[I Step Outside Myself]
I step outside
myself, out of my eyes,
hands, mouth, outside
of myself I
step, a bundle
of goodness and godliness
that must make good
this devilry
that has happened.
Ingeborg Bachmann
Sunday
I’m beginning to believe I could live in a cardboard box and be fine. Arrived in wet, cold Boston and had a wonderful, fabulous dinner with J – sometimes a meal with her is like something out of a feel good movie – it’s always perfect and she remarked that I am back on the planet again – thankfully. And we talked about A through Z as we always do, and when we got to L – love – we agreed that there are many forms of love, no one is better than the other – they are just different.
Monday
Then a good day with B the next day seeing clients and it was off to NY – but wait, there were delays and calls from N that the Bean was sick – and then it was late – and at 11 I was working out in the Muse’s gym and consternating over Arlene and already exhausted.
Tuesday
…and in the morning the Bean was still sick and now at the vet’s and there were meetings one after another – and worry about the Bean – and no word from my contractor and L called it Consumer Terrorism – the lighting place called and said the fans I ordered are no longer available – and then N went to pick up the Bean and I finally got back to my hotel and changed for dinner and then another call – she was sick again – and back to the vet – and now N is in tears because the Bean is so pathetic – and I’m sick and have to go have dinner – and so I had three big Cosmopolitans with H who told me stories of mashed potatoes and knee surgeries and handset events – and we wound up meeting P, G and S with P’s friend late in the Whiskey Bar wondering why 50 year old men were cruising 17 year olds all around me…
Wednesday
Then it was more meetings and the Bean puked in the morning and N brought her back to the vet and this time it was to stay there and get IVs – and finally she stabilized – and the meetings were good – then there was lunch with F, who had been with me all day, and F said, as only a gay man can, “honey, you were played then dumped, but your revenge is sweet” – and he commented how I was back on the planet again and this made him happy. And he’s happy having met B and matched chemistry with more and you could read it on his face. And we sat outside at St. Barts and it was a beautiful spring day in NY and our waiter had gorgeous hazel eyes and we luxuriated with a glass of champage and indulgent chit chat. Raced back to the hotel from afternoon meetings and slid into Prada for retail therapy. Then a stretch limo picked me and clients up and we went to the Yankee game and sat front row by home plate with Jeter’s butt in my face all night and may I just remark what an awesome ass Derek Jeter has – possibly the best I have ever seen on a man – and since I saw it for 9 innings I should know – the ride back in the limo I stood up through the hole and when we got to Times Square, Mariah Carey was singing to a large crowd that had gathered and fireworks were going off all over – it was nutty. I lay in bed thinking about things that make my mind swirl – thinking about S, about the Bean, about the house, about hurricane season (when I was getting out of the limo K said to me “they are predicting three horrible hurricanes to hit New Orleans this year” and I just looked at him and winked and smiled and said, “I hope not”)…
Thursday
Up late – exotic dreams – lingered in bed over the NYT and tea – a six mile run in Central Park – a couple of epiphanies that were startling – the distance is coming and I am ready to start the novel, I have my “in” to it – the red headed girl in my dreams, I now know from whence she came, funny how I didn’t put two and two together before – I love NY – a dash back to the hotel – call to the vet = Bean needs to stay one more night – dash to JFK to return home but not without multiple phone calls in the back of the limo dealing with this and that.
I thought I was going to dread coming home what with all the crap going on here – the LaLa under some kind of inertia spell, the Bean having a pancreatitis relapse (actually wanted to come only for her), on and on and on – but it felt good to come home and be home and tomorrow I’ll get the Bean and give her as much love as I possibly can – and BJ is in town and we’ll have lunch and then there is a party at N’s tomorrow night too – so dance card full as usual – and Saturday is the election and hopefully some momentum will follow the aftermath and on and on…
I fell in love with a man who looked like “he walked out of a Patagonia ad†who spoke in riddles and confused me just enough to take a magic carpet ride with him and he says he loves me, but is that love? Before my man spoke in absolutes and did not bend to meet me but when I left he cracked and he says he loves me still – is that love? – the memories fade of men before, back to a man who loved me through several lives then went nuts and committed himself – but not before he broke my heart many times over – was that love? – who are these people who mate like geese – I want love that feels like fire being put out with gasoline or do I? – is that love? – if I love a man because everyday he is here and that is how he delivers, but he forgets I am a woman who wants posies or how much Splenda sweetens my decaf or I come first – is that love? – if I love a man who makes my hand shake when I put lipstick on to meet him, who unsettles me just a little, and asks what else he can do for me, is that love? Sometime in the Pleistocene era I loved a man who would kill for me – my dad died in ‘85 of a massive heart attack – heart exploded – he loved so intensely and I loved him back – a man friend exclaimed as we chatted by the fire in his high Sierra cabin that isn’t love, Rachel – but it is love, isn’t it? – big, volatile and fiery love – too many girlfriends have told me they pine for but don’t have a love like that – a nation of women who want love.
I sat around a table last night and was surrounded by men – one brought up his mother in a way that made me cock my head and listen. I wondered how each of their mothers had damaged each and every one of them in their own peculiar way. I thought about how love that jumps off the pages of a novel is so very different from the love that lives in the house next door. My mother had a dream my father was alive the other day and she woke up relieved to know it was a dream. Was that love?
Bloody Motherfucking Asshole
poetry has no place for a heart that’s a whore
and i’m young and i’m strong
but i feel old and tired
over fired
and i’ve been poked and stoked
it’s all smoke, there’s no more fire
only desire
for you, whoever you are
for you, whoever you are
you say my time here has been some sort of joke
that i’ve been messing around
some sort of incubating period
for when i really come around
but i’m cracking up
and you have no idea
no idea how it feels to be on your own
in your own home
with the fucking phone
and the mother of gloom
in your bedroom
standing over your head
with her hand in your head
with her hand in your head
i will not pretend
i will not put on a smile
i will not say i’m alright for you
when all i wanted was to be good
to do everything in truth
to do everything in truth
oh i wish, i wish, i wish i was born a man
so i could learn how to stand up for myself
like those guys with guitars
i’ve been watching in bars
who’ve been stamping their feet to a different beat
to a different beat
i will not pretend
i will not put on a smile
i will not say i’m alright for you
when all i wanted was to be good
to do everything in truth
to do everything in truth
you bloody motherfucking asshole
you bloody motherfucking asshole
you bloody motherfucking asshole
you bloody
i will not pretend
i will not put on a smile
i will not say i’m alright for you
for you, whoever you are
for you, whoever you are
I don’t know what it is, but here it comes again. Long meeting with the superintendent (that should go in quotes) named O for the LaLa and disappointment reigned – N’s house is leaking why should I use that guy to flash my house when my house needs lots of flashing? The floor guy doesn’t return O’s calls. The window guy doesn’t return K’s calls (the contractor). The a/c guy doesn’t return my calls or follow instructions. The plumber has gone MIA. The superintendent tells me that people show up to work on the LaLa and run the other way because it’s difficult. His boy, R, says to me why would they work on this when they could work on something easy. And I tell them – because it’s worth it, because it’s not easy, because it’s slightly different but it would be rewarding. And the blank stares come.
I work hard – catching up on every nuance of every report we’ve done in the past few months – I’m off to see clients to tell them about what we know – what we know is that the advertising world is in a malaise – much like everything else in the world.
I run hard.
I run by the woman selling creole tomatoes. I come back to the Can and get some money and go get some of those tomatoes. Then on my way back up to the apartment I spot people going to the pool and I think – the pool? – and I come up and call N and say let’s go swimming and she says she and the Snake have just gotten in bed for their nap. So I go down alone and swim laps. And under the water I have a flood of memories that don’t get me down, they just wash through me.
And I think about things – about people – in some kind of abstract way – and I lay on the lounge chair and a little boy asks his mother what I am doing – and I look at him and I say I am doing this – and I lay there in the sun drying off and I think about things – and about people – and I have no feeling – instead the feelings and thoughts appear and disappear with no purpose. I think about my friend N trapped here during Katrina telling me she will never go in the Can’s pool again because of what she saw during the storm. I think of sitting down at the pool with S, N and others and trying hard to understand what I should do. I think about coming to the pool solo with W and just him and I enjoying it. I think of the little girl that so captured his attention and led him around the pool. I think of a pool at the LaLa. I think of a Chinese baby at the pool. I think of the Chinese girls at the pool in La Jolla yelling mommy to E. I think that life is short and should be enjoyed.
I am supposed to meet L, A and P later at Vaughn’s. I have a date with G to talk about a business idea. I go to G’s house and I bring all the materials and we talk about this business venture and it is exciting. And so we’ll see.
L, man of mystery, called to go hear music – I told him I’d call when I get back in town.
My decision tonight is to step back, not forward, because I am not ready for prime time. My whole aura, if you will, has changed, shifted, and I don’t know what to do with myself because myself is different. I remember all those Marinites who said I had good energy – I don’t right now – vestiges of confusion and wreckage and ruin – and one day I will be in harmony again – but not now, now is still walking over hot coals – putting out fire with gasoline – flames – foundations crumbling – walking through a fog – looking in the mirror and seeing someone I don’t know – trying to breathe – a skittishness to engage with anyone in any meaningful way.
Sometime in mid August I am coming back – until then I can’t be trusted.
and sometimes not in a positive way – I’m taking a break because I’m in a funk – this too shall pass – but right now it isn’t worth the words.
My friend S had an interesting date one night with a guy named M – a blue blood, intellectual who invited her over for wine and an art discussion – as he waved a small plate of cheese in front of her, he said “Stilton?” and my friend, an art novice, replied, “I am not familiar with his work.” I thought possibly that was the funniest line I had ever heard in my life. Until now. She just returned from Mexico where she went as chaperone on her daughter’s trip and on a bus ride she happened to see two dogs joined together in an awkward position – she thought “Siamese dog twins” – and later told the group of adults also chaperoning what she had seen “Siamese dog twins” only they had seen two dogs fucking – once the laugher subsided, she realized yet again, she is from another planet. But funny, nonetheless.
Last night I picked up S after an SOS – I was just about to crawl in bed exhausted from the revery of 9 days straight – towards midnight, sitting in the street hoping I had the right house, I worried about his safety and wondered how to handle the situation if he didn’t come out – I was going to call the Snake and have him barge in. Luckily, S came out alive and my worries were for naught.
Meanwhile, I woke this morning and realized I had hurt one of my best friends because I left her birthday celebration early (falling asleep in my buttercream chocolate cake frosting) – she was mid present opening when I dashed out the door and said later. It only hit me as I was getting ready to go have lunch with S and rushing to get my make up on that a) she looked weird when I left, b) she hadn’t called me in the morning, and c) I had a bad feeling in my gut. Sure enough many voice mail messages later she finally responded that indeed she was upset with me but was licking her wounds and working her way passed it by grading tons of student papers.
L, man of mystery, called and so I had ducked it long enough and called him back – thankfully getting his voice mail on account of I had a nap head from a bottle of champagne at lunch since S had taken me out for my birthday lunch – so I left a message saying I was detoxing after JF and had to rescue an old friend and I’d catch up with him later.
The week ahead is laden with work work work – and dance card filled at night – I almost look forward to flying out next week just to be on a plane and not to juggle, only to focus on work.
S is laying on the couch right now moaning “fucking blogs” – I have on my tee shirt that Olya gave me, which says – “Careful, or you’ll end up in my novel” – S said I need to draw a line through “novel” and write in “blog” – ah, so much self expression, so little time…..
My “new best friend” called to say she had a frightful experience trying to buy condoms today that turned into a comedy of errors. After hearing her hilarious travails of condom shopping I realized perhaps online purchases might be the only way to go for certain items.
I brought my “old best friend” an orchid as a peace offering and she said B needed them more since he was the one who took the brunt of my neglect – of course that was after they came off the roof where they had all climbed to dance to the Gal party next door. So I missed dancing on the roof and making my friend’s birthday special – but I was there for someone else – and sometimes you just can’t be all things to all people as much as you’d like to.
So it’s been a day of laughing – crying some with S, some with N, some about New Orleans – and more laughing – but my heart feels better today – less beaten down.
I say make me laugh and I’m yours.
Months ago, a good friend said to hope for rain because when the downpour starts we are going outside.
I had a vision today – standing with two women I’ve come to love I listened to wonderful music from Washboard Chaz underneath a canopy, and watched the rain come down, and lo and behold, there was a vision and my heart sped up, each lap of the vision intensified the pace, till the gallop was palpable and I became light headed.
And there was nothing I could do but walk away.
One day – I’m told – the pain stops. I’d just like it to be now.
L, man of mystery, left many voicemails to meet him in his “box seats” and I just could not get over there no matter how flattered I was with his feedback.
I don’t think I got anywhere today other than making tighter and tighter circles around myself – thankfully I was in disguise – my pink hair my invisible cloak – Wonder Woman lives inside of me, I’ve seen glimpses of her lately, but even Wonder Woman has days where she is locked in chains by the evil doers and can’t bust out of them – like a cliff hanger, you have to wait to the next episode, where you’ll find her either picking the lock with her hairpin or busting out with supersonic strength, but in the meantime, this chapter ends with only POW, BANG, KABOOM written all over her fucked up heart.
I declare this has been the best Jazz Fest I’ve ever experienced. I’ve run into more old friends, made new ones, and heard some really good music – how much fun can you pack into a few days. Friday was laid back – easy Jazz Fest of days gone by when Fridays were always more locals and less people and way more fun. I saw H as I was going into the gate and he brought me over to T’s friends shop – Fancy Pony Land – and I bought the cutest skirt with pistols on it. Then I went to find T and spotted a carved door from the Ivory Coast in Conga Square with two gators biting the tail of the next one – H said that is all about you – the yin yang right now – then I met Chantal, the owner from NY, who is this gorgeous striking warm woman and I couldn’t walk away and so I bought it for the LaLa – and later T told me that Quint was so stricken with Chantal that he insisted she come to JF and set up shop. I started the music watching Kim Carson when G text me to come meet her with J and T – I ended up at the Miller Hospitality Tent and walked in to see T surrounded by the Miller Girls – they were all age 12 I do believe. Then Big Chief Monk Boudreaux with L&C and A. But my fav was Eric Lindell who came out from California 8 years ago and decided to stay. I was on my way to Roland Guerin at H’s recommendation when I just kept on walking.
Saturday was better music and less about hanging out with people. I walked to the LaLa and happened upon S with K, I had told him he could park in the LaLa driveway. We walked together to G’s house to give her a free ticket that K had. Then we split at the gate and G came with me to see Susan Cowsill who was terrific. She sang a song she had written during the evacuation and when she finished with When the Saints Come Marching In I was getting so welped up I had to walk away. Then Fredy Omar with Miguel the stone fox drum player – who G later talked to – and he ended up with the Radiators later. Deacon John was interesting but I had made my way to the Fred Flinstone flag to hook up with S and K and although that was okay, it wasn’t ideal, so I left there and went to look at the bracelets GoGo was making and ended up buying the gorgeous bamboo cuff. Got a text from L to bring her a big ice tea over at Robert Randolph so I went to meet them and we then went over to see the Ohio Players. Walked home, spent, caught up with P&C and learned G (the narcissist extraordinaire) was fired from her cushy UNO job and I, of course, had to text N right away because that was – you’d have to know what a horror that woman is – the best news I’d heard all day.
Walked in the can to find two dogs overly eager for my company – Renny having a spend the night with Arlene because N wasn’t back yet.
Later picked up G and we headed to the party at T’s house that was jamming when we got there. It was 3 men for every girl – very interesting – T the party thrower was in fine form chasing down a mermaid – I had brought him chocolate poodles since my first introduction to him was him differentiating himself from TC who also sells real estate but has the poodle in his picture – TL’s marketing strategy is if I don’t sell your house in 60 days I’ll eat your poodle – then my friend T showed up and was radiating “I’m having a good time” in technicolor as she danced with K and swooned under the stars – G was in the unfinished dining room in some intimate dance with J – after a long night of dancing and socializing I left with L, man of mystery, and G and J to go to Pals. We wound up at L’s house – darling house with a hot tub – and we wound up in the hot tub – how is it that I lived in the hot tub capitol of the world and never went in one and yet here in New Orleans I am in hot tubs all the time?
A very interesting discovery happened in the midst of all this fun and socializing – I have been worried about my ability to move on and feel anything – something something – ever. It’s so unlike me to be cut off from the mind body connection I’ve always had. So at the party – G says I know a guy you would like and introduces me to L – man of mystery – handsome – a Sam Sheppard look alike – surely he presented himself as the antidote for this – he kept bird dogging me at the party and later wanted to hold my hand and for me to dance with him – so way later, when he was wanting a kiss, instead of freezing up which is what my entire body was about to do, I just kissed him back full throttle – it was one of those getting back on the bicycle moments – and he said, wow, you have a way of kissing – and I said way? – and he said with “gusto” – and I laughed out loud. But to get there and I wanted to get there, I had had to close my eyes and imagine I was kissing the man I wanted to be in a lip lock with – and that’s where the gusto came from – I summoned it.
But I don’t want to manufacture desire any more than I care to manufacture anger that E is want for me to do – I say let these things come in their own time, in their own fashion, rather that fake it till you make it.
Then this morning I woke from warm dreams of N and did not have to manufacture anger at all – it came easily – in a rush – a torrent – through my thin lips (your lips are disappearing) I marveled at how I could let this man take my heart and treat it with such neglect that my mind, body and soul are no longer in harmony but instead exist in different planes that aren’t intersecting in any meaningful way, in any cogent way. I’m out of sorts – Humpty Dumpty – and all the kings can’t put Rachel back together again. E said I will come together stronger, better than the earlier model – but I have my doubts this morning. I asked C again yesterday – is love volitional? – and he said no, finally. He said he had said zen prayers of serenity for me on my birthday but he had not taken into account B. That’s the way it goes huh, you think you are covering all your bases, but someone throws you a curve ball and then you have to rethink the whole enchilada.
Today is the last day of the Fest – already I am feeling the post JF blues creeping in – tomorrow is lunch with S before he leaves to go back on Tuesday. Then there is the Fest after the Fest party at L&C’s on Tuesday night – and then Wed in the square again. Dancing our way to our graves.
N and I went for our joint birthday celebration to Bayona – it was tough finding a nice restaurant open for lunch as all are still understaffed. Meanwhile a note from the SF office saying (at my urging) they were trying to make the OTR reporter conference in NO next year and most of the hotels said they are still not at capacity and won’t be until 2008 – BIG SIGH.
I was hoping to sit in the courtyard at Bayona but we arrived in a gale hale thunderstorm that was loud and thunderous – so much so we had bribed someone from the parking lot to drive us the three blocks back to the restaurant. We had a duck sandwich with almond butter and roasted onions, spinach gnocchi and a delicious fried oyster salad with black eyed peas. I’m still full and I didn’t even mention the brown sugar custard with bananas and the bread pudding.
Then we walked over to Tujagues for a cocktail and stopped in to buy some party pants at a cute boutique and ran into the Snake buying one of N’s presents – so he was busted without even knowing it – and he joined us at Tujagues – but the Pimm’s Cup was horrible and as much as we tried to get the bartender (surly I might add) to doctor it – he couldn’t get the cloying sweetness to go away. So we made our way to the Napoleon House for the real thing. The Quarter was crowded even in the rain – because of Jazz Fest we reckoned. We stopped at the Touche for one last cocktail and found ourselves in the midst of Ohioans or some such. They were singing the State Farm ditty and we were beside ourselves with laughter. Back towards the parking lot we found another cute shop and went in and I bought a hot pink wig that is sassy. N and I both got bling bling rings and she got one for her toe as well.
The weather report says rain rain rain for the next three Jazz Fest days – may there be mercy on us patrons.
Stopped by the LaLa and big L was there working on the plumbing – he said I am his favorite client – and I said why because he can come and go as he pleases? – he laughed, I didn’t. Meanwhile, looks like R was there and pulled the lathe off the back room getting it ready for insulation but still no call back from K, the incognito contractor. Since my birthday greeting – the dancing balloons – no word. I’m sure she’ll contact me soon, as she wants a lot more money last I heard.
S is gearing up to travel tomorrow to NO for JF. N is going to Shreveport for a funeral, her cousin died. I saw L briefly this morning driving along the bayou – P has the dogs so I haven’t seen him the past few mornings – I told him to bear with me as my pendulum swings from little Ms. Do Right to there once was a girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her forehead and when she was good, she was very very good, but when she was bad she was horrid. He said he would have patience.