The Renaissance Man
Had some routine test this morning but was holding my breath a little after the doc last week said she didn’t like what she saw – always makes you go, huh, if you don’t like, how do you think I feel? Anyway, so this genial doctor comes in and starts examining me and telling me how he stayed through the storm and did three surgeries during the storm and then it was like dead and everyone there got all weird like did everyone die or go away? And then suddenly when people started coming back – it was like constant triage because people were falling off roofs (my brother), sawing their legs, and pounding nails into their bodies – this is what happens when an entire city suddenly becomes DIY renovators overnight.
While I am sitting there wanting my clean bill of health this doc proceeds to ask me what I do, do I like it, blah blah – I tell him I am a writer – and he says no kidding – I write songs. I wanted to write rock and roll but instead I have written three country songs and one has been picked up my a song broker in Nashville. So I’m like do I have cancer or what? Then he tells me about his investments and his teaching residents at Ocshner. He’s a renaissance man. The good news – I got a clean bill of health after our chat.
The metal windows for the addition arrived today in a big old crate and J and his boys and I unpacked the crate out front of the LaLa and brought in each window and they are beautiful. J is seriously tweaked about the screen porch that S designed – he doesn’t understand why it has partitions – it just freaks him out for some reason – and so I told him to do what S designed – that there is a purpose for everything he did. Meanwhile he was scratching his head because the terrace has a solid rail and I finally told him that is so I can sunbathe nude – and it was like a light bulb went off over his head and he finally accepted the design. Of course when we got to the privacy for the outdoor shower’s exterior wall he said to me “you know they (my neighbor) could get a ladder and look down in here and see you” and I said, “J, if he gets a ladder and puts it up in that window so that he can see in my shower, if he goes to that trouble, he can look.”
G and L were going for sushi and wanted me to join them but I passed because the day was nutty and I have a busy week ahead and was eager to chill out. So I rented some Grey’s Anatomy episodes from first season – I’m hooked on the show after two things – 1) I haven’t watched television since it seems like years, and 2) the first episode I happened to see was art imitating my life – so a natural hook. My favorite line was the end of episode 6 or whatever – where Meredith says – So why do I keep hitting myself over the head with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop.
N wrote me late today in a funk – pains me – depressed and can’t pull out of it. It pains me. She was looking for me to walk and ended up taking a bike ride through the park to try to lift herself out of it – and turns out the park and its funk sank her further. The deep well of sadness – this is what the aftermath of Katrina has wrought – a city of the walking wounded – I focus on my personal pain as if it is not reflected in the landscape as S said – it’s all manifest – but I do believe we have to stay strong as Jackie wrote in her inscription – we have to overcome – we have to believe in our resilience – and have grace under pressure.
Mom called late in the day – I think she is purposely tormenting me with her scattered mind – “my doc appt is moved to Wed morning instead of this afternoon” – you told me it was Tuesday afternoon – “no, it has always been Monday and now it is Wednesday.” The television is blaring in the background and she can’t hear a word I am saying – I keep telling her that soap is the problem – it irritates my skin – she says WHAT – and I yell back SOAP – and she repeats and repeats – and I say SOAP SOAP SOAP vying against the backdrop of some incessant television noise that has been her constant companion since dad died twenty years ago – SOAP SOAP SOAP! – and then a long pause and she says, you always had sensitive skin. And I just want to bang my head on the wall.
S is in Hawaii with his brother C – no cell service at the house so he called while C was in the hardware store today. Communication has been limited as I try to limit any outburst of anger – and he is limiting his communication so as to not express disappointment. Underpinning all of the anger, disappointment and sadness are many good memories that will take a while to return.
Today a big envelope was in the LaLa mailbox – Cliff usually brings my mail to the Can – it was an Abita Beer cap that S ordered when we were in Arlington – it finally made it through the mail – so that’s progress, isn’t it?