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Day before yesterday L told me I am the only woman he loves and trusts – this is after G reamed him out about K and K told him that T is calling her wanting her to meet him – she’s meeting him today for coffee and talk. She’s doing that because L said he would still date and possibly sleep with other women and yet he wants to see her once a month and maybe meet at the Peabody in Memphis. S IM’d the other day saying her nerves are gone about M and A being in the same room in Vegas. S has blisters on his feet from SF because he’s not used to wearing shoes. B called today to say the skeleton key is missing. And D this morning at playdate seemed insecure about whether or not S in fact might be speaking to someone else about his office needs. Mom has pens with her name on them. Listening this morning to N’s mini and must say most of the music is good – hard to believe.

Last day of detox and the melancholia is so thick you could cut it with a knife – let go of your attachments – what makes you happy?

what does that mean? it’s on the church marquee over on broad street. Something bizarre. Okay why is it that everyday seems like an enormous task just to take care of matters at hand? tomorrow instead of lunch at mom’s, she’s going to come here and go to Parkway with me – saves me the smoky room for two hours that I find toxic.

S is in SF this week and I had a lot of to do’s when S is gone lined up but thus far have only accomplished one of them, it’s an important one, involves the Muse and trying to work on this book that now seems to be overladen with foreshadowing and double entendres, what worries me are the triple entendres, but anyway, I’m really trying to keep it all simple but think it gets overly complicated for no good reason. I’m trying to conjure this Adele who is carved up but right now can’t seem to push her into the next scenario, is it one of disaster? wonder? nada?

There is some weird thing going on in my life where S keeps trying to get closer to my face – what is that? Then there is the whole ebb and flow thing where it is so unbelievably difficult to get ebb and flow together. I keep thinking of Bill Murray and that movie – does he have a kid or not and the way that bit of information changed every step forward – it’s ridiculous that women don’t have this kind of mystery in their lives – what if someone came to the door, some old flame like K or something and said, btw we have a child. How radical would that be? L was describing one of those enthusiastic mothers at UNO on the way home from playdate the other day – he said she has that smug look on her face. N said yeah, that “I’m the only one who has ever gotten pregnant” look, and I said, I thought it was that “I’m pregnant, you’re not,” smug look.

The detox plan seems to be rapidly unwinding but I will try to preservere if only for my waistline.

Stormed all night with Arlene up and down in the bed with the quivers. Vivid dreams. Walking along the bayou to playdate the pinky blue clouds were skimming the water. There are too many images, memories, words, feelings to get them all straight in my mind. I keep trying to lay them out in some linear fashion but they get all tangled up again as soon as I line them up. Saw Broken Flowers last night – a quiet, profound Jarmouche movie. Resonates in the longing and what if – and imagining what it might have been when the reality could have certainly been different. Beautifully done by Bill Murray and an excellent ending. I love seeing these guys Jarmouche, Murray at the top of their game after being in it so long – the habit becomes them.

Silence on the point of …… the Muse is torturing me again, can’t put down in words, can’t even line up the thinking – what goes on? If I sat down to write a friend about where my head is now I would fill blank pages with silly nonsense and still come no closer to uncovering the truth.

While everyone else went to watch Valiant I went for a family visit. B and B are going to Israel because B can’t stand sitting around after the feds confiscated his building, his car, basically his life. This is over $3 million – surely these people have better things to investigate or dally on. S&M are in love and M’s cute and so lovingly sweet, perfect for S who needs a lot of attention. They are going to try for #2 as early as January. R looks a lot like M now. Still in the wide eyed stage. Always liked that stage. On Saturday, with J&G’s sons, noticed how M is in that stage, just kind of wide eyed innocence while G is still bobby. It makes W seem so fully formed because he is able to hit multiple levels of intelligence so at the ready. In my history of these relationships W is the most intriguing I’ve met – it doesn’t help that he is so goddamn handsome – I’m hoping all of him stays open to all of it as he gets older.

Yesterday is gone, tomorrow is uncertain, all we have is today – from Broken Flowers. But isn’t aging about being able to conujure up all those yesterdays into a narrative that you fits you like a tailored suit?

Some Mondays seem to start off fine – like an unexpected cool breeze in August – the bayou full and even slightly choppy – then wammo – sidelined by idiot contractors – like this A-1 Contractor fool who did such a shitty job on our house to the point where we now have to hire some other company to fix the foundation and two flat tires on the bike which the pump couldn’t help because a) no one knows how to use it, and b) guy at Bayou Bikes said it will only put in about 70 lbs anyway. Finally get air in the tires and then have too many work things and the heat is rising and so there is that wonderful, perfect, anomaly of a morning obliterated – damn Monday mornings – why do they always have to be such cliches?

Just broached subject of why it is I have started to objectify men and my colleague told me she seriously thinks she is turning into a man. I do think this job, the times, are all putting us on a more even playing field so that what was clearly a gender defined trait has more universal application. Broached similar subject with S:

R (4:20:29 PM): why do you have that spicy chicken back up?
s (4:20:39 PM): everyone giving me shit about the rat I’m kissing.
s (4:20:46 PM): how did you know I needed to talk to you

s (4:22:16 PM): think I am too, all I can think about is the sex I’m not having
s (4:22:25 PM): or the sex I’ve had and am not having now
s (4:22:32 PM): or the sex I wish I was having
s (4:22:33 PM): whatever

The great divide has been crossed – K turned 21 today. You think about these things like a thirty year difference and you know that they really don’t matter in the end – only if the participants are able to truly believe in what they are doing. Right now the jury is definitely out on L, but K leaves soon and we’ll see if that doesn’t present a more compelling story. Meanwhile, at Brigtsens last night the food was good but not great – his signature dish, the rabbit, was dry and even the duck was dry. No one really liked the bisque – said it tasted like roux. Of course, S and I were comparing it to our fabulous last meal at August and there is no comparison because they are different types of food. The service was a little spotty, which was truly unusual and if P hadn’t been there to throw in some overseeing, it would have been not good. I walked in back and P said “is that L’s date?” and I smiled. Then somewhere in the middle of it all I was at the table with S, L and K talking about her birthday and smiling at P as she walked by and then this other waitress who I had met before when I went with F earlier this year at the ad conference – who is really cute – her name is S – came by and smiled – and I had a convergence of ten years ago when I was working there and F had developed his issues due to R having his ear, and somewhere hovering in the present crept in the knowledge that the house is delayed yet again because of a bunch of hillbillies, and then out of the clear blue I felt the pang that almost made me double over and as it is wont to do – I couldn’t shake it. It is a visceral longing that makes me want to just ball up like W does and lay on the floor for a meltdown. I went to sleep with it and woke up with it and I wonder if this is ever going to find a remedy or if what ails me must be approached piece meal till the end of days.

Spacey all day and so I have noticed a pattern whereby too much excess tips me off center and that is when the pang is at its worse because the whole ingredient list just starts swirling around and doesn’t present itself cogently into any form that is recognizably comfortable or reasonable – instead everything seems just within grasp but not quite there.

I had a nightmare last night over the most inane stupidest thing – I know it sort of reaches back to the other night in the courtyard when N said “I hate your hair like that” but my dream was I cut it all off and died it blonde and walked in and N looked at me in horror and then I looked in the mirror and had not realized D had cut it so short – like MG in that movie that S said reminded me of when he met me, the short hair and big earrings – but I screamed when I saw my reflection. What goes on? Has my life gotten so superficial that the thought of cutting my hair gives me nightmares?

It all can be traced to pure and utter burn out – I’m fighting for time off right now as September looks to be a gnarly in terms of reports but each vacation day never really takes hold – F said I saw you on email on your day off, you are addicted – I said yes, I am addicted and overwhelmed and I can’t seem to get centered. Again cannot be swept away within the terms “bizarre context” – it all just hovers in the ether trying to find some place to land.

S is in town with M and R and we hope to go see them tomorrow.

Had a short conversation with J&P today – it’s P’s birthday. Weird distance between us. They fly around and visit the brood willy nilly but never seemed to have time to drive only an hour and a half to see us – of course, there is no compelling reason to – S and I don’t offer them immortality like the others. But we plan a visit there in Dec and both of their responses were “if we’re here, we’ll see you” – S has no compunction to try to figure this out and chalks it up to the way his family is – weird – and I certainly am not going to broach what is clearly some weird chip on their shoulder – I mean P called EHDD to discuss the Yolo project rather than call his own son – clearly there are issues but as Rev B said, it’s not my place to negotiate with S’s family. So I stay out of it and deal with my own tribe that conjure up enough for me to deal with regularly.

Lunch with Mom yesterday – I asked a simple question “how’s S” – Turn around! she said, turn around and look at me now – so I did – and she mouthed “he got fired” and I shook my head in disbelief because I keep wondering how S got on this downward spiral and where the bottom is. It scares the hell out of Mom – she has always worried that S has suicidal tendencies when I’ve always worried she has homicidal ones.

E’s mother MiMi died and he left a photo of her in her younger years tucked into the NYT on L’s door mat. An inscription was written in E’s handwriting in back, which read “L, thanks for being such a good friend to E, I appreciated it, love MiMi”. L said she died on Friday, he went over on Saturday and when E answered the door his eyes were swollen and red from twist and grief. L asked if he should come to the funeral and E said, “No L, you are ancillary to her circle, but I appreciate your offer.” L thinks he twisted it around when he told N.

Yoda said attachment leads to jealousy, which is the shadow of greed – let go of your attachments. Uh, no. Perhaps too much Anakin in me than Yoda.

Arriving in SF on Thursday made my heart race – irrational fear that I would one day move back – deep breath, rather walk off planet. Cold and foggy except for Napa, made me long for tank top and shorts despite L telling me the weather here was not fit for dogs or humans.

I am freezing versus I am sweaty – which do you find compelling?

Friday morning laying in bed with the foggy wet cold streaming into the open window at the Argonaut – I longed for my Muse – sank under the covers – the long term plan became crystal clear to me… and with it a sweet serenity.

I have lost the habit of art…

[Adele was……notes to self – could start dead or dying]

K is in town and not sure how L is going to handle revealing it to others or not. Said he’s felt elated and some dread of what to do. Today at playdate was like first day of school and it is for so many – all the dogs were present at play date – N starts at the can this morning – W starts Country Day this Friday – Sep promises to be crazy busy – and as Les is want to quote – and the band played on….

A had me laughing with her bandaids and bj demo – the smurf – step one – who knew – then S with her jealousy of A, her giggles over “don’t touch that!” and overall good raucous time with everyone but so sweet to smell the humidity in the plane’s air as we came closer to the gulf. B was called bitch boy? – what goes on, and P told he was now in the cool club – all this from the love van – poor Ches (Chest), but more importantly poor B – damaged goods now.

philip (7:56:09 AM): oh.my.lord.
philip (7:56:17 AM): the love bus?
R (7:56:18 AM): Allison had remorse
R (7:56:21 AM): the love bus
R (7:56:32 AM): we had a good time (ahem)
philip (7:56:39 AM): didn’t sound like that much remorse
R (7:56:44 AM): next day
R (7:57:00 AM): “did we call Philip?” – what did we say? – oh no!
philip (7:57:12 AM): in the cool club? i hear that right?
R (7:57:19 AM): that was her remorse
R (7:57:28 AM): we think we’re cool
philip (7:57:43 AM): mmm hmmm
R (7:57:53 AM): hey, you want in or not?
philip (7:58:04 AM): 😉
R (7:58:26 AM): when I heard you were going to jump off boat in bay I decided to come for client event
philip (7:58:36 AM): absolutely
philip (7:58:48 AM): lap around the boat
R (7:59:06 AM): can’t wait
philip (7:59:17 AM): who was in the “bus” ?
R (7:59:44 AM): Shannon, Allison and I on way home with Brian one seat ahead (he is now damaged goods poor boy)
philip (7:59:52 AM): stunned
R (8:00:00 AM): you or baby Brian?
philip (8:00:05 AM): BB
R (8:00:12 AM): will never be quite the same

Sometimes my friend L has good insight and sometimes he is troubled by everything he sees. Walking along the bayou this morning I told him I was troubled by wanting to have it all and he said some days you just cannot. And there it is – there are seamless days, there are days where one or two things are hitting perfectly, and then there are days like the last two where I’m here, mind’s there, body’s way over there, and you just can’t seem to round everything up in a tidy package.

The question of how vulnerable you allow yourself to be when you can’t muster all your forces is still out there, but there’s hope.

The neighborhood is having a rash of break ins and robberies and here we think the bayou is so bucolic. Our columns arrive today – yippee.

Eating a brie and pear sandwich in the quarter on leaving New Orleans Feb 2005 – with N who articulated something about place for me, he said, “I could picture living in San Francisco, New York or Chicago. I can actually picture living in a few other places. But I cannot imagine not living in New Orleans.” I swear I finally bit into the pear right when he said that. And still it was not my decision to move home – it was S who woke up one day daunted by the path EHDD was on, by the forty grand we would spend on the front yard, and knowing that I would be gone yet another summer that propelled us here.

No sleep yet again. W’s got growing pains and I’ve got the equivalent, an aching that sometimes is profound. The humidity is rising again and with it comes less clarity. S asked me to tap my Dorothy shoes this morning, ruby slippers, and I said, “there’s no place like home” and it fit comfortably with the surroundings, but then Lance attacked Arlene and a bee bit M on the eye and before you know it, the denouement of playdate was thoroughly underway.

L had a restless night thinking about K and whether he is up to the challenge. I had a restless night thinking about fragments of conversations that have no context, beginnings that can’t find endings, middles that are on continuous loop – the Muse says it is all up to me – I feel like beating my head on a brick wall.