Category: Confessional

Sweet Sorrow

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Over 15 years ago I was roaming the streets of New York City, oblivious to the fact that at home a life was slowing slipping away. Unable to communicate the seconds of precious life ticked by while I took in Cats and the Russian Tea Room. I got there in time but I never forgave myself for not getting there sooner. I just never thought it would happen again. Dancing around New York City while death danced too close at home. Too much to understand.
You will never know how guilty I feel for not being there. I should have held your hand. I should have seen you through the pain. I know you will tell me it was bad timing, that it just happened that way, but when you choked back the words I knew I should have been there. You tried to tell me you were okay. Even if you were, I wasn’t. Forgive me for taking a little time to get over the irony – for the exact moment I closed my eyes in exhausted slumber, he closed his eyes for good. Forgive me for feeling far away and failed.
I’m here now.

Just a Song

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wonder.jpg

Sometime ago I said that life was too busy for supporting & following & being obsessed by music. I think what I meant was these days I am being far more selective about the music I hear and how far I’ll go to stand before it. Recently, I went on a Natalie binge. Call me crazy, but four years is too long to go without hearing that voice live. Unlike myself I wanted a night upclose and a night far away. Unlike myself I made no attempt to remember the setlist. Unlike myself I made no attempt to get the perfect picture & in fact, refuse to post the ones that actually came out decent. I’ll leave that for some other adoring fan to do. Here is a list of the songs I heard. They are not all from the same night, nor are they in the “correct” order. The time listening to Natalie was too precious to worry about perfection.

  • Carnival~ this is the only one I will fess up to putting in the correct order. Every single time she came out on stage this was the song she performed first. It makes sense. This is her ode to New York; a nod to the city she adores. I have to say I was spellbound when she first appeared. It really had been too long. “Wide eyed misfit prophet, on a traffic island, stopped. And he raged of saving me.”
  • Build a Levee ~ This is a personal fave of mine. “You’ll fall under an evil spell just looking at his beautiful face.”
  • I’m not Gonna Beg ~ Where’s the boa? “I know ‘once upon a time’ and ‘ever after’ is a lie.”
  • At the Fair ~ Introduced as Robert Frost this is a Bonnie Raitt cover…” I swear another night is fallin'”
  • Sonnet #73~ Natalie was asked by the Royal Shakespeare Company to collaborate with Gavin Bryans for his Nothing Like the Sun project & put a sonnet to music. She chose #73 and said a few words about the Black Death and how many people died…typical Nat. “When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang.”
  • The Equestrienne ~ A story about a circus by Rachel Field. Natalie created a song out of part of the story involving a white horse. “See the girl in pink on a milk white horse.”
  • Janitor’s Boy ~ A song written by Nathalia Crane when she was 10 years old. Natalie put it to music & sang it in a 1920’s vaudville sort of way, very fun and flirty. “He’ll carry me off I know that he will, for his hair is exceedingly red: and the only thing that occurs to me is to dutifully shivers in bed.”
  • If No One Marries Me by Laurence Alma-Tadema~ “And when I’m getting really old, at twenty-eight or nine I’ll buy a little orphan girl and bring her up as mine.”
  • The Man in the Wilderness from Mother Goose~ a strange little poem about a man in the wilderness and asking about strawberries in the sea…
  • Texas ~ a new song of Natalie’s that seemed a warning about having it all. “I don;t mind if I have to kill a little honey bee.”
  • Life is Sweet ~ I have to admit I cried during this song. I think Natalie avoided singing it one night just because someone requested it. The jury is still out on that one…”It’s high time you make up your own sweet little mind.”
  • Wonder ~ the anthem is still strong. The best part was Natalie’s special guest, “How I confound you and astound you.”
  • Golden Boy ~ and to think we have so many more Golden Boys to talk about since Columbine. “Meteor rise from obscurity and all it took was a killing spree.”
  • Go Down Moses ~ this is probably my favorite song. It’s haunting and hurting as only a song about Katrina moving through New Orleans could be. “But it so hard without you…cold shocked and speechless can anyone reach us?”
  • Giving Up ~ another new Natalie song…
  • The End ~ If anyone remembers Natalie’s 2004 tour they will remember the peace banner Natalie held up during Gulf of Araby. It was back for The End. “When we give up the barrel and the blade…”
  • Tell Yourself ~ Natalie tested us with this one. She said “I wrote this for my 13 year old niece…any guesses?” “You’ll never be like the anorexic beauties in the magazines.”
  • Village Green Preservation Society~ Who would have thought The Kinks would show up in a Natalie show.? Erik & Gabe helped Nat make this hysterical.
  • Break Your Heart ~ while I miss the horn section on this song the cello was a good replacement. “See the push and shove for their rewards”
  • From the Time You Say Goodbye~ what a lovely surprise. I never thought I would get to hear this love. “Keep a prayer within your heart that the time will surely fly”
  • Tension ~ although this was just a snippet it was awesome to hear Natalie’s very first song. “A thought mistaken for a memory”
  • Kind & Generous~ The time to give Natalie gifts… “My love and respect for you”
  • Letter ~ I know I have never heard this live before. “but the truth it would reveal knowing you brought me pleasure…”
  • Motherland ~“Where in hell can you go?”

I will never be able to really write about this experience. It was a pleasure. Special thanks to Germany, Scotland and to the great city of New York.

Don’t Ask Me

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Have you ever had an experience so profound you can’t really open your mouth to share it with anyone else? You want to selfishly hoard the time as your own and talk around the moment that really moved you, speaking of smaller, less important parts of time. All the while there is this avoidance, this slight tremor of anxiety that someone else experienced your moment and will want to share it back to you, to vocalize it, trivialize it, and in the end, ultimately destroy it? With the damage done and the moment passed there is nothing left to do but turn the whole thing away.
I have yet to really talk about 363 W 16th Street and the things I saw and heard there. I’m holding them close, holding them sacred, as to not lose the importance of the profound experience. Don’t ask me. Yet.

Sky Reaching

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Sometimes, sometimes all it takes is a different perspective to right a wrong, heal a hurt, or just plain move on from something. I spent a lot of time looking up this weekend, both literally and figuratively. I found the cure for complacency is insecurity. I found that the push and pull of heart strings can be both painful and pleasing. I cried a little this weekend, but definitely laughed more. Friends who were a little too big for me are starting to fit better, closer. Perspectives do change when you get closer and I like what I see.
I went into a sea of nobody I knew and somehow felt better about the face in the mirror when I got home. I still don’t understand black sunglasses in the dark, wearing the sound of disgust on your feet, or gypsy cabbies. What I do know is that I was glad to share that world, for a little while. A little while is all I needed. We came confused about Chipotle and left with wrong trains and missing Starbucks. The city didn’t change us, yet somehow, in some way, I’m different. Looking up has a different look to it.
So, to you and you. I will see you later. And we’ll look up some more.

Wish You Were Here

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If I could sit beside you in a worn down diner, I would. We would sit at the cracked counter, balancing on wobbly, spinning stools and peer at the menu, already knowing what we want. Nowhere to put our coats and hats, we’d drape them over our knees. Before the day is over I would lose a glove, dropped to the snow-melted wet floor, trampled on before it’s even missing and missed. But, before then we would order plates of runny eggs and almost burnt toast. We’d let steaming cups of coffee sit untouched at our elbows, too hot to sip. Conversation would be silent because enjoying each others unusual company would be all we need. You would eavesdrop on the couple behind us, nodding knowingly; wise to their hushed argument about buying a bigger truck. The exclamation, an outburst of sorts, “but, it’s New England!” would make you smile small. The corners of your mouth would barely move, but the barely contained laughter would still show in your eyes. You want to say something, but would busy yourself with fixing my coffee the way I like it instead. You would even stop to test its temperature, your tongue knowing exactly how I can take it. “It’s cool enough” you would indicate with a small nod, pushing the cup towards me, eyes still laughing. Thank you, I would acknowledge you are right. Again. 
Getting up to pay the bill. That’s when I’d lose the glove. I wouldn’t notice it slide off my lap, bounce off the stool leg and land soundly in the cold puddle of slush created by my too-big black boots. Instead I would trudge my way to the cashier, my coat bunched under an arm. You hand over the check and wait for change. “Ready?” you would ask with your smiling eyes. Yes. And out of the diner we would go. If I could, I would.

Chourico Content

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For three months now I haven’t wanted to cook. I have come home feeling exhausted, worn down and depressed. Kisa asks a one-word question “pizza?” and my only response is another question “order out or make in?” I’m not feeling guilty about the laziness. We got a pizza stone and peel for our wedding and I truly enjoy making fresh pizza at home. But, but, but. It’s not what I consider cooking. I’m not really making anything when I lay down a crust with sauce and cheese.
Tonight, all that ended. I shook off the blues and I’m back in the kitchen. My first recipe to ring out the old year is chourico/turkey sub sandwiches in honor of the Saturday night Patriots game.
Ingredients:

  • chourico, red and spicy, stripped of casing and chopped small
  • ground turkey
  • sweet vidalia, chopped tiny
  • zesty tomato sauce
  • ruby red tomatoes, diced
  • crunchy, bright jalapenos (I cheated with jarred because I prefer my friend, Mrs ‘Fro), chopped smaller than small
  • dried oregano
  • sugar
  • black pepper (fresh cracked, of course)
  • tapioca
  • big black olives, sliced
  • monterey jack cheese, shredded
  • fresh, fresh, fresh rolls, guts taken out
  • crunchy tortilla chips (I like red hot blues)

I prefer to cook the turkey and chourico in batches, alternating between the two. End with a batch of turkey so it can soak up the crusty bits of chourico left behind. This method also gives the otherwise grayish turkey a deeper color. The whole thing stews for 6-12 hours so the flavors can have a lasting relationship and not just a one night stand. Serve with plenty of napkins and water for the wimps.

This Is Me

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This is me saying goodbye to 2007. The dog and I have decided we are ready to wake up to a new year. Wake me when it’s over, won’t you? While this year wasn’t particularly terrible, it ended with an I-hate-fall moment and I am so ready to move away from that mindset.
Here’s the deal: I normally have scoffed at anyone making a new year’s resolution. I mean, why bother. You are full of crap and you know it. As a rule I don’t make them because in my mind, MY new year is my birthday, the day I turn another year older. A new year just begun. I end up making the same resolutions everyone else made a month earlier (because I’m full of crap, too). I end up not sticking to the resolutions just like everyone else. I’m not different, definitely no better. It’s pretty pathetic, actually. This year I’m not a scoffer. I’m a maker. I made a list of resolutions and for once, I’m not going to announce my good intentions to the entire world. I’ve done enough “this is IT!” ranting as it is.
This is all I will say. I am changing some things. See if you can tell what they are. Take a good look at this me because this time next year I won’t be.

Seasick

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I want to say see you next year. I want to say maybe next time. I want to make promises I know I can’t keep. Life isn’t fair and Mother Nature is a cruel mistress. Next year my better half gets the call. I know what he will say. I know what he deserves to say. We aren’t going anywhere. It’s our turn to stay put. His family derves a merry christmas delivered on the right day, too.
I cannot make promises I shouldn’t keep. I cannot be unfair to my partner for life.
But, but, but. Know this – I was ready for you. I was ready to come back to you. For this first time in 15 years I was prepared to face all the haunts and hells of yesteryear. Just because it isn’t happening this year doesn’t mean I won’t be ready some other time. I will face you and I will win. Seasick or not, I will succeed.

working it not

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What do you do when the heart goes one way and the mind wanders another? When is right really right and wrong isn’t totally out of the question? One eye on the weather, one heart waiting for disappointment to crest so it can begin to ebb away. Subside. Anticipated sorry is worse than anything I could bring on myself.
The tide of bad timing is fast approaching. Try as I may I want to dodge it, duck under it, let it crash over my head and then let it move on without me. To say we have been planning this all year would be a lie. No plan, just the remembrance of a promise. We said we would be there. We assumed we would. We wanted to. Seriously. The promises broken would break my heart. When I say I want to go home it’s not for the sake of space. It’s not about the place. It’s never been about the place.
 

He Didn’t Like

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When we were kids we used to joke that while she loved kids, he hated them. She was jolly, he was a jerk. She was exuberant. He was sour. We had names for him behind his back, maybe about his ears. I don’t remember. We were kids that had a gang of jokes all about him. I played along with the cruelty even though I knew better. Why is that? Last night kisa and I watched the Breakfast Club. Even though my husband swore it was a classic I was getting it confused with other Molly movies. I kept waiting for her to make a dress or something. At one point I was struck by how serious the “club’s” conversation had gotten. They were talking about whether or not they were truly friends and what would happen on Monday. Molly’s character brought up peer pressure and how, come Monday, they would all go back to the groups they knew and life as they knew it would carry on. Losers would still be losers. Geeks would still be geeks. Jocks would still be jocks.
I was that girl. I knew Mr Didn’t Like Kids was actually kind. Yet, we were mean. People would be surprised to know how kind. Still we were uncaring. It’s a secret I’ve kept and I don’t know why. 

Bright Lights

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This time of year is always so bittersweet for me. I ache for something I can’t really put my finger on. I have everything I need and get things I didn’t even know I needed. I am surrounded by love with every postage stamped surprise. Every house lights up the darkness with colors crazy and cheerfulness. I want to catch the lights, clutch them tight, and carry them through spring- carry them always.
That song about having yourself a merry little Christmas gets to me. “Soon we’ll all be together if the fates allow” is a sad line. The fates are cruel. Someone is always someplace else. Always. When I was younger I was selfish. I wanted every love of my life in one room, no matter what the cost. I was desperate to have my heart’s full, my soul’s content at Christmas. Greedy because I couldn’t decide. I wanted the best of both worlds and blood was not thicker that water, but just as equal as my essential life force. I needed them together.
Tonight we gathered with family. Twenty people young and old came together. Traditions celebrated and carried on. Did a sister know of the tears swallowed? Her gesture earned applause but really, really we wanted cry. We will not be all together ever again. Again, the fates won’t allow.

If Only

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On a paper place mat, in a restaurant in Rockland, Maine there was a story about never forgetting your loved ones. The place mat was scalloped edged and covered with squares of different ads in brown ink. Joe’s Towing Company (cartoon guy waving out a tow truck window), Andrea’s Flowers (drawing of roses in a vase), Fax It Fast! (stick figure running with paper in his balled hand), The Law Offices of Schwartz, Kaplan & Kirn (fancy scroll work around the phone number)…Hidden among the sales pitches were the words about not forgetting the loves of your life. Carry them still.

In the book I just finished, Boy’s Life, McCammon takes that place mat’s secret sentiment a step further, “I wish there was a place you could go and sit in a room like a movie theater and look through a catalog of a zillion names and then you could press a button and a face would appear on the screen to tell you about the life that had been. It would be a living memorial to the generations who have gone on before and you could hear their voices though those voices had been stilled for a hundred years” (p 346).
Imagine that for just a second, if you will. Imagine sitting in that dark, silent theater. The book of names on your lap. Before you open it, do you know who you want to see again? Do you know who shouldn’t be forgotten? Or, has it become too late and someone has slipped through the cracks of your memory and all you want is to be reminded again? Or, do you want to see someone you’ve never met? Me, I want to meet kisa’s paternal grandmother. I think it goes without saying that I want to meet my namesake. To hear her voice. There is a whole list of names I could push buttons for!

The place mat is long gone. The theater of memories doesn’t exist (yet). What will you do to keep loved ones who have been silenced alive?

Port

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I dreamed again of sailing away. I don’t know why cruise ships are my reoccurring objects of choice. Where am I going? Why can’t I stay?

Last night we argued about going, staying, returning. We weren’t really fighting, but rather frustrated. We weren’t angry just refusing to be audibly agreeable. There was no comfort in compromise because we wouldn’t come to it. Not without confrontation. Certainly not out loud. I know I say one thing and mean another weeks later. I know what I say is true for the moment the words are uttered. I know I frustrate you as much I frustrate me & myself. I know it sounds like lying when I change my mind to suit my heart.
When I said I didn’t want you there and that I would be happier without you that wasn’t a lie. Not at that moment it wasn’t. At that moment miserable me didn’t want to deal with unreasonable you. My understanding wasn’t adequate when arguing with you. Facing facts is hard when fixated on fantasy.

Today is a different story. I want us to sail away. Together. Let’s take that journey the best way we know how. Our plans are scattered, seat-of-our-pants as they say. Who cares? Coming. Going. Staying. Let’s play it by heart and see what happens.

From the Clutter

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Okay. Here are the rants from the very top of the clutter. I miss my friends. RT~ when, when, when will we have time? For three Tuesdays in a row I have been ear to phone, playing I-Know-Best (and that’s why they pay me the big bucks, I guess). I long to be somewhere else on Tuesday nights…reaching for sanity sanctuary, maybe?
I hate Google right now and I don’t care who knows it. It shouldn’t take a full minute to log into my account. It shouldn’t take another 30 seconds for the reply button to work. It frustrates me that I can’t pop a quick reply back to my sister. My inbox is piling up – message upon message remains unread. Admit it, google! You have finally failed at something. Your chat thing was a waste of time and now this AIM thing you’re trying…I think it’s the root of all my in-box problems. Fix it before I move to MSN…seriously.
Then there is work. Did you ever have one of those days…those days when you are so freakin’ busy that you don’t know what to do next? You sit at your desk, papers piled to the ceiling, feeling like a failure because you’re paralyzed to the depths of indecision. You stare at the calendar wondering where yesterday went. Were you even a witness to a week ago Wednesday? Where did this Monday go? I’d like to be able to multitask in my car, while taking a shower, during dinner, in my sleep. I could get a lot more done if I stopped trying to prioritize it all and just did it. 

sigh.
 

This Old Post 12/8/95

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I want a love I can’t get from just anyone. To be hugged for no reason is a rare thing. It’s the little gestures. I could care less about gifts. I’m tired of it all and when I’m tired I tend to look at the should haves, could haves, would haves, if onlys. Oh Romeo, take me dancing. Keep me up for all hours of the night; make me feel I am worth all the late night hours. Have fun. Life as we knew it ended today. I want a drink. I want to make love to someone who whispers my name. I ‘d love a love so deep it forsakes everything else.

It is hard to believe 12 years have passed since I felt this, this…whatever. I don’t even know what to call it. The man I thought I knew admitted he was torn between love and hate of me. Yet, I stayed committed to being unwanted for no reason whatsoever. Even after moving on I was determined to play the fool.
What a difference a decade makes! I could kick my own self’s ass for being so silly. I could laugh in the face of such stupidity. Yet, those things were put in my way for a reason. Lessons to be learned and not lightly. Love is not to be awarded like a trophy just because you are gorgeous on the outside. Love is to be hard earned because you are beautiful on the inside. Instead of Work It Girl it’s Work For It. The relationships in my life didn’t love me like they should have because I didn’t. Respect didn’t walk in my door and own my pride. It took those silly, stupid moments for it all to make sense.

These days I have a love that forsakes all others. It dances me til dawn. I have it not because I deserve it, but because I earn it. Everyday.