I must admit, I felt sad passing the Blue Note. Only five days before I was inside its doors, joyful, hopeful and filled with anticipation.





Dinner outside at an old favortie, Cafe Figaro.

Sophia Says and I Agree:

"Sex is like washing your face - just something you do because you have to. Sex without love is absolutely ridiculous. Sex follows love, it never precedes it."

--Sophia Loren

Quote

“There is a road from the eye to heart that does not go through the intellect.”

--G. K. Chesterton

Anne Frank, Born June 12, 1929

Wild Horses of North Carolina

One of my goals this year is to get Oakley comfortable in the water. There's a beautiful beach on the Jersey Shore that's open year-round to horses and I can't wait to get there.

Sunday Night

David and I lie on our bed, I read to him passages from a Seth book.

Me: "What's a probability cluster?"

Dave: "It's made of peanuts and it's really good with chocolate on it."

A Real Estate

I wish I had taken photos of all the places I'd ever lived. Every room, every closet, every garden.

Here's a picture my mother took of the dining room of the place I shared with Aaron on Broadway Street in Santa Cruz. It also had a big living room with a fireplace, French doors, a walk-in closet that we actually put a bed in and that comfortably housed overnight guests, a bedroom, a sun room, a deco kitchen with pantry, a back yard and a front porch. I think we paid around $475 a month.

Think the rent has gone up?

Click to see large.

Secret...

Annie is going to sleep-away horseback riding camp for 3 weeks in July...and I, the horsewoman, am terrified.

Friday Night

I just said goodbye to Lisa. She was here for a few days from L.A. and now she's headed home. We spent all of today in the apartment; made sandwiches, went out for coffee, folded laundry, lay on the bed and literally talked for hours. We talked about the past, old boyfriends, and how seriously we took and felt about everything back then. We also realized that even in our 40s, our feelings are just as intense as ever.

Lisa makes a gesture, I give a look, and we break into the kind of laughter that has years inside it. We've been friends for 31 now and our stories could fill a book. When I'm with her I feel loved, accepted and protected, when I'm in need she is all mine. She is one of the brightest and wisest people I've ever known, and in the best sense, she is so very, very human.

She's only been gone an hour and I miss her already.


Lisa with her daughter, Allison, 1988



On the roof tonight, there's Lisa on the right.



Also on the roof tonight, the storm clouds were coming in and were just so beautiful. Click on them to see. (Goodnight David! see you tomorrow!)

Happy Birthday Les Paul

Sacrifice

Annie: "Mommy, did you know that I'd give up my goat and all of my toys for you?"

Me: "I'd give up everything for you too my love."

Annie: "I'd even give up YOU for you."

Running to You

Quote

“Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.”

--Sydney Smith

Thursday Afternoon

I always worried that I didn’t do it right with Annie, that I was too much of a child myself to be able to lend a hand in the raising of a well-adjusted young woman. I thought she would suffer, or at least be overwhelmed by my emotional intensity, but now I think she may turn out just fine. Better than fine.

Recently, Annie has started to reveal herself, that is, and for lack of a better metaphor, she has started to resemble a butterfly coming out of its cocoon. She is at ease, beautiful, independent, strong and unshakable. My sadness has been apparent the past two days, and I always heard that you’re not supposed to cry in front of your children, that it makes them nervous, makes them feel unsafe in the world. Annie seems to sense when I’m crying and she’ll come into my room, but with the opposite of fear or anxiety. She comes to me like an angel, smiling, still and serine; her eyes looking deep into mine with such loving compassion I forget that she is only 8. She takes the corner of her shirt and wipes my eyes and tells me that everything will be all right.

What a person she’s becoming, what a gift she is to the world, how fortunate I am to be her mother.

Rock Me to Sleep, by Jill Sobule

It's slightly unsatisfying to post just the lyrics of a loved song, because a song is not the same as a poem; it doesn't exist alone in its words. It calls for music and sometimes a voice, and without these elements it's just impossible to convey. Nonetheless, here is a sad and sweet song that I listen to when I'm in a sad and sweet place.

Imagine a tender voice and the gentle strum of an acoustic guitar, but please, don't imagine me crying.


Six in the morning
Been up since three
I wish I had somebody to rock me to sleep
The sun won't be melting these snowy white sheets
Wish I had somebody to rock me to sleep
Rock me to sleep
Rock me to sleep
Wish I had somebody to rock me to sleep

The book on the bedstand
The little TV
The drink and the ashtray
Keep watch over me
The long dark shadows of the sycamore tree
Wave and keep me company
Keep me company
Company
The long dark hands of the sycamore tree

Take me in your arms and hold me
Till I close my eyes
Till the streetlamps die
And the traffic rumbles

Rock me to sleep
Rock me to sleep
I wish I had my mother
I wish I had my father back
I wish I had my baby
I wish I had somebody to rock me to sleep

If You Forget Me, by Pablo Neruda

...If I look
At the crystal moon, at the red branch
Of the slow autumn at my window,
If I touch
Near the fire
The impalpable ash
Or the wrinkled body of the log,
Everything carries me to you,
As if everything that exists,
Aromas, light, metals,
Were little boats
That sail
Toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

...If little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
You forget me
Do not look for me,
For I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
The wind of banners
That passes through my life,
And you decide
To leave me at the shore
Of the heart where I have roots,
Remember
That on that day,
At that hour,
I shall lift my arms
And my roots will set off
To seek another land...

In Memory

Billy Preston

Secret...

When I was a child I used to stand in my backyard and howl at the moon...and I wasn't joking.

Listening to at the Moment ...

Think It's True?

Happy Birthday Tommy

When I was a teenager I worked a couple of summers at the Greek Theatre in Los Angeles. I have countless stories of my days there, from getting kissed by Freddie Mercury to helping Alice Cooper look for his missing snake backstage. I'll also never forget the night Tom Jones played. Women in the audience were screaming and tossing their underwear on stage, and my friends and I were repelled and perplexed. These were "Older" women after all, shouldn’t they be acting more like MOTHERS? In any case, at intermission my friend Justine and I were downstairs in the dressing area quietly making fun of Mr. Jones. Suddenly he passed us, his hairy chest reveled and covered in sweat. He smiled and said, "Hi girls!" We replied flirtatiously, "Hi Tom!" and then when he left we giggled and rolled our eyes and continued to put the poor man down.

Well, now I'm the same age as those women in the audience, and although I think my panties would stay on even in his presence, I want to make it up to him and wish him a very heartfelt, happy birthday.

Love Ya Tom!

Dave: "Why don't you put the play I had published on your blog?"
Me: "Because that was three years ago."
Dave: "You should promote your husband."
Katie: "I would, if it was something current, but it seems forced."
Dave: "Monique would put it on HER blog."
Me: "What's her blog called?"
David: "All About Dave."

Click Here for Excerpt

This is one of two published plays by David Kosh. It was also produced off-off Broadway as part of a series of his short plays titled, "I Love New York, What's Your Excuse?"

Hi Monique!

New Yorker Cartoon

Full Service Counter

"I can help the next person in the rear!"

--Yesterday when standing on line at a deli to buy a cup of coffee.

The Real McCoy

Last night was probably one of the most satisfying experiences in music I've ever had, and at least at the moment, I won't attempt to describe it in detail. The McCoy Tyner Septet played at The Blue Note in Greenwich Village to a sold out and very appreciative crowd. Classics from the Impulse Records’ catalog were performed—from Oliver Nelson’s “Stolen Moments,” & Charles Mingus’ “The Dancer,” to John Coltrane’s “Africa,” and “Resolution.”

Aside from listening to the unearthly sounds and talents of these mortal men, I also had the pleasure of spending about an hour before the show with Christian Scott, a young trumpet player from New Orleans who is making a name for himself in the jazz world. We talked outside the club; I was moved by his intelligence and sweetness. At 23 he has already had much success and I was so impressed by his humility and lack of pretension. (He is also the nephew of sax player Donald Harrison.) Inside the club, I spoke with jazz legend, Clark Terry. He sat in the audience, and I sat beside him for a bit. He put his arm around me and I told him he looked beautiful in his tan suit. Later in the evening he played his trumpet from his chair, McCoy on stage on piano, along with bass and drums.

When the show was over I walked the streets of the city and let the music settle in me. Then, of course, I took the "A" Train all the way home.

I took 5 pictures last night. Here they are...

Clark Terry
Tyner
Above, Wallace Roney. I thought it was beautiful how the musicians would just stand back and listen while a solo was being performed.

Donald Harrison, sax, Wallace Roney, trumpet, Dave Liebman, sax, Steve Turre, trombone; Eric Kamau Gravatt, drums; and Charnett Moffett on bass.

Christian Scott.

Happy Birthday to Three Great Patriots

Bill Moyers
Federico García Lorca
Pancho Villa

Who's Your Daddy?

Friday night:

Annie: "You're my favorite daddy. Out of all my daddies."

David: "Is there something Mommy's not telling me?"

Lovely Lyla

This is my friend Justine's daughter, Lyla. Look out world.

(Dad Vinnie in background.)

New Yorker Cartoon

Had to...

Me in the Mountains

Courtesy of Photoshop.

Meaning in Cleaning

Saturday was a rainy one; it was also David's first day of being gone every weekend in June for a metaphysical workshop of some sort. I ask Annie to help me clean the apartment and as usual, she gives me a hard time. She complains how awful her life is, how bored she is, and how I never let her do anything fun. After a rather expensive few days n the mountains, a trip I made for her, I become slightly irritated. I tell her if she refuses to help me around the house I’ll have to give her a punishment. Then, as usual, she bursts into tears. I let a few minutes pass then I ask her again to start her chores.

Annie: “My God! I don’t even have any space to express my emotions!"

She cries for a few more minutes.

Me: “Okay Annie, I think you’ve expressed your emotions long enough, it’s time to start cleaning.”

Annie: “Id rather vote for George BUSH than have you as a parent! You ruin my life.”

The voting for George Bush part is just too much; I'm forced to send her to her room for that.

About 15 minutes later I get a note under my bedroom door that reads, “What I want our house to be…Smiles, Happiness, Love.

I go into her room and I’m smiling. I say, “Here’s a smile so that means happiness, and we already have love so really, you have everything you want."

Annie: “I just wish you’d have a little empathy for me.”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Annie: “Do you know what empathy is?”

Me: “I do.”

Annie: “It means that you should try and put yourself in my shoes and feel how I feel.”

Me: “But I think you have a pretty good life. I don’t feel bad for you.”

Annie smiles, goes into the living room and happily starts cleaning.

Poolside Preaching

Annie is running, trying too desperately to beat her friend to the pool.

Me: "Annie, remember what Buddha says! Don't try to be first!"

Annie: "I don’t believe in Buddha! Except for the squeeky one on your desk!"

Quote

"In my reality there are no dead ends. Only scenic routes to unkown destinations."
--Katie Bowen

Secret...

I once had a boyfriend with a sailboat. I didn't love him anymore but I waited until after sailing season to leave him.

Blog Up ... Sort of

We returned from the mountains a day early and I'm a bit wiped out from the intense sun as well as the never ending but glorious energy of Annie and her girlfriend. They drove me crazy, but they also made me laugh. Hard.

I'll return to the blog full-force on Monday, xox

Happy Birthday Marilyn