dream. Changed my own oil. Grate for house and earring. Saw chris, couldn't help ourselves. He came and left.

'what do you intend to do with the property once you demolish it?' 'throw it away.'

smart and final. Faster donuts. And ugly everything.

perfectly coifed poodle with perfectly flumoxed owners. LAX is an asylum.

me neither, i say. What's that about?

what do people have against reality?

'i don't think it's over,' J says to me. A republican can be converted. I don't want it to be over, I say. 'i don't know what that's based on,'

Last night was fantastic. Went to meet friend B, who I haven't seen in forever, then a cocktail party/meeting for my new job. Saw a guy I went to high school with who I've had a crush on since he lived across the street from my ex. Wore a killer mini skirt, and my legs looked great and I looked great and felt great and was workin' it and... I was on the way home and J called, turns out he had tickets to Kermit's birthday party at HOB. Went there, rocked out, danced, saw N, who bought us a beer. I was at home in bed by midnight and thrilled.

Today, I was tired and sad and dropped right back down again. The drinking is something, for sure. And I didn't really eat dinner. And forgot my meds this morning. I'm still thinking about C-, but manage to restrain myself from calling or texting or whatever. I can make it until Jan 1. Or whenever.

And I'll have a party for Endymion. And everything will be great - but DAMNIT, I find myself waiting for something, and feeling not quite right, instead of just being happy with where I am and what I've got. Why must I always look forward to something? Maybe my brain just needs a nap.

Hibernation

What a bizarre weekend. I should focus on the people and the time that made me reassured in the great friends and friendships I have. And the honesty of the people in my life. J and S are so terrific... and we had the best Saturday night ever.

But then the party for J on Friday, and girlfriend J took a comment the wrong way and... I just don't want to deal with it?

And yesterday I went to go watch the stupid football game with stupid C... And then sweet little R came in, in her little santa hat and arm warmers and all of a sudden it became very clear what was actually going on here. And he started seeing her before we "broke up" and when I realized THAT at 1am after waking up from the vague drunkenness, boy was I furious. Texted him, and he called. Twice, in his defense.

And he apologized. And should he get a gold star? I told him it wasn't smart for me to be friends with him now. Which it isn't. It might not be smart at all for me to be friends with someone who either "doesn't have the balls, or isn't grown up enough" to do the right thing. Which was to Tell me about her before I met her in a bar.

And he told me I did the "right" thing - which was to stay and be cool and whatever and not leave and blah. Fuck that, frankly. I probably should have left, should have gone off to whole foods, except I was so drunk by that point..... And I did go back to see the other boy, to flirt with him, but he was 100% and he could see it all over me or us or whatever. "I would have flirted with you, but I'm very bad at it, and there's clearly something very Weird going on here that I don't want to get into the middle of." "Me neither," I said.

And I forgive C, sure. As I told him, I forgave him as soon as I could tell him I was angry. But it might not be smart to have a friend who'd do that? He doesn't think about other people? Is that it? Is he just so selfish that there's no consideration at all? Perhaps that's it. Regardless, right now, the negatives are outweighing the positives. It's no fun to compete with another girl when I already know I've lost.

Especially when she's an idiot who doesn't know that the Red Sox can't play the Saints, or that Minneapolis is in Minnesota. Are you kidding me?

And yet, she's got "Namaste" as her religious beliefs on Facebook, and I did like her, she's a sweetheart and ... but, c'mon. Indianapolis. The name of the state is right there.

Oh, and did I mention I was his 50th, and "the best sex in recent memory?" Fuck that, man. Fuck that.

Letting Go

So this I don't understand.

I spent 2 weeks trying to play it cool with C. I knew he wasn't the cats pajamas, but I liked him and liked spending time with him. I knew it too, when he wasn't treating me right, and somehow avoiding me and ... And when we had the conversation 10 days ago when I said "If you want to see me, see me. If you don't, don't," I barely heard from him for a week. That was a pretty clear message to me, right? Right. I knew it was over. It was just a trial, and it was clear that we weren't right.

And then a week later, I ran into him at a bar on my side of town, and we hung out and had a great time, but when he walked me to my car and tried to kiss me goodnight... I turned the other cheek, as they say. He tried to go in again, and said 'C'mon, gimme a kiss." I simply asked, "Why?"

I was furious that he had left me hanging for a week. I'm still angry he didn't realize that would hurt my feelings. The non-kiss did make him call me, and spit out the scary words "Let's just be friends." I'm great, he says. I'm fantastic. He loves how we are together. He's just "Not ready."

I said I respected that. And I do. And when he asked me to lunch the next day, I told him it wasn't a good idea. And it wasn't. And it wasn't a good idea for me to go over there today.

And damnit, it's not a good idea for me to still be texting him all day. Do I need the drama? Is that the way this is? Do I need something to be thinking about? Do I need a BOY to be thinking about? I guess I've always had it... since I was in Kindergarten, I can almost trace for you the crushes and the "this is who I was thinking abouts." And the relationships, failed though many of them were.

I'm secretly hoping that now that we aren't dating, we'll both just be ourselves. And ironically, let our guard down. Which I sorta have. I guess it's incredibly dangerous to do that when he probably isn't. Since that's what he wasn't ready to do. And that's clear.

I do want to help people. And I do like him, and I do think it's important to help people through what I went through. I wanted to help J.S., would have helped S-, and here comes this next one. No, I don't want to change you. I just want you to be who you are.

That may be the problem. How could I possibly know who any of them were? How could I know who C is? He may not even know. And maybe Brother J is right: Maybe there is this penumbra; but that just makes me hope he's on the cusp of it.

It is so easy to stick around when you already know what's going to happen. I already know it's not going to work, so I'm somehow safer with the devil I know. I've grown so used to having the secret hope - and kidding myself into it.

But it makes me so sad to have to let go of it.

take me as i am

RAAAAGH!

I am so tired of this. I'm so ANGRY. I'm frustrated at everybody for getting their panties in a bunch about NOTHING.

The girls are freaking about what the musical will be, when I've got bigger fish to fry.

Every time I come into ex- ex-work, they seem to be afraid that everything will fall apart without me. I have too many responsibilities to hold their GODDAMNED hand anymore!

I have eight lists running in my head, and the stupid boy is STUPID and I probably should just fire him and move along.

The fact of the matter is, he doesn't express his feelings for me in a way I get. Maybe that will change? Maybe not. After feeling frustrated and left in the lurch all weekend (and him waiting for me to say something?), I laid out the: you don't fuck me, you tease me, and you don't call. So what should I think? Really, should I just assume you like me because you grace me with your presence? How fucking delightful of you.

Maybe J is right, maybe I should just cut him loose if he can't appreciate what he's got. Or doesn't care to spend time with me. She's right: I deserve someone who, even though he has plans, wants to see me the rest of the time. He asked me what I meant by "casual dating"... "If this is casual dating..."

But we're also talking about a man who's never been in a relationship longer than 6 month. He doesn't know what that means. 6 months is his version of serious. Don't know how much credibility I can give to someone who's not stuck around past that point. Even if he has been betrayed. Perhaps the women he dated went out in search of what they weren't getting from him?

Maybe I do want his validation. Reassurance. I know that I deserve what I asked for yesterday, and frankly I shouldn't have had to ask for it.

And I just went on a tour of a building that I don't think I'll work on. Or work in. I think they need someone over my head, and I don't believe in raising money for an artist zoo built by people who DO NOT live in reality.

And my Grandmother died today.

Better stay away from people I like.

Impatience

I'm tired of waiting for everything!

But it's not really that. I spent all day yesterday on my way from one thing to another. I have felt overwhelmingly lately like I am living in limbo, in the midst of life, not able to exhale. My anxiety level rises, and I get crazy. Is it just hormones? Is it the holidays?

I suppose it could always be both. I am tired of trying to figure out what it is, though, since knowing doesn't always help. It's half the battle, yes, but the other half is DOING something about it. And that is how I have felt helpless lately.

C- is ... fine. You date a boy for a month, and you don't know a lot about him. I feel like he knows even less about me - and it's partially because he doesn't ask. He's either waiting for me to volunteer information, or he's not as interested as he pretended to be. In so many ways there are so many good things about us - but it is the Us I'm unsure about. I feel like I can't let go around him. I feel always on my toes which makes me much less interesting than I think I am naturally. I'm afraid of being wrong - afraid he'll call me out or walk away or .. any of that.

I think he and I are both afraid of what might come. Doesn't mean that WE are what might come, but if the sex is any indication... And i continue to be fascinated that he's dreaming about me. I haven't been tracking the dreams of late, but I'm pretty certain he's not been in any of them.

I feel like I'm living with 4 lists, slowly figure out which to do, what to prioritize. And the thing is, I'm not unhappy. But I have been anxious. And Anxious is my 2nd least favorite feeling, second only to depressed.

I think, in the end, I am not spending enough time with myself, for myself. Cleaning the house was a great effort and great energy. And the car. And I'm really proud of myself for maintaining that.

I have not spent enough time with myself. Writing. One must write. Even if it's only little bits here and there for myself. I think I may return to writing the novel. Perhaps I will write each chapter for a different man I know, with all their bizarre makeup.

I am stretched far with all the things I'm doing, and it's going to work, I'm just not being patient enough with myself. I keep expecting myself to know immediately, to adapt immediately, to respond immediately. This is a learning curve, with all of this. And it's ok for me to not know what I'm doing just yet.

baby and her sister. So tiny but confused the two. Sweet angels.

Dream

It was opening day at the race track. I had friends who worked there, and I walked down the day before, and snuck in - I may have even climbed through a window. I kept walking around pretending I belonged there, but afraid I would be found out. I think I may have been, in the end. I was talking to my friends, and watching them set up... all of that. They were getting ready for an art opening.

What about S's mom? I saw her... my ex's mother. From 2 years ago. She's crazy, to say the least, and was as much of the reason I left him as anything else. She was yelling at me; it was as if I was in trouble for something. She bought blinds? I had to return them? I don't remember the details.

Then we went to the art opening on the day of - I ran into my best from K. C dated her in highschool, so it was a slightly awkward situation. Years have passed, all of that, but it's still odd. K walked in with her "new husband" (who is not her husband - they were the perfect suburban couple instead of being who they actually are). K was pregnant - very pregnant! I realized how long it had been since I had seen her. I walked out of the room, and walked back in to see C laying across a table, or a bench, head rested on his hand, lounging sideways. He was wearing a hawaiian print shirt and striped pants - the loudest of island wear. He was talking to K and her husband, just cutting up. I was embarrassed of him, and wanted to rescue them from him.

Then I went to a party that T&A were hosting - it was out on the gulf. There was some sort of boat being raffled. I went swimming in gulf and got perfectly sunburned - it was in a perfect U shape around my chest - but it was because of the water?

Decisions

For the first time in my life, I'm actually dating more than one guy at a time.

So the trick here is: Is it possible to give honest attention to more than one person at a time? Is it possible not to favor one over the other? That seems to be the real issue.

I find myself favoring one over the other, only to be disappointed. C & I watched the Red Sox sweep the series (Woo Hoo!) on Sunday night, had an outstanding time, and I think all is well and good. At the end of the night we both want to hang out more, so I spend the night, although we do not Do It. And I'm thinking... OK, this just might work. And then I think "Poor B, (who I met on Saturday night), who I think thought I really liked," but A is enough to give him a run for his money.

Let's be frank: B picked me up at a party: he saw something he wanted, an went to get it. There is something very intoxicating about being pursued so adamantly... about a man who takes you to an upstairs bathroom only to pull up your dress and try to have sex with you on a stranger's vanity. I mean, third base is one thing... but I know better than to ruin a good time with a one night stand, right?

That, and I didn't have protection in my purse, and I made H a promise.

And in B's defense, C was in the same position... well. Except we were laying down. Both boys get to third base... but I behave myself. And let me just tell you, C gave some pretty great head for a 26 y/o: enough to make a girl want to go out with him again, for damn sure. He did all kinds of great uterine massage... Let's just say the boy's got skillz.

But back to the matter at hand: both boys waited the prerequisite 24 hours to call me, although plans with C for yesterday got wrenched over and over again. And now I'm going out with B tonight. How do you carefully tell a boy that you already have another date?

No matter what, I'm still afraid of being forgotten or overlooked. Still in my head rumbles around this idea that if I just "do the right thing" the boy will like me. I know I have to be ME, but the game is part of the game.

Perhaps the game just has to be the FUN of it, no? Halloween, here we come!

Chuck Perkins

Heard his spoken word on WWOZ the other day, and while this isn't it, it gives you an idea. Just wish artists like this would come back to New Orleans.


Chuck Perkins
New Orleans

If your American dream is painted on a canvas
Neatly folded in the corner of Andy Warhol’s mind
New Orleans is a hurricane beating down your coast

If you close your eyes
And feel the easy ride
Of the St. Charles Street Car
Where a solo tuba
Blows the scent of magnolia
Down narrow streets
and everyone plays possum with the heat
and no one’s too big or too small
to paint their tongue with a snowball

where former slaves pay homage to the first Americans
by masking in suits of rhine stones and bright colored feathers
that transform security guards into Indian Chiefs
doing rain dances on Congo Square
where the drums drum
and the wine drink
and the big chief sing
somebody give me a quarter
cause pretty big chief want some water

if you can envision the souls of yesterday
living in the music
that rises from the cracks in the sidewalks
New Orleans is your dream
With a heart as soft
As the spanish moss
Dripping from centuries old oak tress

She’s a pretty face with dirty feet
The good witch of lake Ponchartrain
The spice god of shrimp and crawfish
Keeping the spirits fed

Communities of windowless monuments
Masquerading as cemeteries
Tower above ground
No earth or worms to cover the flesh
No silver bullets to turn out the spirits
That still dance with her

Spin your umbrella
And wave your bandanna
It’s Mardi Gras time
And everybody’s happy

Armed with a blue print of civilization
The new world stormed in
With enough asphalt and cement
To pave a boulevard back to Paris

the spirit of the swamp still hasn’t submitted
Leaving mildewed kisses of disapproval
On every thing foreign to the wet lands

Catholicism could not turn out the spirit of Marie Laveau
The wrecking ball could not turn out the spirit of Storyville
And death could not turn out the spirit of Louie Armstrong
When yesterday hangs on to forever
Tradition is a temple.

Chuck Perkins

I'm in a hurry.

The problem with being in a hurry is I'm not ready. I had that final realization over the weekend: I'm not ready to meet someone new. I'm not totally ready for a job that will take over my life and be "the most fulfilling thing ever." The last time all that happened I got pretty overwhelmed and nearly had a little breakdown when it all came crashing down.

When S- left, I was crushed. I cried for a week. I didn't eat, and then I did again. Isn't that always the way? Once I got far enough away, I started meeting new people. Jumped right back in again. And now, I've got these poor boys stringing along, getting to know me and whatnot, and I'm really just foundering a little.

There's B-, the accountant. Sweet as can be, but also young and overzealous - moreso in his general life than with me. So that's fine. He knows what to say, right down to the textbook "you look cute today." It's like being back in high school a little. But he's cute, and he likes me, and I like being around him. It's nice. The attention is nice.

There's C-, the .. I don't know what he does, actually. He loves music and the red sox. And we were supposed to get together, but then we didn't, and I since realized I'm not ready and the prospect of going out to meet someone new.. well. I'm tired.

Then there's P-, who is out of alphabetical order. He's asian, and repairs saxophones, and so far seems very funny. Which we like. We like funny. But he's a little older and JP is the only asian guy I've ever been attracted to... and well, he's only half-asian! Both C and P are match guys... so I haven't actually Met them, yet. But they seem like fun, I guess.

Maybe that's all I want right now; and what i"m drawn to. Fun. I'm terrified I'll get attached again, so scared to be hurt, or to lead someone on the way S did with me. He didn't intend to - he had all the best intentions, really - but he did. He ended up saying a lot of things he didn't mean in the end, or he didn't know he could mean. And I'm learning that I develop emotions about everybody I meet. I could Not do that, as J recommends, or I could simply come to terms with it and accept it and learn to live around it. Or with it.

And I can't get my hormones on track and work is hard and life is harder and I need to get paid. Guess I'm just bitching today, huh? I guess that's why I write it down. Need to get it out.

The short story is: I'm trying to give myself permission to simply live my life, without expectations. Make the best decisions I can right now, and find a way to live according to my own internal ethics. It's the only way to really be both successful and fulfilled, I guess.

I Thought I Was Ready

So the boy left me last week. I wish I could explain it, or go into more detail, but that's all that happened. We were together, and in the beginning it was beautiful. And then... it wasn't. It's stopped being. He lost interest. And it's not anybody's fault, I guess, but it sure as hell feels lousy. As I said to my mother "I just want a break. I've done all this work, and everybody tells me I'm great - so why does this keep happening to me?"

Last tuesday morning, he found time in his busy schedule to see me and tell me it was over. We exchanged belongings, and I commenced weeping for a week. Made it through the weekend. He was out of town. He sent me a text message over the weekend, asking how Friday's services (yom kippur) were. I thought "What's going on here? What does he want from me?" Maybe he's missing me, maybe something's changed again. Maybe...

Not. On Monday, we had a frightening exchange, in which it was clear that the opposite of love really is indifference. Getting together "just isn't a top priority" for him. So when I told him to lose my number, he said "What if I have questions for you? What is this, a one-way street?" Yes, I said. When you lose 5 pounds and cry every day for a week, then we'll talk about one way streets.

And Monday Sucked.

And Tuesday was hard.

And today, Wednesday, at lunch, I was talking about him/it, and realized that it simply is what it is. I keep realizing this. I keep realizing that there are all sorts of explanations, the most likely is that he had too much to handle emotionally and so just cut some of it out. I felt the same overwhelming way - but instead cut out the job stress instead of the love stress.

In the end, he made his choice: and it wasn't me.

So I was feeling good at lunch, although on Monday I deleted him from my life: my myspace, facebook, gmail chat, phonebook... I didn't burn things, and I don't return gifts, but I have tried to clear my consciousness of him.

I thought I was ok. And then I looked at his myspace, and wondered what he was "anticipating" and became terrified it was another woman: had he moved on so quickly? He had "meetings" tonight and tomorrow: were they dates?

Why am I still so wrapped up in this?

Clearly I was wrong for him, and therefore he for me - whether right now or ever, it doesn't matter because right now is all I've got - but why is it even more devastating when someone could move on so quickly?

Devastating.

And I don't even know if he has.

Thing that fall together unexpectedly also fall apart.

only in new orleans do you see the musician-coffee shop owner you know riding a vespa with his legs crossed

Labor Day

This is back to old times. Fo' sho.

Yesterday morning, my good girlfriend S calls me and says she wants to go out to breakfast. I oblige. Nothing like a good omelet first thing in the morning to start a holiday.

So she comes to get me, we go to this great little breakfast joint, and run into her personal trainer, who consequently joins us. We all talk about how everybody is depressed lately. (Sidenote: a friend tried to convince me this had something to do with Saturn today; not that it has anything to do with the 2nd Anniversary of the Thing).

At the end of breakfast, S says, c'mon, let's go to the beach.

I told her before I wasn't going, but something about that moment... "Sure. Vamanos a la playa."

So we hop in the car, about 10am, and drive to the beach. Florabama, specifically. Because Pass Christian is just a little too close.

We get to the Florabama bar, have some lunch, and go out to the parking lot where we run into fellow New Orleanians, in full costume. They're 2-degree friends of S, and therefore mine. So we chat with them, exchange some Hot Damn and Pucker, and then offer to us our own costumes! S takes the sailor suit, I take the prison stripes, and off we go. Santa, Security guard, Boy Scout, escaped mexican, and then prisoner and sailor. The Security Guard dug himself a hole in the sand, while the sailor built a sand sculpture of Santa.

Ahhhh. Vacation.

Tonight

Tonight I officially became grownup.

I went out with friends, and had three glasses of wine.

And after three glasses of wine and more dinner than I should have had, I was still far too toasted to drive. Too toasted to walk, even, really. Not that I couldn't walk, I was just far too tired.

So I took a taxi.

And tomorrow I'll walk the 2 miles to my car, and I'll call it exercise.

When did I become a grownup?

Dream

So I officially quit the new job. And realized how good a salesman my boss is. But I still stayed strong, and thank god I had talked to my folks, including dad who predicted the exact tactic that R- would use.

But don't forget the dream that he talked to the "higher ups" and then went back to 30 days. Said it wasn't reasonable for me to only do two weeks.

This man is not to be trusted - my subconscious knows it, and knows he is a controlling manipulator. It's not a healthy relationship for me, and I'm out. 2 weeks and counting.

Giving up?

So after nearly three weeks of deliberation and trying and weeping and feeling lousy, I sent a massive text this morning: "I think I'm going to quit my job."

I feel like I've surrendered. Half of me. The other half asks "why should I be miserable?" Yes, I have to find a better way to deal with conflict and be less sensitive, especially at work, but nobody said I had to be miserable doing it.

And at the same ironic time, knowing I'm willing to quit makes it easier to go in today. Almost lets me off the hook: whatever happens happens. And you can't change a situation until you can see it for what it is.

R has a way of disarming me. I'm afraid to talk freely to him - I'm constantly on guard. A lot of that comes from getting such a harsh email from him after the first day of trying so hard to please him.

Maybe the problem is that 90% of this job is about making him happy, and I simply don't care to do that anymore. I stopped kow towing to people who were hurtful to me a long time ago. Or at least I made a promise to myself that I would.

And while its terrifying to set out on a new path (again!) and not knowing what the next stepping stone is, I'd rather be happy and confused balancing on one foot looking, than miserable and mired.

Or I'm making a huge mistake and will default my mortgage and be living in a cardboard box within a year. There's always that.

Dreams about Controllers

I had somehow become involved with a controlling, abusive man. I realized I couldn't go anywhere without his permission, and he had cut me off from all my friends, etc. He was a polygamist, and was physically abusive to his other, smaller girlfriend. I watched him throw her from the roof of where he kept us.

I finally realized that the only way to get out was simply not to come home at night. I was allowed to go out for work, and I just didn't go back. I was terrified he would hunt me down and find me, and I did everything in my power to stay away from him. My car was towed because of a neighborhood parade, and then I ran into like a surrogate family... they took great care of me, and offered to drive me where I needed to, and then their car was also towed. We also had to go downtown to get the cars out - but when we got there, hundreds of people were ahead of us. I realized it was the beginning of carnival season, and the city was ramping up for it.

In the end, it turned out this man was some sort of religious fanatic - they had started a sect of episcopalianism or something equivalent that was very exclusive, rude, elitist (white), but also tortured people and animals - animals especially. They killed small animals, kittens and cats, for the sport of it, after very arbitrary selection.

I could see him from far away after I left, but I was genuinely afraid of him, and afraid of what he might do to me. And I couldn't believe I had gotten into that situation - because he seemed so kind in the beginning and did all the right things.




How scary is it, after 2 glasses of wine, that your mind combines the two frustrating relationships in your head and brings them to their worst possible end? Although, the good news is I did get out, despite the loss of control (car).

It all works out in the end.

Boundaries

So six weeks into a new relationship and 2 weeks into the new job, I'm learning the importance of No.

But it's more complicated than No. KLC had a great way of phrasing with her own nightmare boss: "If I take on this project, then I won't get X done." Makes it a lot easier to give them a choice rather than an ultimatum. What a brilliant idea.

So "I can't give this much and not get in return. My feelings for you might change if I keep this up."

and

"I won't be as effective in this position if I don't have downtime."

Been doing well enough, and laying down the law with R helped, of course I didn't do it in the best way. With S- it's harder. I don't want to leave him alone, because I know he needs someone, and I have to admit I need to be needed. But I also need to be able to relax, let go, and give my stress away. He has too much of his own to take it.

Even though I've backed off, and told him I would back off, but I'm still leaving presents on the stoop. It's partially because I know he needs it. But also because I want him to work through this and get back to me. I can't make him change. And I know he wants to change; but I can love him, I guess.

Just lately, I haven't felt like I loved him so much.

I love that the palm trees on carrollton arc away from the oaks for light. How did i never notice that before?

Writer's Almanac August 7

"The bachelor"
by Leslie Monsour
from The Alarming Beauty of the Sky



No family pictures on the wall, no books,
A drafting desk, a travel magazine;
No children, one divorce, a satellite dish—
A cold, efficient exercise machine,

And in the corner with the firewood, stacks
Of videos. The fridge comes with "lite" beer
And non-fat milk for the granola stored
In jars. I've looked, but there's no sugar here.

Platoons of running shoes camp by the door;
His Boston fern, neglected, pays the price;
His one unfriendly cat purposefully saunters
Across the threshold, searching hard for mice.

As he begins to age, and his gray beard
Inaugurates the thinning of his hair,
He'll pale with each sensation in his chest,
Each flutter, every pain and numbness there—

No cardiologist, nor any chart
Will ever find the trouble with his heart.

Been awhile

It's been a while, ladies and gentlemen. I am officially between jobs at the very moment - an odd feeling which is partially freeing and partially just feels like the weekend. As if, every weekend we are between jobs. I am still worried about the place I just left, and thinking about the job I start tomorrow.

I dreamt last night that I went to a party with S-, and his friends A&S. We were dancing and I thought we were going out dancing. We ended up going to this smallish house, and I was sent into the back room to sit with the kids and play this bizarre game with dice and whatnot. It was a kids game, but it was young adults playing as well - I finally just got up after not really understanding the rules and not really caring to. Told S- I was leaving, then walked through the back alley to another house. I thought I had been there before,and I was there with my father. It was like an antique/junk house, but things weren't so cluttered, and there were all sorts of different things all over the house. From music to books, to handmade cigar-like boxes with names inscribed on the front to clothes to .. all sorts of things. It was more like a treasure hunt than an antique store. Or an antique store with only the things I like in it.

I dreamt too about work, and JF sent me an email wanting a connection from my new job - which seemed ridiculous. It seems that many people have been showing up out of the woodwork looking for some kind of connection - but I suppose that is a blessing and not burden.


S- is laying a responsibility on me about his lack of communication. That's a harsh way of saying it - but it is pretty true. I have set that boundary gently but firmly, and hopefully he will understand all I have said. While I love him and I do have a maternal part of me that he needs, I also need him to be able to express himself as himself. I believe in independence, in a huge huge way.

But as for me... yesterday at lunch all I wanted to do was go have sex with J. Isn't that bizarre? I think it was simply the great desire for something comforting and comfortable. By the time I was done at work the feeling had passed, and S- and I had great sex that was just perfect. But in a way, his writing me today that I didn't ask about his trip on wednesday taints the entire evening. As if he was thinking about it the whole time. He gave me some good advice about Roger, and we were able to diffuse what he was afraid would escalate into a fight - his tone was very aggressive and accusatory which made me defensive.

It's interesting - do we always focus on what is wrong? What we want to change? Isn't that part of our nature, constantly trying to improve things? While it is very healthy to be able to sit back and enjoy something lovely for what it is, isn't it also just as important to be able to know you can improve upon it? Or is this just the rat race at it's worst.

Off to the farmer's market and to have a day of my own to be "fresh" for tomorrow.

Sleep is a magical thing.

little boys are so cute and so terrible! I imagine one of the joys of having more than one kid is watching them torture each other.

Changes

Yesterday was a day of massive nerves and anxiety. I had a great 4 mile recovery run in the morning, but it didn't help - just seemed to fuel the fire. I met with R-, we wrote our agreement, and then I went to meet his business parter N-. There I sat, by the pool at his Uptown mansion, taking dictation for an email worth $4 million. Then I went back to work, gave my unofficial notice and made my boss cry. Yoga on the bayou made me feel much better: a simple reminder that at every moment everything is changing, and every moment is a beginning and an ending. S- and I went for a quick run on the bayou - our first run together - and then went home.

Although I was in bed by midnight, I slept right through all my alarms and didn't get out of bed until almost 9am.

I have never had this much change and upheaval in such a short period in my whole life. I'm trying to take it in stride, but I think I just need my own routines - I need something to be the same for a little while. I need my crossword puzzle in the morning and to sleep alone and just take it easy.

And yet, S- is freaking me out. My vacillation in feeling for him scares me too - I know he's the best man I've ever had. He has everything I have wanted. But at the same time, when I've been with him lately it seems as though all I can see are the things I don't like. The goofiness, childlikeness. As Natalie has said, I want a Man in my life, not a little boy. I am very conscious that his absent mother and my maternal complex are a good match.

But I need a mother too. I need someone to take care, and help and encourage and support. And it's almost as if he does that too much. Perhaps I don't believe anyone who is as positive and polyanna-ish as he. Makes me think he's just crazy. I need to know he has doubts and insecurity, since that's what makes him human. And yet, I've seen far too much of his humanity lately, and it's almost repulsive.

I do not know why I'm all of a sudden keeping him at arms' reach. I do not like how much he shares with me. I think, in all reality, we do not know each other to be as intimate as we are.

But I don't want to ruin a great thing.

Am I repeating past mistakes?

Doubts

So in the midst of everything in my life coming together, everything is changing. I have met an incredible man, who most of the time I am crazy about and falling in love with and can't wait to see and get to know. I have a new job, that was just confirmed, that might just be my dream job - it's exactly what I asked for many years ago: to create the theatre community I want in the city I love.

And after a roller coaster day yesterday that was incredibly busy and exciting and exhausting and that ended really beautifully with S-, today was an odd day. I started to back off, generally, when I woke up this morning. Maybe it's just that I've been stretched to the limit. Maybe not sleeping for days and working and everything that's been happening is just overwhelming and exhausting.

This afternoon I got really anxious, like I haven't in years. I had a fantastic run - nearly 5 miles on the TM, watching goodfellas, and I hit my high somewhere around mile 2.5. Showered, got dressed, having plans to go see S- and meet some friends and take a field trip to a local glass blowing studio. But by the time I got to his house... I was hesitant. I was disconnected. I wanted to go home but didn't feel like I could.

I sat on the kitchen floor loving the dog and watching him make dinner - but it was dinner I didn't want. He said salad. That's not what there was. And as I sat on the floor I got more and more sad and worried about him and us and everything and work, and realized that it wasn't about him: it was about me.

I was sad and overwhelmed and anxious. I am nervous for the change. I am sad to leave the place I work now: 5 years is a long time to be anywhere. The people I work with are like a family to me, and I'm afraid I will lose them in this transition. I have already lost the family that was here before the storm: what if I lose them too? What if it doesn't work with R? What if he works me too hard?

What if I'm not good at this? What if I can't meet his needs?

What if I let S- down? What if he isn't the one? If he isn't I may never find it.

I am afraid to find things that bug me about him. He is like a little boy sometimes - he jumps the gun to relationship - he is fascinated by stupid things.

And yet: there are so many really perfect things about him and us together. I am afraid of it being this good - what if it's false? I am afraid the job is not as great as I think?

When did I get to be this happy? I have the overwhelming fear that something really terrible is about to happen.

Twitterpaited

When do you know when a person is the right person?

Is 11 days long enough?

Expectations

So I met a new boy. Well, re-met, really. Long story, not worth telling.

But he's 25. Which is a WHOLE year younger than I am, which is totally ridiculous I know. I have grown so used to dating men at least 4-5 years older than I am, so the prospect of dating someone younger just seemed... uninteresting? I figured we'd go out, and at some point I would freak out, run away, convinced at his emotional immaturity. So what if he owned a business and property? Just because he had his finances together didn't guarantee anything else.

At 26, I have grown old, and cynical, and set in my ways. I have hidden myself away in my little cove of a house that I love so much, keeping myself safe from the surprises that life has to offer. I've been trying to control the amount of the unexpected, the multitude of change.

I was wrong.

I finally realized what I have been afraid of in losing weight is NOT, after all, being thin: it's simply changing. It's not knowing how I will have to adapt and adjust to a different size and shape, what else will come, what kind of attention (or not!). The fear of the unknown.

And with S-, I think it is the same. I am afraid of what I do not know, at the same time that I am excited and atwitter. I have grown so adept at protecting myself from that fear that I have built all sorts of mechanisms: cynicism, negativity, judgment. Why expect any person to be more emotionally equipped than the last? Why expect that anything I do will have an effect, if it so rarely does in this world? The naïveté I had as a younger woman was a blessing in that regard - because that youthful energy DID things, MADE change. I still do things, just much more quietly.

Maybe its time to turn up the volume.

Lynn at Liuzza's

She beats her boot against the chair leg and tries not to sing depressing songs. Three false starts and a home run.

She's in love with this guitarist, and she's slept with nearly every guitarist in town. But she just can't kick the coke or him. Still her voice cranks out like a hot summer afternoon; hot, sultry, and loud as hell.

Overheard at the Gym

One naked 60+ lady to another:

"Even the strip clubs have good music!"

Only in New Orleans. God I love it here.

Nuns, Religious, and Rousseau

The corner of Nuns and Religious street.

These are real streets in New Orleans. Who knew?

The real question, is how did Rousseau get mixed up in all of it?

woman in 50s dress and heeled sandals whose calves read .and. .then.

Ain't No Holiday

Yesterday was any other day. Nothing special about it. The last working day of the fiscal year. Went to the ballet.

The point is: it wasn't a holiday. We didn't wait until July 4th. It amuses me when J misses me and when he doesn't. "Misses" may not be the right word - but when he wants to see me.

We have discussed that we can't "date" - and he's right. I'm right, too. But it makes everything very complicated because there is a genuine love between us. And did I mention chemistry? I genuinely wonder, if and when I meet someone else, if it will go away.

So B and I went to the Ballet. Got drinks before, drinks after. J kept trying to get me to go to a party, even though I told him 3 different times I had other plans. So he finally called at the end of the night - and I invited him to come meet us at the bar. And that was perfect. B and I both needed him there, at that perfect moment. We both needed to laugh. And B was driving me, so at the end of the night when we were all ready and J read the air and said "Time to go" - we all walked out together. And I lingered, gave J a kiss on the cheek - and B drove me to my car.

And against my better judgment, perhaps, and against what I have said was "smart" of J to do - turning off the tap - I went over there. I did call him on my way, but didn't need him to answer. I parked on his street, and he had just gotten home, and was standing the yard.

He smiled, and walked over the way he does - falling into every step, a lazy walk - and let his head bob around and as I walked to him I said "I wasn't tired," although we both knew what I had come for.

During our whole relationship I have waited for him to kiss me - for him to "come get it" - and I do love that about him. I trust him, too, to know better than I when the time is right, or what is appropriate, or what is good for me. Although he doesn't know me that well, oddly enough.

But last night, at 1:30 in the morning, I walked right over to him, pinned him against A's truck, and kissed him. And kissed him. I dropped what was in my hands so I could touch him - and he was sweaty from the summer bike ride and that was divine. He was moist, glistening I suppose.

"Inside, truck, or cemetery?"

Cemetery, he said.

So we crossed the street and went into the gate and..

Cemetaries in New Orleans are called cities of the dead. When they were first built hundreds of years ago, the locals knew about the flooding, and they were very worried about disease (as Yellow Fever killed thousands in the 1800s), so the dead were buried above ground, in tombs.



And it's 2 in the morning, and this is one of the neighborhood cemeteries in New Orleans, and no one's there but J and I, nude and trying not to get concrete scrapes on our most delicate parts.

In the end, after a wonderful lovely time and some bizarre acrobatics on my part, fear of getting grave-burn overruled finishing. He and I lay, half-dressed, on a flat tomb finished with cold white cement and the typical "Perpetual Care" brass plaque, and stared up at the sky for quite a while. And there were more stars than there usually are in a city sky.

Lawmakers approve almost all of Blanco's agenda - Breaking News Updates New Orleans - Times-Picayune - NOLA.com

Lawmakers approve almost all of Blanco's agenda - Breaking News Updates New Orleans - Times-Picayune - NOLA.com

This is the most important part of this article (to me): Broadway South made it through the legislature. Modeled after the tax cuts made for film and tv production, the state of Louisiana is going to pay people to renovate theaters, hire locals, and produce live theatre and performance. Seems like a no-brainer to a state that's built an economy on tourism and culture, right?

I have a meeting with Roger Wilson when he gets back in town.

Oh, and I'm 100% behind the payraise for teachers. Just as a sidenote. Arts and Education. As I was driving to work yesterday, I thought "Thank god we elected a democratic woman 4 years ago, despite all the failures she's had since the storm - because we all know Jindal would never have let these pass."

Automated Attendant

Why is it when we talk to those automated systems that are supposed to read our voices we turn into robots?

Dana Gioia's Commencement Speech

Following is the prepared text of the speech delivered by Dana Gioia at Standford's Commencement on June 17, 2007

L.A. Cicero Dana Gioia, chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts

//
Good morning.

Thank you, President Hennessy.

It is a great honor to be asked to give the Commencement address at my alma mater. Although I have two degrees from Stanford, I still feel a bit like an interloper on this exquisitely beautiful campus. A person never really escapes his or her childhood.

At heart I'm still a working-class kid—half Italian, half Mexican—from L.A., or more precisely from Hawthorne, a city that most of this audience knows only as the setting of Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown—two films that capture the ineffable charm of my hometown.

Today is Father's Day, so I hope you will indulge me for beginning on a personal note. I am the first person in my family ever to attend college, and I owe my education to my father, who sacrificed nearly everything to give his four children the best education possible.

My dad had a fairly hard life. He never spoke English until he went to school. He barely survived a plane crash in World War II. He worked hard, but never had much success, except with his family.

When I was about 12, my dad told me that he hoped I would go to Stanford, a place I had never heard of. For him, Stanford represented every success he had missed yet wanted for his children. He would be proud of me today—no matter how dull my speech.

On the other hand, I may be fortunate that my mother isn't here. It isn't Mother's Day, so I can be honest. I loved her dearly, but she could be a challenge. For example, when she learned I had been nominated to be chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts, she phoned and said, "Don't think I'm impressed."

I know that there was a bit of controversy when my name was announced as the graduation speaker. A few students were especially concerned that I lacked celebrity status. It seemed I wasn't famous enough. I couldn't agree more. As I have often told my wife and children, "I'm simply not famous enough."

And that—in a more general and less personal sense—is the subject I want to address today, the fact that we live in a culture that barely acknowledges and rarely celebrates the arts or artists.

There is an experiment I'd love to conduct. I'd like to survey a cross-section of Americans and ask them how many active NBA players, Major League Baseball players, and American Idol finalists they can name.

Then I'd ask them how many living American poets, playwrights, painters, sculptors, architects, classical musicians, conductors, and composers they can name.

I'd even like to ask how many living American scientists or social thinkers they can name.

Fifty years ago, I suspect that along with Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, and Sandy Koufax, most Americans could have named, at the very least, Robert Frost, Carl Sandburg, Arthur Miller, Thornton Wilder, Georgia O'Keeffe, Leonard Bernstein, Leontyne Price, and Frank Lloyd Wright. Not to mention scientists and thinkers like Linus Pauling, Jonas Salk, Rachel Carson, Margaret Mead, and especially Dr. Alfred Kinsey.

I don't think that Americans were smarter then, but American culture was. Even the mass media placed a greater emphasis on presenting a broad range of human achievement.

I grew up mostly among immigrants, many of whom never learned to speak English. But at night watching TV variety programs like the Ed Sullivan Show or the Perry Como Music Hall, I saw—along with comedians, popular singers, and movie stars—classical musicians like Jascha Heifetz and Arthur Rubinstein, opera singers like Robert Merrill and Anna Moffo, and jazz greats like Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong captivate an audience of millions with their art.

The same was even true of literature. I first encountered Robert Frost, John Steinbeck, Lillian Hellman, and James Baldwin on general interest TV shows. All of these people were famous to the average American—because the culture considered them important.

Today no working-class or immigrant kid would encounter that range of arts and ideas in the popular culture. Almost everything in our national culture, even the news, has been reduced to entertainment, or altogether eliminated.

The loss of recognition for artists, thinkers, and scientists has impoverished our culture in innumerable ways, but let me mention one. When virtually all of a culture's celebrated figures are in sports or entertainment, how few possible role models we offer the young.

There are so many other ways to lead a successful and meaningful life that are not denominated by money or fame. Adult life begins in a child's imagination, and we've relinquished that imagination to the marketplace.

Of course, I'm not forgetting that politicians can also be famous, but it is interesting how our political process grows more like the entertainment industry each year. When a successful guest appearance on the Colbert Report becomes more important than passing legislation, democracy gets scary. No wonder Hollywood considers politics "show business for ugly people."

Everything now is entertainment. And the purpose of this omnipresent commercial entertainment is to sell us something. American culture has mostly become one vast infomercial.

I have a reccurring nightmare. I am in Rome visiting the Sistine Chapel. I look up at Michelangelo's incomparable fresco of the "Creation of Man." I see God stretching out his arm to touch the reclining Adam's finger. And then I notice in the other hand Adam is holding a Diet Pepsi.

When was the last time you have seen a featured guest on David Letterman or Jay Leno who isn't trying to sell you something? A new movie, a new TV show, a new book, or a new vote?

Don't get me wrong. I love entertainment, and I love the free market. I have a Stanford MBA and spent 15 years in the food industry. I adore my big-screen TV. The productivity and efficiency of the free market is beyond dispute. It has created a society of unprecedented prosperity.

But we must remember that the marketplace does only one thing—it puts a price on everything.

The role of culture, however, must go beyond economics. It is not focused on the price of things, but on their value. And, above all, culture should tell us what is beyond price, including what does not belong in the marketplace. A culture should also provide some cogent view of the good life beyond mass accumulation. In this respect, our culture is failing us.

There is only one social force in America potentially large and strong enough to counterbalance this profit-driven commercialization of cultural values, our educational system, especially public education. Traditionally, education has been one thing that our nation has agreed cannot be left entirely to the marketplace—but made mandatory and freely available to everyone.

At 56, I am just old enough to remember a time when every public high school in this country had a music program with choir and band, usually a jazz band, too, sometimes even orchestra. And every high school offered a drama program, sometimes with dance instruction. And there were writing opportunities in the school paper and literary magazine, as well as studio art training.

I am sorry to say that these programs are no longer widely available to the new generation of Americans. This once visionary and democratic system has been almost entirely dismantled by well-meaning but myopic school boards, county commissioners, and state officials, with the federal government largely indifferent to the issue. Art became an expendable luxury, and 50 million students have paid the price. Today a child's access to arts education is largely a function of his or her parents' income.

In a time of social progress and economic prosperity, why have we experienced this colossal cultural and political decline? There are several reasons, but I must risk offending many friends and colleagues by saying that surely artists and intellectuals are partly to blame. Most American artists, intellectuals, and academics have lost their ability to converse with the rest of society. We have become wonderfully expert in talking to one another, but we have become almost invisible and inaudible in the general culture.

This mutual estrangement has had enormous cultural, social, and political consequences. America needs its artists and intellectuals, and they need to reestablish their rightful place in the general culture. If we could reopen the conversation between our best minds and the broader public, the results would not only transform society but also artistic and intellectual life.

There is no better place to start this rapprochement than in arts education. How do we explain to the larger society the benefits of this civic investment when they have been convinced that the purpose of arts education is mostly to produce more artists—hardly a compelling argument to either the average taxpayer or financially strapped school board?

We need to create a new national consensus. The purpose of arts education is not to produce more artists, though that is a byproduct. The real purpose of arts education is to create complete human beings capable of leading successful and productive lives in a free society.

This is not happening now in American schools. Even if you forget the larger catastrophe that only 70 percent of American kids now graduate from high school, what are we to make of a public education system whose highest goal seems to be producing minimally competent entry-level workers?

The situation is a cultural and educational disaster, but it also has huge and alarming economic consequences. If the United States is to compete effectively with the rest of the world in the new global marketplace, it is not going to succeed through cheap labor or cheap raw materials, nor even the free flow of capital or a streamlined industrial base. To compete successfully, this country needs continued creativity, ingenuity, and innovation.

It is hard to see those qualities thriving in a nation whose educational system ranks at the bottom of the developed world and has mostly eliminated the arts from the curriculum.

I have seen firsthand the enormous transformative power of the arts—in the lives of individuals, in communities, and even society at large.

Marcus Aurelius believed that the course of wisdom consisted of learning to trade easy pleasures for more complex and challenging ones. I worry about a culture that bit by bit trades off the challenging pleasures of art for the easy comforts of entertainment. And that is exactly what is happening—not just in the media, but in our schools and civic life.

Entertainment promises us a predictable pleasure—humor, thrills, emotional titillation, or even the odd delight of being vicariously terrified. It exploits and manipulates who we are rather than challenges us with a vision of who we might become. A child who spends a month mastering Halo or NBA Live on Xbox has not been awakened and transformed the way that child would be spending the time rehearsing a play or learning to draw.

If you don't believe me, you should read the statistical studies that are now coming out about American civic participation. Our country is dividing into two distinct behavioral groups. One group spends most of its free time sitting at home as passive consumers of electronic entertainment. Even family communication is breaking down as members increasingly spend their time alone, staring at their individual screens.

The other group also uses and enjoys the new technology, but these individuals balance it with a broader range of activities. They go out—to exercise, play sports, volunteer and do charity work at about three times the level of the first group. By every measure they are vastly more active and socially engaged than the first group.

What is the defining difference between passive and active citizens? Curiously, it isn't income, geography, or even education. It depends on whether or not they read for pleasure and participate in the arts. These cultural activities seem to awaken a heightened sense of individual awareness and social responsibility.

Why do these issues matter to you? This is the culture you are about to enter. For the last few years you have had the privilege of being at one of the world's greatest universities—not only studying, but being a part of a community that takes arts and ideas seriously. Even if you spent most of your free time watching Grey's Anatomy, playing Guitar Hero, or Facebooking your friends, those important endeavors were balanced by courses and conversations about literature, politics, technology, and ideas.

Distinguished graduates, your support system is about to end. And you now face the choice of whether you want to be a passive consumer or an active citizen. Do you want to watch the world on a screen or live in it so meaningfully that you change it?

That's no easy task, so don't forget what the arts provide.

Art is an irreplaceable way of understanding and expressing the world—equal to but distinct from scientific and conceptual methods. Art addresses us in the fullness of our being—simultaneously speaking to our intellect, emotions, intuition, imagination, memory, and physical senses. There are some truths about life that can be expressed only as stories, or songs, or images.

Art delights, instructs, consoles. It educates our emotions. And it remembers. As Robert Frost once said about poetry, "It is a way of remembering that which it would impoverish us to forget." Art awakens, enlarges, refines, and restores our humanity. You don't outgrow art. The same work can mean something different at each stage of your life. A good book changes as you change.

My own art is poetry, though my current daily life sometimes makes me forget that. So let me end my remarks with a short poem appropriate to the occasion.

[PRAISE TO THE RITUALS THAT CELEBRATE CHANGE]

Praise to the rituals that celebrate change,
old robes worn for new beginnings,
solemn protocol where the mutable soul,
surrounded by ancient experience, grows
young in the imagination's white dress.

Because it is not the rituals we honor
but our trust in what they signify, these rites
that honor us as witnesses—whether to watch
lovers swear loyalty in a careless world
or a newborn washed with water and oil.

So praise to innocence—impulsive and evergreen—
and let the old be touched by youth's
wayward astonishment at learning something new,
and dream of a future so fitting and so just
that our desire will bring it into being.

Congratulations to the Class of 2007.
//

Young Love

Summer Memory: P's daughter's face when she "pissed herself" and the shame he has already laid on her. She was climbing a wall in the P-ville house, a brick support that looks like stairs to three year olds. All afternoon she followed around Pierre, the sweet three-year old nephew of B-... asking to hold his hand, walking next to him, doing what he did. I tried to get her to go to the bathroom about 20 minutes earlier, but once we got to the w/c, she simply looked at me and said "I don't want to."

So she's playing with Pierre, and I'm standing there with her father and his mother, just watching kids play. Suddenly, she stops short, and stares out - horrified, embarrassed, aware she's done something wrong but with no control at all. She's stupefied. Her father says "Jesus Christ," in a shamed voice, grabs her and whisks her out of the room. When our friends asks later why she's wearing a different cute little pink dress, he says "She pissed herself." He says it over and over, and each time it hurts my feeling a little more.

I can see her, in many years time, with a deep seated anxiety and shame of self. She won't know why, or where it comes from - and its really only the tone of daddy's voice: annoyed, humiliated, his patience lost.

And yet, it's amazing what a girl will do for love, even at age 3.

Boys of Summer II

Did I mention yet another J, the older brother of one of my dearest friends? In response to invite to the dinner party he wrote:

J :"...as long as it's not just an excuse for a booty call."
V: ha! Surrender the fantasy. ;).
Although, on second thought, I have managed to slowly eliminate all my "quick and easies." You'd probably have to fight everybody else there for it, however.
J: I'm good at fighting...and there's a fine, fine line between violence and... ; )"

Shiver. Oh dear. I might just get into trouble.

My good friend A, his sister in law, is quite excited. It was only a few weeks ago, at a bar, when she realized we both had baby crushes on the other, but both reacted the same way: "Oh, (s)he would never go for me." He added, "I'm too old for her," while I said "I'm not his type, and he's S's brother!"

But there is a fantasy in the back of my head about being the sister-in-law of my first boyfriend and best friends. Like a guarantee I'll always be a part of that family, and be aunts to their kids - and to the three already terrific kids in that generation.

Oh, and did I mention he's a body builder? He's almost too big for me, honestly, but there's still something about a man who's arms are as big around as my head and could lift me over his head in a heartbeat that gets my juices flowing. Maybe it's pre-historic instinct, maybe it's socialization. Maybe I just like to be pushed around a little.

The thought still goes through my mind however: I'm not little enough. I still assume after all these years that all men want to date a size 4. And since I'll never be a size 4, I might as well admit that I'm going to be single the rest of my life.

All that said, of course, I'm back on the WW wagon, keeping track of everything that goes in my mouth. Frustrating to be ill the first few days - but c'est la vie!

Boys of Summer

Well, I asked to meet new people: success! Maybe now I need to ask to meet available men who are interested in me. With any luck, just putting the energy out there will help, yes? In summary:

P, a late-30something friend-of-friends who works for the local paper. Has a 3 year old love child, who I met at the sugarplantation. He's attractive, if shortish. Clever and funny. And what can I say, I'm a sucker for a 3 year old girl. First guy I've met in a while that I was really interested in - not just "considering."

Then at B&B I met:
G - A (very) handsome guy I've been talking to for work for months and months. He's always been very charming, and he pals around with a group of folks I've always wanted to meet in this town, but have never quite worked it out. After Saturday, I was vaguely convinced he was gay (and yes, he's that hot), until he said "I have to leave in a minute, but I really want to hang out with you. We should go out, or get fucked up or get coffee or something." Sounds interested to me, right? He rsvp'd to the house's b-day party for 2. *sigh*

J- So cute, southern accent, long-haired carpenter. He was drunk, but took to me, and we chatted a bit. Then he won one of the best raffle prizes... Gave him my card, and nothing. Again, a carpenter, and his accent makes me think he's stupid. But he was cute, damnit!

Dr.H - Charming, above all else. And knows M&K, who are also Drs, and were his residents. Went to a bar after the event to "run into him" - to no avail. Not meant to be?

That doesn't even cover the ER resident who thought I was still hung up on him (sweetheart, what an ego!), or the very attractive, smart funny (taken!) guy I met through friends last week.

It's like everywhere I turn I'm beating my head against the wall! But at least I'm meeting them, and over half these boys are invited to the party this weekend, so.... let's just see what kind of trouble we can into then!

Summer II

I promised S I would take a bike ride to the park with her, then run/walk, then bike home. But when I called her at 615am, I just wasn't feeling it. J texted, asking if I had "written my play" last night... and when I called to tell him I had simply gone home and started rehearsing other people's plays, he said that didn't count. Once again, he managed to anger me into inspiration.

Went for a run on the bayou. Saw at least three different species of ducks, including a couple ducklings. Running, and especially running outside, feeling the embrace of humidity, is one of the best ways to get your body going. Your mind rolling. My "little kittycat brain" can bounce around from one topic to another, all of them falling in the wake of my steady left-right-left-right. Some days the breathing is right on, today it wasn't.

I have been listless for a while. Ambulatory in life, really. Wandering from one idea to another, none of them satisfying. From starting a B&B with S, to quitting my job and traveling the world with one boyfriend and the next like N, to now starting a vaudeville theatrette in my kitchen.

And then came Henry V. Not the king, really, but the play; the Shakespearean masterpiece, crudely butchered by well meaning ensemble "process." The ongoing problem with Ensemble work, I find, is that the lack of one central vision often leaves it like a chicken with its head cut off. The action kind of runs around, with no apparent direction, until it eventually falls flat.

Needless to say this is disappointing.

So I promptly went home and started tearing through my bookshelves, and settled (for now) on Claire from Delicate Balance, Albee; Antigone OR Medea; and I'm still cuing in on some Shakespeare. Maybe I'll just pick themes, rights? Claire is about drunk vs. alcoholic... so maybe we'll pull in some Williams, and there's gotta be something about drunkenness and debauchery in WS.

More to come....

Vacation I

I'm beginning to think I want to be a travel writer. I've watched my stepmother as a freelance writer, and that does NOT look like a fun career, but the prospect of traveling and being paid to write about it sounds like heaven on earth. So you, my fateful readers, are to be guinea pigs.

I got back from 10 days of vacation on Sunday: a weekend on the Michigan Coast for my aunt's weekend, a week in the birthplace of the Cajuns, and a weekend at a sugar plantation.

I flew Direct into O'hare, and rented a car with my mom. The great thing about renting cars is that they can totally blow your fantasy about owning one - I have loved Rams all of sort ever since Dodge came out with the Durango with the gnarly front end. So I've had a secret crush on the Dodge Magnum until we rented one. Yuck. So after 3 hours in ridiculous suburban sprawl traffic, we made it to sunny Union Pier, MI. Just outside of New Buffalo (because old Buffalo is so great?) Honestly, it really was gorgeous, and good to see my family.

(Note to self on future blog posts: Darr Girls.) My aunt was perhaps the most beautiful bride I've ever seen - and her first wedding at 58! I can only hope to be as lovely one day.

Great ceremony, decent food, great company, and dance dance dancing! Flew out on Sunday, just before I got really tired of all the people I'm related to.

I got word while I was still in the sunny north that Patoutville had been changed to Friday night... so I called my B&B and changed my reserversation, so I could arrive on Monday. Ended up driving to J's, and sitting onthe couch with him for hours instead of leaving. But as I said, "I'm on vacation. I can do whatever I want!" The drive down Highway 90 was beautiful, and I left just in time to not be blinded by Sunset as I drove west.

Summer I

J forgets how pretty I am when he doesn't see me. As if when he looks away I disappear. Every time I see him again, he gets this surprised look on his face, as if he has just seen me for the first time. Most of the time, I find it charming and sweet. But often I want to just slap him upside the head and say: "When will you remember I'm pretty?"

Patience

Still have not heard about the job. They say this week. Maybe. I expect a call from Helen Wait. *sigh* Patience, patience, patience.

June 1 is a big deadline for me, and then I calm down a little. Trying to get to the end of the month. The end of the fiscal year, too, I guess. The deadlines never stop. At least summer is slow.

Taking a vacation starting June 8. For 11 days. Amazing. Haven't taken that much time off in almost 2 years.

Am up in the air about what to do with my married friend. After confronting him, and getting advice, many of the older men I know simply say "Why not just take a compliment?"

I realize the problem is that I like him too much, not the other way around.

So the question still stands: should I be friends with said married man? So long as I can turn it off, I guess. And don't drink too much.

Oh dear, I almost forgot that I sent an email to someone on craigslist night. Ack. Apparently, my patience with singlehood is wearing thin.

The Running Theme

So what is it about me and married men?

Many years ago (or several, or a few, it just feels like many), when I was just out of the (lesbian) relationship with H, I met J. Not the J I talk about all the time, another J. To make it really confusing, he had a good friend J. Ha! The one J is not important: we dated a little, and I slept with him. My First man, mostly to get it out of the way.

The J that I'm talking about was his good friend, and our paths rarely collided after that. He has always been one of my favorite people: he is full of idealism, and hope, and he Does things instead of talking about them. He is Passionate, in short. He's also married. In the 3+ years I've known him, I have never met his wife. He also has two small kids at home, but... Always found it odd. Apparently they have separate lives, which is all well and good. But, yes. He's married.

So our paths have crossed more often lately, and I really enjoy his company, and invited him to my dinner party/housewarming, and he stayed a really long time and that made me very happy. We had a lovely moment when we both admitted we were one of each other's favorite people. And again, last night, he says
"People don't want to hear what I have to say."
"Really?" This I can't believe. He's full of ideas and information and progress and ... people really don't want to hear that?
"Really," he says.
"Well, I do."
"I know," he says, "that's why I love you."
"That's why I love you."

Now, this is not all googleyeyed loveydoveyness. This is two people in a great appreciation of each other. If you've experienced mutual awe and appreciation, you know how rare it is. If you haven't, I'm sorry; but hope you do some day.

So then we all play twister, and I have done yoga earlier, and Rock out and everybody's impressed and whatnot. (I realize this is a very odd moment in the midst of this whole story).

So J leaves shortly after this, we say goodnight, I stay a bit longer and leave within an hour. And when I get in my car, there's a text message from him:

u r so sexy.

This is a message from a grown man. A man with children. And a wife. And let me tell you it hit me like a ton of bricks and immediately turned me on and all I could think was "I'm going straight to hell."

J (my J, the J I always talk about), he tells me that I can't see him. And I know he's right. But I hate this. I HATE it. I responded to the text message in kind, reminding him that he is married, and that it kills me that he's married, but all the same.

So the question is, can you be friends with a man who you have a great deal of admiration, and attraction, and mutual attraction and... a wife?

Been awhile

When I wasn't drinking, I found it much easier to write write write all the time. Everything is crazy lately. One of the boys in the mix emailed to me today: "All is going well, of course, and hope you can say the same." Not really sure about that.

All is going well, of course? Things are great, sure. But I wax in and wane out of greatness too. Last week was a definite waning. J confused the hell out of me, as usual. Hormones hit me upside my head. Had to start cleaning out the house, which is now going to closing next week. I didn't realize how upset I was about it until I pulled into the driveway and started bawling. Apparently I've been avoiding it all for a reason?

Houses are funny things. That physical house, as it is now, is nothing important. But my emotional memory of the house is representative of my childhood, growing up, coming of age. But also symbolic of my support system, a safe place I could always come - Dad would always make me dinner and give me a place to sleep if I needed it. And sometimes we'd just sit around and watch TV or eat dinner or drink Tequila.

But there were a lot of days when it was much more than that. I remember sitting at the top of the stairs, he and mom on their way apart, and hearing a tone I didn't want to hear and going back into my room-prison. I remember that stupid ugly sofa - in the formal dining room, sobbing into my dad's chest because I was an overachieving and overwhelmed 16 yearold. And again, in the front parlour, after Marga had redone the house, talking Seriously about the future and whatIwantedtobewhenIgrewup. The breakfasts and dinners around that Queen Anne table that was never big enough but meant we all got to see each other's expressions.

So much of my 20 New Orleans years are tied in so many ways to that house, and now I have to say goodbye to it, and clean it out. It's just a house now, not a home anymore. A huge reminder that family is gone and I'm All Alone in this town.

And then there's my little house. Funny little house. I don't know what it is about women and nesting, but I sure have done my share of it. And I love my little house, even though I don't feel her in my bones yet. Not like the Zimpel House. She's given me a lot so far, and she's grown into a pretty little place, on the inside. Again, the outside is the closest I have to a security system, but she's all mine. There really is something to that.


nb.
J tells me 12pm and 12am are not times. Never could quite figure out why I prefered noon and midnight. Besides Auden's references to them.

Cars that Kill

Sometimes Google Links pops up funny little things.. this is one of them.

Oh, and did I mention the Mazerati in the parking lot today? Now THAT is a killer car.

clipped from ask.yahoo.com What is "new car smell"? Well, here's the bad news -- that aroma is actually a collection of noxious fumes caused by the various glues holding the car's interior together. And while collectively it may smell good, it's not at all good for you. ABC News explains that the new car smell may cause "headaches, sore throat, nausea, and possibly cancer." The United States doesn't have a law against the "volatile organic compounds" that cause new car smell, but some countries do. In the U.S., "new car interiors can contain 128 times the legal limit" in Australia.

For Old Time's Sake/Reentry

Old Time's Sake

Four years ago, on the last Sunday of Jazz Fest, and a party at T&A's, I met R. I was recently out of a relationship, and scoping the party, and he was pretty drunk and totally enamored of me. He impressed me by guessing my astrological sign on the second try.

This is also the first time I remember meeting J, although he claims we met before. He might be right. But I remember talking to R about baseball, and J about betting on the ballet. The only way to make it interesting, he continues to assert, is by betting on which ballerina will fall and break something.

So there I am, a little 23 year old girl, in over my head without realizing it, sitting in a circle of chairs with R to my right, me trying to carry on conversation with the group, he holding my hand and staring wistfully at me. How was this 30 year old man so goofy, I thought. We made out in the alleyway before I went home, and it was terribly fun, and S screamed down from her window at us... and he never called me again. When I ran into him months later, he admitted he had a girlfriend, and still had the girlfriend and.. well, yes. Men are idiots. And pigs.

So, this past Sunday, after the festival, all the people came to my house, and I was wearing my new skirt, and meeting people and having a great time... and everyone left except J, and... Do I have to say more? He said "You're being flirty." Really? Is that it? It would be so much easier if the sex weren't so unbelievable.

So then we go to T&A's, and R has arrived, and I take J home, but not before I tell R I wouldn't mind making out with him in the alley again. I return, and we make out on the couch. I have to say, 4 years is the longest its taken me to get to 3rd base! Maybe we'll sleep together next jazz fest.


Reentry.

Funny thing about all this is returning to a normal life. I went to the gym last night, and ran and worked out, and I feel like gangbusters today. I was excited to come to work, had new energy and whatnot. Also went to go see a show last night, which was a lot of fun (with the groom: is that bad?), but glad I didn't pay for the ticket.

Returning to normal life after 2 weeks of the festival or 2 weeks of carnival, or even 40 days of abstinence... that is the greatest challenge. My officemate asked me yesterday, "So what now? What happens in New Orleans now that Jazzfest is over?"

We count the days until Hurricane Season, I told him.

Bachelor Parties

I can't even really begin to tell this story because it's so completely absurd.

The other night, I met a guy who happened to be on a first date with a friend. I was pretty sure she wasn't interested, and he was pretty sure he was interested in me. We had all been drinking, so it was lots of fun, and hurrah and...

So his friend is getting married, and he very kindly invited me along to the bachelor party. Is this real? Did that happen? Are women even allowed at bachelor parties? Well, as A- said later, "If you gals hadn't been there it would have been about as thrilling as watching paint dry, what with all us blokes."

Oh, did I forget to mention they're British? All of them. British. A and S are from Liverpool, P from London, and I never got an origin from D. But trust me, all British. With teeth to prove it.

So my best girlfriend N and I get dressed to the nines, have a great dinner, go on to the strip club... At this point, she has picked up The Mastadon (beer goggles, my dear), and the groom is totally smitten with me, and telling me that I make a man have doubts.

*sigh*

How does this happen, really? So.. blah blah blah.. strip club, lap dances... blah blah blah... new bar... blah blah blah... another bar run by a friend of mine that just happens to be an Irish bar. Does anybody remember C? Anybody? Brought me a pumpkin on our first date? Right. He runs the bar.

Well, then C's bartender needs some change, and C says to me, "Want to see my office?" And next thing I know I'm having sex on the desk. I realize only afterwards that there is a security camera pointed directly at us, but he reassures me there is no tape, etc.

He called me yesterday to tell me that he and the Irish Bar have parted ways... and I can't help but wonder if there was a tape somewhere.

So that's pretty much the end of the evening. Did kiss A, sweet old chap that he is, and he is now permanently smitten and calling and texting every other minute.

So what do I do? When S (the groom, mind you) emails me and invites me to see the show we talked about tonight, I think... what the hell? The music is damned good.

I do not have ESP

I have an email from my daily astrology link that says "Do you have ESP?" They're going for the catchy title.

I don't. I just applied for a job, which I am very excited about, but have no idea if I'll get. I'm a crazy theatre girl, and this is a crazy theatre job, managing a national network of crazy theatre people. No idea who else is applying, but am incredibly anxious about such a possibility.

If I had ESP, I would know what would happen.

I don't know who's calling when the phone is ringing. Except when it rings "Sexy Back." Cause that's J.

I have noticed, however, that since I started drinking again I'm happier. I've just relaxed a little. Drinking does that to a person.

More chiropractic therapy. House is almost done.

JAZZ FEST is around the corner. Brass Pass is ready. I'll write more then. I promise. Assuming I'm not out living it.

Preliminary Exhaustion

I woke up this morning and both hands were numb; even left, which took a solid 5 minutes to awake. *sigh* So much for the adjustments.

Had a dreadful and long day at work, which has only just ended.

I did have a very rewarding bitch session with J, although I realized despite how hard I work, and how long I have been there (nearly 5 years!) I still get paid less than he does as an office PA. Granted, my hours are better, and hourly I make more than he, but...

He's a fucking office PA. I was running a theatre company 6 years ago! I could do his boss's job with a beautiful smile on my face and make everybody happy while I was doing it!

And then the dinner party is Sunday. And the house isn't ready, and I honestly know that I'll finish the food and everyone will be happy (and hopefully they will all have a place to sit!), but I'm already exhausted, and it's supposed to be the FUCKING weekend.

And did I mention that I realized today I really fucked up at work and almost missed submitting an application for our operating support from the state that would have lost us $50K, and that's way more than my salary, and they've fired grant writers for less. It's all worked out theoretically, but everything has to be in the office by 5 on Wednesday. Which means it all has to be done on Tuesday night. And it's not a ton, but its enough to be anxious about, and I already have 3 applications due that day, and

did I mention I'm exhausted?

Scamming

So I went to the chiropractor today. My carpal tunnel has returned with a vengeance, and I can't figure out how to make it go away, and M swears that a chiropractor cured her Meniere's disease many years ago.

So I get there at 9:15, and he's a very nice man. He is portly, but looks like all his weight fell about 3 inches too low - he is shaped like a babushka doll, which I could open up and find a smaller chiropractor inside.

He talks to me, and I tell him my whole story (and feel like I'm complaining - which I always do), and he does his physical exam. Then he takes some x-rays of my neck and pelvis/low back to get an idea. Turns out my lower back is beautiful. Straight from the front, with a beautiful curvature. The way all lumbar/sacral spines should look. I am very proud of my spine.

My neck, however, is a different story. From the front, the vertebrae are ever so crooked. The profile shows an almost straight line; but, alas! My cervical spine should have the same beautiful curvature as my lumbar! Shoot! What's wrong with me?

So Dr.M has confirmed his theory that there's something in my neck causing the carpal tunnel, and proceeds to make his adjustment. The first is the very bottom of my spine - right above my sacrum it seems. He's just chatting away, and lays me on my side and I don't know what to expect and he's all sweet and gentle and SNAP. It's quick and nearly painless, like pulling off a bandaid. I'm greatful this man is so nice and M referred me, since he has already jokingly referred to a patient he could have killed by adjusting him with a hairline fracture of his C1 (atlas) vertebrae.

He makes a couple more adjustments, and then sends me in to have my IT band electrocuted, which the sweet nurse explains is more like deep massage than anything. It is not comfortable - feels like having a tattoo at its worst - but at the end, my right IT band feels... well, more NORMAL than anything. It feels balanced. This is a lovely way to feel, by the by.

I get one more brief exam, and he sends me on my way. $335 later I'm not 100% sure this is really worth the money, and not yet convinced that it's not a big scam, and that people who go to chiropractors aren't just in a cult. Like Waco with back cracking.

But I'll go at least one more time. We'll see. When I went into work the shoulder pain came back almost immediately, so I moved my computer monitor. Cost: $0.

Substance Part II

II. Living in the Moment.

This is a big topic. And I've been thinking a lot about it lately.

On Sunday, afterwards, when J and I were discussing, he said "They say it's good to live in the moment. I'm not so good at it, but sometimes..." Granted, this was his justification for our "casual" sex. I just wonder if its so casual. Although, on Sunday it was I guess. Casual enough for me to go have sex with someone else.

Religion addresses this often, I think; in varying and varied degrees. In yogic theory, being present is very important. I've always associated this with Living in the Moment (the elusive moment), but perhaps there is a difference. Christianity does NOT approve of living in the moment: one should live for the afterlife, although it varies from one denomination to the others. Not sure about Judaism or Hindu or Islam's take on this - but it seems they are all quite focused on the "next life". It's not so good for a society as a whole if everyone lives for the moment.

And is there a difference between living IN the moment and living FOR the moment. Living IN it implies that you do not think about past or future. Let go of all the baggage from the past, and ignore the consequences (good or bad) in the future. Just do, right now, what's right for you. Notice I did not only say do "what's right." Living FOR the moment; what's that? It implies that there is no future; you might get hit by a bus and whatnot. I guess the latter idea is a little more reckless, but they are both quite selfish.

This is why religion, and therefore society, do not like these "momentary" living strategies. It's important that we all take care of one another, and religion and all that strategy are designed to reinforce societies and keep us all living (relatively) happily and safely together.

But back to the yogic concept: be present. Discard the futile fragile things, and just boil it down to what's truly important. Be not unkind to people and yourself, and work towards oneness. That's oneness with yourself (being totally present) and oneness with the greater spirit. It gets a little woo-woo, I suppose, and I'm paraphrasing hugely.

I sent a drunken text message on Sunday Night to D, the true object of my affection lately, and I was beating myself up for it later. N said "What have you got to lose?" In the end, this is best advice I think. If you live in the moment and recklessly, you spend your savings and you "lose" your future security. But, "After a bottle of wine... when are you taking me to dinner?" doesn't lose me much, except maybe a little face.

I'm still not decided about whether sleeping with J is wise. But living in the moment it certainly was.

Substance Part I

Returning now to the previously interrupted thoughts.

I. Empirical Knowledge.

The problem with life is that you have to learn from your mistakes. You are taught from childhood to make mistakes, take the risks, and let the chips fall where they may. If you get the wrong answer, you learn to do it differently the next time. So, for example, poor N yesterday learned (again) that he really shouldn't drink that much. And, in reference to previous topics, A got burned by J, so she's gonna steer clear. Right?

Here's why this is a problem: Especially when it comes to interpersonals, there very often isn't a "right" answer. A knows that the last time they were together, J left her and "broke her heart." In his defense, she also told him in there somewhere that she "wasn't sure she was ever in love with him."

There are no "right" people, just like there are no "right" relationships. The decision you make is the best decision, because it's the only decision. But we've been conditioned our whole lives that there IS a right answer to every question. We've even been conditioned to what the "right" answer to THIS question is: the way we should look, dress, behave, talk, laugh. We all should eventually be married to someone of the opposite gender, and same race, religion, socioeconomic background and educational history. We should have a mortgage and 2.3 kids and drive a 7 passenger vehicle (even if now it's a hybrid) and live in the suburbs and commute and retire at 65 and play golf. That's a very White reality, but it's what we're supposed to do. That's "right" place to be. That's "success". It's success that drives the consumer driven machine that makes money the be all and end all.

Ironically, if you have enough money (therefore enough time) you can spend the time and emotional energy to figure out what "success" is to you. Maybe, like me, you realize that money isn't really all that important. There are things that are, like family, and passion, and friends.

So here, empirical knowledge is incredibly helpful. You know what makes you happy. You know who you want to spend time with. And this is where it gets tricky. What happens when your empirical knowledge is contradictory? Poor A still spends a lot of time with J, but has managed to not sleep with him for months. She has stayed faithful to her boyfriend, and all that seems to go well enough. But J still does make her happy, enough that she does still spend time with him - and it makes all of us happy to spend time with someone who loves us and is willing to put the energy in.

Unfortunately for J, the only thing A has learned empirically is that when they're together he hurts her, and when they're apart he does the work.