March 19, 2006

6:47 p.m.

F.I.T.

Just drove in from Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania. We didn't get quite enough sleep last night and had to arise early to sing at a church service this morning, before our five-hour drive home, so by the time I got to Trader Joe's just over the Connecticut border I had to pull into a parking space and close my eyes. Twenty minutes went by in a heartbeat. I'd told my bandmates to go ahead and shop and move on if I wasn't awake, and I think they were gone by the time I got out of the store. I haven't been that close to falling asleep at the wheel for a long, long time.

I pulled over once more in Coventry where my closest bank branch is, intending to nap again, but there I was with the weekend's check so I deposited it in the ATM instead and then made it home.

We had a nice weekend, particularly last night at a place called Godfrey Daniels in Bethlehem. It's been running for 30 years and lots of high end performers have come through. Last night was their 30th birthday bash and we were the featured act. It was great for us because it meant the room was full; we've played there a few times before but haven't drawn fabulously. But fans and new people were there and they might have been the best audience we've ever played. One person of note was also there, a big surprise from my past, and an unexpected blessing.

About 20 years ago I was living with my parents in New Hampshire, and we were all actively involved with a local community theatre. I was an aspiring actress, but my parents just wanted to have some fun, and they did get a few parts. We were even in one show all together, which would have been a wonderful time except that my dad was having a rather flagrant affair with the music director, and things weren't so good at home. It was made more confusing by the fact that said music director was something of a mentor of mine, at a time when I desperately needed one. I'm afraid I wasn't much help to mom during that terrible, pre-separation debacle. In the end the mentor proved not to have much to offer, and she and dad broke up nastily after a lot of drama. But meanwhile I was having the occasional fling with other members of the theatre group, none of whom meant anything at all in retrospect, but who collectively summed up my desperate need for validation and connection.

Aside from the actual short-lived affairs I had, there were one or two guys with whom I flirted inappropriately. One of these was R. I have only a vague memory of him; two things come to mind. One was a party by the theatre group at which there was dancing and general merriment; might have been a cast party. I guess I was dancing with R., and although I knew not only that he was married but that his wife was pregnant (and present), I was paying him a little more attention than was socially responsible. He seemed to like me too but wasn't doing anything overtly wrong; nevertheless his wife was getting pissed. The other memory I have was, some time later, being very depressed (as I often was) and looking up his phone number and calling him to have someone to talk to. I could tell he was not in a position to talk to me, nor was there a precedent for this. His wife was probably there glaring at him, her belly out to here, wondering what in the hell he was doing, maybe having to pee but not wanting to leave the room until he'd hung up... He was polite and tried to be nice without saying anything at all really, and I soon took the hint, thanked him and hung up. I was so miserable and in need of some understanding. And I had no reasonable boundaries, obviously. But I felt very embarrassed about the whole thing and never approached him again.

So, here it is 20 years later and that experience is about as far away as it can be. We're at a gig in PA and Carol comes up to me and says, "Your dad's name was xxx, right? And your mom was yyy?" and I say, "Yes," and she says, "Well, this man thinks he knew all of you!" and there's this guy I don't recognize. He says the name of the acting group and the town, and his name, and I know immediately who he is. He gives me a little hug and I'm shaking my head in complete puzzlement.

We talked for several minutes, and when the people in our immediate vicinity dispersed, we kept talking, and I finally said, "I'm having this vague, disturbing memory... I don't know if..." He said, "I remember." We kind of laughed and I said, "Should I be apologising for that?..." He assured me that he'd always thought I was a terrific person, just that he hadn't thought it was the best thing in the long term to respond to me then. Thank God, I thought. Somebody had some sense. He said that marriage had broken up eventually and he'd remarried; he played bass and guitar in a blues band, and his daughter also plays the bass. I thought that was cool, and also that I'd been given the chance, out of the blue, to speak some kind of atonement for something I did long ago that was irresponsible. Even 20 years ago; I thought how nice it would be to have the opportunity to erase all the little blunders one commits over half a lifetime. What a gift.

I also received a marriage proposal from someone in the audience, on the back of his business card. We had a very nice bantering chat after the show. He's retired from his regular job but has been doing voiceover work for 20 years, and owns 9 acres in Pennsylvania (but made it clear he could relocate). He wasn't weird or anything, and the people at the venue knew him because he's supported the place for years, and a woman there actually introduced us. He said he'd let me "make the first call," but I'm not going to respond further. It was flattering but I've learned my lesson with Steve. It's of no use to allow someone to talk me into a dating situation if I don't already feel the pull. The Emotion Junkie in me won't settle for something that merely looks good on paper. I made some joke to Chris later about, in my 80s, looking through my little box of all the marriage proposals I received after I decided to remain single and alone.

Anyway that was my first proposal in all my years of gigging. And actually, I threw out his card.

(I don't think I mentioned the love-limerick I got after Texas. Let's not go into that.)

I haven't written about Texas, and now it's receded enough that the details are hard to dredge back up. It was an excellent tour, though. I probably gained some weight because we ate mountains of chocolate. Oh, who the fuck cares? No one is seeing my body, for God's sake! Anyway we made some brass and some new fans. AND we got to work with Calvin making some small clay figures for his airport mosaic installation. That was SO cool. Of course I made Dar a little mouse. I've yet to give it to him.

I'm a wee bit tired. Tomorrow I won't be good for much; then we're rehearsing and/or recording and/or mixing the next two days. Thursday I also have off, then we're in Troy, NY on Friday. But for now, a glass of wine and Six Feet Under. And the turkey I'm defrosting in the microwave.

Oh, what does the title mean? Fuck, I'm tired!