later that day....
It must be movie weekend cold and rainy with no fireplace is the recipe for movie time. I just saw The Incredibles. A great way to spend two hours. I think I was the only person laughing out loud in the place. It feels good to laugh.
I heard The remade Ladykillers was not as good as the first. Nothing ever is. But I still need to finish the one I currently have in the machine. My brother in law is a film critic--he recommended an old 40's Noir "The Set-Up" and also a new release called Sideways. Not sure if it's playing in town, but here's to hoping.
I stopped by the house today to pick up my mail. It was strange; the smells, the changes in decor, not a good feeling. Hopefully this will pass.
On the eve of Thanksgiving I witnessed the first snowfall under the lamplight. It was late but I wanted to tell someone. The excitement was simliar to the feeling I used to get when school was cancelled. Although this time, I wasn't sure whom to call--so I watched it through the blinds and went to bed.
Not much to say about the passing holiday but I was able to escape the tension in tact and without many questions. With my birthday in less than a month and Christmas shortly thereafter, I will have to learn to deal with happy coupledom conversations: painting the dining room, the new bedroom suite, surprise birthday presents with thought from newleywed hubbies, putting up christmas decorations, fussing over food preparation, etc.
And then there is "Big Daddy." Enough said.
Just watched the modern day film of Plato's Symposium last night. I didn't find the acting terribly convincing but the whole concept was fairly entertaining.
The other film I picked up on a fluke has been thoroughly entertaining--The Ladykillers. Below is a review from the EFC.
Things I noticed today:
*absent-minded youngish professor leaving his keys and exiting out the entrance of the post office. When I retrieved them for him after he nearly ran me down in the line, he looked at me like I handed him a winning lottery ticket. Didn't know I had such an affect/effect on people.
* the peace and calm in the library on an early Saturday morning. Also the delicious smell of books. I love library gnomes.
*my anxiety and yet the thrill I feel of working at the Community Kitchen today.
*law school loftiness...
THE EFC REVIEW: The Ladykillers
It certainly seems like an artistic and potentially profitable coup that the Coen Brothers were able to get Tom Hanks to star in their latest comedy. And surely it won't hurt the movie that it shares a title with a quietly adored old British comedy. But the one thing working against 'The Ladykillers' is that, while it's a great goofball comedy, the movie fans will want to know how it measures up to the Coens' previous efforts. Judged on that scale alone, this new one is a mite disappointing; on just about any other level, 'The Ladykillers' is a dark and hilarious success across the board.
It must be really difficult once you've made 10 or 12 fantastic movies; everyone expects that level to be maintained. So when the Coens decided to go high-end with their Clooney / Zeta-Jones affair, we felt slighted when it wasn't up to the standards of a Fargo or a Raising Arizona. But like I insisted upon the release of Intolerable Cruelty: even a mildly disappointing Coens flick is better than 92% of anything else playing at the multiplex.
So while The Ladykillers doesn't match the brilliant lunacy of a Big Lebowski or an O Brother...who really cares? Judged on its own merits, The Ladykillers is odd and ingratiating and consistently amusing enough to earn your twelve dollar box office donation. Sometimes a solid triple is just as satisfying as a home run, and (thanks mainly to the inspired work of Tom Hanks and some of the patented Coens lunacy) The Ladykillers is, at the very least, a 2-run double.
Spun off from the 1955 Alec Guinness comedy of the same name, The Ladykillers is about four clueless criminals, a sweet-natured old lady, a big pile of cash, and an uproariously verbose ringleader who goes by the name of Professor G.H. Dorr. The conniving crooks, posing as Renaissance Fair musicians, set up shop in granny's old root cellar while scheming to loot the local casino office. Needless to say, their criminal plans go awry. Early and often.
Much of the film consists of your typical heist contrivances, only filtered through the brilliantly twisted eyes of the brothers Coen. But this time the brothers have Tom Hanks as their lead, and it proves a match made in heaven. Mega-huge superstars like Hanks and George Clooney seem to thrive under the employ of the Coens; to call Hanks' performance here 'one of his funniest ever' seems a lofty compliment (hey he's a funny guy), but it is an accurate one. The always-affable Mr. Hanks gets to wrap his tongue around dozens of long and twisty little monologues; the Coens' intellectually amusing verbosity discovers a newfound friend in Tom Hanks. His breathlessly devious performance is a thing of comedic beauty; the words spilling from his mouth are the arcane icing on a mildly misshapen cake.
The brothers are also somehow able to elicit a strong supporting performance from the generally irritating Marlon Wayans, while crafty character actors like J.K. Simmons (last seen as J. Jonah Jameson in Spider-Man) and Stephen Root (now a Coens staple) steal a few scenes for themselves. Lovable old granny figure Irma P. Hall contributes an excellent performance; her handful of scenes between she and Hanks are near-priceless.
Special notice is due to Roger Deakins' amazingly lovely cinematography and the resoundingly warm and gospel-heavy score by Carter Burwell. And whoever trained the cat (oh yeah, keep your eye on the cat) deserves a cash bonus, because that skinny little furball earned some solid giggles all by herself.
You could be a 'glass half empty' person and acknowledge that 'The Ladykillers' doesn't measure up to the Coens' finest works. Or you could be an appreciative optimist like myself and acknowledge the fact that, after eleven movies, Joel & Ethan have yet to release ONE sub-par flick. 'The Ladykillers' may not rank among the Coens' most excellent films, but I bet it still ends up as one of this year's best comedies.
11/24/2004
mixology
Making a mixed cd for someone requires great care and sincerity. It's a lot like picking out the right birthday card for your mom--certain things have to be there--sentiment, words, images created by lyrics all packaged neatly in a cool jewel box. Depending on the person, you want to include songs that remind you of them and they of you. Or perhaps hint at how you feel about them. I love to make them for people I care about. The only problem is you put yourself out there when you share songs--kind of like poetry. And you can't take it back.
What's even worse is when you receive no feedback from the person as to whether or not they liked it--or (god help them) understood it. I am sure most of mine have long been tossed, made into coasters or colorful mobiles. I guess that is something?
I've been holding this one mix aside--waiting to send to a long-distance friend--but I realized that it would go unappreciated. So I kept it for myself.
I haven't received a personal mix from someone since 1994. Until yesterday. So thanks to my observant student who noticed that I needed a pick me up.
To you I wish a Happy Thanksgiving. To all the rest....well.....
What's even worse is when you receive no feedback from the person as to whether or not they liked it--or (god help them) understood it. I am sure most of mine have long been tossed, made into coasters or colorful mobiles. I guess that is something?
I've been holding this one mix aside--waiting to send to a long-distance friend--but I realized that it would go unappreciated. So I kept it for myself.
I haven't received a personal mix from someone since 1994. Until yesterday. So thanks to my observant student who noticed that I needed a pick me up.
To you I wish a Happy Thanksgiving. To all the rest....well.....
11/23/2004
Metaphor for life: Rush Hour Traffic
While driving home from Indy last night I was sitting in the midst of traffic, watching the stream of tail and break lights pulse in front of me. A red river or stream. A ribbon of light. The stop and go was driving me insane. And once you are on the freeway, there is no slowing down or getting off.
After three hours of back and forth and mean, rude, apathetic people, the papers are filed. They really need to find someone who has some compassion manning the counter. I mean it's hard enough to go through with the proceedings and then you have to give them to someone who could give a damn. I feel my heart just drying up like an old prune. Solitude is King. Come take me away.
After three hours of back and forth and mean, rude, apathetic people, the papers are filed. They really need to find someone who has some compassion manning the counter. I mean it's hard enough to go through with the proceedings and then you have to give them to someone who could give a damn. I feel my heart just drying up like an old prune. Solitude is King. Come take me away.
11/22/2004
"I see Bastard People"
If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
-Taming of the Shrew
I have found there are some people in this world who cannot make polite conversation. It is difficult if not impossible to understand this particular makeup of person. I can talk to pretty much anyone and it's always lighthearted. Now granted, I am not ugly and I do have a really good sense of humor on most days..So the exchange of words, you would think, would be fairly harmless. It boggles. It stupefies, really. And it makes me sad to think we have come so far---only to be right back where we used to be.
So I feel sorry for you people who have trouble casually talking to another person who wants nothing more from you than kindness.
It's hard to live alone--and when the babe stays all weekend, it again becomes a non-stop dance--she dodges, I parry. I am spent.
Just a few priceless moments:
*No Elmo DVD--up at 4:35a.m. to Wallmart: a quest.
*Out of diapers. Had to resort to a swimmer and doubling up on pants--back to Wallmart, changing her on the cold floor in the Infant section.
*Words words words...She is the most talkative, outgoing, curious creature I have ever known.
Together we are Hester and Pearl. Pearl and Hester by the flowing creek.
-Taming of the Shrew
I have found there are some people in this world who cannot make polite conversation. It is difficult if not impossible to understand this particular makeup of person. I can talk to pretty much anyone and it's always lighthearted. Now granted, I am not ugly and I do have a really good sense of humor on most days..So the exchange of words, you would think, would be fairly harmless. It boggles. It stupefies, really. And it makes me sad to think we have come so far---only to be right back where we used to be.
So I feel sorry for you people who have trouble casually talking to another person who wants nothing more from you than kindness.
It's hard to live alone--and when the babe stays all weekend, it again becomes a non-stop dance--she dodges, I parry. I am spent.
Just a few priceless moments:
*No Elmo DVD--up at 4:35a.m. to Wallmart: a quest.
*Out of diapers. Had to resort to a swimmer and doubling up on pants--back to Wallmart, changing her on the cold floor in the Infant section.
*Words words words...She is the most talkative, outgoing, curious creature I have ever known.
Together we are Hester and Pearl. Pearl and Hester by the flowing creek.
11/18/2004
Word of the day-- delicate
While I was making my daughter dinner, she stood by the front door holding her coat. "Outside?" and "Daddy?" were the only words I could make out of her babble.
Scenes from Mrs. Doubtfire played through my mind. I put the spoon down and went to her.
***
6:15 a.m. traffic rolls on Second Street. We have our routines and most folks who are up and out at this time generally move a lot faster than the rest of the population. I appreciate that. But some days I envy the type B person. Leisurely sipping coffee, reading the paper and whatever else they do...try living with one of these people. A lesson in patience, let me tell you.
I am slowly wading into the holidays. My favorite time of year (ugh). Today I dug out Messiah. "The Halleulah Chorus" always puts a lump in my throat the size of a softball. Handel beats the crap out of that miserable, peppy Vince G. and his trio playing those tired Charlie Brown Songs.
Lolita is moving right along. I find it disturbing (perhaps with a young nymphette of my own) that there are predators in my own backyard lusting after young girls.
***
Scenes from Mrs. Doubtfire played through my mind. I put the spoon down and went to her.
***
6:15 a.m. traffic rolls on Second Street. We have our routines and most folks who are up and out at this time generally move a lot faster than the rest of the population. I appreciate that. But some days I envy the type B person. Leisurely sipping coffee, reading the paper and whatever else they do...try living with one of these people. A lesson in patience, let me tell you.
I am slowly wading into the holidays. My favorite time of year (ugh). Today I dug out Messiah. "The Halleulah Chorus" always puts a lump in my throat the size of a softball. Handel beats the crap out of that miserable, peppy Vince G. and his trio playing those tired Charlie Brown Songs.
Lolita is moving right along. I find it disturbing (perhaps with a young nymphette of my own) that there are predators in my own backyard lusting after young girls.
***
11/16/2004
"The true seeker"
"Only when the lamp of search, of earnest striving, of longing desire, of passionate devotion, of fervid love, of rapture, and ecstasy, is kindled within the seeker's heart, and the breeze of His loving-kindness is wafted upon his soul, will the darkness of error be dispelled, the mists of doubts and misgivings be dissipated, and the lights of knowledge and certitude envelop his being.
At that hour will the mystic Herald, bearing the joyful tidings of the Spirit, shine forth from the City of God resplendent as the morn, and, through the trumpet-blast of knowledge, will awaken the heart, the soul, and the spirit from the slumber of negligence.
Then will the manifold favours and outpouring grace of the holy and everlasting Spirit confer such new life upon the seeker that he will find himself endowed with a new eye, a new ear, a new heart, and a new mind. He will contemplate the manifest signs of the universe, and will penetrate the hidden mysteries of the soul.
Gazing with the eye of God, he will perceive within every atom a door that leadeth him to the stations of absolute certitude. He will discover in all things the mysteries of divine Revelation and the evidences of an everlasting manifestation."
-Baha'u'llah (Kitab-i-Iqan)
red tape.
people chomping on their apples or potato chips.
awkward silence in lunch rooms.
slow-witted people--and the combination slow wit and slow driving.
mirages.
people who don't get the hint when you obviously want them to leave.
asumptions.
10:45a.m. Courts Office
Metal detector, chain smokers outside--toothless, pathetic.
While bitterly attempting to file the papers-I was sent on the "red tape trip", as I like to call it. I was missing something-er-other...I think she said provisional order? By the way, they close at 4p.m. Great(sarcasm).
Parking down town. High Heels and rain. Enough said.
11:00a.m. next stop: obtaining provincial order.
Entered wrong door, had to backtrack outside to front.
Waited for clearance.
"Legal Services please," I said impatiently.
"She's on vacation and won't be back until next week. And then will only be in on Monday because of Thanksgiving and all..."
"Right. Thanksgiving," I whipsered bitterly under my breath. Thanks giving. Giving thanks. I am giving thanks that I left before I said something I would later regret.
11:15a.m. Back onstage
Students waiting in my room to see me.
Publicity is delayed, need exact dimentions for set, choregrapher going to be late today, girl tells me she can't make rehearsal because of an appointment.
Resident skipper eating lunch in room--chomping chomping. I told him to get out.
And I still blush in your presence....
At that hour will the mystic Herald, bearing the joyful tidings of the Spirit, shine forth from the City of God resplendent as the morn, and, through the trumpet-blast of knowledge, will awaken the heart, the soul, and the spirit from the slumber of negligence.
Then will the manifold favours and outpouring grace of the holy and everlasting Spirit confer such new life upon the seeker that he will find himself endowed with a new eye, a new ear, a new heart, and a new mind. He will contemplate the manifest signs of the universe, and will penetrate the hidden mysteries of the soul.
Gazing with the eye of God, he will perceive within every atom a door that leadeth him to the stations of absolute certitude. He will discover in all things the mysteries of divine Revelation and the evidences of an everlasting manifestation."
-Baha'u'llah (Kitab-i-Iqan)
red tape.
people chomping on their apples or potato chips.
awkward silence in lunch rooms.
slow-witted people--and the combination slow wit and slow driving.
mirages.
people who don't get the hint when you obviously want them to leave.
asumptions.
10:45a.m. Courts Office
Metal detector, chain smokers outside--toothless, pathetic.
While bitterly attempting to file the papers-I was sent on the "red tape trip", as I like to call it. I was missing something-er-other...I think she said provisional order? By the way, they close at 4p.m. Great(sarcasm).
Parking down town. High Heels and rain. Enough said.
11:00a.m. next stop: obtaining provincial order.
Entered wrong door, had to backtrack outside to front.
Waited for clearance.
"Legal Services please," I said impatiently.
"She's on vacation and won't be back until next week. And then will only be in on Monday because of Thanksgiving and all..."
"Right. Thanksgiving," I whipsered bitterly under my breath. Thanks giving. Giving thanks. I am giving thanks that I left before I said something I would later regret.
11:15a.m. Back onstage
Students waiting in my room to see me.
Publicity is delayed, need exact dimentions for set, choregrapher going to be late today, girl tells me she can't make rehearsal because of an appointment.
Resident skipper eating lunch in room--chomping chomping. I told him to get out.
And I still blush in your presence....
11/15/2004
Rung dry
She wrapped her arms 'round my neck
and with an elvish look kissed me goodnight.
her warm body motionless, relaxed next to mine
my thumb pressed in the palm of her hand,
fingers exploring--assuring herself that I was still there.
where else would I want to be?
she gives me reason
to try harder and wait for a warmer season.
***
"No soliciting"
I think my neighbor is dead. I have never met him-her but
I am sure some night my silent room will be disturbed by the heavy footfalls of Coroner Toomey.
For several days I noted a trash bag loaded with garbage outside his apartment door. The first few days it didn't bother me--but the weekend passed and still it remained.
So I caved.
I made an extra trip out to the dumpster and tossed the bag over the side. We share a common floor--just the phantom neighbor and me--
Here's hoping he is alive and well. If not, I pray there was nothing noteworthy in that trash bag. Mr. Toomey will come a' knocking on my door asking me questions....looking for clues.
and with an elvish look kissed me goodnight.
her warm body motionless, relaxed next to mine
my thumb pressed in the palm of her hand,
fingers exploring--assuring herself that I was still there.
where else would I want to be?
she gives me reason
to try harder and wait for a warmer season.
***
"No soliciting"
I think my neighbor is dead. I have never met him-her but
I am sure some night my silent room will be disturbed by the heavy footfalls of Coroner Toomey.
For several days I noted a trash bag loaded with garbage outside his apartment door. The first few days it didn't bother me--but the weekend passed and still it remained.
So I caved.
I made an extra trip out to the dumpster and tossed the bag over the side. We share a common floor--just the phantom neighbor and me--
Here's hoping he is alive and well. If not, I pray there was nothing noteworthy in that trash bag. Mr. Toomey will come a' knocking on my door asking me questions....looking for clues.
11/13/2004
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.)
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.)
11/12/2004
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...
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...
11/10/2004
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...
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...
11/08/2004
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!
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!
11/07/2004
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.
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.
11/04/2004
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