“You’re a frog in slowly heating water”my son told me the other day. It’s an apt analogy. I find myself impressed when Kris can pull a pillowcase off a pillow in a matter of seconds or when Mac easily removes a plastic wrapper in one deft movement. It’s like I can’t remember that I could do these things and more just less than a year ago. These are now challenging tasks for me but I never seem to get angry. Well, there was that one time when I really wanted some wine and I had a wee melt down when I couldn’t open the screw cap, but that was made all better when I discovered tiny juice box-sized wine at Lucky’s. Even at Lucky’s it’s weird when the chick in the wheelchair jubilantly shouts “Yay! Wine-in-a-BOX!” Yes, I'm a frog. Guess that explains my eagerness to get kissed. I am waiting for that one kiss that will transform me from frog back to the woman who did headstands.
A brief digression: I’m on my deck and two young men are having a heated altercation on the street. One of them just said “ Ah’m gonna SHIT on your balls, dude!” To which the other guy replied “Hey woah….woah!”
Call me old fashioned but I think it’s far more efficient to kick the crap out of someone or punch them into a new time zone or call them an arugula-eating elitist since none of these involve dropping your pants or relying on impeccably timed bodily functions. I am sorely tempted to point this out to them. I love living on a relatively hopping street. It ain’t New York, but there is action.
I had a day out on Thursday. Took the bus to Berkeley where I met my friend Gerry for a movie. I like getting out on the bus and I like all the fascinating people I meet. Got into a detailed conversation with a guy from India, implausibly named Jim, a crazy woman in a wheelchair (no, I wasn’t talking to myself) and finally the bus driver on the way home. She was admiring my butterfly tattoo and told me she wanted to get one herself with her son’s name inside the butterfly. He had died 4 years ago. I don’t know what possessed me to do this but I just knew it was what she wanted to hear so I told her I had a fatal illness and that I didn’t know if I believed in an afterlife, but if there was one, I would look her son up. She started to cry and clutch her heart and said “thank you” and “god bless you” over and over. “His name is Damion,” she told me. “Look at me, I can’t stop crying – we was meant to meet.” We both put our hands over our hearts and I got teary while she full on cried. I don’t know why I told her about my illness and why I suggested something I don’t think is possible. I just knew it was the right thing to do as weird as it sounds.
Two days in a row I’ve fallen backwards. This is worse than falling forwards because of the lack of control coupled with no visual warning about what you’ll hit. I hit soft carpet and found myself chuckling at the falls because although it scares me a bit, the comic element of the backwards fall cannot be ignored. I have got to keep finding the funny in all of this.
Speaking of funny, the ass-picture auction has ended. We made some good money for a small amount of effort ( and sadly, a small ass). Thanks to Wendy and Edith for making it happen!
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8 comments:
You continue to enlighten and amuse.
I know what you mean about the shrinking sense of what you can do but it took much longer to come on for me. I spent years still thinking I could do what was no longer healthy for me to attempt. Sometimes I still overdo it and pay the price for days or weeks. Other times I know I can't do it and when I see someone pick up a duffle bag or heavy suitcase, I wince thinking of the pain it would cause me. I have to remember that it doesn't cause *them* that pain.
I hope you don't fall anymore but if you fall, I wish you soft landings and someone to YouTube it and 1000s of comments telling you you are the new Buster Keaton!
I was leaking tears all morning, a slow steady leak, who knows why, maybe because of my period, maybe because of the bitter-sweet start of pre-school for my 3 year-old , maybe because my friend is dying and is already taking requests for people to "look up" when she gets to the afterlife.
I was in an antique store looking for an old phone. The place was wretched with the melancholy of "days gone by". Here was an old Barbie camper, here was a Beatles poster with fold marks, here was an old cheerful apron with a single grease stain.
Suddenly I remembered that today is the 15 year anniversary of the day my father died. I had totally forgotten. When he first died, I could never conceive that I would one day forget, but life has gone right on.
Today, like every day, I think about your situation and then I think about this stinking play (with the theme of "learning to appreciate life") which I'm supposed to be re-writing and I just hope I can do the theme justice.
Julian ( my 3 year-old) has been asking me about death lately. "Is Daddy going to die? Am I going to Die? Is Colette going to die?"
"Yes, but not for a LONG LONG time" I tell him.
"I going a miss Daddy when he die." Julian says.
On Sunday I said, "Thank god it's a holiday weekend and we still have one more day with Daddy?"
Julian asked, "Then what happen? Then he going a die?"
We laughed. "Not yet." We told him.
But, underneath it all there is a sweetness to this morbid preoccupation. It's keeping us in the moment.
And all this rambling is just my way of saying that I am thinking about you and by thinking of you I am reminded to keep on loving my life.
Kim
Funny how you are infusing all of us with a deeper sense of our writing. I'm trying to get through a new screenplay and I want it to express how somewhere out there, and here, we're all living and dying every minute of each day and our efforts to keep walking through the desert and find a city of refuge are both real and futile. Brave and foolish. Effortless and difficult. Superhuman and human. Wonderful and horrible. Minute to minute. And eternal. So now I feel connected to you and this blog in a way I never would have had you not been writing it. I would never have been inspired to finish this screenplay. And that play. And some story begun 20 years ago. So again, thank you. Your wave is becoming a tsunami over your readers sweeping us away, into a better world. Joanna
Oh my gawd, I about died laughing! Sprayed my computer even... Thank you! I needed a good one today and that really takes the cake!
I want to live in your neighborhood! Nothing interesting ever happens in mine. I miss the sounds of people living - outrageous ones and all!
I think I would have shit my pants hearing someone say "I am going to shit on your balls, dude!" I don't know what that means unless it is taken iterally....
Wonder what he was thinking?
Carla,
Where would I be without your blog to lift my day. I laugh, I cry, but most of all I admire you more than you will ever know. You can't even imagine what you bring to people with your writing. Again,I hope there is a book deal in the works.
Love, Pat
dammit! where's our update!? :)
Kim
I kissed a prince and he turned out to be a frog.
I wish I were a better writer so that I could come up with some amusing or deep metaphor about life.. your situation.. my situation, but Im not. I have been reading your blog, and am amazed at how well you are taking all of this. I am so sad and think life just really sucks sometimes. I just want you to know how much you mean to me and how much you changed my life. I never would have gotten so into theater if it weren't for you. You always made me feel special and talented... were never easy on me, but that always meant to me that you care. Thank you for caring. You will always be my mentor for theater and acting. I have so many fond memories, some happy some sad, but I wouldnt trade any of our experiences for any amount of money, corny I know but true. I remember when you laughed at me for being the first person you've ever seen yell at themselves.... I am crazy you know, it fits. I want to see you soon, if theres any way I can do this around my ridiculous schedule I will make it work. I love you Carla, be well.
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