April 14, 2004

10:14 a.m.

Magnet Wisdom

I can tell the weather has turned, just today. Yesterday it rained all day and night, and the driving to and from Boston was unpleasant. But this morning, though it's still overcast and a bit foggy, there's a foreshadow of real Spring in the air and a promise of the warm press of Summer.

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Dar and I had a lovely afternoon at the Museum of Fine Arts, wandering through a massive exhibit of Gaugin with our little audio guides telling us all about his life in Tahiti and how he created his own myth of their ancient gods and traditions even though by the time he got there in the late 1800s it was already spoiled by missionaries and smallpox and so forth. He took a thirteen-year-old lover and made her the subject of many of his paintings. I daresay he gave her syphilis, though they didn't specify. I loved his pallette; he had a way of infusing skin tones with golden reds and greens all at the same time, so that everyone lived in this sunset world against a strangely defined but brightly colored background. My impression is of a very sad, troubled and prolific man.

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After some poking around on Charles Street where I used to do windows, we ate dinner at Olives, the most posh and fabulous restaurant I've ever experienced. Every single thing on the menu was amazing, and we couldn't pronounce most of it. First they bring some hunks of exquisite bread -- kind of a focaccia, only really soft, and an olive oil dip with this blob of finely pulverized olive paste -- black and green -- and that alone could have been dinner. The smooth doughiness of the warm bread and the tang of the olives... We then had an appetizer of a fois gras flan with some fig thing and truffles. I had duck l'orange with some other goodies, and Dar had swordfish, and we pre-ordered the Fallen Chocolate Cake for dessert. It comes just out of the oven, looking innocently like cake on the outside but still all gooey in the center, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side, and it all sits on this pool of raspberry puree syrup but with a ring of chocolate syrup around the outside. I loved that the portions were exactly right. We ate everything and did not bust, but were completely satisfied. The only thing we didn't have was wine; I just wasn't in the mood (oh, how life has changed... how can I ever not be in the mood for wine?). And it seemed like every waiter in the place was our waiter. After every course, someone would come and wash the table so it was perfect again.

I don't even want to know what the bill was.

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I called my brother in law from the car because he and Dar had gone to Olives recently when bro was in town on business. Rose was having her meditation group downstairs at the time, so bro picked up the phone upstairs and sounded a little stuffed up. Turns out he'd gotten news at dinner that a dear friend of his had died, so he was crying a little.

We chatted for a few minutes. The little black dog is much better, acting very frisky now. The other little dog has still been a little sick from the doggie virus they had, but is on the mend. Bro wanted to know what we'd eaten, so I gave him the list.

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After the email I sent to Chase last week, he took a day or so to think out a reply. In a very condensed nutshell, here has been our correspondence:

1) Bornearly to Chase: Jeez, you were trying to get into my pants all night.

2) Chase to B.e: No I wasn't!

3) B.e. to Chase: Okay, but here's the list of things that apparently misled me: a)Immediate attempt to kiss me in doorway, b)"Shall I bring up my overnight things?" c)"Shall I bring up the massage oil?" d)"It's no secret that I find you attractive." e)"I haven't had sex with my girlfriend in years." f)(Whips off shirt to demonstrate how guys put on their shirts) "So, I guess I just have to imagine how you'd do it?" g)"Shall I massage you now on the rug?" h)etc.

4) No further reply from Chase.

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D and I visited the museum gift shop. I got a postcard with a detail from a Gaugin painting, and he got me one of those kitchen magnets that one sees in trendy little shops now, of a smiling 40s type woman with the finely plucked eyebrows, the perfect swooped hair, and lively red lipstick -- and lots of decolletage -- with cut-out typed words saying, "it's so involved being me". I put the period after the quotes because there's no punctuation in the words. They're just plunked unevenly on the side of the photo like fridge poetry.

I also picked up a box of origami paper. At a recent house concert we played (the one with the mead), the guy said his daughter had died about a year ago -- I'm not sure how -- but that she'd loved unicorns. After she died he was going through her things and found a journal. She had written a lot about unicorns, saying all the herds had died out, and that 2,000 animals made up a herd. So he has taken it upon himself to create 2,000 origami unicorns -- they're about 1" long -- and give every one away (except for a few hanging in the house), thereby repopulating the herd. So far he's made about 1200. He gave us each one. I started thinking about origami then. I hadn't done any in years but it seemed like maybe Will should at least get a life-affirming crane or something in his care package. So anyway I was practicing a little last night. Not bad. I plan to do some more on this beautiful, gray day.

Unless of course my bandmates talk me into driving to Avon for the first viewing of part of our video shoot. So far I have not been able to talk myself into going. There's so much else I could be doing. I should balance my checkbook. I should find a filing cabinet. I should pay a couple of bills. I should work out. I should eat sensibly. I should order a pickup for the Franklin. I should change all my strings. I should practice the bass. It's not certain that I would do any of these things, but they're looking better right now that driving to Avon.

it's so involved being me