April 08, 2007

11:52 p.m.

Easter Blues

First of all, very nice gig last night, in my neighborhood. It's a sweet restaurant with excellent food and a happy crowd. Someone I didn't know handed me her phone and said my ex boss (from oh, years ago) was on the line and wanted to talk to me. He lives out that way, and I worked for him in the mid-90s and we're not much in touch, although I met up with his wife in a parking lot a couple of months ago -- anyway they've been known to come see us at that particular venue in the past, and he just called a friend of his who was there, to say he was sorry they couldn't make it. Saw another old friend, and Rose and Marc also came and I did remember to put them on a guest list so they wouldn't be socked for another $30 in addition to dinner. Went to bed very late.

So today I got up early, thinking, "There are poems to be written," and worked a while, figuring I could take a nap later. The latter half of the day became morose, though, as I ran out of things to write and became lonely. No place to go; everything closed for Easter. I was looking forward to this empty day and then all I wanted was some company, but I didn't know whose. I played eighty-seven games of computer Mahjongg. I did take a nap around supper time, having eaten supper early, because of having eaten breakfast late... and I have, in fact, written several really outstanding poems this week. So all is not in vain. But oh, how Will has come back to me -- Sig called yesterday afternoon and said if his studio session ended early enough he'd come to our gig, which was five minutes from his house. But he didn't show. That's okay. Only it makes me think of Will, because Sig is my only connection to Will and it may well have been that Will was in the studio yesterday. I got to wondering if things like that ever really heal completely, and I'm guessing not. I hate to say it, but not at this age. Something got kind of finished back then. I don't know how to explain it. It's like I don't need to experiment any more. I've tried this relationship and that one, and this and that way of being, and I know what I want and what I don't want, and if what I want isn't available I won't take anything else, just to see. I don't need to "just see" any more.

However, I do want to put together another poetry book, and I've made a start. They're funnier than last time. I'm casting around for different things to write about, and suddenly developing a new style. Reading Billy Collins has taught me a lot. He has this way of starting a premise with, What would happen if -- ? and exploring that to the hilt. So instead of the intimate, stream-of-consciousness writings I did before, I'm creating stories of what might happen, if. They're still slices of my life, but I think they'll be more engaging and, dare I say, more worthy of publishing.

And maybe they'll be less self-indulgent and bleating. Bleeding.

So it's 10:15pm and I've eaten everything I can reasonably eat tonight, drunk all the wine I'm entitled to, and watched an episode of "The Irish R.M." on video. I can't think of another thing to write a poem about and I'm bored silly. As Dar would say, "Amuse me! Make sport! Bring on the jongleurs!"

I can't remember the last time I was this bored.

Rehearsal tomorrow. It'll drag me up out of my funk, anyway. We're looking at older material we haven't played in ages, so it should be sufficiently taxing.

Why is no one calling me? Why aren't people sending me gushing love letters and gifts and money? Why has no one famous covered any of my songs yet? Why aren't I rich? Why was the gym closed today just because it's a major Christian holiday? Why isn't it warm? Why do I crave sugar for twelve hours out of every twenty-four? Why is my neck still stiff? Why does everything cost so much? Why aren't I happeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee??

(This reminds me of a funny one-act play by Christopher Durang, called Laughing Wild. I wonder if I still have that script... probably not. It's a very amusing read. I'd like to see it done some time.)

Okay, I've made an adjustment. I've been wearing a hat all day, this cool hat that James got me for Christmas, kind of a suedecloth affair with fuzz inside and moon and star studs around the outside. Now I've placed my tiara over that. Maybe it'll make me feel more rich and Queenly. This most excellent tiara that Hiss sent me, which arrived almost exactly on my 47th birthday. That seems a long time ago now... buh-HUH-HUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! The passage of tiiiiiiiiiiiime! The compounding of wounds and the aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaging proceeeeeeess!

Well, there's no snapping out of this one. I must find something to amuse me. Jester, gambol and frolic! For God's sake bring on the jongleurs!

I went back to the gym day before yesterday. Broke the ice. It'll be a long way back, I can tell. I wanted to go back today, but NO, it was closed. I want to go tomorrow, but I have rehearsal. I'm considering how likely it will be that I'll actually get up early to go BEFORE rehearsal. So far I am reserving judgment on that.

Also finished a really good book, and I think I'm feeling withdrawal from that. I so love having a really fat, fascinating book. I used to approach every Stephen King book that way. I wonder why I stopped reading him. Must visit the library soon.

Obviously I have nothing of importance to say, so I'll take my draggin' ass over to the other computer (the one that's connected) and load this up. Perhaps there's a wonderful fan letter in my inbox.