A Success — So far!!

Well, I made it to the market in town and back, without coming closer than 6 feet to anyone at all. Here’s hoping I get through another week without any symptoms.

Although, I have to say that my idea to get to the market the moment it opened on a Sunday morning, when it was also pouring down rain — well, it was an idea shared by a whole lot more people than I was expecting.

But still! I got in & out of the market in under 15 minutes.  And now the trip to town is done for another week. Next week, the virus will likely be at it’s peak, though. But we’ll just take it one week at a time.

Yesterday was a bit of an interesting thing. It ended on a really good note for me — although, I was really alarmed to learn that Marianne Faithfull had been hospitalized in London with the virus  yesterday. They say she is stable — I hope this is true.

But other than that, I ended the evening feeling really happy yesterday.

However, the early part of the day was not so good.

Man, when you least expect it, people can get really unglued from all this stress.  I called a colleague in NY yesterday, to find out how she was doing — she had called and left me a voicemail the night before, so I was not expecting her to be off-the-charts crazy by yesterday morning. But she sure was. And then the emotional damage she transferred over to me, had left me feeling really assaulted, you know? From out of nowhere.

So then Peitor talked to me on the phone for about an hour and was so helpful — he brought me in from that ledge. He truly did — he got me firmly on to a much healthier train of thought that helped my outlook for the rest of my day. (Plus, I am just so fucking in love right now, gang, despite everything, and I just love that.) But it also meant that Peitor and I didn’t work on Abstract Absurdity Productions stuff yesterday. But we are scheduled to work this afternoon instead.

The drive home from the market this morning was enchanting. The rain had stopped and the clouds were beginning to disperse, but there were still enough clouds to keep the sun from really coming through yet, so the filtered light was ethereal.

None of the trees have leaves yet, but there are just tons of dogwoods and tulip trees in this whole region and all of them are in full bloom right now.  My drive to town and back is full of hills, and this morning, on my drive home, from the tops of the hills I could see down into the various valleys, into the tiny towns, and all those dogwoods and tulip trees in bloom, cows and horses dotting the hillsides; and now the red-winged blackbirds are back, too — they were everywhere! And, of course, almost no people or cars anywhere…it was just like a painting or something. So breathtaking.

Red-winged Blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) World birds online ...
Always a sure sign that Spring has arrived in Ohio!

I was so relieved to have the shopping behind me for another week, and the ride was so beautiful, that I didn’t even feel like speeding. I was really enjoying the drive.

In town, the gasoline prices are now at $1.60 a gallon! Of course, I have no need for gas right now, since I only make one trip to town each week. (Which, of course, is why the gas prices have plummeted — no one needs gas right now.) But it was really something see.

And the shops that have those lit marquees out in front of them all had upbeat sayings on them. You know, “Keep Smiling.” Stuff like that.  It really did feel like a dream. The farther you get from the bigger cities (even in Ohio), the friendlier the people are; the kinder they are. I know I’m eventually going to have to spend a lot more time back in NYC, and more time in LA, once all this virus stuff passes through — and I don’t regret any of that. I’m looking forward to it. But, man, living out here in the Hinterlands, in the middle of nowhere, has been the most amazing experience for me, ever.

All righty, gang. I hope you’re able to enjoy your Sunday, wherever you are in the world. I need to get ready for my phone call with Peitor now, so I’m gonna scoot!! I’ll leave you with a song & a prayer for Marianne Faithfull — counting on her full and complete recovery.  Stay well. I love you guys. See ya.

“The Gypsy Faerie Queen”

I’m known by many different names
My good friend Will calls me Puck and Robin Goodfellow
I follow the gypsy faerie queen
I follow the gypsy faerie queen

She walks the length and breadth of England
Singing her song, using her wand
To help and heal the land and the creatures on it
She’s dressed in rags of moleskin
And wears a crown of Rowan berries on her brow

And I follow, follow, follow
The gypsy faerie queen
We exist, exist, exist
In the twilight in-between

She bears a blackthorn staff
To help her in her walking
I only listen to her sing
But I never hear her talking anymore
Though once she did
Though once she did

And I follow, follow, follow
My gypsy faerie queen
We exist, exist, exist
In the twilight in-between

And I follow, follow, follow
My gypsy faerie queen
We exist, exist, exist
In the country in-between

Me and my gypsy queen

© 2018 Marianne Faithfull, Nick Cave

And So The Plot Thickens…

Okay, so it is another beautiful day here today in Crazeysburg!! Yesterday was also really just lovely.

It helps so much, doesn’t it? Even while I like rain (and snow), there is something about this kind of sunny weather that promises that Summer will once again return — it is just the best feeling.

My friend Kevin called last evening. This is the Kevin who stores his vintage 1965 VW camper van in my barn all summer/fall. He lives in the town that is 20 miles from me, where I do my marketing.

Anyway, he’s in lockdown with his mom, so you can kind of guess where that’s going… He said that he goes out once a day to buy beer, and to get food for his mother.

HIM (very quietly indeed): “I’m losing my mind…”

But he pointed out that he probably won’t see me again until it’s time to store the camper in my barn — which is mid-May. Then he doesn’t come back from Montana until October. So weird. But it was really nice to chat with him. It perked up my little evening, which actually was going quite well, regardless.

On another topic — I just want to share a couple of sentences with you from Love in the Time of Cholera that just make me wish I could read the novel in its original Spanish and understand it!

(Here the old man briefly recalls his first days of loving the girl he loved, unrequited, for his entire life.)

… he could not distinguish her from the heartrending twilights of those times. Even when he observed her, unseen, during those days of longing when he waited for a reply to his first letter, he saw her transfigured in the afternoon shimmer of two o’clock in a shower of blossoms from the almond trees where it was always April regardless of the season of the year.

And then here, where his mother is once again trying to teach him how to behave towards this girl he loves from afar — the girl was still not answering his love letter, so he drank a bottle of his mother’s best cologne (which contains alcohol), and his mother found him at six in the morning, passed out down by the sea, in a pool of fragrant smelling vomit:

She took advantage of the hiatus of his convalescence to reproach him for his passivity as he waited for the answer to his letter. She reminded him that the weak would never enter the kingdom of love, which is a harsh and ungenerous kingdom…

I just love this kind of imagery. So intensely passionate, with humor tossed in around the edges.

(And I will concur that the kingdom of love  is indeed a harsh and ungenerous kingdom…)

I also have to say — although I won’t quote from it, yet — that the book about Judas is really good, pointing out that in the earliest gospels, nothing whatsoever is said about Jesus being betrayed by Judas.

If you don’t follow the history of ancient Christianity — the gospels that came to be accepted as canonical (in the 4th century AD, hundreds of years after Jesus’s life & death), each reflect the politics of when they were written: Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John. (With a lost Gospel of Q being thought to have existed at the time of Mark, and also to have been similar to the Gospel of Thomas — which any good Christian treats as absolute heresy but which is, of course, my favorite gospel.)

Mark is the oldest accepted gospel, although it has an additional ending tacked on to it. It originally ended at 16:8. Wherein, the two Mary’s find an empty tomb and a young man in white, who tells them that Jesus has risen and will appear to Peter and the disciples in Galilee.

(I, personally, love how this earliest version of the gospel has Mary Magdalene and Jesus’s mother, Mary, as the only ones who go to his tomb. It’s not any of the men, and certainly not Peter – which also lends credence, based on Jewish custom that only a man’s wife and family can touch and prepare the corpse for burial.  Anyway, it gives additional credence to the idea that Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene, otherwise, she would not have been allowed to touch and prepare his naked corpse.) (Which was why the two women went to the tomb, but then found the tomb empty.)

Yeah, well. I digressed…. Sorry. You know, don’t get me started on the Jesus stuff because I just don’t stop!! Case in point, I love this stuff too (!!) :

Many archaeologists believe this was the house Jesus lived and taught in during his years in Capernaum.



It is sufficient to say, that I am enjoying the book that re-examines Judas. And it is a really appropriate book for me to be reading as Holy Week approaches.


No — Abstract Absurdity Productions did not have its phone meeting yesterday. We might have it this morning, I don’t know yet. Peitor has a lot on his plate right now, regarding his family and the virus.

Tomorrow morning, I need to make my foray back into town and go to the market.  The cases in that county are rapidly climbing (and Muskingum County, btw, now has 3 confirmed), and all over Ohio, in general, the confirmed cases are starting to peak.  We are now at 3300 cases in the State. So I’m hoping my paranoia doesn’t go into high gear or anything tomorrow, because I really seriously need food.

(Although Ohio is nowhere near as bad as the “hotspots” in the US– i.e., Michigan is right next to Ohio and has over 10,000 confirmed cases to our 3300, and NYC is still just off-the-charts. Almost half of all virus cases in the entire country are located in the NY area  — almost 67,000 people are confirmed to have the virus in NY, with half of those being right in the city itself. Which is why all I can think of to say right now to all of my loved ones there is “Please don’t go outside. Please wash your hands.”)

Anyway. I hate the day when I have to go into town, because so far, I am totally healthy. If only I didn’t need food….

Okay! Well, I’m going to try to not think about any of this stuff for at least the next few hours. I’m going to go get another cup of coffee, and hang out on my bed and read Love in the Time of Cholera some more. And enjoy this lovely day and see if Peitor ends up wanting to work at all.

I hope today finds you in a good place. Thanks for visiting, gang.  I leave you with my listening-music from yesterday! A song that’s on B-Sides & Rarities, but from a movie I hadn’t thought about in probably a couple of decades until I went onto Instagram yesterday.  (The 90s was a heavy-drinking decade for me, wherein I saw, literally, hundreds of movies, most of which I don’t remember.) Anyway, here is “(I’ll Love You) Till the End of the World” by the awesomely talented Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds (from the Wim Wenders film, Until the End of the World, 1991, which I did see but cannot remember at all).

Okay. I love you guys. See ya.

“(I’ll Love You) Till the End of the World”

It was a miracle I even got outta Longwood alive
This town full of men with big mouths and no guts
I mean, if you can just picture it
The whole third floor of the hotel gutted by the blast
And the street below showered in shards of broken glass
And all the drunks pourin’ outta the dance halls
Starin’ up at the smoke and the flames
And the blind pencil seller wavin’ his stick
Shoutin’ for his dog that lay dead on the side of the road
And me, if you can believe this, at the wheel of the car
Closin’ my eyes and actually prayin’
Not to God above, but to you, sayin’

Help me, girl, help me, girl
I’ll love you till the end of the world
With your eyes black as coal and your long dark curls

Some things we plan
We sit and we invent and we plot and cook up
Others are works of inspiration, of poetry
And it was this genius hand that pushed me up the hotel stairs
To say my last goodbye
To her hair white as snow and her pale blue eyes
Sayin’, “I gotta go, I gotta go
The bomb and the bread basket are ready to blow”
In this town of men with big mouths and no guts
The pencil seller’s dog, spooked by the explosion
And leapin’ under my wheels
As I careered outta Longwood on my way to you
Waitin in your dress, in your dress of blue, I said

Thank you girl, thank you girl
I’ll love you till the end of the world
With your eyes black as coal and your long dark curls

And with the horses prancin’ through the fields
With my knife in my jeans and the rain on the shield
I sang a song for the glory of the beauty of you
Waitin’ for me in your dress of blue

Thank you, girl, thank you, girl
I’ll love you till the end of the world
With your eyes black as coal and your long dark curls

I said thank you, girl, thank you, girl
I’ll love you till the end of the world
With your eyes black as coal and your long dark curls

I said thank you, girl, thank you, girl
I’ll love you till the end of the world
With your eyes black as coal and your long dark curls

I said thank you, girl, thank you, girl
I’ll love you till the end of the world
With your eyes black as coal and your long dark curls

Thank you, girl, thank you, girl
I’ll love you till the end of the world
With your eyes black as coal and your long dark curls

© 1991 Nick Cave

A Splendid Day Is Upon Us, Gang!!

Yes, that’s right!!!

We won’t be able to go out and do anything in it, but it will indeed be splendid. (Here in Crazeysburg, anyway — super sunny and almost 70 degrees Fahrenheit. I will at least go out later and take a walk.)

It’s hard to believe that a week from today will be Good Friday. And then a week from Sunday — Easter. How on Earth did that happen? One minute, it seemed months away. Then the world went up in flames. And now…

Well, I guess in honor of Easter, that scholarly book I ordered the other day, which re-examines the role of Judas in Christ’s crucifixion, arrived yesterday.

It’s now my “downstairs” book. It’s on my kitchen table, and I couldn’t resist beginning to read it, even while, upstairs, in my bedroom, I’m deep into reading Love in the Time of Cholera.

If you think about it, the temperaments of each book are kind of similar and perfect for the approach of Easter.  (Heartbreak, unrequited love, intense love, let’s kill Jesus, etc.)

I feel like I’m better today than I was yesterday. I’m sort of sticking to my plan to stay clear of my desk & any writing projects for now, and just read. Try not to think too much. Try not to expect too much from myself right now.  Ease into the rhythm of this pandemic without trying to fight it. And allow myself to love because I choose to love.

Yesterday, I spoke on the phone with a couple of close friends/ex-husbands in NYC and it is really intense and scary — what they are dealing with right now.  I think they are getting ready to experience a surge of deaths from COVID 19 that will outpace the rest of the world. Just awful.

My ex-husband was explaining the details about how it is over there right now, and then he said, “I had to run up to Harlem to get my drugs and buy more needles…” and I was really taken aback. The only thing I know for sure about that particular ex-husband is that I never know what to expect from him, ever, and so I thought: Wow, he’s on heroin now. This pandemic has really hit him hard.

But it turned out, he was talking about insulin. But that kind of shocked me, too, because I didn’t know he was at that stage.

But, anyway, once I realized what he was talking about, all I could say was, “Did you wash your hands when you came back home?”

I know I must sound super annoying to everyone who’s in the thick of this pandemic, but I can’t help it.

He paused, and sort of sighed and then said, “…yes, I washed my hands.” Sounding, like, you know, that was the least of his worries right at that moment.

I’m still calling my dad everyday, and completely on automatic, I did the same thing to him.  Yesterday, he said that someone from the main nursing home facility had brought him over some books to read.  And even though I know they’re all on lockdown there and following extreme sterilizing procedures, I sort of freaked out — “someone” had brought him books and he just let the books come right into the house, right?

And I leaped in and said, “Dad, did you wash your hands?”

Sort of startled, he stopped what he was saying and said, “Yes, I did…”

ME: “Are you sure, Dad? You don’t sound sure. Did you really wash your hands?”

HIM: “I washed my hands.”

ME: “Okay…” (But I didn’t actually believe him.)

And I thought to myself: My god, this is so weird. I could recall being, like, three years old, and sitting down to the dinner table and my dad asking me if I’d washed my hands.

ME: “Yes.” (Not wanting to get up again and go do it.)

HIM: “You’re sure you washed your hands?”

ME:  “Yes.”

[Liar, liar/pants on fire/your nose is longer than/a telephone wire… — Ed.]

Is this the face of a girl who would tell a lie? You bet’cha!!











So today is Abstract Absurdity Productions day. I believe we are going to begin creating our pitch deck. (A PowerPoint slide presentation.) So that should be intense and kind of fun. I have another webinar that I still need to take re: points and backend negotiations stuff. Maybe over the weekend. God knows, there’s no rush right now.

All right, gang. I’m gonna get the day underway over here. I hope you are having a decent Friday, wherever you are in the world. Be easy on yourselves in your captivity, okay? I’m leaving you with my breakfast-listening music from this morning (still on a Louis Armstrong kick over here.) I just love this song. It was popular in my wee bonny girlhood, but sung by the Mamas & the Papas back then. It’s actually a song from the early 1930s, though. And it is so evocative of love and all the best things about romance. So enjoy. The light will come again and you wanna be ready for it!! Okay. I love you guys. See ya!

“Dream A Little Dream Of Me”

Stars shining bright above you
Night breezes seem to whisper “I love you”
Birds singing in a sycamore tree
Dream a little dream of me

Say nighty night and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you miss me
While I’m alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me

Stars fading but I linger on dear
Still craving your kiss
I’m longing to linger till dawn dear
Just saying this

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me

Stars fading but I linger on dear
Still craving your kiss
I’m longing to linger till dawn dear
Just saying this

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you
And in your dreams
Whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me

© 1931 Gus Kahn, Fabian Andre, Wilbur Schwandt

I Suggest Cigarettes, Whiskey, & Sleeping Pills!!

“‘A sex-crazed whore who sings of her own wantonness,’ one theologian wrote…”

NO! Not about me, he wrote that about Sappho.

I spent yesterday reading a wide-flung bunch of stuff.  In particular, some fragments of Sappho’s poems. These translations were in an early-20th Century literature collection, and so it was interesting to read the preface to Sappho’s poems, wherein the editors were taking that really odd approach (in my opinion) to the life and works of Sappho — downplaying any homoerotic references in her work, attributing it to some sort of Greek custom where young women had erotic relations with each other in order to prepare them for marriage and motherhood.

Okay… hmm. (Is that, like, every guy’s dream or something?)

If you read the huge amount of endless stuff written about Sappho, you will find all of man –& woman –kind, coming up with all sorts of strange and sometimes seemingly farfetched ways to explain the life and times of Sappho. (And it’s interesting to note that here in contemporary times, where we value and identify with the individual, and so we believe that she was simply writing about her private erotic longings for other women, we could be furthest of all from understanding Sappho, who lived in an ancient era where the “group” was what personally identified people, not the individual.)

Anyway. I found it interesting that the particular translations of Sappho that I read yesterday were well-written but lacking in some of the intense passion I’ve read in other translations of her poetic fragments over the years.

And then in the same book, I read some translations of Baudelaire that I thought were awful. And they were translations written by Edna St. Vincent Millay, who was, you know, a substantial poet in her own right. But I found her translations to be the least moving translations of Baudelaire’s poems that I had ever read.  (My favorites are Louise Varese’s translations from the 1940s.)

And then, of course, I had to once again confront how we are sort of prisoners to whoever is translating the work we’re reading.

A few days ago, I once again took Love in the Time of Cholera from the bookshelf and toyed with the idea of reading it (I am still in love with that person I really should not be in love with and sometimes I’m okay with it and sometimes it just feels devastating).  And since we are in this unprecedented pandemic and since I am so incapable of not loving with every cell of my entire being, it seemed like an appropriate book to get lost in.

However, I didn’t want to break my heart even more…

But I am daily confronted with the fact that I simply cannot write right now. I can’t focus. I can’t find a thread in to any of my work. I can’t find the inspiration to begin something perhaps brand new. I am stuck. Completely. Day after day. Hour after hour.

This morning, I awoke at 4:29 AM and I was already crying.  And I cried all through breakfast.  I felt like I was never going to write again and that, based on what I had written so far (45 years worth of stuff), I was a complete failure. Whether or not it’s true, when you’re feeling that way, it’s real. And I cried through my little journalings at the kitchen table (my Inner Being dialogue today was brief and to the point: they told me to “step back, breathe” and: “do NOT dismantle your desires; step back and let them BE.”)

But still I cried when I began my morning meditation, which, you know, is not really the most productive frame of mind to go into meditation with, however, it actually was an incredible meditation. By the end of it, I had new tears, but they were of joy. I had a complete transformation.

Last evening, I actually had begun reading Love in the Time of Cholera because I simply could not resist the pull of it any longer, even though I have brand new books here waiting to be read, ones that I just bought. And this morning, it became apparent that I’m just going to have to ride out this pandemic in whatever way it finds me each day.I don’t really have a choice.

Early yesterday evening, during my now daily routine of pacing around the kitchen, at loose ends with myself while trying to watch another episode of DCI Banks, I came really, really close to just going out on to my porch and lighting up a  cigarette, drinking a  shot of whiskey, and then taking a sleeping pill to obliterate the rest of the night.

These are my old habits, but I outgrew them. I haven’t had them for years. I don’t need them anymore, but it is undeniable that I was intensely creative during those old habits; and yet… what I did instead last night was finally picked up Love in the Time of Cholera and just started to read, because if I’m going to die from a broken heart, I’d rather have clarity about it than be obliterated by it.

Oh well.

So if I end up not writing anything at all, but reading other people’s works all day long and on into the night, then that’s the way it is likely supposed to be right now.

(And I was also struck anew last evening by the recurring question of translators because the English translation of Love in the Time of Cholera (by Edith Grossman) is so exquisite, that I cannot even imagine what Marquez’s books are like in the original Spanish.)

So that’s where I am today. I’m resigned to keeping clear of my desk, to lying around and reading Marquez (in translation). And loving it. And loving my broken heart and everything that I love about who I love. And just letting life be, for now.

It is a beautiful day here. I will probably take a walk later this afternoon. Also do Booty Core. (I have to say, I am not a real big fan of Booty Core. I much prefer the yoga, which I do most of the time. But Booty Core saved my legs and my hip joints, so I’m gonna stick with it forever, a couple days a week.)

Yesterday, the item pictured below arrived! It was reduced for clearance, so I ordered it. It’s one of those flight bags that stores under the seat so, clearly, I’m planning on flying again — getting back to work once this pandemic moves on.

All righty, gang. Thanks for visiting. Have a great Thursday, however it finds you and wherever you are in the world. I leave you with this — a song I was thinking about the other day for the first time in decades, “Backstreet Girl” by The Rolling Stones, from their Between the Buttons album (and on Flowers in the US). It’s a stunning song, from over 50 years ago. That doesn’t mean I actually like it, but it is thought-provoking — the intense misogyny of it. And it’s weird that I’ve known all the words by heart since I was about 12.  Okay, with that — I love you guys. See ya.

“Backstreet Girl”

I don’t want you to be high
I don’t want you to be down
Don’t want to tell you no lie
Just want you to be around
Please come right up to my ears
You will be able to hear what I say
Don’t want you out in my world
Just you be my backstreet girl

Please don’t be part of my life
Please keep yourself to yourself
Please don’t you bother my wife
That way you won’t get no help
Don’t try to ride on my horse
You’re rather common and coarse anyway
Don’t want you out in my world
Just you be my backstreet girl

Please don’t you call me at home
Please don’t come knocking at night
Please never ring on the phone
Your manners are never quite right
Please take the favors I grant
Curtsy and look nonchalant, just for me
Don’t want you part of my world
Just you be my backstreet girl

©  1967 Jagger- Richards

It Does My Heart Good…

It does my heart good, you know? From my desk, I can look out the window and see that the starlings have fucked up the gutters on my neighbor’s house, too. So now I don’t have to feel quite so guilty that my gutters are a complete mess.

I’m not the only one.

And I can also clearly see the starling, sitting happily in my neighbor’s fucked up gutter. She stares out serenely at the world, obviously thinking: God made this gutter just for me, for my nest. What a wonderful world.

I can only guess that all the starlings sitting in their nests in my own fucked-up gutters are wearing the same contended expressions on their tiny faces.

The gutters on my roof sit up way too high for me to see into them, and whenever I walk too close, the birds fly away anyway.

But it’s life — living things, God’s creatures, or whoever makes these sacred creatures — so I don’t really care. What matters more to me is that life goes on and that the starlings return every Spring, along with the robins, to build their nests and hatch their little baby birds, who will come back again next Spring — ad infinitum.

Well, okay!!

Peitor and I did indeed work on Abstract Absurdity Productions stuff yesterday!! And it went very well. We got our synopsis written for Lita måste gå! (aka Lita’s Got to Go!), which is great because synopses are my least favorite thing on Earth to write. I think it’s okay to share the synopsis with you here, because Peitor is showing it to people in LA.  And it will soon be on our new web site anyway (she says confidently, as if she’s going to get back to work on that web site at any moment!!).

If you don’t follow this blog all the time, Lita måste gå! is an 8-minute film, a fictional story, with 4 lines of dialogue — but the dialogue is in Swedish with English subtitles, hence the double title.

Our filmmaking style — in all of our upcoming projects — is an homage to Luis Buñuel, Roman Polanski, Ingmar Bergman, Alfred Hitchcock, François Truffaut, Jacques Tati, Michelangelo Antonioni, and Fellini — as well as to the Abstract principles of the photography of the Bauhaus School. 

The premises of all our projects are completely absurd, but handled very seriously — almost poetically — so that the fact that it’s absurd only quietly creeps up on you.


Lita måste gå! (aka Lita’s Got to Go!)

Lita is everybody’s worst nightmare of a maid. Every day, when Gerta returns to her apartment, an uneasy feeling comes over her that something dreadful is going on. Trying to understand the source of this uneasiness, Gerta begins to investigate. Is what she’s sensing real or imagined? Is it something in the apartment or is it her maid? Whatever it is, the fear in the pit of her stomach grows more inescapable each day. Whilst Gerta goes out to ease her mind, Lita’s cleaning antics escalate to a level that the furniture can no longer endure – the writing desk wrestles her to the floor. The doctor is called in to examine Lita’s lacerations and contusions, but writes off her absurd accusations to an overstimulated imagination. Unsatisfied, Gerta calls in the services of a specialist – and then the Desk Whisperer arrives. In a hushed, tender exchange between the desk and the Whisperer, he gets to the root of the problem. It is here that Gerta learns that Lita’s got to go and that the writing desk longs to return to the forest. Heeding the words of the Desk Whisperer, Gerta then fastens the desk to the roof of her Citroen and drives out to the countryside. In the forest, placing her desk at the foot of a tree, Gerta knows that all is now right again in her world.

So there you have it, gang! That’s the plot to the 8-minute script that it took us 15 months to write! And it’s 19 pages of shots, POVs,  lenses, sound cues and blocking, with 4 lines of dialogue (in Swedish) that don’t come in until page 15.

(And just FYI, the average 90-page script should take you about 6-12 weeks to write.)

But I couldn’t be happier. I fucking love this project!!

Well, in just a few minutes here, my ex-husband out in Seattle is scheduled to call me for a little happy chat.  I haven’t spoken to him since November, I think, even though we email each other many times, every single day. So I’m looking forward to it.

If you aren’t aware, Seattle was one of the first places in the US (if not the first?) that had an outbreak of Covid 19 wherein someone died. Then the State (Washington) was one of the first to go into quarantine, and they seem to have avoided the horrific stuff going on in NYC now because of it.

I was kind of worried that since he is Chinese, he would have been the target of some of that racist awfulness that broke out, but, thankfully, he was not.

So, yes, I have one ex-husband in the thick of it in Seattle, and one ex-husband in the thick of it in NYC. A business partner and dear friend in the thick of it in Los Angeles. And many more friends and colleagues in the thick of it in San Francisco and various areas of the NYC boros. So just pray, right? And just keep hoping that everybody stays indoors. (Although, Dr. David Price, from NYC’s Cornell Medical Center, stresses in a recent video to the world that preventing the contagion hinges almost entirely on washing your hands and not touching your face, period. As well as staying indoors and away from people.)

Okay! On that hopeful note, I better scoot, gang. Thanks for visiting! I might check in again later. We shall see! Have a good Wednesday, wherever you are in the world. I leave you with one of the most beautiful songs, ever. Listen, absorb it, enjoy it and just cherish yourselves, okay? I love you guys. See ya.

“What A Wonderful World”

I see trees of green
Red roses too
I see them bloom
For me and you
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world

I see skies of blue
And clouds of white
The bright blessed day
The dark sacred night
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world

The colors of the rainbow
So pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces
Of people going by
I see friends shaking hands
Saying, “How do you do?”
They’re really saying
“I love you”

I hear babies cry
I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more
Than I’ll never know
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world

Yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world

Oh yeah

© 1968 George Douglas, Bob Thiele

Sorry I’m Late!!

I was too busy, this morning, dancing with the cat…

Actually, I was busy scribbling away at something else. But here I am now. And I’m getting geared up to work with Peitor on Abstract Absurdity Productions stuff!

I think!

Loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that since the pandemic started to really explode across everything, Abstract Absurdity Productions has had some problems getting itself focused. (And to be honest, and not funny at all, several of Peitor’s family members here in the US now have the virus — and his 93-year-old mom is quarantined in Italy and has been throughout the pandemic — so it is really getting emotionally tense for him. So, really, we do just play it by ear and see what he feels up to at any given time, you know?)

But we do at least plan on working today, getting the synopsis together for our micro short film, Lita måste gå! (aka “Lita’s Got to Go!”). And I haven’t done a single solitary other thing for the web site — which was supposed to launch tomorrow — because I haven’t been able to focus on anything for very long.

Although I am getting really good at staring. And also at pacing around. And also at staring at all my many half-finished projects in stacks on the floor of my bedroom. I’ve gotten really, really good at all these things.

Nick Cave just sent out one of his Red Hand Files letter things. It was very, very interesting indeed. You can read it at that link. I know it probably seems weird to say this (to think this) but I keep feeling that underneath all of this, we are all blessed in some hard to define way. In ways that maybe we won’t be able to understand until time has passed, or perhaps in the next life, you know?

I keep feeling that when a non-pandemic life resumes for those of us who find ourselves still here, it will bring with it a “new normal” that will transcend anything we’ve known before now. I’m not sure in what way, but I feel it will be worth all of this. I guess we’ll find out.

I, personally, have developed a sort of “intense apathy” that I have never had before. Buy that, I guess I mean that each day feels very much under a microscope, yet things that usually matter so much to me, just flow by my awareness like water going down to the sea or something. Things still matter to me, but I can’t control anything at all. Nothing whatsoever. Just waiting. It’s not necessarily sad, or anything; just waiting.

I’m still able to laugh (a lot) when friends call on the phone. I can still feel an intensity of joy that flows through me all day, every day — an undercurrent of my own Identity that is riding out the outer current, the experience of “Now.” There is a real joy in “beingness” that still feels very sacred to me.

And I am also totally loving being fucking asleep. I am so thankful for sleep. Escape. Wake-up. Then see how & where life begins again. (For most of my adult life, I had trouble sleeping — anxiety issues. Ever since that man came into my life and then died a couple of summers ago, I have no sleep issues anymore. Isn’t that interesting?)

(I apologize in advance for my typos. I’ve noticed I have a lot lately. I try to go in and correct them, but I still don’t catch all of them.)

I cut my hair on Sunday. Just trimming off the dead ends, as I do every few months. But I am usually so intensely precise about it. Yet this time, there’s a part in front that is not even.  A part that’s a little tiny bit longer, but I have decided that I love the asymmetry of it. And asymmetry is usually something I have no tolerance for! I don’t think it’s actually noticeable — but the fact that I am just letting it go is kind of unheard of for me.

So we shall see who I will be as the months go by, right?  (Hopefully someone who has nice, even hair but I guess we’ll find out!)

Okay, gang. I need to get ready for my meeting here. I might post again later. I hope you’ve been having a good Tuesday, wherever you are in the world.  Don’t forget to count your blessings, okay? Counting them is how they multiply. Being aware of all the good things is how you recognize and become more and more aware of more good things that are coming. And they always do arrive when you care enough to expect them. All righty.

Thanks for visiting, gang.  I leave you with the song that was in my head when I awoke this morning at 4 AM, and was thinking about someone I consider my dearest friend in the world. And I share it now with you, too, okay? I love you guys. See ya.

“Lean On Me”

Sometimes in our lives
We all have pain, we all have sorrow.
But if we are wise,
We know that there’s always tomorrow.

Lean on me when you’re not strong
I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on
For it won’t be long
‘Til I’m gonna need somebody to lean on.

Please swallow your pride
If I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill those of your needs
That you won’t let show.

You just call on me, brother, when you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on.
I just might have a problem that you’ll understand,
We all need somebody to lean on.

Lean on me when you’re not strong
And I’ll be your friend I’ll help you carry on
For it won’t be long
‘Til I’m gonna need somebody to lean on

You just call on me, brother, when you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on.
I just might have a problem that you’ll understand,
We all need somebody to lean on.

If there is a load
You have to bear
That you can’t carry
I’m right up the road
I’ll share your load
If you just call me.

Call me if you need a friend
Call me, call me, uh-huh
Call me when you need a friend
Call me if you ever need a friend
Call me, call me
Call me, call me
Call me, call me
Call me, call me
Call me if you need a friend
Call me, call me
Call me, call me
Call me, call me
Call me, call me
Call me

© 1972 Bill Withers

Before I Say Goodnight…

Interesting day here, gang.

I did take a look at the manuscript for the novel-in-progress, Down to the Meadows of Sleep: The Hurley Falls Mystery, and I really liked it! So I’m going to do a little work on that and see where it takes me. (I haven’t done any work on it since the summer of 2018 — right when I met the man that I fell in love with who then died.)

My ex-husband in NYC called me this morning to see how I was getting along, and I told him about my problem with focusing right now, and he encouraged me to focus on writing as little as one page a day, on any project at all, so that I could begin to feel like I was making some progress. And so I did that and it really worked. I feel a lot better.

And apparently the Vice President of the United States, Mike Pence, reads my blog, because I saw him doing an interview today on Instagram (of all places) wherein he talked about the number of people in the US who were taking the Covid 19 virus test and testing negative, and he said that these are the numbers currently:  just under 10% in this country test positive for the virus, and over a million tests have been administered now. So that was good to hear, even though they expect that the next 2 weeks will see the virus peaking in this country.

I mentioned here recently that my ex-husband in Seattle emails me several times a day now to give me information about the virus, or to make me laugh, or just to inform me about things, in general — I wrote him this afternoon about the anxiety I feel whenever I have to leave Muskingum County and go into the next county, where they do have the virus (so far, we don’t). And how it kind of takes me a while to get back to normal after that.

And he emailed me this in return and it meant so much to me. It brought tears to my eyes. (This is a man I married 39 years ago, as of April 9th — a very long time ago. We haven’t been married anymore for a very long time, but he and I have been through a lot together — married or not.)

And so I’m sharing it with you, gang, as I say goodnight, close down my computer and go down to the kitchen to stream another episode of DCI Banks.  Listen to it and think of a friend who loves you, okay? (It’s probably me!!) Thanks for visiting. I do love you guys. Stay well. See ya.

“You’ve Got A Friend”

When you’re down and troubled,
And you need some love and care,
And nothing, nothing is going right
Close your eyes and think of me,
And soon I will be there
To brighten up even your darkest night.

You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I’ll come running to see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I’ll be there
You’ve got a friend

If the sky above you grows dark and full of clouds
And that old north wind begins to blow
Keep your head together and call my name out loud
Soon you’ll hear me knocking at your door

You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I’ll come running to see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I’ll be there
And I’ll be there, yes I will.

Now, ain’t it good to know that you’ve got a friend
When people can be so cold?
They’ll hurt you, yes, and desert you
And take your soul if you let them,
Oh, but don’t you let them

You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I’ll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I’ll be there, yes I will.
You’ve got a friend

You’ve got a friend
Ain’t it good to know, you’ve got a friend?
Ain’t it good to know?
Ain’t it good to know?
Ain’t it good to know, you’ve got a friend?

Oh yeah, now
Oh, you’ve got a friend
Yeah, baby
You’ve got a friend
Oh yeah…
You’ve got a friend

© 1971 Carole King

The world of author Marilyn Jaye Lewis