Ok, that’s enough of that.
Third day of temperatures over 90 degrees in New York City. I’m inside with the air conditioning blasting, cats and dog sleeping. Working on songs started with my group at the Housing Works workshop.
My head is full of all the words, phrases, different from the carefully chosen, more the language of secrets from myself. The side stepping of logic and cliche. The mad search through impression and memory. The stumbling over ordinary in pursuit of a surprise. Three very simple words more profound. A little of this, a bit of that. A revision here, a breather there. Come back fresh. Discard or elaborate. Get distracted and draw flowers and a little female profile with curly hair and a ski slope nose.
Make another cup of coffee. Open the refrigerator, open the freezer. Cut up a peach and eat it. Check email. Check other email account. Check Facebook page. Answer text from Paul. Turn on the gear. Position the mic. Pick up the guitar. Sing softly into the microphone. Raise the guitar a little so it’s more in balance with the vocal. Press record. Sing it. Sing it again. Sing it again with the melody changed. Sing it again with the words changed. Sing it again. Sing it again. Sing it again. Press the pedal to stop record. Hit rewind. Listen back to 15 versions. Scribble down words I like, sung off the top of my head. Rewind. Repeat.
Kiss Bailey stretched out on the couch. Admire the new steel coffee table. Think about what else there is to eat in the house. Commit to not turning on the TV no matter what. Stretch. Look at the south-facing windows, the top parts still covered in Ivy. Admire the bottom parts, cleared of Ivy with a pair of scissors.
Think about the hospital. Awful there, but what a good hospital. Think about the doctor. “He’s single,” my mother says. Think about my father’s eyes just like my sister’s with eyelids just like mine. Think about the cold waiting room. Think about bursting from the lobby into the heat on 67th street.
Think about how I was blind because I wanted to be blind.
Think I will probably want to live somewhere else next year but don’t know where.
Look at real estate listings in Long Beach and near my parent’s house in Rockville Centre.
Answer phone. Speak to Jacqui for 10 minutes. She says guess who I saw in Amagansett yesterday. Here’s a hint. He’s an older actor and was wearing sunglasses. Jack Nicholson? I venture. Yes! He stepped outside to have a cigarette. Mona followed him. She said: Thank you for being you.
See Paul’s new text. Text back. Ask him if he wants to meet for Ethiopian food. He says yes. I say when? He says however long it takes. I’m leaving now.