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On an overcast day melancholy is sometimes all you can tap into unless you are Gomez and appreciate the dull greyness of it all. B told L that love is an act of choice, an act of will, it’s volitional. I disagree – there is some choice in there but I don’t think you can choose to love someone, I think that you are drawn there and you choose to stay with it if love gives you back what you desire.

There are 4000 people still missing in the city. The pelicans are back at the bayou, large with their gunmetal plumage and majestic beaks. We missed fall, my favorite time of year. S always claims I am a person with too much yearning and fall always makes me nostalgic and full of yearning, but we missed it in the 107 degree dry heat of Texas. So now too I missed my time for nostalgia and am not quite sure what to yearn for in this dull grey sky’d day.

S sent an angry response to my blog that I wouldn’t accept for post because he apologized right after sending it and I know it was sent in anger and it was ugly. He told me today he vacillates between anger for Nick and me, and tenderness for us. He has always had that depth – I see now he understands the complexities – that is what drew me to him many years ago. S is still uncertain about where he will plant himself for the next year and he still entertains staying in NO and working with N, but he’s not sure he can trust him. I recommended therapy. S asked what N was doing and I said working on his marriage.

I had my first therapy session with E on Saturday and tried to get her up to speed and at the end when we agreed we would continue seeing each other, she said, well, you are not boring that’s for sure. I told her that I had no intention of trying to change from being a caretaker – that I have a pleasing nature. She said the point of our talks would be to be more comfortable with that role and to learn to negotiate it with external relationships. She said a lot of couples fit together because one is a caretaker and one wants care, but when the caretaker becomes healthy, it disrupts the dynamic. The fact that I sought out N she found to be healthy because it shows that I am moving towards getting healthy, towards allowing someone to take care of me.

This afternoon I had a vivid dream that while I was sleeping N came over with Lilli in the car seat and put her down on the bed and sat down beside me and put his hand on my face. I felt the warmth of his skin. I woke up with my hand outstretched towards his face to tug on the red beard. I can’t bear waking up.

I asked E if I was nutty for continuing to communicate with N while he goes through marriage counseling, and she said well, you have a stake in him given the fact that his marriage might not work out, which would open possibilities. Her take on an affair is that it is a sign of something wrong in the marriage – and that no matter what I am not the cause of his marriage ending or he the cause of mine. But my work with E will be to find my own way here and not be reactive to his or anyone else’s outcome.

But what does a lover do with the slot in the heart reserved for the beloved, which is still so full of hope, desire, images, feelings, memories, longings, laughter, senses, adoration and love – how long can these be held in abeyance? Last night, J’s words – I am “a sensuous woman” – said he enjoyed rubbing my feet. Good grief. N said I should meet this other J, a stone fox, who she is going to see the bonfires with and I’m like good grief. Men – are we really talking about men here? Good grief. I am going to take the poison pill.

N emailed that his tribe is forgiving him and demonizing me, the mistress. I told him my tribe never believed in his marriage to begin with. Obviously mudslinging doesn’t do any of us any good, but I seem to be sitting on a mess of snakes right now – anger just crawling up at every turn where once there was general joie de vivre. I have a poison tongue and should not send missives that are filled with venom.

I think about a week ago today when I was packing my clothes to head to Charleston with the man I love and the man who loved me and I marvel at how different my life looks in a matter of only a few days. Kind of like Katrina – one day you are doing this, and the next you are doing that – and there is no transition – it’s just this then that.

N is going with his Marshall Plan – trying to rebuild or reconstruct. I have always seen such potential in him as a beautiful human being, I hope the lid is blown off for him so he can let all of those parts of him spring to life in a glorious race car in the red fashion.

I am going with the Rachel Plan – first up, therapy, second finish LaLa and have a home at least until the next evacuation, third up life decisions that follow through on what is missing from current life that will make my life more expansive – career, child, charity – and then pursued in a meaningful fashion. Elephants still roam my dreams.

I am trying to be a lion. Wonder woman. Kim Possible.

Right now I feel like I am a little sparrow – fluttering wings beating against darkness – heartbeats coming too quickly – no place to land – eyes wide open.

On Wednesday I returned from four days in Charleston with N to 24 hours of full disclosure that brought an end to the lying and deceit that has darkened my days. A banal email that remains a question mark sent without knowing what underpinned the simple words of introduction. People I love are hurt and angry as they should be. S said he is in shock and feels betrayed on every level and that now the city’s devastation truly reflects his inner being. V writes me questioning forethought on my part and whether there ever was a friendship to betray. I fall back on my lame apologetic sword because I have nothing good to offer up by way of apology nor do I have the promise that I can undo, make it all right, or hold back from it in any meaningful way.

The surreal quality of life that began with returning home, then leaving home, then returning home again all tangled up with losing love, finding love attached to a huge human price tag, confronting your demons, unleashing your demons, and having others demonize you has left me unmoored. My friends say I am holding up well, but then they call at odd hours and hear me sobbing so hard I cannot speak to them on the phone.

Today I heard in N’s email that the plan is to limit my exposure to W. On Wednesday, S waited for me at the Can when I returned from the airport and on my desk was the ripped in half birthday card he wrote me and a ripped photograph of W. Do people really feel the need to use a 6 year old boy to exact their pound of flesh? Does everyone believe that my love for W should be shut down because I am evil enough to have fallen in love with his father?

I am not trying to justify my ways to the world and I won’t fall back on merely feet of clay apologies. I did not operate with forethought as V suggests. I tried to enter the next phase of a long marriage and failed to make the next step. I tried to nip feelings for a friend, N – who I had long felt a strong link to – in the midst of a natural catastrophe and a birth unfolding and instead those feelings overcame rational sense of propriety, of right and wrong, of restraint – at every critical juncture of assessment and attempts to unwind and segment, those feelings exploded off the page forming their own assessment of how things should be, could be, instead of how they had been, are, were. Grace under pressure, perhaps not, but I don’t live inside a work of fiction.

I want a new year. I want those I have hurt to find solace. I want W in my life. I want N to flourish as a fully realized man wherever he decides to belong. I want my mother in a safe place. I want to wake up in New Orleans and know that she has a fighting chance to rebound. I want full disclosure – full feeling – full living instead of trying to invent a life of parts, trying to hide the sparkle in my eyes because of what it suggests, of muting my passion for those and that which sing to me, most of all I want to feel like I am living the best life I can under these extremely volatile times.

It’s an old cliche that sometimes getting away from the daily routine helps sharpen what has dulled. It’s a little weird being some place where restaurants and shops and people are going about their business without garbage in front, landlines muted, understaffed, understocked, and plain out shock and weariness prevailing. A long run yesterday by myself put me in the right mood but made me think about too many things that make me sad these days. I don’t cry about Katrina because in the end there were silver linings that I still think are yet to come totally to fruition. I cry every day over my 14 year marriage unwinding with no resolution – I think of the promise it began with and how we grew up together and then grew apart and instead of having any sort of contentment that it is what it is, I am saddened by the loss of it.

Then when I have these intense moments of happiness I feel a sense of guilt trailing the gladness as if its unfair to be happy right now given all the circumstances.

There is a skittishness that is under my skin which alternately makes me want to crawl into a ball or run like the wind.

Somebody last night said 10 years to rebuild New Orleans – I said 5 – we need the levys to be fixed before anyone is going to want to come back and rebuild. N said there are 70K people in town, I thought it was 100K. I dismiss all of this as speculative chatter since to finish LaLa takes hope and faith that it would remain safe in the face of another Katrina.

I tried to fix up my colleague T with S yesterday – he’s been intrigued by her photos for a long time – and while she said she is flattered, it is too soon after separating and she doesn’t want that hanging over anything so she declined politely. L said I have to try not to take care of S or anyone else for that matter.

Walking around the bayou this morning after playdate with L and dogs in tow, we happened upon the running couple, as we do most every morning. They are so Ward and June Cleaver perky that we both sneer after waving to them. He’s a public figure and he has the plastic smile of one. How can two people be any more stereo typed? I miss the nuns – where are they? Do they not walk in the cold or have they not returned since Katrina? The little lipstick applying school girls are back, slumping along to Cabrini, as if on the Bataan Death March.

News has come that the Parkway will reopen on the 17th with a party to celebrate. Thankfully – now with Terranova back and Degas and Lola, midcity is striving to make its comeback. But last night with the window open and my head out looking for stars, I couldn’t help but sigh looking out across the blackness that shadows most of this hood. And again I marveled that downtown is that way – why can I not locate myself geographically?

One column has been erected at the LaLa and it is purdy but B couldn’t find a beam as both places he went to are not in business post Katrina. Sigh. The tub and sinks and fixtures were ordered today after an interminable wait and an encounter with Ms. D – a bitch who tried to intimidate me but I wasn’t going for it so early in the morning and set her right on what I planned to do – which was not sit down like she was ordering me to do – she said I was making her nervous – I said, well I prefer to stand thank you kindly.

N writes that Renny rolled in a skunk and kitters was up all night puking down at the camp.

And in the meantime, my day has been hijacked by errands and annoying work interruptions that are unnecessary, really.

Houston’s to face the maddning crowd and John was behind the bar – he’s been there 20 years and I noticed in his demeanor, usually jolly, a faint hint of resignation to the life he has led. You’d think it would be contentment at having chosen a simple life. But no, I swear I saw “the quiet desperation” in his eyes.

Samson’s hair was cut off by Delilah’s treachery – makes you wonder why things can’t just stay the same at least for a solid set number of days. Always spinning.

L is off with P to the Ogden tonight to troll for chippies.

She said you’ve taken me for granted
Because I please you
(Paul Simon, Diamond on the Soles of Her Shoes, Graceland)

So K has ramrodded back onto the scene, wooing the Silver Fox, like a house on fire. And he asks me on the bayou this morning – How do you know? – and I said, let me put it this way, You know. Any doubt, hold your breath – no doubt, plunge. But he says, I’ve only spent 20 days with her, how could you know after 20 days? And I concede.

I am being deluged by friends’ emails telling me that many of their friends are splitting up this year – the year of the separation? – and to think they don’t have a natural disaster as a backdrop. What goes on? I ask for the umpteenth time.

My nieces are coming in for Hanukkah – yippee! Brother B is still living out of a FEMA trailer as he works on his house. Mom was offered a FEMA trailer but in the end declined it although her FEMA rep took a liking to her and asked her out for sushi the next night. L got $5K more dollars from FEMA even though he declined additional money when his rep called him. What goes on with FEMA? Good grief.

The porch is starting to come together – deck is down, brackets in for columns, and soon we might even have a facade. Hard to believe but once that is done I will be anxious to get in but still a ways to go to make that happen. Tomorrow S and I go to order tubs and sinks etc. Hoping the prices haven’t skyrocketed in the wake of Katrina but have been hearing horror stories.

How does a pleaser accept pleasure? Very carefully.

A moment of peace and quiet where I can sit in Nanc’s kitchen and go online and actually even get cell phone reception – a rare day. S found a sweet apartment in the Quarter on Dumaine and has set up office and home there. Meanwhile I’ve rearranged the can to meet my work specs. Now if only they would get internet there – 4-6 weeks has been the mantra. The city is up and down, sometimes seems to be making strides – like garbage pick up and then the next day you go without mail for four days in a row – so baby steps.

Got a missive from C today and probably the thing that stuck the most was her last line which said “let the people who love you take care of you” – now that is certainly something that I need to chew up and digest. In the meantime, getting ready to go on a getaway that is all about doing something for me that doesn’t involve seeing clients, family or taking care of someone else. So trying to put her advice and others into practice. I’m not going to change my stripes and suddenly not be a pleaser, but I can certainly make room for people who want to please me in my life.

K called yesterday and is calling back at 3 today to talk to me about how she can’t get L out of her mind despite having moved in with T and “being happy.” L has been going through existential angst that only seems remedied by the flirtation of a dalliance – which he seems to be getting an abundance of that with A and S in the wings.

I guess the thing to consider here is what now? Get the La La done is the highest agenda item, get mom into the Can is up there on high priority, and then start investigating moments of delight and joy that will lead me back to routine and work order. The heart has been stretched and stomped but it is resilient and just needs some massaging right now to get it pumping the correct doses of blood.

We’re having a cold snap right now and everyone seems to welcome it and be ready to say adios to the balmy – but the other day, overcast and around 80, was so deliciously wonderful that I say give me that. The smells are still rampant in some parts of the city. I was driving home from the gym in the 80 degrees the other day and was assaulted at one stop sign where a pile of trash had been sitting for months. Food is still hard to come by but Terranova opened this Monday and that brought cheers of Hallelujah back to the neighborhood. I went today and got some green onion sausage and told them repeatedly how great it is to see them again.

I welcome 2006 as S said, it can’t be worse than 2005, oh I guess it could be, but let’s hope it isn’t. Of course we will all be holding our breath as July approaches and the return of hurricane season.

While I’ve been away the Muse has been so forthcoming in insight and yet here I am now unable to recall or pen just one of those poignant thoughts.

Not being able to get online for any length of time makes it difficult to work on anything much less a blog. As the city continues to make baby steps forward, things like internet service grow scarcer. The fridge came yesterday, but the phones they say will take more than a month. Cable, forgetaboutit, the Can says probably end of December. But what colors my day is not that Mom’s house got broken into again by the deranged stalker who she says was looking for her gun, or that N immediately took care of boarding up her windows so now she is truly holed up there, or that it has been near impossible to work without distractions without being able to get online, no, I think it is ending a 15-year relationship and not even knowing where to begin to unravel a life so enmeshed that I can’t tell if that is his black turtleneck or mine?

The LaLa will be finished and I will live there. S is looking for an apt in the French Quarter – his plans are to stay here for a year and give his business a go. D and N have both said at separate times that he should go back to San Francisco but I know how he feels, when we left the first time in ’95 both of us felt like we didn’t have to go back there. Even though in ’96 the pull of EHDD was enough to hurl us back. Shades of years past – “I don’t want to go.” “I’m going with you or without you.”

L played this the other night – Shirley Horn:

WHERE DO YOU START?
Music by Johnny Mandel
Lyrics by Alan and Marilyn Bergman

Where do you start?
How do you separate the present from the past?
How do you deal with all the things you thought would last,
That didn’t last?
With bits of mem’ries scattered here and there,
I look around and don’t know where to start.

Which books are yours?
Which tapes and dreams belong to you and which are mine?
Our lives are tangled like the branches of a vine
That intertwine.
So many habits that we’ll have to break
And yesterdays we’ll have to take apart.

One day there’ll be a song or something in the air again,
To catch me by surprise and you’ll be there again.
A moment in
What might have been…

Where do you start?
Do you allow yourself a little time to cry,
Or do you close your eyes and kiss it all goodbye?
I guess you try.
And though I don’t know where
And don’t know when
I’ll find myself in love again,
I promise there will always be
A little place no one will see:
A tiny part deep in my heart
That stays in love with you.

B was in the paper today, front of the Living section looking dapper in his poet hat. I called N and they ran into Ponchatoula and bought every paper. Then I went for a walk with L and the dogs. L still processing the K denouement. I’m processing everything. We went to the M’s house last night for dinner and walked into a a strange atmosphere – so subdued there it felt as if everyone had gone to sleep. And actually S did fall asleep at the dinner table and then on the couch. I had a chance to read W some Lemony which is always enjoyable. We went to Pal’s when we got home. The crowd was pleasant and we proceeded to drink too much. S said he is depressed and I began to tell him about the elderly woman I talked to in line at Dorignac who told me she lost everything, said it took her a lifetime to accumulate all that and she wasn’t about to start over. Then she said the gumbo is good here and I said yes it is. The lines were so long you would have thought it was a holiday. He said no, I’m depressed about us. I said oh. Told him that after our last talk I felt that we had cleared the air and he said yes, but now what. He said I want it to work out. I said I agreed but I don’t know if it can. We’ve passed into a zombie stage of knowing that things cannot go on like this but now what? It’s so sad it is hard to contemplate.

Dinner with N and I told her about what S and I have been discussing – she said she is sad but understands – she said Rachel disappeared for a long time and she feels her back and that might be the problem.

Today was a productive day of clearing the yard and moving back to the Can. Back where our belongings are all neatly in cardboard boxes and our desk dominate the living and sleeping spaces. There was a feeling of comfort. But I think back to when Sue handed me the note when she was cleaning the house in Marin and I was on a conference call and the note said “I can find you no comfort” and I laughed and hugged her. Almost welped up. She wanted my duvet cover for the comforter on my bed. I on the other hand wanted comfort.

Last night N sent a note about the spec house and how it should be for people who don’t have the advantage of picking and choosing and not about profit. I’m anxious to put all of this to some purpose but S is paralyzed and overwhelmed. He said he needs time off – I told him to call C and go to Hawaii for down time between his SF trips. I need time to be alone – I feel like I’m grinding my teeth half the time and my jaws ache from it.

There are too many moving parts all leading to a sort of lunacy that never gets resolved. Two heavy nights of drinking in a row and tonight I’m nonplussed by the cures of alcohol. The Muse calls to me but doesn’t come to me and I feel stunned by my inability to get to the other side of any of what I want to know better.

Mom says everyone is stunned here and I agreed, people running redlights and walking around like the walking wounded but yet picking up the pieces and going on in the best way possible but some have no pieces and some have no places to put their pieces. So it’s a lot of making piles but not really moving forward – just sideways.

And through all of this murkiness I see possibilities.

Today a knock at the door and a call to action – the big trailer had arrived to haul the trash but one cell phone call away determined they were on the wrong street – no, the right street – we can’t live like this – the smell and the piles of trash – but indeed we are on the wrong street and the trailer left after we had all moved our cars and they went to Ursuiline which was what? in need more? not

N last night was caustic in her pov of me – Rachel disappeared for so long that I was getting used to her being gone – then now she’s back – but I’m sad N said for what it might mean for you and yours. I’m sad to N – it’s all not lining up in any neat package – and the garbage is upsetting as well as the fact that trying to find a structure to call home has been daunting when meanwhile you have the land that is home.

The Can is reopened albeit we don’t have a fridge because we confuse them with our wine fridge and they think we are okay. Wines bought at the Cork to support them. Dorignacs a zoo because where do you buy food these days? It’s so daunting.

At the Milan last night P gave us the story of C and T and she was hot for T but it was hit and miss and then Katrina hooked T up with B which she said in all good heartedness good for you and then they came back and there was C who was a smooth operator not to mention endowed – I fucked him, P said just matter of factly – then added – Of course. But then C went after B and T was left holding the trick bag. There was a debate on well endowed versus not and then someone brought up the curve – if that were in play – the curve is the great equalizer takes the “prettiest dick I’ve ever seen” (a quote) and pairs it to the rare curve and then everyone was listening very attentively to the conversation.