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Saturday at the office I've come to my office, and I'm not sure why. Oh, yeah, I don't feel like walking across town 3 more times today, so I'm just staying 'til rehearsal. I don't think I can log most of the time, as what I'm doing really isn't work. Let us sing the praises of Susan: Susan is a very dear friend of mine. She's a writer. She's been there, done that. Apart from the fact that her mother's here, I have absolutely no clue why she's in this state at all. She should be back in D.C. writing awesome things and getting lots of public renown. Instead, she's up here living in her gorgeous little house, waiting for her book to be released after it comes back from the printers' in Italy, taking her ex-husband to the doctor, waxing wistful over love, having dinner with her mother, and every week or so, having lunch with me. We used to have lunch together every Tuesday, then I decided to go running around the country being a musician, so we stopped, and now that I've been back for awhile and started to settle into a different schedule, we've reconnected. The week of my birthday, I brought her a mix tape of what I thought were the most appropriate songs of Tom Waits for her, 'cause she wanted to hear some of his material. (If you'd like to make your own copy of this mix, the track listing was: New Coat of Paint, Picking Up after You, Way Down in the Hole (Big Time version), Rain Dogs, Red Shoes by the Drugstore, Burma-Shave, Jersey Girl, San Diego Serenade, Little Boy Blue, Hold On, Jockey Full of Bourbon, Who Are You, Soldier's Things, Ol' '55, The One That Got Away, Tom Traubert's Blues (Four Sheets to the Wind in Copenhagen), Time, Ruby's Arms.) She bought me lunch for my birthday (Indian buffet...yummy), and then this week, she brought me a camembert cheese. She knows me well. She takes great delight in teaching journalism. She possesses one of my favourite pianos to play in the world (the other is at the Palace Theatre in Manchester, NH), and she enjoys when I come to play it. (Despite relative disuse, it is always remarkably in-tune.) She wants and deserves a man who will treat her well. (Unfortunately, most men are clods, so there's not a very good chance of this, I fear. She's a good friend, so I can't really think of her in those terms...More like an older sister.) Yes, Susan is great and wonderful and smart and fascinating and even pretty, and I am exceeding proud to call her a friend. I've realised that while I want to knock off 10 lbs., that may not be the best option, as muscle appears in the process of burning off fat and is heavier than the fat was, though denser. Perhaps tightly put together at 165 would be a little too thin, given my height. In any case, I enjoy this newly-rediscovered habit of exercising in the morning. It makes me feel better throughout the day and means I don't have to do as much vocalising to make my voice work in the morning. These are good things, indeed. There is such a wealth of possibility: Wet streets have faced me for days, and I swim in their strange slick beauty as I walk them. Anyone could be anywhere, so it could happen anytime. Which way are you looking? Last night, as morning approached, was fraught with strange dreams, money-making schemes; I think it was the television. I've resumed the old habit of falling asleep on the couch; somehow, it's less lonely to wake up alone there. The sun has broken the greyness; it's almost white outside, behind me, in contrast to the deeply-shadowed amber of the sun light fading in the picture taken out the window of my room in the Hotel Tolbiac in Paris several years ago which is at my left. And that line, it's from a song, though I can't remember which one or who sings it ("Somebody's got to hear this.") continues to reverberate in my brain. I guess I've got to figure out who it is so it'll stop. (A few weeks ago, it was "Super-paranoid," which I scanned my CD collection and realised was from Jewel's "Barcelona." She gets me with the simplest things; lately, it's been that line from "Standing Still": "Who will love me like I love you?") I am saddened by the passing of George Harrison. I have memories before the time of John Lennon's death, though I can't remember it specifically. (Likewise, I can't remember Elvis Presley's passing, and I was deeply conscious of music at the time, so that can't be the reason.) So yesterday morning, I sat down and played "Ticket to Ride" softly, then listened to the Beatles before going to work, and now, it's "I've Got My Mind Set on You." What a great song! He will be missed. To party or not to party tonight...? Maybe I'll just go see Melissa Ferrick. 'Til next time... r
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