M is mad at K because K is trying to tell him how to paint. B is mad at K because K spoke to him inappropriately. I almost knocked P down entering the room she is painting. I’m mad at P and T for making a mess of the side yard with a big whopping paint spill. S is out of town and I called him and said there is a mutiny forming at the LaLa and I’m gone next week, so get your ass back in town and take care of all this crap.
Yesterday K tried to impress upon me that I am choosing victimhood in my role at the LaLa and that people are taking advantage of me left and right. He irritates the hell out of me because if anyone is taking advantage of me it is him with his slow ass ways! Meanwhile, spoke with TL this morning about this bend over grab your ankles home remodel life that we are living – it sucks, ya hear me. Am I a victim? Beats the hell out of me, but you know what, I keep trying to zen my way to the finish line hoping it doesn’t finish me before I cross it and all I can hang my hat on is that better people have done this in better times and weathered it all – also a lot of divorces happen from remodels – since I have that out of the way, I have no real disruption to look forward to once the house is complete. My concerns will reside with the small things – which shower to use? where to lounge? who christens the LaLa? – you know the little things that matter more than the big things.
H said to me he saw a man leaving my apartment – is that your friend? he asked – and I said he’s certainly not my enemy. I asked him if he is the hall monitor now. Just curious, he said. Hmmm, I said.
Even though I started my day with Abby #1 in my arms and a big squeeze hug from Jake, I came home to the Bean puking up her kibbles because of the pesticide they sprayed in the apartment. Work was nonstop phone calls till I finally had to get up and walk away from the desk in the late afternoon – so I thought I would take the Bean out for fresh air, stop by the LaLa, and clear my mind.
Instead K had to pull me aside and tell me how when he first met me I was so negative on the house and he got me to think positively about it. I just looked at him – I don’t know what the hell you are talking about I told him. And then he proceeded to tell me he had tapes he wanted me to listen to which would help me get in control. I just laughed – really now? – control? – as if I can control the process of this house.
I just told him we’d “chat” later – because I had more work waiting for me at home. And then I walked into one of my positive stories down 17% – oh joy.
It’s quite nutty to believe that anyone can feel a sense of permanence around these parts anymore. Get your house in order and risk the potential annihilation of a place? After Katrina, I think we’re all seeking some form of permanence, even though ironically we all know it can’t be found. We’re driving nails into buildings that are no more permanent than a blade of grass because the ground we are building on is on loan from mother nature.
And so what do I do in these uncertain times? Grow more attached to someone who has leaving on his mind.
An alcoholic is someone you don’t like who drinks as much as you do.
– Dylan Thomas
…unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full
Of direst cruelty
So again says Lady MacBeth – and I say to Armando today when he comes stalking the LaLa – no, you can’t come around here anymore. I helped you out but I don’t need your help – he was volunteering to work on the house for free. He tried to explain himself saying he was just stopping by but I knew better than to soften so I nipped it in the bud – no, I’m sorry, it is inappropriate for you to hang around my house. I don’t want you here.
So he went on.
R dressed as Lady MacBeth with blood stains on her hands last night – she kept saying “out, spot, out” but the reference was perhaps lost on the witches, ghosts and goblins that inhabit the non literary world. It’s that blood on her hands that bugs me most – because when it is on MacBeth’s hands she says a little water will wash it out but when she sees her own hands bloodstained, she embodies the guilt of all her doings.
Out spot out, I say.
Now they are saying that Endymion has to roll uptown. Blech. I bet all those little Krewe of Iris zenophobes are happy now.
I dressed up as a pirate to go to the neighborhood block party on L’s street. Turned out it was a heavy metal band (kind of) and a collection of people sitting on the front stoop of two houses, so we made our way back to the little party that was going on at V’s house across the street from L. R had joined us after dinner and we went to Pal’s and we went to Swirl and the neighborhood fun just didn’t quite gel but I wasn’t quite sure if it was because we never stayed long enough at any one event or if it was because I felt the pull of competing interests and that made me want to just hop in the hot tub and tune out.