Tag Archives: Nick Cave & Warren Ellis

Cats Are So Good At Acting Like They Can’t Understand You!

Yes, once again, I have subtly left the vacuum cleaner in the middle of the family room, hoping that the cats would take the hint and vacuum the darn house, but they just walk right past it. Not only as if they don’t see it, but as if they don’t even comprehend what it’s for.

It just gets me so mad. One of these days, I’m just going to fucking break down and do it myself!

Anyway…

Yes, the dust and the cat hair (and the Marilyn hair) gathers all over the house (it makes me insane because I am a little bit of a cleaning freak, truth be told), but I got some amazing writing done on the play yesterday, gang. And you can only do so much, you know?

ME (drumming my fingers on my desk, thinking): Hmmm. Decisions, decisions. Do I want a Pulitzer Prize or a clean house?

I really was just so happy yesterday.  I somehow managed to capture one of those complicated dream-painting scenes from the Tell My Bones screenplay and translate it for the stage.  (Meaning that one of Helen’s most popular paintings comes to life while she’s dreaming and she then uses the setting of her painting to interact with all the people in her life who have died.) It’s very easy to do on film, but I wasn’t sure how best to achieve it for the stage without having some sort of huge budget, a la “Sunday in the Park with George.”  Especially since there are just so many of Helen’s paintings setting the scenes in this play. You don’t want to just focus hugely on one thing and then not bring the rest of the play up to that scope. (i.e., a Broadway Musical budget.)

Plus, I was able to use the setting of the painting coming to life to sort of jettison a bunch of narrative monologue type stuff and really cut to the chase and then move forward to the next segment. (And underlying the whole “painting coming to life” scene, is the cast singing, in a really ghost-like, ethereal way, the old  slave spiritual, “Didn’t My Lord Deliver Daniel?” )

We’ll see what the director thinks. I’m guessing it still needs tweaking but overall, I am just so happy. I’m going to work on it some more today because our meeting has been switched to next Tuesday.

I’m not sure what’s up in Melbourne. So far no reviews in the online newspapers in Australia re: the Nick Cave & Warren Ellis events going on with the symphony there. But I did see that more Bad Seeds are supposed to be involved (?) on Saturday night (which for all I know is right now, since I have no clue what day or time it is in Australia!!) so perhaps that is what everyone is waiting for? I actually do not know. Anyway.  No reviews yet. And I had to un-follow  #nickcave on Instagram because way, way, WAY too much insane stuff gets into my Instagram feed with that hashtag. Most of it is actually quite interesting, and mostly from Europe, but I don’t have time to scroll through all that insanity because it only makes me want to stop and ponder!!!

Eventually, we will find out everything about everything. I feel confident about that.

Okay. I gotta scoot, gang. I once again slept in a little bit today because my bed was just so darn comfortable — it got back down into the 60s Fahrenheit during the night. And my bed, and all the open windows — it was just too beautiful. Eros was everywhere! But now I gotta get going here.

Thanks for visiting. I leave you with this — a young girl choir in Mississippi, singing “Didn’t My Lord Deliver Daniel?” For some reason, this is my favorite version on YouTube. It is so uncomplicated but full of enthusiasm. Okay, I love you guys! Have a terrific Friday!! See ya!

Oops! Forgot to Title This One!!

First of all, I want to thank Edge of Humanity Magazine for publishing the 3rd segment from my memoir-in-progress In the Shadow of Narcissa. It was posted online last night.

The new segment is titled “I’m Crying Because the President has been Shot” and it’s posted in the Human Condition section. You can read it here.

They also have some really cool new photo-journalism pieces, so if you’ve never checked out Edge of Humanity Magazine, you should.

Well. Yesterday was interesting. For reasons I won’t go into on the blog, I spent the entire day struggling with the revisions on the play because my brain was completely distracted by something else. And I mean, for 8 hours. I could not focus. I was making myself nuts — plus, it was 2 days in a row that I was getting nothing done, for 2 entirely different reasons.

But then, by around 6pm, I finally forced myself to just deal with all the stuff that was in my brain. I sorted it out. And then — presto-change-o! — everything inside my head was fine. I spent the next 4 hours at my desk and all the revisions just flowed. All of them. I got them all done, plus I was really happy with how they turned out.

I sent them off to the director, and now, today, I have to come up with the next new segment because I’m meeting with him again tomorrow and I don’t want to show up with nothing new.

So here’s hoping that today will just flow.

It’s a gorgeous day here today, gang. It’s sunny and only 65 degrees Fahrenheit!

It’s been a beautiful summer, overall. Although nothing like last summer was, where all the old Spirits in this town came out to play. Constantly.  But I have been assured by those same Spirits that it’s my fault; they’re ready and willing to come out to play with me but I’m always at my desk, working.

I haven’t even been to the graveyard once this summer. If you’re new to the blog, the graveyard here is wonderful. It’s just down the street from me. All the founders of the town are buried there and have been for going on 200 years. They communicate with me when I go over there. They are really lively. I’m serious. I started writing a really fun, sexy magic realism/murder mystery, based on them and this town, called Down to the Meadows of Sleep: The Hurley Falls Mysteries. I got about 50 pages into it last summer, but then other projects took over my life and so it sits, awaiting my attention again at some point.

The novel takes place in the summertime, so I equate the whole project with summer. I can’t imagine working on it in fall or winter, so it might be another year before I get back to it. We’ll see.

All I know is that I absolutely love summer in this town. And I have always been someone who hated summer, because I can’t stand heat and my brain malfunctions in humidity, and my skin reacts badly to relentless exposure to sunlight, and I get weird reactions to sunscreen. So summer was just never my season, even though I was born in late July.

But being here, in this town, with all these amazing old trees and cornfields and green hills, and Spirits that are just right there, happy to chat with you… Well, now I live for summer. I can’t wait for it to arrive and then I don’t want to see it end.

For some weird reason, the schools around here go back in session in two weeks! Can you believe that? For those poor kids, the summer really is almost over. Everywhere else in the country goes back to school after Labor Day, which is what it used to be like here in Ohio, too. Not anymore.

But I’m going to cling to summer, because it isn’t officially over until mid-September. And I just don’t want to see it go (even though, when fall officially starts, I’ll be in NYC, for rehearsals of my play (!!) and to see Nick Cave twice. And to stay in a suite at the Algonquin Hotel!! And I’m staying in some other hotel for one night, too, but I don’t remember now which one. I only remember that it’s close to Lincoln Center.) (Which reminds me, so far only one post to Instagram from Melbourne last night, but that was before the concert began. I guess everyone there is sleeping now? What the hell day/time is it in Australia anyway??!!)

So, if summer does indeed have to go, at least fall will be arriving on its heels in a most beautiful way.

Okay. I gotta get working on that play now. Tomorrow will be here in a heartbeat and I refuse to be empty-handed when it arrives.

Thanks for visiting, gang!! I leave you with one of my favorite summer songs from my wee bonny girlhood! I  love you guys. See ya!

Wouldn’t It Be Nice?”

Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older
Then we wouldn’t have to wait so long?
And wouldn’t it be nice to live together
In the kind of world where we belong?
You know it’s gonna make it that much better
When we can say goodnight and stay together
Wouldn’t it be nice if we could wake up
In the morning when the day is new?
And after having spent the day together
Hold each other close the whole night through?
Happy times together we’ve been spending
I wish that every kiss was never ending
Oh, wouldn’t it be nice?
Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray
It might come true (run run ooo)
Baby, then there wouldn’t be a single thing we couldn’t do
We could be married (we could be married)
And then we’d be happy (and then we’d be happy)
Oh, wouldn’t it be nice?
You know it seems the more we talk about it
It only makes it worse to live without it
But let’s talk about it
Oh, wouldn’t it be nice?
Good night, oh baby
Sleep tight, oh baby
Good night, oh baby
Sleep tight, oh baby
c- 1966 Brian Wilson, Tony Asher, Mike Love

Hmm, that Kombucha thing, not so sure…

You know, you’d think that someone — me, for instance — who has a brain, who knows how to think and stuff like that, would have realized sooner that since kombucha is fermented it would likely have an alcohol content…

Even while the level is low in it, I’m super-sensitive to alcohol.

I had a small glass of that stuff yesterday afternoon, and then could not, for the life of me, figure out why I was having such a stupidly hard time concentrating on the rewrites of the play.

My entire day derailed from then on. I could not focus, and even though the changes the director wanted me to make to the play were in red on the printed script and very easy to see, it was a colossal effort for me to hone in on them and then type the changes into the Word file. I’d look at the red highlighted stuff and then think: How on earth am I supposed to do this?  So a lot of stuff I wound up double-highlighting in blue and setting aside to “look at later.” Just crazy stuff.

And my energy level was weird; I couldn’t even do my yoga. I really started to get a little depressed because I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. Luckily, I talked on the phone with Kara for quite awhile in the evening and that distracted me from feeling like I was losing my mind.

It wasn’t until this morning, when I woke up feeling really disappointed in myself for not getting enough done yesterday when I have another meeting with the director on Friday — then it occurred to me that maybe the kombucha had messed up my energy somehow. And so then I looked it up and, yes, there’s alcohol in there. Trace amounts, but it’s in there.

So, I guess I’m gonna have to have a little talk with kombucha and tell it that it’s not working out…

It’s kind of humiliating, though. When I initially looked at the changes the director wanted (this is for the brand new revisions I did last week), I saw that they were really simple changes that I could do in a heartbeat, and then move on to plenty of new stuff by Friday. So, to get stymied like that, and lose a whole day of work. Wow.

It reminds me of the time I accidentally ate a guy’s chocolate chip cookie that was laced with Molly and my day was fucking shot.

(You can see that I’m not one who likes to not work…)

(You’d never know that I’m someone who spent about 20 years of her life with severe “recreational” drug problems… Now I can’t tolerate them at all.)

Well, so. I hope your Tuesday was significantly better than mine! And Wednesday is indeed before us, a fresh slate. (Unless you’re one of those people who lives somewhere where Wednesday is already on its way out — i.e., Australia, or someplace intensely foreign like that.)

I wish I could be in Australia right now, though, to see one of those concerts Nick Cave & Warren Ellis are doing with the Symphony Orchestra in Melbourne. I’m guessing it is going to be just stunningly beautiful. (Their film scores.)

(Which reminds me that Nick Cave’s Red Hand Files newsletter yesterday was really funny, although it left me with a vision of him that I’d rather not have in my head.)

Okay.

I guess in keeping with this feeling that an undercurrent of change is underway in my life, I’ve been feeling lately that I want to work with the elderly again. Not give up writing, or anything, but just spend some hours in my week leaving the constant confines of my crazy head and do something meaningful, something “outward.”

I’ve done a lot of work with the elderly — not as a nurse or anything, but in connection with my ministry degree, I did a lot of what are called Pastoral Care education hours, because my professors thought I would be a good fit for a Chaplain. Since it was clear, I guess, that I was way too radical to ever get a church of my own or anything.

I wasn’t keen on that Chaplain idea because it just seemed like all I would be doing was dealing with people on the brink of death and families who were grieving — all the time. Crisis mode, all the time.  That is just not me. Although I was trained in hospice care and early Alzheimer’s care, and I actually really did enjoy that.

But, if I start doing that stuff again — you know, then you’re one-on-one with people, and you’re bonding, and creating deep connections — and I have 2 plays that I’m up to my eyeballs in, and a million other projects in line after that. And I’m going to have to travel — what’s the use in having such a  hideous passport photo if no one in far-flung foreign countries (like, Canada) ever gets to see it??

I think I’m crazy. I’m not sure why I think my life needs more meaning at this particular juncture. It probably actually needs less at this point, but I just haven’t figured that out yet.

Last evening, Kara said, “Come on, Marilyn. You need to relax. Let’s go get that cabin in the caves for a couple days. Bring your laptop if you have to, but let’s go.”

And she pointed out that there was a hot tub… one of my favorite things.

But I’d rather be done with all the rewrites on the play, which I have to accomplish within the next couple of weeks, and then go to a cabin in the caves with a hot tub. And Kara. I sure do love talking to her. The conversation just goes places, you know? And then I could really relax.

I don’t even remember what I’m like when I relax.

I do know what I’m like when I’m not relaxed and I just don’t find it very attractive…

Okay. On that mixed-signal note, I gotta scoot. Have a wonderful Wednesday, wherever you are in the world — even if it’s just a memory now! Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya.

Image result for cabins at old man's cave

Miracles Sort of DO Happen!!

I’m not sure how they managed it, but the United States Government delivered my new passport today and the hideous passport photo that was taken of me — the one that surpassed in hideousness my driver’s license photo — no longer looks quite so hideous!!

It’s still not a photo that I ever want anyone to see, but it looks better than it did before because now it has a bunch of squiggly blue lines running through it.  I guess this is just one of the reasons why it’s great to be an American. The Government runs a bunch of squiggly blue lines through your face when you least expect it and then little miracles happen.

Well. On another topic.

I tried kombucha for the first time today.

For a very long time, I have thought about trying it but it just sounded so disgusting that I thought it would make me gag. Here are some possible side effects of kombucha:

  • If contaminated, side effects include stomach problems, yeast infections, allergic reactions, jaundice, nausea, vomiting, head and neck pain, and death.

That’s pretty exciting, right? How many other drinks, if contaminated, can say that?

However, the kind of kombucha I am always looking at and not buying is sold in the refrigerated health-drink aisle at the store, not homemade stuff. Probably not contaminated or I would have seen the horrific reports by now. (However, the mass-produced bottle is covered in those Sanskrit-looking symbols that look like you should either meditate while drinking it or practice yoga — hopefully kundalini or tantric yoga, but I’ll have to get back to you on that.) (Yes! I’m always looking for reasons why sex is absolutely required in every area of my life. My beverages, my yoga, etc., etc.)

I just now looked online to see again what the benefits of kombucha are, and I immediately saw a blurb from Web MD that claims that, when taken by mouth, it is safe for most adults.

So then I thought, oh god, don’t tell me people do kombucha enemas…

So I looked that up and it turns out: sure they do!! Why wouldn’t they??!!

Jiminy Christmas.

Anyway. So I finally tried it today (by mouth — the possibly safer way). (If I were ever, ever, EVER persuaded to try it any other way, I’m not going to blog about it.) (Which I’m sure only makes you wonder now what I’m actually doing when I’m not blogging about something…  Hmm. Indeed.)

But here’s a hint: Don’t mindlessly shake the kombucha bottle while staring out the kitchen window, wondering if you remembered to text the director of your play back or not,  before you open it.

I forgot the stuff is super carbonated (fermented). It absolutely exploded all over the place when I twisted off the cap. And I kid you not, it instantly tarnished my silver ring. My favorite ring of all time, mind you. So that was weird.

I still drank some of it and it’s not bad. We’ll see if it does anything, I don’t know — inexplicably wonderful. Not to mock people who swear by it. It’s just that I don’t have any health issues that I know of; I’m only drinking it because today was the day that I stood in the refrigerated health-drink aisle at the store and thought: Maybe this stuff is awesome. So I bought it.

Actually, now that I think about it, today was the day I bought quite a few things at the store that I don’t normally buy. I wonder what’s up with that? Maybe it’s astrological and planets are aligning in some sort of weird way. I don’t know. But I bought things like gluten-free pretzels — turns out they’re hard as little rocks and not very salty.

I bought organic, non-GMO extra-garlic hummus — tried some of that, too, and it was amazing.

I bought organic Greek yogurt with peaches and raspberries in it, rather than with strawberries and blueberries in it, which I usually buy, like clockwork; month after month, year after year.

I also bought organic, non-GMO pure pomegranate juice. I tried a little bit of that, too, and that tasted really weird and it had little dregs at the bottom of the glass, like, maybe I was supposed to decant it. (I’m not sure why I was trying everything today, either. I never come home from the store and immediately start eating and drinking everything that I just bought. So something weird is obviously up with me. I’m obviously searching for something…)

I also bought organic, non-GMO coconut water with pure aloe vera juice in it and that was super good! It really was. However, due to the intestinal-moving properties of aloe vera juice, I’m guessing that you wouldn’t want to drink too much of it or you will never have any reasons to experiment, medicinally, with kombucha enemas.

Unless you don’t want to experiment medicinally and are only interested in the other thing people do with enemas… It’s okay. Rest assured, we don’t judge here in Marilyn’s Room! We’ve seen it all…

Yes. So. Weird shopping day for me. I wonder what’s up with that?

Plus, when I woke up very early this morning, I was once again thinking about that guy that I posted about yesterday — the older guy with the nice hippie family who was just out of prison, and I was 14. It was super intimate stuff that was all coming back to me, meaning stuff he was actually saying to me while we were together — I’m not going to post it here. My point is that, I have no clue why I’m suddenly remembering all this. It happened 45 summers ago. And I had completely forgotten about him. Now, all the details are sort of surging back — for what reason? None of it’s bad. He was very nice to me. He liked me a lot. He liked hanging out with me.

It makes me wonder, did he die or something, and now he’s spiritually revisiting his life in some way and I’m getting pulled into it? I have no clue.  All I know is that I’m eating and drinking weird stuff and remembering in graphic detail something from 45 years ago.

Plus, his mom was just so nice; so emotionally open and supportive. Nothing like the mother I had at home. I was always sort of spellbound when people had kind mothers who were easy to talk to. I really just longed for that. Once, when I was 11, I tried to tell my mom something personal and she said, “Don’t tell me this stuff; I’m not your friend. I’m your mother.” It hurt so bad. I felt so isolated.

It’s one of the things I really treasure about my birth mom. Even though she’s really quiet and keeps to herself and you’d think she’d be hard to talk to, I can tell her anything. Absolutely anything. And then she’ll usually say, “You’re just like me.”

I don’t know what would have happened to me if I hadn’t found her. Finding her and then realizing right away, wow, she is just like me. It was my sanity. Finally. I still had a lot of messed-up shit to deal with in my head and in my life (I was 25 when I found her and she was 38), but at least I finally knew that I wasn’t crazy.

What a blessing. I was nothing remotely like anyone in my adoptive family, but that woman who was sitting over there — the one with the really dark eyes, who was drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette, not looking at anyone or saying anything at all — I am just like that woman over there.

It was a true homecoming, like the kind they talk about in church.

Okay. I’m gonna do some (regular, non-tantric) yoga now and then study my Italian.

I hope you’ve had a terrific Monday, wherever you are in the world and wherever it took you!! Thanks for visiting.  I leave you with another one of those truly beautiful songs from that Neil Diamond album, Rainbow, that I blogged about yesterday.

I’ve been playing this song, and “Suzanne,” all day today. Just remembering everything. Fondly.  I love you guys. See ya. (PS: Nick Cave is actually gonna do something later this week — with one Bad Seed!! Hopefully it will be all over Instagram.)

“If You Go Away”

If you go away on this summer day,
Then you might as well take the sun away
All the birds that flew in the summer sky
When our love was new
And our hearts were high
When the day was young,
And the night was long
And the moon stood still
For the nightbird song
If you go away, if you go away
If you go away

But if you stay, I’ll make you a day
Like no day has been or will be again
We’ll sail on the sun, we’ll ride on the rain
We’ll talk to the trees that worship the wind
And if you go, I’ll understand
Leave me just enough love to fill up my hand
If you go away, if you go away
If you go away

If you go away, as I know you must,
There’ll be nothing left in the world to trust
Just an empty room filled with empty space
Like the empty look I see on your face
Can I tell you now, as you turn to go
I’ll be dying slowly ’til your next hello
If you go away, if you go away
If you go away

But if you stay, I’ll make you a night
Like no night has been or will be again
I’ll sail on your smile
I’ll ride on your touch
I’ll talk to your eyes, that I love so much

But if you go, I won’t cry,
The good’s gone from goodbye
If you go away, if you go away
If you go away

c – 1959 Jacques Brel; Rod McKuen (English translation)