Man, what a week

I had a lot of anger issues this week, and last night was sort of my crowning glory in all that. Of course, it coincided with my vacation being officially over and my going back to work.

(Which, again, I stress, is not really what you would call “work” because it is the easiest job I ever had, in my whole entire life. That said, though, it is still a” job,” which in and of itself is always something I chafe against…)

My night ended with me telling a co-worker, in a not so very small voice, “I so fucking hate your guts. You so fucking suck.” If it weren’t already the end of the shift, I probably would have walked out. Instead, I clocked-out and went and got really angrily into my car.

You know, all of this stems from so much stress. For years and years and years, all I did was write for a living – and I include in that career being a  publisher and a multi-media producer and a web developer, although those things came about because I was a writer first. And then of course, the publishing industry imploded and most of my publishers – smaller presses – went out of business.  By 2007, everything in my world had changed and I had to start taking part-time jobs again. And I absolutely can’t stand that, but I try to get to a place where I can at least tolerate it.

But now I’m faced with this TV pilot that needs to be not just better, but a whole fucking lot better. It has to be the same show I already wrote, but the 2 main characters have to just be absolutely unforgettable. In 9 weeks, I need to do this, so this part-time job is seriously getting in my way.

(Not to mention, but mention I will, that I have this really important theater project I’m also doing with Sandra that is going to be Off-Broadway and I cannot let anything stand in my way of that being spectacular, either. And the Helen LaFrance piece that I’m also working on is meant as a follow-up for Sandra, Off-Broadway, so I’m already thinking about a few years down the road, and how the LaFrance piece has to just sparkle right off the page, as well.

(And then, the other day, I emailed Gus Van Sant (Sr.) re: the Helen LaFrance piece and whether he wanted to be openly identified in the show or not, and he wrote back that it would be the “crowning achievement of his life” to be openly mentioned in the show; and that what he did, meaning, give Helen’s art to the world, was the most important thing he had ever done because it was his way of giving something beautiful back to the world. Mind you, this is a man whose son is, you know, a multi-Oscar-nominated director, whose films have won Oscars, and the man is telling me that being mentioned in a play Off-Broadway, will be the crowning achievement of his life… Well, talk about words having to sparkle themselves off the fucking page… And the 2 novels I’m also writing are just things I’m writing because they give me a lot of joy.)

I’m out of my mind, but I’m not stupid. I know this is where my stress is coming from.  And it’s leading me into all this anger because I feel so pressed for time. And it’s leading me back into all the suicidal crap that always sneaks in around the edges when I get overwhelmed by my life.  And that becomes emotionally crippling.  And when I feel emotionally crippled – and am trying to write at my best level – I get even angrier.

In all of this, the same man that I pissed off so terribly because I said something really, really mean to him ( see posts down below with the words  “Tuesday” in the titles). Well, let’s just say that he’s older than me, really, really successful, sort of empowered in a way I can’t imagine being in this lifetime. When he found out about MG#2, and where I was blindly/happily heading with it & even considering saying yes to a marriage proposal, he said, in a very calm, practical, forthcoming voice: “I’m sorry, Marilyn, but that’s not happening. I just want you to know that I’m going to do everything in my power to block that. You get involved with that, and it’s not going to end well for you.”

He meant, of course, the FBI and mob stuff in the Bronx, and me needing to focus really seriously on my career right now.

I’ll be damned if MG#2 didn’t completely disappear from my life directly after that conversation. Whoa. You know? Wow, dude. When you block something, you block it, don’t you?

My life is just so strange.  But at the same time, I appreciate that my welfare could matter that much to somebody.  That someone could love me that much — well. Once I finally got realistic and emotionally sober again, I saw that he was right. Me and the Mafia were never a good fit before, and god knows, I feel at my most comfortable when me and the FBI are thousands of miles apart. And when I was facing the prospects of prison time because the Federal Government considered me a pornographer that posed a threat to children, the very, very last thing I wanted was to go to prison…

I still feel that way.

Best to just sit in my room and write. Be grateful that I am loved, even if I do feel a little angry these days.

Have a good Sunday.  (I took Holy Communion again this morning. Cried the whole time. I don’t want to be this angry, suicidal person…) (Also, a new excerpt from my new novel, Blessed By Light, is at the link above (here.)

Thanks for visiting.


Sunny Saturday in the Hinterlands

First of all, there is a new excerpt from my new novel Blessed By Light at the permanent link above (

This is Chapter 7, runs approx. 4 pages, and includes sexually explicit passages, so please be forewarned.

Wow, I have to say that, yesterday, I really got some great work done on revisions of the CLEVELAND TV pilot. And it took forever, you know. I kept writing and kept feeling like it still was just so ordinary;it wasn’t happening. But after many hours (about 7 hours, I guess), it finally clicked and I have a new beginning to the pilot episode that NOW I really, really love. This amounts to the first 7 pages. Only 53 more to go…

The most difficult part of this process is letting go of the draft of the script that already exists. Reminding myself that it’s not written in stone.  When I first developed this TV pilot, I was aiming it for Christian Family broadcasting, but none of the producers who liked the pilot saw it that way. So, little by little, I have had to jettison these “values” that I had envisioned as being aimed at children. Or perhaps adolescents.

As you can probably guess, when you have children in the back of your consciousness, certain types of content changes seem inadvisable. But I’m starting to really just let it go. It ain’t aimed at Christians, anymore. I can tell you that.

I need to get this whole pilot re-written before I go to L.A., which is in about 9 weeks. It’s totally doable, except that I’m writing 2 new novels, and adapting that Helen LaFrance stage play, as well. So “not going completely crazy” is at the top of my list of Things To Do.

Today is my day to go back to work. Vacation has officially ended.

Oddly, I’m in a better space about it today than I was yesterday, so I guess that’s good. Plus I have my new Tom Petty CD to play in my car while I drive for an hour and constantly remind myself that everything, absolutely everything changes, so just hang in there.

Yep. It’ll probably be a good day. I’m going to try really hard, anyway. Hope your Saturday is terrific, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting. See ya!

Strange Encounters: Soul to Soul

This was SO beautiful. About “a higher level of spiritual connection” that we have with some people. Just so beautiful.

Spiritual Food for the Soul

Further teachings at:
Could you explain how humans are able to share a higher level connection with some people? A connection where it seems their spirits are communicating and this happens naturally between them. It is very intense. What is this?

View original post

Yes, God – Why?

I will let the sad, sad picture above do my talking for me!

Except that I will also blog at length and expound on my sorrows!

Yes. My vacation ends today. How can that be??? I know – you don’t really care about my plight because “going back to work” means that I work all of 25 hours a week at an indescribably easy job. And yet…

It still torments me that I must return.

I’ve gotten some great writing done, and some not so great writing done, but at least a lot more words are down on a lot more pages than were in existence before my 5 days off began. (I’m including today, which I am guessing will yield additional new words on additional new pages.)

Yesterday kind of sucked because not only did I wait for hours in expectation of the conference call with Sandra in NYC that never materialized (even though I was still at my desk writing the entire time, I hate when something is hanging around in my mental space while I’m trying to write; i.e., the spectre of an upcoming conference call that just vanishes into thin air and no one replies to my texts  that say, “where are you??”).

Anyway, also, yesterday, I discovered that my garden hose spigot, which has been problematic off & on since the spring began, suddenly decided to start spewing water and refused to be turned off. Right away, I thought: Crap! How long has this been happening? A fucking enormous water bill is looming on my horizon…

But, luckily, I texted Diane and she deemed my text worthy of replying to! She was actually somewhere in a reasonable vicinity of Muskingum County, so she stopped over last evening and FIXED it for me.

Plus, she hung out at my kitchen table with me for awhile and let me blow off steam and listened intently while I got a good portion of my mental garbage out of my system. (Alas, not all of my mental garbage, because then I would cease being the real me and we wouldn’t want a “me” going about her business in this world without some remnants of mental garbage tagging along, would we?)

You know, this is an example of my mental garbage. I hesitate to share it, but I will anyway. I was meditating this morning, around 6 AM. In fact, before I began my meditation, I was really looking forward to it, so I thought I was in a good space. I was doing an old Davidji guided meditation, that takes you to the seashore and then to a  beautiful forest, where there’s  a stream, and just all kinds of really relaxing wonderful, beautiful imagery. And I was doing reasonably okay with the meditation, although I was aware that some negative vibes were creeping in around the edges. But then I got to my favorite part of the meditation, which is the forest part, and suddenly, in the visualization, I pull out a handgun and shoot myself in the head and my head explodes in the forest.

I have a spirit guide who is sometimes in my meditations and sometimes not. And today, he wasn’t there, until I blew my head open and then he appeared in the forest, and he was really angry and he yelled, “What the hell did you do that for?”

I just don’t know.  I tried to piece it together and as near as I could tell, it had something to do with the imagery of the dolphins frolicking in the sea, and suddenly it seemed like there was too much love in the world that didn’t include me and suddenly I shot myself in the head.

That’s my mental garbage. Sadly, that goes on in my head a lot. Although I am really trying hard to work on having a more flexible ego; one that does not always resort to the fallback position of “killing me” whenever the idea of “love” rears its ugly head…

Well, I tried to reclaim my morning from there. I got out of bed and sent Sandra what I hope was a reasonable text, looking to re-schedule at her convenience, but reminding her that I’ve been working on this play with her for 5 years already, and that I want to be updated re: the music rehearsals, you know. Seems fair.

And I also reminded myself that even though I was unimpressed with the writing I did yesterday, at least the words are down on the page(s) and I can begin polishing them today. Life goes on.

Yes, even though vacations end, life does indeed go on.  It’s all still looking really good. Not sure why I felt the sudden need to shoot myself. (But, you know, in all honesty, this is why I don’t want guns in the house. You can undo a meditation pretty quickly, but you can’t undo the real-life version. And God knows, I can come up with some really, really bad ideas in, you know, a heartbeat.)

#AnAmericanTreasure #TomPetty

My copy of the new (I’m guessing the last) Tom Petty audio CD, An American Treasure, just arrived via UPS.

Oh my god, is it good.

And the packaging and design of this collection just blew me away, too. The photos, the commentaries, the introductions, the photos of his handwritten song lyrics (!! – I probably would have paid double just for photos of those!). Clearly, everyone involved in putting this collection together stayed up late at night trying to come up with just the right way to break my heart the moment I opened the package and to have me  staring dumbfounded at it as I sat at my kitchen table at 2 o’clock in the afternoon.

Anyway. The whole thing is just so beautiful.  I’m overwhelmed.

Okay, on other fronts. The excerpt from the new novel has been moved to its own page. Excerpts will be replaced every few days. The excerpts will be in no particular order. But, you know, the novel is so very episodic, because it’s like a cross between a love letter and journal entries, really – although it is not journal entries, it just sometimes feels like that. Anyway. It’s so episodic that random excerpts might feel just like reading the book! (Not really… the novel does tell a whole story about 2 lovers, just in really, really short chapters.)

I’m trying to keep the excerpts less on the sexually explicit side, since most of the subscribers to this blog are not actually readers of my erotic works. So it’s sort of a fine line between wanting to share sections from the new novel and not offend a bunch of people.

Okay. Gotta get back to work. Had a really great breakthrough on revisions for the CLEVELAND TV pilot, so I need to catch that before it totally disappears from my brain.

Thanks for visiting. See ya.

Greetings from Vacationland!

So far, it’s going pretty good — this first vacation of mine in about a bazillion years.

Today, I’m doing a conference call with Peitor in LA, and then tomorrow afternoon, a conference call with Sandra in NYC, but other than that, it’s just time for me to sit here at my desk and write.

It has been decided that I’ll be going to NYC in late October. The staged reading of the one-woman musical I’m working on with Sandra is finally moving forward again. I want to go hear how all the music is coming together with the actual musicians.  I do have to say that this is taking fucking forever, and I have had to work really hard on my patience and – yes – my mouth. Keeping it shut, that is. Allow people to go at their own paces, instead of at mine, which is usually warp speed.

While I’m in the city, I’m going to go see American Son at the Booth Theater on Broadway. I’m looking forward to that.

I’m also going to be going to LA sometime around early December. I need to go out there and do some face-time type stuff with some producers, but I’ve been putting it off. And Peitor flat out invited me to come stay with him because his husband is off producing a TV or movie shoot, or something like that, in Canada until mid-December. Not that I can only visit Peitor when Graham is away — I actually get along great with Graham. But this will be like old times. Peitor and I have been friends since NYC in 1985. And we can get very, very, VERY silly – which seriously annoys people who are anywhere in our vicinity (i.e., Graham).  Peitor and I can get to laughing so hard about such stupid stuff that we actually have to stop walking, stop moving, and, you know, hold up the whole caravan while we cry because we’re laughing so hard. And I have to try really really hard not to piss myself, which, unfortunately, gang, gets harder and harder now at my delightfully advancing age…

Anyway, I’m looking forward to seeing him again. Because we don’t just laugh, we talk about serious stuff, too.  He has good insight into what I would call my mental instability.  I called him by accident Monday night – you know, I meant to text him, but hit the little phone icon by mistake, and then didn’t want to hang up since he would see that I was calling him. I figured God was telling me to call him. I was having one of my issues, one of my potential brain crack-ups over my music.

Loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that Peitor, who is a music producer, will eventually be producing a record of about 12 of my early songs as part of my whole memoir thing. And for some reason, I’ve been having some serious emotional issues over my music. Or, more succinctly, over my “past” life, as it were.

I never know when things are going to rear their ugly little heads… It’s good to have a friend who knows how to steer you off of the tracks that trains are barreling down, you know?  I still struggle, sometimes, gang. I still do.

Okay.  On that note! I’m gonna get back at it around here. It is so awesome to just be on vacation. I don’t want to take this alone time to focus on all the wrong things.  Have a good one, gang. Wherever you are and with whatever you’re doing. Stay sane! I need you to set a good example for me…


Nothing says “I Need a Vacation” Like….

Why, yes, that was me who showed up at the job yesterday — on my fucking DAY OFF!!

Jesus. You know??? I’ve never done anything like that before.  I was so focused on my official vacation starting today that I was oblivious to my actual schedule.

I’d been there for nearly an hour, when for some mysterious reason, the schedule posted on the wall caught my eye. And even after having taken Holy Communion yesterday morning, the first really, really LOUD words out of my mouth, were “Jesus fucking God! Today’s my fucking day-off!!”

I really feel like I’ve been losing it lately. For real. I am so worn out. I need this vacation time so bad. You know, getting to & from my part-time job requires an hour’s worth of driving, so that’s frustrating, too. And all day yesterday, I had been getting such good work done on both the stage adaptation of the Helen LaFrance script, along with revisions on the TV pilot. But I kept looking at the clock, and looking at the clock, and looking at the clock until it was the absolute minute that I had to close the laptop and dash out the door, do all that driving and get to work on my fucking day off…

Anyway. My vacation has begun. I’m not planning on doing anything but writing, yoga, meditation, and a couple of phone conferences with L.A. and NYC.  I am super looking forward to it.

For the past 10 or 15 years, maybe even longer, all of my “vacations” have actually been trips to various cities, foreign countries, etc., to do readings, to sign books, to do some kind of career-promoting work.

This vacation is a real vacation – by my own definition. No airports, no cabs, no insanity. No schedules. No stress. Just me, my laptop, my wonderful old house in this quiet tiny town.

On another topic…

Even though it’s likely still a couple months away before I’ll be done with this new novel and promoting it (I think I’m going to self-publish it – the new erotic novel, that is, Blessed By Light), I need to upgrade my iphone and start actually using my Instagram account. (@marilynjayelewis). Feel free to follow me there. I have exactly 2 photos of cats posted. Seriously, I never use it, but I’m going to have to start doing that.

Anyway,  I also updated the “About” page here on the blog to include more photos of me at various times in my career(s).  Including this  publicity photo from 1984, when I was very much still a singer/songwriter in NYC:

New York City 1984 – photo c: Scot Gamble

Yes, my hair used to be really long — as well as brunette! I am 24 in this photo. And I was really skinny and tall. I’m still tall…

All righty.  I’m gonna get cracking here, gang, and grab some more coffee. Here’s hoping that if you’re going off to work today, you’re actually supposed to be there. Thanks for visiting!! See ya.