Tag Archives: marilyn jaye lewis

A Wee Bit on the Rainy Side Today

Rainy days in October are really beautiful in Ohio.

When I was six years old, in the first grade in school in Cleveland, our class had a little “field trip.” It consisted of spending part of our lunch hour taking a walk around the block, where there were lots of big old houses and old trees, to look at the autumn leaves.

It wasn’t supposed to be raining for the field trip, but it was. And so we all had on our little rain coats and rain hats, and took our walk in the rain. And I thought that the fall leaves, clinging to the wet sidewalk in the rain, were the prettiest things I’d ever seen. And I never forgot it.

Now, whenever there’s a rainy day in October, and autumn leaves are clinging to a wet sidewalk, no matter where I am in the world, I always remember that moment in Cleveland when I was six.

Another part to that story, though, is that it happened when my adoptive grandfather was retiring down in Columbus, and so there was a big retirement party for him — but only for the adults. And so my parents went down to Columbus for the party and my older brother went to stay overnight with one of his school friends, but I was sent to stay overnight with friends of my parents who lived close to the school and so could drive me there the following day. (The following day was the day of our big field trip to see autumn leaves.) And I remember that my mom had packed my lunch for the field trip in a little brown paper bag and she gave it to the lady of the house I was spending the night at.

To me, it was such a big deal that my mom had packed my lunch because back in those days, we didn’t eat lunch at school, we always came home for lunch and then went back to school for the afternoon. So I just thought that was the coolest thing, that I had a little brown paper bag with my lunch in it and that my mom had made it for me before she went out of town.

I was really scared to be away from home for a night, and to be in a house where I didn’t know anyone. The family had an older girl and an older boy — they were a lot older than me, teenagers. And I was going to be sleeping in one of the twin beds in the older girl’s room, and I remember that she was so incredibly nice to me, because I was crying in the dark, and she told me not to be scared — that my mom and dad would be coming to get me after school the very next day.

But what I vividly recall is the older boy had a butterfly collection down in their family room, which was in the basement. It was quite an extensive collection and I had never seen anything like it before. Of course, nowadays, I would freak out because I don’t like to think of anything being killed simply for a “collection,” but back then, I didn’t know anything about stuff like that, and I just thought the butterflies were quite amazing.

The boy explained everything about it to me, how he caught them, how they were killed, and then mounted. And he explained what each one of the butterflies were named, etc. He must have been extremely patient to spend so much time with a 6 year-old girl who was on the verge of crying the whole time because her parents had “left her there, all alone.” I just remember that he was so nice. He was something like 17 or 18 years old already.

Even though that memory has followed me to places all over the country and in different cities all over the world, it’s kind of poignant that today, I am looking at fall leaves on a rainy sidewalk, back in Ohio 54 years later, but it’s my own house now. (Photo below.)

And I wonder if those two teenagers are even still alive now, you know? They certainly could be, but they’d be over 70 years old.

You know, it really just seems like yesterday. I can’t really believe it.

Okay, gang. I’m gonna scoot. Have a beautiful Monday, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya!

The rainy world outside my house today.

“Hold On Girl”

I know about the guy who treated you so bad,
He took your love and then just walked away.
I know that you have got a reason to be sad
But help is on its way.

Hold on girl be a little bit stronger,
Hold on girl wait a little bit longer,
Hold on girl, help is on its way.

I know you feel as though your world is at an end,
But you don’t have to live with yesterday.
I promise you the sun is gonna shine again,
And help is on its way.

Hold on girl, now that we are together,
Hold on girl, things are gonna be better,
Hold on girl, help is on its way.

© 1967 Jack Keller, Billy Carr, Ben Raleigh

A Gentle Little Sunday in the Hinterlands

Okay, gang. Happy Sunday!

It is so quiet and lovely and autumnal around here this morning. I am really in “slow” mode, just taking it easy.

Oh, guess what? After refusing to get on my bathroom scale for a couple of months now because of all that frustrating COVID 19 weight that I couldn’t seem to budge, I decided to weigh myself today and I’m at my goal weight. The weight I prefer to be at all the time  when there is no fucking virus going around. This means I lost 13 pounds without even trying. So even while the virus is starting to spike again the world over, I lost my stupid COVID weight. Yay.

Before I forget, M. Christian has a reading of a brand new queer/BDSM/cyberpunk story, “Kintsugi,” that just went live on the Nobilis Sci-Fi Erotica Podcast. (Chris is not reading it, Nobilis is reading it.) You can listen to it here:

And speaking of erotica… it was slow-going with “Novitiate” yesterday. (My current erotic short story that is in progress.) (Oh, I also noticed that many typos occur, and one occurred in the excerpt I posted here the other day — where I suddenly call “Paula” by the name of “Paul,” which makes for an interesting and rather abrupt plot twist. However, it is actually just Paula, throughout! I’ve made the correction to the excerpt.)

Anyway, I hope I make better progress with the story today. I know what I want to say, but so many scenes seem to want to collide in my head at once, and not all of them really need to be in the story. So I am having trouble sorting it all out and then getting it onto the page in a way that I actually like.

On a different note, last evening I began streaming a re-edited documentary on The Monkees. (Hey, Hey We’re the Monkees, originally made in 1997.) I’m not sure if I’ll keep watching it or not. Two of the Monkees are now dead (Davy Jones and Peter Tork), and who knows if the remaining two have now changed their view on the whole experience. But I think I might just like to keep enjoying the reruns and remembering how happy that show made me in my childhood.

Amazon.com: The Hey, Hey We're the Monkees: The Monkees, Davy Jones,  Michael Nesmith, Peter Tork, Micky Dolenz, Paul Mazursky, Ward Sylvester,  Peter Noone, Don Kirshner, Bobby Hart, Jeff Barry, Chip Douglas, David

I did already know that the actors were not 100% happy with the experience of being a “Monkee”, but I’m not sure I need to know every single bit of it. We’ll see, I guess. (For instance, Mike Nesmith has maintained over the years that the album More of the Monkees was one of the worst albums in the history of the world. When, in fact, it is one of the best. And back in the early 1980s, when I was a folksinger in Greenwich Village, Peter Tork sometimes played one of the clubs I played at, and he was really just a basket case, mentally, at that point in his life. And it stemmed from the whole Monkees experience.)

And I never did get to finish watching the Ronnie Wood documentary last week, which kind of sucks. Because it wasn’t my fault that the darn stream kept buffering until it finally just froze up. And then I never got time to get back to it during that window of 72 hours. However, I did really love the Bill Wyman documentary, and that Brian Jones documentary, sad as it was. So I guess I’ll survive!

Okay. I think that’s really it for today, gang. I guess I will get my Sunday morning started here (I’ve actually been up for 6 hours already, so that gives you an idea of just how slow I am taking things today!) I hope you have a wonderful Sunday going on, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting.  I leave you with a song I’ve left you with many times before, but it always makes me feel really good about Tom Petty, so here it is again. “You and Me,” from off of his Last DJ album of 2002. All righty, enjoy. I love you guys. See ya!

Still Alive & Well!!

Yes! I am talking about the petunias!

There is a layer of frost on my grown-up car this morning. There is frost on the rooftops. Frost on the lawns and on all the autumn leaves lying all over the lawns. And yet, the petunias are doing just fine.

I guess it has to be a real killer “killer frost” to faze these petunias.

So that was a sort of little happy burst of wonder when I went downstairs for breakfast this morning at 4am.

I also saw that another new song was dropped for the upcoming album, Idiot Prayer: Nick Cave Alone at Alexandra Palace. And this one is actually a new song — “Euthanasia.” It was in my Amazon music library this morning. I just love this song. It is so pretty.

And while I’m thinking of it, I forgot to post yesterday that Nick Cave sent out another Red Hand File on Thursday that was very interesting, regarding a reader’s concerns about Narcotics Anonymous and stemming the seemingly endless tide of heroin addiction. You can read it here.

And also this morning, someone from Europe that I follow on Instagram, who only posts photos and quotes (in English) of various  writers and poets from all over the world, asked if he could quote me on his page today. I was so flattered. In all honesty, I love his page because I have found out about some really interesting writers and poets from South America and Europe by following his page.

He quoted from the ending of Neptune & Surf, and I sent him a photo of me, taken by Valerie while we were at Coney Island. This was during the years that I was actually writing Neptune & Surf. (N & S takes place on Coney Island in 1955.) (The photo is from 1994 or 1995.)

Since I now know how to capture people’s Instagram feeds, I share it with you here. (I really was so touched, gang.)

So my morning has been off to a pretty good start around here today.

I’m planning on just spending the day working on the new erotic short story, “Novitiate.” I’m at one of those junctures where the story begins to just go off the charts in terms of the eroticism, so it requires 110,000,000 % of my concentration.  (Luckily, I’m not prone to exaggerate, otherwise I’d probably throw some really huge number out there…)

Okay, now, on a more serious note.  I have to very soberly question what’s up with the new Tom Petty album — Wild Flowers & All the Rest. Slavish devotee of Tom Petty’s that I am, he (and Rick Rubin, the producer) had said over the years that there were something like 25 additional songs that were not included on the original album, but that Tom Petty had wanted to release on a follow-up to Wildflowers some day.

And this new album has been touted for many, many months (years?) as that album. However, even while there are 54 (!!) songs on this new album, there are only 6 (!!) songs on this collection that I would consider to be actually new, never-heard-before songs.

There are many songs that are never-before-heard versions of songs we already know — meaning they are his home demos. Or perhaps songs with their original lyrics, that wound up changing when the songs were eventually released on other albums. Or “live” versions of songs, etc.

But there are only 6 songs that I don’t recall ever hearing before, ever.  So where are the other 19 or so “brand new songs”?

I’m wondering if, next October, when we once more commemorate the anniversary of his death, they will be releasing the all-new Oops We Forgot to Include These follow-up to the follow-up of Wildflowers

I’m not 100% super happy about this, gang.

Anyway.  On we go, right?

Okay, sometime next week, I think I will finally be a guest on one of M. Christian’s podcasts (he co-hosts two podcasts), discussing The Guitar Hero Goes Home, and probably also talking positively about sex-positive topics. I will keep you posted!! I will try hard to speak like a grown-up. We shall see if I succeed or not. (Although I have already told them I will discuss anything except politics and the virus. So I’m not sure if there are any grown-up topics left…)

Regardless, I’m excited!!

Okay, let me get started here, folks. I hope you have a great Saturday underway, wherever you are in the world! I leave you with my breakfast-listening music from this morning. I was once again back to More of The Monkees! This one, another great tune penned by Mike Nesmith, a member of the group, “The Kind of Girl I Could Love”.  I truly love this song, it is so upbeat (well, I love the whole album). Play it loud. And enjoy. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!!

“The Kind Of Girl I Could Love”

Girl, you look mighty good to me
And I know that you’ve got to be
The kind of girl I could love.

You’ve got the sweetest pair of eyes
And your kiss would be paradise
The kind of girl I could love.

You do something to my soul
That no one’s ever done.
If you’re looking for true love
Then let me be the one.

Girl, deep in my soul I’m sure
And my heart has no doubt that you’re
The kind of girl I could love.
The kind of girl I could love.
[Repeat and fade]

© 1967 Michael Nesmith, Roger Atkins

One of Those Mornings

I awoke at 3:56am today, and the first thing I did was check my Amazon music library for the new Tom Petty album (which I apparently paid for at 12:01 am) and the only things in there were the 5 songs they had already dropped weeks ago…

So, after breakfast, journaling, meditation, cleaning up after 7 cats, etc., I spent about 15 minutes just trying to find the actual customer service page on Amazon. Then it took close to 30 more minutes to straighten out the problem.

I haven’t listened to it yet but at least now it is there. And I hope the rest of the day is just easy-peasy…

Yesterday, there was something on Instagram indicating that some of Nick Cave’s fans don’t like Cave Things because they feel it is mercenary and exploitative. And I guess he has been “cancelled” by some of his “cancel culture” fans because of it.

I do think the stuff is really expensive, but it kind of amuses me.  Plus, I am a capitalist, and I feel that if the market will bear it, then one should reap the rewards of it.

I certainly would do it if I thought anyone on Earth would pay me £300 plus shipping for anything whatsoever.

On a similar note, though — yesterday was a little depressing for me. The Guitar Hero Goes Home is not exactly selling like hotcakes, and no one has reviewed it, except for the initial reviews I got before the book was published. So there it languishes. Even though, because it is experimental fiction and not erotic fiction, I did not really expect it to sell that great. And I was sort of hoping that after I died, there would be some sort of market for it. And I’m actually really okay with that. But what depressed me, was that I scrolled through the out of print book titles of mine that are being sold on Amazon and they are once again,  going for extremely high prices.

For instance, a copy of Entangled Lives, selling for $967 plus $3.99 shipping (I’m guessing that Nick Cave autographed it…) (Just kidding.). A mass market paperback of Neptune & Surf selling for $132 plus $3.98 shipping.  Seven “new” editions of a hardcover version of When the Night Stood Still — each selling for $98.96 plus shipping, and that book never came out in hardcover, ever, so that’s just criminal all the way around.

What bothered me most was that a print edition of Twilight of the Immortal is selling for $244.99 plus shipping, and that edition is full of typos, which is why I canceled the contract with that publisher and pulled it from stores all over the world. And then hired a professional editor to edit the eBook edition. But it doesn’t really matter too much, does it?

And I felt two things: why can’t people pay those kinds of prices while the books are still in print and I can benefit from it in some way? And why is there more of a market for my out of print books, than for a brand new one that is just now “in print”?

I can’t really answer that.  But it makes me kind of sad — that my name is worth more than my actual living self.

So that sort of helped yesterday feel sucky. (But it does bode well for that idea that The Guitar Hero Goes Home will sell great after I’m dead…)

Otherwise, I did get some writing done on the new erotic short story (“Novitiate”). And in case you haven’t seen it yet, I posted a brief excerpt from it last night.

So, you know, it’s a sort of “onward” kind of day around here.

Tonight will be that killing frost, so I spent some time saying goodbye to the petunias yesterday.  And we shall see what next summer brings.

Other than that, I don’t really have too much to say here today, gang.

I leave you with last night’s listening music.  “Heart of Gold,” by Neil Young, from off of his incredibly great album Harvest (1972). Listen and enjoy. Have a wonder-filled Friday, wherever you are in the world. And thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya.

A Glorious Thursday Before the Frost!

Yes, tomorrow is allegedly bringing with it a killer frost, and so I will be bidding a fond adieu to all my petunias today.

Even though I don’t usually grow petunias, because of the virus, I wasn’t able to get what I usually like to plant in the flower boxes on the porches. However, the petunias made me really, really happy this summer. Just a constant riot of color — not to mention one of the flower boxes on the front porch served as home base to my lovely toad. (Through his impeccable patience, I eventually learned how to not water his head when watering the petunias…) (Nobody stares at you quite as patiently as a toad with water on his head.)

And in honor of tomorrow bringing the first real frost, today is an amazingly lovely fall day.  Cool but not cold, sunny, with gorgeous leaves everywhere — most of them still on the trees for as far as the eye can see.

And I’m doing laundry. This is the time of year where I start to bring out the flannel sheets for my own bed – the bottom sheet, only. I don’t usually need all the flannel sheets until closer to Thanksgiving (late fall).

So everything is changing and I am doing totally okay with it. I’m not morbidly missing the summer. (We’ll see how tomorrow goes — the “new” Tom Petty album drops tomorrow. It might make me really sad and really miss the summer, but we’ll just wait and see.)

Tom Petty Wildflowers & All the Rest

I keep thinking that, one of these days, life will just be fine and I’ll be okay with everything that comes my way. (I’ve been thinking this for 60 years now, but that fact should not cloud our judgment! Today could end up being the very day when suddenly I am forever totally okay with everything…)

Okay!

Well, the publisher needs an excerpt from “Half-Moon Bride” to put on their website, and they suggest that it be, you know — erotic. To get people to want to read more of the story (i.e., to buy it).

So I’m reading it over for the first time since I wrote it, trying to process this whole insane story. It is just, like, pornographic from start to finish, gang, so where do you jump in and create an “excerpt”? You kind of have to read it from start to finish, to get any real grasp on it. Separating out even the smallest segment of it just ends up seeming like utterly insane porn, in my opinion.  (Two hermaphrodites on their wedding night; one extremely giant-sized, the other one rather petite (and a truly clueless virgin). And if you don’t know those facts ahead of time, then it really comes off sounding insane.) (i.e., the clueless virgin loses her virginity while trying to come to terms with also suddenly having a P-spot and her first erection…) (aka: the joys of hermaphrodite sex!!)

9,384 Laughing High Res Illustrations - Getty Images

But the publisher needs me to do this ASAP, because they asked for it last week, so I need to figure out an “excerpt” that will not make me seem like the most insane writer in the annals of recorded history.

Once I do that, I will get back to work on the newest erotic short story around here, “Novitiate.” (If I can come up with excerpts from either story that seem tame enough for the blog, I will post them this evening. We’ll see!)

And over at Cave Things, a new charm is coming soon that I’m sure you’ll want to grab as soon as it’s available:

Isn’t that cute?? I’m guessing it will cost about £300 (plus shipping) and sell out in about ten minutes…

All right, well. I need to go downstairs and check on that laundry and finish making the bed. I hope you have a lovely Thursday wherever you are in the world and in whatever season it is where you are!! I leave you with my driving  to town & back music from yesterday. This is such a great song for driving really fast on an almost empty highway, with blue skies and gorgeous fall trees all around you for miles and miles and miles. I hadn’t listened to this song in years.  Rod Stewart’s legendary version of “Rhythm of My Heart,” from his 1991 album, Vagabond.  Needless to say, to get the full effect of this song, you have to turn the volume up to eleven

Okay!! Thanks for visiting, gang. I might be back tonight to regale you with brand-new literary “erotica”. We’ll see how it goes. I love you guys. See ya!

“Rhythm Of My Heart”

Across the street the river runs
Down in the gutter life is slipping away
Let me still exist in another place
Running under cover of a helicopter blade

The flames are getting higher in effigy
Burning down the bridges of my memory
Love may still be alive somewhere someway
where they’re downing only deer
a hundred steel towns away

Oh the rhythm of my heart is beating like a drum
with the words “I love you” rolling off my tongue
No never will I roam for I know my place is home
where the ocean meets the sky
I’ll be sailing

Photographs and kerosene light up my darkness
light it up, light it up
I can still feel the touch of your thin blue jeans
Running down the alley I’ve got my eyes all over you baby
Oh baby

Oh the rhythm of my heart is beating like a drum
with the words “I love you” rolling off my tongue
No never will I roam for I know my place is home
where the ocean meets the sky I’ll be sailing
I’ll be sailing

Oh I’ve got lightning in my veins
shifting like the handle of a slot machine
Love may still exist in another place
I’m just yanking back the handle
no expression on my face

Oh the rhythm of my heart is beating like a drum
with the words “I love you” rolling off my tongue
Never will I roam for I know my place is home
where the ocean meets the sky
I’ll be sailing

Oh the rhythm of my heart is beating like a drum
with the words “I love you” rolling off my tongue
No never will I roam for I know my place is home
where the ocean meets the sky
I’ll be sailing

The rhythm of my heart is beating like a drum
with the words “I love you” rolling off my tongue
Never will I roam for I know my place is home
where the ocean meets the sky
I’ll be sailing

© 1986 Traditional;  & John Capek, Marc Jordan

Day #2 On the CBD Oil !!

The neck pain is absolutely gone. Yay.  And I’m not quite as “relaxed” as I was yesterday morning, but I am still very relaxed and in an incredibly great mood. So we’ll just see how it progresses.

Anything to stay off of Advil and Tylenol.

The best news of all, though, is that we FINALLY have the cover art fixed for The Guitar Hero Goes Home, and the formatting is also fixed. So that didn’t take too long, right? Just a couple of fucking months.

But I am just so happy, gang. Even though the eBook has been fine from the beginning, I am finally feeling like the “book” is actually done. Another “baby” alive in the world for me. To live indefinitely. I never get tired of that feeling.

The first time I went from being published in underground zines, to being published in an actual book,  was when I sold the story “The Birthday Party” to Masquerade for an anthology called The Unmade Bed (1997):

 

9780739406519: THE UNMADE BED Twentieth Century Erotica

And I was so excited.  What an incredible thrill. And it wasn’t my best story — it was really tame compared to what I normally write — but it did seem to be popular, and it went on to get published a few more times over the years. But I can’t remember where. I know Alyson Tyler published it in The Happy Birthday Book of Erotica, or something like that. And it’s in one of the Muse Revisited collections.

(I’m a really great sales person, aren’t I? “It’s out there somewhere, all you have to do is find it. Let me know how it goes.”)

When my first book came out, (Neptune & Surf, also from Masquerade), I was over the moon!!  And since for whatever reason, Wayne (my husband at the time) wasn’t willing to celebrate with me, I went out for drinks with Christy Cassidy and Nan Kinny — and Nan was one of my absolute heroes, a true role model for me. I just loved her. (She’s not dead, they just moved away and I haven’t seen either of them in ages.) Nan was one of the founders of the legendary On Our Backs magazine, the first hardcore dyke BDSM porn magazine. It was out of San Francisco. And I just worshiped her and what she had accomplished with that magazine.

ON OUR BACKS; Entertainment for the Adventurous Lesbian Vol. 11, No. 01,  January/February 1995: (1995) | Alta-Glamour Inc.

Anyway, Christy and Nan were both really happy for me. And it was the very best feeling, having a book come out. And I never get tired of the feeling, gang. I absolutely never do.

Although, one thing I will say is that, usually, no one celebrates with me. The only people who are excited for me are people who are colleagues in some way — in the industry. “Regular” people — friends and family –always distance themselves from my books. Even people that I’m very close to — friends/lovers who might have stories or whole books dedicated to them, or serve as the inspiration for some of my early stories. No one wants to be publicly connected to what I write. Which makes me  sad, but I’ve gotten used to it. And I find ways to celebrate on my own. So this is how I celebrated last night!! (We’re drinking CBD tea!!) (Just kidding…)

80 Best Antique /Vintage Child's Tea Sets images in 2020 | kids tea set,  vintage children, childrens tea sets

Okay!!

So. I’m going to get started here. It is a really lovely fall day here in Crazeysburg. I hope it’s equally lovely wherever you are in the world today! Thanks for visiting. I’m leaving you with two things — the same song, but two different titles, and two different singers. “Weeping Annaleah” by Tom Jones, and “Sleeping Annaleah” by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds. (A song written by the great Mickey Newbury and Dan Folger.)  Contrast and compare!! And enjoy. All righty. Have a great day, wherever you are!  I love you guys. See ya.

Goodness Gracious!

Yesterday, I was having some minor pain issues in my neck and that hip joint again, so rather than take Tylenol or Advil, which I hate to take, I decided to try CBD oil for the first time.

Well, it actually works just fine as a pain medication but, man, does it relax me.  (Translation: I don’t feel like doing a fucking thing!)

I’m not sure if I’ll take it again, or not. I guess we’ll just wait until I get more pain issues, since it does indeed work for pain. But me feeling truly relaxed is not a sight that is often seen…

So I got nothing done on the new erotic short story yesterday (“Novitiate”). I hope today will yield even a tiny bit more than that! We shall see.( I’m still feeling rather relaxed and I took the CBD oil yesterday.)

I did get a sample of what the postcard announcing the reading of  my play is going to look like, though. It’s different from the other image I posted recently (I see there is a typo, so ignore that):

The “New Heritage” group is the Harlem production company. So I’m excited, gang!!

And I also found this exciting, although it has nothing to do with me. The discovery of a 2000-year-old mikveh (Jewish ritual bath) in the Lower Galilee — this is from the Second Temple Period in Israel, the time of Jesus. And of course the Galilee was the area Jesus practiced in. You can read the details of the excavation by the Israel Antiquities Authority here. The mikveh is in the lower right hand corner. It was found on the property of a 2000-year-old farm.

The farm with the ritual bath (lower right). Okay, well, there is absolutely nothing else going on here right now because I am sort of in la-la land.  I’m hoping this will change at any moment!!

Meanwhile, I’ll close this and drink some more coffee and stare.

I hope you have a terrific Tuesday, whatever you’re doing and wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting!! I leave you with a song I was thinking about here this morning. I’ve posted it on the blog before, but here it is again. Sometimes I take this song really personally:  “Waiting for You” from the Ghosteen album by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds (2019). Lyrics are in the video. So listen (and read along) and enjoy!! I love you guys. See ya.

I Actually Have Nothing to Say!

I spent the entire day yesterday at my desk, working on “Novitiate” — the new erotic short story — and so nothing new has occurred since I blogged here yesterday morning.

I did not even have time to watch the rest of the Ronnie Wood documentary, Somebody Up There Likes Me (and if I don’t get to it here soon, I will miss my window and won’t be able to watch it without paying for it again).

I was writing clear through last night, right up until it was time to do yoga and then collapse in bed.

I’m only at 6000 words in the new story, but I’m finding that I have to keep going over and over and over these first 7 pages, because after that, it’s going to become extremely complicated. (It goes from 2 primary characters up to 15, and all of them are having sex at one point or another, so that’s gonna get kind of complicated.) So those first 7 pages have to lay some sort of believable groundwork for the remaining insanity.

I’m still really loving the story, though. And I am learning more about it  every moment that I work on it — meaning, it reveals itself to me, more and more, as I continue to streamline these first few pages. I’m finding it so interesting. And so different from what I thought it was first trying to be.

I think I mentioned a few days ago that now the editors don’t really want “Half-Moon Bride” in this story collection. They want to offer it as a stand-alone short story (eBook only). I will let them make the final decision. But the more I work on “Novitiate,” the more I think that “Half-Moon Bride” doesn’t really fit with the other stories that will be in this collection.  So perhaps it is best sold on its own.

Other than that microscopic world of mine…

The petunias are still blooming. It’s amazing. 5 months now, and no end in sight. I’m guessing they will keep right on blooming up until the first frost. But it is so weird to see the porches of all my neighbors and all that autumnal stuff going on there, for as far as the eye can see. And even though I cleared off my front porch and my back stoop, my kitchen porch is still a riot of blooming colors because I concentrated all the flower boxes there. And I really feel like I’m in some sort of time warp here — or “season” warp. (And, God knows, that in my mind, I’m always thinking it’s still summer, so it doesn’t help when everything in and around my house only encourages my misinterpretation  of the entire world.)

I can’t emphasize enough how different my life got when I moved into this house (going on 3 years now). It’s all good, but it’s all strange. I really, really do love living here, I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life,  but my life has gotten more and more dissociated. And even though I’m sort of accustomed to being in a dissociated mental state (for a variety of reasons), when my house starts joining me in that, it gets really difficult to explain.

You know, when I first walked through this house, I felt so much happiness in every room. I really did. And I just knew that people had been really happy here. (The house is now 119 years old — when it was first built, there was no electricity, no central heat, and no running water. Two bathrooms were eventually added on, many decades apart. And the well outside was covered up, and the fireplaces that were in every room were eventually covered up.) I still believe that people were happy here — and I still believe really strongly that at least one spirit connected to building this house is actively around here.

But I was reading recently, in a metaphysical type book, that what we perceive about a place is our own future happiness. We are perceiving the happiness of our future selves. Which I think could be true, too. I’m certainly incredibly happy here. But I do think it’s a bit of both.

Anyway, that said. Come visit!! I need help cleaning out the barn…

All righty. I’m going to get moving here. Maybe watch the rest of the Ronnie Wood documentary. Or maybe work on the new story, or maybe sit and stare and drink my coffee for a while. We shall see. (Smart money is on the latter, I think.)

Thanks for visiting, gang. I hope you have a great Monday unfolding before you, wherever you are in the world. I’m still in a More of the Monkees frame of mind around here, so I leave you with another great song off that album, one that still brought tears to my eyes this morning, even 53 years later… “Sometime in the Morning” (1967). Listen, relax, ponder, and enjoy. I love you guys, See ya!

Wow! What A Difference Not Eating Broccoli Makes!!

First of all, I’m in a much better mood today, gang — like, 1000%.

Part of it was that I wasn’t actually feeling so great yesterday. (In addition to the emotional weirdness brought on by the chairs — see yesterday’s post, if you so desire. Otherwise — onward; don’t look back!!)

I take a lot of digestive enzyme supplements and probiotics  in order to be able to digest broccoli. I don’t actually like broccoli, but I have noticed an amazing difference in how my brain focuses after eating broccoli, so for YEARS, I have tried to eat broccoli (blanched) at least once a day. But I can’t digest it.

Well, then I noticed that none of the digestive enzyme-type things were actually helping — and in fact, some new ones I was taking seemed to be making matters worse.  I was in abdominal pain for about 24 hours. And then, finally, yesterday, it occurred to me to just stop eating broccoli. So I didn’t eat it. And without eating broccoli, I no longer needed all the extra enzyme stuff to try to digest it.

And today, I feel 100% fine.

Can you believe it took me that long to figure out that I should just stop eating broccoli??? It is so weird, the things we force ourselves to believe sometimes — i.e., broccoli is good for me so I need to eat it.

Anyway. Even though I felt truly horrible all day yesterday, I did get some great work done on the new erotic short story, “Novitiate,” so I’m hoping that today will be the same.

It’s turning out to be a very interesting story — it’s taking on a shape and tone that I hadn’t really expected at first. So my decision to get out of the story’s way, and stop being an emotional roadblock to it, turned out to be a really good idea.

I tell you, gang — stories really do know how to tell themselves if we can get out of their ways and just write.

I’m also finding that The Monkees’ records make a terrific soundtrack for writing “Novitiate” by — the story takes place in the summer of 1966, on the cusp of Free Love and those kinds of ideas. And for me, those old Monkees’ records have the perfect sound for that era, since I listened to those records a lot from 1966-1968.  I’m finding that the second album, specifically — More of the Monkees — just lets the whole story open up in my head. (More of the Monkees is actually a really, really great album. It was recorded in 1966 and then released in January 1967. It’s the album that has their fantastic version of Neil Diamond’s “I’m A Believer” on it.)

The Monkees -- More Of The Monkees (1967) Full Album | The monkees, Rock  album covers, Album covers

So I am once again in a really good place.

I did get a chance to listen to the first piece off the upcoming Nick Cave – Nicholas Lens collaboration, L.I.T.A.N.I.E.S (due in December). The piece is titled “Litany of The Forsaken.” It’s quite hypnotic, although I’m not 100% sure, yet, what it’s about.

Nick Cave and Nicholas Lens Collaborate on New Opera L.I.T.A.N.I.E.S |  Pitchfork

I also rented the new documentary film on Ronnie Wood, the Mike Figgis-directed  Somebody Up There Like’s Me.

Somebody Up There Likes Me - The Fellowship and Star

I watched about 20 wonderful minutes of it last evening, when suddenly the buffering would not cease. I’m guessing thousands of people all over the place were streaming it at once. (Saturday night, 8pm.) So I’m going to try to watch the rest of it at a less popular movie-streaming time. I was really enjoying it, so, that on top of not feeling well sort of sucked.

But ever onward we go, right?

Okay. So, I’m gonna get started here. I hope your Sunday is shaping up to be a really great one, wherever you are in the world!! I’m leaving you with my breakfast-listening music from this morning, “Mary Mary” from  More of the Monkees. It was actually written by Mike Nesmith in 1966 — he was one of the Monkees. It’s a great song, guys. So turn it up! Listen and try not to dance!!!! (Full disclosure: I was dancing all over the kitchen this morning at 5am, in my PJs, while listening to this and feeding the cats!!) All righty. Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya.

In Honor of World Mental Health Day, I Guess

My mood is totally tanking around here.

I awoke in a reasonably good mental space. Not 100% sure why it’s tanking — and tanking so rapidly. But I think it has something to do with the  2 chairs I acquired yesterday.

This is not one of the chairs but they look exactly like this:

Antique Ladder Back Chair with Rush Seat | Antique ladder, Ladder back  chairs, Chair

I love ladder back chairs, and the 2 that I got yesterday are really old and really well made.

They came from that little house across Basin Street from me. The son was getting rid of what little was left in the house, and I was, like,  “You’re kidding! Two extremely well-made chairs that I love, just for free? Just like that?”

And of course, I was also thinking: What a relief. You can never have enough chairs for the dining room, once you put the leaf in the table. You always need extra chairs.

And I was really just so happy to have these chairs. And I put them in the dining room, against the wall, and I was just really happy. They are so well-made.

And then this morning, it was that thing that happens to me all the time — where I realize that the world in my head has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the life I actually live nowadays. I don’t need more chairs. No one ever comes to visit me. I never have dinner parties anymore. And it has nothing to do with COVID, either.  On those rare times when my birth mom comes here, or my sister comes over, we always sit at the kitchen table. Other than that, no one ever comes over and the other rooms in my house are occupied only by cats. (The cats have not said, yet, whether or not they like the new chairs.)

Anyway, I guess that sort of started me on a little downward spiral. Not so  much the idea that I don’t entertain anymore (or even cook), but the idea that the world in my head is so different from the world I’m actually living in, in the physical.  Even though I know this has been happening to me — I’d even say “increasingly” — since moving into this house, sometimes it really just jolts me. The old life is gone. Even though the life I have now is the one I actually love, the old life is gone and probably isn’t coming back.

It’s just a weird feeling.

I must add here that the latest virus stats were released for this area yesterday, and the county where I do all my marketing had a slight resurgence — 177 active cases (this is still really good compared to where it was at all summer). But here in Muskingum County, we have only 99 active cases, and here in the zip code area where I live (a zip code is an area serviced by one specific post office), we have zero active cases. Yay!! And Muskingum County has still only had 3 deaths from the virus since the outbreak. (This compares to 166,000 currently active cases of the virus in the entire State of Ohio, and a total of 5000 deaths, overall.)

So, you know, this weird world I live in in my head, where everything is just really beautiful all the time, is compounded by the fact that Muskingum County exists in some sort of make-believe place, too.

The whole thing is just really weird.

I don’t suppose there is any real harm, at this point, in living 2 parallel lives that will never meet: the one in my head, and the physical one that I “live.” And I don’t suppose there’s any real harm in the fact that I seem to be regressing way past 12, to about 7 or 8 years old now — judging strictly by my current daily/nightly interests in life (see a post from a few days ago).  (BTW, I am finally remembering to do yoga at night now, but I only do it while I’m streaming reruns of The Monkees.)

The main thing that really sticks out in all this is, of course, my really grown-up car.

In the past few days, I have gotten several very nice compliments about my car. (The molten lava -colored Honda Civic that still looks brand-new but is in fact a year old now. Like me, the car is curiously not aging.) Even though I accept the compliments about my car graciously, it was foisted upon me by the Honda dealership. Plus, I think that St. Christopher (to whom I actively pray whenever I get into any moving vehicle), had some sort of hand in getting me that car because he probably thought it was dangerous enough to have a 12-to-7 year-old girl out driving, she should at least have a safe car (that is sparkly red and goes really fast).

Anyway, it all adds up to me just feeling really crazy;  as if “reality” and “me” do not seem to ever intertwine anymore. And, actually, maybe we never did.

It gets a little depressing.  I’m making sort of a joke about it here on the blog, but I am starting to find it a little alarming in my non-blog life. That said, though, life does indeed go on.

I’m planning to spend the entire day at my desk working on the new erotic short story, “Novitiate.” Try to move that forward because, so far, I’m not making the progress on it that I would like to make.  I still find that I’m battling myself a little bit in how to put this story onto the page. Not so much censoring myself, as trying to determine if where the story keeps wanting to go makes any real sense.  And rather than trusting in the process of the story’s innate knowing of itself, I have decided to become some sort of roadblock to that unfolding.

And I really wish I would stop doing that. I am hoping today will be the Big Day where I can get out of the story’s way.

(I guess that being a roadblock to anything can also be a source of depression.)

So I’m hoping that today will be a day for moving on. If we were to judge it solely by how I’m feeling right now, well — it’s not looking too promising but the day is young!

Okay. Yesterday, Nick Cave sent out a Red Hand File that was really moving. You can read it here. And the Nick Cave Instagram site released an announcement that a collaborative album he made with the Belgian composer, Nicholas Lens — titled L.I.T.A.N.I.E.S — will be released in early December, and one piece from it has already dropped: “Litany of the Forsaken.”

(And do yourself an enormous favor, if you go searching for the album on Amazon, remove all those periods between each letter, otherwise you will make yourself fucking insane and never find it.)

Okay!!! On that happy note…

I’m outta here. I hope you have a better Saturday underway, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang!! Today, I leave you with my anthem — okay, maybe not my actual anthem. I don’t think I really have one. But it will probably be played at my funeral, or at the very least, my wake. I’m sort of a “medium” U2 fan. I have several of their albums. But I’m not, like, a huge fan.  But I do love this song — it’s probably my favorite of theirs: “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” (1987, off The Joshua Tree). So I leave you with that. Enjoy. Lyrics are in the video. I love you guys. See ya.