February 10, 2004

10:08 p.m.

Conversations

I visited with my Indian neighbor across the hall this evening. He works at a big insurance company here, and has applied for a transfer to another dept. which will send him to Philadelphia, where he hopes to be happier. There's a lot of red tape to get through though, so he doesn't know when it will be approved. Meanwhile he languishes in Connecticut because he has no tribe. This is a city boy, raised in Bombay; he loves the pace and energy of urban life and the thrill of city nights, and suburban Hartford offers him no inspiration. I can't blame him, though I'm not a city mouse myself, but it will be a shame to lose him as a neighbor because he's so interesting. It seems everyone in his family is a character -- he tells amazing fart stories involving his grandfather (driving out unwanted neighbors or guests who overstayed their welcome), and his little brother apparently is quite a rascal -- so charming, "He doesn't even have to pay for dates!" my friend says incredulously. We drank a glass of wine and laughed until we cried, over our favorite foibles. We also talked about personal evolution, particularly versus evolving with a partner -- he thinks this country places too much emphasis on individual development, without recognizing the worth of true marriage/partnership, and facing life together with someone else. I said it's a personal choice, that there are both kinds of people here. I cannot imagine spending the remainder of my life, or my dwelling, with someone, but I'm actually learning valuable marriagelike skills by committing to my band. Maybe someday those skills will serve me well in a partnership.

At rehearsal earlier today, we broke for lunch and were looking at the calendar to map out the summer while we ate. Chris said he hated to bring up the "R" word, but that we should start looking at when we want to record again. I said maybe first we should address the "S" word and develop a songlist! We don't have enough material for another album yet, if we're only counting new stuff, but that brought up a whole other topic, the one songwriters most dread to address: the writing itself.

I've been through lo-o-ong dry spells, but this summer I wrote 5 songs, pop pop poppity pop, and I know Carol is still struggling on several levels to get back her muse. She's one of the best writers I know, and her musicality stuns me. In the old days, I'm talking mid 80's to early 90's, she wrote a lot, mostly about horrible breakups. Even her very first album was superb. All the songs were different from one another; they grooved; they lilted; their lyrics twisted and turned and cut and soothed. When she dated & later married Chris, she had to start writing about other stuff because obviously the broken heart was no longer a problem. There were a few fun love songs, some awesome spiritual-type explorations, a couple of gorgeous poem adaptations, and then nothing.

For years.

I know how I get when I can't write. So I know what she means when she says, she wonders if she's losing her ability. And let me tell you, perimenopause is a real thing and it can screw with your language skills. She searches for words and they aren't there to describe what she feels. She defaults to the last known expression ("It's kind of amazing," for example) so that her lexicon grows smaller and smaller. She repeatedly says "flamingo dancing" instead of "flamenco dancing" because she just can't get her tongue around it. The grammarian in me wants to correct her, give her extra homework and make her do it right. But I see that she can't help it, and it's scaring the shit out of her. She's overwhelmed with booking, so it's a struggle to make the time to put business out of mind, and just sit with the piano. But it's also a convenient escape for her, a way to not have to face the question of: "Why am I not writing, and if I were, what would I be saying?"

I have another theory; I've known her now for almost 20 years, and for 10 of those she didn't know Chris. She's evolved a lot in developing her partnership with him. She's not as assertive now, I think, because she lets him handle a lot of things (which he does exceptionally well, and why wouldn't she let him?). I watch as she makes choices to censor herself in order to "make the marriage work," or make the moment work. She'll propose one thing that she fervently wants; he'll say, but it has to be this way, Carol; she'll immediately say, in a higher pitched and enthusiastic voice, "Okay, Chris, that's perfect!" There's something to just letting it go; it's very Buddhist; it makes her open and flowing. I used to think. Or has she just become more conciliatory in order to keep the peace? It's all just in little ways, but lately I've been wondering if she's let herself be censored somehow. That's what I always do in a relationship; I don't know how it happens, but honestly there comes a point when I realize I can't write any more because I'm not able to go deeply in and tell my story. I can't tell my story. I wondered if there's a story to tell now, even about her and Chris, that she can't tell because she directs her thoughts into this channel that agrees with him when she really doesn't; not that those are the things she'd write about, but that kind of minor stifling can be indicative of other, more profound stifling. If she goes in and finds her truth, will that cause ripples in her marriage? Not that I'm imagining they have big unsolved issues; but one's truth is often found in solitude and silence, and she gets very little of either. You have to go so deep to find your truth. You have to dig around sometimes and get it under your fingernails and look at the hurting parts and the ugly parts and then under that is the beauty and then you can articulate it. It's such a vulnerable place to be. You can't just pop in for a little visit.

So we talked about all this (I didn't say about the censored part, just that maybe she wasn't able to get in touch with her story, owing to having too much damn business to do every damn day) and she agreed that she just didn't even know what the story was any more, nor what a "day off" would feel like. Chris offered to make himself scarce on a regular basis if she wanted to schedule work time for herself, as opposed to booking and phone calls. I could tell she was near crying; I know that frustration, that terrible fear that you'll never write again, you're tapped out, you'll never have another good idea, you're done. But she laughed and said, "My band is doing an intervention!" I said we can't do an album of just my songs (we always split our sets about 50/50); it's too much responsibility!

So we scheduled two separate writing retreats in Maine for the summer, as we did last year, and settled the recording question by saying it would even be fine to go one song at a time and not have a deadline for now, just put 'em in the hopper as they get done.

By the way, I don't mean to make Chris sound like he's bossy. He's pretty much a sweetheart. He IS very assertive, and opinionated, and that comes in really handy sometimes when we need a bulldog. It also means that he and I argue occasionally about various things, and we push each other's buttons, but it gives me a chance to get mad and practice my arguing skills, and I don't feel in the end that he's censoring me! :) I bet you bottom dollar, though, that if I were married to him I'd act quite differently. But because I'm only married in a band way, I can take advantage of the education without feeling the pinch of lifetime commitment. Oh, I just don't know how people meld their lives and souls together and keep their autonomy.

While I was writing that, Will called and he was quite exhausted from being away for 4 days on a project, but he's still coming Friday and said he was really looking forward to seeing me. I can always tell his physical state from his first word. I was afraid at first that he'd had a downturn, but he said he was okay, just needed some rest. I wonder if he knows how transparent his voice is. (On his outgoing message, he says "messeege" because he grew up in Ohio and still has a hint of that midwest twang. I think that's so cute, but have never told him.)

Anyway, one more thought about the writing issue, and it's that my songs this summer were: two about Will (I'm milking that for all it's worth -- oh yeah, I still have a whole file of fine lyrics just waiting for a melody...), two dramatic pieces about coworkers from a couple of jobs I had before turning completely to music, and one really funny kind of "theatre/performance art" a capella piece about gardening, believe it or not. If I were happily domiciled with someone, I can't imagine what I'd write about now. Thank God for all that heartache, eh? Nobody coming through the living room saying, "Hey, are you still chewing on this bone or can I THROW IT OUT?"