Tag Archives: Tell My Bones: The Helen LaFrance Story

Just Sewing Some Buttons Today…

April 26, 2020 marilyn jaye lewis 3 Comments

(Who knew sewing could be so sexy? It might even make this coronavirus look sexy…maybe we’ll find out — I’ve got some buttons around here that need re-attaching!!)

Alas, though, I actually got dressed here this morning. For a change, I am not in my chemise. I am in real clothes. For now, anyway.

It was one of those mornings where I woke up and felt like I was finally totally fine. But once I was actually out of bed and walking around… How long is this fucking breathing problem going to last? This virus just doesn’t quit.

Okay. Well. Happy Sunday!

It’s rainy here today but still really mild, so some windows are open and the cats are happy, so that means I’m happy, too!

So, yes, I got dressed and I’m planning to work at my desk for a while today. At least do some editing if not some actual writing. We’ll see how it goes. I really just want to be back to normal around here. It’s so frustrating.

However, there was more good news regarding the upcoming staged (taped) reading for Tell My Bones. I can’t really go into it on the blog yet, but I spoke with the director again yesterday and the call made me just unbelievably happy. I’m really just so blessed, gang.

And even amid this whole lockdown COVID 19 thing, I was able to get those updated Life Rights contracts signed by everyone and returned to me and options got paid and everything is moving ahead smoothly regarding the play. Just weird, right? Things still got done, even though I was basically in bed for 3 weeks straight.

Oh, and yesterday, more new luggage arrived! This was a 3-piece set. Heavy duty luggage this time. The kind with the hard outer shell and large enough that you could go away for a couple of weeks.

If you are new to the blog, back before I bought this current house, I rented a friend’s house for almost 2 years. And had to put most of my life into storage. When I was cleaning out the old house, I was in a very bad mental state, and a lot of things I wanted to put into storage accidentally went off to Goodwill instead.

Once I got settled down into this house and had to start traveling again, I discovered that I had absolutely no luggage. None. At all. It had been given away to charity by mistake. I had one small flight bag to my name. So, little by little, I’ve been replacing stuff. Overhead carry-ons, under-seat carry-ons, and now actual luggage. So I’m set.

It was pretty exciting when the stuff arrived yesterday because it made me feel as though, one of these days, I actually won’t have the virus any longer, and the theater stuff will be happening in NYC again and not on Zoom, and the film stuff will be moving ahead again in LA, and I will be traveling again. Yay.

Here’s some more exciting news — a new documentary about Johnny Cash’s first wife, Vivian, will be streaming free on Amazon for one week, beginning this Tuesday, April 28th. The film, My Darling Vivian, told by their 4 daughters, has gotten incredibly terrific reviews. I can’t wait to see it!

My Darling Vivian - Cleveland International Film Festival :: April ... — Johnny and Vivian Cash at home with 2 of their daughters

She’s another one of those first wives whose reputation in the minds of the public has been seriously tarnished by the PR machine. Apparently, this documentary undoes all that damage. I can only imagine, you know — during that whole first marriage, while he was getting famous and traveling constantly, he also did just an enormous amount of drugs & drinking. Just off the charts. That first marriage must have been just unbelievably difficult.( I guess we’ll find out on Tuesday.)

(He had his demons, for sure, though — if you’ve read any of his memoirs. For one thing, he had an older brother whom he idolized, who got killed early on in a horrible accident at a saw mill– basically got cut in half.)

When Johnny married June Carter, later in his career, he sobered up and found Jesus. (Which was great, because a lot of us were looking for Jesus and didn’t know where he was — but Johnny found him. It turned out, he was right where we’d last left him– in that top drawer in the kitchen, right next to the stove!) (Okay. Just kidding.)

All righty. I’m gonna scoot. I really, really hope to get some actual work done here today. Even if it’s just a little tiny bit of editing. It would feel so good!

I hope you are enjoying your Sunday, wherever you are in the world! As far as music goes, I’ve still been just watching Bad Seeds TeeVee around here. And since I tend to prefer listening to audio tracks and not watching “official videos,” there are a ton of Bad Seeds videos out there that I’d never seen. It’s been very fun. There was even one in clay-mation with 3 Barbie doll/mermaids that was just too cool!! Just unbelievable stuff. However, I will leave you with a very early Johnny Cash televised performance from 1958 here this morning. Enjoy, gang! Stay well!! I love you guys. See ya!

Help Me!! Please!!

April 24, 2020 marilyn jaye lewis Leave a comment

Okay, now this totally sucks!!

There is now a 24 hour Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds stream on YouTube. And it’s totally addicting. (Bad Seeds TeeVee). I have stuff I need to do, you know? I need to lie around and stare out the window and sometimes read. I have to scroll mindlessly through silly cat & dog videos on TikTok. I have to scroll through Instagram. Watch 9-minute episodes of “Agua Donkeys” on Quibi.

In fact, I even have to write this blog post and I keep switching over to the window that is now always running Bad Seeds TeeVee…

I can already see that this is sort of going to become a problem.

All right. I paused it.

Good news on the Amish front! He is coming next week to discuss my roof options and then we will proceed from there. (I can’t decide whether I want another metal roof, or a shingle roof.) I am so excited, gang! A new roof on my barn. Finally. After two years of living here, already. God bless those high winds that removed segments of my roof for me and blew them off into my backyard, or I would probably have just kept putting it off.

Plus, last week, from one of my bedroom windows, I watched a house across the street get a beautiful new roof. And I mean, it is a beautiful roof. And the roofers did it in under two days. And I just sort of watched their speedy progress, and I watched the gorgeous roof become a reality. And I thought to myself, Oh god, that is what I need for my barn! I have got to do something about this. Where are the Amish when you need them?!

Of course, my barn is the fraction of the size of a house. It’s a small horse & buggy barn. The side where the horse used to be kept is now more of a garage, but the insides of the barn are exactly as they were when it was built in 1910.

The side that was meant for the buggy is where I want to put together a sort of potting shed. I store all my gardening stuff in there in a sort of heap right now (including my beloved rake (!!) which I am going to have to actually use once I can safely start moving around again). The raccoons got in there during the winter and pushed through some of the wooden slats of the outside wall. They didn’t actually do any damage, they just loosened the boards. So it has to be fixed up a little bit, but I am getting there. Finally. And I am super excited!! I love that barn.

I am now on Day 4 of feeling almost better. In fact, yesterday, since I went into town to get groceries, I obviously got dressed and then I stayed dressed for the entire day. That was the first time in 21 days that I actually was able to stay out of bed for the whole day. So I am indeed getting better.

I am sure hoping this breathing problem is not going to last for the rest of my life. It feels like it will, though. It’s a little discouraging.

My biological dad lost half of one of his lungs in the Vietnam War. He was injured on a flame thrower during a skirmish on the Mekong Delta. And especially in the mornings, he had trouble breathing. I always think about that now and I wonder how he stood it for all those years. (Plus, he kept right on smoking. I can’t even imagine it.)

Well, exciting news on the Tell My Bones front, regarding the staged reading now moving to the Zoom platform. The director and I had another long chat on the phone this morning, regarding his ideas and some technical people he wants to bring on board. I am feeling really positive about it. I’m going to have to do some minor editing to the script — just to scale it back for a reading. No actual rewrites. But I am pleased to announce that I will not be involved in any of the on-camera stuff for the Zoom reading. The director will handle all the on-camera stage directions, background info, etc.

I have no problems being on an actual stage, but I hate to be photographed, and even worse — I hate being on video in any way. I just can’t stand it. It makes me nuts. So I feel doubly excited that this reading can get pulled together with my staying completely in the background. It is a huge relief to me.

And all of that stuff is going to start coming together this weekend. Isn’t that insane, how quickly things get pulled together? (We still don’t have any actors yet besides Sandra. I just mean the technical stuff is going to be pulled together over the weekend.)

Well, I guess that’s kind of it. It’s Friday, which is usually an Abstract Absurdity Productions day, but we haven’t worked in over a week, so I don’t know if we’ll work today or not. I just sort of leave it up to Peitor right now. And of course eventually, I’m going to have to get back to working on that website — which technically I can do now, since I no longer have to stay in bed all day.

Okay, well! I’m gonna scoot. I hope your Friday is a good one, all things considered, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with my breakfast-listening music. I am a huge fan of all the early Emmylou Harris records. I know them backwards & forwards; every note, every nuance. She sang with some incredible musicians back then; worked with incredible songwriters. “If I Could Only Win Your Love” is an old song, written by the Louvin Brothers. It was on her Pieces of the Sky album, from 1975. Enjoy, gang. She sings like a country angel!! Okay. I love you guys. See ya.

“If I Could Only Win Your Love”

If I could only win your love
I’d make the most of everything
I’d proudly wear your wedding ring
My heart would never stray when you’re away

If I could only win your love
I’d give my all to make it live
You’ll never know how much I’d give
If I could only win your love

Oh how can I ever say
How I crave your love when you’re gone away
Oh how can I ever show
How I burn inside when you hold me tight

If I could only win your love
I’d give my all to make it live
You’ll never know how much I’d give
If I could only win your love

Oh how can I ever say
How I crave your love when your gone away
Oh how can I ever show
How I burn inside when you hold me tight

If I could only win your love
I’d give my all to make it live
You’ll never know how much I give
If I could only win your love

An Awesome Adventure

April 23, 2020 marilyn jaye lewis Leave a comment

Yes! I left home this morning! I drove into town and bought groceries.

My breathing is better than yesterday, so this makes 3 days in a row when I haven’t gone in reverse with this virus. I’m still trying not to push my luck, or anything. But it was great to go into town and buy food.

AND!!! On the drive home, I saw an eagle! I don’t know if it was a golden eagle or a young bald eagle, because they sort of have similar coloring. It was sitting high up in a tree that didn’t have any leaves yet. And I was driving by on the highway, so it was just impossible to really tell. But, boy, was it an eagle! I was so excited.

And then, when I got home from the store, a neighbor came by and asked me if I wanted him to cut my (still horrible) grass. He charges less than my usual lawn guys, who still haven’t gotten back to me about when they’re coming out here. I texted them yet again. So we’ll see. I might be saving money on lawn care this summer.

AND!! I found an Amish guy who can likely fix the roof of my barn!!

Honestly, do days get better than this?? I don’t think so.

Last night, I heard from both Sandra (the actress in NY that I write theater projects with) and the director of Tell My Bones, who is here in the Hinterlands until the end of August. And it looks like we are going to be doing the staged reading of the play on Zoom, rather than waiting indefinitely to mount it in real life in NYC. So that is a huge switch-a-roo, But on we go, right? I’m just trying to stay adaptable.

The last time I made the drive into town was before I got the virus, back when the dogwoods were all in bloom. Well, now it’s the fruit trees everywhere, blooming. And around this part of Ohio, there are a lot of crabapple trees, which I just love. There are a number of different varieties, but they essentially look like this, in case you’ve never seen one (and the older trees get really huge; not tall but really wide):

I just love them. And today, they were everywhere.

Oh, and the gas price in town is now $1.49 a gallon. I have no idea what the heck that price even means, you know? It just keeps getting cheaper. So I stopped and got gas for the car, too.

Okay. Well, I’m super hungry and my morning is now entirely gone so I’m going to go down to the kitchen and make some lunch!

I hope you guys are having a great Thursday, wherever you are in the world. I might check in again later, I don’t know. Meanwhile, thanks for visiting. I leave you with my “driving to town song” from today. It’s from the 2003 Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds album, Nocturama — which I don’t hate. It has a number of songs on it that I really like, including this one (I actually love this one) — “He Wants You.” So enjoy. Stay healthy. Stay socially distant!! Don’t watch the news more than once a day! And keep wishing for those things your heart desires, because they come true!! (I mean, honestly, when was the last time you wished for an Amish guy to fix the roof of your barn and then found one??!!) (And other beautiful desires come true, too.)

Okay. I love you guys. See ya!!

“He Wants You”

In his boat and through the dark he rowed
Chained to oar and the night and the wind that blowed
Horribly ’round his ears
Under the bridge and into your dreams he soars
While you lie alone in that idea-free sleep of yours
That you’ve been sleeping now for years

And he wants you
He wants you
He is straight and he is true
Ooh hoo hoo

Beneath the hanging cliffs and under the many stars where
He will move, all amongst your tangled hair
And deep into the sea
And you will wake and walk and draw the blind
And feel some presence there behind
And turn to see what that may be
Oh, babe, it’s me

And he wants you
He wants you
He is straight and he is true
Ooh hoo hoo

You’re Not the Boss of Me!!

March 18, 2020 marilyn jaye lewis 4 Comments

Just no way do you get to tell me what to fucking do! Yay!

That’s pretty much the attitude of most of the people who live in Ohio, which is of course why so many people (moi aussi) continued to congregate in groups way larger than 50 until the Governor had to step in and issue actual mandates that forced people (like me) to not only stay home but to not even be allowed to vote. Wow. Talk about getting your privileges suspended…

So when the number of confirmed cases of the virus basically doubled overnight in the State, it was not a surprise to me at all, not in any way whatsoever, so I have to wonder how come “officials” found this leap “startling”?

I love when the “people in charge” have no real clue what the “people they are in charge of” are doing.

(A good example of that, you know, was when Trump won the Presidency. A lot of people in Ohio voted for him. I know it won’t shake you to your very core to learn that I did not vote for Trump. But, still, he won. And in my opinion, he’s the President of the United States. Because people voted for him. I know for a fact that they did. And it’s why I’m so sick of the Democrats because they spent the past 4 years submerged in this infantile outcry, stamping their little feet, wasting everybody’s time & money, trying to remove him from his elected position, rather than spending all that time & money making America great again in ways that were more in keeping with their own beliefs about America.) (Which is why, in my opinion, America is a great country– you’re legally allowed to have whatever opinion you want and you’re allowed to publicly say whatever you want to about the President without fearing for your very life and liberty. And it’s odd how so many people who are not Democrats tend to see that fact really clearly and so they continue to vote in that direction.)

Anyway. No one has died from Covid 19 yet in the State of Ohio. But we are up to 67 confirmed cases. Way more than Kentucky and Indiana have, combined. So, on we go.

It will, alas, perhaps come as no surprise to you to learn that my table-read in NYC for Tell My Bones has ground to a thorough and complete halt. So much so, that the director of my play texted me last night to say he was flying back to Ohio first thing this morning to spend the Spring and Summer here in his mansion on the hill. He will be here until late August, just to get clear of NYC and the virus there. (Here in Muskingum County and also in the county where the director has his other home, there are so far no known cases of the virus.)

So the table-read in April is one less thing I have to do. And then that Literary Arts Fair in June that I backed out of because of planning to go to Zurich to make new friends and see Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, means two less things that I have to do.

And of course I scan the Nick Cave web site daily for any indication whatsoever that he might be postponing the European start of the Ghosteen Tour, and so far he his hanging tough — the only one in the world who is, actually. But that might be a third thing I won’t be doing this Spring/Summer if he does end up postponing the tour.

And of course the meeting with the TV streaming platform for Abstract Absurdity Productions in LA has been postponed until after the international quarantine is lifted. So that’s another thing that I won’t be doing this Spring. Although, for now, the film shoots will still be happening in Los Angeles this summer.

Sandra called last night and we chatted for quite awhile. Yesterday, the production of “Chicago” that she’s been rehearsing up in Stratford, Canada got closed down and so she will be back in Rhinebeck by Monday. (So, now that her schedule will be indescribably free for the table-read of Tell My Bones, there isn’t going to be one until the Fall.)

The only thing that remains in place for me, career-wise, is that our other play is still slated for production in Canada at the end of this year. And this sudden freed-up schedule for both Sandra and me, means that we can tackle some of those massive re-writes for that other play. And we’re both feeling really excited about that. We’ll probably just do it on Skype; I’m not planning to go back to NYC now before the Fall. But I’m still feeling really excited about getting back to work with her on that play.

So, all those things that I was worrying about having to do all at once, have now basically entirely disappeared.

And now all I have in front of me yet again is time to sit at my desk and write.

I made some progress with my broken heart during the night. Turned a little corner. Release people to what they need in their own lives and just open up my strange little path and embrace whatever comes along on it.

I’m not able to stop loving someone once I love them, but I am able to find a different place for it inside and then keep going.

Listening to the Bee Gees of course while you have a broken heart is never a good idea. We all know this. It is a documented fact that it only makes your heart break more. And yet, I guess I’m an Ohio girl after all, because I’ve been listening to the Bee Gees “How Can You Mend A Broken Heart” pretty much non-stop for a few days. (That’s correct: No one in the universe is the boss of me. I will listen to the Bee Gees if I so choose!!!)

You know, I don’t ever want to be Albatross-y to anyone, least of all, to someone I love. So I have been trying really hard to keep myself contained (in a non-Covid 19 type of way, of course, because when it comes to the virus, I want to be sure to interact closely with everyone imaginable, until the Governor himself steps in and says, “No, no, no! Bad dog!! Bad, bad dog!! Now you have to stay in your little pen and you don’t get to vote!!”).

Anyway. I’m trying to sublimate whatever I’m feeling and turn it into something that can have it’s own beauty and go out into the world in other, more acceptable ways. It’s why I’m a writer, I guess.

And last night, lights out. Dark bedroom. Shattered little heart that I was trying once more to get a grip on. Suddenly, loud and plain as day, I hear singing — music. It was so familiar to me. But it was coming from somewhere inside me.

And I thought: What is that? I know that song.

And I suddenly realized it was the chorus from Tom Petty’s song, “You & Me.” Which happens to be the last song that Tom Petty actually listened to before he died. (According to his wife, Dana, who was there with him on the bed, watching the video on YouTube, and then later he had the heart attack and did not recover.)

But it’s also a song that I really love and that man who died a couple of summers ago used to indulge me and even while he also liked Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers a lot (he was older than me, but we were in the same generation, music-wise). Anyway, we played Tom Petty songs almost exclusively while he was here in this very room with me, making a whole lot of love (before he, too, died).

So “You & Me” is a powerhouse of potential heartbreak for me, but when I suddenly realized that it was the song coming through the ether to me last night, I grabbed my phone from the night table and streamed “You & Me” on repeat. And almost instantaneously, the energy, spirit, whatever you call it, of the now-dead guy that I loved was all over me. There was so much joy. It was like a tidal wave of it, all over me in that bed.

I knew he was with me. I could almost see him, you know? Almost. And he was just filled with joy and I couldn’t help but be swept up into it, too. And even though I don’t actually “hear” voices, I feel his voice pretty loudly inside me. I can hear/feel the words. They were undeniably him and he told me stuff that was just filled with love. So much love. And he also said, “You gotta leave that guy alone now, Marilyn. Remember the boundaries.”

He actually said that. And then I fell dead asleep — if you’ll excuse the weird pun. At one point, I remember that I turned off the music on my phone. But I slept 8 whole hours. I haven’t done that in a couple of weeks, really.

So I’m feeling better, you know? Love in the Time of Cholera and all that aside — I am feeling better. And so on we go, right, gang?

You know of course what I am leaving you with today! Enjoy it. Celebrate it. Rejoice, even. Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya!

“You And Me”

Take a look
At what I got
I can’t promise
You a lot

But you and me
And the road ahead

I can’t save
You from yourself
You gotta want it
All that’s left

Is you and me
And the road ahead

Wherever that wind might blow
Wherever that river rolls
You know I will go with you

Lookin’ over
The mountain’s crown
The water roars
And tumbles down

Like you and me
And the road ahead

Wherever that wind might blow
Wherever that river rolls
You know I will go with you

Just you and me
And the road ahead

Yay!! Shadow Puppets!!

March 10, 2020 marilyn jaye lewis Leave a comment

Until that French gal’s shadow puppet caught my eye, I was actually going to lead with a cute little image like this because it’s raining here today:

But shadow puppets are just so much better, right, gang??!!

Right!!

Okay, so guess what?

Loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that toward the end of 2019 and into the beginning of 2020, I was hard at work, fixing that character arc for the supporting female character in my play, Tell My Bones. And that once I finally nailed it — adding a new song and some Jim Crow themes about lynchings and slave auctions — I had a distinct impression that Sandra was going to switch gears (after all these years of my adapting this play for her) and want to play the supporting role instead of the lead role.

I knew that the new material for that supporting role had become just a real standout kind of thing.

So last night, here comes a text from the director of the play. He’d gotten a phone call from Sandra, who’s in rehearsals for something else right now up in Stratford, Canada, and she’s read the new version of the play now and she said that she wants that supporting role.

Obviously, I’m not surprised. And I’m not upset or anything at all like that. Just sort of interesting what happened with that supporting character, isn’t it?

For Sandra to go from a lead role, that also means being at the helm of 6 songs, to a supporting role with only one song. That’s kind of a strong statement, isn’t it?

Meanwhile, the Coronavirus might delay the table-read in NYC in April. I’m still waiting to hear. (And I’m of course still wondering about that Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds tour that starts in Europe next month. As most of Italy tries to go on lock-down. And I saw this morning that Coachella is maybe going to postpone itself until the fall. I guess we’ll just see.) (I also saw that someone I follow on Instagram & on WordPress, posted that Coachella should postpone itself until it stops sucking.) (rrreow!!!)

Too funny. Okay.

Anyway. Back to me!

Today is all about Abstract Absurdity Productions. Again. It’s insane, how often it comes around now. (My idea, of course, to meet more frequently.) (My idea to start the whole darn production company…) And that handy schedule I created for getting that web site launched by April 1st is not exactly my friend. Every so often, I stop and wonder: Hmmm. Web site –shit! I gotta launch that thing in a couple of weeks! I still have no fucking clue what I’m doing!

So that’s cool. God knows I need more stress in my life. Every damn day. I am trying, though, gang. You know, to stay on top of things. (And to stop suggesting new things.)

If I hear myself say one more time, “You know what I was thinking?” I’m going to scream. Enough thinking already, Marilyn. Jesus. Just stop.

Well, the weather has been inching its way into Spring here. Last night, I slept with one of my bedroom windows open just a crack. And then all these little cat faces kept trying to press their little noses into that space and get some real air. Finally. After 6 months of having all the windows totally closed.

And I’ve been able to lower the heat a couple degrees, too.

Oh, and even though I still have the flannel sheets and two blankets on the bed, I slept in my little black chemise again last night!! I got super tired of looking at the Christmas PJs when I woke up in the morning. They just had to go. Winter is over & done and Spring is as good as here!

And next week — yay!! Cat birthdays all around!! Huckleberry and Tommy turn 8, and everyone else turns 7. (Except me, of course — I’ll still be 12.) (Wow, soon enough my cats are going to be older than me. That’s going to be so weird!)

[Sad UPDATE: My sweet little boy cat, Weenie — my last remaining male cat — is showing signs of kidney problems. The same thing his daddy died from last Spring. No more treats for this little guy.]

All righty. I’m going to finish up the laundry here and then get started on Thug Luckless until it’s time to work with Peitor on the final scene of “Lita måste gå!” (aka “Lita’s Got to Go!”). Have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang. I have nothing to leave you with today because I am still listening to “The Boy in the Bubble” and “Something’s Gotten Hold of My Heart.” So, instead, I’ll just leave you with this: a tender nursery rhyme from somebody’s wee bonny girlhood (not mine, for a change)! Enjoy it, regardless. I love you guys. See ya!!

“Even the Orchestra is Beautiful!!”

February 21, 2020 marilyn jaye lewis Leave a comment

The above is one of the opening lines from the musical, Cabaret:

M.C. (with great irony and a heavy German accent): “In here, life iz beautiful! Za gurls are beautiful! Even za orchestra iz beautiful!”

And that’s sort of how I feel about today! Only without the irony (I still keep the heavy German accent though — in my head, anyway).

Gus Van Sant Sr has a birthday in a few days, so I went outside first thing this morning and walked across the road to stick his birthday card in the mailbox, and even though it was quite cold out and frost was everywhere, guess what?! The birds are back! They were out there singing!

I would not have known this had I not ventured forth into the frozen dawn, still in my jammies & flip-flops!

What a blessing, right? To be rewarded with that reminder that Spring is on its way. And those happy words came to me (without the irony but with the German accent): Even za orchestra iz beautiful!!

So.

Yesterday was a little intense. I did not get to work on Thug Luckless much at all, because more legal stuff came up re: Tell My Bones and I had to deal with that, and with trying to re-write even more legal documents without losing my fucking mind.

ME (on the phone, not really saying this, only thinking it): “Just give me the rights to my fucking play! Fuck all this other shit! That’s all I fucking care about right now, you fucking assholes! We’re going into table-reads in New York in a few fucking weeks here and you’ve had years to object to this other shit! I’ve already gone above the industry standards on these fucking options and these percentages and at this rate, I’m not going to see any fucking money from this thing until I’m 72 and half years old! For Christ’s fucking sake! Fuck!!”

ME (what I really said, in my nice-Ohio-girl voice, wherein I actually do sound 12): ” Oh I see. Sure. I understand. Let me just make a phone call, okay? And see if I can work on maybe just re-wording this document a little bit because, you know, I’ve given you all of my babysitting money already. So, um. Would that be all right?”

Jesus.

That aside, though. I slept great last night because I had been reading an email from someone that I don’t even know, and I believe that people really are beautiful. They just fucking are. You know, we all have our little roadmaps that we follow in life, trying our best to find our way through whatever is thrown at us. And I think it’s so beautiful how most people just keep trying and keep tweaking that map, maybe, but they find their way. (Me included, of course. God knows.)

And I did oversleep a little bit this morning because, deep down in my subconscious, I knew my script work with Peitor today wasn’t going to begin until this afternoon because he has to go to the eye doctor. And I also knew that I didn’t want to do Booty Core this morning, either — I wanted to take a break. And my bed felt so cozy and I was breathing great because I’d finally changed the furnace filter and everything just felt so perfect in my little world, that I decided to oversleep! And so I did! And then I was still up early enough to hear the birds singing. In February.

Sort of a joyful start to a morning, right? And I’m going to try really hard to make today’s script session better than it was on Tuesday.

I’m still not sure if the tension was coming from me, or not, but I do know that I was upset about that whole Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds North American tour thing that day but I wasn’t talking about it with Peitor because he gets really tired of hearing about Nick Cave. (I know — how weird, right?! He even says stuff, like, “Marilyn, could you please focus? We’re trying to work here.”)

(Although, to be fair, it’s probably not easy having a business partner who’s only 12 — ME: “I found another ladybug today! Oh, and I saw a hoverfly on my kitchen window! And I rescued him in a Kleenex and I put him outside and he just flew away, he really soared. He seemed so happy!” PEITOR: “I’m sure he was. Can we look at scene 5?”)

However!! Now, because of the overwhelming kindness of complete strangers, that whole issue regarding Nick Cave has not only evaporated, it has become this truly amazing thing! This gift in my life.

So. I’m just feeling really good about today. And I probably can’t work on Thug Luckless today, either, because I still have to work on rewriting the legal stuff for the play. But I did realize yesterday, that the atmosphere I’m visualizing for P-Town feels a lot like that comic book, Fell, written by (the other) Warren Ellis & Ben Templesmith. It began in late 2005. I’m not a comic book fan, but I always really loved that one — that series. I actually have never met anybody who was familiar with that comic book, but I just loved it.

And so I got out all those FELL comic books and sort of flipped through them again. And still just loved it.

(Which, in a round about way, reminds me that the guy who turned 18 the other day, and I bought him a lighter? He’s becoming a Navy SEAL. Which is sort of jaw-dropping to me, because — I’ve never told him this, or anything — but he really reminds me of my father, my birth dad. For one thing, he’s always singing these songs that were huge hits back during the Vietnam War, and yet this kid is only 18. But it’s one of the reasons I feel so drawn to the guy’s personality — he seems so much like my dad. And, of course, my birth dad was a Navy SEAL, in Vietnam. It was another one of those things that stopped me dead in my tracks and made me wonder: who are we, really? You know? What are human beings beyond this constant transference of energy, of beingness?? That just keeps recycling and expanding and never ending. Wow.)

So on that note!! I better get going here. Have a great Friday, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with the opening song from the movie version of Cabaret, “Willkommen”. (It includes the quote from up above — and if you’ve never been exposed to this film, this opening song here will give you an excellent idea of what you’re getting into when watching it. I was actually 12 when I saw this movie and was blown away by it. My adoptive mother was with me, though, and her being Jewish, well, she was very disturbed by the whole movie, and understandably so. But anyway. It is now a classic.)

All righty. I love you guys. See ya!!

Off We Go!! Or Maybe Not!!

February 17, 2020 marilyn jaye lewis 3 Comments

I have been trying to get to this blog post for, like, hours. I keep getting distracted. By weird stuff.

You know how your mind will just follow all these weird thought-currents and you don’t even realize you’re doing it? And you’re sort of puttering, too? And everything’s getting to be just a big sort of tangled up ball of thought-strings as you’re puttering far from your computer??

Yes, that’s me. Almost always, frankly — but this morning it seems to be more pronounced. Because I’m finally just sitting down to blog, one and a half hours later than I usually do, and I haven’t actually done anything different today.

I woke up at 5am — and this is truly weird for me — thinking about the Pink Floyd song “Shine On You Crazy Diamond.”

I do not care for Pink Floyd. And the only song of theirs that I actually ever liked was “Shine On You Crazy Diamond.” But I think it could have been greatly enhanced by being 3 minutes long instead of over thirteen minutes long…. but that’s just me. (Yes, I miss the entire point of Pink Floyd’s music. I’m okay with that, though.)

To me, Pink Floyd was always “boys music.” All the boys loved Pink Floyd, but I didn’t know a single girl who owned a Pink Floyd record (including me).

But I laid there in the dark, wondering why I was singing “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” immediately upon awakening. I hadn’t thought of that song in probably 47 years. (Actually, I think that means I hadn’t thought of the song until well before it was written.) Still. Long time.

Then I realized, well, I was in the mental hospital the first time I heard that song. Maybe that’s why I was thinking about it. I googled the lyrics and thought, “Well, it is a cool song so that’s probably why I liked it. Still, it’s way too long….”

And then I remembered that a really, really long-time girlfriend of mine, from my wee bonny girlhood in Cleveland, dated David Gilmour briefly. They met in an airport, during some sort of bad-weather layover. Boston, I think. This was somewhere in the 1980s. I think. I can’t remember. But she was/is really beautiful. At that point in her life, she was a very successful fashion designer for Pierre Cardin in NYC. She got me my first job in NYC, actually, so I was able to move there and have a job waiting for me — I was a receptionist for a really successful menswear designer. (Not Pierre Cardin.) And I worked in the Empire State Building and I sat at a big desk behind big glass doors with gold lettering on them. And I was fresh from Ohio, mind you. Right off the boat, as it were (although I arrived in an airplane…)

In those days, I have to keep stressing that we didn’t even have something like MTV yet — it wasn’t even close to existing. The world was still an enormous place — it got much smaller and much more global with cable TV. And especially with MTV.

It used to take forever for current fashions to reach the Midwest because we had no real frame of reference for information to travel quickly. Ohio was always a couple years behind the fashions of either coast. And NYC, in particular, was intensely haute couture. So there I sat, behind those huge glass doors, at that big desk, at a hugely successful fashion design company, in my Ohio dresses that were outdated by a couple of years.

I couldn’t afford to buy any new clothes yet because NYC was incredibly expensive. It was hard on me, emotionally, because I was only 20 and, you know, those things like “what you wear” matter a lot when you’re 20.

Well, I quickly learned everything about the fashion designing business and I thought it was super cut-throat and mean and diabolical and fake and just awful. And was I terrible at my job. Just abysmal. They fired me after 6 months, but I hated that job and that world and I was super excited to get fired, so, you know, “don’t cry for me, Argentina,” or anything.

However. I think David Gilmour was a bit of a heavy imbiber/recreational drug-sort-of user back then, and so my girlfriend didn’t really hit it off with him too well and stopped seeing him pretty much right away.

But I do find it exceedingly interesting that his current wife, Polly, is a dead ringer for how my girlfriend looked. It’s uncanny, really — how similar they look.

None of this is leading to anything, though, because this is just an example of all the strange stuff going on in my head this morning. And I still have no clue why I was singing that song when I woke up.

And I did fall back to sleep, btw. And had a couple of those sort of astral projection type dreams. I don’t usually have those. But when I do, I only astrally project within my house. I don’t travel anywhere else. So that’s weird, right? Why go to all this trouble to leave your body and then just go sit at your kitchen table? You can (and do) do this while you’re awake…

So that’s a big question mark, too, this morning: Why on Earth do I do the things I do?

Well, who knows. So.

The director of Tell My Bones is set to call here momentarily, to begin the discussions for getting the table read in NYC underway. So that’s exciting, but it’s also making my tummy a little nervous. I’m so glad I don’t have to cast that thing. Seriously. It makes me a little anxious. Let’s just do some sort of creative visualization (meaning: right now, you & me) that everyone who’s incredibly and astoundingly talented will just show up and be there. And then all I have to do is show up and be there, too.

You know, strategies like that have actually worked well for me. So I’m gonna stick with it.

Meanwhile. I’m gonna get moving here!! It’s been such a weird morning. But thanks for visiting. I hope Monday is all you’re hoping it will be and then some! I’m leaving you with my theme song! I think they’re gonna play this when they bury me (or enshrine me or something like that)… All righty. I love you guys. See ya.

“Don’t Cry For Me Argentina”

It won’t be easy, you’ll think it strange
When I try to explain how I feel
That I still need your love after all that I’ve done

You won’t believe me
All you will see is a girl you once knew
Although she’s dressed up to the nines
At sixes and sevens with you

I had to let it happen, I had to change
Couldn’t stay all my life down at heel
Looking out of the window, staying out of the sun

So I chose freedom
Running around, trying everything new
But nothing impressed me at all
I never expected it to

Don’t cry for me Argentina
The truth is I never left you
All through my wild days
My mad existence
I kept my promise
Don’t keep your distance

And as for fortune, and as for fame
I never invited them in
Though it seemed to the world they were all I desired

They are illusions
They are not the solutions they promised to be
The answer was here all the time
I love you and hope you love me

Don’t cry for me Argentina
The truth is I never left you
All through my wild days
My mad existence
I kept my promise
Don’t keep your distance

c – 1976 Andrew Lloyd Webber, Tim Rice

It’s So Fucking Hard to be Good!

February 13, 2020 marilyn jaye lewis Leave a comment

(Yes, yes, I know — it’s so fucking good to be hard, too. But we’re not going there! This is a tasteful blog!!) (I know, like — since when??)

Anyway. I digress already!!

Last night, at the Rowland S. Howard Pop Crimes tribute in London, Nick Cave sang “Shivers” and it was so fucking amazing. I am so serious. His voice was incredible. The song sounded so beautiful.

I wasn’t there, obviously. I was toiling away for hours, here at my mini-desk in Crazeysburg, working on Girl in the Night. But people who actually were there began posting to Instagram right away. Even Nick Cave’s wife posted to Instagram right away — a 59 second video of him singing. (Yeah, I know — I was kinda thinking: really? you think you ought to be doing that? setting that kind of an example and all?) Still, I was indescribably grateful because the song sounded so fucking good.

I knew it had to be on YouTube somewhere — the complete performance of that song. And I hate supporting that kind of thing because, in America anyway, that is a total violation of all sorts of copyrights. It’s not an American song, or an American performance, and probably not an American uploading it to YouTube, so I don’t know the actual laws on that, but still. I don’t like to support that kind of thing. However, I did find it immediately and I did listen to it twice.

Jesus, it was so good. It made me feel so happy — Nick Cave’s voice has never sounded better. Really. I feel certain that Rowland S. Howard was smiling all over that performance.

Well, regarding the new segments of Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse. If you’ve read them, you’ll see that they are indeed quite different from the other segments of the book. I’m not sure why they came out that way, but they did.

I know that some of the guys and gals I met in the mental hospital will reappear in a later “Letter” and it will likely be more graphic in nature — I fell in love in the hospital, but I also did have a ton of sex in that place (and I never got caught, even though a few times, it was by the skin of my teeth, as they say. A lot of the other kids in there did get caught having sex, and when that happened, the Administration came down really hard. There was really hell to pay then, because the hospital was legally obligated to tell the parents, and so then the parents got involved and you can just imagine how awful that was for the teenagers. Anyway. I never got caught.).

(Oh, and there was this one girl in there that I really just hated and she hated me. And she was so jealous that I was having all that oral sex with the blue-eyed blond boy — and he was really cute and he did really excel at his, well, craft or whatever. But that girl was so jealous that she finally convinced him, behind my back, to have sex with her, too. But for some reason, she actually had intercourse with him. And then she told me. Because she wanted to hurt my feelings. And it hurt like crazy — although I wasn’t a big fan of intercourse and couldn’t really imagine why she thought that was better than having oral sex because, I’ll tell you, that boy was good at it. But, regardless. Me being that easy- breezy 1967-type of no-strings gal (see the recent Glen Campbell post and “Gentle on My Mind”), I tried to act like I wasn’t really, really hurt by this. Well, then…as God would have it… the girl’s Fallopian tubes swelled up! It got really bad. So they made her go to the gynecologist, too, and he of course, discerned that she’d been having intercourse and she got into HUGE trouble. Just huge. Because they told her parents and her dad was a freaking minister. Seventh Day Adventist, to boot. Really strict and conservative, and she got into so much trouble; she was put on room arrest and all her privileges were taken away. And then some other female-organ complication ensued wherein she had to have an enema, too. Poor thing. I was de-lighted.)

Okay, anyway.

For whatever reason, #6 & 7 are just really different segments of the book. And I’m going to let them stand as they are, because that’s how they wanted to come out.

Well, it is continuing to snow here — like, for real. Snow everywhere, and it’s accumulating. So that’s really nice. I love snow.

And yesterday afternoon, Wayne finally called me from NYC to tell me he loved the new version of Tell My Bones and he didn’t see anything wrong at all with the ending.

So I guess I’m signing off on it. And moving forward. It’s such a weird feeling. I know that more tweaks will happen as the readings and the rehearsals and then the play itself is actually underway, still, for now, the play is done. And it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around that because I’ve been working on this theatrical adaptation of Tell My Bones since 2016.

Plus, it also means, we are indeed finally moving forward. Wow. Exciting. I know that some really talented people are going to get pulled into these roles — I just know it.

Well, today, I’m going to get back to In the Shadow of Narcissa. While researching more potential small presses to send Blessed By Light to (in the event I ever hear back from any of the other publishers I queried and they decline it), I did notice quite a few chapbook publishing options for a book like Narcissa. So that was cool. And yesterday, I got a really nice comment from an online reader, and it sort of solidified for me that, even though Narcissa is getting emotionally difficult for me to write, it will be a really, really good thing to keep moving forward with it. So I’m going to get back to that today.

Before I close, Wayne told me the coolest story yesterday. In NYC, a lot of people sell used books on the street as a way to make money. And over a year ago, Wayne bought a hard cover edition of Chuck Berry’s Autobiography. The guy selling it only wanted two dollars, even though Wayne offered to give him more than that because it was a hard cover. But all the guy wanted was two dollars.

So Wayne gave him the two dollars and then took the book home, set it on a coffee table and then, over a year later, finally decides he wants to read it. He opens the book and it’s not only a first edition, but it’s signed by Chuck Berry. And not only is it signed by him, but there’s also a personal inscription because Chuck Berry apparently actually knew the guy who was buying the book.

So, wow. That was a really cool thing to get for two dollars. But then, as Wayne is reading the book, in small chunks, on subways and on city buses, etc., he was then in the Union Club yesterday, on Park Avenue, still reading the book and suddenly a $50 bill falls out from between some of the back pages! And he was, like, “Where the hell did that come from?” So he flips through the back pages of the book and there was a ton of money in it! Over $200 in 50s and 20s!! And it had been sitting like that in the apartment of over a year.

And on top of all that — Wayne said that the book is actually really good!

Isn’t that an amazing story?! All right. I’m gonna scoot and get down to work here. Tomorrow is all about Abstract Absurdity with Peitor again, so I really want to try to focus on Narcissa here today.

Have just a wonderful Thursday, wherever you are in the world. I’m not gonna leave you with what I would really love to leave you with today, but I just don’t think it’s okay to do that. So I’ll just leave you with this. It’s from an Australian news site, and I’m guessing there’s a copyright on the photo, too, but I can’t find a name (and I did look). Okay, I love you guys. See ya!

Image result for rowland s. howard pop crimes tribute london 2020 — Nick Cave singing “Shivers” last night at the Rowland S. Howard tribute concert in London.

Let’s Try That Again!

February 12, 2020 marilyn jaye lewis Leave a comment

So, today, I’ve been awake since 3am. No fears of oversleeping today, I guess.

Late last evening (my time zone, anyway), I got a text from Peitor, saying that he was on his way out to have a meeting. I know the person he was meeting with and it was sort of a big deal, so that sort of stressed me a little. (See last evening’s post.)

He and I are very different in that way. When something in my life blindsides me, I sort of retreat to my little cave, re-group mentally, try to see where I’m coming from spiritually — you know, get a feel for what’s motivating me — before I do anything like take any meetings. I’ve known Peitor forever now, and he is the exact opposite from me in that regard. So I didn’t say anything. I trust him. But it still stressed me out. So I went to sleep kind of early. Hence, wide awake at 3am.

But I did see — upon scrolling through Instagram in the dark at that ridiculous hour — that for the first time in over a year (and I mean that literally), Susie Cave posted a sort of happy song in her Instagram feed. It’s literally been over a year. And not only have the songs she’s posted over the past year tended to be unhappy ones, but often they seemed so unhappy that they’ve made me actually gasp. So I think maybe this is a good sign? Something hopeful?

(Well, that, or she’s using Ghosteen just to sell dresses and I seriously don’t want to believe something like that.)

Well.

We are inching toward the Lenten season. I don’t always observe the Lenten season, but when I do, I follow the Franciscan prayers. I’m a big believer in St. Francis — I pray to him every day because he is the Patron Saint of animals. And even though I know he can’t protect all the animals, I pray to him to also help sustain my heart, to help it find strength and a way to heal, in the event that animals are suffering anywhere around me.

I haven’t wanted to post this to the blog, because it was such an open sore for me, but several months back, that favorite pasture of mine with the dozens of happy cows that I had to drive past to get into town? The guy there sold all of his cows to slaughter on the very same day. All of them. Cows, bulls, frolicking little calves. Gone to slaughter. A few dozen. Those cows always made me so happy.

I was of course driving when I saw this and I really just didn’t know what to do. I was just devastated, but I was behind the wheel of a moving car and fellow drivers all around me are counting on me not to lose my fucking mind.

Well, it’s at times like those when I really need St. Francis to figure out how to pull me through. Because I just don’t understand why people don’t think that animals’ lives are just as sacred as our own. I just don’t get it.

Anyway. A whole heck of a lot of people don’t agree with me on that, or that any lives are sacred, really, so on we go.

Lent. With or without St. Francis, I don’t always practice Lent. Mostly because, during some years, I don’t have it in me to have the Holy Week under a microscope. One of the very, very few things about Jesus of Nazareth that ancient sources agree on is that Jesus was crucified by the Romans. And that still makes me physically ill.

Why he was crucified is certainly debated. What happened to him immediately after that is the stuff that entire religions are crafted from! But the seeming fact remains: Jesus was crucified. (As was one of his brothers, and one of his great-great-great grandsons (or great nephew); and his other brother, James, had his legs broken by the High Priests and was then stoned to death. Basically, any men they could find who were still walking around that had even a shred of Jesus’s bloodline in them were systematically done away with. And while this isn’t proof that Jesus was considered the bloodline contender for King of the Jews, it does lend credibility to that theory. Because having a “fake” appointed king (Herod) opposed by a traditional (bloodline) king (Jesus) was going to be a real problem in Jerusalem for the Romans. And by “King of the Jews,” I’m referring to the traditional Hebrew belief that the next King (or Messiah) would be, in fact, two men — one who could trace his lineage to Aaron and the priesthood; and the other who could trace his bloodline to David, the king. And both men had to appear at the same time and within the same family, basically. And James was certainly a priest. That is well understood — even Paul could not completely wipe James out of the history books. But, to be fair, Paul was more focused on deifying Jesus and on making Jesus palatable to the Pagans, and on that score he was wildly successful. But I’m saying that from two thousand years of hindsight; I’m guessing that when Paul was (allegedly) beheaded by the Romans, he wasn’t feeling wildly successful. However, James was not of the recognized “High Priesthood” in Jerusalem, because those men were strictly appointed by the Romans, once Herod was declared King of the Jews by the same Romans. So, it’s Roman regulations versus traditional Hebrew beliefs and the Romans, of course, won through oppressive violence and bloodshed and all of that and, hence, the crucifixion — whether or not Jesus got back up three days later.) Anyway.

That all breaks my heart. Even these couple thousands of years later. I don’t always have it in me to have that be something I’m focusing on, daily, for several weeks (up until, you know, the Glory of the Resurrection, which, obviously, I don’t necessarily believe. In that specific way.). So, some years, I just can’t focus on it. But I haven’t made up my mind yet about this year.

I do love Easter, though. God knows.

Okay.

I am going to try to get back to work here on Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse. That’s front & center on my plate. Nothing else is on the horizon today except booty core. And I hope it stays that way. (Although methinks I will likely hear from Peitor about how the meeting went…) (Heavy sigh)

So I’m gonna get to it here. Well, I’m going to leave you with 3 things today. Oddly enough, this morning, I reached for the breakfast set that’s made of glass: bowl, coffee mug, juice glass. All sparkling glass. Normally, I don’t choose glass. I either use porcelain or ceramics. Today, I chose glass. I don’t know why.

And I thought about the Blondie song, “Heart of Glass,” and wondered, was this telling me that I had a heart of glass? I really didn’t think so. Normally, I’m more of a “Tide is High” kind of gal if I’m going to define myself strictly through Blondie songs. (Not something I, you know, ever do. But there is always a first time to start doing something really weird.)

Did I have a heart of glass? Was I no longer a “Tide is High” kind of gal?? (Meaning, a gal who was gonna hang on to love, come hell or high water.) Well, I’ll let you decide that here this morning: what I ultimately am. You can listen to both songs if you so choose. (And/or you can choose to listen to only the final song posted here, which is the song I actually listened to at breakfast and which, I believe, once again illustrates that I am a simply huge believer in love. Come what may.)

All righty. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya.

Her Dreams Are Always So Darned Prophetic…

February 8, 2020 marilyn jaye lewis Leave a comment

Yes, I am going to tell you about the dream I had right before I awoke this morning, but first–

Sandra has now gone off to Stratford (Canada), where she begins rehearsals for the musical “Chicago”. And now, for almost the rest of the year, her life is going to be about flying back & forth and back & forth, to fit in the round tables and revisions and rehearsals in Toronto, as well as round tables and table reads and staged readings and rehearsals in NYC.

I’m only bringing this up because my schedule now has to piggy-back on her schedule for the rest of the year. Wherein, I will have to be flying back & forth and back & forth, to fit in the round tables and revisions and rehearsals in Toronto, as well as round tables and table reads and staged readings and rehearsals in NYC.

It’s going to be exceedingly interesting, gang. I’m going to try to stay flexible and not lose my mind or anything. But knowing Sandra as I do, I get the impression that, for instance, two and a half minutes before I have to be in Toronto for something, she’s going to text me to let me know that in two and a half minutes I have to be in Toronto — that kind of thing.

I used to travel a lot. Flying, I mean. I always had separate bags for flying that were always packed with whatever essentials I needed, so that I could just throw in some clothes and go. But this was when: a.) I lived in NYC and it was so much easier to get direct flights to places all over the country and in Europe; and b.) 9/11 hadn’t happened yet and airports and planes were still really fun things.

I was in an airplane, in fact, in the process of landing at LaGuardia in NYC, back in early 1981 — I was reaching up to get my overnight bag out of the overhead compartment thingy, when I decided to accept my first husband’s marriage proposal. Isn’t that funny that I remember that? I have no idea where I was flying back from, but I recall flying over the Statue of Liberty and getting up to get my bag ready, and thinking, “I’m gonna go ahead and marry him. I’ll call him when I get back to the apartment.” And I did.

He had proposed to me in the strangest way. I was actually living with another guy at that point. But Foun Kee considered the other guy to be completely inconsequential. “He is just a boy, Marilyn. He has no ambition. He is not like you at all.” (Bold move. Yet he was correct.)

But you also have to factor in here that I was only 20 years old and that Foun Kee had the most amazing accent I had ever heard. He was Chinese, from Singapore, but he was from the aristocracy and spoke English with a pronounced British accent. He was really conservatively educated and spoke precise and perfect English, which was daunting enough (i.e., he doesn’t use the ‘f’ word — ever). But that mixture of a Chinese/British accent was really just the coolest thing I had ever heard. And then, if for some reason, he was sort of angry about something, he launched into pure Mandarin, which I didn’t speak yet, so that was also just amazing to me. I was just a girl from Ohio, you know? Before there was even cable TV. Nothing at all was “global” yet.

ME: “Wow! You speak Chinese!”

HIM (not amused): “Yes, I do.”

ME (ever eager): “Will you teach it to me?!”

HIM: “No.”

Anyway, his accent was not why I married him. (And I should add that two years into the marriage, he began calling me “Marilyn dearest”, in that same accent of course, but I always felt it was sort of derivative of Mommie Dearest and so it always used to get under my skin. And yes I have a temper, but I don’t consider myself quite as off-the-charts as Joan Crawford was so I didn’t think it was funny.) Anyway. So he came over to our apartment in Hell’s Kitchen (back when it was Hell’s Kitchen and still really bleak and dangerous) one rainy Saturday afternoon while I was there alone. He was impeccably dressed. He even had his long, black umbrella and a slim briefcase (very British), and he sat down on the sofa, and took out a yellow legal pad that had several hand-written pages, detailing, in bullet points, all the reasons why I should marry him.

I am so serious.

I sat across from him in — yes, a desk chair!! And I was just astounded, you know? I was not interested in getting married. At all. To anyone. I was only focused on getting something happening with my singing and my songs. And he put his legal pad back in his briefcase and said, “Well, just please give it some thought.” And apparently, I did. (Because, you know, he also said things like, “You are so beautiful and I have dreamed all my life of having a woman like you for my wife.” I have a huge ego to go along with my lovely (Irish) temper.) (But I did absolutely adore him, gang, from the very moment we met. I have always loved an audacious man and he definitely was one.)

But anyway. I digress.

My point was that now I’m thinking that I should get that travel bag together again and just keep it ready, so that it’ll be easier to just go whenever I have to from now on.

Which reminds me that the phone call with Peitor yesterday in LA was several more hours of business stuff. And starting next week, we’ll have two meetings a week — one of which will always be devoted to working on whichever script, so that we can try to get everything moving forward at the same time. So life is definitely inching toward “crunch” time for me, as far as projects vs. time vs. travel.

Okay, so let me tell you about my dream! I realize that dreams are full of highly personal symbolism and might not easily resonate for anyone else. But this dream just astounded me — mostly because I don’t know why I dreamed it.

I had this sort of really large microwave oven that was also an incubator and a little bird was in there, in a sort of box, getting ready to hatch.

I was with a “guy” — I have no idea who, because he was just a form, a sort of energy. But definitely male.

When the bird came out of the incubator, it was going to be sort of like a movie — but like a hologram, in that it would be completely 3-dimensional. And I sat down on the couch, really close to the guy because we were clearly “a couple”, and I told him what would happen — like giving him a synopsis of the movie — saying that the bird would come out and then get really, really large and sort of take over and become part of everything, and be really powerful. (Like a “super hero” type movie.)

And the guy said, “I don’t really want to see that.” And I really wanted to please the guy, so I said, “Okay, well, I’ll just try to get the bird to go back into the incubator.” (The bird had already come out of it.)

I got up off of the couch, went over to the incubator, and my right hand sort of went out in front of me, and suddenly the bird flew right over to me and perched right on my finger. It really gripped me but it didn’t hurt at all. And I was astounded by the power in the bird, and that — even while it wasn’t tame — it still knew how to perch right on my hand.

And I sort of shook it off, and then put out my hand again, and it flew right back and perched on me again and gripped me really tight. And I couldn’t believe how incredible that power felt. And I instinctively knew that the bird symbolized freedom to me. So I decided to keep the bird. And then the whole apartment thing was gone, and the guy. And I was in a sort of professional building where a really big conference was going on — men & women, both. I didn’t go into the auditorium, even though they were waiting for me, specifically. But I did open the door just a little and let the bird fly in there and teach them.

Isn’t that an amazing dream?

I have to say, I pondered that dream all through breakfast. I don’t think that men don’t equal “freedom,” but it was so interesting that my first mindset was that I really just wanted to please the guy (which is actually what I’m really like), but then once I felt the power of real freedom, I couldn’t go back. Plus, I really wanted to share it with people who wanted it. (And the “freedom” thing could also mean that I’m more committed to being a writer than to being in a traditional relationship, and that I can share my writing, my freedom, with all sorts of people without even being in the same room with any of them.)

I guess that was the dream that just explained my whole life to me and that later today, I’ll probably die!

Just kidding. (I hope!!) I’m thinking it’s more this Super Moon thing — a revelatory dream brought on by the moon.

Okay. I’m gonna scoot. Enjoy your Saturday!! Wherever it finds you. (It’s snowing here again! Yay.) I think I’m going to work on Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse today because Wayne still has not gotten back to me with his comments about Tell My Bones so I give up; I’m done waiting — onward!

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