Dancing At Obi Wan's Wedding

MONDAY -- May 10 , 2020

• Water bill, window, candle, bubbles, brew, shroom, hydration & caffeination, lavender foot massage = 6:39am.

• Created a near fail but save with the Insta Pot, however, an absolutely delicious save. Involving my version of a roux, pink rice, tofu, left over lentils, carrots, celery, cauliflower. What a delicious bucket of food I made. Froze most of it for future burritos. I just can't find good tortillas in my neighborhood.

• The skies threatened. But I ran. 1.09 miles, for 19 min & 35 sec.

• Characters from several writing projects have been speaking to me. A very good thing. And I am listening, an even better thing. I'm writing down what they're telling me, the best.

Some Thoughts From My Day

Spent time on the fire escape, I haven't done so in days. I feel caught between two worlds, sitting on my window sill. Have I outgrown this space? My body is inside, my legs are out.

Run for the gold, I must. What if I don't desire gold? What if I would rather take my time and enjoy every step of the race. Isn't it an accomplishment to simply lace up my own shoes?

I want to go out there but I'm not sure I wish to be out there. What's so special about special?

Avocado and baked sweet potato fries are going to make this moment okay.

TUESDAY -- May 11, 2020

• 6:54am = Water bill, meditation, falling asleep for 90 more minutes, light, window, candle, bubbles, hydration, shroom.

• Ran 1.15 miles in 18 min & 11 sec.

Sitting At the Window

I'm trying to comprehend how it's May 13 already. May is half over. We are two weeks away from June.

It has been three months since that pretty massive anxiety attack changed my life, which lined up my ducks for a world, which was about to change.

I am deeply sorry for all of the suffering. I hope I am a worthy recipient of everything I have learned during this time. Little devastations have brought up some pretty awful memories. I acknowledge and respect them. I don't believe in moving on, although forward seems like a pretty sustainable direction.

A very dear friend of mine, who we lost last year, we used to refer to him as the Obi Wan of widowhood. He would say that the lives we once had are over. What we once accepted as normal, doesn't exist anymore. Sounds, taste, smells have changed forever. These are our lives right now.

I am overjoyed with the memory of dancing at Obi Wan's wedding, his second wedding to his new bride, who was also a widow. I got everyone up to Hava Nagila, the Harry Belafonte version of course.

Widowhood is a weird, powerful, disgusting place. And I'm still mystified by how I got here. I feel like I've been glued back together with leftover parts, like a platypus.

WEDNESDAY -- May 12, 2020

• 7:32 am = Water bill, scale, meditation, interpretation, light, candle, foot massage, hydration, shroom.

• I had enough prepared food in the house to make THE most outrageous minestrone. Froze a tub of it. Sent food porn photos of it to a coworker, who LOVES my plant based cooking. 'Cause I'm saving all this soup for you.

• I danced with a number of characters from one of my writing projects. It was pretty incredible.

• 1lb hand weights, 6.5 lb sack. 28 minutes. 122 calories.

• Youtube served up Dennis DeYoung singing "Show Me the Way." Oh my gosh. So incredible. https://youtu.be/59ckoiCJPYU

• Followed by David Byrne doing "Road to Nowhere" with St. Vincent. Mind officially blown. https://youtu.be/jZVL8gIUII8

Shocking I Know

I found myself singing Aquarius as I walked home from the grocery store, out loud through my mask. It's the opening number from the American Tribal Love-Rock Musical "Hair."

I remembered the night of our final dress rehearsal in Central Park, summer of 2008. It was our last chance to perform the show, from beginning to end, without an audience. It was rather exciting. I say "our" final rehearsal, as if I had any other role than sitting at the stage door. But in my day, I could open and close a stage door better than any Broadway lobby hero.

And this tiny angry white guy comes up to the gate and starts pointing and shouting at me. I tried to smile and nod my way through his rant. This was the ONLY night I would be able to enjoy the show, without 2,000 ticket holders. He seemed annoying but harmless, so I approached him. "Performances haven't started yet. This is just a rehearsal. If you'd like, you can come back on Tuesday--"

"YOU PEOPLE SHOULD GO BACK TO THE PAPP WHERE YOU BELONG," he shouted at me, darting his finger in my direction.

What? I cocked my head to the left, as the little pecker turned and walked off. He was mumbling something.

You people? Which people? Did he mean ushers? Because I was the only front-of-house staff member there. I was the only person at the stage door at all. Did he see more than one of me? If so, can I have what he's having.

Was it a location thing? Did we belong below 14th Street?

I know that "The Papp" he was referring to was the downtown theater company, which is responsible for producing shows in the Park. I also know that Joe Papp, the man, invented off-Broadway theater, who eventually had to testify before Congress. He had to tell them if he was or wasn't a member of the Communist Party, in the capital of the United States of America. Apparently giving out free tickets to Shakespeare was once considered very subversive in this country. Can you picture that?

Harmony and understanding

Sympathy and trust abounding

No more falsehoods or derisions

Golden living dreams of visions

Mystic crystal revelation

And the mind's true liberation

Aquarius! Aquarius!

--Pavel Vrba, Gerome Ragni, James Rado, Galt MacDermot