Okay, you guys. You honestly make me laugh — I’m not being facetious, either.
Even bludgeoning you with free literary stuff does not deter your desire for — I don’t know, what should we call it: porn? (I hate to call it porn.)
Anyway. You continue to avoid free downloads of Twilight of the Immortal like a plague, and still go straight for the (intensely old already) early erotica and Freak Parade — at 60% off. (See this morning’s post.)
Honestly, when I saw that, it just made me laugh. I tried so darn hard to entice you! But it’s all good — because I wrote all of it.
Anyway. The BIG news is:
Peitor and I finally finished the script for “Lita måste gå!” (aka “Lita’s Got to Go!”). I am so serious!! It’s done!
It comes to 19 and a half pages, and will run between 8 to 10 minutes, and took us 15 months to write. But it is done. And I think it’s going to be beautiful and confounding and absurd.
And I hate to have to admit that I got a little testy toward the end there today, but I did. And I really, really tried hard not to go in that direction, but there was a shot toward the end that I really wanted — that we’d discussed last year sometime — and it looked like it was going to bite the dust.
I don’t usually get adamant about any of the shots. But once in a blue moon, a shot will just feel really important to me. So at least for now, it’s in the script. It might not actually work on film, but we’ll see.
And in the meantime, it is done!!
So next, we do the synopsis and then the pitch deck, and then we wait for the entire world to come out of quarantine…
I’m still working on the new web site. The basics are there, but a lot of the actual information has to be typed in. So it’s still kind of on schedule, even though there’s no urgency right now, because of the virus.
New topic.
Luckily, today it rained really, really hard for quite an extended period and when I went into my downstairs bathroom, I discovered a good deal of the ceiling down on the floor. Along with a great big bunch of water.
Stellar homeowner that I am, I went straight to the cats and told them to fix it… It quickly descended into chaos so I might have to fix it myself. We’ll see.
Meanwhile…
I’m gonna go get on zoom now and listen to those new plays on Fresh Ink, coming out of Toronto, Canada. Have a wonderful Friday night, wherever you are in the world, gang, okay? I love you guys. See ya!
Here, it is raining –we even had a bona fide thunderstorm during the night. The temperature is supposed to go up to nearly 70 degrees Fahrenheit by this afternoon — and then plunge down to about 28 degrees by tomorrow morning!!
So, yeah. Spring.
But I’m happy!
Before I forget, in honor of everyone being stuck at home all over the world, I’m participating in a month-long special sale at Smashwords. All of my Muse Revisited titles are 60% off. So is Freak Parade. And Twilight of the Immortal is absolutely free!
But you have to purchase them through Smashwords to get the discount, not Amazon or iTunes, or any of the other outlets that sell my eBooks. However, Smashwords gives you the option to download the eBook in any format you need.
I chose to make Twilight of the Immortal free because it is probably the best book I’ve ever written, but because it isn’t erotica, almost no one buys it. I honestly think I’ve sold less than 1000 copies of this novel. And it’s been in print since 2010 (it came out first on a very small press, then I got the rights back and published it myself electronically because the publisher had filled it with typos that enraged me.)
But anyway, it’s been in print for 10 years now and no one buys it and it’s a great book, but it’s not erotic. No explicit anal sex or fellatio or anything — although anal sex and fellatio are heavily implied in many passages…
For instance:
After Valentino has died (at the peak of his fame), Rosemary, the novel’s protagonist, returns to Hollywood to marry her best friend, Mitch. Mitch is a very successful movie producer but he is notoriously gay in an era when it is still illegal to be gay and the Government is cracking down on any suspiciously single men employed by the movie studios (this is fact). Rosemary recalls the final days she spent with Rudolph Valentino, after his notorious divorce, while she was employed as his “assistant”:
I drank the champagne down. The bubbles seeped into my veins and made tiny explosions all up and down my spine. Rodolfo; it was the name he’d been born with, that he preferred to the Americanized “Rudolph.” The moment had finally come where he’d told me to call him Rodolfo and so I did. He whispered in Italian, “Abbi coraggio.” Then more closely, right in my ear because now we were in bed together, naked, he said, “Be brave.” It had sounded so tender, so bewitching, and so erotically compelling that I could not resist him; I leaned down in the dark and did what I’d seen the boys do. In truth, I’d had no idea what I was doing and I didn’t care. I didn’t want to resist him; I was so glad that Natacha was gone, at last. I knew life was spiraling downward; I couldn’t ignore the hypnotic pull of his private hell. I was trapped in it, too, like it was quicksand. He was miserable, lonely, aching without her. I was clumsy but I tried to fill the space. Mostly there were men everywhere filling up his nights and days, not just with erotic favors but with polo, endless games of it; Rudy loved his horses. And there was also Pola Negri, but she was only acting a part and grasping at more and more fame, ensuring she was on Rudy’s arm whenever the cameras came out. I wasn’t competing with her; a rising star. I wasn’t competing with anybody. I just wanted my moment in the sun. His sun — I wanted to bask in his attention finally. But I overplayed my hand and, for me, the sun only shone after midnight when the lights were out, when the decent world was dark and the house was otherwise empty.
Or here, where Rosemary’s soon-to-be (gay) husband is informing his lover, Jim, that he’s being tossed to the curb because, in order to save his career, Mitch is marrying Rosemary:
The raised voices on the patio grew more heated. I tried to focus on the golden bubbles bursting at the rim of my wine glass and block out what the voices were saying, but it was next to impossible. “How convenient,” Jim practically shrieked, as if to doubly-ensure I could hear him. “A girl like that is almost as good as the real thing, isn’t she, Mitch? Everyone knows it — what she was up to with Valentino. It was all over Hollywood. With a girl like her, just turn out the lights and you’ll never notice the difference.”
So, yeah, there’s anal sex in the novel, too, but it’s not explicit at all.
There’s tons of lesbian sex in it, too, although back then they were called Saphhists. A lot of those scenes are between the young Rosemary and the true love of her life, the very poor, very abused, very worldly, very Irish Molly McClellan, who works as a Dresser for Alla Nazimova, who was called “Madame” (and who, in case you don’t know the name, was, at one point, one of the most famous actresses in the world and a totally “out” lesbian):
Molly waited expectantly for me to finish what I was saying, but I knew I was lying, or at the very least embellishing what had happened. “Go on,” she encouraged me. “Spill it; what did she tell you?”
“Nothing, just that… I don’t know — someday.”
“Ah, go on, Rosie. She’s practically thirty-eight; you’re just a kid.”
“Not anymore I’m not,” I warned her. “I’ve done things now.”
“Oh, and what have you done?”
“Plenty.”
“I mean, that a woman like Madame would like? Have you been to the lady doctors yet?”
“What lady doctors?”
“The midwives down on Broadway.”
“Why would I go to a midwife? I’m not having a baby.”
“It’s not for girls who are having babies, you ninny who thinks she knows everything. It’s a code word. These midwives cure hysteria; they do things to you with their hands. Things you wouldn’t believe.”
“Like what?”
“They pull up your skirt and take down your drawers, for one thing, and they touch you down there and make you feel things with their hands — until your eyes roll up in your head.”
She had my attention there; that was certain. I’d never been anywhere where a midwife had done a thing like that to me. “Oh, I don’t believe you,” I said.
“What’s not to believe? How do you think I learned what I know? How do you think I make Madame so happy with me?”
“Well, then I’ll go, too. I’ll learn.”
“You can’t. They don’t just let you in. I knew a woman who worked at one of those places, so I got in. Besides, you’re not old enough, so just give up your dreaming.”
“I’m going to be eighteen soon.”
“And when might that be?” Naked now, Molly slipped under the bed covers; apparently she wasn’t going to wear a nightgown.
“Summer,” I said.
“Summer?” She laughed at me again. “That’s, like, years away.”
“Well, what of it? Regardless, I’m not a kid anymore.”
“You mean because you’ve done it with a man? That makes you grown?”
“Yes,” I said bravely, knowing we were inching onto a topic I didn’t want to discuss with her.
“Boy, have you got a lot to learn. Come on ‘old lady’; turn off the lamp, why don’t you, and come to bed.”
I was annoyed with her; she knew everything it seemed. Still, I was freezing and wanted the warmth of the bed. From somewhere downstairs, I could hear the Victrola playing. I slid under the heavy eiderdown next to Molly and said quietly, “Aren’t they ever going to go home?”
“Better get used to it, is what I’m thinking. Some nights, Madame and her friends don’t go to sleep at all. It’s mostly those actresses she knows; they never sleep.”
“They’re awfully loud. I can hear that music all the way up here.”
“That’s because they’re right underneath us — they’re in Madame’s bedroom now. And when the Victrola winds down, you can hear other things.”
“What other things?” I whispered, snuggling close to her mostly because I was still so cold.
“Guess,” she said slyly.
“Oh no,” I said. “We’re going to have to listen to that?”
“We could always drown them out, you know — go at it like a couple of alley cats ourselves.” She worked her hand up under my flannel nightgown. I was still annoyed with her, but for the time being, I let her do it. “How does that sound, Rosie; want to give it a go?”
I didn’t answer her. I was too entranced by her fingers…
Plus, the novel is 600 pages long — however, if you want something to just get lost in until the quarantine is lifted, then this book could help you do that. And even though it is many pages, most people say that the book is hard to put down. Especially once Rosemary — our heroine — gets to Hollywood in 1918 and eventually starts working for Mr. & Mrs. Rudolph Valentino. Then the book races almost unstoppably to its tragic (but sort of uplifting) end.
Most people who take the time to read this book, end up loving it. However, if you are one of those few people left in the world who honestly believed that Rudolph Valentino was heterosexual, then you will despise this book.
I researched all of it as best I could, hampered by it being nearly 100 years after the fact, and came to my own decision that when Valentino fell for a woman, he fell hard — and she was always a very worldly and beautiful woman, and usually very destructive to his reputation and his career. And when he wasn’t in love with a woman, he hung out exclusively with groups of men who were known in Hollywood to be homosexuals.
So, you know, you do the math. (Today, he would probably be called non-binary.)
A couple of reader reviews to gently bludgeon you over the head with how good this novel is:
“As soon as I read this quote attributed to Valentino: ‘Observe, Rosemary, how in Hollywood there is no difference between a knife and a smile,’ I knew for sure that I had found a gem! Twilight of the Immortal is both beautifully written and an engaging romp… Marilyn Jaye Lewis captures Valentino’s essence, the allure that endeared him to millions of fans. There is not one false step in this book. All the details are meticulously researched … I give it five stars!”
“Unlike her previous books, this is NOT erotica! This is a serious novel that should be enjoyed by the general public. The story is captivating. The characters are very strong and the book is hard to put down.”
Another thing that might of interest during your quarantine — Soulpepper Theater Co in Toronto is hosting a live webcast of playwrights reading their newest plays. The program is called Fresh Ink, and you can listen free, online, 4:30 PM today, Eastern (NY) time. Visit here and listen for free. (You will need to download Zoom at the link.)
All righty!!
I actually have to work with Peitor this morning on Abstract Absurdity Productions stuff, so I’m gonna scoot! I hope you’re able to make the best of your house arrest, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang! I might come back later and do a real — non-promotional sort of post. God knows, I’ll be here! Okay. I love you guys. See ya!
Valentino sees his wife, Natacha, off at the Los Angeles train station. However, they are merely posing for press photographers here. In truth, unknown to the world yet, they are divorcing and this will be the final time they lay eyes on each other. Valentino will die soon after the divorce, at the age of 31. In this photo, the incredibly famous husband & wife pair despise each other, but you’d never know it. Such is fame & Hollywood…
Also, they want you to be advised that during the coronavirus outbreak, it is best to register your copyrights online because they will be seriously under-staffed in the actual offices. You can find out all you need to know about that here.
As an aside…
My beloved Granville Inn texted me around noon and said they were shutting down their refrigerators/walk-ins and did I — basically one of two vegetarians in the entire county (it feels like) — want any veggies??
Yay!
So off I went! I actually got to drive really fast again on the highway. It felt so good after my quarantine!! I did see the Sheriff but he was occupied, so I slowed down while in his field of vision, then went super fast the moment I was off his radar…
Then I played my music really loud and smiled gleefully. And I actually got to see some human beings — from 6 feet away!!
And now I have more fruits & veggies & cheese & pretzels (I’m a well-known pretzel addict) than I can possibly eat! (Including asparagus which I don’t think I’ve had since last summer!!)
People are so nice.
Yes, I have pictures of Nick Cave on my kitchen table. I thought everyone did…
Well, Spring starts tomorrow! That’s really good news, right?
What I love about the seasons, gang, is how reliable they are. They always come back around. I love that the sun comes up each day, too, and that the moon goes through its phases each month “like clockwork,” and the ocean waves keep coming back to the shore.
These are all things to think about right now. And also that everything passes through, moves on, transforms.
As we’d feared, though, Nick Cave finally came to the decision to postpone the start of the European Ghosteen tour. He announced it today on the Nick Cave web site, and also in his Red Hand Files letter this morning. (I’m guessing his server crashed from all the responses he got to that announcement, though! I sent a response and his server told me “too many comments, slow down” or something like that.)
Also, things to keep in the mix as you hang out, like me, in your isolation and/or quarantine, the world over right now (meaning March 19, 2020), there are over 137,000 known cases of the virus but over 123, 000 of those are mild. Close to 86,000 people have now recovered. China now has more recoveries than people who are sick with the virus, and the professional show business news outlets, expect movie theaters in China to be open again by the end of March (about 2 weeks away).
So, like all other viruses and epidemics, it comes and passes through. And we adjust to all of it. The UK news outlets yesterday carried the story of Dr. Dongchen Wu of the Wuhan area of China who has cured 9 elderly patients now of Covid 19 by use of stem cell injections.
Assuming this is accurate news, it gives us reason to hope that by the next “flu season” there could be a cure or vaccine for this. There are good reasons to balance the stress and difficulties of “right now” with these other ideas.
As illustrated by China right now, the virus comes in, balloons, subsides. It doesn’t just come and stay eternally.
Also, at least here in America, people get really angry when you compare the Covid 19 virus with the regular “flu,” because we allegedly “know” what the flu is and what it’s doing, but it seems evident that just this season alone, between 22,000 – 55,000 Americans have died from the flu. And between 370,000 – 670,000 were actually hospitalized because of it. So we still don’t have a grip on the flu by any stretch, but we have managed to find a way to still live our lives in the wake of it, every single year. (The stats come from the Center of Disease Control.)
These are just things to think about in the midst of everything bombarding us on the national news. There is always the reality of
“right now” alongside the reality of change.
Meanwhile, here in Muskingum County, no outbreaks yet. We still have toilet paper, Kleenex, paper towels. We still have food. We still have gasoline at $1.83 per gallon.(Which could be an indication that I’m actually dead now and living in the afterlife, which, in that case, means you should disregard everything I’ve just written above!!)
If you follow me on Instagram (whether from the afterlife or from Earth), you saw that I actually ventured out and got a pizza last evening! I have never done that in the 2 years I’ve lived in Crazeysburg. I love pizza but I don’t eat it too often because in this part of the country, it simply doesn’t compare to the pizza you can get in NYC. Sorry to have to say that, but, alas, it is true.
But I was really hungry and I’d been stuck inside alone for about 96 hours straight already (not exaggerating on that, gang) and I thought, not only would pizza be great, but it would also support the one & only restaurant here in Crazeysburg. (You can only get take-out in Ohio now; there’s a Governor’s mandate right now that no one can congregate in bars or restaurants, so all those establishments are really hurting financially.)
So I went out and got a pizza!! Yay. (Cheese, onions and green olives. Is that weird? I really like green olives on my pizzas. I’m not sure why.) It was indeed weird, though, inside the place because of course the women who work at the pizzeria aren’t allowed to get anywhere near you. (Oh, we also have plenty of hand sanitizer here, too.) So, you know, you walk in the door of the pizzeria, which is entirely empty of other customers, and all the staff members immediately move very far away from you. You feel like Covid 19 walking.
But at least I got out of the house. For about 9 minutes. And I ate something besides organic oranges, tomatoes, baby spinach, arugula, Greek yogurt, berries, granola, non-organic dark chocolate, and Neapolitan ice cream… (If you study that list, you’ll see that it’s reasonably healthy but fucking boring for 96 hours straight!)
Okay, well. Today is Booty Core and hair-washing, and sitting at the desk and writing something!! (And eating the stuff on that list that I’ve just regaled you with, but now add cold, leftover pizza…) It could be so much worse. I count my many blessings every day, gang. I’m guessing that you do, too.
Thanks for visiting, gang. Have a good Thursday, wherever it finds you in this big, beautiful world! We’ll say goodbye to Nick Cave and his fellow Bad Seeds for now but not forever! I love you guys. See ya.
“We’ll Meet Again”
We’ll meet again,
Don’t know where,
Don’t know when
But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day
Keep smiling through,
Just like you always do
Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away
So will you please say “Hello”
To the folks that I know
Tell them I won’t be long
They’ll be happy to know
That as you saw me go
I was singing this song
We’ll meet again,
Don’t know where,
Don’t know when
But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day
We’ll meet again,
Don’t know where
Don’t know when.
But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.
Keep smiling through
Just like you always do,
‘Til the blue skies
Drive the dark clouds far away
So will you please say “Hello”
To the folks that I know.
Tell them I won’t be long.
They’ll be happy to know
That as you saw me go,
I was singin’ this song.
We’ll meet again,
Don’t know where,
Don’t know when
But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day
Just no way do you get to tell me what to fucking do! Yay!
That’s pretty much the attitude of most of the people who live in Ohio, which is of course why so many people (moi aussi) continued to congregate in groups way larger than 50 until the Governor had to step in and issue actual mandates that forced people (like me) to not only stay home but to not even be allowed to vote. Wow. Talk about getting your privileges suspended…
So when the number of confirmed cases of the virus basically doubled overnight in the State, it was not a surprise to me at all, not in any way whatsoever, so I have to wonder how come “officials” found this leap “startling”?
I love when the “people in charge” have no real clue what the “people they are in charge of” are doing.
(A good example of that, you know, was when Trump won the Presidency. A lot of people in Ohio voted for him. I know it won’t shake you to your very core to learn that I did not vote for Trump. But, still, he won. And in my opinion, he’s the President of the United States. Because people voted for him. I know for a fact that they did. And it’s why I’m so sick of the Democrats because they spent the past 4 years submerged in this infantile outcry, stamping their little feet, wasting everybody’s time & money, trying to remove him from his elected position, rather than spending all that time & money making America great again in ways that were more in keeping with their own beliefs about America.) (Which is why, in my opinion, America is a great country– you’re legally allowed to have whatever opinion you want and you’re allowed to publicly say whatever you want to about the President without fearing for your very life and liberty. And it’s odd how so many people who are not Democrats tend to see that fact really clearly and so they continue to vote in that direction.)
Anyway. No one has died from Covid 19 yet in the State of Ohio. But we are up to 67 confirmed cases. Way more than Kentucky and Indiana have, combined. So, on we go.
It will, alas, perhaps come as no surprise to you to learn that my table-read in NYC for Tell My Bones has ground to a thorough and complete halt. So much so, that the director of my play texted me last night to say he was flying back to Ohio first thing this morning to spend the Spring and Summer here in his mansion on the hill. He will be here until late August, just to get clear of NYC and the virus there. (Here in Muskingum County and also in the county where the director has his other home, there are so far no known cases of the virus.)
So the table-read in April is one less thing I have to do. And then that Literary Arts Fair in June that I backed out of because of planning to go to Zurich to make new friends and see Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, means two less things that I have to do.
And of course I scan the Nick Cave web site daily for any indication whatsoever that he might be postponing the European start of the Ghosteen Tour, and so far he his hanging tough — the only one in the world who is, actually. But that might be a third thing I won’t be doing this Spring/Summer if he does end up postponing the tour.
And of course the meeting with the TV streaming platform for Abstract Absurdity Productions in LA has been postponed until after the international quarantine is lifted. So that’s another thing that I won’t be doing this Spring. Although, for now, the film shoots will still be happening in Los Angeles this summer.
Sandra called last night and we chatted for quite awhile. Yesterday, the production of “Chicago” that she’s been rehearsing up in Stratford, Canada got closed down and so she will be back in Rhinebeck by Monday. (So, now that her schedule will be indescribably free for the table-read of Tell My Bones, there isn’t going to be one until the Fall.)
The only thing that remains in place for me, career-wise, is that our other play is still slated for production in Canada at the end of this year. And this sudden freed-up schedule for both Sandra and me, means that we can tackle some of those massive re-writes for that other play. And we’re both feeling really excited about that. We’ll probably just do it on Skype; I’m not planning to go back to NYC now before the Fall. But I’m still feeling really excited about getting back to work with her on that play.
So, all those things that I was worrying about having to do all at once, have now basically entirely disappeared.
And now all I have in front of me yet again is time to sit at my desk and write.
I made some progress with my broken heart during the night. Turned a little corner. Release people to what they need in their own lives and just open up my strange little path and embrace whatever comes along on it.
I’m not able to stop loving someone once I love them, but I am able to find a different place for it inside and then keep going.
Listening to the Bee Gees of course while you have a broken heart is never a good idea. We all know this. It is a documented fact that it only makes your heart break more. And yet, I guess I’m an Ohio girl after all, because I’ve been listening to the Bee Gees “How Can You Mend A Broken Heart” pretty much non-stop for a few days. (That’s correct: No one in the universe is the boss of me. I will listen to the Bee Gees if I so choose!!!)
You know, I don’t ever want to be Albatross-y to anyone, least of all, to someone I love. So I have been trying really hard to keep myself contained (in a non-Covid 19 type of way, of course, because when it comes to the virus, I want to be sure to interact closely with everyone imaginable, until the Governor himself steps in and says, “No, no, no! Bad dog!! Bad, bad dog!! Now you have to stay in your little pen and you don’t get to vote!!”).
Anyway. I’m trying to sublimate whatever I’m feeling and turn it into something that can have it’s own beauty and go out into the world in other, more acceptable ways. It’s why I’m a writer, I guess.
And last night, lights out. Dark bedroom. Shattered little heart that I was trying once more to get a grip on. Suddenly, loud and plain as day, I hear singing — music. It was so familiar to me. But it was coming from somewhere inside me.
And I thought: What is that? I know that song.
And I suddenly realized it was the chorus from Tom Petty’s song, “You & Me.” Which happens to be the last song that Tom Petty actually listened to before he died. (According to his wife, Dana, who was there with him on the bed, watching the video on YouTube, and then later he had the heart attack and did not recover.)
But it’s also a song that I really love and that man who died a couple of summers ago used to indulge me and even while he also liked Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers a lot (he was older than me, but we were in the same generation, music-wise). Anyway, we played Tom Petty songs almost exclusively while he was here in this very room with me, making a whole lot of love (before he, too, died).
So “You & Me” is a powerhouse of potential heartbreak for me, but when I suddenly realized that it was the song coming through the ether to me last night, I grabbed my phone from the night table and streamed “You & Me” on repeat. And almost instantaneously, the energy, spirit, whatever you call it, of the now-dead guy that I loved was all over me. There was so much joy. It was like a tidal wave of it, all over me in that bed.
I knew he was with me. I could almost see him, you know? Almost. And he was just filled with joy and I couldn’t help but be swept up into it, too. And even though I don’t actually “hear” voices, I feel his voice pretty loudly inside me. I can hear/feel the words. They were undeniably him and he told me stuff that was just filled with love. So much love. And he also said, “You gotta leave that guy alone now, Marilyn. Remember the boundaries.”
He actually said that. And then I fell dead asleep — if you’ll excuse the weird pun. At one point, I remember that I turned off the music on my phone. But I slept 8 whole hours. I haven’t done that in a couple of weeks, really.
So I’m feeling better, you know? Love in the Time of Cholera and all that aside — I am feeling better. And so on we go, right, gang?
You know of course what I am leaving you with today! Enjoy it. Celebrate it. Rejoice, even. Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya!
“You And Me”
Take a look
At what I got
I can’t promise
You a lot
But you and me
And the road ahead
I can’t save
You from yourself
You gotta want it
All that’s left
Is you and me
And the road ahead
Wherever that wind might blow
Wherever that river rolls
You know I will go with you
Lookin’ over
The mountain’s crown
The water roars
And tumbles down
Like you and me
And the road ahead
Wherever that wind might blow
Wherever that river rolls
You know I will go with you
Happy 7th & 8th birthdays to my many beloved cats!
They’re happy here and festive today, even while they have nowhere to go and pandemic viruses to keep well clear of.
Still, they are partying hard, as usual!!
A reasonable facsimile. It is not actually sunny here today! And we don’t even live in that house anymore! Plus, I have 5 other cats who aren’t pictured here!!
Well, yesterday, I suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to focus on In the Shadow of Narcissa and maybe even finish writing it during this period of global house arrest caused by a virus.
And then suddenly, early this morning, I got word that the web site for AbstractAbsurdityProductions is finally ready for me to begin working on. Wouldn’t you know it?
I’m going to try to split my time between the two projects, though. We’ll see. I will meet with Peitor over the phone for several hours this afternoon. We are hoping to finish the “Lita” script, or get close to finishing it. We are on the final scene. (I know, even under house arrest, when I should be taking a sort of “enforced vacation,” I still have too much to do.)
I went to vote this morning, only to discover my polling place was closed. So there we have it. A true pandemic. I can’t even exercise my right to vote.
And today will likely go down as the quietest St. Paddy’s Day in the known history of the Christian world.
Sorry. This is sort of a weird, convoluted, short post. I keep getting interrupted here. And I’ve got way too much on my mind right now. Perhaps I will post an update later!
Meanwhile, thanks for stopping by for cake & ice cream!! I love you guys. See ya.
Well, the Governor of this lofty State, as of last evening, mandated that all gathering places such as bars and restaurants all over Ohio are to be closed down, as he attempts to force stubborn people to stay home.
This means that me and my beloved Granville Inn — my home away from home, 25 miles from here — must part company for a while.
(Yes, I confess — I was there Saturday night with tons of other people and no less than 6 flat screen TVs, with the sound off, giving moment-by-moment updates of the National Emergency and the world-wide pandemic.)(To be fair, though, I was super paranoid about not touching my face and I washed my hands a lot…)
So, anyway, now I’m home for the duration. And instead of sitting at my desk and working almost all of the time, I am now going to sit at my desk and work all the time.
After I got word of the Governor’s mandate last evening, I figured I’d better force myself to drive into the other town (19 miles away) to get the upcoming week’s groceries. Just get it over with and then force myself to stay at home. (Although tomorrow is voting day and I can’t imagine not voting…)
I was bracing myself for a catastrophe inside the market — I had heard already that all the big super market chains had empty shelves and were out of food. However, the little market I shop at — that has tons of organic produce, etc. — still had plenty of food. And none of the shoppers there appeared to be in the throes of hoarding stuff.
The store was only out of 2 things that I normally buy (and I thought it was interesting that they were out of these specific items in this pandemic of shopping mania): the specific dark chocolate I like — and so I was forced to buy a type of dark chocolate that comes from Austria, instead, and that actually tastes better than what I usually buy and is indescribably delicious (meaning, it contains more sugar and less cocoa), so I’m going to be forced to eat delicious chocolate this week. And they were out of the organic pomegranate juice that I buy. Instead, I had to buy organic pomegranate juice that is blended with organic tart cherry and red grape juices (which, of course, tastes better than the pure stuff — but I drink the pure stuff for post-menopausal hormonal reasons, not because I like it). But, clearly, a lot of suffering is underway here…
And then, on the way back into Crazeysburg, I stopped at the dollar store to buy more tea tree essential oil and 25 pounds of cat litter, both of which they had plenty of (I have tried to warn you that my life is just super glamorous, gang), and then I thought — in a sort of somewhat hoarding sort of vein — that maybe I should just buy another carton of Breyer’s all natural vanilla bean ice cream — you know, in case I need to ponder excessively during the crack down and run out of the 1 and a 1/2 cartons I already have in my freezer. And to my dismay, I discovered that apparently everyone in Crazeysburg shares my taste in ice cream because they were all out of only that flavor. (I bought Breyer’s Neapolitan as my back-up instead.)
But I found that just so funny, you know? In the midst of all this utterly insane stupefyingly crazy shopping stuff that’s going on all over America now, the only things I couldn’t obtain were organic Pomegranate juice, high-cocoa-content dark chocolate, and boring Breyer’s all natural vanilla bean ice cream.
This means that there are people out here in the Hinterlands who are exactly like me and yet I don’t know a single one of them!
Well, the update on the web work for Abstract Absurdity Productions got even more bizarre. I did hear back from one of the “Happiness Engineers” yesterday (far short of the 24-48 hour estimated time frame) and she took care of the problem that I was having at WordPress, and then I was able to go back over to GoDaddy and discover that the problem they had allegedly fixed for me there on Saturday was now even worse. So, an hour and a half on the phone with tech support took care of that problem (for real, this time). And I was able to go back to my “Happiness Engineer” at WordPress and finish up everything there.
And then she happily informed me that we were all good to go and that within 5 to 7 days, I could complete the site set up.
Oh my god. You know? In case you can’t do the math on that, that’s, like, an entire week. I mean, the whole world has shut down, so it’s not like there’s any rush or anything, but it just boggles my mind.
Plus, it’s embarrassing to have to keep giving Peitor these ridiculous updates every day because I know that he must be privately thinking that I don’t really know how to set up a web site and that it’s just my foolish pride that’s preventing me from admitting it.
Well, anyway. I have a full tank of gas in my car that only cost me $1.83 per gallon. And I have all my groceries, and all the cat food and cat litter we need around here, and plenty of ice cream to try to mend my broken heart with — and I have absolutely no place to go and no web work that I can do. So I’m guessing I’ll get a lot of my own writing done this week.
We can only hope. Although my phone informed me yesterday that I’m spending way too much time on Instagram now. I usually have about 3 hours of screen time on my phone each week, but yesterday, my phone informed me that last week, I had 19 hours of screen time!! Jesus Christ. That is just stupid. I gotta stop. It only leads to heartache anyway. (For instance, I used to love that song “Love Letter” by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds and now I never want to hear it again, ever, as long as I live, ever, and even beyond forever, because of something I scrolled my way on to on Instagram a few dawns ago. Stupid stuff like that.)
Okay. I guess I’ll get started here. Have a good Monday, wherever you are in this pandemic-filled world. Find something peaceful to contemplate. Find something to follow that leads you in the direction of joy. Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with my little soundtrack to have your heart broken by, as we barrel ever-onward towards Spring. I love you guys. See ya!
“Swinging Doors”
This old smoke-filled bar is something I’m not used to
But I gave up my home to see you satisfied
And I just called to let you know where I’ll be living
It’s not much but I feel welcome here inside
And I’ve got swinging doors a jukebox and a bar stool
And my new home has a flashing neon sign
Stop by and see me anytime you want to
Cause I’m always here at home till closing time
I’ve got everything I need to drive me crazy
I’ve got everything it takes to lose my mind
And in here the atmosphere’s just right for heartaches
And thanks to you I’m always here till closing time
And I’ve got swinging doors a jukebox and a bar stool
And my new home has a flashing neon sign
Stop by and see me anytime you want to
Cause I’m always here at home till closing time
You’re going to think I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about when I say I’ve been building web sites for myself since 1997.
However, I have managed to come upon yet another annoying glitch with the set-up of the Abstract Absurdity Productions website (I guess I’m just hellbent on embodying the “Absurdity” aspect of this project), that the WordPress “Happiness Engineers” assure me they can address within the next 24-48 hours.
Honestly. I am so fucking serious.
I’m, like: you’re kidding me, right??!!
Jesus.
So here I sit, on a rather chilly but very sunny Sunday, with all this web work to do and I yet again cannot do any of it.
So, what I did instead was sat at my kitchen table and tried to come up with some enormous reserves of will power to not write to this person that I said I wouldn’t write to anymore.
And when I opened to the Table of Contents, I discovered many little asterisks next to many of the poems, and I suddenly recalled that when I was 17, I was writing a one-person play and that the dialogue consisted of nothing but poems by Langston Hughes.
Don’t you find that really interesting? I kind of do. I remember that I worked really hard on it but that, eventually, I felt like I was in over my head and I gave up.
And as I opened the book to each poem that had an asterisk — lo! these 43 years later — it was so interesting to see that all the words came back to me, like they were etched in my brain.
And it was also really interesting to see the poems I had selected for the play. Because even though, when I’d re-read them today on the page and felt I had them memorized somewhere deep inside me, at first, I hadn’t recalled any of these poems. For instance, this extremely interesting one for my 17-year-old white self:
Ruby Brown
She was young and beautiful
And golden like the sunshine
That warmed her body.
And because she was colored
Mayville had no place to offer her,
Nor fuel for the clean flame of joy
That tried to burn within her soul.
One day,
Sitting on old Mrs. Latham’s back porch
Polishing the silver,
She asked herself two questions
And they ran something like this:
What can a colored girl do
On the money from a white woman’s kitchen?
And ain’t there any joy in this town?
Now the streets down by the river
Know more about this pretty Ruby Brown,
And the sinister shuttered houses of the bottoms
Hold a yellow girl
Seeking an answer to her questions.
The good church folk do not mention
Her name any more.
But the white men,
Habitués of the high shuttered houses,
Pay more money to her now
Than they ever did before,
When she worked in their kitchens. (Langston Hughes)
Or how about this one:
To Artina
I will take your heart.
I will take your soul out of your body
As though I were God.
I will not be satisfied
With the touch of your hand
Nor the sweet of your lips alone.
I will take your heart for mine.
I will take your soul.
I will be God when it comes to you. (Langston Hughes)
I don’t know, I found that just really interesting. Apparently, when I was 17 I was already exactly how I am now — the things that matter to me, I mean. They still move me, they still matter.
And then I even recalled vividly that the opening to my play was this poem (and I still think it makes a great opening for a one-person play):
Harlem Night Song
Come,
Let us roam the night together
Singing.
I love you.
Across
The Harlem roof-tops
Moon is shining.
Night sky is blue.
Stars are great drops
Of golden dew.
Down the street
A band is playing.
I love you.
Come,
Let us roam the night together
Singing. (Langston Hughes)
Well, perhaps I’ll work on that play again sometime. I probably won’t be in over my head anymore. And I did indeed find the poem I was actually looking for — hard to believe it’s a poem retrieved from my wee bonny 17-year-old girlhood. I leave you with it, gang!
Beale Street
The dream is vague
And all confused
With dice and women
And jazz and booze.
The dream is vague
Without a name,
Yet warm and wavering
And sharp as flame.
The loss
Of the dream
Leaves nothing
The same. (Langston Hughes)
Okay, you know, I usually don’t like this blog to be about current events because you can get enough of that stuff all over the place. But I do have to say that, yesterday afternoon, I went to go drop off my water bill at what we lovingly call here “City Hall” (a tiny store front), and I headed past our local gas station and my mouth fell open. Literally.
And it was snowing like crazy, too, with very high blizzard-like winds but the snow wasn’t sticking, or anything — it was just so weird outside. (This was shortly after the strangely unanticipated funeral procession drove past my kitchen window — see yesterday’s quick post). Anyway, everything just felt so weird. And then I saw that the price of gas had plummeted!! It is currently $1.83 a gallon. It is so cheap that it’s bizarre.
What’s even weirder, is that I usually go further out of town, into the middle of nowhere, to buy my gas because it’s almost always cheapest there. But, suddenly, right smack in the middle of Crazeysburg was the cheapest gas I’ve seen in 30 years. For no discernible reason whatsoever.
And we have our one little dollar store here, and it has plenty of toilet paper, and also food. All kinds of processed, packaged, and frozen food. Not the kind of food I buy, though (except for ice cream, in the event I need to ponder something). Still, we have food. I mean, don’t come visit or anything, because we don’t want you to clean us out. My point is only that we have all this stuff that the big cities and the nearest towns are all out of, and now we also have the cheapest gas I’ve ever seen — I really do think I’m living in the Land that Time Forgot.
Well, onward.
Yesterday, in the mail, I received a poetry book that I had ordered recently and it arrived signed by the poet. It was the best inscription I’d ever read. For some reason, she knows I’m a writer, which took me aback a little, but her inscription was mostly about best wishes for “seeing beauty amidst disaster.”
That, to me, could not have summed up all of life, and specifically my own life, more perfectly.
I’m looking forward to reading the book — it’s an award-winning chapbook. I will write more about it after I read it. I get the feeling that the poems are extremely intense (they’re about disaster, actually). I’m gonna find out.
I am also going to get that darn web site working today if it kills me. It is just insane, how much trouble I’m having. And it’s just tiny bits of trouble here & there, which accumulate into just a really frustrating headache. So we shall see. But I guarantee you that I have been building websites since 1997 — and those include many award-winning websites!! — and yet nowadays, these “user-friendly” and “easy-to-use” website templates are counter-intuitive, rarely do what I need them to do and they make me lose my mind.
New topic.
I had a brief text exchange yesterday with my sister, just to start the process of dipping my toe in that water of needing my birth mom to be here for extended periods when I have to be in LA. (My mom lives with my sister.) And my sister assured me she would make it happen.
So, between the two of us…
My poor mother — her fate is now sealed and she doesn’t even know. But to be fair, she really does like staying here. She gets all that privacy and gets to do stuff out in the garden, with my many flowers (mostly meaning: pulling the weeds that I tend to ignore now because pulling weeds would require that I leave my desk).
Which reminds me. I went into the guest room to water the plants this morning, and just look at this poinsettia!
This poinsettia is almost 5 years old.
Beautiful, right? Plus, there was a ladybug on the window, too! (Although I’m kind of starting to believe that these are just ladybugs, you know? Maybe not signs of anything more than unexpected life. Which of course, is a good sign.)
However, I digress.
But my point was that it takes so much off my mind, knowing that even if I have to be away for extended periods, my mom will be here, taking care of my house and my many cats.
Well, I’m gonna scoot. I want to get back in bed and read poems for awhile. Then gear up to face that web site again. I hope you have a really nice Sunday, wherever you are in this pandemic-driven world. Just do what you think is best, okay? And keep in mind that we’re never really gonna get it (life) right, you know? So just let it evolve into whatever it needs to be — life, love, best-laid-plans, etc. One thing I know for sure about all this stuff is that everything we think we understand is probably way off course and that everything always comes back around for another shot or a closing statement. And then we personally define whether that’s good or not so good. And then on we go. Right? All righty. I love you guys. See ya. And remember… (really nice version of this song if you’re willing to still listen to Michael Jackson.)
I was sitting at my kitchen table, reading a very short story by Ben Nickol, titled “Opening Night”.
It was very good but very sad. About a little girl who”s in a school play and then gets killed on the way home and then how the family dynamic changes immediately and forever.
Really well written but just so sad.
I tossed the book onto the table, got up and went over and leaned on the kitchen counter, looked out the kitchen window in order to think, to process, and a funeral procession was driving by.
Sort of unnerving, really. Talk about the immediacy of life. Or death. God, life is so strange.
Okay, well, the web work today made me crazy yet again because I could not unlock the domain from GoDaddy as hard as I tried. Finally called support and got someone who appeared to be trying to help about 5 customers at once — I’m not kidding. And it turned out that the problem was they had somehow connected an email to that domain that I have not had in over 10 years…..
Fuck. It only took half an hour to figure that problem out. So then they finally fixed everything and assured me it would be good to go in a few more hours!!!!!!!
So. I gave up. For now. Hope you’re having a more productive day wherever you are in the world! See ya, gang.
Marilyn's Room 