Tag Archives: Sandra Caldwell

Happy Days Are Here Again!!

The Nick Cave website announced this morning that on July 23rd, a “live stream” concert with Nick Cave, performing alone at the piano in Alexandra Palace in London, will stream on the DICE app!!

It will stream in 3 different global time zones so check that link above there for details. I don’t know what the global exchange rates are, but for the US ticket, it was only $20. (And seating is only limited by the number of people who can sit on your phone at once!!)



As luck would, of course, have it, July 23rd is my dad’s 90th birthday and I will be driving home from Cincinnati that evening, but oh well.  It’s always best to have nothing whatsoever to do for months, and then cram all upcoming events into the same day. (My life seems to excel at that, with or without a pandemic.)

But I am, of course, very excited, and will endeavor to not speed more than my customary 95 mph the entire 100 miles that it is between my dad’s place and my home.


I got some more good-ish news yesterday. Sandra called to tell me that she’s having a phone conference today with the theater company in Toronto  that will be producing our play  (this one is mostly her play, about her life; but I’m a contributing writer on it and we’ve been collaborating on it for something like 7 years now. Literally. It was supposed to be produced in Toronto this Fall, however, as we all know too well by now, 2020 no longer exists in the abstract, only in the immediate upfront here & now, day after day after day, hour after unpredictable hour …)

Anyway!! I will be super excited to hear what they chat about. I’m guessing our production date will be reset for 2021, but no clue yet exactly when. (And rest assured, gang, that there are still a TON of rewrites needed for that play!! So I can’t wait to be indescribably super busy again. It will finally feel like real life around here.)

Today is the day I’m supposed to chat with my accountant in NYC re: Abstract Absurdity Productions, but he never actually confirmed a time, so I’m not certain if it’s happening today or not. We’ll only know for sure  if the phone rings…

Meanwhile. Yesterday did not pan out as planned. Kevin (the Director of Tell My Bones) had to cancel our dinner plans for the Granville Inn, and instead, we’ll be going there on Sunday evening. I was really disappointed because it has been 3 and 1/2 months since I socialized in any way and I was so excited for the chance to not only go out with someone but also to go to Granville, but that’s how life seems to go these days. We’ll do it on Sunday, instead.

11 Granville Ohio Photos - Free & Royalty-Free Stock Photos from ...
Granville Ohio in the summer

After I got off the phone with him, I went outside and took a walk — just to sort of focus on something else. It was just a gorgeous day. I took a bunch of photos during the walk and posted them to my Instagram account, but here are a couple them.

Across the street from my house, looking east.


The first one  is of the train tracks in front of my house, but looking East this time — in the direction of Coshocton County, which is just a really beautiful county, gang. (You can’t see it from here, it’s too far away. I’m just saying that it is really beautiful there.)

Looking west, from the main road in and out of town

And the second one is of the main street through the village. If you look way in the background, that hill is where there are always a bunch of cows grazing. By the way, by the time you’re at that hillside, you are already over Wakatamika Creek and well out of the village.

I know the street looks deserted, but I actually waited for a bunch of cars to drive by first.

Plus, it was 90 degrees Fahrenheit yesterday and not a lot of folks were outside at midday.

Okay, well, gang. I guess that’s it for today!! I hope you have a terrific Thursday planned for yourself, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting!!

I’ll leave you with the song “Idiot Prayer” — the title of Nick Cave’s upcoming streaming event. It’s a song I really like but I won’t say why I like it so much. It’s from the album The Boatman’s Call — Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, 1997. (This is a really beautiful album, gang, if you aren’t familiar with it.  Some real heartbreaking gems on this album, plus the title is really easy to spell.)

So, listen and enjoy! I love you guys. See ya!

“Idiot Prayer”

They’re taking me down, my friend
And as they usher me off to my end
Will I bid you adieu?
Or will I be seeing you soon?
If what they say around here is true
Then we’ll meet again
Me and you

My time is at hand, my dove
They’re gonna pass me to that house above
Is Heaven just for victims, dear?
Where only those in pain go?
Well it takes two to tango
We will meet again, my love
I know

If you’re in Heaven then you’ll forgive me, dear
Because that’s what they do up there
If you’re in Hell, then what can I say
You probably deserved in anyway
I guess I’m gonna find out any day
For we’ll meet again
And there’ll be Hell to pay

Your face comes to me from the depths, dear
Your silent mouth mouths, “Yes”, dear
Dark red and big with blood
They’re gonna shut me down, my love
They’re gonna launch me into the stars
Well, all things come to pass
Glory hallelujah

This prayer is for you, my love
Sent on the wings of a dove
An idiot prayer of empty words
Love, dear, is strictly for the birds
We each get what we deserve
My little snow white dove
Rest assured

© 1997 Nick Cave

Oh Man, I Knew It Was Gonna Hurt…

I actually did get to listen to Ghosteen last night — the new album by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds.  It was still available on YouTube once I got home and was safely in bed. In my room. The only place in the world that protects me from the world. Usually.

You perhaps recall that when he first announced the new album last week and described what it was going to be about, my initial, sort of primal reaction was, Oh no, now what. A sort of “please keep that away from me” kind of feeling.

I had barely survived the first time listening to Skeleton Tree. It took a long time for me to be able to listen to that album without feeling like the world was being pulled out from under me. And I was worried that Ghosteen was going to be worse. Meaning, just too emotionally intense for me.

And guess what, gang??!!

I was right.

It’s really just a beautiful, beautiful album.  Just stunning. On so many levels. But I’m wondering, would I rather be hit by a freight train, or listen to this album again?

I’m thinking freight train. But I’m not 100% sure. I mean, luckily, God saw to it that I have ready access to a freight train — it runs right past my door, sometimes several times a day. And night. I already pre-ordered both the MP3 and the CD of Ghosteen. So when one of those things arrives, I’ll wait to press the “start” button until I know for sure a train is coming, and then decide at the last minute…

Jesus Christ, right?

It is just too beautiful. And part of what tormented me most is that, a huge portion of it, I don’t understand. The whole first album, which is being told by “the children.” Or it simply is “the children.” And I don’t understand why it’s “the children.”  I couldn’t figure that part out.  Why is it “the children”? And I’m thinking it’s maybe because I never had any so I’m not able to access something important there. And that alone, that state of being childless, is just something that’s unbearable for me, on any given day, at any given time, in any given year.

So that got triggered, and from there, everything sort of spiraled down for me.  The only way I know how to handle that whole subject is to close the door and walk away. But, come on! It’s a Nick Cave album! He hasn’t had a new album out in a couple of years. I don’t want to just close the door and walk away.

The second half, the part about “the parents” was easier for me to at least maybe understand.  I could understand why “the parents” were saying that second part.

Well, anyway. I’m sure I will adjust over time. Find my way back from the train tracks and maybe not be any worse for wear. Or, maybe even create great art. That would be cool. (I’m being sarcastic there because, of course, I think that’s the sole reason I even exist — to create art.  And it gets tiring. Wouldn’t it be cool if God had created me for something/anything else?  You know, like: Let’s let her have this great LIFE so that she doesn’t have to create art in order to process the simple act of getting out of bed in the morning…)

So, anyway. In all honesty, it is a beautiful record. Majestic and exquisite. Just so beautiful. And whether or not I can process it, isn’t the actual point, is it? Great art is supposed to make you feel something, so in that respect, it was a truly GREAT work of art. (And I did, indeed, see that coming.)


So Sandra texted me yesterday and guess what? She’s working on a new play. Writing a new play, I mean. I am her collaborator on theater projects so this means that I, too, am working on a new play.

We have two other plays on the back burner, that are just barely even developed. But it sounds like this new one has her complete attention. Even though she’ll be going to Stratford to play the role of Mama Morton in “Chicago” at the same time that we’ll be doing the full-length staged reading of Tell My Bones in NYC; and we have our other play to do in Toronto, although that one has come to a little bit of a standstill right now, awaiting words from lawyers and accountants. Apparently, we will be undertaking another new play.

You know, when she texted me that, I wanted to just lie down and refuse to get back up. I’m sort of wiped out. These new Tell My Bones rewrites are probably the most important work I’ve had to undertake in my entire career. I need to focus.

This is when it would be good to just say “fuck the world,” and just  drink & smoke.

But I don’t really do either anymore. So, onward.

The morning here — meaning 5:30 am — was quite, quite lovely. There was something sacred in the stillness. The heatwave broke. Fall is really here. Another opportunity to try to figure out what the heck any of this all means, and why love seems to still be at the root of all of it.

I woke up crying. Not sobbing, or anything, but tears were in my eyes from the moment I awoke and they stayed there all during breakfast.

But I stayed in bed for a little while, wondering about the “story” of a person’s life, juxtaposed against how that life might have felt to be lived. F. Scott Fitzgerald came to my mind. He is now considered one of the greatest literary writers of the 20th Century. If you know his life, his career, at all, you will know that his outrageously uncontrolled alcoholism defined him while he was alive. And his wife was nuts and every extravagant thing about her cost him a fortune. It wasn’t until he died that his writing, alone — his creations, his art — could stand on its own, without the pain of how his life felt to be lived. (I’m not even going to try to talk about Zelda and her tragic fate because now she’s too bogged down in revisionist, feminist theory kinds of stuff.)

But there was the “life” he was creating while he lived. Meaning his endless and amazing short stories (that he wrote to keep himself afloat financially) and then his beautiful novels — that not only document the times he was living in, but created them at the very same time: The Jazz Age.

And then there was his actual life. Complicated, frustrating, passionate, tragic, short. And absolutely saturated with booze.

I’ve been thinking about this stuff lately because I am so very, very tired of “my life” and how it lived. But because I know how to write, it “saves” everything, you know? I can create a reason for life to feel worthwhile. And most days, that’s enough for me. Other days, nothing’s enough.

Okay, I’m gonna scoot. Get more coffee. Look at the beautiful, sacred morning some more. Embrace autumn. Let love be enough. Thanks for visiting. I love you, guys. See ya.

“Bye Bye Blackbird”
c – 1926

Blackbird, blackbird singing the blues all day right outside my door
Blackbird, blackbird gotta be on your way
Where there’s sunshine galore
All through the winter you just hang around
Now you’re going back home
Blackbird, blackbird gotta be on your way
Where there’s sunshine galore

Pack up all my cares and woes,
Here I go, singing low,
Bye, bye, blackbird.
Where somebody waits for me,
Sugar’s sweet, so is he,
Bye, bye, blackbird.

No one here can love and understand me,
Oh, what hard luck stories they all hand me.

Make my bed and light the light,
I’ll arrive late tonight,
Blackbird, bye, bye.

Pack up all my cares and woes,
Here I go, singing low,
Bye, bye, blackbird.
Where somebody waits for me,
Sugar’s sweet, so is he,
Bye, bye, bye, bye, blackbird.

I said, no one here can love and understand me,
Oh, what hard luck stories they all hand me.

So, make my bed and light the light,
I’ll arrive late tonight,
Blackbird, bye, bye.
Make my bed and light the light,
I’ll arrive late tonight,
I said blackbird,
I said blackbird,
Oh, blackbird, bye, bye.

c – 1926 Henderson -Dixon

Wake Up! Smell Coffee! Pay Overdue Internet Bill!!

Nothing quite like that gentle reminder from your Internet provider that your bill might be a little bit overdue… (i.e., they interrupt your service at 8 a.m. on the dot…)

You know, it isn’t actually my fault.

For years — literally — my bill was always due on the first of the month. And then, like, 2 months ago, I noticed that the due date had been randomly changed to the 23rd of the month — and they never officially told me this!! Or explained why!!

Of course, they might have told me this and explained why. I never actually read the bill. I just pay it on the first and throw the bill away.

When they changed my due date, I decided to ignore it and keep paying it on the first. This morning, they decided to stop ignoring the fact that I was ignoring them, and they introduced me to this concept of: pay your bill or we’re cutting you off.

So, anyway.  They sort of put a crimp in the joy of my first cup of coffee of the morning while I skim over email — noticing there was a new Red Hand Files newsletter from Nick Cave in there!! Yay! And when I went to click on it and read it — Ooops! Right at that precise moment it became 8 a.m. and then no Internet connection.

Aaaaaach. Fuck you fuck you fuck you.

Of course, their “fuck you” to me carried more weight.

So I called them and conversed with the robot and paid my fucking bill.

And here I now am. Doing laundry. Drinking coffee. Once again, beginning my day.

My cough seemed to get worse during the night, not better. So I didn’t sleep too great. When I finally did get some decent sleep, I overslept and then slept in until 6:30 am. But here’s hoping I will finally kick this stupid cold today.


Yesterday was very interesting indeed!

I went to a gas station about 15 miles from here because they had a really great price on gas yesterday. (No, I didn’t drive 15 miles out of my way and use all that gas just to save on gas; it was on the way into town where I buy my groceries.)

It was evening already — dark out. That time that I actually find a little magical at a gas station in the middle of nowhere — all those lights and very few people anywhere around. Well, this lady who’s putting gas in her own car, looks over at me. And then looks at me again. And finally calls out to me: “Do you live in Crazeysburg?”

Me, astounded that anyone on Earth is actually speaking to me, gets very excited and says, “Yes, I do!”

It turns out that she’s my neighbor — she lives one house away from me. And she loves my new car! So she didn’t really recognize me at all, she recognized the car. And so we talked at length about “the car.”

And actually, an elderly couple was coming out of the dollar store, back before I went to NY, and they stopped in the parking lot and stared sort of spellbound at my grown-up, molten lava-colored Honda Civic, and said, “That’s a beautiful car.”

And in Rhinebeck, Sandra’s husband also really loved my new car. In fact, so did my mom — that fateful day when I took that trip to the cornfields of Hell and back and then finally hooked up with her. In a gas station in a tiny town called Clarksburg, where the first words out of her mouth were, “You have a new car!! You didn’t tell me! I’ve been driving all over for a fucking hour, looking for a white Honda Fit!”

Yeah, well. Anyway.

It is so weird to me, that I could own a car that anyone would look at twice, let alone fall in love with at first sight. And to have it be a car that I don’t actually emotionally connect to. I’m gracious, and say “thank you”, and all that. But somewhere deep inside, I’m usually thinking: you should see the car I really wanna buy…

But onward! It was kind of cool speaking to an actual neighbor (whose name was Angie). And now I know that everyone is noticing my new car (all 14 of the people who live around here). (And they’re probably wondering: How come she has that spiffy new car and the roof of her barn is still a complete wreck?! Where is her sense of home-owning priorities?)

Well, you know what Shakespeare said. Some are born with great cars, some achieve great cars, and others have great cars thrust upon them by the Honda dealership even though they were happy with their little Honda Fits and the roofs of their barns are still a complete wreck.

Nick Cave’s Red Hand Files newsletter today was really beautiful. About saying goodbye. And oddly enough, while I was meditating this morning, the man I wrote about recently  — the older married guy with cancer that I fell in love with who changed my life and then died — his essence came to me while I was meditating and he was saying something about me needing to let him go.

Naturally, I immediately blocked that. That’s my fallback position whenever anyone anywhere, living or dead, suggests something to me that would be in my best interests but that I have no desire whatsoever to accept, to acknowledge, or to even listen to.  (I’m making a joke of it but it actually isn’t funny.)

Then I did that Inner Being journaling thing right after the meditation, and there he was again — it was all about me needing to let that guy go. But it supposedly wasn’t about “saying goodbye,” it was about me evolving and expanding past where I am now and who I am now and to be really joyful about it, because spirits are eternal and that guy’s spirit isn’t actually going anywhere; you know, he’ll be there forever, but that I need to sort of redefine myself now and move into my future, and not think so much about someone who has moved on to the next realm.

So I said: okay, I willthink about it really seriously.

And then I put on my less churlish, grown-up self and reluctantly said, “Okay, I will.” And that twinge, you know — of goodbye. That I actually really have to do this and how much it sucks, even though my future is evolving into something really wonderful. And then that Red Hand Files letter being all about goodbyes. It was really bittersweet. Very beautiful.

All right. Speaking of Instagram! Which I was! I was inwardly saying that while there are remarkably fewer photos getting posted to Instagram re: the Nick Cave Conversations now (and I mean from, like, 20 down to like maybe three), Chicago looked like another great show. And tonight is Minneapolis! A town I don’t think I’ve ever been to. I’m not 100% positive about that. I might have passed through it at some point in my distant past. But what matters is that I won’t be there tonight! (I don’t mean that to sound like I’m excited to not be seeing Nick Cave tonight. I mean that it doesn’t matter whether or not I’ve ever been to Minneapolis before. Being there tonight would be the important thing, you know. Anyway.)

There is also a brand new Instagram account for my play Tell My Bones. I’m not a huge social media person. So I’m not really sure how you find it. I think maybe you just go to Instagram and look for tellmybones . And then, of course, follow it.

The website has still not launched but it will soon. (I’m guessing that you can guess what the URL will be…) I don’t handle any of that side of the marketing or publicity, etc., and it is so cool to just get alerts that all this stuff is happening! That all I’m in charge of is writing the play.

Okay, on that note — I gotta go write the play! (Well, that and finish doing the laundry.)

Thanks for visiting, guys. Have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world. All other things in my heart considered, I’m doing okay with tomorrow being the anniversary of Tom Petty’s death. I’m just moving on in all kinds of ways here, aren’t I? But I do leave you with this, “In the Dark of the Sun,” from their 1991 album Into the Great Wide Open. Okay. I love you guys. See ya.

“In the Dark of the Sun”

In the dark of the sun will you save me a place?
Give me hope, give me comfort, get me to
A better place?
I saw you sail across a river
Underneath Orion’s sword
In your eyes there was a freedom
I had never known before

Hey, yeah, yeah, in the dark of the sun
We will stand together
Yeah we will stand as one in the dark of the sun

Past my days of great confusion
Past my days of wondering why
Will I sail into the heavens
Constellations in my eyes?

Hey, yeah, yeah, in the dark of the sun
We will stand together
Yeah we will stand as one in the dark of the sun

c – 1991 Tom Petty

Who Does This Sound Like, Gang??!!

As most of you know, my birth mom has been staying at my house, taking care of my cats while I was away.

She called me on the phone yesterday to tell me that she will probably still be there this evening when I get home because my sister is coming to pick her up after work and she has to work late.

I’m actually really happy that she will still be there and I can see her again— plus it’ll be nice not coming home to an empty house.

But listen to what she said: “It gets so warm during the day that I go around and open all the windows, then in the morning, it’s freezing so I go around and close them. Then midday, I open them all up again!”

That’s so funny, right?! That’s how I spend every single darn day! Just hearing her say that, and that weird tone in her voice— the one that perfectly matches the voice in my own head — made me feel way less crazy about all those windows. It was too funny.

And you are all my witnesses: you all know that I tried really hard to get that house clean before she got there. I did my very best. However, she told me yesterday that she dusted and vacuumed and swept the porch and cleared off the cobwebs there—and cleared out all the weeds from the front of my house!!!

Jesus. I must say, I’m kind of excited but, you know, I was really trying not to let that happen. I really was. But since I sort of failed there— well, wow. Yay!! Coming home to a clean house and no weeds!!

The other amazing thing that made me so happy, so excited: She actually bonded with all those crazy cats! Well, all of them except Francis, who is just one mean little cat. But she said they come out in the morning to get fed, and then come out again in the evening to get treats! This sounds simple to you, but is unheard of in my house because my cats are feral and terrified of people. They will hide for literally days on end if people are about.

I had a feeling that my mom was going to make some progress with them.  I’m so happy. Plus this means they didn’t act out while I was gone by pissing on everything. Yay!!

Okay, well as sad as I am to not be attending anymore Conversations with Nick Cave, they do indeed resume tonight in Cambridge. Lucky ducks!

There were some great photos on Instagram from both shows in NYC— both from onstage and offstage, so that was cool. Even though, specifically at Town Hall, it was really distracting and annoying to have those people around me taping everything with their phones, especially when the whole theater was dark and he was singing. Those annoying phone lights. Then of course, it makes the ushers have to come over and flash another light at the culprits to get them to put their phones away. Just maddening all the way around. So distracting.

But of course, people like me then go on Instagram and hit all those little “like” buttons, saving all those great photos, and only reinforcing all this bad behavior!!

Okay, gang. Gonna go say my prayers and offer some gratitude to St. Francis, St. Christopher, and Christ himself, in preparation for another 9 or 10 hour drive.

It really was such a successful trip. And the Airbnb wasn’t horrible. I might do it again next time, I’m not really sure. As much as I love hotels, I did like the casualness of just trotting down the stairs and hitting the street. So we’ll see.

All righty. Thanks for visiting!! The next time you see me, I’ll be up to my eyeballs in rewrites! Have a great Wednesday, wherever you are in the world, gang. I love you guys. See ya!

Okay, Gang! She’s Outta Here!!

First, allow me to complain a little bit!

In no particular order:

  • 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.”)

All righty!!!!


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!



Hotels Are Better…

There’s nothing at all wrong with this Airbnb. As Midtown Manhattan apartments go, it’s totally okay. But hotels are 100 million percent better.

For instance, another guest is here and sharing the bathroom with me. I don’t know who it is, but it showered during the night and used my one and only towel!! Now I can’t shower again until the magic towel fairy mysteriously shows up from wherever she actually lives and brings me a fresh one.

I would rather remain my own unshowered person indefinitely than use a damp towel after some total stranger in NYC used it.

But other than that, it’s a perfectly serviceable room. The bed isn’t terrible but it’s incredibly noisy right outside the window, so I only slept 3 hours.  I have nothing to do today but write and have lunch with Wayne, so I’m guessing I can just nap off and on all day if I want to.

NYC has gotten so crowded and so congested with traffic that it’s really just a pain in the ass kind of city now, with no charm, no character. All the things I used to love about it are gone, but it’s still fun to visit for brief little periods.

And I’m thinking that the plays will bring me back to NYC more and more, so I’ll deal with it. But seriously, it isn’t even the tourist season right now and it’s just wall to wall people.

I’m not sure yet how much of that meeting that I had yesterday is suitable for posting to the blog. I guess right now, the only thing I can say about it is that it was nothing like what I was expecting— in essence, the director hit the ground running, in terms of the things that will be coming quickly into place to begin getting the show off the ground. It was the start of a dream coming true, gang.

In the cab ride after the meeting, Sandra said, “Do you know how lucky you are? To have someone doing all this for your play?”

Yes, I do know. But it’s not luck. It’s a lot of prayer and it’s several years of paying really close attention to everything imaginable. 3 and a 1/2 years ago, I first saw a play he directed and I knew he was the director I wanted to work on Tell My Bones, which I hadn’t even adapted satisfactorily yet. Then it was all about connecting with him on social media; talking to him during the intermissions of every other play I saw that he directed.. Saying hello to him every single time I ever saw him anywhere, even though I knew he didn’t know me. Interrupting him at dinner once to tell him I was a writer. Then getting to know his significant other, meeting him for cocktails in NYC  and in Ohio , when the director was too busy. Then telling the significant other that Sandra and  I had a play I wanted the director to direct and, after he googled both me and Sandra, he said, “I’ll talk to him.” Finally, 3 years on, I emailed the director my script so that he could read it on an airplane because it was the only free moment he had….

I don’t really think of that as luck. It’s 3 and a 1/2 years of just staying incredibly focused. And also spending an enormous amount of time writing and rewriting and rewriting that play. But that aside — wow, gang. I could not be happier. We haven’t even raised one dime yet in production costs and yet he already has his game plan in place to get the play off the ground. By the time I came home from seeing Nick Cave last night,  I saw on my phone that the director was already beginning the social media campaign.

And that said!!

Wow, Nick Cave, gang. I am so glad I get the chance to see him again on Monday. It was so wonderful and the time just flew.  I will be up in the balcony on Monday so it won’t be the same but at least I’ll be there.  The venue last night was really just a fantastic place to see him In.  Sort of small. Great acoustics. Really comfortable. The reason why my 4th row Orchestra seat became the 7th row, is because 3 rows of seats were set up in the orchestra pit, since there was no orchestra last night. But it was still a great seat — and it wasn’t over to the side; it was dead center.

Anyway, it was just perfect. A totally perfect night. And his fans are really interesting people. I’m not saying that to flatter myself. But they really do seem to be a whole different type of person. A lot of foreigners were there. Really different fans, overall, from the old days. Still there’s also something about some of the old days that I kind of miss.

But I’m just so glad I got to go. I just love him so much.

Okay. At some point within the next 30 days, Edge of Humanity Magazine will publish my new installment of In the Shadow of Narcissa. I’ll keep you posted! And any day now, that excerpt of my new novel, Blessed By Light, will appear in the Exterminating Angel Press Magazine, so I’ll keep you posted about that, too.

And now I will scoot! I’m leaving you with a shot of my Airbnb room at dawn — my carry-on exploded. And then I did take one photo at Lincoln Center last night before the show started.

Have a wonderful (Nick Cave’s birthday) Sunday, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!

Dawn in the Airbnb. My little world exploded.
    Waiting for Nick Cave at Lincoln Center

A Big Money Pow Wow Kind of Day!

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.

Well, okay.

Thanks for visiting, gang!! Have a super Saturday, wherever you are in the world! I love you guys! See ya!

Early morning in the kitchen in Rhinebeck!


All Is Decidedly Well!

[UPDATE:  In the Shadow of Narcissa has updated. You can read it here! Thanks!]

(Now, back to the blog!)

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?”

”Nick Cave.”

”Oh, then who are you seeing at Lincoln Center?”

”Nick Cave.”

”Wait— you’re seeing that dude twice?”


“You must like him a lot.”

”I do.”

”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.

Thanks for visiting! I love you guys. See ya.

Looking down at the neighbor’s yard in Rhinebeck 6:30 am


Dawn Arrives in Rhinebeck

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!

View from the bed at dawn.