Sorry, I’m late. I don’t even know where to begin.

It’s one of those mornings where it would come in really handy if I still drank bourbon and/or smoked Chesterfield cigarettes.

But since I don’t, I have to rely on something like, I don’t know, taking a deep breath? Or 20? Or 1,700?

I cannot go into all the details, since this is a public blog, but wow, gang.

The simpler thing: They cut my shifts back to normal at the agency this morning. I now have what I would call a schedule that I can deal with for the rest of the month.

Which means I now have enough time leftover to lose my mind over working on both the TV pilot package and the upcoming staged reading of “The Guide to Being Fabulous” at the same time.

So I am totally cool with that.

The other thing, which I can’t go into the details about, so forgive my being cryptic —

Let’s say that someone’s father died last year — like, on or around April 17th — and he left his adopted daughter a small fortune, which she knew nothing about because the law firm handling the alleged estate had an incomplete email address for the daughter, but they had no idea. So their emails were going off into never-never-land. For let’s say 11 months.

And everyone in the remaining family has known everything about this small fortune for let’s say around 11 months, but everyone assumed the daughter was getting her emails, so no one said a single solitary word about it…

Until the daughter contacted the law firm, like, maybe, this morning –wanting a copy of her dad’s will, just as a keepsake, a memento…

And the law firm said something, like: “What the fuck is your deal? You know we’re working really hard to get everything in order here. Just shut up and be patient.”

Hmmm…… [That’s the really, really SHORT version of my morning here. But the result is that I am in a state of stupefication.] [I’m being told that “stupefication” is not really a word.]

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Anyway. Okay.

Another topic.

Yesterday evening, I was looking through some old files [BTW, if you’d like the job of being my archivist, please do not hesitate to let me know!!!! It would only take you the rest of your life to get all my writings organized!!] [BUT — you would get to play with kittens…]

Well, yesterday evening, I went looking through some old files because I wanted to see the lyrics to that song I wrote in the late 1980s that I mentioned in yesterday’s post: “This Car of My Old Man’s”.

I know for certain I have the lyrics here somewhere, because I have come across them while looking for something else. (Which is something I’m really, really good at — coming across a ton of other things while looking for something else.)

I haven’t found the lyrics yet, but, yes, I found a TON of other really interesting stuff, which kind of made my head want to explode, there was so much other stuff — and among all that other stuff, I found this!!

I used to absolutely worship James Dean for a few years, back in the 1980s. To the point where I apparently was starting to sort of look like him. I started to wear only tee-shirts and jeans. I got a pair of glasses that looked just like the kind he had back in the 1950s — horn-rimmed with clip-on shades. I even started smoking Winston cigarettes.

One morning, while waiting for the elevator at the Museum of Modern Art, a Portuguese friend of mine came up to the elevator, too, and he sort of laughed and said, “My god, Marilyn, you look like James Dean.” (I mostly dated girls back then so this wasn’t actually much of a problem.)

Anyway. Yesterday, I found this poem I wrote in the mid-1980s, so I share it here:

James Dean’s Plan

I went to L.A. to die,
Not in one grand leap, mind you, but in frames.
	I knew I could muster
	the sullenness,
	make the necessary toss of
	a cigarette butt
	and the careless flash of a 
	shy smile.
Then I’d arc my life
up the northern coast
in a dashing trajectory of vision;
Collide with
my tragic partner
in a slow-motion splatter
to timelessness,
then resume a more somber
parade
with my pine box, shipped east, marked:
Indiana’s Own
but my ticket stamped:
Hollywood’s Heaven.

(Marilyn Jaye Lewis, mid-1980s)

I have no recollection of having written this poem, but there ya go!

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Okay. Vancouver also seemed to be off the charts last night!! I’m guessing the same will happen in Seattle tonight.

Here are a couple photos I liked:

There are two shows left after tonight’s show in Seattle (which is sold out). You can buy tickets for the other two shows HERE.

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Okay, I gotta scoot because my morning disappeared.

I have 2 new rosebushes I want to plant today, and then I gotta get to work with Peitor.

Enjoy your Monday, wherever you are in the world.

Thanks for visiting.

I love you guys. See ya!

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Okay. More Emmylou!!

From 1977, her killer version of “Luxury Liner.” Written by Graham Parsons. I love singing this really loudly!! You’ll have to imagine that part. Okay. Enjoy, gang.

“Luxury Liner”

Luxury liner, forty tons of steel
If I don’t find my baby now
I guess I never will
I’ve been a long lost soul
For a long, long time
I’ve been around
Everybody ought to know what’s on my mind
You think I’m lonesome, so do I
So do I

Well, I’m the kind of girl
Who likes to make a livin’ runnin ’round
And I don’t need a stranger
To let me know my baby’s let me down
You think I’m lonesome, so do I
So do I

Luxury liner, forty tons of steel
No one in this whole wide world
Can change the way I feel
I’ve been a long lost soul
For a long long time
I’ve been around
Everybody ought to know what’s on my mind
You think I’m lonesome, so do I
So do I

c- 1967 Graham Parsons