So today marks the 39th anniversary of John Lennon’s murder. I won’t say that it feels like yesterday, because it does indeed feel like forever ago, but the day is still vividly clear in my memory.
Up until then, any of the well-known people who’d been killed in my lifetime were political figures in some way. Lennon was, for me, the first cultural icon that was murdered and he was one of my absolute heroes.
To be honest, I look back on my girlhood and I’m not entirely sure why he mattered so much to me, but he did. I think because he was always someone who struggled with existential truths and seemed to be brutally honest about it.
I know that right when I first moved to NYC, his new album, DoubleFantasy, came out and it was really such a great album. I was so excited. And it was such a NYC type of album, too, and so I was doubly excited to finally be living in New York. I lived there 3 weeks and then he got murdered. I’ll just say that the word “devastated” doesn’t come close to describing the shock and grief I felt.
I don’t really want to go into all the details from back then, or the memories I have of those first few weeks in NYC because they were momentous on too many levels — meeting Nick the Mafia hit man guy, getting pregnant by him. Having to get away from him. Lennon getting killed. Meeting the man who became my first husband. All of that stuff happened literally within a few weeks of moving to NYC when I was 20.
So I really don’t want to think too much about any of that stuff today. My life is in such a good place right now, I really don’t want to look back. I’ll never forget this date on the calendar, but the details— I don’t know; I don’t want to dwell on it.
Well, on a much brighter note — even though you’re seriously not supposed to do it, someone posted some footage on Instagram today of Nick Cave and Warren Ellis’s event with the symphony in Sydney, Australia from last night and it looks like it was just stunning. Just from what little I saw on Instagram. Wow, gang. I really wish I could have been there. I think there are 2 more shows for Monday (which I think is already today over in Australia). I just— well, I don’t know. I just wish I could have gone. It looks like it was so beautiful.
There was something else on Instagram— not positive if I read it right, but it seems that Nick Cave was the Artist of the Decade on Spotify. Yes, that same music platform that I can never get to work correctly, so clearly, this Nick Cave development had nothing to do with me!!! But if it’s indeed true, I think that is just so fucking cool!!
Okay, one other exciting though wildly unrelated thing: I went to fill my gas tank this morning because I know that once my mom gets here tomorrow, I’m gonna have to drive with her to a couple of places in town, and the gas was only $2.39 a gallon!!! I thought that was amazingly awesome!! I don’t remember the last time it was that cheap. Several years, for sure.
So sometime around noon tomorrow, my sister will be dropping off my mom and I’m so excited. My sister texted earlier to say that my mom was really excited about seeing me and that just makes me feel so great. You have no idea.
I guess that’s it for now. I imagine that over the next 3 days while my mom is visiting, my blog posts will he brief. Hope you have a great Sunday, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting. I leave you with the song that was just barely becoming a hit when Lennon was murdered. I still think it’s just a wonderful, upbeat song. Okay. I love you guys! See ya!
I hate to get too tedious about the cats, since I am not normally a “cat blogger.” However…
I was lying in bed this morning, remembering how, when Daddycakes was still alive, a lot of the cats would jump up on my bed with him in the morning and walk all over me — as long as I was under the blankets, I mean. They wouldn’t come near me if I wasn’t. But I was thinking this morning how much I really missed that. Just even that small physical contact with the cats.
Not that I don’t appreciate this new development with Huckleberry and Doris in the bathroom in the mornings now — and this morning, they even came in after the sun had actually come up. This is a huge change — allowing me to pet them in the daylight.
But, anyway. Yesterday, a man I know just really casually — we had had lunch together a couple of times a couple of years ago. The only thing we really had in common is that we grew up in Cleveland in the same era. But he was a heavy drinker, smoker, and a meat eater. And even though I never, ever push my eating/smoking/drinking preferences on anyone else — honestly, you can do whatever you want to do, even in my house. But it probably means we won’t really spend a whole lot of time together. So that’s what happened there. I think he found me a little intimidating, actually. But I saw him yesterday — really briefly. It was so nice. And my main point is that he very lightly touched my back, just this friendly sort of gesture of “hello, I remember you” and it felt so incredible and I realized that it’s getting to be a really long time since anybody touched me — including the cats.
So this morning, I was thinking about how the cats never jump up on my bed anymore and how much I miss that — little cat feet walking all over me in the morning. And then absolutely that quickly, suddenly Huckleberry and Doris jumped up on the bed with me. And they did that thing where they knead you with their paws — Doris always loved kneading my thigh and she immediately started doing that again! They were on the bed with me for several minutes. And then Francis — the meanest cat in the world — came into the room and was staring up at us. She never comes into the bedroom while I’m in the room, ever. And yet she stood there and watched us for a little while.
I could not believe any of this. It’s been 7 months since Daddycakes died. It feels like forever. Needless to say, it made me feel really happy to finally have this cat-interaction again.
And, oddly, the guy I had last gotten seriously involved with, about 3 years ago — when I was planning to move back to New York and buy a house in Rhinebeck (where he lives — oddly, he lives about 5 minutes from Sandra but I knew him from NYC), but I ended up in the wilds of Muskingum County instead, bought a strange old house and became indescribably happy. Anyway, that guy emailed me over the weekend. That felt very strange. Not bad, but more like — wait; what?
I guess it’s just one of those junctures. Everyone’s sort of revisiting their old energy — including the cats.
Then, as the sun came up this morning — after I was done meditating and doing my Inner Being journal-thing — I was looking at the grey sky and an old Paul Simon song came suddenly to my mind: “I Do It For Your Love,” from his 1975 album, Still Crazy After All These Years. And the song brought to mind both of my wedding days and how odd it was that on both of those days, the weather simply could not have been more beautiful. (April 9, 1981, and then May 1, 1993.) And then it brought to mind how the weather is no real indicator of how a marriage is going to go. And I thought about all the various men who have wanted to marry me in my lifetime, starting from when I was 17, and how I was just the kind of girl who never wanted to get married. And yet when I did — both times, well, they were just so odd.
Both wedding nights, for various reasons, go down as two of the worst nights of my life. That feeling of lying there and staring up at the ceiling in the dark and thinking: Jesus, it’s legal now; what was I thinking? Then feeling resigned to making the best of it. And both of those particular marriage proposals couldn’t have been more strange. And yet they were the ones I accepted. (The other guys were so much more passionate — “come on, I love you, I want to have a kid with you” and that kind of beautiful thing. But I always saw ownership in that arrangement and that’s one way to make me bolt the stall in a huge hurry.) Plus, I also wound up marrying two Geminis (Geminis have that “twin” thing going on.). And for me, both times, I didn’t find the twin until after the wedding.
Just so strange that all I had to do was look out the window at the grey sky, then be reminded of an old Paul Simon song, and my mind was just off and running like that. I’m not anti-marriage at all, I just don’t really understand the point of it if real estate and children aren’t involved. It’s just such an intensely binding legal arrangement.
Anyway, I thought this would be of interest! Marriage-related photos!! The first is actually a photo of the playwright Christopher Demos Brown, but in the background — the sort of striped brick high-rise: that’s the Camelot Building, on the corner of 8th Avenue and W.45th Street. And that’s where I lived with my first husband when we were married.
And below — you kind of have to look closely here — this is West End Avenue, on New York City’s Upper West Side. If you look in the center of the photo and see a dark red chimney-type thing on top of one of those tall buildings — the apartment building directly next to it, the much smaller one with a white roof (it’s only 12 stories), that’s where I lived when I was married to Wayne, on the 10th floor. He still lives there. You can’t tell from this photo, but outside of our bedroom window and our bathroom window, we had a clear view of the Hudson River and Riverside Park.
And of course, this is what it looks like where I am now — not married at all. This was the full moon this past September, over my barn.
Well, I’m just in a really strange headspace today, huh? Not a bad one; just sort of contemplative.
And I thought about that Paul Simon song, and just how long it’s been since I even thought about it. I loved that album, but the song wasn’t especially a favorite or anything. I do recall listening to it at age 15, and thinking that I didn’t really ever want to get married. And then I thought about who I am now, today, and I thought of that girl I was then. I was fresh from the mental hospital, for one thing. I was in such a bad way. I basically lived alone with my adoptive mother — my brother was almost never home back then and then he moved out for good less than 2 years afterward. But I lived in terror of that woman. Just day in, day out, anxiety, fear, suicidal depression and awfulness. I never ever knew what horrible shit she was going to throw my way next. I tried so hard to make myself just disappear back then.
This morning, remembering all that, I just wanted to let go of the past — forget it completely. But then I didn’t want to just abandon that girl who was still back there, listening to her records in her room, you know? I knew she had a whole lot of really bad shit still up ahead of her, and I didn’t want to just leave her stranded in it.
I’m just not sure how reality works in that regard. If you let go of the past, are you letting go of something deep inside yourself that still needs you, or is that just an illusion of some kind? I don’t really have a clue.
Well, okay. The director’s comments will not arrive until tonight. So today I’m going to work some more on “Hymn to the Dark.” (Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse.) I hope you have a really good, thought-filled Monday, wherever you are in the world.
I’m guessing you know what I’m leaving you with today! Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya.
“I Do It For Your Love”
We were married on a rainy day
The sky was yellow
And the grass was gray
We signed the papers
And we drove away
I do it for your love
The rooms were musty
And the pipes were old
All that winter we shared a cold
Drank all the orange juice
That we could hold
I do it for your love
Found a rug
In an old junk shop
And brought it home to you
Along the way the colors ran
The orange bled the blue
The sting of reason
The splash of tears
The northern and the southern
And it disappears
I do it for your love
I do it for your love
Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds sent out an email this morning listing the upcoming listening events for the new album, Ghosteen, and apparently they accidentally left Crazeysurg off that list and so now I have no idea where I’m supposed to go! It looks like maybe Belgium is my closest option.
I am really, really tired of the lousy air quality in NYC and cannot wait to get back to Rhinebeck this afternoon. My throat is, like, raw.
While the audience at Town Hall last night was really fun and enthusiastic, they were the most fidgety bunch of people I’ve ever been anywhere near. First of all, at least half of the balcony arrived “late” — and I put that in quotes because they weren’t late, they were out in the upstairs lobby drinking and ignoring the flashing lights. So about 700 million of them came in and tried to find their seats after the Conversation had already started. And then I have never seen so many grown up people get up & down and go in & out— going for more drinks, going to the use the bathroom, etc. I really just wanted to smack all of them throughout the entire show.
The man in front of me — who arrived late and then left early to catch his train out of Grand Central— was really tall and it was a constant challenge for me to see around his head until he left (early) but then 10 minutes later, the show was over.
I have never seen so many people get up and go catch the last train out of Grand Central at the very same time as I saw last night (meaning: 10 minutes before the show ended).
Overall, while indeed enthusiastic, the audience last night drove me a little nuts.
Other than that, though, the Conversation itself was great. Very different energy from Lincoln Center, yet both were somehow equally great. And even though I was in that balcony with all those fidgety, constantly moving people, I still had a really cool view— dead center. I could see everything easily— except for having to contend with that tall guy in front of me.
I still think it’s better than being on the main floor if you aren’t seated right up in front. And even though Nick Cave himself seemed to be in a different headspace last night as compared to Lincoln Center — where he was sort of more subdued or something— Town Hall is now just a really sucky place to be in the audience after experiencing that specific theater at Lincoln Center, which was just incredible.
Okay, so I’m gonna get a Lyft here in about an hour and try to get through the insane Midtown traffic in time to catch my train out of Penn Station at 10:20am. Sandra is taking a later train but, truthfully, I just can’t get out of here quick enough. I just feel like I need some decent air.
I did spend a few hours with Valerie yesterday afternoon and that was really nice. I have had a ton of quiet time during my stay here in the city, so it was just so great to spend some time with someone who knows me so well, who laughs a lot, and who is such a huge part of the “old” New York. That old vibe— meaning, not militantly-politically correct. And Valerie is a really tall, butch dyke who drinks and smokes and is extremely liberal and has been for 60 years, and yet she, too, has to contend with the constant onslaught of the intolerant zealously-politically-correct hordes. It gets so tiring.
I’m not sure if I prefer the Mongol hordes to this current horde of zealously PC liberals or not. I have to give it some thought. I’ll get back to you.
After lunch, we hung out on the stoop so that she could smoke and we did indeed discuss Mick Jagger’s weird inability to age— how it was sort of spooky. (And I wasn’t the one who brought up this topic, either, so clearly, I am not the only person who’s kind of creeped out by him nowadays.) But I did fess up to my recent discovery that, like Mick Jagger, I, too, prefer the idea of having sex with much younger women over having sex with 70-year-old women, and so I can’t really call that particular kettle black anymore.
And, of course, she concurred. Which, in itself, is kind of weird because we were lovers for 20 years, and now I guess we’re agreeing that even we are too old to seem like an appealing sex option to each other.
(I’m sort of just kidding. However, under our breath, so as not to be overheard by the PC militant zealots scurrying around us, we agreed that when it came to girls, we liked them “really young.”)
Wednesday, I make that drive back to Ohio and I’m not 100% psyched for that trip yet, but I’m looking forward to spending the rest of the day and evening in Rhinebeck and I guess spending some more time discussing the theater projects with Sandra in person.
Sandra works a lot, mostly in television in Canada, and it can be really hard to get her complete attention (or to even get her to reply to a text) when she’s working. So I need to get as much out of her as I can whenever she’s directly in front of me.
That said, though, I’m still not ready to tackle the next round of rewrites on the play. I can tell that all of it is gestating inside me, so I’m not concerned. I just know that I’m not quite ready. I know I will be once I’m back at my own desk, with my Muse suffusing my entire room. Although, Peitor texted, wanting to know when we can get back on schedule with the micro-scripts. So I guess I’m getting ready to be really busy again.
Well, needless to say, but I’ll say it anyway, it has been so great to be able to see Nick Cave in the Conversation environment— twice. It really was just the best time and I’m feeling a little misty over having to move on. But on we must all move. Who knows when I will ever see him again in that specific, focused way. But it was just so wonderful. I just love him so much. And last evening— I can’t recall which song it was that he was singing; maybe “Love Letter,” maybe “Shivers,” — but for several fleeting moments, I saw the young Nick Cave coming through in his face, his expression. It was really interesting. Beautiful, I guess.
And now I must open the Lyft app and get that underway. Have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!
I was just sitting down to do the blog and I checked my email, and what to my wondering eyes should appear? A Red Hand Files newsletter (two, actually) announcing a new double album from Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds coming next week.
It sounds like it is going to be sort of intense. As if SkeletonTree wasn’t difficult enough for me to listen to. Of course, it’s worth the emotional payoff. In spades, but still. A tiny little voice, deep in the center of my mind is fearfully fretting: oh no, now what?!
Because I don’t ever just listen to Nick Cave; I react on every level.
It’s funny, during the night, I awoke and was thinking about the Conversation from Saturday night and when a guy in the balcony asked him when a new album would be coming out, Nick Cave didn’t reply to it. I can’t recall now if he literally did not reply or if he said something that was not a reply. Anyway, I was pondering that during the night; wondering why he didn’t reply. And now, voila. The real reply.
I was also thinking last night how interesting it is that the 2 songs I remember most from Saturday night were 2 songs that he didn’t write. I remember all of the songs, but just the 2 that stood out most for me emotionally were songs he didn’t write: CosmicDancer and Shivers.
I think that Shivers is such a beautiful song. It seems like it always bothered Rowland Howard a lot — how people responded to that song. I don’t think he wanted people to like it so much. He seems maybe to have written it from a perspective of ironic contempt and then people responded to the ironic beauty of it, instead. (Well, there’s irony for you!) I personally think it’s a song of truly timeless relevant beauty. I really do. I was wondering if Rowland Howard has a different perspective on it now from where he’s at. I’m guessing he does. I think that when we die, we immediately embrace and embody the love of everything beautiful that we created while we were physical, even if we were at odds with it and couldn’t see its beauty while we were alive.
Anyway, Nick Cave sang it so beautifully on Saturday night; it was spellbinding.
Last night, I looked it up on YouTube and there’s an extremely old live version of it. I don’t remember now if it was the Boys Next Door or the Birthday Party, but it was really cool to watch it.
There is something sort of cosmic in just that process. You know, on the one hand, experiencing the emotional beauty and intensity of hearing Nick Cave sing that song live right now, at his age now — a song of such precise teenage angst; and then holding a little phone in your hand and watching him sing it so differently but no less beautifully when he’s so young. Maybe close to 40 years ago — something like that.
Perhaps you can see that I had sort of a strange evening last night.
I was determined to just rest and not go out walking. It was hot out and of course teeming with people everywhere. Plus, I really was just exhausted. So I forced myself to stay in and go to bed early. And I probably really and truly did relax for the first time in a year. But I did find my thoughts going to strange places. Or unexpected places, is more accurate.
For instance, I listened to an old audio interview with Tom Petty from the late 80s, when FullMoonFever first came out. Back in the days when he only just barely tolerated interviewers and you can always hear his contempt for the person and the whole process bobbing just under the surface of everything he says. The guy asked him a question about perspectives in songwriting and Tom Petty replied re: using all three perspectives at various points— first, second, and third perspectives. And I found myself feeling a little surprised that he knew about terms like that! But you know — he was actually really smart. I’m not sure why I find it surprising that he could express concepts and stuff like that. How weird, right?
Ah well. It only made me start missing him a lot, so I stopped listening to it.
And then I was also thinking about certain streets from my past that are right around here. For instance, this street I’m staying on — W.53rd. MoMA is on this street, but a few avenues east. I used to work at MoMA a long, long time ago. In fact, that’s where I met Peitor and we became instant friends. It was an important time in my life— working at MoMA. Frank O’Hara is probably my most favorite poet. I first fell in love with him when I was 15. And so for me, working at MoMA was my way of trying to absorb his spirit, his essence. (He worked there as a curator when he wrote pretty much ALL of his best poems and when he died, he was still working there. Modern Art was a huge part of his emotional sensibilities.)
Anyway. I had nearly forgotten all about that. And then W.50th Street. I’ve walked across it numerous times this trip, and only last night recalled that I used to live on it —just around the corner from here — and that my song, “Breaking Glass,” was written about a relationship I was in while living there. My first husband proposed marriage to me in that apartment — one afternoon while he was visiting me.
And then on Saturday, on my way to that incredible meeting with the director re: my play, the Lyft driver drove passed E. 66th Street on 3rd Avenue and it was in an apartment on that very block of E.66th Street that my one and only baby was conceived.
I thought last night about how strange it was that I have always retained that. Not the actual apartment number. I would not recognize the building if I saw it again. I just always remember that it was on E.66th Street, between 3rd and 2nd Avenues. So sad.
Well, anyway. I must say that blogging on a phone is a wee bit annoying… this one-finger typing business.
Okay, so I’m gonna close this now. I’m gonna try to wash my hair before Valerie arrives. And then I will be indescribably eager to see Nick Cave in Conversation again tonight. I think it will be an entirely different experience from up in the balcony, though — even though, normally, I actually prefer the balcony at Town Hall. (Tonight, however, I think that I will not be preferring it.) (If only I were one of those people who felt really comfortable defying public convention; I would look to see which seats remain empty down on the main floor and go sit in one! But I’m just somebody who totally behaves in public and does not wish to draw undue attention to myself, ever!!)
All righty!! Have a great Monday, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya!
Lunch was great. Sandra was awake and up and about, so she hopped a Lyft and joined me & Wayne.
We went to the West Bank Cafe. I hadn’t been there in maybe 25 years— something like that. From before my marriage to Wayne. Back when I was having an extremely intense short-lived affair with a bass player who was engaged to be married. He mistakenly thought I was a dyke so he used to flirt with me rather recklessly. I guess I turned out to be not such a dyke…
Anyway, it turns out that— lo! — these many years later, Wayne is friendly with the owner there and he introduced me today as his wife!! It was weird. Both Sandra and I were, like — actually we didn’t know what to make of it. Right away, I said that I was his ex-wife, and then I felt kind of bad — you know, the blinding speed with which I clarified that. Like, you know, please don’t think for a fraction of a second that I’m married to this perfectly reasonable, well-groomed man sitting here or anything. I did feel kind of bad.
Yes, I did talk a little tiny bit at length about Nick Cave during lunch, but only because they FINALLY got around to asking me how the show was last night. Wayne, of course, knows at least some of Nick Cave’s music, so that was cool.
Now I am back in my room. I have been quite busy! I’ve taken about 30 naps; looked for photos of Nick Cave on Instagram— of which there were many; not just from the show last night but because it’s also his birthday today, so everyone’s posting his photo and wishing him a happy happy.
I also spoke at length on the phone to Valerie, even though I’m spending several hours with her tomorrow. Luckily, even after nearly 40 years, we still don’t run out of things to talk about.
I’m not sure I will make any progress on rewrites of the play today. I just want to lay in bed, drift in & out of sleep. Listen to all the crazy traffic outside.
Here is what it looks like directly across from my (extremely filthy) window at the Airbnb.
Outside the filthy Airbnb window. The no longer quite so hellish Hell’s Kitchen. 5 pm.
Okay! Have a terrific evening, wherever you are in the world, gang!! I love you guys!
Yes, Sandra and I have done nothing but discuss this theater stuff. To say that it’s weighing on me now is a slight understatement.
We’re taking the train into the city later this morning. Then I’m gonna check into my Airbnb. She’s going to drop her stuff off at her pied a terre. Then we go across town to meet with the director.
The front porch here is so inviting. It has wicker rocking chairs. I actually fell asleep for a few minutes while rocking yesterday in the sun, listening to the peace & quiet.
But then Sandra came out to the porch and we began discussing the play again, and my peace sort of fled me. She says, “ I want to hear what the director thinks, but I’m thinking we’re looking at a 2 million dollar budget for this play now.”
I just sort of looked at her.
I can’t really get my mind around that kind of a budget, but I’m inclined to believe her. The rewrites have been that drastic.
I can’t process it anymore. Of course, we’ll hear what the director is thinking about it, as well. But all I can do, really, is just focus on writing the best play I can and then not think one step beyond that. Just let life happen. Allow the Universe to work those miracles it is so famous for.
Several photos on Instagram this morning from Nick Cave’s Conversation in DC last night. Looks like it went splendidly!! I of course will not even be bringing my phone to Lincoln Center tonight. I never take photos of events even when I’m allowed to. I just sort of like to be present and not even think about my phone. Tonight’s show is where I have the really good seat — 4th row of the Orchestra, over to the left.
Even while I have collected photos and micro clips on Instagram of every single one of these Conversations since the tour started in Australia in January, I’m oddly feeling like I have no idea what to expect. The only thing I feel certain of is that the time will fly and I will wish that, instead, time would stop and it would go on forever.
Okay, so I wrote a new segment for In the Shadow of Narcissa yesterday. I think I still might tweak it a tiny bit. But you can find the segment at the link to the site that’s somewhere here in the blog. I’m on my phone now so I can’t really see the navigation. But the link is here somewhere.
Tomorrow, Sunday, I will likely spend the day in my room at the Airbnb working on rewrites of the play. Sandra and I might meet up with Wayne somewhere (my ex who is also a long time friend of Sandra’s). I’m not positive about that. I’m kind of keeping tomorrow open because Monday I’m sort of booked solid before the Conversation at Town Hall at 8pm, and I want to relax a little. I think. I guess we’ll see how it all pans out.
Okay. Yes, I’m in a bit of a weird mood, stemming from this colossal budget thing that I managed to create. No one but me seems at all disturbed by this so I’m trying to just let it go and chill, you know? I guess, like everything, we’ll just see.
I leave you with a shot of the quiet empty kitchen from just before I began to blog— when I grabbed another cup of coffee. I get up so early, as you know. Not a soul around here is awake until hours after I get up.
Thanks for visiting, gang!! Have a super Saturday, wherever you are in the world! I love you guys! See ya!
Three nights in a row now, I have slept really great. No anxiety at all, even though all my challenges remain the same and, now that I’m here in Rhinebeck, focusing on both plays with Sandra, new challenges are arising. But that sense that everything will unfold however it needs to unfold is really pronounced.
So I’m good.
I can’t believe that the Conversations with Nick Cave resume tonight in DC. It seems like it came so fucking fast. Then tomorrow night, I see him in the city— and then again on Monday.
I’m doing that thing again — dragging my feet, trying to slow it all down, because it will be over in a heartbeat and life will just go on!
No!! How can that be??
When Sandra asked me who I was seeing in the city, and I said “Nick Cave,” she said, “but who are you seeing on Monday then?”
”Oh, then who are you seeing at Lincoln Center?”
”Wait— you’re seeing that dude twice?”
“You must like him a lot.”
”Who is he?”
Aaaarrrggggh!!!! Oh well. Clearly not every American is oblivious to Nick Cave because all the Conversations are sold out…
Sandra and I had a long discussion last evening re: Tell My Bones and I went over the director’s notes with her, even though I haven’t done the rewrites yet. She was very insightful and enthusiastic. Today, we’re going to go over the whole play, scene by scene, which will likely help me facilitate the rewrites.
I’m feeling extremely good about everything because Sandra’s response to this new version is very, very encouraging.
I have a feeling I’ll be spending most of my time at the Airbnb writing. Both on Tell My Bones and on a new segment for In the Shadow of Narcissa. I’m planning to spend Monday with Valerie. But other than that, I think I’ll just be hanging out by myself, writing.
Yesterday, Sandra and I went and had lunch at this place I really like because it has great vegetarian options. And in there, I swear to you — I’m not lying about this — one of the guys who works there, who looked to be in his late teens, early 20s tops, came on to me!! I was completely taken aback by this because I was in one of those intense moods where I wasn’t even smiling. At first I thought maybe he was attracted to my Tom Petty tee shirt. But, no, it seemed that he was actually attracted to ME! And I was, like, WOW. Now that is interesting, right? It’s like they get younger and younger.
Is it because I’m getting more and more immature?!!
When I woke up this morning, at 5:45 am, my brain was reciting various odd stanzas from Whitman’s “I Sing the Body Electric.” I hadn’t thought of that poem in years. This is that area of the country, where he lived, roamed, thrived, wrote. Really, when you get to the East Coast you can feel the ghosts of all those sensibilities— writers and thinkers who settled here, drew in the Nature that was all around here back then, and then created from that intake. Rhinebeck is just one of those places that retains its history. It’s part of daily life. It’s the reason why I love it so much — but it does come with a huge price tag. It’s really expensive to live out here.
New Yorkers do that to a place: they buy a summer home somewhere up the Hudson, then decide it’s so nice, let’s make it year round. Then everyone catches on and does the same thing, and in a heartbeat, the price of everything goes through the roof and city people are all over the place.
Okay! Well, I hope things are good in your part of the world, gang. I’m gonna grab some more coffee and hang out and think about life until Sandra emerges from the boudoir. I leave you with a shot looking down in the neighbors yard at 6:30 am this morning.
It’s a truly peaceful morning here in Rhinebeck!! Below (at the bottom) is a photo I took just now from the bed.
One nice thing I was able to do for Sandra the moment I got here, was blow out a fuse here in the guest room!! And try as we might, we can’t fix it! So an expensive electrician needs to be called in!! Please feel free to invite me to stay in your guest room whenever you’d like to!!
Anyway. I am doing things the old-fashioned way— relying on the daylight hours to write in my journal. Oh, and of course, using my iPhone to guide me in the darkness! Just like my pioneering ancestors did!!
Nick Cave sent out the best Red Hand Files newsletter yesterday. I’d link to it but I’m not certain how to do all that on my phone while I’m posting to the blog. Anyway, it was a really beautiful newsletter and luckily it arrived right before I took off for my 500-mile drive to NY. It really just helped me have a great frame of mind and I had just the best trip!!
i made it in exactly 9 hours, door to door. Unheard of!! It’s usually close to 10 or 11 hours, due to traffic. But yesterday, everything was just absolutely perfect!! No traffic, no road construction blocking anything. Gorgeous weather! I sailed right through.
And it was so nice, as I was driving away from my house, to have my birth mom standing there, waving goodbye to me at my kitchen door. She just loves me so much. She’s very introverted and quiet, but she is just so sweet to me. When I think of how terribly I missed her all through my childhood, it is still hard for me to grasp that she is now such a part of my life. I located her when I was 25, so it’s been many years already. Still, I am so blessed to have found her.
Saturday, Sandra and I meet with the director in the city re: Tell My Bones., even though I still haven’t even attempted to begin those rewrites he wants for the ending of the play, But it’s just so great to be here with Sandra and have her as a sounding board, too. She does feel extremely positive about the drastic changes I’ve made to the script. So that’s really good.
There’s a lot going on here re: our other play in Toronto. I can’t really go into it on the blog, but we just have a lot on our plate. So it will be some intense days around here.
All right. I’m gonna go downstairs and grab some more coffee. Thanks for visiting, gang! I love you guys. See ya!