Celebrity sightings

At The Half Note may not be the blog of choice for those in the mood for models and movie stars, but for my readers who enjoy an occasional flirt with fame, here are a few familiar faces I've recently seen around town.

Sonia Braga, in yoga attire in the East Village.


Usher, sans an entourage on the Upper West Side.


Peter Gallagher, on Restaurant Row.


Mike Myers, spotted yesterday in Soho, and the only one so far that has impressed Annie.

Balance

I have a fear of heights, of falling down stairs, and of having my legs crushed between two cars. When I "empty the trash" on my computer, I have to turn up the volume because I find it unnerving not to hear the little sound it makes. I'm hyper-sensitive to supermarket music and gum-cracking, and I sometimes sleep with my toes crossed and my finger in my belly button.

But I freely hold the germ-ridden rails of the subway train, I'm not afraid of the dark or of being alone, I never check twice to see if the mail went into the box, and I have complete faith that the world will keep turning until it explodes.

Goodnight

For Annie from Mommy

Play it

Tonight was like a jazz concert, a meditation session, and the best drug trip you could ever take.

Click here to read about the 4 incredible musicians that made up an incredible night.

For Tai

You make it poetry.

Loving in the moment

Annie: "I love you, Mom."

Me: "I love you, Annie."

Annie: "I mean, I love you NOW."

Long pause.

Me: "You mean you might not love me later?"

Annie: "I'm not sure yet."

Long pause.

Me: "I can accept that."

Heavenly shades of night are calling...

It's Twilight time.

Sitting at the sidebar

It never ceases to amaze me, how I can walk into the market for my morning cup of coffee and just like that, depending on what music is playing, be transported someplace else.

Here's what was on today, a song and a songstress who, even before I'm fully awake, never fail to take me straight to the land of love.

Annie has blogged.

Power to the people

It's official, this bill won't have a shot.

Legend in my own mind

When I first did a google search for my name, I was shocked to find there were--now brace yourselves--other Katie Bowens.

There are Katie Bowens in the Midwest and Katie Bowens in the South, there are Katie Bowen athletes and Katie Bowen prom queens.

I wondered what life could possibly be like for the other Katie Bowens, I wondered if they shared anything in common. And as I carefully studied each photograph, I found it--an inexplicable emptiness, an unidentifiable pain that surely must come from living the life of a Katie Bowen who, regardless of her beauty and poise, athletic or academic success, is destined to live in my shadow--without knowledge or awareness, without a hope or a prayer.

See for yourself.

Katie Bowen
Katie Bowen
Katie Bowen

Katie Bowen

Katie Bowen

In my dreams

I dreamed a woman in a black dress came out of a spaceship and approached me.

"I will arrive in a way that impresses you," she said.

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep,"I replied.

Promise

More blogging upon landing.

San Francisco 1967

Daniel on the left, Jojo on the right, and there's me in my usual street attire--buck naked in a blanket.

I live in a small town

I was downtown recently and met a flight attendant. Seven days later, I was uptown and met another flight attendant. As it turns out, the two worked for the same airline on the same flight.

Goodnight

Party parts

Not really a film by Katie Bowen, but certainly a glimpse into the warm and wacky world in which she lives.

Drink with a view

Thirsty for more? Visit Snap Shot.

Magic night

Last night, on a rooftop deck overlooking Manhattan, family and friends celebrated my mother's 80th birthday.

Although flawed, this video footage of a song sung by lifelong friends Mary and Jon Fromer, paints a picture of the night far better than I ever could. Even in the dark, I think you'll see clearly what I mean.


Happy Birthday Ann, by Jon Fromer

Happy birthday Ann, you've got so many friends
Happy birthday Ann, let the party never end
Happy birthday Ann, you're older than you've ever been
But you're younger than you'll ever be again

Give Ann an audience and she'll give you a play
Give her a cast and she'll help them find their way
Give her a drama and it better have something to say
Give her the world and we'll see a brighter day

She raised three kids, a daughter and two sons
She raised three kids, it was wild and it was fun
All of them are brilliant and wacky as they come
Three kids and we love them every one

For 80 years you've stood up for the poor
80 years you've called for an end to war
80 years, may there be so many more
80 years, we're so glad that you got born

Happy birthday Ann, you've got so many friends
Happy birthday Ann, let the party never end
Happy birthday Ann, you're older than you've ever been
But you're younger than you'll ever be again

Creation

Though this is not exactly it, I've recently had visions of my dream house. Something Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired--windows all around, fire places, Persian rugs, big kitchen and a studio in the back. A gathering place, a sanctuary, music is always on and something's always on the stove. Hot tub and garden, a deck overlooking mountains and ocean.

New blog

No thrills, no frills, just a place to hang the pictures.

Snap Shot can also be found in the links section.

Learning libra

Bruce Orion delivers Annie an extensive and intuitive reading of her astrology chart.

Cosmic error

I was supposed to be music.

In real time

Annie: "Do you think Honey knows how adorable she is and the power she has over people?"

Bath toy

Joke by Annie

Q: What do you call a vain target?

A: Self-centered.

Scent of a woman

I've always liked the idea of having a favorite perfume, but although I've tried various things over the years, I tend to find most fragrances off-putting, mediocre at best.

But all that changed when Annie and I stopped in at Barney's and began sampling the bottles at the "Fresh" counter, and I ended up spending $75 to smell like apricots and figs.

Yum.

Sitting at the sidebar

I love Stanley Turrentine, but when Sugar is played just for me, there's nothing sweeter.

Happy birthday Mom!

Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!

(Now let's party.)

Sitting at the sidebar

For her.

Happy Father's Day

Evolving 101

Yesterday I sat on my bed and cried, and Annie came in and began stroking my face.

"Did someone hurt your feelings?" she whispered.

"It's not someone," I replied. "It's me."

"What about you?" she asked.

"I have the habit of abandoning myself," I said. "And I should never do that."

In the past three years, I've gone from sleeping through life to living so wide awake that I long for the silence. I've created meaning where there is none and ignored meaning where it is. I've faced the story of the little girl whose father loved her but spent most of his time behind a closed door. I've moved closer to my enlightened self, at the same time repeatedly punished the demanding and lonely child who, inside a 44-year-old woman, still comes apart at the seams when she doesn't get her way.

My friend Bruce said he once felt that rather than face the truth, he'd prefer to die with his illusions intact. I understood this but unlike him, I'm still holding to mine for dear life. I am wedded to my ideas of how it should be, and attached to believing there's actually something outside myself that will finally bring me home. I'm addicted to love songs and fantasy because real life falls short, and I cling to a man I can't have, because if I could turn him into a reality, it might mean the death of my last illusion.

I often ask myself, When will I have enlightenment? When will I have freedom? Do I just have to think hard enough, pray long enough, meditate deeply enough? The truth is, I know the answer and I don't like it.

I don't have to sit on a mountaintop, I don't have to chant or change my diet, because it's all here now, in my breath, in my touch, in me--direct access to wisdom and grace, I am Divine.

So now what? Now what?

Easy to read

A few days before my friend Bruce came to visit, I was browsing the shelves in a bookstore. I read the back cover of one book, and although it didn't strike my fancy, I immediately thought it was something Bruce would love. I entertained the idea of buying it for him, but I knew he'd have plenty of reading material when he arrived. I left the book and bought something else for myself.

Days later when Bruce was in my apartment, he said he was bored by what he was reading. I told him about the book I'd seen, the only problem was I couldn't remember its title or author. We drove to the bookstore in hopes I could retrace my steps and locate the book I was so certain he'd want, but after combing the shelves, I came up empty-handed. Just as I ended the search, Bruce approached me.

"I want to show you something," he said, and I followed him to a shelf where he picked up a paperback and handed it to me. "I read this a couple of years ago and I absolutely loved it."

I looked at the book and then at him, and a big smile spread across my face.

"You're kidding me," he said.

The Orion experience

In the last 72 hours, my friend Bruce and I watched a lightening storm over the river, hunted (and found) lost treasure in the rain, viewed metaphysical art at the Chapel of Sacred Mirrors, drank Mojitos at Azucar, stayed up late singing Beatles songs, and attended a 5th grade party in the park.

Acceptance

Katie: "Hello?"

David: "I have a headache."

Katie: "I'm sorry."

David: "I probably have a brain tumor."

Katie: "Probably."

David: "I might be dead by tonight."

Katie: "OK."

David: "Bye."

Katie: "Bye."

Good humor

The other night, I plugged my headphones into the gym's Elliptical Trainer and watched an episode of South Park as I worked out. I started laughing so hard that tears were running down my face, so to avoid further embarrassment I changed the channel. I then watched a boring show about an English nanny who fixed broken families, but I kept on thinking about South Park and I kept on laughing.

How hot is it?

In preparation for his trip to New York, my friend Bruce asked me about the weather.

"It's the kind of heat," I said, "that when you step outside all you can say is "Fuck."

"When I lived on the east coast," Bruce recalled, "there were nights so hot, I'd take a shower, wrap myself in a sheet, get on the bed and pray I'd fall asleep before the sheet dried.

Too darn hot

In real time

When it's 90 on the east coast, there's nothing better than ice cream and no place like home.