; the most trying moments and processes I have gotten through completely on my own. Listening to Carole King's "you've got a friend" from her Tapestry album yesterday had me frozen in my tracks with the vacuum in hand. The popular chorus with James T sings,
"You just call out my name and you know where ever I am I'll come runnin..."

Hollywood FLA, 1975
The most frightening events always seem to find me in the middle of the night. I have been plagued with nightmares my entire life. Insomnia too. I would wake usually after both occurring--hand in hand, like partners in crime-- petrified. There was comfort in standing at the foot of each bed, shivering in the darkness, listening to the steady breathing and snoring of my family. Why wake them from peaceful slumber--the thing I wanted so desperately? So I stood and waited until the demons would pass, I stood and patiently waited for dawn to break.

"if the sky above you grows dark and full of clouds, and that old north wind should begin to blow.."

Carmel IN, 1985, 1986
My attachment to the wrong boys and their cruel breakup schemes were always fond memories of mine. I can only list a couple here but I can remember each one as if watching a re-run of a bad 70's sitcom. Sadly, I always know the outcome of each episode and can always sing the familiar theme song.

It was a Friday night, I believe (no wonder I hate Fridays) December 19, 1985. Stood up on my sixteenth birthday by my then cowboy-wanna-be, beetle drivin', drug usin' leather jacket wearin' model boyfriend. I didn't eat any of the birthday cake and sat with my parents alone at the dinner table. Chris Cahill, wondering if you are in rehab somewhere---or prison.

The following winter, November, 1986 there was the glamourous Broadway Boy Ben Wright who while breaking up compared me to sushi. We sat in his soon-to-be girlfriend's car as he broke the news. I knew there was a reason I never really liked sushi. I walked home from Julie York's house blinded by tears. They were voted prom king and queen the following spring.
"...winter, spring, summer or fall, all you have to do is call..."

We held each other on the stairs, waiting for the arguing to stop. Both of us stifling the sobs as not to be heard by the monster under the stairs. After twenty minutes of the yelling and crying, we decided it be best to try to sleep.
"Would you look at me?" She would say from her twin bed.
"Yes, I'll look at you. Good night."


Bloomington, IN 1988 spring
I was wearing thermals to bed. My roommate dropped out after first term and I had the dorm room to myself.
Must have been 3 or 4 in the morning. The angel of death was resting heavy on my chest. I was dying--my systems were shuttling down, the beautiful long blonde strands of hair lying in wisps on my pillow. I woke, feeling my pelvic bone again the hard matress--terrified, wondering if I was dreaming. My frail body could barely rise to the heavy wooden door. "Am I still alive?" I wondered.
I walked into the brightly lit hallway wrapped in a blanket--panic stricken, looking for a sign of life and there she was...down the hall talking on the phone to her long distance boyfriend, no doubt.
"Can I just sit next to you for a minute?"
"Sure," she said and continued her animated conversation. I sat in silence staring down the hall.

I could re-live the most recent events but not sure why I would want to. But come 11 o'clock on a Thursday night people don't answer their phones. As Stella once said, "I have always relied on the kindness of strangers," and on that particular night, I thank God he opened the door.

Loss of love, looking death straight in the face, abuse, fleeing for my life..all of these things I have done with very little assistance. It's good practice for the final blow out--cause lord knows no one is going to hold your hand when passing through that tunnel of light (or darkness)on that final day.

"When you're down and troubled and you need some love and care, and nothing, no nothing is going right, close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there, to brighten up even your darkest night.."

(I celebrate my inner strength and my life force when dealing with things the majority of people would not and could not possibly imagine happening to them. this is my karmic debt for past transgressions. I am paying a hefty sum.
But next go round there will be true love, soul mate, friendship, joy, peace--none of this lucid shit. I look forward to this life--I live for it. And this hollow shell of a body I currently inhabit will do what it can to make life better for others...and the debt will hopefully be repaid.)

pristine

I love the word "pristine". You can use it to describe so many things.

Just wanted to get this sonnet down before school starts...
more to say later.

XXX

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd and sorrows end.
**

weave your magic spell as you always do
their eyes will be like stars
until
they know you
the real you
the charm is no longer charming
the mystery unsettling
and the one-sided relationship
begins again...

Revolution

REVOLUTION


I don't really know what to say about the state of the world that has not already been said. I am finding it harder and harder to stomach listening to public radio. I don't have a television and am thankful.

And then there is "Sexy Sadie" one of the greatest songs on the white album. I love the way the recording of the piano sounds like it is an empty room echoing off the walls.

Lately, life has been such a farce-- or a black comedy for me. I really need to just sit down and write a novel about the last two years. Unbelievable. The past two weeks alone would be enough fodder for 100 pages at least.

This will be my first weekend to get out in ages. I am looking forward (really) to Windfall dancers and a production of Oklahoma! My craving for theatre has been insatiable and I want to overdose and fall into a glorified stupor...

Brand new day

Has anyone else been enamored by these morning skies? I saw the 2 planets aligned accompanied by a waxing(?) moon from my window at the shelter Friday morning--looking up this morning the sky seemed to go on forever. Must be the new surroundings.....

I woke to WFHB's mellow morning mix, made myself an espresso, stretched and leisurely got ready for work. This is the most relaxed I have felt in months.

From my 6X4 concrete slab I have a great view of highway 37. The sunsets are pretty spectacular. I feel a bit like Thoreau traipsing about Walden and living simply. It feels good.

Last night I started Nabokov's Lolita and read without interruption. The place was completely quiet. I actually have some clarity this a.m. and am finally ready to get back to work.

There is some definite compromise to doing this--the main one being seeing less of lil' babe.

I am on an upswing. Look out--you won't be able to help yourself--and I will pretty much kick your ass. Boo-Yah!

all saint's day

today is all saint's day. how apropos that i picked today to go back to church. the sermon was given by a man whom i respect and who is a thinker, a reader, a philosopher and a good man. he didn't dance around the subject of being a saint. sure, mother teresa and all that bullshit--but no. to be a saint one has to feel on a very human level. pathos. i have to link to his page and have you read it--a masterpiece.
i couldn't stay after communion; i was crying so hard i could even look up to say amen.

god, i thought it could only get better. you there, sitting at home cozy and comfortable on a thursday night have no idea the terror i experienced... and the weekend to follow.
i am broken but strong.
and i am a saint.