SNOW DAY FOR EMMYLOU!

I did start another post earlier today. But I just got absorbed with the snow and with watching The Walking Dead on DVD. Then John and I watched The Shining on IFC (Melinda is in Cincinnati for the holiday) . So, I am just going to leave you all with pictures of Emmylou seeing snow for the first time.

It is not writing but it is some attention to the practice. Emmy was quite amazed by the snow, running from the back window to the front to look at the movement in the sky. I tried to explain to her that, being a Norwegian Forest Cat, she should embrace the cold, but she was not convinced. 

Cooder saw no reason to interrupt her daily routine, and was happy to nest in the pillows.

CARPE DIEM CLAW

What I need, what others need is a carpe diem pill! A morning dose of caffeine certainly helps but sheesh! in my case, I have to get out of bed, walk through the apartment, grind the beans, find the stovetop espresso maker blah blah blah ... and then wait. And then do it again, because the first cup I barely registers. And even coffee doesn't make me joyous and enthused about gettin' stuff done and movin' on up. And even inasmuch as I love coffee, the morning ritual drink is not as enticing as being surrounded in down and good sheets with a ticked tabby's fat belly up against your cheek and a silky striped kitteh's head asleep in your hand. That's like heroin to me, it cannot miss a vein.

Later that same day.

Wow. I just took a down-the-rabbit-hole kind of nap. Morpheus just grabbed me and took me far away. I slept for four hours solid. Many people would not call that a nap at all, but jeez maybe a whole night's sleep or something.

I'm going out for a drink with the Martha from Montreal who wandered up to Larry outside Flanagan's in Schroon Lake at 11:30 at night, needing a place to stay the night before she headed on down to Billyburg. Mom, Debee, and I had a rollicking dinner with her just before they went home. And now, about a month later, Martha heads back to Montreal and thence, I believe to New Zealand for two months. Details to follow.

No question that I am the "seeds and stems again" moment as I spent my last safety money. I had two traveller's checks from the last time I went abroad ... 1995, sadly ... that were my emergency funds. I went to Chase today to cover a small overdraft and get change so that I could sell at Iris' flea market in Queens on Sunday.

Now it is Saturday.

Jininey Xmas! I had such a great time with Martha, even if we did drink at the enemy bar across the street. Lovely lovely time.

Meanwhile, Emmy is climbing up my leg for attention, so I am afraid I will have to leave you to attend to her.

DOES DO

Emmy has learned to sit in that weird way. It is so funny to see her get more catlike each day. I mean, I know she is a cat ... but it is still startles me. I think I see that wide-eyed skinny critter and yet here she is turning into a big ol' no-holds-barred kitteh.

I have been sitting, slightly chilly, at my desk most of the day. I guess I could look for warmer clothes.

I've been kind of irritable, even though Trader Joe's had plenty of Lime Popsicles today. Even though after driving around looking for a parking space at TJ's, I found one dead in front with 33 minutes on the meter. That should have been enough to change my mood. But no.

I do rail about the universe. I drive around trying how to make parking more sane. I had to speak sternly to myself so that I did not do anything rash and stupid in the rain. I wanted to lash and act out all over the place. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Life is hard. Deal with it, sister.


Well, coming off of my maintenance anti-depressants might be adding to it. I suppose I am not supposed to say such things in public where they can be held against me.

The good news tonight is that Pammie did not have to have her finger amputated. Yay!!! The doctor was able to put in some pins. This will prohibit her ability to bend the finger, but I will work in other ways. So I will be grateful to the universe for the grace given to Pammie who deserves it if anyone does.

I wasn't out enough, nor was I in a good enough mood to take any interesting pictures. Emmylou will have to do. She (and Cooder) does (do) for me.

POPSICLES FOR GIN

I slept twelve hours or more last night. The sadness pressing me to unconsciousness. I woke up this morning surrounded by cat bellies, Cooder wrapped around my head, Emmylou curled around my hand.

I'm still all over the place and, of course, still right here at the old desk, having only ventured out today as far as Junior's Deli to get myself a Mash. Squirrelly, I am. Overly snyaptically challenged. Firing all over.

And in that random spirit, I will ask whether y'all have ever had the experience of pulling out an old album or CD, one you haven't listened to in years. Tossed on whatever player, the cavalier listener wanders off to whatever task the music was to be background for. But the music is insistent on being heard, really listened to. I'll bet you might have.

I cannot recall the last time I played Norma Waterson. The review in the link there BARELY touches on the magnificence of this recording. Okay okay. I admit I am prejudiced as RT is the lead player and is all over the recording. But Martin Carthy is Norma's husband, no slouch either, and he is equally evident. I just hear RT like Nipper listening to his master's voice.

Rich as 95% dark chocolate. Nourshing as a draft Guinness in Ireland. Heart-wrenching as The Wizard of Oz or Old Yellar. It just fills up your ears completely. Click here to download a taste.

Some wheels spinning, some progress. Slightly flirtatious with depression, but just a toe-in-and-a-toe-out-kind-of-a-thing. My friend's situation is always beneath the surface as I think of her in the hospital, afraid and wondering how it all came to pass. This is fucked-up, my friends. Fuck-up on top of fuck-up. Perfidy permeating a life and eroding it, chewing away at the structure.

Emmylou discovered yarn yesterday. And there is a lot of it around. She's guiltier than she looks in this photo.

I ate a lot of lime popsicles today.  Better than drinking a bottle of gin, I suppose.

In other news, I let another adult (Iris) into my house today. That is always hard for me. I am not sure she even noticed the messy parts, so enchanted was she with the cool stuff everywhere.

DOWN TO THE BONE

No philosophy today either. I struggled with focus all day. Things were accomplished but I felt as if I were running or striving to stay ahead.

I'm making progress in the job hunt and all. I come up with a new idea for a movie or a tv show about every day, so the wheels there are turning.

But various friends of mine are having various problems. L who lost her 19-year old kitty last summer replaced him with two Java sparrows as her apartment does not allow cats or dogs. One of the birds flew away while she was cleaning the cage. Maybe not a tragedy, but another loss is another loss.

And a close friend who has a terribly compromised immune system is losing a finger due to a cut that would not heal (why did I write "feel" the first time and not even notice?). The infection got down to the bone. She's such a fighter and has a very difficult life. After all that, like so many of us, we have no one to take care of us. We aren't exactly alone, but we're not exactly cared for either.

So, I'll spare you the rest of the Barbara Bummer riffs and just go to bed.

Here's what I woke up to

Kind of scary, right? Speaking of scary, Halloween is everywhere.

Kent and Mary at the Double Windsor last night.

WAITING ON PHILOSOPHY

I had some higher and mightier things to write about today. I read. I contemplated. I thought about writing. And then I saw a long-time, never-met friend from my mixing site was in Brooklyn and somehow close to where I lived. I called up John, who had about retired for the evening, with the bait that another AOTM friend was in town. This was sufficiently enticing for him to get dressed and we went out to meet Kent and his g.f. Mary at the Double Windsor.

 A few years ago, shortly after John and Mel got married, Cliff and Helene came over from France.  We had a most outrageously fun time. Cliff and Helene were in town for four or five days and I think we hung out with them three or four times within that time. I met Cliff and Helene right when I was meeting with Scott and got hired at SEFX. In fact, we all went out to celebrate. I certainly need some employment mojo, so I could not pass up the chance to rekindle the AOTM magic.

Affinities run deep ... into your life they will creep ... to strangely paraphrase For What It's Worth. Kent and I had exchanged mixes and politics for a few years now. I had met two other folks from that website (Art of the Mix) and found them to be quite affable. So, I took a chance and so did John.


We walked in, I recognized Kent having snorkeled around his FB page, and the fun just took off.

I despair, from time to time, about being able to meet people and be spontaneous. I should remember this evening. We instantaneously began to wisecrack and chatter. Had it been a weekend evening, I am pretty sure we would still be out pounding it all down. Level heads prevailed, however, and we were able to walk away with our sobriety and dignity fairly intact.

Meanwhile, back at reality camp, I did make progress on creative outreach and even short-term job hunting. I met with my lunch crew (Ken, Charlie, and Louise).

The philosophy will have to wait.

AM I DOWN TO SEEDS AND STEMS AGAIN, TOO?

So this is #363. The plan was a year of posting daily. I didn't quite make that, but I did okay. The question on the current table is whether or not to continue. And I suppose I need to review what I've done. No! It's not 363 postings as I have some drafts in there that were never posted.

But the anniversary will be here soon.

As the last few posts have reported, my Rhinebeck time with Louise was most productive. I look forward to more such days of working, lounging, cooking, and chatting. And the drive back this morning was spectacular ... not full Fall color, but stunning enough for these perennially West Coast eyes. I actually got up at 7:00 am, showered, and had coffee with Louise who had kindly risen to insure proper caffeination before driving. I had come up with another idea for a movie while showering and we did a good 20 minutes worth of work on still another project. We didn't get everything covered as it was. So that's good.

Emmylou was stressed by my being gone. Her is upper respiratory infection is back.  Sneezilla. Cooder, Emmylou, and I took a riduculous nap this afternoon, like four hours or something. (I hope I can sleep tonight. I'd best look for the ambien. I hadn't had a sleep that deep in ages.) Emmylou took a big step toward catdom today when she sat on my lap for several minutes just to have petting. She has been too much of a squirmudgeon previously. 

And so back to the salt mines of job hunting and the stresses of "down to seeds and stems" as the potheads used to say. Counting pennies, etc. My mood, energy, and hopefulness are up thanks to the weekend. I have one friend who keeps encouraging me to move back to Southern California, les texts:


Lui: The mierda is rattling down the chutes. Many must make decisions or decisions will be made for them. Not to sound dire, though I am, but SoCal may be your best bet for the end game.


Moi: Am I dying?


Lui: Absolutely not. But I am being honest as I am with many people in this quarter year. I don't know why. Maybe it is some sort of "truth telling" season. Look forward ten years and see where you want to be. Don't fake it and expect the fates are going to be kind to you. Hard as it is to say ... The streets are full of those who have.


Moi: Hmmm... more later.

Lui: And those people, Sally, look more and more like people like us. And in fact ... they are us. No fooling. They are us. And they don't get to have cats or books or anything they Fucking can't haul around in a dairy crate. No less smart than you or I [sic]. No less gifted in their time. Fucking terrifying. Window is closing, my Friend. Make plans for it. 

Sorry to be so elegiac but spent 30 minutes with a young friend of mine (39?40?) who will not last another week. I thought, holding her hand, of Miep. 

Shit, Sally, we are treading a thin vail here.

Harrowing.

Moi: Veil. Alarmism? Alarmistism? Darlin', I have no intention or plans to leave ...

To be continued? I just don't see how moving back to Southern California, at least right now, would be either a step forward or any easier than hanging on here ... 

Cosmo saw me off to bed last night. That or he though I might try to do something to Erik and Louise. He sat in my doorway. Actually, he probably wondered where the official occupant of the room, Rachel, might be. (Wisconsin, missed by her cat and her parents.)

WORKIN' AND CHILLAXIN'

Not so much more to report. Insomnia visited for awhile last night after I posted, but that was as likely due to just a bit more of Erik's lime daquiri than was ABsolutely necessary than anything else. I was a bit extra aware and didn't fall deeply asleep until the morning. On the other hand, that isn't so unusual for me.

Louise and I finished watching the episode of Dalziel and Pascoe we had left unfinished last night and then set out for the Bard campus and the Montgomery Estate where we ate Bread Alone sandwiches and talked about a variety of development projects. Taking a break from Monsterwood was a relief.

And so the day passes. Louise and I made a paella (stovetop) for dinner which we have yet to eat. We passed several yard/estate sales but only went to one where I succumbed to spending my last ten dollars on a copper double boiler with a ceramic insert and a good-looking pair of vintage pinking shears.

The sky outside Bread Alone.

Fleur still blooming in Fall.

This tree is orange. Bad filter.

Fall foilage. Right. But it was!

The top of a tree left as sculpture. Goldsworthy watch out.

Autumnal view from Montgomery Place. Bad filter.

Looking the other way.

More of above.

Montgomery Place.

Another, different bad filter.

Louise attempting to reason with Cosmo.

AH, CLERMONT

Look, I have no reason in this exact moment to complain. I am in a wonderful wonderful house in Rhinebeck. Louise and Erik are beyond gracious and welcoming, Erik going so far as to make killer daquiris, hand-squeezing the limes himself. And after two and some wine, I am still fairly conscious.

Louise and I worked hard today on life issues as well as Monsterwood. 'Tis a thing remarkable to come to any clarity on subterranean issues, even as it might be uncomfortable. Resolutions and actions are still to be reached, but insight and articulation have progressed.

We went to about my favorite place along the Hudson, Clermont, one of the oldest homes in the Valley.

Back of Clermont.

Clermont view of Hudson and Catskills.

Another view of Hudson from Clermont.

Grounds at Clermont.

Looking south.

Betts showed Clermont to me the first year I lived in New York. It is one of my spiritual places however I don't visit it all that often.

So, no progress on some immediate material issues, but great progress on spiritual, emotional, and creative issues. 

At this point, in this creepy lifetime where we find ourselves, that is something to be pleased about.

NOT SO BAD

So tonight I am at Louise's ah-mazing house in Rhinebeck. We worked on MW for the two hours we drove up here and, as usual, got a lot done. But we always get a lot done when we work, which is one of the reasons I adore and respect and enjoy working with her. After some noshing and a reasonable imbibing, we retired our thinking brains to watch some mid-90s British television. Oh hell, we relaxed and it was great.

And now I take a sigh. I'm just in a period of watching and (trying to) listening to myself. I have been in this situation of risk and borderline disaster before. For all those times of danger (unemployment, losing home, what to do? etc.), my personal map or chart is not yet clear. How exactly did I get here? Was it the same every time?

I am saddened to admit that I feel/fear some of it has to do with my self-image and esteem. One finds one asking oneself who one is and what is one's worth. And one still wears the same monkey suit. I just want to prevent myself from finding myself here again if I, indeed, am part of the problem.

Yeah, there are national and international circumstances that make this period all the more poignant and difficult. So, I do not have the blame thrower trained this way. But I am asking.

And I am sleepy. Trader Joe's did not have any lime popsicles today so you can imagine how I thought the day might go.

Fuzzy pictures of Rhinebeck house.

Cosmo likes to drink from the faucet.

WALKING BLIND

In the minds of many, my current good mood would likely be questioned. I am really almost out of money with not much immediate prospect of cash or a job. But I am generally in reasonable, concerned, scheming, planning, slightly anxious, but reasonable spirits. I am moving towards some clarity about myself and perhaps some of the twists of personality and fate that have me at such a place.

I do like the word "perhaps" ... it adds some process to realizations and/or facts. I have always thought that "consideration" was an undervalued concept. Indeed, one of the things that strikes me most in the travails of married or settled couples is that they stop "considering" one another. Familiarity must  erode consideration. That and the identification and extension of ego that can be part of partnering.

I put off writing for too long to wade far into this pool of musing. I spent quite a bit of time with my friend/colleague JR today discussing the screenplay as well as his current state of being. Without intending to, I analyzed the problems with the script and went on to J's frustrated life with more acuity and less sympathy. I had not been asked my opinion, yet I did not spare the candor.

I had not realized how similar we are on certain psychological levels. The anger and rejection that comes with bad parenting really does stay with us. J and I, for likely different reasons, have an unlikely passivity. Letting things happen to us allows us to use that storehouse of anger and feel righteous. 

Admittedly, this is superficial and unclear, but I am still purposely walking blind, feeling my way through this, rather than trying to articulate and control my feelings or perceptions. This too is probably vague. I won't know until tomorrow.

Emmylou is quite perplexed by the whole idea of baths. She worries while I am in the tub. 

OOOPS I DID IT AGAIN

A lime popsicle goes a long way to restoring one's vitality. Not really, but it tasted good.

Went up to Tarrytown tonight to see RT with Bryan and Shirin. Great show. But I got lost on the way back trying to take a short cut that I nearly always mess up. Ooops, I did it again and added an hour on to my return home.

So, out the window goes my plan to write about how I realized I am a risk taker and not so happy about it. I cannot put together any more thoughts. Must play with kitten and sleep.

BLABTHERING RT

Janine and I went to see RT at Town Hall on Saturday night. Town Hall is just off Times Square. We ran into a lot of traffic as we were "dashing" to the gig in a cab. Once we got out of the cab, I realized that Occupy Wall Street had moved up to Occupy Times Square. I wish I had taken a photo of the police cars lining 42nd Street from 6th Avenue west to Times Square. And the rows and rows of police persons. And there was not a lot of activity where we were. Overkill or prepared-ness? You be the judge.


I've seen RT quite a few times, enough so that I can neither remember nor count them all, but let's say between 20 and 30 times since 1986 or '87 ... I was a little slow to the party. I think the first time was at the Cotati Cabaret in Cotati, California, which is near Petaluma. I know I was still working at Colossal Pictures as we had a coterie that went up. My brother David and my dear friend Terry came up from Santa Cruz, which added another two hours to their trip, about 4 hours each way. The Cotati Cabaret was a former church. And we did worship that night. I remember my exhilaration during the long drive back to down to Berkeley. I didn't even regret it at work the next day.


And so it went, me seeing Richard pretty much whenever I could, catching shows in San Juan Capistrano, Boston, Seattle, Poughkeepsie besides the bigger cities I've lived in. I thought the high point might have been two years ago at City Winery at an all-request show. Janine (again!) and I had great seats and I am still amazed and humbled by his barn-burning live rendition of Hard On Me (that's a studio version there). He was a bit loathe to play it as he said it was really a live band song, but then he just played the living daylights out of it.


Undoubtedly, I could put you all to sleep (no matter when you are reading this) blabthering on about RT. This show was different in that it was so good, it was ALL so good, that I felt as if I were overating coquilles st. jacques as fast as I could. (Heart attack to heaven.) It was like shovelling brilliance at us. No modulation, no blinders, no sunglasses. The full sun of a musical genius shone right on us. The hall is smallish, the acoustics were fantastic and I had a great great view of Richard so that I could watch him play, which is about the most mesmerizing thing in my life. 


Here's what Michael Giltz said about the RT Band Dream Attic tour which stopped at Town Hall the year before (I was at a yoga retreat, okay?)


"the music built and built and built with Thompson tearing into a guitar solo that virtually lifted the crowd off its feet. (I say virtually because we actually stayed seated so we wouldn't miss a note before leaping and roaring our pleasure.) Thompson was deep into it when he slowly worked his way back out again, finally looking up at his bandmates with a look of pleasure and setting them all off on another fierce passage.

The world is filled with virtuosos, guys who can play the guitar in a fast and flashy manner. What is it about Thompson's playing that elevates it so? First, of course, the solos are musically consistent -- they follow an internal logic (often a mathematical one that we instinctively respond to even if we couldn't parse it). But Thompson's solos are never just about runs or showing off. They're also emotional journeys."

Ummm ... emotional yes. I don't know how RT could keep playing. He did three encores after a blistering 90 minutes. I was dazed. And for the first time in my life, I actually wanted him to stop. I needed to absorb the wonder that I had beheld. I had been moved to tears, goosebumps, and gasps. 

"...he's constantly illuminating while giving very little away. Serious, with flashes of dry humour, he shies away from the cult of personality. Instead, he thinks deeply about music, its function in society, how and why it does what it does, and he certainly knows his stuff. The last time we spoke, he talked knowledgeably about gangsta rap and emo, and explained why he is often drawn to darker subject matters.

"In a song, often you're dealing with slightly troubling things below the spoken desires of the audience," he said. "As a songwriter, you look for those things. Sometimes it can be unsettling for the audience, especially the ones that deal with serious subjects, but because it's entertainment you can do it and the audience will go through that process – they almost like to be unsettled. It's part of the job."

Read the rest of that article here.

My ears are still full of RT. And I get to see him again tomorrow night!

WHAT I KNOW ABOUT THE NATURE OF CHANGE

Friday

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Just more in a reading  mood today than a writing one. Maybe it is the grey weather, but I have been more drawn to other worlds than my own.

I did do laundry and some other sundry things ...

and then I was attacked by Emmylou and really could not go on writing.

Saturday

And now, as it is Saturday afternoon,  I have a Cooder wanting some attention. What is a poor girl to do?

Sunday

And now on to Sunday without a post.

Again, nothing really wrong, just in a distant mode, non-communicative, pensive.

I took a walk to the park today as I was in danger of squandering a beautiful autumn day. I called my friend KaHu in California. Since the passing of our friend Barbara, there have been many other changes in that circle. D is mostly down in Los Angeles working on a new series for Disney Junior. His husband, E, quit his job at Chronicle Books. CW has her house on the market and is planning to go back to get a Master's degree in Library Science. CW's was my home in Oakland in many ways, so it is a bit of a shock to find it, too, was transient.

My friends in Oakland and Berkeley seemed so stable, a group and a place I could always drop in and be welcomed and cared for. I often think of the life I didn't lead with these people when I chose to move to Los Angeles and then New York. A parallel life I didn't lead. But I always thought would be there for me.

Shows what I know about the nature of change.

EASY SKANKIN'

Less grumpy, but still on the tail-end of a wet cat mood.

I woke up in the middle of the night, wrestling with a narrative/structural problem for one of the new possible projects Louise and I are discussing. Then I couldn't get back to sleep. And then I hadn't been able to fall asleep to begin with.

Sounds to me like a situation wherein oversleeping and undersleeping can happen at the same time.

And then, after trying to oversleep through my undersleep, I had to go to ComiCon. Bless the hearts and pockets of those who adore graphic novels and all the merchandise that go with them. But I can't take too much of that before I get overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Tomorrow I guess I will have to catch up on this strange story about skanky Egyptian diplomats and the urgent need to bomb Iran asap.

ICH BEIN EIN OSCARER

Oh, what are the sources of such grouchiness? And sadly, not Groucho-ness. When one stops to think about it, it is rather laughable.

Today's reasons for grouchiness:

- dirty jeans
- grey weather
- no money
- no job
- dead underwear
- working on resume
- working on html
- dirty refrigerator

I told you they were mostly stupid reasons.

- world financial situation
- bad grammar
- general lack of focus
- vague lack of direction
- too much to do
- too much to read
- cleaning litter boxes
- emptying trash
- bad hair
- worn clothing
- no money to buy clothing
- Renee Zellweger
- malfunctioning phone function on cell phone (at least I have it)
- Senate rejecting jobs bill


I think that's enough of a list. There are a couple of not-as-funny things, too. Some dear friends are having troubles with over-indulgence and that is always hard to watch. I had to take Tupie to the vet again, this time for an ear infection. He's old and not his happy, loud self.

So, really it could be worse. The list does not include anything like nearby suicide bombers or stepping in stinky dog shit or fire in the apartment or bedbugs.

You know, I am also cranky because I am reading another book, this one is called When She Woke, which has a lovely premise but reads way too much like a Harlequin Romance (better written to be sure).

Sing "whine, whine go away, come again another day ..."

In better news, it may be that Cooder and Emmylou are moving towards a playful relationship. That would be most swell.

I did a couple of things I have been avoiding. Progress again.

Emmy has started to sleep on the pillows, where Cooder and Miep used to sleep. (Cooder will be back, I daresay.) These are her back paws that she is stretching into my face.

And doesn't she look REMARKABLY like Cooder? 

GRUMPY CRANK

I had a reasonably productive day. But I am just a bit down this evening. I am not in the mood for reflection or reporting. Maybe it was not getting a nap.

I did try to nap but there was some hubbub outside for quite a long time. A school bus and two emergency vehicles idled for many many minutes, and even through the closed window, I could not sleep. Perhaps that low drone kept me agitated. And after they left, a Fresh Direct truck parked nearby, with its refrigeration running as usual.

I can hear the barflies yarbling and smoking outside, getting their last "licks" in before the cold weather sets in and they can't comfortably sit outside.

Now, doesn't this all sound like a grumpy crank who would better serve the world by crawling into bed for a good night's sleep? I thought so.

ANOTHER MONDAY ... NOT SO MANIC

11:30 am (and I have been up and at the computer for two hours already).

It is a little hard to know what to do and what to think when you are at my particular stage of precariousness. No income. No job. No direction? (More like too many.) Not young. Bad economy. Personal debt. No savings. Nada. Zilch. Rien de tout.

Well, that is not entirely true. I do have stuff. Not much of much value, but lots of stuff. 

I also seem to have my good mood around. I am neither depressed nor despairing. I cannot say what is up with that, given my prediliction for the dark side.

I try to keep my bliss ninny-isms at a minimum. But I cannot but feel some synchronicity or something that, at the same moment as I reach the nadir, the script for Monsterwood is finished. So, some good to come? A deus-ex-machina in disguise? I try not to speculate, plan, or hope. Just keep it all moving.

Another thought about Steve Jobs.

Was chatting with my young friend Laura about Steve. Laura is in the next generation of digerati, being an excellent digital animator. She mentioned being surprised at how sad she was at Steve's death. She also observed that she could not imagine feeling so bereft at the loss of Bill Gates, notwithstanding his clear contributions to world philanthropy.

I suggested that Jobs was more sympathetic because he was more human. And that he did good by being good. That he actually cared that his products were well-designed to do the things that the were designed to do. And that he actually gave consumers quality. Because he thought that they and the world deserved quality.

His example was "we can do more and we can do better." And he did. That was plenty of philanthropy.

MORE GOOD NEWS!

I really hate to lose things. I hate to break things, too, but I know I can be remarkably careless so I don't torture myself in the same way. But losing things really depresses me. Although a breakage is a loss, it doesn't leave a hole in my consciousness the way misplacing something does.

Is it a value judgment that I am making on myself?

Yesterday, my iPhone went missing. (Fortunately, Louise's triumph colored my neurosis.) I remembered the last time I had remembered seeing Laphroig (such is the name of the cell phone) was outside my Saturday therapy appointment. It wasn't until I was safely home and unpacking my purse that I noticed it was not at hand. Twice I went down to the Honda to check and twice I found nothing. I looked between the seats and under them, but no luck. I checked in all the nooks and crannies that it had disappeared into before.

When I went into therapy, I vaguely remember seeing it on the table, but I thought I had put it back in my purse. I have been known, however, to leave my purse open, toss it on the floor, and find myself gathering the contents. Although I didn't exactly do this, it is possible that it could have fallen out or that I dropped it.

When I lose something I can almost always trace back to the moment where it left my possession or at least my consciousness. Some small tear appears in my personal bubble of being. There's a slight nag or snag in the groove. I didn't sleep very well knowing that something was amiss. 

K was kind enough to agree to meet me at our Saturday office so that we could scour. Could it have fallen between the couch cushions, or might have it been kicked under the couch ... left in the bathroom? Alas 'twas not there. And I was looking at trying to find another $150 of money I already don't have to get a replacement. 

I was sad and it just didn't feel right. I couldn't find the moment that my consciousness had dropped off. It didn't feel lost to me.

John and Melinda had borrowed the car to take Mel's relatives to the airport. When they got back I went out, calmly, one more time. Maybe I hadn't entirely searched behind the driver's seat. I looked everywhere again. No luck. And then I glimpsed a sliver of turquoise between the seat, the carpet, and the console. Wedged way down and back, in a no-person's land, and difficult to see, much less to reach, was Laphroig.

So, it was, all in all, a good weekend! 

WHAT HO! MINORLY GOOD NEWS!

I admit to being a little bit excited and it kind of takes over from all the other concerns (like losing my iPhone today or misplacing it ... I don't know where it is, although I have my suspicions). Louise and I and then Jason had a long Monsterwood work session yesterday. Louise was so fired up that she finished the draft and sent it along to me today. I have rarely heard her so pleased and excited.

I read through it, made a few notes, but even I, Principessa Skeptica, think that it is ready for prime time now. That means we will send it to a few of our close friends to make sure there are no big problems or holes that we are too close to see. And then we will send it out to the world at large. We have a few contacts, so we are not 100% shooting in the dark.

Jason has been working on this for 12 years. I've been working on it off and on for about six. Louise has been on the project for two. This also means that Louise and I can send it out to see if we can get other script writing work. Or even an agent.

No idea what is going to happen, but it is some kind of milestone. And to celebrate, I am going to feed Tupelo and watch another episode of the depressing Breaking Bad. I am not going to do even any "mental shopping" or speculating. But it is still something.

I sure hope I find my iPhone.

JUST THISIN' AND THATIN'

1) SOME OBSERVATIONS ABOUT KITTEHS

I hate it when they figure out just exactly how to get your attention when you are trying to ignore them. Emmylou has it down. The animal has no boundaries.

Living with a kittehn is kind of like living with a bullet. There is always something streaking past that you need to dodge.

Kittehns are more like dinosaurs than one might think at first glance. Emmy gets up on her hind legs, very T-Rex like, and bats at Cooder. Cooder is much more like a stegasaurus, low to the ground with serious claws. Also, Emmylou's new nickname is Shitzilla. I believe you will get the reference there.

Emmylou is a pirate, taking what she wants whenver the mood strikes her. She just attacked a four-pack of toilet paper and ravished it around the dining room. Maybe I need to get her a hunting license this season and take her up to Connecticut to look for deer.

2) HOW TO LIVE

Things are getting tougher. I had a couple of interesting discussions with SMS yesterday. During the morning conversation, he mentioned Stryon's Darkness Visible and Camus' Myth of Sisyphus. SMS postulated to his shrink that really the only philosophical question was whether or not to commit suicide. Although I haven't read that particular Camus, (I am quite a fan of L'etranger.), this is a paraphrase of Camus' question, Does the realization of the absurd require suicide? (Answer, no it requires revolt.). 


Wherever I was when I started this, I am many hours later confused as to where I was going with it. Perhaps it stands on its own as a thought. 


I am not depressed or even dismayed, so don't start getting your worry-about-SallyAnne on. At least, I don't think so. 


On another mailing list to which I subscribe, this was the quote of the day:


So long as you have food in your mouth, you have solved all questions for the time being. - Franz Kafka 

Time being being the rub. There are still some lime popsicles and roast chicken patties from Trader Joe's so I am good through the weekend.

The other question that SMS posed to me again was "Is it time to leave New York?" Oh goodness! has SMS said this to me several times before (9/11, when I was losing my Greenwich Village apartment, other spans of unemployment). Gosh, I thought as I fell asleep last night, what is "home" and do any of us have it/live there?

My apartment is expensive, although not expensive for this neighborhood or New York City/metro area. And I don't know how I am going to continue to afford it. But I do feel as if this is home. And I don't particularly want to be anywhere else. Well, maybe Paris, and maybe even Canada ... but Paris is unimaginable for work and Canada won't have me.

3) STEVEN JOBS

I was surprised at how sad I was given that I was prone to roll my eyes every time I saw him present a new Apple product. As soon as I heard, I wanted to speak to someone, to share the incredulity of the moment, as I did when 9/11 happened.

Hallelujah asked me why. She does not own a plethoric flotilla of Apple devices. But it is not the ownership or employment of devices, per se, that endear Steve to me at all. He was one of "us" ... he was an LSD-dropping, post-WWII kid. But it was not only his "countercultural" bent. He was a digerati, one of us who was working in computer technology and deployment before it hit the mainstream. He was only one person, one degree of separation, removed from me. I saw him in a meeting room at Pixar a (long) while back. He knew many of my friends who pioneered computer animation.

And I always liked him because he cared about design and usability. His products were intelligent. He did not go for mass market, as did Bill Gates. This always mattered to me, too. Still does. Apple products have proven that good design and a higher price point can succeed. The lowest-common denominator of quality does not have to rule.

I liked this article about his work.


Halloween is just around the corner.

MORE ANON

So I am still adjusting to life after Mom and Debee. Spending a solid week with no real down time, no real interior monologue time, and out of my own house has me still being intellectually and spiritually displaced.

That is not to say that there aren't perhaps some fresh perspectives but I am not yet back to focus and purpose in a pro-active way. Is that double-speak?

I think I cannot hear myself again.

Tonight was the Smart Woman's Book Club wherein we discussed Jonathan Lethem's The Fortress of Solitude. Several of us had not finished the book. There was an intense discussion. I am not too fond. It is a difficult book, not without merit, but, for my money, needed another two rewrites to be a work of literature.

I am also tired. Jeez, you all say. Who wants to read someone saying they are tired all the time? The declaration of tiredness must be related to the late night writing. And methinks I should assign a time earlier in the day for this endeavor rather than relegating it to a late night attempt.

I do have things I want to chatwrite about: mood farts, the death of Steve Jobs, running out of money, not to mention some stories from the recent road trip with Mom and Debee. But I cannot muse in depth and I might as well admit it and move on to sleep.

EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY

Zombie Dog Jane on Liz's lap.

So, I am back home. Mom and Deb are gone. I am so tired. I am hopeful that my brain kicks in again.

We had big big big fun. Cooder and Emmylou got so much attention, I am not sure that they will come down. Emmylou is bereft.

Schroon Lake. 

Mom at the dead animal store.

Liz and Jane in the living room at the theater.

Brenna, Gianna, Kim, Deb, Janet in Albany.

Deb and Janet, Schroon Lake.

And, in fact, I am still processing and remembering how to write and getting back into my life. I wasn't sure I could post tonight.