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2019-05-03 - 3:47 a.m.

Many random things that haven't gotten written down elsewhere this week...


Bizarre-o dreams. Unisom, I guess.

A nightmare of being "home," a grand version of the second Tega Cay house. Mary still refusing to speak to or even acknowledge me. She and Sue had friends staying. I was a pariah.

Another end-of-school-year dream. I was deciding I'd blow off my last two classes and/or exams. I was going around saying goodbye. Hardy Weaver, someone who may have been Christian Thomas. Bizarre roommate arrangements, and a dorm room or apartment floor covered in long-dead fall leaves (which are piled at many a Central Neighborhood curb these days). Me realizing that under all these leaves were boxes of things and even furniture I hadn't packed yet, and I was due to leave in the morning.

Strangest of all, an urban odyssey involving more than one alluring stranger, a UFO crashing at a gas station 100 yards away, missing a bus to Queens, then sharing another bus with a truly motley collection of misfits, one of whom was wearing no pants.

So many different variations of trying to get home.

Seared ahi tuna and broccoli with red and yellow peppers for dinner, lean and good, but of course I couldn't sleep until I'd had a small turkey sandwich. I've lost almost 10 pounds.

David dropped off Sunday's new anthem; it includes chord designations.

I still can't find the links to the acting excerpts for swordfern. None of them. Not "RED," not "King John," not "Rigby." Damn, damn, damn.

Trey sold me the tuna at the Lucky's meat counter. He didn't have his nametag on, but I asked "Are you Trey?" Said I'd had a very good friend with that name in college. He told me he was named for a Cuba Gooding, Jr. character. I thought "well at least you're mom's no racist." Said "you could do worse, an Oscar winning role and a handsome one." He say there's a Guy in food production.

I read a little Melville; how could I not have been mesmerized before? Studied some lines, some Fourth Step stuff (as per yesterday afternoon's entry).

Interesting and coincidental: Colin Jackson posted a wonderful question on Facebook: what work of art failed to impress you the first time but you later fell in love? I posted three answers: The film version of "Out of Africa." Moby Dick. The "Recordare" from the Mozart Requiem.

Forgot to record that one of our semi-regulars was in yesterday with a very cranky women obviously his wife. She was a shrew to Josh, who was clearly a trainee, and grew downright nasty when we both misheard "bacon mac-n-cheese" as "bacon, egg, and cheese." She snapped at him several times, and as they turned away I said "thanks for being so nice and patient with a trainee!" Over their heads.

E-mail and text exchange with Joe about Diana's situation. A woman named Cindy Lyons Williams will cover, do at least a performance or two. I volunteered for extra rehearsal time when it'll help.

Derek said he's "quite excited" to shop and cook together tomorrow evening. "My wife and never do this." "Never do what?" "Have romantic shopping expeditions together to cook a gourmet meal." "Maybe it's time to start." "Agreed." He's so very, very young.

A little more internet surfing and I saw that Trastevere is the home to the American Academy. Well, DUH. John Guare, Pat Conroy have been denizens, and probably McNally. Realized Conroy's description of the farmers' market in Rome at the beginning of Beach Music would be a great resource for Derek.

I am so very unenthusiastic about work, but money is really tight - and I've been scheduled for only three days next week - ? How can that be so when we're so busy, and with all the "Now Hiring!" signs everywhere. Can't figure Panera out. Also: was really counting on the April church check by now. Where the hell is it? We were planning to go out to dinner tonight, but probably not gonna happen.

This week's Express cover is "YOU'RE HIRED!" in huge letters, with a subheading: "More than 200 great gigs...." The article says in essence that with unemployment so low you can practically write your own ticket. The vast majority of the "200 great gigs" are at $10/hr and/or for part-time or seasonal work. Don't even think about benefits. That's two bucks less an hour than McDonald's and Burger King are paying in town.

Only one way the country seems to be careening driverless and at accelerating speed to meltdown or anarchy. Barr's appearance before the Senate Judiciary Committee was a horror show that made the Oliver North hearings look bipartisan. He has refused to meet with House members (and their attorneys) and the Democrats are "considering" contempt charges. At a rally in Green Bay the other day The New Yorker quoted Trump supporters as thrilled that he's ridding DC of "corrupt insiders, really draining the swamp." He's "for families, who doesn't love that?" He "talks the way normal people do in their backyards!" (I wanted to say "What way? Racist? Crude?")

Matt said that next week he'll have been at ProImage for 5 years. I would've guessed two or three. But of course (as he reminded me) five years ago this week he was at the Record-Eagle. I did not say out loud that that means I would've been done with TT&A for the season and continuing my almost-year of literally incapacitating depression - near catatonia, at times - and my first real descent into serious alcoholism.

I'm sad this morning. Which makes no sense, since there is much to look forward to tomorrow: The first outdoor farmers' market! "Mary Poppins Returns" for a quarter at The State. Shopping and cooking with Derek. Why am I so sad? Perhaps it's just being so stretched and tired.

Time to begin another Panera day, but there's a four-day weekend coming.

Which I guess is both good and bad.


PS: Downloaded "The Light in the Piazza." Finally. Listened to much of it while prepping dinner. Falling in love anew. "On a central square in the city of the sun rose a palace," and so much more. Talk of Italy for "Mothers and Sons" has brought it all up. And best, and most haunting, of all:

And look and look and look and look and look
For the eyes
On a bridge in a pouring rain
Not the eyes but the part you can't explain
For the arms you could fall into forever

For the joy that you thought you'd never know
For here at last away you go
To a man who looks for you

Til you find in the world
In the wide, wide world
That someone sees
That someone knows you


ebb - flow

Many random things that haven't gotten written down elsewhere this week... - 2019-05-03
Afternoon entry: work better even though skies still gloomy, and a satisfyingly productive afternoon... - 2019-05-02
We actually had a GOOD rehearsal. And I have so much more to say than I could include here... - 2019-05-02
Is there such a thing as a kind, open-hearted narcissist? - 2019-05-01
Tuesday morning's entry Monday night; tomorrow I'll sleep in a little... - 2019-04-29

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