The meeting with the director was AMAZING! I am so blessed, gang. This show is gonna happen. I will keep you posted.
We are aiming to do the first staged reading in April. So there is so much breathing room here and it also gives Sandra the time to do an important role up in Canada. So everything is awesome.
I am at Lincoln Center — quite early, for some reason. I walked and it was a lot closer than I thought it was. Anyway my seat is in the 4th row of the Orchestra but there are 3 rows in front of the 4 so what is that??? I’m actually in the 7th row but for some reason, they don’t want to call it that.
Okay, well anyway. Gonna turn off my phone now. Yes, the one I said I wasn’t gonna bring…. Have a super Saturday night, wherever you are in the world, gang! I love you guys!! See ya! ❤️
Yes, Sandra and I have done nothing but discuss this theater stuff. To say that it’s weighing on me now is a slight understatement.
We’re taking the train into the city later this morning. Then I’m gonna check into my Airbnb. She’s going to drop her stuff off at her pied a terre. Then we go across town to meet with the director.
The front porch here is so inviting. It has wicker rocking chairs. I actually fell asleep for a few minutes while rocking yesterday in the sun, listening to the peace & quiet.
But then Sandra came out to the porch and we began discussing the play again, and my peace sort of fled me. She says, “ I want to hear what the director thinks, but I’m thinking we’re looking at a 2 million dollar budget for this play now.”
I just sort of looked at her.
I can’t really get my mind around that kind of a budget, but I’m inclined to believe her. The rewrites have been that drastic.
I can’t process it anymore. Of course, we’ll hear what the director is thinking about it, as well. But all I can do, really, is just focus on writing the best play I can and then not think one step beyond that. Just let life happen. Allow the Universe to work those miracles it is so famous for.
Several photos on Instagram this morning from Nick Cave’s Conversation in DC last night. Looks like it went splendidly!! I of course will not even be bringing my phone to Lincoln Center tonight. I never take photos of events even when I’m allowed to. I just sort of like to be present and not even think about my phone. Tonight’s show is where I have the really good seat — 4th row of the Orchestra, over to the left.
Even while I have collected photos and micro clips on Instagram of every single one of these Conversations since the tour started in Australia in January, I’m oddly feeling like I have no idea what to expect. The only thing I feel certain of is that the time will fly and I will wish that, instead, time would stop and it would go on forever.
However…
Okay, so I wrote a new segment for In the Shadow of Narcissa yesterday. I think I still might tweak it a tiny bit. But you can find the segment at the link to the site that’s somewhere here in the blog. I’m on my phone now so I can’t really see the navigation. But the link is here somewhere.
Tomorrow, Sunday, I will likely spend the day in my room at the Airbnb working on rewrites of the play. Sandra and I might meet up with Wayne somewhere (my ex who is also a long time friend of Sandra’s). I’m not positive about that. I’m kind of keeping tomorrow open because Monday I’m sort of booked solid before the Conversation at Town Hall at 8pm, and I want to relax a little. I think. I guess we’ll see how it all pans out.
Okay. Yes, I’m in a bit of a weird mood, stemming from this colossal budget thing that I managed to create. No one but me seems at all disturbed by this so I’m trying to just let it go and chill, you know? I guess, like everything, we’ll just see.
I leave you with a shot of the quiet empty kitchen from just before I began to blog— when I grabbed another cup of coffee. I get up so early, as you know. Not a soul around here is awake until hours after I get up.
Well, okay.
Thanks for visiting, gang!! Have a super Saturday, wherever you are in the world! I love you guys! See ya!
[UPDATE: In the Shadow of Narcissa has updated. You can read it here! Thanks!]
(Now, back to the blog!)
Three nights in a row now, I have slept really great. No anxiety at all, even though all my challenges remain the same and, now that I’m here in Rhinebeck, focusing on both plays with Sandra, new challenges are arising. But that sense that everything will unfold however it needs to unfold is really pronounced.
So I’m good.
I can’t believe that the Conversations with Nick Cave resume tonight in DC. It seems like it came so fucking fast. Then tomorrow night, I see him in the city— and then again on Monday.
I’m doing that thing again — dragging my feet, trying to slow it all down, because it will be over in a heartbeat and life will just go on!
No!! How can that be??
When Sandra asked me who I was seeing in the city, and I said “Nick Cave,” she said, “but who are you seeing on Monday then?”
”Nick Cave.”
”Oh, then who are you seeing at Lincoln Center?”
”Nick Cave.”
”Wait— you’re seeing that dude twice?”
”Yeah.”
“You must like him a lot.”
”I do.”
”Who is he?”
Aaaarrrggggh!!!! Oh well. Clearly not every American is oblivious to Nick Cave because all the Conversations are sold out…
Sandra and I had a long discussion last evening re: Tell My Bones and I went over the director’s notes with her, even though I haven’t done the rewrites yet. She was very insightful and enthusiastic. Today, we’re going to go over the whole play, scene by scene, which will likely help me facilitate the rewrites.
I’m feeling extremely good about everything because Sandra’s response to this new version is very, very encouraging.
I have a feeling I’ll be spending most of my time at the Airbnb writing. Both on Tell My Bones and on a new segment for In the Shadow of Narcissa. I’m planning to spend Monday with Valerie. But other than that, I think I’ll just be hanging out by myself, writing.
Yesterday, Sandra and I went and had lunch at this place I really like because it has great vegetarian options. And in there, I swear to you — I’m not lying about this — one of the guys who works there, who looked to be in his late teens, early 20s tops, came on to me!! I was completely taken aback by this because I was in one of those intense moods where I wasn’t even smiling. At first I thought maybe he was attracted to my Tom Petty tee shirt. But, no, it seemed that he was actually attracted to ME! And I was, like, WOW. Now that is interesting, right? It’s like they get younger and younger.
Is it because I’m getting more and more immature?!!
When I woke up this morning, at 5:45 am, my brain was reciting various odd stanzas from Whitman’s “I Sing the Body Electric.” I hadn’t thought of that poem in years. This is that area of the country, where he lived, roamed, thrived, wrote. Really, when you get to the East Coast you can feel the ghosts of all those sensibilities— writers and thinkers who settled here, drew in the Nature that was all around here back then, and then created from that intake. Rhinebeck is just one of those places that retains its history. It’s part of daily life. It’s the reason why I love it so much — but it does come with a huge price tag. It’s really expensive to live out here.
New Yorkers do that to a place: they buy a summer home somewhere up the Hudson, then decide it’s so nice, let’s make it year round. Then everyone catches on and does the same thing, and in a heartbeat, the price of everything goes through the roof and city people are all over the place.
Okay! Well, I hope things are good in your part of the world, gang. I’m gonna grab some more coffee and hang out and think about life until Sandra emerges from the boudoir. I leave you with a shot looking down in the neighbors yard at 6:30 am this morning.
Thanks for visiting! I love you guys. See ya.
Looking down at the neighbor’s yard in Rhinebeck 6:30 am
You know, I’ve heard from houseguests that my guest room was really comfortable and last night I experienced it for myself!
I got into the bed and it was, like, man — this bed is more comfortable than mine is! And then I had the best night’s sleep I had in ages. It’s a really nice room. It just has great vibes.
Yes, I got lost going to pick up my mom yesterday. A 2-hour trip going there turned into 3 1/2 hours, and included a visit from the Sheriff as I waited there alone at the side of the road in the middle of all those cornfields. Had to get out of the car, show my ID and everything.
My mom spent nearly an hour trying to find me. Eventually we did manage to meet up in a gas station in a little town called Clarksburg…🥺
What should have been a 4-hour trip total, wound up being an 8 hour trip. Plus I got to see my younger brother for the first time in a few years. No one made fun of me for getting so fucking lost, though…
Yeah, so that was fun. Now I have to turn around and drive 10 hours today. But the weather is really just gorgeous so it should be a really nice drive.
My Nick Cave tickets are actually now in my handbag. So there is a really excellent chance the tickets will make it to NYC with me!
All righty, gang! I’m outta here. Gonna meditate. Have a little coffee. Load up the car and then scoot. Thanks for visiting!! I love you guys. See ya!
(oh, and I’m posting from my phone now so the photos are probably enormous…)
I have to leave here in a couple hours to go get my mom. She lives on my sister’s farm a couple of hours from here. Both of my sisters actually live on the farm, in different houses, and now my mom is retired and lives there, too. (She was a waitress and a cook.)
I haven’t been out to the farm in probably 25 years. My one sister actually grew up on that farm, then inherited it, then invited my other sister to come live out there with her.
That one sister who now owns the farm is not the sister that I get along with, hence, I never go out to that farm. That sister is 2 years younger than me, but she acts like she’s about 20 years older than I am. Not that she’s bossy or anything, but apparently she also thinks that I am still 12 years old and it frustrates the heck out of her and so she has little patience with me whenever I’m in the same room with her.
My other sister and I are extremely close. She’s 8 years younger than me and also treats me like I’m 12 years old, but in a really, really nice way. For instance, she just this second texted me, saying, I left you gas money on the kitchen table. Drive safe. I just love that!! Because, honestly, I am only just barely able to take care of myself. It’s a wonder that anyone allowed me to have such a grown up thing as a house… let alone this intensely grown-up car.
I was talking on the phone with Valerie out in Brooklyn yesterday, because I had gotten extremely depressed. And I was lamenting having to do all this driving by myself, and even though I’ve made this drive to NY from here I don’t know how many times, I am now suddenly feeling overwhelmed by all the driving ahead of me. Especially the 2 hour drive from here up to northern Ohio, where I then cross over into Pennsylvania — those 2 hours have a lot of confusing highway changes, and now that I have no CD player in my car, I have to listen to all my music on my phone.
She reminded me that I have a grown-up car now and that it has a really good navigation system. I totally forgot!! (This is one of the many reasons why I need a keeper, 24/7.) So now, I have the navigation system; that cruise control thing that slows down & speeds up depending on the car in front of me; it brakes by itself; it stays in the lane; and it drives by itself for 10 seconds — so, basically, I can just hang out in the backseat, chew gum and play records! Yay!
I wish.
Yesterday evening, I ran into this elderly man (I’ve posted about him on the blog before – his wife recently died from Alzheimer’s and I had told him he could move in with me if he wanted to, and even though I could tell by his expression that he really, really wanted to, he refused to reply. ) Anyway. I saw him yesterday. He said, “You always look so happy!” (Which is just bizarre, since I’m always in the throes of some sort of suicidal swoon, but that’s not the point…) For some reason, I told him I was going to NYC and I told him about the progress with the 2 plays with Sandra.
I usually do not talk about my private life — ever. I just don’t talk about it or myself. I smile. I’m friendly, but I am usually an absolute closed steel door. Thanks to google, as soon as neighbors find out I’m a writer, they google me, and it is usually not too long before people start asking me to come over and have sex with them, their girlfriends, with everybody. (I’m not kidding. I’m actually serious.) Flattering as it may well be, I always politely decline. And then move farther away…
Anyway, for some reason, I told this man about the plays, and of course he didn’t know I was a writer. And it turns out he’s from NYC, too, and moved away shortly after 9/11. Too weird, right? Another New Yorker. (My friend Kara, whom I’ve gotten so close with over the last several months, was also born and raised in NY and I didn’t know this until well after we initially met.)
I guess we have these inner homing devices, or something. Psychically picking up on this signal from “home.”
I am really digressing here, sorry. My point is that this man wants to introduce me to a female friend of his who also writes. And then he said that she now writes full time and added, “well, of course, she has a husband who takes care of her.” And then he back-pedaled and added, “not that that’s a bad thing.”
Just a really interesting piece of dialogue there, you know? Mostly, he was flattering me, implying that I do what I want and take care of myself, without relying on a man. I think I said something like, “oh, I see.”
But I was thinking how this idea that I “take care of myself” is just so loosely defined. It’s just funny, people thinking that I do what I want and I take care of myself, as if I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world, assuming I could actually get along indefinitely with some guy I was in love with??? And then I immediately thought about the endless drive ahead of me, and then the drive back. And always traveling everywhere alone. Always working, always writing. Always, always. Alone. It just got a little depressing.
And I got nothing done on In the Shadow of Narcissa because nothing productive would come to me yesterday. But I might actually write while I’m away. Like, on paper — the old-fashioned way. I will be posting to the blog, though, but from my phone, so it won’t be my usual stuff, but I’m still gonna post!
Okay. I gotta scoot. Gotta leave here in a bit and go make the trek out to the farm to get my mom… Have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world and whatever you’re doing!! Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys! See ya!
(A great favorite from my wee bonny girlhood!! Who knew that the only man I would wind up getting along with indefinitely would be Jesus??!!) (See ya!!!) 🙂
That’s good news, right? I woke up this morning and had a functioning human brain again!
Of course, the slightly bad news is that I still can’t wrap my mind around those extensive notes for the ending segment of Tell My Bones, and my mind seems to be leaning toward writing the next installment of In the Shadow of Narcissa this morning anyway. So I’m getting the feeling that I’m gonna do that.
And then maybe vacuum the house…
And then maybe sit and think about the play…
Sandra finally texted yesterday that she liked the new version but wasn’t understanding how we were going to do a staged reading of it because it now feels so cinematic.
AAAAACCHHH!!
I totally forgot that I have to completely rewrite the staged reading version of the play now, too. (And if you’re deranged enough to be following the progress of all of my far-flung projects, you might recall that I have yet to revise the show bible for Cleveland’s Burning since I did the 4th draft of it back in October…) (And the veteran African-American television actor who was negotiating with me to attach himself to the TV pilot to play the grandfather role, decided to die the other day. Literally. Peitor texted me from Italy on Friday saying only: “John died.” Oh fuck, now that’s good news…) (And all of my own selfish needs aside; that guy was a really, really nice man.)
Anyway.
I cannot even begin to comprehend how to write the staged reading version of Tell My Bones at this point, without the director basically drawing me a detailed blue print & map. Either that, or I’ll just shoot myself and hope for a better, non-writing, life next time around.
Honestly. I cannot even begin to imagine what the staged reading of this version of the play is gonna look like. I simply cannot.
However, what I told Sandra is: no worries, we all just need to have a chat about it in person once I get there, figure it all out! She texted back a cheery “thumb’s up.”
So we’ll just see what the heck the future brings re: this amazing play because I sure as hell cannot figure it out.
I actually can’t figure anything out. To be honest, way down deep at the core of everything, I don’t even know what Life is or why I exist. I’m just wingin’ it on every level, pretty much every day.
Before I forget — please be on the lookout for the upcoming Fall Issue of the Exterminating Angel Press Magazine (online) because they have an excerpt of my new novel, Blessed By Light, in there!! They’re printing Chapter 18, which is titled, “The Guitar Hero Goes Home.” I will, of course, keep you posted.
All righty. That said, while I still have a functioning brain around here today, I’m gonna scoot and take a look at how I feel about writing a new segment for In the Shadow of Narcissa. And then, depending on how I end up feeling about that, I’ll either write or vacuum. And try not to think about this indescribably stressful trip that is now looming — 3 days away. (And why I decided not to fly… I just don’t understand me sometimes.) (And my TSA Precheck number arrived yesterday — in plenty of time for that flight I’m now not taking.)
Okay. Have a beautiful Sunday, wherever you are in the world. And if you’d like to apply for the job of being my BRAIN, do get in touch. God knows there is often a vacancy there. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys! See ya!
Oh, and the Stateside leg of the Conversations with Nick Cave (aka In Conversation, and Words + Music) begins in, like 5 days….. Can you believe that? Where is the time fucking going??!!.
Okay. I leave you with this! (Yes, more soul-wreching Dalida! Always a good indication that my sanity is sort of sliding away… Enjoy, gang!)
“La petite maison bleue”
La petite maison bleue
Est envahie de silence
La maison de mon enfance
Me fait mal quand je la voisC’est pourtant plus fort que moi
J’y retournerai sans doute
Je reprendrai cette route
Qui mène à mes souvenirs
C’est ici que j’ai grandi
Que j’ai découvert la vie
Ces beaux jours s’enfuient déjà
Revibrant toujours en moi
La petite maison bleue
A mes yeux reste la même
C’est ici que ceux que j’aime
Ont connu des jours heureux
Ma jeunesse est restée là
Au détour de ce chemin
Ma jeunesse est restée là
Quelquepart dans ce jardin
La petite maison bleue
Est envahie de tristesse
Mais elle est pour moi quand même
La maison des jours heureux
I didn’t make much headway in “Baltimore” yesterday (Letter #3 in Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse) because, frankly, I was absolutely exhausted.
I had the file open on the laptop all day, while my actual body was mostly collapsed on the bed all day! And I did do a little bit of laundry, but not much.
Today, I feel totally revived, though, and will work on “Baltimore”.
And yesterday afternoon, the first responses to the newly revised script for Tell My Bones came in and I could not have been happier with the comments. In all honesty, it made my day. I feel like I achieved on paper what I was trying to accomplish, and I couldn’t have done it without the director’s complete emotional involvement and his really targeted notes. I know that whoever goes to see this play will not forget Helen LaFrance, her art or her life, ever.
So I’m taking some time here to just be really happy — before all the actual business part of it begins.
I’m hoping to finish “Baltimore” before I go get my mom, early next week. And I’m also hoping to get one more segment of In the Shadow of Narcissa written before that, too. Of course, I will have some free time in that Airbnb to write, if I want to. I’m not sure what I’m going to really be doing all 3 of those days that I’ll be in the Airbnb — when I am not seeing/listening to Nick Cave converse with people at night. I know I’ll be having some sort of meetings re: the play, but certainly not on all 3 of the days, so we’ll see. I’m not planning on being too social, so only a couple of people know I’m even going to be in town (she says as she posts it to her fucking blog…).
Anyway.
Loyal readers of this lofty (fucking) blog will be happy to note that I have started a little pile of things that must accompany me on the trip and I managed to remember to put both tickets to see Nick Cave in that pile!! There is every indication that those tickets, that I’ve had for like 4 months already, will indeed make it with me to New York!! (Without me needing to actually staple them to my forehead.)
As my trip approaches, the very real drama of how my many intensely feral cats will deal with my going away again begins. Since we came to this house, they have gotten really weird about me going away. I’m hoping that had more to do with the previous cat sitter, and not with the actual cats. My mom is a huge lover of animals and has been around all kinds of animals her whole life — horses, donkeys, cows, pigs, dogs galore, and a ton of stray cats. So I’m hoping the cats will be cool with her energy being here.
When I went to LA for 5 days last December, the cats had an absolute field day pissing on my bed. It was absolutely unbelievable. And I didn’t get home from the airport until about 3am that time, and to come in and find my bed like that — it was almost more than I could comprehend. It was saturated with cat piss. Pillows, bedspread, blankets, sheets — it soaked through two layers of foam mattress padding. It was just unreal.
Nothing says, “We are so fucking mad at you for leaving us with a stranger” than a queen-sized bed soaked in cat piss.
So I’m hoping for something less dramatic this time, even though I’ll actually be away for a longer time period. I’m putting my mom in my own bedroom, and letting the cats have the guestroom, which is where they like to sleep, so that they feel less disrupted.
I’m sort of hoping my mom doesn’t go through all my stuff but in all honesty, if she went away for a week and I was staying in her room, I’d probably go through all her stuff….
It’s not like she doesn’t already know I’m nuts so I guess it doesn’t really matter. She can go through my stuff if she feels like it.
Last night, I had the most amazing dream that Bunny, my sweet cat who died the morning after we moved to the rental house a couple years ago, had come back. I think she really was alive in my dream — meaning, she was there. She felt so real. God, it was so wonderful to hold her again.
She was such a sweet, compassionate cat. She started out as a semi-feral kitten. I got her and her brother, Buster, from a cat rescue in Times Square in NYC. They had been born behind a deli. Unlike these intensely feral cats I have now (I was supposed to only be fostering these ones I have now, but the cat rescue places got overloaded that year and so I wound up being their permanent home — and it’s not easy having a houseful of cats who won’t let you even touch them, and who run and hide whenever you walk into a room they’re in, and multiply that times 7 years already — it’s a wee bit alienating).
Anyway, Bunny became a really loving and demonstrative cat over time. I loved her so dearly. I woke from the dream feeling like I’ve somehow got to get her back. I miss her so much. But of course, it can’t happen. Still it was so wonderful to hang out with her in my dream.
Here’s some photos of her in the last house, before we got the rental. She moved 5 times with me, but the final move was so stressful on her that she suffered a heart attack.
Me and Bunny just chillin’ in my old bedroom in August 2013
Bunny taking a break from playing the piano in 2014
Bunny hanging with me on the couch, the first Christmas after her brother, Buster, died. (New Year’s Day 2014)
Moments later… (New Year’s Day 2014)
Okay, gang. On that note, I’m gonna scoot and get back to “Baltimore”!
I hope you have a terrific Thursday, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya.
“She’s Got You”
I’ve got your picture that you gave to me
And it’s signed with love, just like it used to be
The only thing different, the only thing new
I’ve got your picture, she’s got you
I’ve got the records that we used to share
And they still sound the same as when you were here
The only thing different, the only thing new
I’ve got the records, she’s got you
[Chorus]
I’ve got your memory or has it got me?
I really don’t know but I know it won’t let me be
I’ve got your class ring that proved you cared
And it still looks the same as when you gave it dear
The only thing different, the only thing new
I’ve got these little things, she’s got you
[Chorus]
I’ve got your memory or has it got me?
I really don’t know but I know it won’t let me be
I’ve got your class ring that proved you cared
And it still looks the same as when you gave it dear
The only thing different, the only thing new
I’ve got these little things, she’s got you
What the fuck? Do they not know how many CDs I still own? And even though I do stream a ton of music, there are hundreds of CDs that I don’t have in any sort of streaming version, including some Nick Cave stuff and several early Tom Petty CDs. I’m not sure how they think I’m going to be able to pull out of my driveway without certain songs on certain days.
I don’t actually have a driveway, but still. The thought of ripping CDs onto my laptop then transferring them to my phone– I am not a Geek. I am a crazed, lunatic writer. I do not have time to do stuff like that anymore.
That pissed me off so much that I almost got right back out of the car and said, “Take this back, please, and give me the old Honda Fit.” This grown-up business really sucks.
But here is the car I got. This is not the actual car. I don’t have a showroom to park it in. But I am too lazy to go downstairs right now and photograph the actual car. But it looks just like this, so don’t worry.
It does weird things like drives for you automatically for 10 seconds. It has a radar up front that automatically applies your brakes if someone ahead of you puts on their brakes. It keeps pace with the car in front you: if that car speeds up or slows down, you do, too. It has automatic lights so that you can blind people with your brights at night without meaning to — or you can drive in complete darkness, if you prefer to not blind people. (That seems to be my option: blind others or drive in total darkness.)
The other thing it does, which totally cracks me up because I love language: if you inch outside of your lane at either side, an orange warning comes on in front of you that reads: Lane Departure.
That word “departure” is what cracks me up. Who thought of that? They probably thought “watch what you’re doing, asshole” was too offensive to the driver, or that “put your fucking phone down & pay attention, you’re driving!” was too long to cram into that little orange space.
But the thing that disappoints me the most about the Civic is that it does indeed go really fast, but it is a more solid vehicle than the Fit so you do not feel like you’re going really fast. There is no soaring sort of thrill. So what is the point of going really fast? I might as well just go the fucking speed limit, you know? And save on gas and stuff like that.
They are forcing me to grow up. And I do not appreciate it. However, it is mine for the next 3 years.
As I was leaving the Honda dealership in the new car yesterday, across the street was a used car lot and right out there in front was a used Hellcat. It was in a bright metallic lime green color, not my favorite. But still. I looked at that car as I drove away and my heart sank… (Those Hellcats go from 0 to 210 mph in about 3 seconds. I realize there’s no earthly reason to do that if you’re not drag racing, but still. It just made me feel so sad.)
Anyway. So now I look like a grown up when I’m in my perfectly grown up car. (I’m not one, but no one will know that.)
Okay, well. Sandra and I actually spoke on the phone for 4 seconds yesterday. I was in the Honda dealership when she finally called me and I couldn’t talk. So now we are playing phone tag. A step up from texting…
The play rewrites are, of course, not finished. I’m getting stressed and depressed and all that stuff that I do so well. But I decided late last night to do some radical segment-intending, 24/7, for the next several days and pull myself past this. I usually only do segment-intending when I’m getting ready to get into the car. I have two profound needs whenever I’m driving. The main one is to not kill any animals out here in the middle of nowhere where there are so many scurrying about, and the other is to not wreck the car, since I am only borrowing it for 3 years and then giving it back.
For me, my segment-intending always includes giving appreciation to St. Francis (animals) and St. Christopher (the car). And then of course to Christ because he’s that thing in my life that tries to keep me from generally going insane. But segment-intending doesn’t really involve saints unless you’re me and your mind chooses to do weird shit like that.
But segment-intending works extremely well. So I decided to break the day/night into 5-hour segments, so every 5 hours, I visualize the next 5 hours going really smoothly and me not stressing out — staying calm, happy, even.
So far, it is working great. It really is. I’m in my second segment right now and not freaking out about anything at all, and only thinking of death as a viable solution in the most meager, fleeting sort of way. (Just kidding about that.)
And I slept like a rock for 5 hours last night, woke up and wasn’t worried about anything at all. I feel like I have this sort of mental protective force-field all around me, keeping out the garbage thoughts, and helping me just stay calm. It really is interesting, how my mind can actually feel it — feel protected, I mean. From my own thoughts.
However, on that note, my mind will feel even better when I finish the rewrites on the play so I better get started here. (Oh, I’ll mention here that it looks like all those additional Conversations with Nick Cave for January 2020 that went on sale yesterday sold out in, like, 4 minutes. I think this means that he is never going to stop conversing. This is not a judgement at all, but an observation.)
Okay!! I leave you with this song I used to really just love. It was breakfast-listening music today and I hadn’t heard it in years. I still loved it. It is such a soaring song. “The Whole of the Moon,” from The Waterboys album, This is the Sea (1985). Enjoy. Have a super Saturday, wherever you are in the world, gang. Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya!
“The Whole Of The Moon”
I pictured a rainbow
You held it in your hands
I had flashes
But you saw the plan
I wandered out in the world for years
While you just stayed in your room
I saw the crescent
You saw the whole of the moon
The whole of the moonYou were there at the turnstiles
With the wind at your heels
You stretched for the stars
And you know how it feels
To reach too high
Too far
Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon
I was grounded
While you filled the skies
I was dumbfounded by truths
You cut through lies
I saw the rain-dirty valley
You saw Brigadoon
I saw the crescent
You saw the whole of the moon
I spoke about wings
You just flew
I wondered, I guessed and I tried
You just knew
I sighed
But you swooned
I saw the crescent
You saw the whole of the moon
The whole of the moon
With a torch in your pocket
And the wind at your heels
You climbed on the ladder
And you know how it feels
To get too high
Too far
Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon
The whole of the moon
Unicorns and cannonballs
Palaces and piers
Trumpets, towers, and tenements
Wide oceans full of tears
Flags, rags, ferry boats
Scimitars and scarves
Every precious dream and vision
Underneath the stars
Yes, you climbed on the ladder
With the wind in your sails
You came like a comet
Blazing your trail
Too high
Too far
Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon
I finally made it to the end of the most important segment of the play last night. And I could not be more delighted — even though it’s a death scene, it goes to a tragic place. But it is relived within a dream, so it doesn’t have the same kind of sadness to it that it would have had in “real-time.”
And there is a sense of jubilation woven all around the tragedy, creating absolute (controlled) chaos. Helen is in agonizing despair, crying out Psalm 22, while the choir is in this jubilant refrain of Didn’t My Lord Deliver Daniel?, as Helen’s grandson, who has waited all his life to get a job on the railroad, finally gets that job up in Louisville, and then gets crushed by a train — but he goes gloriously to the sweet hereafter in all that joyous singing, while Helen’s heart breaks into a million pieces.
And all of it takes place within Helen’s dream where she is inside one of her paintings and the ghosts of her family come “alive” again.
I have been struggling with that whole section — 16 pages — for a couple of weeks now. It felt so amazing to finally finish it last night.
As usual, the Muse was working overtime and I could not have felt more appreciative.
Well, I did indeed make the 100 mile trek to get the less-than-10 minute interview for the TSA Precheck yesterday. And yes, I did manage to get a wee bit lost and my iPhone maps decided to stop speaking to me, only wanting to show me images while I was trying to drive, lost, on a strange freeway. Through some miracle of divine guidance, I finally found the darn place and made it right on time for my interview. But, man, what a lot of driving, a lot of gasoline, and then the “check oil” light came on halfway home… all that for a 10-minute interview.
So I called my sales rep at Honda when I got home, and I will leave it to him to let me know if I should come in and trade in the car for a new lease right now. I am so close to being at my maximum allowed mileage on the current lease, and now I need an oil change…
Plus, yesterday, I was trying to book my flight to NY — I want to fly into Stewart International because I’ll primarily be staying in Rhinebeck with Sandra, and as you can guess, there are no flights that come anywhere close to being a direct flight between here and a small airport like that one.
I have a variety of layover choices in Philadelphia, that range from 2 hours to about 8 hours. I’m not exaggerating. I could make about 7 commuter train trips between Philadelphia and NYC in that 8-hour layover. A direct flight between here and Stewart International would be 1 hour. But since there is no such thing as a direct flight between here and there, the minimum travel time is 6 hours, including me having to leave by 4:15am to make the one-hour drive to the airport to catch the first flight out at 6am.
And all of that would cost me 25,000 frequent flyer miles!!!!! (Round trip). I’m, like, you’re kidding, right? I can go to fucking Alaska for that. So now, if I do lease a new car right away, I think I’m gonna go ahead and drive again. It’s a 10-hour drive. And I can leave at whatever time in the morning I want to. But I can’t do it if I don’t have the new car yet, because I’m too close to going over my max miles.
So we’ll see what the rep says when he calls me back today.
Meanwhile, I am at last nearing the end of the play. I have one final section to revise. Between 15-20 more pages, tops. And I don’t have the luxury of it taking me an additional 2 weeks, so I’m hoping to have the rewrites finished here momentarily!! (Or, you know, maybe a week. That still gets the play to NYC a week before I get there.)
A quick update re: the sudden hashtag keanu situation in my Instagram feed — I’m actually finding it kind of soothing. Having my Instagram feed positively inundated with harmless photos of Keanu, night & day. It helps neutralize the somewhat emotional knee-jerk responses that I have to a lot of the other things/people I’m following. So I think I’m gonna keep it. A sort of social-media therapy: hashtag keanu; a new route to bliss.
You know, for many years, I was very good friends with a journalist who wrote primarily for Rolling Stone, the New York Times, etc. — big media outlets. And he interviewed a ton of movie stars in his career (he’s now a talking-head on a sports show). And the only movie star that he had nice things to say about was Keanu. He genuinely liked him.
I met Keanu at a party once in NYC, a million years ago, and I won’t say I actually liked him. He did something that insulted me — he looked down the front of my little black dress. I know it was very funny when they did that to the stepmom in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, but I had spent a fortune on that little black cocktail dress I was wearing, and I was in the process of being stood-up by my date because he was stuck in a midtown recording studio and was not going to make it to the party.
And it wasn’t just Keanu who was coming onto me that night while I wore that dress; a number of men were. And some were very nice & polite about it. But when the one guy you’ve gone to all that trouble for, doesn’t show up, then it doesn’t matter if you end up being the tallest, prettiest gal in the room; you just don’t give a fuck, you know?
I’m sure that on any other evening, any other night, any other year, Keanu is indeed very likable.
All righty!! I’m gonna get started here. I leave you with the song I was listening to this morning — another little love letter to the Muse!! I used to just love this song when I was 7 years old. Really, gang. I played this record all the time and sang along to it, too! I woke up at 4am today, thinking about this song for the first time in decades. And so of course I found it on Youtube. I sang along to it as the cats ate their breakfasts and they seemed to enjoy it. Purrrhaps you will, too! Thanks for visiting, gang! I love you guys. See ya!
“Call Me”
If you’re feeling sad and lonely
There’s a service I can render
Tell the one who loves you only
I can be so warm and tender
Call me
Don’t be afraid, you can call me
Maybe it’s late, but just call me
Tell me, and I’ll be around
When it seems your friends desert you
There’s somebody thinking of you
I’m the one who’ll never hurt you
Maybe that’s because I love you
Call me
Don’t be afraid, you can call me
Maybe it’s late, but just call me
Tell me, and I’ll be around
Now don’t forget me
‘Cause if you let me
I will always stay by you
You’ve got to trust me
That’s how it must be
There’s so much that I can do
If you call I’ll be right with you
You and I should be together
Take this love I long to give you
I’ll be at your side forever
Call me
Please, call me
Call me
Tell me, and I’ll be around
Call me
Don’t be afraid, you can call me
Maybe it’s late, but just call me
All righty!! The Labor Day holiday is here! The last gasp of summer is upon us!
I noticed quite a few cars heading off to work this morning, around 5:30am. So I guess a number of my neighbors are working on this fine American holiday that’s supposed to celebrate not working!
Ah, well.
I’m working, too, of course! But yesterday, I finally finished that segment of the play that I’d been struggling with for over 2 weeks, sent it off to the director in NYC, and he really loved it. And I actually do, too.
I finally, finally nailed it. And it only amounts to a lowly 2 and a 1/2 pages (!!), but it’s a story arc that shifts us from joy into something dark and turbulent, and none of it takes place in real-time; it all takes place within a painting within a dream. So it just took me forever.
The next segment is tragic, but I have a grasp already on how I want it to play out. So I’m feeling really good. I don’t mind working my life away.
And speaking of working our lives away… this morning, Nick Cave announced a million more Conversations in Europe for January 2020 !!!
Or maybe just 8? Whatever the true number, more Conversations are coming in January. However, I’m still not seeing Crazeysburg on that list of upcoming shows, and we are only a hop, skip, and a jump (and a jump and a jump and a jump and a jump and a jump and a jump and a plane and a bus ride) from let’s say, Germany… and there are at least 14 people here who would likely be willing to brave the January weather and make that 3-block trek in the ice and snow to our humble Town Hall… I guess 14 people will simply have to wait for Providence to shine upon them some other time.
Okay, gang. If you’re Stateside and having a cookout today, or going to the lake, or any of those really fun & cool things that I will once again not be doing, have a really great time!! Thanks for visiting! I leave you with what I was listening to this final morning of summer… a true heartbreaker, as we say goodbye to what we long for. But so very lovely. I love you guys! See ya!!
“Que La Vie Était Jolie”
Que la vie était jolie
Près de toi au long des jours
Aujourd’hui tout est fini
Dans les bras d’un autre amour
Au matin s’en est allé
Celui que j’ai tant aimé
Et je pleure sans espoir
Sans espoir de le revoir
Je voudrai ne plus penser
A la joie à nos baisers
Malgré tout j’entends sa voix
Qui me dit tous ces mots-là
Mes amis ont essayé
De m’aider à oublier
Mais je reste sans désir
Je suis triste à en mourir
Une fille est à son bras
Y’a pas longtemps, c’était moi
C’était moi qui l’embrassais
Et j’y croirai à jamais
Que la vie était jolie
Près de toi au long des jours
Aujourd’hui tout est fini
Mais je t’attendrai toujours
Marilyn's Room 