tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23022905457531241992024-03-12T19:39:36.958-04:00WanderlustUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger161125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-19420730300437361302012-03-18T04:12:00.001-04:002012-03-18T06:15:40.643-04:00Languishing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pPA7hb2WVLU/T2WYC6VUabI/AAAAAAAABJs/_nGSpHfp_zk/s1600/359_39758144902_604849902_1541556_5126_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pPA7hb2WVLU/T2WYC6VUabI/AAAAAAAABJs/_nGSpHfp_zk/s320/359_39758144902_604849902_1541556_5126_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><i>Sweet dreams ... telepathically</i>. I've been having them lately and it's made sleep much more appealing than is often the case. These are the dreams that shout their messages at me. Today I feel maternal. And free.<br />
<br />
I'm leaving on a jet plane for la Wednesday. This is my first visit since ... 2009? I believe that was the year. That's not good. This trip will be an expansive one. A two month writing retreat would be a wonderful thing, and LA might not be a terrible place to do it, car notwithstanding. Actually, never mind. Car is too withstanding for that to work.<br />
<br />
So where should I go? The Obvious Choices are anything but, though they've followed me around for decades.<br />
<br />
I want to fly the ocean in a silver plane and go everywhere I want to go. But first I need to do things here.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-33443687092703229772012-03-18T02:30:00.001-04:002012-03-18T02:31:38.482-04:00HamI'm liking this guy:<br />
<br />
She Said<br />
by Charles Bukowski<br />
<br />
what are you doing with all those paper<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> napkins in your car?<br />
we dont have napkins like<br />
that<br />
how come your car radio is<br />
always turned to some<br />
rock and roll station?do you drive around with<br />
some<br />
young thing?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">you're<br />
dripping tangerine<br />
juice on the floor.<br />
whenever you go into<br />
the kitchen<br />
this towel gets<br />
wet and dirty,<br />
why is that?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">when you let my<br />
bathwater run<br />
you never<br />
clean the<br />
tub first.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">why don't you<br />
put your toothbrush<br />
back<br />
in the rack?<br />
<br />
you should always<br />
dry your razor<br />
sometimes<br />
I think<br />
you hate<br />
my cat.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Martha says<br />
you were<br />
downstairs<br />
sitting with her<br />
and you<br />
had your<br />
pants off.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">you shouldn't wear<br />
those<br />
$100 shoes in<br />
the garden<br />
<br />
and you don't keep<br />
track<br />
of what you<br />
plant out there<br />
<br />
that's<br />
dumb</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">you must always<br />
set the cat's bowl back<br />
in<br />
the same place.<br />
don't<br />
bake fish<br />
in a frying<br />
pan...<br />
<br />
I never saw<br />
anybody<br />
harder on the<br />
brakes of their<br />
car<br />
than you.<br />
<br />
let's go<br />
to a<br />
movie.<br />
<br />
listen what's<br />
wrong with you?<br />
you act<br />
depressed.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-68793882757667658272012-03-16T03:38:00.001-04:002012-03-16T03:41:50.405-04:00Bukowski, redux<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3rCVMKvuq64/T2LusnpOGnI/AAAAAAAABJk/TK_7S1JMmdo/s1600/IMG_0051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3rCVMKvuq64/T2LusnpOGnI/AAAAAAAABJk/TK_7S1JMmdo/s320/IMG_0051.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I've posted this already, and it bears repeating.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">The Laughing Heart</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">your life is your life</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">be on the watch.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">there are ways out.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">there is a light somewhere.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">it may not be much light but</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">it beats the darkness.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">be on the watch.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">the gods will offer you chances.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">know them.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">take them.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">you can’t beat death but</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">you can beat death in life, sometimes.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">and the more often you learn to do it,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">the more light there will be.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">your life is your life.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">know it while you have it.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">you are marvelous</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">the gods wait to delight</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">in you.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">-- by Charles Bukowski</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-13515131122287653022012-03-16T02:05:00.000-04:002012-03-16T02:05:52.733-04:00LanguishI want to be a polyglot. I could be if I really tried, but I'm not quite sure how that would benefit my life other than making me happier and more interesting. I speak most English, a fair amount of French, a bit of Spanish, and a dash each of Russian and Latvian. I can say "cow" and "dog" in German and "goodnight" in Hebrew. I can count to four in Mandarin and ten in Japanese - and German. And I can introduce myself in American Sign Language.<br />
<br />
How do you like them apples?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-54573837364091090232012-03-14T12:59:00.002-04:002012-03-14T12:59:37.730-04:00Resisting the urge to fix the typo below. Imperfection is beautiful.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-17089204572724881792012-03-13T23:19:00.000-04:002012-03-13T23:19:02.279-04:00I just said to someone, an old friend I encountered on that annoying but once-comforting thing on which one encounters old friends,<br />
"Great - we'll keep in touch over the years!"<br />
and we probably will but either way how much easier it is to say that then to end a correspondence, how much easier it is to keep in touch than it used to be. It's not all bad, this future of ours.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-51242778908791952182012-03-12T16:58:00.000-04:002012-03-12T16:58:37.544-04:00Eight-legged memories...I once had a spider sit down beside me and frighten me away. It was in the mid-90s late at night in a hot tub in LA. A cameraman - I remember his name - sprouted eight legs and got very grabby. His wife - and my boyfriend - didn't notice. I'll blame it on the cheap gas station wine and Marlboro Lights.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-74596475336892250072012-03-12T00:25:00.000-04:002012-03-12T00:25:18.584-04:00SpiderWhat a tangled web we weave.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-58415478767009381382012-02-11T22:41:00.001-05:002012-02-12T02:16:49.466-05:00Bird by bird ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iLb6LWBW9Pc/TzdnQG9jSSI/AAAAAAAABJc/o0cStmxtq4o/s1600/IMG_2092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iLb6LWBW9Pc/TzdnQG9jSSI/AAAAAAAABJc/o0cStmxtq4o/s1600/IMG_2092.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is another picture of best friend B and me in Paris in January of 2011. I post it because a) I like it, b) Brian and I are both writers and can spend hours lamenting our habits of procrastination, and c) I couldn't find the picture of birds that was meant to accompany the title of this post. I have an old computer and a new computer and something about a firewire and Bob's your uncle and I don't have all my bird photos. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm supposed to write. I like writing - and even more, I like having written - and I get good feedback on my words. I have three projects in the works right now and have spent part of today working on one, which I conceived of in 2006. This year I will finish a draft. It is so damn hard for me to do this - the ease of distraction notwithstanding, due to my editing background I am constantly rewriting as I go, which is exactly what I should not be doing. I should get it all down and then polish. Not supposed to say should but tired enough that I'll let it slide this time. This comes easily to me, jotting down these thoughts about nothing and everything and whatever my brain tells my fingers to type, and if I could I would post and move on, maybe reread in a day or two, because the fact of the matter is that few people read this and the ones who do who know me will forgive me the trespasses of an absentee comma or misplaced, dangling whatever. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Hi Cousin.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am in the country right now, with my mum and our dogs. It's been a quiet, bonding weekend during which I accomplished bits and pieces of what I'd hoped to. I've started an editing project, gotten further in a (way too long) screenplay I'm reading for a coworker, worked a bit on project the first, read a page or two of my friend's book, exercised, and so on and so forth.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Need to keep writing keep writing don't stop don't worry if it's good or if it's going to be part of the final project or is just the stuff I'm purging to get to the final project. So much easier said, that. Oh! I also read a spec script that I wanted to read and am going to work on on behalf of two of my darling writing clients. Whenever I tell people what I "do" (don't ask me why that's in quotation marks; it just is) they inevitably follow it up by asking what it is that I write and edit - one might think that I'd have my stock answer but I don't, and so I fumble and half-explain and leave things out and mumble and downplay and all that good stuff. What I do for a living: I read and write. That's what. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Bird by bird, I will move forward and write my way through these projects 'cause without a first draft there can be no second. I will not get this done in one shot; it will take many and might very well wind up a pile of pages that allow me to move on to the next. Maybe not. But I have to start with one bird to get to the entire flock. Or murder, if it's crows we're talking about. Nevermore. I've been meaning to memorize Annabel Lee and thus far have but the first and second verses (stanzas?) memorized. Mesmerized. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Okay. This was something. I've now written in my blahhhhhhhhhhggggggggg. Knoblauch. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I might be back later tonight. And I very well might not. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am a writer, damn it. I really am.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">(right?)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-17648850359096108152012-01-27T03:25:00.001-05:002012-01-27T04:51:10.843-05:00Sleep no more......or so it seems sometimes.<br />
<br />
Random thoughts:<br />
<br />
I wish I could get my blahhhhhhg to look like it used to; in experimenting with the settings I lost my old ones.<br />
<br />
I'm somewhere between a luddite and a proficient technology user.<br />
<br />
I have a love/cringe relationship with social media. My 20th college reunion is this spring, and while it will be really interesting to see everyone in person, what with The Facebook and all, what will we catch up on? "So, how was that new restaurant you went to two weeks ago?" "Wow -- you are quite the Ron Paul supporter!" "Your turn in Scrabble - I played "nexus" last week."<br />
<br />
Many years ago I had an interesting one-night with a fella I almost up and drove across the country with the next morning. We maintained a long distance email romance back in the days of dial-up and chat rooms and he wrote me what remains one of the most romantic things ever written to me: "I just want to take your hand and walk you around the world."With all due respect to the brilliant men who've written me romantic verse, this one strikes a particular chord.<br />
<br />
This has been a flucked up week but what's done is done. The present is what we have. I have a very difficult time staying in it - the clutter of my mind takes over and doesn't let me.<br />
<br />
There are things I wish I could write and publish (the old-fashioned way) but I'm in touch with too many people to be as open as I want to be.<br />
<br />
I recognize that this is a shoddy excuse for procrastinating.<br />
<br />
I am a far better writer than I am a story teller.<br />
<br />
I am a big believer in apologies and a bigger one in forgiveness.<br />
<br />
I forgot what I was going to say.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-48948622316639763062012-01-19T15:54:00.000-05:002012-01-19T15:54:55.018-05:00Whoosh...I have something racy that I could post, but perhaps now is not the time.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-77385564279908320502012-01-19T12:27:00.002-05:002012-01-19T12:35:09.720-05:00From a good piece in the Times about Homeland ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j0JyTX2pkAY/TxhRUXxu5MI/AAAAAAAABI4/0BIsx4pTU6w/s1600/IMG_2084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j0JyTX2pkAY/TxhRUXxu5MI/AAAAAAAABI4/0BIsx4pTU6w/s1600/IMG_2084.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So let a thousand conversations bloom. Secrets held up to light and air lose their power in the public square. Spies know it as keepers, and writers know it as tellers. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is the <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/18/opinion/my-so-called-bipolar-life.html?src=me&ref=general">context</a>.</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 10px; line-height: 15px;"><nyt_author_id></nyt_author_id></span><br />
<div class="authorIdentification" style="margin-bottom: 2.8em;"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-14151193357891177222012-01-16T22:22:00.001-05:002012-01-16T22:23:00.204-05:00Driving on Nine...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1aUv_FI3xlI/TxTpd2mnLrI/AAAAAAAABIw/2W6kKvZ3cK4/s1600/IMG_1975.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1aUv_FI3xlI/TxTpd2mnLrI/AAAAAAAABIw/2W6kKvZ3cK4/s1600/IMG_1975.jpg" /></a></div>Now what? I've started writing here again and so I will attempt to keep it up. God willing, the interesting times are not all behind me. But in writing the title to this piece I think of Cousin, who may or may not read this. I wish I may I wish I might. I think of 1994ish, when I brought the guy from Baltimore to Mars Bar, and attempts were made with ecstasy that that night didn't live up to its name. Mars Bar - you were in my dream the other night. I wish I wish I wish I could spend ten minutes in some of my memories.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-37688078495827933162012-01-14T13:55:00.004-05:002012-01-14T16:15:11.715-05:00Grow old along with me ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rGpcLDE0Ubs/TxHwMEIVSAI/AAAAAAAABIc/MiIEOQMh6RI/s1600/IMG_2094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rGpcLDE0Ubs/TxHwMEIVSAI/AAAAAAAABIc/MiIEOQMh6RI/s1600/IMG_2094.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In Paris with my dear friend B, 01/02/12</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>After a long and winding delay, I have reemerged from the ether. My 2011 was defined by medical issues, the likes of which I hadn't yet experienced. Surgeries, ERs and grafts, oh my. Stitches, iv's, and so, so much Percocet. Apple juice and graham crackers upon coming out of anesthesia. Lost days, weeks, most of a season.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Yesterday was my first day out of a cast since April, when I discovered that, six weeks or so earlier, I had fractured my scaphoid. This is also when I discovered that I had a scaphoid, and I have since said this word enough to compensate for two decades of negligence. I have had three surgeries on this tiny bone, a bone so vexing to the medical community that it has its own book. Surgery one involved putting a screw in to hold it together. Surgery two, three months later, was a bone graft from my radial. As icky as that was, it absolutely pales in comparison to surgery three, a bone graft from my hip in October. Should anyone offer to remove your iliac crest and graft it onto your scaphoid, politely decline. It's not as much fun as it sounds. <br />
<div><br />
</div><div>In the middle of it all, on June 7, 2011, I took the first (and last) of a six-week class, Intro to Personal Finance, as prescribed by my father for reasons too obvious to fight. It was an unseasonably hot and humid day, and after lunch in the park (Bryant), I decided to walk to my appointment with the wrist surgeon on 88th Street. I was not really supposed to exercise during this stretch, but a 45 block walk seemed reasonable. At the corner of 52nd and 5th, I started to feel lightheaded and nauseated, which is a relatively normal state for me. The subway was across the street, and I decided to abandon my walk. Thank God I never got there. I started seeing dizzying splotches of bright sunlight, the same patterns repeating everywhere I turned. Behind me was a Juicy Couture - yep - and the last thing I remember is deciding to go and sit down in the air conditioning. Some four (according to the witnesses) minutes later I came to surrounded by Juicy employees. Someone handed me a cup of water and someone else told me that I'd fainted and it was very hot out and that they'd called the paramedics. I told them I had to go to my appointment and had to get up, but they kept me there. I remember looking to my right where my bag and papers were and seeing a big pool of Hawaiian Punch. I asked what it was and the fellow behind me, holding a compress to my head, who would turn out to be the one with the CPR and First Aid training, said, "We spilled something there. Don't worry about it."</div></div><div><br />
</div><div>It took the paramedics about 15 minutes to arrive, and on the way to the hospital I asked repeatedly if I was going to die. I fear things like this happening to people I love on a regular basis, and the results are usually far-reaching in my malevolent fantasies. I think they said no, as I imagine they always do. The female paramedic asked my name address date of birth, which she read on the driver's license she'd extracted from my splattered purse. I was semi-triaged at Bellevue ER and spent a lot of time on a gurney in the hallway being hip checked by passers by. The man having tests in the room I was parked near died an exciting death, fifteen doctors and nurses responding to shouts of "Code Blue!", frantic instructions to repeat whatever was being done, and, finally, the flat line. The denouement. When I finally got to a room, seven staples and many conversations with a cocky resident who so wanted me to have a drug problem he practically begged later, one of my roommates was a Mr. Singh, who shouted insults at the nurse in Hindi (they found a translator) throughout the night. They turned my valium drip up as high as they could so that I could sleep.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Turns out I had a concussion, and a not super-minor one. Short term memory loss and something resembling aphasia took away most of the summer, with that first bone graft thrown in for reinforcement. People came to visit me throughout and I forgot who, and when. My memories came from photos and conversations I found myself in. None of this is good for the mood, which is further squandered by lack of mental and physical exercise. In two weeks I go to an appointment suggested by my neurologist, four hours of neuro-psychological testing, to ensure that I've no longterm damages from the event.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I've since learned what happened between my deciding to enter the store and my coming to. I was leaning in the doorway of what turned out to be the employees' office when a few of them came back from lunch. I grabbed someone's arm and told him that I didn't feel well. He told me to come into the air-conditioning, turned his key in the lock, and I fell straight back and landed on the floor. They got their manager and the guy, Chris, who knows first aid and CPR which we should all know, and at first I was just passed out. Then blood, with the decency to resemble Hawaiian Punch, started to pool around my head. Apparently this made them uncomfortable. I was out for four minutes, and waited another eleven for the ambulance.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I have been profoundly lucky in the health department until now, and these harrowing experiences mark the end of taking it all for granted and the beginning of trying -failing- and trying again to do things well and to stay as from from danger as I can comfortably manage. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And how was your summer?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-26352469200244672242011-07-01T02:47:00.002-04:002011-07-01T02:59:21.062-04:00Something I wrote ...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qR8_Jl06q4Q/Tg1wEnwpRvI/AAAAAAAABIY/RtL5Vqa3Y2c/s1600/IMG_1698_2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qR8_Jl06q4Q/Tg1wEnwpRvI/AAAAAAAABIY/RtL5Vqa3Y2c/s320/IMG_1698_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624274734350419698" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">...just now without an edit - started out as something else but turned into this -- concussion only partially to blame; I've a wandering mind. Among other things.</span> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Times New Roman"; panose-1:0 2 2 6 3 5 4 5 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"American Typewriter"; panose-1:0 2 9 6 4 2 0 4 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"American Typewriter";} table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-parent:""; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> </span><p face="times new roman" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p face="times new roman" class="MsoNormal">It is not quick, or effortless, to come to great wisdom. Knowledge is not wisdom – knowledge is a toolbox with too many drawers and little bits and dusty parts easy to over look. Knowledge lives in the brain and the muscles; wisdom lives in the soul. In the mind, in the self, in whatever those who write books choose to call it – all wisdom is fundamentally the same. Belief is not wisdom. War is not wisdom. Hate is nothing at all – it’s other things shifting focus because they’re too embarrassing to own; anger the same. Fear and grief and love and loss and gratitude are real. Tears are real, those not conjured for cameras through masquerade eyes. Loneliness is fear. With wisdom comes a slow-building cure for all that ails us.With wisdom comes gratitude, trust, acceptance, love; there is no room for guilt and regret.</p><p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="MsoNormal">One I just found from Dorothy Parker:</p><p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="MsoNormal">A Very Short Song</p><p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="MsoNormal"><span style=" ;font-family:Arial;font-size:14px;color:#333333;" >Once, when I was young and true,<br />Someone left me sad-<br />Broke my brittle heart in two;<br />And that is very bad.<br /><br />Love is for unlucky folk,<br />Love is but a curse.<br />Once there was a heart I broke;<br />And that, I think, is worse. </span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-39205252254696863152011-03-23T02:10:00.003-04:002011-03-23T03:06:46.492-04:00Hello again<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tsfHPamX-70/TYmb_Vy4J7I/AAAAAAAABHs/8Tb9KgT0OGc/s1600/IMG_0364.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tsfHPamX-70/TYmb_Vy4J7I/AAAAAAAABHs/8Tb9KgT0OGc/s320/IMG_0364.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587168325214414770" /></a><br />I'm back. From a long, long break in so many good things - productivity, tranquility, active optimism ... but I am absolutely back. Oy. So the first quarter of my fourth decade did not reflect me at my finest ... hence the lack of 'fessing up on this blahhhhhhhgggggg. I told Y that I have this - apparently never mentioned it before - and he said, "Most people I know start these things and gradually taper off - " and if you look at how many posts I've done per year, you will see that he knoweth of what he speaketh. He doeth. <br /><br />I have a slight lisp, by the way, which I've not thought of in ages - and like clockwork, ath thoon ath I mention it, it manifethth. Okay - enough of thith thubject.<br /><br />Um, what else. I slept literally not a second last night, and if my track record with ye olde insomnia proves accurate, I shall not sleep at all tonight either - it's a two-day thing with me. And I'm off the crazy-making prescription sleep aids as well as the quantities of booze more suitable for a college freshman than a ... gulp ... woman. I've only started referring to myself as a "woman" in the past six months or so - not a conscious decision, but I've resisted that word forever - "girl" seemed so much more appealing. But girls make mistakes and drink too much and pick fights and don't find their ways and that's okay - they're girls. I'm technically not. And so begins the new era of me - the adult me - the one who knows how to drink like an adult, meaning on occasion and not to excess, and who had put her past behind her and is focused on the present and calmly optimistic about the future. And somehow, miraculously it almost feels, I've crossed the threshold at last and am ready to embrace life and stop fighting it. It was one too many completely avoidable errors in judgment that prompted this but it seemed to happen organically and spiritually (yes, BB, the treehugger is in effect). <br /><br />Wow - how comforting it is to know that this drivel* is not falling on deaf ears.<br /><br />*I know it's not drivel - because I like my writing and I like writing and that's really all that should matter in this forum. <br /><br />I've been thinking a lot about mythologies - not of the Greek or Roman persuasion, but of the human kind. We are all characters of our own mythologies - what we've perceived ourselves to be, often based on messages we've heard our entire lives, what we're "supposed" to be. Is this making any sense? Probably not but hear me out and I will clarify after I've had some sleep - which should be by April at latest. Par exemple - a child's earliest emotional imprint is created by the adults in his or her world. The messages received before we are cognizant that we are receiving them mark us for a very long time. And if we don't realize we are capable of change, they can stay with us forever; they become incorporated into our mythology. i.e. I am perfect, or I am deeply flawed, and/or I am unfixable ... whatever our perception, it becomes part of the fabric of who we think we are - and we act accordingly. For forty years I've felt deeply flawed and unfixable - no one ever told me that I was, but that was my young, young self's idea of how I was perceived by the world. And so I've acted accordingly for forty years - and guess what? Turns out that's ridiculous. But as a highly sensitive and self-analytical being, in my immaturity that's what I took in and that's what I decided I was. And it became a self-fulfilling prophesy. And so despite all the positive I've heard over the last - as far back as I can recall I'll say 24ish years - the first time I recall actively receiving a positive, you're-not-a-weirdo, you're-not-"wrong" message from a peer - I've held on tightly to every negative word I've ever heard directed at me. Rhetorical question: why is it so much harder to embrace the positive messages than it is the negative? <br /><br />I have finally figured out that that deeply flawed unfixable nonsense was my mythology, not my truth. Forgive me for sounding boastful, but I have some pretty damn good attributes. At my best, I am a loving and caring and supportive and loyal person. And my dear friends recognize this. But I hadn't - and so despite the incredible support system I've had for decades, I have fought against and sabotaged my real and good self and ruptured so many of my relationships that I'm amazed I'm still intact. <br /><br />I am absolutely one billion percent ready to let go of the past - of the pain I've felt I've had to hold onto. I love my family beyond words. I love my friends in a very different way beyond beyond words. We've all made mistakes, we are all human and thus flawed, we are all "fixable" if we choose to be. I don't need to defend myself anymore against my mythology - because the fact of the matter is a) my defense mechanisms were absolute failures, as may be the nature of defense mechanisms, and b)I AM capable of transformation and thus of greatness. We all are. But I have to say, it must be exponentially more difficult to transform without people who champion us. I think so highly of the people in my life - family, Tara, Ivy, Lisa spring instantly to mind as steady supporters, JB, whom I've never met in three dimensions, as a lovely surprise - like BB - and so many more who absolutely know who they are - that it almost doesn't occur to me that they share my fears and self doubts and insecurities and all the rest on any level - they are all so strong and evolved. You are all, I should say, because I know that at least you guys are reading this. And you have all played significant roles - seriously - in getting me to where I am struggling to explain I have finally gotten - which is READY TO GROW UP. <br /><br />So here we go, my friends - a new era has begun. For real, this time. I promise to let go of sadness and regret about the past forty years, be grateful for all the good that has gotten me to this point, be present in the present and be productive and strong and determined and manifest a future in kind. And I'm going to make you all so proud. I promise. You deserve it. You guys rock. <br /><br />I'm exhausto.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-83806544520697737482011-03-20T01:49:00.004-04:002011-03-20T01:55:20.401-04:00ReduxOy. So I know I've blahggged often about insomnia, but it bears repeating on a regular basis. I have so much to say and no energy to say it - I've been up since 5AM yesterday and have had a fairly busy day. I will write more and more interestingly. Spellcheck ignored "interestingly" but underlined "spellcheck". And other inconsequential observations.<br /><br />(puppies are cute)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TNpDso2poVQ/TYWWl7pdfbI/AAAAAAAABHk/_Kz1SYnj05s/s1600/IMG_1966.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TNpDso2poVQ/TYWWl7pdfbI/AAAAAAAABHk/_Kz1SYnj05s/s320/IMG_1966.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586036491233885618" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-61042929097620656392011-03-19T10:03:00.002-04:002011-03-19T10:07:30.496-04:00Dog is my co-pilotIvy's right - I've been a terrible blahgger of late - though I have been doing significantly more writing lately. I shall get back to this forum this weekend. In the meantime, please enjoy this photograph of my dog, with my compliments:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pcGWX2pjHNY/TYS4g6D_3CI/AAAAAAAABHU/T04X-OI6r2M/s1600/IMG_0216.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pcGWX2pjHNY/TYS4g6D_3CI/AAAAAAAABHU/T04X-OI6r2M/s320/IMG_0216.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585792313327606818" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-4101936876264630822011-02-21T11:53:00.003-05:002011-02-21T11:58:15.343-05:00Hurry up and waitIt feels as if 2011 has yet to really begin for me. It's certainly begun elsewhere in the world - the news is dizzying. But for me, personally, it is off to a sluggish start. Which is strange in light of recent major changes/developments on the home front. I have been writing more and exercising more, and what I have to show for it are more beginnings of stories and, inexplicably, a few extra pounds. "Inexplicable" is a lie ... I can no longer eat the way I used to. This is a really boring post. I'm going to post it now. Sigh.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-60333161863909799162011-01-25T04:01:00.004-05:002011-01-25T04:05:02.944-05:00Good night<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ROFyzoxgdkc/TT6SMCKXTHI/AAAAAAAABHE/ryUWCrUrfow/s1600/IMG_1447.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ROFyzoxgdkc/TT6SMCKXTHI/AAAAAAAABHE/ryUWCrUrfow/s320/IMG_1447.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566046924912938098" /></a><br />All you who sleep tonight<br />Far from the ones you love,<br />No hand to left or right<br />And emptiness above--<br />Know that you aren't alone,<br />The whole world shares your tears,<br />Some for two nights or one,<br />And some for all their years.<br />-Vikram Seth<br /><br />Leila tov.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-72053032460127466792011-01-18T06:53:00.004-05:002011-01-18T06:58:24.635-05:00and so it is ...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ROFyzoxgdkc/TTV_guoBXeI/AAAAAAAABG8/PhR2bXJmIzg/s1600/IMG_2084.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ROFyzoxgdkc/TTV_guoBXeI/AAAAAAAABG8/PhR2bXJmIzg/s320/IMG_2084.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563493114934549986" /></a><br />I am not in the habit of focusing. I am not in the habit of committing to anything, really – thoughts, favorites, friends – I need the bounty; it’s what sustains me. And so I can not do things like re-read/answer emails that are significant and positive because my mind devotes equal parts to them, to the one I miss, to worrying ‘bout Lou – to worrying ‘bout pretty much everyone I know – to wondering why I am this way – to wondering why I wonder – to wondering who would find these thoughts enchanting, to thinking about Anne Hathaway, to wondering about my freelance career, to thinking about my superpowers, to thinking about activating twins, to … and see, without tonic, all of my synapses might fire And it might be impossible to get any one thing done, she rationalizes.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-6620466655722957722010-12-30T22:43:00.002-05:002010-12-30T23:07:18.973-05:00SleeplessToday is 2010's swan song ... I am in Paris, where it is currently 4:30 am, give or take quelque minutes. My parents have brought me and some family friends here as part of their very generous nod to my 40th birthday ... which I spent largely on an airplane on Tuesday. Next to an off-duty pilot, which was comforting -- he slept peacefully through fairly turbulent turbulence, and so I took my cues from him.<br /><br />Forty. It's been quite a journey getting here -- a dizzying array of ups, downs, and sideways'. The highs have been extraordinary, the depths I've sunk to terrifying, and I have emerged strong and smart and capable and ready to manifest my present and future in the best way possible. Certainly there will be steps backwards, but I strive to take many more forward as I put into use the many lessons I've learned along the way. I once thought that was what my thirties were meant to be about; the closer I got to this decade, the more certain I became that in fact forty is the beginning of the best years. I hope I don't sound like a motivational coffee mug.<br /><br />This past year has been one of beginnings and endings - very bittersweet. I've been using that word a lot lately to describe my current situation - and it really is that. I so look forward to sweet taking center stage, but I realize I have to be patient and to accept the fact that I can not control anyone's destiny or feelings besides my own. That realization has been decades in the making. I wish I could convince those who need convincing that the challenging, sad, or seemingly insurmountable phases do not last forever and that tranquility is attainable, but I can not. Just as no one could "convince" me of the aforementioned realization until I was ready - ready to relinquish decades of misplaced guilt and regret and fears that could not be assuaged no matter how much logic I attempted to embrace. My emotions have always taken over and I think I've feared letting that not be the case because on some plane, overriding my feelings with intellect felt dangerous. <br /><br />Now that I realize I can update this blahg from here, I hope to do so a few more times before our triumphant return to the states on Tuesday. <br /><br />For now, bonsoir, buenos noches, buona sera, ar labu nakti,leilatov. Now you know what the address above means. xoLUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-33989711935856660992010-12-28T05:21:00.001-05:002010-12-28T05:22:51.794-05:00Ham on ryeThe Laughing Heart<br /><br />your life is your life<br />don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.<br />be on the watch.<br />there are ways out.<br />there is a light somewhere.<br />it may not be much light but<br />it beats the darkness.<br />be on the watch.<br />the gods will offer you chances.<br />know them.<br />take them.<br />you can’t beat death but<br />you can beat death in life, sometimes.<br />and the more often you learn to do it,<br />the more light there will be.<br />your life is your life.<br />know it while you have it.<br />you are marvelous<br />the gods wait to delight<br />in you.<br /><br />-- by Charles BukowskiUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-30553815421960295292010-12-19T08:42:00.003-05:002010-12-19T08:52:58.194-05:00Partial list of things I've done for the first time in 2010<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ROFyzoxgdkc/TQ4OKKe0t_I/AAAAAAAABGw/9OKNPcRIla0/s1600/IMG_0789.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ROFyzoxgdkc/TQ4OKKe0t_I/AAAAAAAABGw/9OKNPcRIla0/s320/IMG_0789.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552390958369519602" /></a><br /><br />1. Snorkeled in the ocean. <br />2. Picked up a scorpion.<br />3. Salsa-danced on the streets of New Orleans.<br />4. Written a song.<br />5. Seen a Beatle perform live.<br />6. Sent pastrami across the country.<br />7. Sued someone.<br />8. Seen a shaman.<br />9. Script-supervised.<br />10. Made a meatloaf.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2302290545753124199.post-91509923426582446992010-12-17T00:20:00.002-05:002010-12-17T00:25:12.793-05:00Partial list of 2011 resolutions1. Take the high road.<br />2. Keep appointments.<br />3. Eschew "gossip".<br />4. Rekindle my relationship with writing by hand.<br />5. Pay more attention to my health.<br />6. Respond promptly.<br />7. Cook more.<br />8. Waste less time.<br />9. Finish my book.<br />10. Record a song.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0