Where did the time go?
Five minutes ago, it was spring. I couldn’t believe that I actually grew narcissus in the dead of winter and I was seriously considering adding another blooming flower to my indoor makeshift apartment garden when suddenly I found myself in the midst of summer stock and then recording with rope-a-dope and then work. A flurry of gigs transgressed, the way they always do. I woke up in late autumn with a desk job, a (boy)friend and no gym membership. Now, that's a blactress trifecta if there ever was one. *sigh* Trust me on this (because I know): When you want to keep your edge creatively, those three things are the axis of evil. Here's the kicker: In my spare time (when I had any), I was sitting around, practicing my guitar or my piano. practicing! My backside was turning to lard – which for me means a size 8 instead of a size 4. A crisis ensued, mainly because I don’t believe in buying bigger clothes when I pile on the poundage. Oh, no. I believe in strapping myself to a treadmill and getting back into what I've got in my closet. I’m too cheap to do anything but keep myself lean, stitch my clothes up and keep it moving.
I had nothing to wear in The Mild Winter Of My Contentment but my vintage Diane von Furstenberg wrap dresses. It gave me an excellent excuse to be a dazzling urbanite at any given moment. Random occasions were bound to occur. Case in point: James Brown’s wake (which I’m still processing and yes, you’ll hear about it in a minute). That’s right about when Christmas Eve found me motoring to Pennsylvania to visit with my friend’s family, New Year’s Eve found my friend and I in Koreatown and New Year’s Day was awash in collards and black eyed peas downtown with my friend’s friend, a Texan who believes in seasoning such things with as much pork as possible. (Dee-lish.) I brought a freshly baked pound cake with me (it’s actually a very good southern blackgrrl calling card), hung out for the company, stayed longer than I thought I would to watch the Edie Sedgwick biopic “Factory Girl” (what a dud) starring that insipid Sienna Miller (ditto).
I sauntered back uptown at a reasonable hour, feeling like a responsible adult. All the way there I tried to figure out what happened to my year and why it ran out on me the way that it did. Somewhere in there, I stopped trying and went to bed. But the question remains. And sometimes it nags at me. What happened to my year? What’s happening to my life? Is everything speeding up, or what?
Maybe that’s why I’m blogging – so I can keep up with all of it, somehow.
i can feel myself staggering into the work week but i have no intentions of falling down, unless i mean to hit the ground running. and i will, in time. time off will give me a second wind. i'm going to pray for rain -- the kind that means fertility and not destruction, the kind that nurtures and grows things and not the kind that kills. the compelling kind. it's a new year, a new beginning, a new plan of action. according to parliament, this is a chance to dance my way out of my constrictions. i do believe i'll take it.
lead or follow. keep up or get left behind. sink or swim. root hog or die.