Between moving, travelling, a new, long and arduous commute, houseguests, writing class, last-minute auditions, social commitments, school graduation anticipation and my new amazing house crush, regular writing has gone by the wayside. No excuses, just reality. Everything I planned to move forward on in March has now filtered into another softer ray of light. Just think Madonna’s make-up mirror before her early morning wheatgrass shot of agelessness and a chia seed colonic.
I have been quietly beating myself up about certain things and last night, I awoke at 3 a.m. to a punch on my earlobe from the guilt fairy. This little asshole with green wings and a sour attitude tap-danced in my ear and left me for dead after saying some pretty big words for a very small woodland creature.
Sure, this half-baked Tinkerbelle was a figment of my imagination and possibly the residual effect of a three-day weekend with good weather and bad food choices. That’s what an overdose of greasy sunscreen, rolled mystery meat products and poolside Q&A sessions that go nowhere will do to you. Oh, come on! You know the ones.
“How are you?”
“Is that a Polska Kilbasa or are you happy to see me?”
“What are you up to this summer?”
“Are your beaded sandals Montauk for Marshall’s or McCartney for Costco?”
“Grilled, organic Italian sausages remind me of so many failed summer romances of my youth. And you?”
“We are going to public next year. Are you judging me right now or did you get a red cupcake sprinkle in your left eye?”
But after getting back to sleep and having the crazy-ass dreams of a subpar LSD intern I woke up with a renewed sense of determination and focus. Now every writer knows that a statement like that could very well be the kiss of death to a great workday. It may even stunt the growth of a ruminating paragraph or a gestating past participle. In either case I wanted to say it, had to write it and most definitely need to feel it.
There is a lot of material going on in my life right now. Just look at the oodles and puddles of funny and sad and random and daunting and haunting. I met and photographed my Dlisted heroine Courtney Stodden last week and she was shit buckets of nice and now I feel guilty for mocking a girl who married an old man and a young lady who wears a dirty tube sock and Lucite high heels to Whole Foods.
My sister came to visit two weeks ago and we got along like, well, sisters, a huge step in a very strange and unlikely direction.
After planning out our entire summer to the day and hour and minute everything flipped upside down and we are now going with the flow and controlling none of it. Did I mention I WILL NOT renew my Xanax prescriptions for the overnights at the relative’s homes because I think I can handle it caveman style? We shall see.
I had a visit from a great, old school pal and feel renewed that healthy, fun and inspiring friendships actually do exist and that no one has to ever settle for less just because someone is a bully or needy or batshit crazy or plain old mean.
My father has been in the hospital for the last three days with pneumonia and I actually spelled pneumonia correctly without Spell Check or a dictionary cheering me on. Oh and yeah. He is going home today and I have been in major denial that he even got sick in the first place. Not going to let another fall. No way.
Dave bought me a new bike for Memorial Day, in lieu of flowers, of course.
We have a new pet Black Widow living in our waterspout outside our kitchen door. I am terrified. Otto is thrilled. Her name is now Sophie. Gack!
Dave had a major blow out on the freeway on Friday while driving Otto to school and his truck is so old and funky but took such good care of them as the tire exploded instead of flipping like a new car in just coasted to the side without any fanfare or flames. I am so grateful that no one got hurt but we still have to buy a new car because the truck will not pass inspection and the gas mileage is 5 mpg and a few things are broken… like the odometer, speedometer, heat, A/C, door locks, power windows and left rear mirror. This really sucks pole.
I went in for a dream job last Thursday and hoping I get it or last make the short list of candidates. Meanwhile, I am trying not to think about it by washing my kids underwear, spying in the neighbor’s cat contemplating a crap in our yard, mentally re-organizing the office and emotionally eating lunch.
I was just given the amazing gift of seeing Roger Waters perform The Wall live. It was epic, moving, intense, life affirming and tragic.
Here’s to an album and a man who started me thinking at the age of twelve and got me to cry like a baby last week under an L.A. sky of possibilities and punk rockers.
A man I saw walking into the concert. Committed and cool as soda pop.
Until next time,