Tag Archives: marilyn jaye lewis

Not Exactly the Best Day Ever…

Well, I am going to be brief again today, gang. By late afternoon yesterday, after a couple of phone calls in a row, it suddenly seemed like everything was starting to go very wrong.

In my relationships, I mean. (Of which I have about 3 and a 1/2…)

I woke up this morning and the morning concurred: something is going really, really wrong. In every direction.

So I’m going to stay off line. Try to get my head together here. And if that proves fruitless, I’ll just take a bunch of little happy pills all in a row and sleep until Monday. Or later…. (The Big Sleep would actually be really nice, right about now, but I have way too many freaking cats relying on me.) (I actually think the Universe planned it this way, gang. I really do. It knows that, when worse comes to worst, I am always at least able to find meaning in the lives of every other living thing besides me.)

Anyway, before everything began to really suck, I did make some interesting progress with the flowers and the barn yesterday. Although the window that has no glass in it, and has the old man-made, louvered shutters, and the 8-inch window sill — I was not able to really do anything with it.  Although I pondered it for quite a while — how to make something work in that window. But I just couldn’t and since I already had the cloth flower planter and the flowers, the soil, etc., I put it all on the other window of the barn — the one that faces the street:

 

 

 

 

 

So now the neighbors can enjoy the flowers, but I can’t see them at all from my kitchen window, which was the original point! But oh well. It looks pretty from the street.

You’ll note that I have restored the “From the Vault” stories for now. Valerie in Brooklyn is having a lot of stress  — constantly traveling  between needing to look after her mom who lives up the Hudson a ways, and one of her 18-year-old cats dying at home — she has her hands full and cannot concentrate on doing any cover art.  So the re-issuing of The Muse Revisited collection (as well as publication of The Guitar Hero Goes Home)  is on hold. So the Vault is back until we can get back on track with the POD publishing projects.

Okay. I think that’s it. I no longer have any clue what day this is, but whatever it is, I hope it’s a good one for you, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya.

“I Am… I Said”

L.A.’s fine, the sun shines most the time
And the feeling is “lay back”
Palm trees grow and rents are low
But you know I keep thinkin’ about
Making my way back

Well I’m New York City born and raised
But nowadays,
I’m lost between two shores
L.A.’s fine, but it ain’t home
New York’s home,
But it ain’t mine no more

“I am”… I said
To no one there
And no one heard at all
Not even the chair

“I am”… I cried “I am”… said I
And I am lost and I can’t
Even say why
Leavin’ me lonely still

Did you ever read about a frog
Who dreamed of bein’ a king
And then became one
Well except for the names
And a few other changes
If you talk about me
The story’s the same one

But I got an emptiness deep inside
And I’ve tried
But it won’t let me go
And I’m not a man who likes to swear
But I never cared
For the sound of being alone

“I am”… I said
To no one there
And no one heard at all
Not even the chair
“I am”… I cried
“I am”… said I
And I am lost and I can’t
Even say why
“I am”… I said
“I am”… I cried
“I am”… I said

© 1971 Neil Diamond

Oui! C’est Moi!!

You know, I’m not violent at all. I’m way beyond even being a pacifist; if I accidentally kill an ant or a gnat, it will ruin my whole day.

But I am extremely maternal and my vocabulary gets truly ferocious when someone I love is being unfairly treated or attacked or something like that.

It’s kind of unbelievable how (loudly) protective I get, and it will happen in a heartbeat, going from 0 to Irish in 60 seconds.

And so, yesterday — wow, gang. All I can say is that it’s a good thing I live several thousand miles from Los Angeles. Peitor called to tell me about something going on in his personal life — he called it “odd” but I called it something like “petty fucking jealousy” and things along those lines (and lots worse) at sort of a loud decibel.

Peitor was being calm and rational about it, even though he was also upset, and even though he hates when I use the F-word, it was so out of control yesterday that he was actually sort of laughing about it. Sort of.

You know, some men like to fight their own battles, in their own ways, and don’t need some woman leaping in and getting her Irish up all over it and making everything horribly worse, so it’s a really, really good thing I was sequestered here alone in my house in the middle of nowhere.

It is such an amazing thing how, when things start going really good for you, someone you think would have your back or be excited for you,  suddenly gets so jealous. It happens all the time, you know. But it never ceases to amaze me. I am always so happy when good things happen to my friends or people I care about. Or even total strangers, for that matter — I just love to see good things happen.

So, those many hours of having my Irish up notwithstanding — I did have a really good day yesterday. And I streamed yet another episode of Professor T on PBS. Gang, that show is just so good. It isn’t just that the writing is great, but the storylines are so unpredictable, and the characters are truly 3-dimensional. They behave in ways that add real substance to the storyline. I just love it. And even though it’s a crime drama, it also has elements of humor in it that are also unpredictable.

Being a writer, I just really, really love that show.

Plus, I was listening to an old interview on YouTube yesterday, with the writer who wrote the explosive biography of Anne Sexton back in the late 1990s. It was really good. And it led me to finding a bunch of audio things of Anne Sexton reading her own poetry back in the 1960s. I listened to that for quite a while — sat at my kitchen table, looking out through my screendoor at yet another amazingly perfect summer evening. And just marveled at the poems. I already knew all of them, but it was interesting to hear her way of reciting them.

If you’re interested in hearing some of it, here is one of her more famous poems — “Letter Written On A Ferry While Crossing The Long Island Sound”.  It reads great on paper, but, in my opinion, it had a whole other dimension of flight and liberation to it when I heard her reading it out loud.

Overall, it was just a lovely evening. And I felt so grateful that the virus pandemic has actually forced my life to become really simple and just really beautiful in so many ways. Especially on summer evenings in the remote foothills of Appalachia — fireflies, poetry, peacefulness and all.

Today, I am going to do more work with Peitor on Abstract Absurdity Productions (wherein I will endeavor to move forward in a non-Irish manner). (I am Irish, btw, gang. I’m not just randomly picking on Irish people or anything.)

Then I am also going to try to spend some time figuring out how best to hang the cloth flower box thingie from the window sill of the barn. I have the cloth planter, I have the soil, I have the flowers. I have my drill battery charged (yes, the sole power tool which I own and actually know how to use), and I also have the hooks I need (I think). But the window sill is so old (110 years) that it is constructed very differently from any sort of window sill I’ve encountered before. And I also worry about the wood being so old — I don’t want to accidentally split it.

I wish that woman across the way from me had even an ounce of dyke-ness in her because then I’d go over and find some way to encourage her to come do this whole thing for me. She seems so capable. And she’s always out walking her little dogs so we always see each other.

But, you know, it’s also a good thing that she doesn’t have even an ounce of dyke-ness in her because, knowing me, it would get ridiculous. Well, ridiculously distracting and, likely, complicated.

Which reminds me, loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that last summer, I made a half-hearted attempt to upload an ad to one of those bi sex dating sites, and gave up yet again, because I am hopelessly inept at posting ads — it kept telling me I wasn’t doing it right, but then wouldn’t let me start over. (Plus, I knew there was not going to be anyone anywhere near me who would fit what I was looking for because, even while there are tons of bisexual women around here, non-smokers, non-drinkers, non-420-ers, non-meat-eaters — they don’t actually exist out here.)

Anyway, even though my ad was only half-finished and I couldn’t figure out how to actually remove it so it’s just sort of randomly hanging out there in the ether for all time, throughout the height of the pandemic, I got so many emails from (mostly men) replying to my ad.

Wanting to hook up.

During a pandemic.

And it never ceases to amuse and amaze me, how many men will reply to an ad that clearly says a woman is looking for another woman. It’s like something in their brains just cancels out the “wo” and sees only “man” instead. Just so funny. (Not to mention that it must show there somewhere on that half-finished ad that I haven’t even been to that site in a year.)

Anyway, I’m not going to answer any of these inquiries. But I did find it sort of astounding that during such a contagious pandemic, guys were still out there looking  to have random sex with strangers.

All righty!!

So I’m going to get going here today. I hope Wednesday finds you happy and healthy and enjoying your life. I’m leaving you with yet another song from Kris Kristofferson’s Silver-Tongued Devil and I album from 1971. This song I actually used to include in my set list on a lot of my gigs in my early folksinging days. I really love this song: “The Pilgrim -Chapter 33.” Listen and enjoy, if you so choose!! Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!

“The Pilgrim, Chapter 33”

See him wasted on the sidewalk, in his jacket and his jeans
Wearin’ yesterday’s misfortunes like a smile
Once he had a future, full of money love and dreams
Which he spent like they was going out of style

And he keeps right on a’changin’, for the better or the worse
Searchin’ for a shrine he’s never found
Never knowin’ if believing, is a blessing or a curse
Or if the goin’ up was worth, the comin’ down

He’s a poet, an’ he’s a picker, he’s a prophet, an’ he’s a pusher
He’s a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he’s stoned
He’s a walkin’ contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction
Takin’ ev’ry wrong direction on his lonely way back home

He has tasted good and evil, in your bedrooms and your bars
And he’s traded in tomorrow for today
Runnin’ from his devils Lord, and reachin’ for the stars
And losin’ all he loved, along the way

But if this world keeps right on turnin’, for the better or the worse
And all he ever gets is older and around
From the rockin’ of the cradle, to the rollin’ of the hearse
The goin’ up was worth, the comin’ down

He’s a poet, an’ he’s a picker, he’s a prophet, an’ he’s a pusher
He’s a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he’s stoned
He’s a walkin’ contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction
Takin’ ev’ry wrong direction on his lonely way back home

There’s a lot of wrong directions, on that lonely way back home

© 1971 Kris Kristofferson

Yay!! Let’s Talk about Film Budgets!!

Well, gang! Today is mostly going to be about Abstract Absurdity Productions work, now that the budget proposal has come in and we need to start hiring key people, bringing other people onboard.

Plus, I am actually planning on getting back to work on that website, if you can imagine that!! I have already been in touch with a “happiness engineer” here at WordPress so that I can quit floundering and, honestly, I really am going to finish that darn site as soon as I can.

Which doesn’t mean that I’m going to set aside Letter #8 for Girl in the Night. It just means that I am going to make more of an effort to get that website finished, because, of course, now we need it.

(And I also have that new film editing software that I have still not figured out how to use and I need to know how to use it for the web site content. However, to be fair, I’ve only been quarantined here at home for over 3 months now, so God knows, there was absolutely no time to sit around, learning new software…)

Pin by Leslea Parrish on Mid-Century: Family & Home Illustrations ...
Hard at work during the entire pandemic…

Seriously, though, I am really excited with Abstract Absurdity Productions’ recent developments and I will be eager to update you all as soon as I can.

Meanwhile, Nick Cave sent out a Red Hand Files letter-thing today, about the lack of politics in his songwriting style. As usual, it was very well stated and was very interesting. You can read it here, if you so choose.

Yesterday (June 22nd) was Kris Kristofferson’s 86th birthday. If you do not know who he is, he was an amazingly intelligent Country songwriter, who wrote some songs that became monster hits for Country & Western singers in the early-to-mid 1970s, primarily. He also put out his own albums with his own songs on them, and they were popular, but his songs tended to become just huge hits for other singers.

One of my favorite albums of his came out in 1971, and it was titled, The Silver-Tongued Devil & I.

The Silver Tongued Devil and I - Wikipedia

The songwriting on that album was very inspirational to me as a budding singer-songwriter throughout the 1970s. I played that record a lot. It’s not traditional “Country & Western,” the lyrics run much deeper. He’s more like the songwriters that were coming out of Los Angels in the late 1960s — a sort of Country Rock/Folk mentality. But Kristofferson was definitely embraced big-time in Nashville. (Although Janis Joplin had a huge rock/blues hit with his song “Me & Bobby McGee” before she died, and she was San Francisco-based.)

Some of his big hits for other singers include “Sunday Morning Coming Down” — Johnny Cash. “Help Me Make it through the Night” — every Country music singer imaginable. “For the Good Times” — Elvis Presley, along with many other singers. The list really just goes on forever.

It’s impossible to choose what would be my favorite song off that album because all of them are exceptionally well written, but I will leave you today with at least one of my favorites — this one was a hit on AM radio, at least it was in the part of Ohio where I lived back then: “Loving Her Was Easier (Than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again)”.

I cannot imagine that he is 86 years old now, but I hope his birthday was happy.

And on that note, I’m gonna get some more coffee here and get the day underway. Have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang! I love you guys. See ya!

“Loving Her Was Easier (Than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again)”

I have seen the morning burning golden on the mountain in the skies
Aching with the feeling of the freedom of an eagle when she flies
Turning on the world the way she smiled upon my soul as I lay dying
Healing as the colors in the sunshine and the shadows of her eyes

Waking in the morning to the feeling of her fingers on my skin
Wiping out the traces of the people and the places that I’ve been
Teaching me that yesterday was something that I’d never thought of trying
Talking of tomorrow and the money love and time we had to spend
Loving her was easier than anything I’ll ever do again

Coming close together with a feeling that I’ve never known before in my time
She ain’t ashamed to be a woman or afraid to be a friend
I don’t know the answer to the easy way she opened every door in my mind
But dreaming was as easy as believing it was never gonna end
And loving her was easier than anything I’ll ever do again

© 1971 Kris Kristofferson

Yep! Me & My Prized Male A.I. Sex Robot Are off to the Store!!

Yes! I asked the kind folks over at RealBotix if they could tweek Henry just a little bit and make him look like an older, extremely white guy, straight out of the 1950s — and they said, “Okay!”

He cost a little bit more, but he’s so worth it. He always smiles. And he’s not disgruntled in any way. (Plus, he knows how to drive our convertible, pictured above. Which means that I can spend the whole time worrying about my hair and fucking around with the radio.)

Yes. Life is a dream!!

And, yes — that’s also my way of saying that today, I’m going to drive into town and get groceries. This is not the same town where I would have bought my printer ink, btw, but it’s in the same county — see yesterday’s post if you so choose! Even though I’ve already had the virus and like to think I have those prized antibodies and at least some sort of seasonal immunity to getting it again, I still don’t like to go scurrying hither & yon over in the next county, where, currently, they still have 152 active cases of the virus.

Plus, no one out here in rural America really wears masks anymore. The elderly people do, and then everyone else just consumes massive doses of Vitamin D. 

(And I’m only making a little joke about Vitamin D, gang — it worked for me. That fucking virus held on for 2 months, and then I took 50,000 IUs of Vitamin D3 in the space of 8 days and got over it. So I think that the UK has it right. I’m just saying. The supplements are cheap and you have to really take an indescribable amount before you get dangerous side effects, so go for it this Fall. Especially people of color, since skin pigmentation effects how your skin absorbs Vitamin D strictly from the sun. And, of course, older people and the elderly of all races, because a certain deficiency in Vitamin D seems to come with age. (Moi, included there; I’m still on 3000 IUs daily.) (By the way, my 60th birthday is four weeks from today. This leaves you plenty of time to pick out something nice for my birthday!!) (To give to me, I mean; not to keep for yourself.)

All righty!! New topic.

I wish I could go into more detail about this on the blog, but all I can really say right now is that things with Abstract Absurdity Productions are going indescribably great, gang; just “beyond my wildest dreams” type of great.

Even though I was texted the breakdown of the overall budget for Lita måste gå! (AKA Lita’s Got to Go!) yesterday, after Peitor met with the line producer out in LA; and even though I could probably buy 30 top-of-line male AI sex robots with every singe imaginable bell & whistle for what it’s going to cost to make one 8-minute film (10-minutes, when you include the credit roll and the end piece); the news was still extremely good. I am so excited, gang, and I will keep you posted when I am able to. (And that A-list star that I am absolutely determined to get, gets closer every minute!!)

(And now that I’m actually thinking about it: 30 top-of-the-line “Henry’s” means about 6 male AI sexbots in each room of my house, not counting putting any of them in the bathroom, which would likely be necessary. Man, that would be so creepy.  To have them sitting around the dining room table, and the kitchen table, 3 or 4 of them sitting on my sofa and then one in the side chair, 2 or 3 in each bed, with a few more just standing around, watching the bed. Maybe one or two of them taking a bath or using the “convenience”! Golly. That would probably be the moment that I died from natural causes and every weird tabloid press across the globe would have photos of my “Sex-Crazed Creepy House in Small-Town America”!!)

However, to get back to reality…

Peitor and I still have a ton of paperwork and presentation-type stuff to get in place. And then there’s also that pesky web site I need to get back to, the one that refuses to design and build itself. So there’s still a lot to do. But — man. Talk about sun on the horizon; here it fucking comes — as soon as we get this “new normal” sorted out.

My Sweet Lord — the song that earned George Harrison a lawsuit ...
George Harrison in Heaven right now, likely singing “Hear Comes the Sun.”

Okay, well. I suppose I will close this and make that drive into town. It’s going to rain all day, with thunderstorms throughout. Best to just get out there and get it done.

I hope you have a great Monday underway, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with this really beautiful song that I don’t think I’ve posted here before, but I might have. It is allegedly a Grinderman song (one of Nick Cave’s bands), but I don’t know for sure, because as far as I know, it hasn’t actually been released on any record. But it is on YouTube — several videos, in fact. And all of them say it’s by Grinderman.  (Which is sort of a quasi-alter-ego of Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds.)

Anyway, the song is “Star Charmer.”  I have lyrics, but no copyright date.  But enjoy, gang. And have a terrific day!! I love you guys! See ya.

“Star Charmer”

Like a far flung star
There you are
Littlest than before
As you slip from my fingertips
Left me here on the burning shore

Searched and searched
Ah, you were worth so much
More than you ever thought you were
Everything you believe I still carry with me
Broken down on the burning shore

And it must have felt much easier
To have the stars along your side
And it must have felt much easier
To have the world along your side

A Daddy’s girl
I see you curl
And sleeping on the floor
Maybe you dream a little dream of me
Down here on the burning shore

Yeah, there you are
Attached to a star
Beyond the point of no return
Maybe you ought to spare a thought
For those of us down here who never learn

And it must have felt much easier
To have the world along your side
And it must have felt much easier
To have the stars along your side

© – Nick Cave / Warren Ellis / Martyn Casey / Jim Sclavunos

It’s Happy Everything Day!!

Yes — Happy Father’s Day! Happy Summer Solstice! Happy new moon in Cancer! Happy solar eclipse! Happy Mercury retrograde!!

Good luck with all that energy, gang!

I have definitely been feeling it all weekend. However, today feels a lot more calm and sort of perfect. I’m going to try not to allow anyone to speak to me today!!! That way there’s lots less likelihood that politics is gonna come up and force me, yet again, to disagree with everyone I know… (heavy sigh) !!!

I will at least speak to my dad today. I speak to him every day, but of course, since it is Father’s Day here in the US, I will — I don’t know? — speak louder, or something? Perhaps with more feeling? Who knows!

But other than that…

I got really good work done, yesterday, on Letter #8 for Girl in the Night. So we’re getting there. Unfortunately for me, though, the printer ran out of ink yesterday and I won’t be able to get any more until, like, Tuesday. I’m one of those writers that always needs to print out what I’m working on while I’m working on it, because my brain gets a better perspective on it when I can read it typed out on an actual page. I don’t process it as well when I’m staring at it on a computer screen.

But, such is life. Since gas prices are back to normal around here, and since it’s an hour of driving to town and back just to spend a fortune on printer ink in a store, I decided to have it delivered, which means Tuesday, and so on we go.

Okay!

Well, I am super loving that Belgian murder mystery show on PBS, Professor T. It is so fun. The writing is great. So far, I’m not binge watching it, though, because each episode is kind of intense. One episode a night is, so far, my limit. But this means that I can watch it for weeks!! Yay.

I also came to a decision about having some sort of flower box-type thing to hang in the window in my barn.

I got one of those hanging cloth-pocket thingies (you put the soil in the pockets and then plant the flowers right in the pocket, and it doesn’t matter how wide your window sill is, either, which is my main problem with the barn window — that 8 inch sill).

It has 4 pockets, so it will take up most of the width of the window sill and probably look really pretty. We’ll see. I do have to put in some heavy duty hooks on the underside of the sill, which makes me a little nervous because the wood (the whole barn, actually) is 110 years old. I don’t want anything attached and then hanging on it that might be too heavy. It all seems really solid, but I just don’t know. I thought the cloth bags would at least be a lot lighter than a whole window box set up, with metal brackets, etc.

Well, the fireflies are now in full bloom, so to speak! Last night, instead of a few here and there, they were everywhere. Coming up from everyone’s yards in blinking waves. So cool.

I was sitting at my kitchen table last evening, streaming a Ginger Rogers movie from, like, 1933, Shriek in the Night (it was actually really good — I’m pretty sure it was pre-code, so I’m guessing  1933, but I don’t remember for sure).

Anyway, I was sitting at the table, streaming the movie and watching all the fireflies light up everything outside my kitchen door.  And there’s a woman who lives two-doors down from me. She’s single, with two small dogs.  And she’s super active in her yard (puts me to shame — she’s clearly around my age, but has her own riding lawn mower and electric weed trimmer and is always making everything look really good — whereas, I am always waiting for some guy — any guy, I’m not that choosy — to come  and do everything for me!!). (Me, and any sort of powered, outdoorsy thing is just never a good idea.)

So, last evening, I watched her construct a metal fire pit in her backyard (which is a really big, wide open yard), and then I watched her build the fire in it. And then I watched her sit in a chair all by herself and stare into her fire pit.

I thought that was kind of awesome. I would be way too self-conscious to do something like that. Plus, me being 12 — you know, it’s sort of like power tools; me building a fire pit along with a fire  — all that seems just really dicey. But I did sort of vicariously enjoy her evening, while sitting at my kitchen table.

It was just a perfect summer evening, really.  Especially since I didn’t have to do any work. I got to just sit there and watch the fireflies and watch other people do awesome summer yard-thingies!! What could be better??!!

All righty. I’m gonna go call my dad now. Have a wonder-filled Sunday, wherever you are in the world, gang!! Thanks for visiting! I’m still on a bit of a Neil Diamond kick, so today I leave you with the song “Beautiful Noise” off of his 1976 album of the same name: Beautiful Noise.  (You know, I used to listen to this song when I lived in NYC and I just loved it. Now, I listen to this and I’m just so fucking glad I don’t live in NYC anymore!!!!! It has changed more than you can even believe.) All righty!! I love you guys. See ya!!

“Beautiful Noise”

What a beautiful noise
Comin’ up from the street
It’s got a beautiful sound
It’s got a beautiful beat

It’s a beautiful noise
Goin’ on ev’rywhere
Like the clickety-clack
Of a train on a track
It’s got rhythm to spare

It’s a beautiful noise
And it’s a sound that I love
And it fits me as well
As a hand in a glove
Yes it does, yes it does

What a beautiful noise
Comin’ up from the park
It’s the song of the kids
And it plays until dark

It’s the song of the cars
On their furious flights
But there’s even romance
In the way that they dance
To the beat of the lights

It’s a beautiful noise
And it’s a sound that I love
And it makes me feel good
Like a hand in a glove
Yes it does, yes it does
What a beautiful noise

It’s a beautiful noise
Made of joy and of strife
Like a symphony played
By the passing parade
It’s the music of life

It’s a beautiful noise
And it’s a sound that I love
And it makes me feel good
Just like a hand in a glove
Yes it does, yes it does
What a beautiful noise

Comin’ into my room
And it’s beggin’ for me
Just to give it a tune

© 1976 Neil Diamond

Cheered Up My Day!

I bought a limited edition coffee mug from Val Kilmer and it arrived today. He has a few limited designs left. They’re all based on famous lines of his when he played Doc Holliday in the movie “Tombstone.”

This one reads: “I have not yet begun to defile myself.”

If you haven’t seen the movie, it was incredible and Val Kilmer’s portrayal of Doc Holliday was off the charts! Visit ValKilmer.com to get one!!

Well, Happy June 19th!

There is a segment of the African-American population that doesn’t really want white people to appropriate their holiday– Juneteenth — which is today. So I won’t appropriate it, but it is big news right now so I will at least acknowledge it and, since most of my readers live in foreign lands, let you know about it!

Juneteenth is a holiday in the State of Texas, which was the final Southern State to emancipate black slaves on June 19, 1865, which meant that the entire country became ostensibly a free country — although freed blacks still had a really rough time of it , especially in the Southern States, after slavery was abolished. (That’s putting it mildly.)

However, African-Americans in the whole country now honor the Texas State holiday — called Juneteenth — which is today.

Also, today — “Disclosure” is premiering on Netflix;  a new documentary about trans lives in Hollywood. And Sandra Caldwell is interviewed in it, and was also featured in the Los Angeles Times over the weekend, in promotion of the documentary. (For readers who are new to this blog, Sandra is the Rhinebeck-based actor I work with on several theater projects. You can see her in 2 of those photos there from my trip to Rhinebeck, NY, this past September. In happier pre-virus, pre- lockdown days — when Nick Cave was still on his North American In Conversations tour!!) Sandra has been trans since the 1970s, and has been in many dozens of movies and TV shows (and stage shows) throughout that time.

Also, today is the release of Bob Dylan’s new album Rough and Rowdy Ways. This is his first album of all original songs in 8 years — and it includes that amazing new song of his that was dropped a couple months back, “Murder Most Foul.”

So, kind of a big day, with lots happening around here.

I am going to try to get some writing done, although I am battling depression here once again. So we’ll see how that goes. Sometimes I get good work done, even when I’m depressed. Other times — like yesterday — it quickly becomes a lost cause. But we shall see. I am still only halfway done with Letter #8 for Girl in the Night. And I would really, really like to finish that.

My current depression stems from a sudden inability to really discern a difference between being physical and being non-physical. (I won’t go into the myriad “Particle Physics” details of that whole thought process because it will literally make you just as insane as I am.) And now that so much of the US is just kind of reveling in such horribly awful shit every single day, with no end in sight, I keep inching toward that question: What is the point?

But I do have these many rescued feral cats depending on me, and I also know that at this particular juncture in time, Peitor would have a really difficult time coping with stuff if I simply bailed. So I try to stay focused more on him, than on these intensely convoluted thoughts concerning Particle Physics that are in my head. It would be nicest of all if I could just focus on writing today, though.

One bright spot — last evening, I began streaming  Professor T on PBS. This is a Belgian import — another murder mystery, however this one takes place in modern day. I think a new season is getting ready to drop, so I’m going to try to catch up. I really, really loved the episode I watched last night!! It’s so well written. Although, at first, the subtitles are a wee bit distracting. Eventually, though, I completely forgot that I was reading them — the show was so good.

Okay! I’m gonna close this. And I’ll leave you with one of the songs from Dylan’s new album — this one is titled “My Own Version of You.” Enjoy!! And thanks for visiting, gang. Make it a great Friday, wherever you are in the world!! I love you guys. See ya!

“My Own Version of You”

All through the summers, into January
I’ve been visiting morgues and monasteries
Looking for the necessary body parts
Limbs and livers and brains and hearts
I’ll bring someone to life, is what I wanna do
I wanna create my own version of you

Well, it must be the winter of my discontent
I wish you’d’ve taken me with you wherever you went
They talk all night and they talk all day
Not for a minute do I believe anything they say
I’m gon’ bring someone to life, someone I’ve never seen
You know what I mean, you know exactly what I mean

I’ll take the Scarface Pacino and The Godfather Brando
Mix it up in a tank and get a robot commando
If I do it upright and put the head on straight
I’ll be saved by the creature that I create
I’ll get blood from a cactus, gunpowder from ice
I don’t gamble with cards and I don’t shoot no dice
Can you look at my face with your sightless eyes?
Can you cross your heart and hope to die?
I’ll bring someone to life, someone for real
Someone who feels the way that I feel

I study Sanskrit and Arabic to improve my mind
I wanna do things for the benefit of all mankind
I say to the willow tree, “Don’t weep for me”
I’m saying to hell to all things that I used to be
Well, I get into trouble, then I hit the wall
No place to turn, no place at all
I’ll pick a number between a-one and two
And I ask myself, “What would Julius Caesar do?”
I will bring someone to life in more ways than one
Don’t matter how long it takes, it’ll be done when it’s done

I’m gonna make you play the piano like Leon Russell
Like Liberace, like St. John the Apostle
I’ll play every number that I can play
I’ll see you maybe on Judgment Day
After midnight, if you still wanna meet
I’ll be at the Black Horse Tavern on Armageddon Street
Two doors down, not that far a walk
I’ll hear your footsteps, you won’t have to knock
I’ll bring someone to life, balance the scales
I’m not gonna get involved any insignificant details

You can bring it to St. Peter
You can bring it to Jerome
You can bring it all the way over
Bring it all the way home
Bring it to the corner where the children play
You can bring it to me on a silver tray
I’ll bring someone to life, spare no expense
Do it with decency and common sense

Can you tell me what it means, to be or not to be?
You won’t get away with fooling me
Can you help me walk that moonlight mile?
Can you give me the blessings of your smile?
I’ll bring someone to life, use all of my powers
Do it in the dark, in the wee, small hours

I can see the history of the whole human race
It’s all right there, it’s carved into your face
Should I break it all down? Should I fall on my knees?
Is there light at the end of the tunnel, can you tell me, please?
Stand over there by the cypress tree
Where the Trojan women and children were sold into slavery
Long before the first Crusade
Way back before England or America were made
Step right into the burning hell
Where some of the best-known enemies of mankind dwell
Mr. Freud with his dreams, Mr. Marx with his ax
See the raw hide lash rip the skin from their backs
Got the right spirit, you can feel it, you can hear it
You’ve got what they call the immortal spirit
You can feel it all night, you can feel it in the morn’
It creeps in your body the day you were born
One strike of lightning is all that I need
And a blast of electricity that runs at top speed
Shimmy your ribs, I’ll stick in the knife
Gonna jumpstart my creation to life
I wanna bring someone to life, turn back the years
Do it with laughter and do it with tears

© 2020 Bob Dylan

The Excitement is Palpable in Crazeysburg!!

Wow, gang.

Usually, by 9pm, I turn off the ringer on my phone and then, anyone who texts me or calls me after that, it will just have to wait until the following day.

But last night, at around 9, when the ringer was off and I was done working, I was scrolling through TikTok and a silent, non-pinging text appeared on my screen from Peitor and it said, “Go look at your email — it’s going to make you feel good.”

So I figured I could continue working at least long enough to read an email that was allegedly going to make me feel good.

Oh, gang! It was the first professional/industry feedback from one of Peitor’s colleagues in Hollywood on our Lita måste gå! script. (AKA “Lita’s Got To Go!”)

We’ve already had feedback from people who want to get onboard Abstract Absurdity Productions and officially be part of the team (cinematographer, social media coordinator, line producer), and all of that early enthusiasm has made us both feel really great. It really has.

But this was the first response we’ve gotten from someone in the industry who was reading the final, fully-edited script, whom we’d asked specifically for critical feedback, and he could not have been more enthusiastic.  He totally “got” our concept: the European New Wave directors that our film is an homage to, the complete absurdity of our premise and our characters, and our absolutely inexhaustible attention to irony and detail.

The email didn’t just make me feel good, it made me feel fantastic.  And not just because of my recent anguish regarding white people (!!) and my play, or the utter lack of any sort of a response whatsoever from so many small presses over the last year regarding my newest novel — I have sort of gotten used to having my work exist in a vacuum now. So to finally have a human being respond so personally and so enthusiastically to yet another project I’ve (we’ve) been working on, heart & soul, for quite a while — it felt so great.

It really did. Plus, he made a point of giving special comments to our main absurd character (the only one that has dialogue — 5 lines in the film; the one I want a specific A-list star to play); his comments on that character sent me to the moon and back. I love that character so much — the complete erotic absurdity of him.

And without any irony at all, he asked us if we were planning to shoot on location in Sweden!! And, as loyal readers of this lofty blog already know — we fucking ARE planning on it!! A thing that causes me a wee bit of budget-related distress: shooting key scenes of an 8-minute film on location in Sweden…

So that comment made me feel really good, too. It was such a great way to end the evening.

Overall, though, yesterday was a really good day. I finally had some real breakthroughs on Letter #8 for Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse. It finally started to open up for me and I got really excited. (And, yes, that means that, yet again, I had to completely re-write the first 3 pages.)

And then — remember the toad that lives around my porches now? He seems to prefer the front porch — I’ve found him a few times hiding in a nook under the step, behind one of the flower boxes. Well, yesterday, late morning, I went out front to water the flowers and it turned out he was burrowed down in the soil inside one of the flower boxes and his brown color was perfectly camouflaged with the soil so I accidentally watered his head!!

It was so cute. The water from the spout of the watering can streamed right down on his head and his eyes sprang open, he looked up at me without really moving, but his expression seemed to say, “Well, thank you very much.”  It was so funny. I just love that toad.

The Tale of Mr. Jeremy Fisher - Wikisource, the free online library
Funny, it didn’t look like rain…

Well, okay!! I’m gonna get started here. It’s yet another lovely day — at least, so far!! However, I will consider the plight of my toad. They keep saying thunderstorms are coming later today, so we’ll see.  But for now, it’s a really beautiful morning. I’m going to get back to work here on Letter #8. It would be so cool if I could finally finish it this week!

Have a great Thursday, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with my evening-listening music from yesterday: another amazing oldie from my wee bonny teenage girlhood!! The late Andy Gibb’s “I Just Wanna Be Your Everything.” I hadn’t thought about this song in ages, and when I played it yesterday, I still absolutely loved it and then couldn’t stop playing it. So listen and enjoy, gang!! Okay. I love you guys! See ya!

“I Just Want To Be Your Everything”

For so long
You and me been finding each other for so long
And the feeling that I feel for you
Is more than strong, girl
Take it from me
If you give a little more than you’re asking for
Your love will turn the key
Darling, mine
I would wait forever for those lips of wine
Build my world around you, darling
This love will shine, girl
Watch it and see
If you give a little more than you’re asking for
Your love will turn the key

I, I, I just wanna be your everything
Open up the Heaven in your heart and let me be
The things you are to me
And not some puppet on a string
Oh, if I, if I stay here without you, darling, I will die
I want you laying in the love I have to bring
I’d do anything
To be your everything

Darling, for so long
You and me been finding each other for so long
And the feeling that I feel for you is more than strong, girl
Take it from me
If you give a little more than you’re asking for
Your love will turn the key

I, I, I just wanna be your everything
Open up the Heaven in your heart and let me be
The things you are to me
And not some puppet on a string
Oh, I, if I stay here without you, darling, I will die
I want you laying in the love I have to bring
I’d do anything
To be your everything

I, I, I just wanna be your everything (Your everything)
Open up the Heaven in your heart and let me be
The things you are to me
And not some puppet on a string
I, I, if I stay here without you, darling, I will die (Darling, I will die)
I want you laying in the love I have to bring
I’d do anything
To be your everything (I just wanna be your everything)

© 1977 Barry Gibb

Smooth Sailing Here in Crazeysburg, Gang!!

Happy, summer, gang!! We are getting there — just 4 more days!!

Well, another glorious day is upon us here, and I want to take full advantage of that feeling, because the next several days are supposed to include lots of thunderstorms.

Loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that thunderstorms around here means that, throughout the day and night, I go around closing 21 windows, then opening 21 windows, then closing 21 windows…. ad infinitum.

Until the storms clear.

Sometimes, I get so fed up with all the openings & closings, that I become very nautical and try to determine from which direction the wind is actually blowing, and then only close windows on that side of the house. Or sometimes, if it seems that no real wind is blowing at all, and the rain is sort of falling straight down, I close no windows at all and just sort of let everything get a little bit wet.

Okay, well!!

I am making the weirdest “progress” on Letter #8 for Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse. I was once again at it all day yesterday, and only managed to take about 4 paragraphs that I’d already written the day before and re-write them down to about 8 sentences. And then, after I’d closed down the laptop for the evening, I was re-reading what I’d re-written and realized that one of those sentences needed to be completely re-worded.

Multiply that by 3 weeks, or some such nonsense as that, and you get an idea of how long it’s taking me to write this particular “Letter.” And the weirdest part of it is that I know exactly what I want to write about! But the words are coming out so darn slowly. It is ridiculous.

Peitor is supposed to call today. I’m not sure if we’re doing Abstract Absurdity Productions work, or if we’ll just be chatting. We haven’t talked in a while, so either way will be good.

He’s primarily a music producer/composer, and he’s been in the studio a lot now, catching up on mixes because he couldn’t get in the studio while L.A. was in lockdown. The last few days, he’s been working primarily on mixing one particular song he wrote — with a very, very Beatles “Sgt. Pepper” type sound — and he sends me updates on the various mixes every day. And the one he sent over during the night blew my little socks off this morning! It was so fucking good!!

I wish I could post the music file for you here on the blog, gang, but he would probably kill me!! But it is just so good.

I just went on a google search to see if I could find info on the singer he’s using right now — a guy I actually follow on Instagram, but he usually goes informally by his initials and now I can’t remember his actual name so I can’t even find him on Instagram. Anyway, I found this great photo of Peitor instead!! From 2012  — (he’s about 55 years old here. He doesn’t ever seem to age at all). (He just turned 63 this past Tuesday.)

This Time (2012) - Covering Media

New topic…

I am indeed studying French again — on the Mondly app. Since I gave up studying Italian back in September, that’s where the Mondyl app left me — in September’s lessons — regardless of the fact that I am now studying a different language.  Since I actually know French, I am going through a month’s worth of lessons & quizzes every 2 days. I’m trying to get caught up to the actual current lesson (meaning June’s lessons). So I’m going at quite a clip.

It is definitely more conversational than any French I’ve ever studied. So, even though I tried just leaping in at June, I found a bunch of phrasing that I wasn’t really familiar with, so that’s why I’m trying to get all the lessons in order.

I really enjoy studying French, obviously. I have just always loved the French language (& culture) (& films, too,  god knows!!). But, now, as I’m studying — and of course, being reminded of all the various language courses in French that I’ve taken over the last 52 years (including but not limited to attending the Alliance Française in NYC):

Education Archives - Page 2 of 3 - Cerami & Associates

— I am of course very aware that, nowadays, people just speak English into their phones and then out it immediately comes from their phones in the language of whoever it is that they’re trying to talk to.

No incentive (or need) anymore to really learn a language at all, so I’m not 100% sure why I am still bothering. But I just love the darn language! So on I go!!

Plus, I’m learning nouns that, oddly enough, I’ve never learned before. Like the French words for “shark,” or “monkey,” or “housefly.” Sort of common words, right?  But I have always studied more of a “business” type, formal French. And certain ordinary words, in all this time, have never come up!

My French colleagues in Paris used to tell me that I actually wrote French better than most of the actual French people they knew. Which means that, if you’re just a regular French person trying to converse casually with me, I don’t have a clue what you’re saying!! I honestly don’t.  (If I was in a publisher’s office, having a meeting, though, I could understand everything because the French I know is so formal.)

Anyway, this is why I say that, after 52 years of studying it, I still don’t speak French. Maybe this time will be different!! We shall see.

And if I still can’t speak French after 53 years, I’ll just speak English into my phone and let my phone converse with you.

Okay, so!! On that chipper note…

I’m gonna get started here today. I hope you have a great Wednesday, wherever you are in the world and in whatever language you speak!! I’m leaving you with my breakfast-listening music from today, even though I’ve posted it here before — “Opium Tea” from B-Sides & Rarities (2005) by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds. I love the mood of this, and the pacing and the melody. So listen (again) and enjoy!! Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys! See ya!!

“Opium Tea”

Here I sleep the morning through
Till the wail of the call to prayer awakes me
And there ain’t nothing at all to do but rise and follow
The day wherever it takes me

I stand at the window and I look at the sea
And I am what I am, and what will be will be
I stand at the window and I look at the sea
And I make me a pot of opium tea

Down at the port I watch the boats come in
Watch the boats come in can do something to you
And the kids gather around with an outstretched hand
And I toss them a diram or two

Well, I wonder if my children are thinking of me
‘Cause I am what I am, and what will be will be
I wonder if my kids are thinking of me
And I smile and I sip my opium tea

At night the sea lashes the rust red ramparts
And the shapes of hooded men who pass me
And the moan of the wind laughs and laughs and laughs
The strange luck that fate has cast me

Well, the cats on the rampart sing merrily
That he is what he is and what will be will be
Yeah, the cats on the rampart sing merrily
And I sit and I drink of my opium tea

I’m a prisoner here, I can never go home
There is nothing here to win or lose
There are no choices needed to be made at all
Not even the choice of having to choose

Well, I’m a prisoner here, yes, but I’m also free
‘Cause I am what I am and what will be will be
I’m a prisoner here, yeah, but I’m also free
And I smile and I sip my opium tea

© 1996 Nick Cave, Conway Savage

Simplicity is So Fucking Cool!!

Tuesday in Crazeysburg!!

The house is clean. The laundry is well underway. The fridge is full of food. The weather is unbelievably perfect. I at least look like I’ve lost some more weight today but I’m not gonna get on the scale and find out for sure, I’m just going to assume that I did!!

And the cell phones seem to be up & running again!! (T-Mobile claims it was an “IP traffic-related” issue, but I’m sure we all know it was really another white anarchist domestic terrorist attack…)

But, regardless — it’s over! Today is officially perfect!

Okay.

I am going to try to make some significant progress on Letter #8 for Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse. It has been such slow-going around here. But I’m feeling like today could be the day where a bunch more words are going to finally come out and land on the page!! We shall see!

One of the things I really like about this collection is that each “Letter” comes out so differently. And I honestly never know what to expect from them until they do come out. And, obviously, since these are memoirs, they are intensely personal, which can also be very illuminating (to me, I mean).  And then each of the finished “products” (each letter) sets me apart from myself and I become an observer of my life for a few minutes.

It is a very cool process, even though it’s also almost stupidly personal at the same time.

And another thing I love is knowing that I’m self-publishing everything from now on. I don’t have to worry about whether publishers or booksellers are going to be uncomfortable with what I’m writing about.

You know, back in 1999, when Neptune & Surf came out, the largest bookstore chain in America, Barnes & Noble, refused to carry the book — the same book that the Guardian newspaper in England called one of their Top Ten picks for summer reading that year. If a person went into a Barnes & Noble here in the States and asked for it to be ordered for them personally, the store would do it, but they refused to carry my book in their stores because of the novella, “Gianni’s Girl”. It offended them beyond belief. Even though the publisher had made sure (for once) to put a beautiful, non-sex-related cover on the book — it still didn’t help.

(And Trump actually had nothing to do with that!! Can you imagine?? Life used to suck a lot, even back then!!)

Well, a lot has changed since 1999, still, it is so mentally liberating to just write now and not worry about how I’m going to pitch the thing to an editor somewhere.

The plays and the movie scripts are different. They’re sort of eternally evolving processes that are always collaborative, in a sense. A lot of input along the way from others  in those projects . But my books are still just me, by myself, sitting at my  (indescribably tiny) desk, writing.

All righty. Well, I need to get going here. Finish the laundry and then call my dad — with the phones out for so many hours yesterday, I was not able to call and check in with him. So I need to do that.

I hope you are having a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are  in the world, and that maybe your weather is as perfect there as it is here today. Not too hot, but totally sunny and just so peaceful. (And I am still totally obsessing about getting some flower boxes in that barn window, gang, so I need to figure out what the heck I can do about that!)  Meanwhile…

I leave you with a song I haven’t listened to in awhile, but it came up on Instagram this morning, so I leave you with that today — “Babe, I Got You Bad”,  from Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds’ B-Sides & Rarities (2005). (I think I’ve posted it here before, but here it is again!!)

Okay, enjoy. And thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys! See ya!

 

“Babe, I Got You Bad”

Babe I got you bad
Dreaming blood-wet dreams
only madmen have
Baby I got you bad
I wish to God I never had
And it makes me feel so sad,
O, Baby I got you bad
Yeah, Babe I got you bad

I long for your kiss,
for the turn of your mouth
Your body is a long thing
Heading South
And I don’t know what I’m talking about
All of my words have gone mad
Ah, baby I got you bad

Seasons have gone wrong
And I lay me down in a bed of snow
Darling, since you’ve been gone
well my hands, they don’t know where to go
And all of my teeth are bared,
I got you so much I’m scared
Ah, baby I got you bad

With the sweep of my hand
I undid all the plans
that explode at the moment I kissed you
on your small hot mouth
and your caramel limbs
that are hymns to the glory that is you.
Look at me darlin’ it’s sad sad sad
Look at me darlin’ it’s sad sad sad
Baby I got you bad

Smoke billowing from the bridges
and the rivers we swim in are boiling
My hands are reaching for you everywhere
but you’re not there, or you’re recoiling
and a weary moon dangles from a cloud
Oh honey, I know it’s not allowed
To say I got you bad.

I got you bad…
I got you bad…
I got you bad..

© 1997 Nick Cave