So much joy, plus sinus headache! Plus cricket!

Yes, I have a sinus headache! Too much humidity around here.

And yes, we have a cricket! In the laundry room.  Nothing but an omen for so much good luck.  However, it is 1 cricket against 8 cats. I am trying to get them to understand that the omen of good luck pertains to all 9 of us in the house (10, I guess, if you include the cricket — 20 million of us, if you include all the spiders), and not just to me! ME (to cats): Please don’t kill the cricket!! This is good luck for all of us! CATS (to each other): What the fuck is her fucking deal, goddamn it??!! She keeps letting that thing get away.

Anyway. Since I last wrote, the Hurley Falls Mysteries has continued to explode. I am so serious. I am just loving the writing of this book. It has been such a long time since I was able to really, really love the thing I was writing at any given time.

I’d been praying for this. Well, I’d been praying for 2 things, actually. The first was that I prayed for a new Muse — an actual Muse, so that I wouldn’t just fade into the nothingness of being bored to death with my own writing, which was rapidly happening. (Literally, dying from boredom, as in, starting each day saying, “okay, once the cats are gone, I’m ready to die” because even though I have so many projects in the fire, and people are sort of counting on me to keep writing, if I don’t truly love my characters and the stories they’re telling, I can take or leave all of it, and more and more, I was siding on the side of leaving it. Until — as loyal readers of this lofty blog are painfully aware,  the month of June arrived and the Muse burst into my life with a vengeance and everything, absolutely everything in my life, turned around. Almost as if the last 20 years of my life disappeared overnight,  and I was suddenly, once again, the woman I was 20 years ago, before I chose to go down some really, really misguided roads.)

The other thing I prayed for (which was sort of a counterpart prayer) was that I could somehow create a story and characters I loved for the Hurley Falls Mysteries. I was okay with the quality of the writing I was turning out, but I was not responding to any of my characters at all.   I could not give them energy.

So, anyway, the Muse arrived in June (in spirit) and took over. He did a ton of “housecleaning” for me, as it were. And just blew my life open — my heart, my mind, my creativity, my sexuality. And, in an unexpected move, I was suddenly making tons and tons of notes on that memoir I had told those publishers in England (my friends, actually) that I was “working on” last year.  Then, just as suddenly as the memoir notes poured out of me (pages, and pages and pages, almost all coming forth at 4 AM most days), the Hurley Falls Mysteries suddenly reappeared in this awesome form, that frankly, I couldn’t really believe.

Suddenly they were characters that I really loved, and they surprise me everyday with the stories they want to tell. They’re funny, sexy, dark, vulnerable, rude, and unexpected characters — almost all of them drawn from the actual founders of this crazy town I now live in, all of them buried in the graveyard a couple blocks from me — having been dead now for nearly 200 years.

I was with my friend Diane yesterday, for the first time since we went to see the Kirtland Temple with the Mormon missionaries. And I was telling her about what has been happening to me with my writing now, and about how the Hurley Falls Mysteries are going. She  knows this town now, too, and knows why I respond so strongly to it. But yesterday, she said, “Marilyn, maybe you lived there in another lifetime. The spirits just come right to you.”

It is weird how that happens here. I thought at first that it was this old house — that it was some sort of friendly portal to the spirits of this town. But now I wonder if it could just be my heart that is so open to them. They do seem like friends to me.

Well, I’ve had an incredible bunch of days since I last blogged here. I had quite a staggering phone chat with my first husband. I won’t, of course, detail it here because it is personal to him.  And I’m guessing that it bothers him enough that I write about him at all here on the blog but he is too polite to say that, however, it is sufficient to say that after we hung up, I was literally speechless. Just sort of staring at the wall and wondering which marriage he was talking about. Certainly not the one I was in with him, because  all I remember is that he was perfect and I was just a relentlessly opinionated bitch who was fucked -up all the time (bourbon and pills — this was back when you could still get pharmaceutical grade Black Beauties.) (Yes, if you know what pharmaceutical grade Black Beauties were, picture that kind of speed on 101-proof bourbon, and then picture yourself marrying that….) (And no, they weren’t prescribed for “attention deficit disorder” back then, because, back then, no one had that — we just wanted to stay awake, lose weight, fuck our brains out and act insane.) (I think he married me primarily because, back then, I looked a lot like Jackie O. on the outside and he thought I had class. Sadly, I was Dennis Hopper on the inside…)

Then, to immediately follow-up that phone conversation, that very same day, I got a proposal of marriage, for the first time in years. From a man who also used to think I looked like Jackie O. on the outside, but who knows darn well what I am like on the inside and still wants to marry that. I was so touched by that, really. I can’t even tell you how much. But I would much rather just be very frisky now & then companions because, among other complications that would be involved, I don’t want to leave this town and move back to Manhattan. Ever.

Still, you can probably guess by now that me and marriage is not the best idea, anyway. I don’t see myself getting married again — except maybe to the gorgeous guy at work. I’d marry him in a heartbeat, and not just for the sex, but because I am still so good  at making misguided decisions based on all the wrong things when it would not be in the best interests of any of the people involved. Those are the kinds of marriages that I excel at!

(In seriousness, though, I say that about him because from my lofty viewpoint of my advancing age and all my varied experiences of life, of people, the world, the spirit, and because I know I knew him in another life, I can see him from a wider perspective. I can see that his soul is already amazing. That his life has the potential for an inner landscape that will be amazing — if he allows it. You know.  I guess I would want to marry him in order to remind him, 24/7, to allow it. To let the mundane go, and allow his inner world to get amazing. I would marry him for that, and of course, the sex.)

All right, gang. On that note.  I’m outta here! Gotta get back to the world of Hurley Falls. Thanks for visiting. Have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world.

(I leave you with this — one for the Muse. Seriously. “I can only thank God it was not too late”.)

 

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