Just When You Think You’re Cats Are Good for Nothing….

One of them brings you tea in bed!

Yes, I know — don’t say it!! I can give my cats the virus…. So, no, I haven’t actually allowed them to bring me any tea.

I’m feeling noticeably better this morning. However, it’s the same darn thing: As soon as I start moving around, go downstairs and get the breakfast, etc., I get worn out again. All I can really safely do is lie on my back and scroll through Instagram endlessly. Or prop myself up on more pillows and read either Love in the Time of Cholera or THIS (which arrived on my kitchen porch yesterday!!):






This book weighs a ton, though. So I actually have to sit up to read this one. It is quite entrancing, I have to say.  (This is the companion book to Nick Cave’s art exhibit that will open at some point soon in Copenhagen. I am finding the book very, very, very interesting, indeed.)

And then, when I lie on my side, hug my various pillows and stare in the direction of my night table, I can continue to stream movies on my iPad! Last night, I began watching Patrick Melrose (2018), which stars Benedict Cumberbatch. It originally ran on Showtime, which I didn’t subscribe to so I didn’t get to see it, but now it’s streaming free on Amazon. So I’m watching it. It is really well done but very intense. Pushes many, many, many of my childhood/young adult buttons (frightening parents, suicidal tendencies, massively out of control drug abuse), but so far, I’m handling it. It really is very well done.

Well, today is Holy Saturday. And tonight is the Easter Vigil. I have no plans to do anything at all but lie in bed and do the various aforementioned things, as well as sleep a lot. But it’s kind of good, you know, because all this enforced downtime and alone-time gives me a whole lot of time to ponder things, and that’s probably my favorite thing on Earth to do! So, as long as I’m still breathing okay, I won’t complain.

(I am kinda wondering what’s gonna happen when I run out of food, though. Although Kara texts every day, to see if I need anything. I just hate to have her go out into the virus to buy me stuff and then drive for a total of 50 miles just to drop it all off on my porch. I guess we’ll see. Within the next few days, I am going to run out of food.)

All righty, that’s it for now. I’m going back to bed. I hope you are having a good weekend, wherever you are in the world!!Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!






What An Interesting Night

First of all, if you honor Good Friday in some way, I hope it is a meaningful day for you and that the next 48 hours help you find your way to things that you might not even know you’re seeking.

On another note…

Last evening was really something around here. Another heavy wind kicked up from out of nowhere and not only carried off more pieces of my neighbor’s privacy fence, but it also took an entire strip of roof off of my barn (!!!!). And all I could do was stand there at my kitchen window and watch it happen and then look at it lie there in the intensely overgrown grass of my insane backyard.

I’m sort of praying that a group of Amish men come trotting by in their horse-drawn buggy and say, “Hey, can we fix that barn for you?” (FYI — Amish people are really, really good at building barns…)

Oh, Lordy.

Anyway, I got really sick yesterday evening, too. The breathing problems came swooping back, worse than ever, and just hung around for several hours.

Late afternoon, I suddenly found that my appetite had returned and I was really excited about that. So I went downstairs and actually cooked myself some dinner. Then ate it. Then washed all the dishes and put them away… and then discovered that I had completely worn myself out by doing that and could no longer breathe.

And then right at that moment was when my dad called to see how I was doing and he got so panicky, listening to me trying to talk/breathe, that it only alarmed me more.

I do those breathing exercises to help keep my lungs from getting pneumonia, so I did those every hour, but other than that, I tried not to move for the remainder of the night and then  managed to sleep for 7 uninterrupted hours.

I’m much better right now but, obviously, I can’t keep getting out of bed until I’m really back to normal. Plus, now, every single person I know — all of whom mean well — but they keep warning me that I can give the virus to my cats.  Yes. Every single person keeps telling me that I can give the virus to my cats!! And that alone freaks me out and is exhausting to hear because it’s not like I can get up enough energy to clean at this point, you know?

But anyway… I am feeling better right now.

I was hoping to do Holy Communion today. It doesn’t take a lot of energy, but apparently, even a little energy is too much right now. If I can’t do it today, I sure hope that by Sunday, I can. Here is my Communion kit, in case you’re interested! The outside, and the inside:













I love this kit. I haven’t taken Communion in a while, though. It was starting to feel too automatic, so I stopped. (OMG — Nick Cave is in there!! Too funny. He is, like, everywhere, isn’t he??)

All righty, gang. Have a Good Friday, wherever you are in the world, okay? Thanks for visiting. I’m going back to bed now. I love you guys. See ya.

A Windy, Grey Day

After having a couple of really lovely hours yesterday evening — up in the 70s Fahrenheit, sunny, warm, gorgeous — the temperature is plummeting now, down to the 40s. And it is now cloudy, windy and grey.

But it’s okay, because God knows, I’m not going anywhere.

I can’t tell yet if I feel better today. I’m breathing better, but I am ridiculously tired. My main complaint remains the short battery life of my blue tooth speaker.  The hard-wired speakers for my iPad are down in the kitchen. And up here in bed, I rely on a cute little blue tooth speaker that, while aesthetically pleasing because it is a pretty frosted pink color with a really pretty blue light, it in fact cost me all of five dollars and, you know, needs re-charging quite frequently and, of course, the outlet is a mile away from the bed.

I have finished watching all the episodes of DCI Banks, and am now working my way through the most recent Agatha Christie re-makes from the BBC. And even though this current batch of remakes are my least favorite adaptations of Agatha Christie novels that I have ever watched, they still draw me in because the acting and the sets are incredible, but  — truly — as if on cue, the very moment the episode reaches its zenith of suspense, the little speaker shuts off and needs to be re-charged.

It’s actually funny, its that reliable.

Anyway. So I’d already watched The Pale Horse before I got sick, then I watched The ABC Murders — and even though I love John Malkovich just generally, it was my least favorite Poirot adaptation of all time. There was way too much bloody murder and lurid sex in it! I know — normally lurid sex is a deeply wanted commodity, but not in Agatha Christie, for godsakes!! It’s like an affront to the senses. I really found it incredibly annoying, although the very same scenes in some other writer’s TV-movie adaptation would have been really desirable and I would have thought: Wow, that scene was really well done (because, actually they were really well written, dark and troubling sex scenes, just not for Agatha Christie…).

And now I am watching Ordeal By Innocence (2018), which, so far, is the best of the lot.  I am trying to pace watching it with my constant need to sleep, so that the blue tooth is re-charging while I am doing the same!

All righty. That said, I need to go collapse in bed again. I leave you with another John Prine song, Spanish Pipedream (aka Blow Up Your TV), from off his debut album in 1971. (John Prine died late Tuesday night from complications with COVID 19. He was 73.)

Even though the song is really old, I identify with this particular song a lot at this stage of my life — and not because I identify with strippers, or Vietnam War draft-dodgers on their way to Canada, or with peaches, or having lots of children. I identify with this song because when I moved out here to the country and bought what I consider to be my first true home ever, I gave up my ministry. And I also got rid of my TV service.

Before I moved here to Crazeysburg, I had my little black shirt with the white collar, and I used to work a lot with the elderly, make home Communion visits to the housebound (or in nursing homes), and counsel people, mostly for grief & loss.  But I knew that the path I was on with Jesus was leading me farther and farther away from what “regular” Christians needed from me as a minister — and that is putting it mildly.

Out here in the middle of nowhere, with no more formal ministry of any kind —  I have done a whole lot of communing with Jesus privately, wherein I don’t have to answer to any established dogma.

So I love how the chorus of this song sort of  reflects what I personally went through when I moved out here to the country. It’s such a joyful song.

All righty. Thanks for visiting, gang. Enjoy your Maundy Thursday (Jesus’s Last Supper) wherever you are in the world!! I love you guys. See ya.

“Spanish Pipedream (Blow Up Your TV)”

She was a level-headed dancer on the road to alcohol
And I was just a soldier on my way to Montreal
Well she pressed her chest against me
About the time the juke box broke
Yeah, she gave me a peck on the back of the neck
And these are the words she spoke

Blow up your TV throw away your paper
Go to the country, build you a home
Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches
Try and find Jesus on your own

Well, I sat there at the table and I acted real naive
For I knew that topless lady had something up her sleeve
Well, she danced around the bar room and she did the hoochy-coo
Yeah she sang her song all night long, tellin’ me what to do


Well, I was young and hungry and about to leave that place
When just as I was leavin’, well she looked me in the face
I said “You must know the answer.”
“She said, “No but I’ll give it a try.”
And to this very day we’ve been livin’ our way
And here is the reason why

We blew up our TV threw away our paper
Went to the country, built us a home
Had a lot of children, fed ’em on peaches
They all found Jesus on their own

© 1971 John Prine

The little baby elephant has left the building

I slept 11 straight hours last night, and somewhere during the worst thunderstorm I can remember hearing in a long time, my fever broke and I awoke this morning to find that the cute little baby elephant who’s been sitting on my chest since Sunday night had departed.

Amazon.com : Funnytree 7x5ft Rustic Wood Floral Elephant Party ...

I’m still having trouble breathing but that horrible weight in my lungs is gone.

However, before I collapse right back into bed again, I want to give you a few happy updates!

Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds have posted the new dates for their UK & European Ghosteen tour!  (And now that I know I will be in Zurich on June 3rd, 2021, this pretty much means that I can count on everything important in my professional life, in the US and Canada,  being scheduled for June 3rd, 2021, as well!!)

Okay. I sure hope I’m kidding about that!

Also, Nick Cave sent out another Red Hand Files letter today, this one talks about the new, utterly amazing Dylan song, “Murder Most Foul.” (I’m still listening to it, gang. And when you consider that the song is 17 minutes long, it’s quite an investment of focus.)

An interesting thing about the song — I texted YouTube links for the song to all of my friends right when the song came out. Well, to the ones that I knew liked Bob Dylan. And Kara was the first one who texted me back about it, and she had the same first-response that I did. And she nailed it: “That violin…” she said.

I know. That violin. It sears right into you; it manages to both chill and awaken your heart. It’s incredible.

All right. I need to get back to bed, so I will post the sad news. John Prine had been struggling with COVID 19 since the end of March and he finally succumbed last night. He was definitely one of those people who had seriously complex underlying health issues, so I’m sad to say that I was not surprised he succumbed. Still, I wish he could have gone in a less horrible way.

John Prine’s songs were a huge part of the 70s and 80s for me, being that, at that point in my life, I was a country/folksinger-songwriter myself. And  into the 90s, when I met Wayne and we got married, etc.,  Wayne was also a big John Prine fan. And Prine’s album, The Missing Years, was one of the cassettes (!!) we played relentlessly in the car when we drove cross-country on our honeymoon.

So I’ll leave you with 2 distinct types of John Prine songs. The bluegrass type that I feel he was best known for, and then a song from The Missing Years, that features Tom Petty, and is about James Dean, a movie star I totally love (and it also mentions my beloved Grandma’s first cousin, John Garfield!! ).

I’m gonna close now because I’m super tired, gang. Sorry for any typos. But thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya!

“That’s The Way That The World Goes ‘Round”

I know a guy that’s got a lot to lose.
He’s a pretty nice fellow but he’s kind of confused.
He’s got muscles in his head that ain’t never been used.
Thinks he owns half of this town.

Starts drinking heavy, gets a big red nose.
Beats his old lady with a rubber hose,
Then he takes her out to dinner and buys her new clothes.
That’s the way that the world goes ’round.

That’s the way that the world goes ’round.
You’re up one day and the next you’re down.
It’s half an inch of water and you think you’re gonna drown.
That’s the way that the world goes ’round.

I was sitting in the bathtub counting my toes,
When the radiator broke, water all froze.
I got stuck in the ice without my clothes,
Naked as the eyes of a clown.
I was crying ice cubes hoping I’d croak,
When the sun come through the window, the ice all broke.
I stood up and laughed thought it was a joke
That’s the way that the world goes ’round.

© 1978 John Prine

“Picture Show”

A young man from a small town
With a very large imagination
Lay alone in his room with his radio on
Looking for another station
When the static from the mouthpiece
Gave way to the sound below
James Dean went out to Hollywood
And put his picture in a Picture Show.
James Dean went out to Hollywood
And put his picture in a Picture Show.

And It’s Oh Daddy get off of your knees
Mamma why’d you have to go
Your darling Jim is out a limb
I put my picture in a Picture Show
Whoa Ho! Put my picture in a Picture Show

Hamburgers Cheeseburgers
Wilbur and Orville Wright
John Garfield in the afternoon
Montgomery Clift at night
When the static hit the mouthpiece
Gave way to the sound below
James Dean went out to Hollywood
And put his picture in a Picture Show.


A Mocca man in a wigwam sitting on a Reservation.
With a big black hole in the belly of his soul
Waiting on an explanation
While the white man sits on his fat can
And takes pictures of the Navajo
Every time he clicks his Kodak pics
He steals a little bit of soul.
Every time he clicks his Kodak pics
He steals a little bit of soul.


Yie Hi! Put my picture in a Picture Show
Here we go!
A young man from a small town
With a very large imagination…

© 1991 John Prine

I am so blessed…

Well, I am indeed, sick, gang. But it is very, very mild. So far, my only real complaint is that my blue tooth speaker has such a short battery life.  Streaming Agatha Christie movies on my iPad in bed and as soon as it gets to a key scene, the speaker will undoubtedly shut off. And so then I just go to sleep while it recharges.

But that’s the worst of it.

Alas, today I will be brief! Thanks for visiting, gang. Have a terrific Tuesday wherever you are in the world! I love you guys. See ya!!


Okay, Take 2; I Decided to Start Again

I deleted that earlier post from this morning. I just don’t want that energy going out into my world right now.  As long as I don’t have a fever,  I’m not going to dwell on it. But I am gonna just hang out in bed today.

I’ll probably post again later.

Have a good Monday, wherever you are in the world, gang!! I love you guys.

I’m still leaving you with the same music, though. Breakfast-listening song from today!

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