It is a morning of grey and mixed emotions. I spent the night at my friend Audrey’s house. Rick and Audrey’s house. Perhaps they are a unit – they speak of worrying about two people that they know in London right now. and then there’s a pause, and they look at one another and they both say “well, two COUPLES”. It’s an alien way. There’s an odd moment when they sit on opposing couches, holding hands, and I think to myself – this is probably what they do every night. Just sit here. holding hands. I comment on it and Audrey says that no, usually at about this time she’s complaining about the dishes.
I figure that’s legit.
Yesterday, waking at Rowan’s to the noise of news. The bombings of London were being reported in the background as Rowan woke me out of some unwanted dream and I didn’t even take notice. I had assumed that it was all just one more IED being detonated in Iraq , or a bombing in any number of places where such events are everyday. My acceptance of the fact is kind of horrifying, I suppose. The idea that the bass thuds and crumpled metal sounds of morning rush hour malice in the form of plastique could ever be a standard morning sound – the aural space shared with the hissing brakes of busses and the chatter of people and the random fluting notes of whatever the local birds are. that’s pretty disgusting.
It casts a pall over the day. I hated having to get on with business. The announcement of our ilyANGEL eBay program finally going online couldn’t be postponed. Limited time, and all of that. but you can’t send a mass-email out to a thousand people and not put in mention of an event of that magnitude. I mentioned it. I worried that I had done it distastefully, but I’m learning that there’s only so much time I can worry about how I say things. There’s only so much time in which to say them. I figure there’s always someone out there to get offended by the way I say things, but it’s more important that they’re said, and there’s plenty of people who will get it and be glad of it.
“rob ,
I would like to applaud you for your message. You are right. There is no good way to mix these messages, and sending one without the other today just doesn’t seem right. Just the commercial message alone might seem crass, but just the message of anger and concern for friends and family seems inappropriate to send out to your fans for no other reason.
Living in this world can be so frustrating it tears you apart sometimes. Thanks for doing your part to make it invigorating, intriguing and fun. And keep talking honestly, ’cause you do it well.
Cheers and welcome back home,
Scott“
A good letter. It’s good to hear I get it right sometimes.
Last night I spent sitting up late, talking to Audrey. She talked me into headache and collapsing fatigue, and I talked her into incoherence and collapsing fatigue, and we finally turned in at around 2am or so. Late for her, early for me. We were both exhausted. It was a good conversation though – I think I’ve mentioned before about how I Love the fact that our uneven and rather random schedule leads us frequently to keep our hosts up to odd hours in rambling talk. Sitting in door jams and sprawled on floors on dogs and on couches. I Love those finishing touches on the night.
We talked a lot about my Dad, though. I told her I worried about getting too old to keep doing what I’m doing. I told her I worried that other people would think I was too old. She told me that I worried that my Dad would think I was too old to be doing what I’m doing. She said it simply and it took my breath away. Audrey can be so wise in the midst of so much chaos and late-night babble.
It lead to strange dreams.
An aside at this point – many years ago, in my sixteenth year, I had never been kissed. One night however, on a trip to an amusement park, someone went ahead and kissed me, and I had no idea what to do. It actually made me feel kind of sick. It was also my first experience with that uniquely male agony of “blue balls”. I didn’t know the term then, but I heard it years later, and I knew EXACTLY what they meant. anywho, I came home that night and talked to my friend Zack and said “OH my GOD I got KISSED and I didn’t know what to DO!!!!” He then proceeded to do this horrible fish thing. He explained that you opened your mouth, closed your eyes, stuck your tongue out and wiggled it. I’m thankful that I’ve learned more since then. But that’s beside the point, this is an important description and you’ll see why in a bit.
I dreamt that I ran across the actor who plays Snake Eyes in the GI Joe cartoons. He was on his knees in a hallway poking at some wind-up device – he explained to me that the cartoons were now all motion-capture, and he’d been having trouble getting a convincing bomb-disarming motion down. He took me back to the studio, a big black man dressed all in black, and introduced me to one of the women who ran the cameras and other random tools that transformed his pantomimes into the cartoon show enjoyed by millions every Saturday morning.
I was sitting on a lawn-chair of some sort when the very cute motion-capture specialist leaned over me and kissed me. It was at this point that I woke up in the midst of doing that horrible fish thing. An explanation HERE would just be annoying. hence the prefaced description.
I was very glad that no-one had come down stairs.
But then they did, and with them came the dog.
Banjo is a Loving mammal. He’s big with big paws and big floppy ears and a big floppy tongue that reminds me of a big smooth washcloth that’s been left in a very moist greenhouse. Wet, flappy, and organically unpleasant. I was thankful that Audrey had the foresight to build me a fort out of couch pillows, which actually kept Banjo at bay, but any exposed “paws” would get cleaned. so I’d fall asleep, relax, and perhaps dream a little more, only to be woken by the horrible sensation of Banjo giving me his undivided attention, at which point the exposed limb would be immediately retracted underneath the bright yellow sheets. Banjo would hunt for any other exposed flesh and eventually wander off, ever-vigilant for other dirty paws.
And so I faded in and out of dreams for much of the morning. Distorted moments of Harry Potter, of old acquaintances, and of course, driving dreams. I had one where Heather and I were joy-riding in my mom’s big blue van, but Heather’d never driven something so big before and was only nominally in control. In the way of dreams, by the time she’d lost it completely and careened up and over a mountainous service road, it had transformed into a big, red double-decker bus (a la London bombings). We were whipped by not-so-low-hanging branches as we fought to keep the vehicle upright and eventually brought it to a halt. A couple of women came out of the surrounding forest to check on us, one of which had a scythe. A big black metal scythe (she told me not to worry cause “I ain’t no grim reaper!”). Then the police came and asked for license and registration and all that good stuff. Heather had her license, but we only had the registration for the blue van and we were about to get in trouble when I was arguably saved by the liberally applied tongue of Banjo.
I didn’t bother going back to sleep at that point.
I was awake when Audrey’s sister came by with her four-week-old baby. Tiny, tiny creature. I shuddered at its softness. I’ve touched skin like that before, and it always makes me cringe. It’s too fragile to touch. I’d almost prefer the tongue of the Banjo. (put the stress on the JO and it sounds like a kung fu movie).
And so the morning progresses. We have normal morning sounds here. A couple of barks of distant dogs. Chirping of birds hidden in trees. The combined grindings and cursings of a man trying to start his car across the street. Stereotypical white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Gentle patter of the still-continuing rain from the night before, and the even gentler aftermath as it rains again from branches and the undersides of leaves. The thud of an old tree limb that finally gives in and comes crashing to the leafy ground.
Heh. I’m glad I got up. For the moment, at least, it’s the spring we missed in our travels.
