A Little Too Industrious For My Taste!

Wow, gang.  When it was all said and done, yesterday sorta, kinda sucked.

I probably shouldn’t say it like that and should look at the positive stuff instead, but for whatever petulant reason, I don’t feel like doing that right now.

Just as I was getting down to work on the play yesterday, something — I don’t recall now what it was — reminded me that I had to update the Life Story Rights for two (living) people who are characters in Tell My Bones and that I also still needed to send them their additional option money. And if I don’t do this stuff, it doesn’t matter how good the play is, no one will produce it.

Funny how you can sort of happily overlook stuff like that in your creative frenzy of being a writer!

What this means is that I had to stop everything and do a whole lot of fucking typing yesterday. Boring legal typing. Pages of it. So boring that you would rather do anything else imaginable.

I would type about half a page and then have to flop down onto the bed and stare out the window, I was so bored. Or take a nap. Or go take a shower. Or discover a Pinterest page with a whole lot of sexy photos of the (now very) late Tom Petty from when he was about 31 years old and try not to cry.

You know, really important stuff like that.

I didn’t finish typing the darn documents (10 pages) until after 6pm. It dragged out for the whole darn day because I just couldn’t stay focused. It was just so boring. (And every single word has to be correct or it won’t hold up in a court of law, which you hope it won’t come to anyway.)

And then I realized that I am still sort of grieving. Definitely, things are still not 100% right with me, emotionally. And I did that thing again, where I ate half a bag of tortilla chips last night instead of forcing myself to eat a real dinner. I hate when I do that because it just ends up making me feel sick. Even though they’re organic, non-GMO, multi-grain chips, they still have a ton of salt and carbs. That’s the 2nd night this week that I’ve done that, so I think I just won’t bring those chips into the house anymore. (Depriving myself of something I love is always my “fallback” response.)

Normally, I have the most stupidly healthy diet that you can possibly imagine. You wouldn’t even want to imagine it because it would just bore you to tears. (For instance, if I do eat chips, I eat only seven, because it gives me 3 grams of protein and not too many calories. I am that weird — seven chips. I count them out and then that’s what I eat.  Or I allow myself 28 grams of dark chocolate a day — primarily for brain health, although I love dark chocolate. This amounts to 5 tiny squares, that I space throughout the day.  It’s really that insane around here.) But because of that, a half a bag of chips at once is a real assault on me now and it made me feel so sick. For hours.

(And I don’t think of this as being neurotic, per se. And it’s not that I wish to live forever, because I sure don’t. But if I’m going to be even still alive next week, I want to be healthy and look as good as I possibly can. I’m fucking past middle age here. This is about vanity, gang; not neurosis.)

Crap. Anyway.

But grief is so weird, right? It just gets in there and short-circuits your brain. Even while you can see it happening, you just don’t get in there and stop it. It would take too much out of you. (Or out of me, in this instance.)

I wound up going to bed at 9:30pm because I was just so emotionally exhausted. I didn’t want to cry or be depressed; I just wanted to sleep and forget. And I turned out the light and THEN I happened to glance at my phone (ringer off) and noticed a TON of texts! From my friend in Houston, battling the cancer; from my sister, going in for surgery today. From some people I don’t know on Instagram. It was crazy. I was trying so hard to be polite, you know? Reply to the texts, then turn over and try to go to sleep. But I’d turn over and only see that whole corner of the room behind my head  light up with more texts.

Jesus, this went on for over an hour. All these texts. And a couple of the conversations were upsetting me — and I was trying to tell myself not to judge; to be tolerant. To just let people live their own lives and make their own choices.

But then I thought, I better make sure my (birth) mom is okay, so then I texted her. But she of course is more rational and didn’t reply; she was likely having a beer and a cigarette and thinking: fuck if I’m gonna get in the middle of these crazy-texting daughters of mine…

Anyway, I finally fell asleep while in the middle of my friend in Houston sending me photos of meteorites and chondrites that he works on at NASA that have fallen from the sky and are billions of years old… (It was actually cool but I fell asleep anyway.)

So that was me, yesterday. I got a lot done but I went kicking and screaming into doing it. (Oh, except that I am now up to Episode 4 of Ken Burns’ Jazz and it is just a great episode. Each episode is about 2 hours, so it’s taking me awhile.)

One really cool thing that happened yesterday: Nick Cave’s Red Hand Files thing was amazing! He essentially gave a fan in Serbia the clothes off his back!! You can read it here.

Tonight, his Conversations resume in Essen, Germany.  I’m guessing no one can top that theater in Wiesenbad, though. So far, Wiesenbad, Montreal, and (I think) Helsinki (?) had the most beautiful theaters.

Oh, and if you check out the a1000Mistakes blog out of Australia, he has a link to a long but really cool bunch of interviews regarding an upcoming tribute to Rowland S. Howard: Pop Crimes — The Songs of Rowland S. Howard. You can read it here.

Rowland S. Howard_4

Okay, well. The director of the play just texted me from NYC and asked how I was doing with the throughline of the new character arc, so I have to get moving here. Because my reply to his question was probably not as forthcoming as it could have been… So let me get at it here.

I hope Thursday is good to you, gang, wherever you are in the world. We don’t get out of this world alive — as we all know if we read that Jim Morrison bio from about 30 years ago:

NoOneGetsOutOfHereAlive.jpg

However, it still seems like a wanted thing — making the best of being here while we are. So I hope you have a good day. I leave you with more Duke Ellington, just because it makes me feel good. If you’re having an iffy sort of day, give it a spin and it’ll get you on a better track — all puns intended. All righty. I love you guys. Thanks for visiting. See ya.

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