February 07, 2005

10:59 p.m.

Random Notes from the Road
Florida

Sunday, 1/23, 9:52pm

I came up with an additional New Year's resolution recently, possibly even on this trip. My two main ones were "Be Nice" and "Don't Blame Others," but it occurred to me that I could also benefit from a resolution to "Be Helpful." So I've learned how Mark packs the trunk, so I can get all the instruments in there if he's busy (except the keyboard case which is too heavy for me to lift safely), and he also lets me put his instruments away if I'm all done and he's packing up other things. Little changes like that, instead of running off to change right away or just being completely focused on packing MY stuff, make me a better team player. I hope it makes up for the times I've been bitchy, especially over the last two years. I feel privately bad about all that. I wasn't very good company in 2002, for sure, and even though that was a long time ago, I've gotten very good at recognizing the tone of voice I use when I'm just exasperated with my bandmates and my life, and really would like to blame them for my not feeling good. (See Resolution number two.) I guess all this altruism is really still selfish at heart because it's still all about me, isn't it? ME being a better person, me me me! Anyway it's somehow making the trip more interesting, and more pleasant.

So here we are at Carol's parents' condo, the one they're not living in. In the morning the view out the back slider doors will be spectacular. This is a much bigger place than the assisted living apartment they have now. I can see why C's mom doesn't want to give it up. They get fed at the other place in a nice dining room, and of course with their multiplying medical issues they really need to have help available -- so the move makes some sense. But I don't think they feel a sense of home there.

Anyway I feel quite lucky that we get to stay here. C&C are sleeping in their bed and I get my choice of twin beds in the guest room. We stayed here once before when they were living here (that was, in the winter; their house was in NJ) and I had to sleep in yet a different room, on the sofabed. It was awkward because the tv and the computer were in there, so I'd have to get myself out of the way so her dad could watch his shows or get online. Not a very private situation, that.

There was this little stink before we saw them tonight -- we had to go to the new place to get the keys to this apartment. They were eating dinner in the dining room, and her dad is very stuck on the propriety of dress. Margo said he hates to see her or Mark wear sneakers in the dining room, because "to eat out, you have to dress up." So at first Mg didn't want Mk to even go in with her, because he was wearing jeans, and no sport coat. Finally we just all went in, and the first thing Mr. H. said to Mark was, "So they let you in?" Old-school parents! Such a fuss about a piece of fabric or a shoe! But Margo says it's one of the few things he still has control over in his life -- he can still judge people, and think that he knows what's right and wrong. Oh, please don't ever let me get like that. I'm judgmental enough as it is without being just stupid about a dress code.

8:22pm

We survived the dinner. Carol's mom is so pleasant and cute, and her dad is so disagreeable. C. did an award-winning job of trying to engage him in conversation. He was a miner, and she kept asking him about the countries he'd worked in and so forth. He's rather hard of hearing, and the restaurant was a little loud, so it was a bit of a gamble trying to converse with him. Another of his pet peeves is when people put their elbows on the table, and the three of us in turn kept catching ourselves doing that, and then switching to resting our wrists on the table instead. Then on the way home there was this slight disagreement over whether large corporations are contributing to the depletion of the earth's resources and the deaths of species; C's dad insists that corporations have nothing to do with this and that they're just trying to survive. It's the people, he claims; there are just too many people in the world, and that's the problem. If people would just stop having so many children, everything would be fine. Chris tried to point out that corporations are made up of people, but dad wouldn't buy it. The argument continued after we dropped the parents off, Carol feeling that Chris was just making baiting statements, and Chris unwilling to retract anything he said. I feel like C's dad's world has long since shrunk into a room with immovable furniture.

After a busy weekend of gigs, I've gone into a crash on our midweek rest period. Unexpectedly bitter towards Will, and very ambivalent and concerned about what may or may not develop with my new friend. I know I haven't written much about him yet. Sometimes I truly wonder what I'm capable of feeling any more. He is very nice; I like him a lot already, and it's clear he's very interested in me. I'm so unused to being pursued that I'm having a hard time determining whether my feelings or attitudes are sincere towards him -- just because I'm not doing any of the chasing. Isn't that weird? I'm sure things will be clearer over time, but this transition is difficult and scary. I've been secretly depressed and a little weepy.

Tuesday, 1/25, 9:54am

Coolish again, but blue-skied and bright. C&C have gone to Carol's parents' other place. I slept in longer than I expected, so I got up just before they left. I'm sitting in the kitchen looking out the back window/wall at the water. I heard there used to be manatees there, but no one has seen them lately. Also one of their neighbors has said she's seen dolphins swimming up the river. I've seen a few pelicans. Haven't walked out there yet. There's a little path that goes through the scrub and down along the water's edge, which one might walk on a day like this if it warms up a bit. I need to solo practice a little, but other than that I think I'll do nothing until they return. We have a formal practice scheduled for 3:00.

Still feeling a bit ill-fated today.

Yeah, I see a motorboat out there. No wonder there aren't any manatees.

("There are six billion people in the world. If people would just stop procreating, everything would be fine!")

Wed., 1/26, 4:18pm

I called Steve late last night and told him about my terrors. I was shy about talking in that room; even though it was at the end of the condo, it seemed to echo and I didn't want anyone to hear me, and it was hard enough to talk about the things that were bothering me. I've made it clear that I don't prefer talking on the phone, so Steve and I haven't had that many conversations -- and most of them have been not in private, so they're still rather polite and stammery. Anyway, he suggested I get under the covers so my voice wouldn't ring out, so I did; and he got under a sleeping bag that he uses for cover when he naps, and we talked on the phone under the blankets for an hour and a quarter. And I tried to talk about all these dark parts of myself, and how I don't know this and am afraid of that, and how all the ghosts hang around and how broken I feel, and he just said, "You know, you're not scaring me at all; I still like you," and we laughed and I felt better finally.

And then I had the most magnificent dream last night, or early this morning, of which I knew, when I awoke, that I'd remember but little. It's too bad; it was unprecedented in lucidity, amazingness and complexity! I only remember two or three snippets now, though the dream seemed to have multiple scenes and go on and on. First I "landed"' somewhere wintry, either by driving there or stepping off a bus or train or something. I just remember arriving in the middle of nowhere, nothing around but snow, and wondering where I was going or what I'd do, and then there was this sort of whump -- and I was on my back in the drift, having experienced some kind of quick avalanche where the snow collapsed several feet. I looked to my right and, to my utter amazement, the collapse of snow had revealed a number of beautiful, glittery caverns that I could now go into. Not only that, but there was someone there that I think was my new friend. It didn't look like him; he's not beautiful on the outside, and this person was handsome and radiant; kind of like an angel, but definitely human. But there was a way in which I think he represented Steve. He proceeded to show me all these places and things I now can't remember. But it went from scene to scene, and each time I was completely aware I was dreaming, and praying I wouldn't wake up because it was so beautiful and fun. He took me from magical place to magical place. One scene seemed to be where this person lived, and there were shelves of cool things and I was just looking around amazed at what a long dream this was, and trying to memorize everything so I'd remember it when I awoke.

THEN -- switch to a later scene. I'm somebody's daughter, and I also have an older sister, and it's like in the old South and our mother is planning a dance event for us to get into society and meet gentlemen -- the word cotillion comes to mind -- and up to now I haven't been the least interested in the event. But she's going over a list of something referring to the dance, and all in a rush I realize I have to be ready for this, it's very important and I desperately need my new friend's help. The way this comes out is that she has a list of my songs, like a set list, but no song titles, just the keys they're in. And it's suddenly critically important that I decipher this list and know for sure which songs are in the key of E, or start with an E chord. I go tearing down hallways and up stairways to find this guy, and when I do I collapse on the floor with the list, panting and begging him to tell me which songs start with E? Because he knows, he has the key.

********

Meanwhile, I probably mentioned before that Rose, Mike and I are making a day trip to Steve's town a week after I return. It was going to be our first date except that we actually saw each other that one time before our Florida tour. Early on, not knowing the impact it would have, I told him the story of Tim, whom I dated briefly after Ed died (a horrible mistake, but hey), and how his house, when I finally went to visit him, was so horribly filthy and broken and his shower was so black with mildew I was afraid to touch anything. So in the last week, Steve has put a new sink in his bathroom, fixed the toilet once and for all, and installed new carpet. He's also spent two entire days cleaning and dusting. He assures me that, although my visit was the impetus for this frenzy, even if nothing develops between us, at least he'll have a clean house and a new start. I think it's very funny and touching. (He also has three dogs so he's concerned that I'll be allergic to the hair and so forth.)

I recognize that, due to various circumstances including the deaths of his mother and three best friends over the last few years, he's become stoic and reserved, and this is clear evidence of his waking up to life again. I'm very excited about this whether it ultimately involves me or not.

10:59pm

We plan to leave about 12:30, stop and do email at the library, then head out to our next hotel. It's supposed to be a nice one near the water, so we want some time to enjoy it in the afternoon before sound check.

I have a niggly sore throat again. Left tonsil this time. I've had quite enough of sore throats already this winter, so I hope it doesn't turn into anything. Someone said this is a heavy allergen time of year here, and I've been sneezing a lot. Anyway I've been gargling with hydrogen peroxide solution and taking ibuprofen. Pain in the neck though, literally.

I talked to Dar today and he said they were getting another 6 inches of snow. Ack.

I suddenly hoped, tonight, that my apartment was okay. I left the heater on very low, so it would only come on once in a while if it got really cold in there. It's my first experiment with leaving for a long time in the winter. I also hope all my plants are all right at Hilarie's. At least my car's in a garage.

I guess I'll put my throat to bed, along with my worries and memories of the enormous meal we had and the smell of the laundry we just washed. We'll be back here next Thursday for a quick overnight, then our last Sunday before leaving Monday the 7th for home. Looking at it that way, I can almost start to begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Wednesday, 2/2, 6:35pm

Throat is fine now. We're back in Floral City for our midweek rest. The weekend went really well overall; new gigs, new fans. We've finally unveiled two new songs from last summer's writing retreat, and they're fun to play. Today Carol and I went into Inverness to the old courthouse, which has been turned into a museum. They have one room that's a "prehistory" exhibit, mostly about indigenous tribes that we've since booted out of existence, one room on early local history, and the room we went there to see, on The Highwaymen. I don't mean a musical group; this was a group of blacks in the 50s and 60s who decided that they would escape the poverty typical of their race and time by painting Florida landscapes en masse, & selling them to businesses and private folks door to door. They had a mentor who taught them to paint, and they'd work together in a makeshift studio or outside along a fence, painting quickly on some roof material I can't remember the name of but it was square and sturdy, and then framing the pictures with wall molding which they would paint with white house paint and then brush lightly with gold paint for an antiqued effect. The molding stuck out an inch or two, protecting the paintings as they were stacked together sometimes before they had even dried. They sold for $25 - $35 apiece, and soon other would-be painters were leaving their hard, low paying jobs as grove laborers, to learn to paint. "Fast grass" was effected by dabbing with a pallette knife instead of a brush. Typical scenes would include palm trees, water, and birds. Some of them were downright hastily done, with garish colors and little detail. But a few were nice. Somehow they managed to elude police and other authority figures as they travelled constantly through this area of Florida, hocking their pictures from a car or truck. They made a lot of money for the time, and the estimated number of their paintings is something like 100,000. Eventually they had to hire salesmen to do the legwork so they could keep up with the demand for paintings. In the 80s someone dubbed them "The Highwaymen" because of the itinerant nature of their business, and suddenly paintings came out of attics and basements that had been worth nothing and now were hugely valuable.

Upstairs was the renovated old courtroom, which I suppose isn't used any more as they've built a new, modern courthouse across the block -- and there were some photos of Elvis, because he filmed part of a movie there.

On the way back we stopped at a fruit stand and FINALLY got some oranges. I also found a Claxton fruitcake, my favorite, which I couldn't find all through the Christmas season. It's not that big so it'll be easy to carry -- and I doubt any of it will make it home anyway. C. got some peanut brittle, and we also picked up some strawberries. They've been pretty good, but they breed them rather crunchy here and I miss the soft, sweet Connecticut berries that I used to sell at the farm stand.

We've also learned that when you find a wild orange tree, chances are the fruit tastes like lemons.

Everybody seems to be home from work now and I'm starting to feel very antisocial and rude, so I'll go out and mingle a while.

10:41pm

Time for bed. We've stayed with our hosts here for three January tours running. They're the ones who took us to see the manatees in '03. We'll be leaving tomorrow morning for Harbour Ridge again, in order to be closer to the Friday gig. It's our last weekend in Florida. I'll be really glad to get home to my own place again.

Our hosts have three little parrots, the largest of which (still rather medium sized) has taken an uncanny liking to Chris. Birds are wild, and it's not usually a good idea to try to handle someone else's, especially when they're not home. But Chris takes this one out of his cage, pets him, turns him upside down, has him do his couple of little tricks, and the bird is perfectly content to sit on him for a while and mellow out. It's very funny and endearing.

I've decided I have to have some kind of conversation with Dar next week, so that he knows something or other is going on with me and this other person, undefined though it is as yet. Carol and I talked for a while last night and she pointed out that, for all I know, Dar may have his own secret life that he's chosen not to tell me about. Witness the fact that, all the time we had more of a dating relationship (a few years ago), he never told his female roommate about me for fear she'd be upset -- though they had a platonic relationship. "Does she have a claim on you?" I'd ask. He'd say, "No, but it's just this unspoken thing... we're more like domestic partners... it's not a physical relationship but it's just been this way for a long time..." (That's maybe 15 or 20 years of sharing space.) I think he falls into this "unspoken rules" thing because it keeps him from having to confront any issues. But it's what I always objected to about our relationship -- I could never get him to clarify what he wanted or didn't want, or hoped for or didn't hope for -- although there has been more than one occasion when I've seen some kind of posessiveness on his part. So now we basically have this phone relationship and once in a while we can get together, when schedules permit. And he's always thoughtful and good to me and generous beyond reason... and we laugh a lot and enjoy a lot of the same things. But I suspect that he'd be content to just go on this way, demanding nothing of me but happy enough that I'm not involved with anyone else. I really have no idea how he'll react to find that there's someone else I like, and would like to know better. I'm nervous about bringing it up. It's not like he's my boyfriend; but I don't know what he is, because he's never been able or willing to help me clarify it.

So I have to jump into that pool very soon. I'm hoping Tuesday night. Argh.

Meanwhile Steve knows all about it, and I know all about whoever is in his life, and he's been sort of clearing the slate (not to mention cleaning the nest) for my possible entrance. Just in case. Just in case I like his house enough to hang there, to consider it a haven, a stopover, a retreat. Just in case he doesn't smother me with endearing epithets and praises, and I happen to like his town and his friends and his dogs and his book collection and the films he's made, and himself, enough to see him again.

I have to admit I like him a lot.

********

Friday, 2/4, 11:07am

I woke up at dawn and, rather than toss myself back into the sea of sleep again, I got up and looked out at the harbor. It's a gray day, blustery and somber. The harbor is choppy, pulled by a restless tide. It's reflecting my life perfectly. I had the talk with Dar last night. It was really bothering me and I knew I'd be distracted by it all weekend if I didn't bring it up sooner than next week. In the end it was just as well, because he now has five scripts to read next week, as well as working, and going to some rehearsals. If I'd waited, there might not have been an opportunity next week at all.

We must have talked for 45 minutes before I found an opening in which to tell him. It was very hard to find. He gave me the NPR report, we made rodent jokes, talked about the day's events, and a hundred other things that came in succession. This is one of the difficulties of talking about anything serious with him. When he outlined his coming week, I knew I'd be miserable if I didn't get it off my chest.

So I told him that I liked someone that I'd like to know better, and that I thought he should know. I was as loving and gentle as I could be, and tried to really open the door for him to respond; he was quiet and understanding, and devastated. He said he knew it was coming, that I deserved someone in my life and that I should do what I needed to do. I wished we'd been able to talk about this stuff before, to lay some kind of groundwork; he agreed that he lived with these "unspoken agreements" (like with his roommate) and that made it harder to talk about it when circumstances forced the issue. We both said that we can't imagine our lives without each other in them. He said he'd be jealous. I asked him to keep talking to me, telling me what he feels, whether he's pissed off or upset or sad. He's not a person who puts his cards on the table. I am; and I think our friendship requires it now.

I'm really sad for him today. I can't help thinking that having no spiritual belief system in place makes it harder to bear unhappy times. I can't say how many times I've wished I could instill faith in a larger picture into him. He's very resilient and strong, but he's also tremendously sensitive. He hates getting older and knowing that more of his life is behind than ahead, feeling that this is all there is. We've known each other seven years, almost. I can hardly believe this has happened.

It's a big, big day, and tectonic plates are shifting with a great grinding of stones. I think eventually, maybe soon, I'll cheer up and begin to take delight in my new friend and the possibilities surrounding him; but right now I'm just mourning for Dar and sad that today is today for him.

Monday, 2/7, 10:57pm
Home

Carol's folks took us out to dinner one last time on Sunday. When we all hugged goodbye, her mom said, "You're like my other daughter," and I said, "You're like my other mom." It was a very sweet moment.

The flight was direct and completely hassle-free. Our luggage even came out right away, and Chris had no trouble or delay returning the rental and getting his own car from the parking lot, which was no longer covered with snow. I picked up some sushi on the way home and have been handling about 80 emails since dinner.

And this is long enough. Thanks for getting to the end of it with me, those of you who are still reading.