iThink

When riding the New york City subway, it's easier to maintain your love for humanity when you don't forget to bring your iPod.

Pick-up line

As I was walking down the street today, a man standing on the corner called out to me.

"Excuse me, Miss! You dropped something!"

I looked behind me but there was nothing there.

"You dropped something!" he repeated. I looked back again but still saw nothing.

"What did I drop?" I asked.

He smiled. "You dropped my heart!"

Yee haw!

Currently editing "The A List: Dallas" on Logo. Tough job, but Someone's gotta do it!

Unsolicited advice from a grown-ass woman

Don't be with a man who refers to himself as a kid.

Don't be with a man one day longer than the day you look in the mirror and see that your radiance is gone.

Do remember the beauty and sweet moments you shared with a man who came into your life and touched your heart.

In my dreams

Last night I dreamed I watched my daughter standing high up on two blocks, smiling; transformed into a beautiful black woman. A black man approached her from below and behind, and he flirtatiously touched her hand. I thought she would be upset because he was a grown man and underneath her temporary exterior, she was just a little girl, but she turned and smiled at him. The mood changed quickly when he told her it was a Jewish holiday, and that on such a day she was dishonoring her heritage by standing on the blocks. She looked startled, as if she'd done something wrong, and I was surprised to see her reaction, and how quickly she stepped back down on the ground and turned back into her white girl-child self.

All you need

Sometimes all you need is to have someone in your life to care for, a daughter sleeping soundly in the next room, and to know that you've already packed your lunch for the day and that it's all ready to go.

Hold

After fixing her hair and emptying a new bottle of hairspray-after the breakfast and the flowers and the friends and the family, it was just she and I alone. The sunlight through the windows landed on the sofa where we both lay quiet, and when she fell asleep, I watched her long body, her big girl, her young woman-my one and only beloved child. I watched the ringlets in her hair, that with a supply of chemicals and a scalding hot iron, we so painstakingly made together; they somehow looked resigned now, draped across her shoulder.

I watched her poorly painted toes and her perfect pink nails, and when she stirred I snuggled up behind her the way I used to when she was born. Only now our bodies together were a variation of the way they once were. Back-to-back we slept when she was new, and back then, each time I woke and rolled over, I couldn't believe the gift waiting there for me, again.

This morning, as she rested her long legs and her feet sore from high heels, I pressed my mouth against the pale skin on her neck and breathed in. But all I could smell was hairspray, and I smiled at the recollection of only a few short hours ago, when I treated each curl just hoping they would hold.

I tried again to find her scent but couldn't, and as we lay together in the heat, under the click and swoosh of the ceiling fan, I whispered, "You're my favorite person."

"You, too," she whispered her reply with ease, then lifted her hand to rest it on mine.

I didn't love you better back then, I thought to myself. But I miss holding you in my arms. You weren't more beautiful than you are right now, but I miss freely kissing your face. I wasn't happier when you were small, I just long to sing to you like I did-and watch your eyes close, and see your hands the moment you slip into sleep, and smell your sweet baby skin, and believe that time will stand as still as those perfect curls we so painstakingly, and so joyfully made together.

I know what love is

I know what it looks like, tastes like, and feels like. I know what it isn't and what it is, what it can and cannot fix. I know what love should never be, and can be; I know the difference when it's false and forced from when it's real, and makes as much sense as blueberry jam on toast.

Hello & goodbye

For no reason at all, I am awake at 5:00 am. The light outside is mysterious without weight, the privacy an unforgettable gift. And though with the sun's quick rising comes something new, so does begin the end of a perfect morning moment.

Morning

Woke to clenched teeth, a break in heat, and dreams of the Snowy Owl.

The return

Years ago, when I was broken hearted, not because he didn't love me, but because he did, I could never have imagined where all that heartache would lead. Inevitably, it lead me to a place I return to each time life is unkind. It's a place where I'm again reminded what it's like to be free, to laugh hard, to give without hesitation, and to love without conditions. It's a place where I speak a language only he understands, and where the colors he paints with are also the colors I use.

I may never be with him again, the one who christened me Little Tornado, but because of him I know the woman inside that I'm still trying to get back to. And whether or not he holds my hand again, or smiles at me while we cross the street, I will forever know the place of beauty and peace, of coolness and heat, that place in me I return to long after everyone else has gone home.

Yeah

Life after love (after love, after love...)

You can meet a man five years older than you, exchange vows in Central Park, then say goodbye after a lifetime together. You can meet a man nine years older with whom you've never known such adoration and acceptance, but who has commitments and priorities that don't include you. You can meet a man ten years younger who travels across the earth to be in your company, and then two years later he's not even your friend. You can meet a man your age who swears he will protect your heart, and then discover that while you were believing in him, he was telling you lies. You can meet a man half your age who makes you laugh, wants only to be good, and who doesn't promise a thing so there can be no promises broken--and one day he might decide to give all that sweetness he gives to you... to someone else. You can meet a man, but the truth is, his age won't matter, because he will either love you right and love you long, or you will simply (but not so simply) be with him until the day you are not with him anymore.

His touch doesn't make the earth stand still-
It makes it keep spinning.
I don't feel dizzy,
I feel the ground solid-
Under me,
In me,
Holding me,
Without holding me.

Quote

I don't like videos of videos.

Kerry MacNeil

Thoughts in real time

Lots of Mother's Day sweetness with some sour in the mix.

My daughter is both a gentle lamb and an untamed filly.

Craving fish and white rice.

He likes the way I say lemons...

... and I like him.

Happy mother's day

Thoughts in real time

Gray outside, bright inside.

Buy more coffee later.

It's so nice to be reminded how consistently kind and respectful (and sexy) a real man can be.

Put on Pandora.

Find new music.

Keep your eyes are wide open, Girl.

Happy birthday, Gary Regina!

My favorite musician, the composer of my film, "Cold Tea," and one of the best men I know.

Quote

Happiness is not ready made, it comes from your own actions.

~Dalai Lama

The "L" word

"L" was for "Love," then "L" stood for "Liar;" now, "L" is for Lucky, that I ("L" is for) Left.

Upon waking

Spring on my skin, and the day is mine.

Small things come in big packages

I once knew a man who gave my daughter two small birthday presents, but he wrapped them together in a deceivingly large box. I thought it odd that he didn't want to find a box that reflected the true size of the gift, but then I thought, This is a perfect metaphor for who he is: A big package with the expectation of something big inside, but when you open it, there's just not much there.

Bits & pieces

I made a 9-minute film and published a six-word memoir, so it only seems fitting that I should direct a 15-minute play.

You can purchase tickets here for the American Globe Theatre's 17th Annual 15-Minute Play Festival (April 28th performance), and then come hang out with me, the writer and the cast after the show.

Fun!

Picture perfect days

Two years ago today, I took a picture of the man I loved as he lay sleeping on a hotel room bed. And it seemed so silly then, to take a picture while he slept, but I think I knew it would be the last time for us together like that.

I look at the picture now, and the light coming through the bathroom door reminds me. The bottle of water on the nightstand reminds me, and his worn white t-shirt reminds me; of the passionate and peaceful, easy way we were, like brand new lovers who had known each other for years. And all of those things remind me of what I must never compromise again.

I still have his voice saved on my phone, recorded two years ago this week, and every so often since then, I listen to the message again.

"Hi, Baby," he says so tenderly. "I just wanted to welcome you home. I hope you had good a flight. I miss you already, and I just wanted to say... I had the best three days of my life."

I'm not heartbroken by him, I'm heart fixed by him. I was more accepted, respected, and cared for in those three days than I have been by any man in the last five years, some of the deepest moments between us existing in silence in a noisy room. And I don't need a picture to remind me of what love is, but I'm so glad I have a picture to remind me of what love is.

My town

Although I was born here, I can still find myself walking down the street on a cold spring night, looking up in awe at all the lights and thinking, I can't believe I live here. I can't believe I live in New York City.

In my dreams

Last night I dreamed I went on a blind date, and when I arrived to meet the man, he turned out to be a four year-old boy. His mother and father were also there; I liked them very much and spoke to them most of the night. Later, his parents paid the bill and left early, and for the first time in the evening, I sat down with my date at a table for two.

"Listen," I said. "I don't think this is going to work out." (The boy looked as if he'd heard these words many times before). "I mean... you're not really that tall... and I'm super tall, you know what I mean?"

My date had a pained look on his face.

"But my mom had to pay for this," he said, and I got the feeling this wasn't the first date his mom paid for.

"You're right," I replied, "I didn't think of that; I should have chipped in."

There was silence. "Listen," I said, "If it makes you feel any better, I have every intention of sending your mother a nice bouquet of flowers tomorrow."

Suddenly my date eased up, as if everything wrong was now made right.

From A to Z's

I once had a lover who, in the beginning of our relationship, when I would wake up in the middle of the night, would wrap his arms around me and whisper, "Are you OK, Baby?" Toward the end of our relationship, when I would wake up in the middle of the night, he would express his irritation, accuse me of being a light sleeper, and move to the opposite side of the bed.

From here to wear

At first glance, a documentary about fashion and fashion photography, well, I couldn’t think of two things I was less interested in. But from the minute Bill Cunningham New York began, I was hooked. A film about a man obsessed with taking pictures of hats, legs and shoes, I would soon learn, had almost nothing to do with fashion, and everything to do with history, heartbreak and art.

The world of fashion strikes me as an ugly place, filled with beautiful, ugly people, and Bill Cunningham, although considered by his peers, “The most important person in the world,” is quite alone in that world, and in the world at large.

Cunningham has little need for fabulous as I see it, because he is a true artist. His art is the kind where youth, society and commerce may have a strong presence, but have little importance.

Clothes can enhance your beauty and clothes can mask your fear, but they cannot, and they do not make the man. Just look at Cunningham, 80, in the same shirt, slacks and worn blue coat, shining like a quasar in a galaxy of stars.

Bill is a rare and lone bird, hovering over the hard edges and straight lines of a tightly stitched industry, pulling poetry from the stage and the streets, pasting together the society girl and the ghetto boy, creating a collage of the human experience.

Design alone does not make art, nor is there beauty in numbers, lunches, and a list of Who's Who. Ideally, fashion is outerwear for the soul's innerwear, and a woman can't expand her heart by putting on the right dress.

But Cunningham embodies expansion; he does not swim with the sharks in shallow water--he lives on the bright side, and in the deep end. The divine and broken self, the artist; who takes colors off the runway and onto the walkway, with determination and grace, a vision of breathing streets, hats, legs and shoes; a vision of life.

Secret

I used to be so grateful when the email alert on my phone was from him... and now I'm just grateful when it's not.

In my dreams

Last night I dreamed I was standing with a young girl beside an aquatic display, and one of the things on the table was a sea anemone. The girl yanked it from its tank, tossed it to the side, and made a careless joke. Then I picked it up and looked at its underbelly.

"It's alive," you know? I said to the girl, and she gave me a stunned look.

"No it's not," she replied curtly, but when I put it back into the tank, it quickly buried itself into the sand. I looked at the girl again who realized her mistake.

I said, "A sea anemone is not your enemy, see?"

Pretty words

A guy who says he'll give you everything he has, is usually the guy who has nothing to give.

In my dreams

Last night I dreamed of melting plastic.

Happy Birthday!

Today, At the Half Note turns five!

May 25th, 1932-February 16th, 1996

"You can't reach my age without learning a few things. I know by long and bitter experience that it's almost impossible to keep two bars of soap in the same soap dish. There must be something else, but it doesn't come to mind."

~Roger Bowen

Quote

Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren't.

~Margaret Thatcher

I like that

I like that I can wake up in the middle of the night and play online Scrabble if I want to. I like that I can go to dinner with my ex-husband and our child, then stop at a chocolate shop for treats. I like being able to cook a meal, order take-out, or eat nothing at all. I like clicking my mouse, washing dishes without gloves, and wearing my hair up. I like writing a book, and I like facebook. I like that I no longer doubt the importance of the role I play in my daughter's life. I like that my body is at ease, and my breath is not held, and I like that the only surprises occurring these days are the ones that feel good. I like that I'm surrounded by people with strong minds and gentle hearts, and I like that this is the only reality in which I will ever live again. I like that when the day comes to chose someone to walk beside, I know I'll chose a man who speaks my language; who is imperfect, but whose life will meld with mine. I like that I'm certain he won't be in disguise the way he's been so many times before, because for the first time, my eyes are wide open... and I like that; I like that most of all.

Quote

Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.

~Carl Jung

Phone pas

When I woke up this morning, I checked the weather on my Droid and it said 70 degrees! I was perplexed, excited, delirious, in fact; I couldn't wait to go outside! Then I noticed the displayed city on the screen. For some reason my Droid thought it was in Cupertino, California.

Sometimes I wonder

Where did I go, and when will I return; was I ever the woman I thought I was, or is this who I've always been? Is this who I am?

Journal entry, March 1999

Dear Annie,

Tonight as you lay asleep in your crib, I am missing you. It's a familiar feeling, the feeling that I can never have you enough. Like loving a great piece of art or a perfect jazz tune, I am moved in a way that makes me want to fly, but I can’t. And because my love makes me want to fly but I can’t, I am forced to slow down, come down, push aside something too big to fit in my brain and body.

But my heart, it expands every day that you are with me. It can burst, shine and breathe, and hold you at the same time. It can carry all the love I have for you from before I was born, and forward a thousand years. And yes, with you perched safely on its wings, it can even fly.

Middle man

I used to like the good guys, then I liked the bad boys, and now... I prefer something in between.

Snow

Click here for a few photos from my walk through Central Park.

Red flags

How do know that when a red flag flies, you didn't hoist it yourself without even knowing? How can you trust that the feeling in your gut is your faithful alarm, set to go off when you walk the wrong way? How can you be certain, when you hear your own voice, that the sound of suspicion is really just that, or if it's fear and confusion, because you stopped listening to yourself for so long that you just can't tell anything anymore?

Back by popular demand

For some creative, mindless fun, visit my newly resurrected blog, Wordification.

Sitting at the sidebar

Beethoven's Piano Sonata # 25 in G, Op. 79, performed by Alfred Brendel... beautiful.

In real time

Home today, coffee brews--big 'ol snowflakes fall outside my window.

Looking forward...

... to what's coming next...

Look closely...

This car has my name written all over it.