…These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep.

But on another note…

Fellow blogger William, in Australia, informed me during the night that the photo I posted of Nick Cave yesterday is from the otherwise black & white film, One More Time With Feeling. (An intensely beautiful film, btw.)

(I won’t explain why I was looking at blog comments at 3:15am. I’m sure it was probably daytime where he was. Actually, I have no clue what time it was for him, since I have no mental faculties whatsoever for figuring out what time or day or season it is in Australia, ever. But he was awake, because he replied to my reply…)

Anyway. I still have no recollection of what I was reading when I saw the photo of Nick Cave yesterday. Some sort of online newspaper thing. Clearly, it was riveting and memorable…

Regarding my diagram of the play that I posted yesterday afternoon… No! The ghost of Elvis does not appear in my play. Helen LaFrance’s first (& second) husband was named Elvis Linn. She married & divorced him twice. Then he died. And he’s the ghost that appears in my play.

Lots of ghosts in my play. And trains. (Well, just one ever-oncoming train, really — and the train is also a ghost.)

Okay.

Well, I am exhausted, gang. It was one of those mornings where I slept too long — it was 7am when I finally got out of bed. (For me, 7am is usually when I’m sitting down at my desk to write.)  It was a stunning morning, but I was so exhausted that I just wanted to cry. (I didn’t, but I wanted to.)

You know, just once, I wish someone would being me a cup of coffee while I’m still in bed. Just once. Just that.

Well, and feed the cats for me. And vacuum my house. And dust it. And clean the upstairs bathtub, too.

Remember Neil Young’s song from Harvest – “A Man Needs A Maid”? Well, guess what? A gal over here in Crazeysburg needs one, too. For all the same reasons, it turns out, 47 years later.

(Talk about riveting and memorable — Harvest is such a great album. If you’re too young to know it, you should find it somewhere and play it. I’m guessing it’s one of those things you can hear for free, somewhere.) (You can hear it for free in my house, because I own it.) (Subtle hint: buy music, gang!)

All right. Well the morning is almost gone, so I should get going around here.  (I did manage to wash my hair already, so that’s, you know, an astounding achievement over here.) But I need to get to work on the play.

And it isn’t so much the play that’s exhausting me. It’s just an emotional thing, you know? I’m getting emotional. All around me, I see people strapping kayaks to their trucks and heading off for vacations. And I wonder what the fuck is the matter with me? I never go on a vacation. Ever. I travel. But I’m always working when I travel.

My friend Kara wants to go away for a day & a night, to one of those cabins down by the caves. And “get away from it all” and just chill.

And, actually, I really want to do this because I love the idea of just going away for a day & a night in a cabin and just talking with Kara, because she is on the most amazing planet. I seriously love visiting it.

But this idea of going off to the middle of quiet nowhere, to get away from it all — I live that every single gosh darn day. I mean, I have a (really, really old) house, not a cabin. But otherwise, gang. I am in the middle of quiet, peaceful, beautiful nowhere, and I think I still manage to work harder/longer hours than anyone I personally know.

I think the key is “having someone to talk to.” I talk to the cats, of course. They don’t actually ignore me. What they do is sort of look at me with those pained expressions, as if they’re thinking: oh no, she’s making those sounds in our direction again. I hope she doesn’t try to touch us or anything.

So, conversations with my cats are less than rewarding, always.  But it just seems that right now, at this juncture in my life, I have so much writing that wants to come out (I would even say, needs to come out). And if I had one of those “relationships” that you so often see people undertaking, I would only make the other person insane and they would make me insane, because they would want to talk to me or something intense like that. And then I would destroy the relationship because I can’t talk right now, I need to write…

Well, that’s it in a nutshell (or a “nuthouse” if you want to take in the full scope of my entire existence .)

I’m gonna scoot now, and get back at it. The play, that is. Revising it for the 17 millionth time…

So. Thanks for visiting! Have a really fun Sunday, wherever are you and whatever you’re doing! I love you guys. See ya.

 

“A Man Needs A Maid”

My life is changing in so many ways
I don’t know who to trust anymore
There’s a shadow running through my days
Like a beggar going from door to door.

I was thinking that maybe I’d get a maid
Find a place nearby for her to stay.
Just someone to keep my house clean,
Fix my meals and go away.

A maid.
A man needs a maid.
A maid.

It’s hard to make that change
When life and love turn strange
And cold.

To give a love, you gotta live a love.
To live a love, you gotta be “part of”.

When will I see you again?

A while ago somewhere, I don’t know when
I was watching a movie with a friend.
I fell in love with the actress.
She was playing a part that I could understand.

A maid.
A man needs a maid.
A maid.
A man needs a maid.

When will I see you again?