30 Days of Birthday: Day 10 - (More) Flash Fiction

This is yet another very short story I yanked out of my laptop and dusted off and put in the summertime rewrite bin, an eternal snapshot of my New York City life.  When I say that I should write a book, MPB says I already have -- I just have to organize all of it and give it a good edit. Now that I'm finding pieces like this, I'm starting to believe he's right.

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                                                            TRAIN RIDE

Run for the train.

As you stand at the top of the stairs, you feel the blast of warm air, like the subway is gasping.  You start down the stairs and the whole world starts up the stairs, at you.  It is a tidal wave of people, an endless barrage of old people and baby strollers and small children being dragged around by the wrist that leaves you wedged against the wall, close enough to the train to see it leave you breathless.  The teller tries not to laugh at you and fails miserably.

Wait for the train.

Find yourself staring down that long dark empty tunnel as though you and everyone else on the platform staring with you were attempting to will the train to appear. Know that when you see those headlights, you and everyone around you, with your collective pacing and complaining and the tension that is bouncing around inside all of you, had something to do with it finally showing up. You tell yourself that you can keep this up all day.  And you do. 

Get on the train.

Every detail from every train ride melts into each other until one ride is indistinguishable from the next, and then somewhere in between switching to an express or catching the cross town shuttle, all of it becomes one long ride to nowhere.  You may not be wearing the same clothes but it’s the same train ride,day in and day out. The clean seats.  The screaming babies. The vomit.  The obnoxious tourists. The businessmen. The intimate conversations you didn’t want to hear. The foreign languages you don’t understand.  The walking sickness next to you dying and then in front of you begging gradually becomes the same gaunt homeless faces passing you by with the same story, bony arms outstretched for anything you’ve got, like death on holiday. By midday, you look up at someone in a cheap suit sitting across from you inhaling a gigantic hoagie absentmindedly and you realize you haven’t had anything to eat all day.

Your one constant is the book you are reading.  When you read, you are elsewhere.

Get off the local and transfer to the express line.

It’s an unspoken rule that everyone reads over everyone else’s shoulder.

You give your seat to a pregnant woman and glare at the guy next to you. More confirmation that chivalry is dead. You check that subway map next to the door, the one you think you know like the back of your hand, because you’re not sure which stop is yours. The tangled mass of train lines at the lower end of the city spangle the map like the back end of some wierdo’s psychedelic rainbow trip, As you lean down to get a closer look, the plumber in front of you readjusts politely.  You know that you just gave him something to wank off about later because your blouse fell open for a moment longer than it should have and he saw more than he was supposed to.  You sigh and let it go. 

You know that’s all the action you’re going to get for a long, long time.  For a moment, you are grateful to him for not smirking at you.  You look at him for a moment.  Older. Stocky.  Strong.  A touch of gray.  Pale watery blue eyes.  Filthy hard working hands, the kind you were raised to believe that a real man ought to have.  He looks Czech. No, you think to yourself.  Polish.  You are rewarded for your unfailing powers of observation when he pulls out a Polish newspaper from his back pocket. A moment passes.  You stand over him and lean in, pretending to read over his shoulder.  His friends who are sitting nearby stop talking and watch you.  As he attempts to turn a page, you stop him and pretend to finish a last paragraph, then indicate that yes, now he can turn the page. Everyone laughs. You laugh, too.  He offers you his seat. When you refuse, he insists.  Surprised and grateful, you take it. As he leaves, he pretends to give you his Polish newspaper.  You pretend to take it. You both laugh again and wave goodbye. You will never see him again.  You think to yourself, I love New York.  And you mean it.

i've got a beautiful feeling...

every day is drenched in sunshine and possibilities. even the rain means growth and nurturing and promise. if new york city is this lovely and amazing, the south i know and love and miss must be stunning -- replete with blooming scented trees, shady groves and azaleas everywhere. when everything around you is this beautiful, you really can't help but feel that beauty, too.

and so of course -- musical theater geek that i am -- the day finds me skipping through gotham like a sepia-toned shirley jones with an afro, singing that song from the musical oklahoma! you know it, too. everyone knows that song.

heh.

i was tipping through midtown the other day and when i turned my head, i saw this.

beautiful, isn't it.

this explains everything! (but not really...)

i know i'm going to sound like a gigantic hippie and no i don't believe in this stuff wholeheartedly but i'm going to say it anyway: venus is in retrograde from may 15 to june 27.  that retrograde action is a strange thing. every 20 months for about 6 weeks, the planet venus appears to be going backwards from our earthly perspective. 

here's where the rubber hits the road: retrograde motion means that everything pulls back and gives you a chance to deal with the area of your past that involves that particular planet. venus represents love and beauty, so that means if there are unresolved issues in your love life, they may resurface now.  circumstance is literally taking you back to the past, to deal with it and move on.  i'm thinking, i dealt with this stuff already. but if i had, it wouldn't be resurfacing, now would it.

this may explain why i'm running into certain people right now, why i can't stop thinking about certain people right now, why certain people are contacting me right now, why i'm insisting on reaching out to certain people right now and why certain people can't seem to connect with me right now.

ew.


it also kicks up a lot of dirt in your current relationships -- if there is any.

there's way more, of course. read all about that here and here, if you feel like it. the bottom line is, if you deal with your junk, you will grow exponentially. but that's true no matter what.

"Not being beautiful was the true blessing. Not being beautiful forced me to develop my inner resources. The pretty girl has a handicap to overcome." -- Golda Meir

sorry i've been so incognegress on this blog. i've been having slam dancing alone for the past few weeks.  it has been glorious.  somehow all of the percussive reconnecting and shutting down and running around and thinking too much shook quite a bit loose, thus inducing a dreamlike state of play that has allowed me to create and rethink and wander aimlessly internally, spinning yarns in this lackadaisical way that is more focused and intense than anything i'd try to muster if i sat still and tried and tried and tried. 

everything is so beautiful. there is so much love in the world. i am entranced by the wonder of it all. i'm sure that things will turn ugly but even that will have its own beauty to explore and demolish.  in the meantime, i will continue to tell stories, whether i'm singing or not.

now and always, the sun will shine within me. same as it ever did. something inside of me will continue to bloom and grow beneath the clear expansive sky in my southern soul.  it simply can't be helped.

at the moment, i'm gearing up for some serious fun.

since my birthday is in june, i've decided that all 30 days should have a celebratory event of epic proportions.  i've got to make appointments here and there but for the most part, this will be fairly spontaneous. that alone makes me just a wee bit giddy.  i have every intention of documenting all of it here.

one thing is certain: i will take risks.

august in retrograde -- or irene, good night

i tried to stay home all month, like an urban hermit that's taken a vow of antipeople: just me, my guitar and my bright ideas. i have no idea why. something instinctively compelled me to close the door upon myself. in retrospect, it wasn't a bad notion -- not this august, anyway. it was oppressively hot, dangerously hot. so hot, it felt as though the sun pummeled me about the head and shoulders with a bright yellow sledgehammer whenever i went outside. running around at night was no fun, either. the heat was still on and on and on, muted yet insolent enough to sass me, with the kind of sweat that made my entire backside sticky mere minutes after i stepped into it.

navigating the city on the weekends was unthinkable. there's just too many drunken idiots out there, trying desperately to dress like they're in new york city and pushing hard to make sure they have some kind of new york city fun. it's exhausting, just being around them. in the end, they're the epitome of the generic and the average and the ordinary that they're attempting to escape. why? because there is no escaping who or what you really are. to paraphrase the great john lee hooker, it's in you -- whatever it is -- and it's gots to come out. especially if it's your culturally condoned incompetence.

as if all of that weren't enough -- and you know it is -- there's more: mercury was in retrograde for practically the entire month. it seems that everything is crawling out from under that introspective boulder right about now. not that i co-sign astrology but when i read it from my comfy bunker in harlem, it seemed to explain a lot. and yes -- if you're enough of a hippie enough to know what any of that means, you probably wanted to stay home and avoid the world, too.

yes, of course there's the stuff that's absolutely necessary. church. boxing. foraging for victuals at the dominican grocery store up the street. the rest was extra and although there were some things that couldn't be avoided -- a weekend getaway, perhaps or a get together with friends -- i zipped home as fast as my well-toned legs would carry me.

yet and still, i felt compelled to hibernate. this special month of record breaking heat waves, golf ball-sized hail and water main break flooding, topped off by a hurricane found me at home, growing things -- working on the libretto for the billie holiday project (it goes up in september at dixon place), practicing guitar, vocalizing with my slightly out of tune piano, making several submission deadlines for all kinds of stuff and writing more songs and lyrics.

hurricane irene turned out to be the icing on my summer cake.

i can't even tell you how many southern relatives called me, laughing at the yankees they saw on the news who were frolicking on the beach under such ominous skies, and ignoring warnings from the police and fire department. my aunt in charleston south carolina told me one supergenius somewhere on the jersey shore remarked that he lived on the second floor of his building, so he would be fine. hilarious!

for everyone in her neck of the woods, hurricane season is just starting. they've got another two months or so to live through -- bracing themselves the same way some yankees did: shopping for food, taping up windows, filling the tub with water, unplugging everything, burrowing themselves in shelters or leaving the state entirely, well into the month of november. they do it every year during hurricane season. it's a way of life.

how well i remember the many hurricanes of my southern childhood, when we would turn off all the lights and throw open all the windows and unplug everything and gather in the den and pray. even a summer storm could turn violent and deadly. all of us -- cousins and uncles and aunts and my grandparents -- huddled together in the darkness. we were so collectively solemn and profoundly unshaken for the most part, even when the lightning would streak across the sky and a powerful clap of thunder would follow, and shake the ground itself.

listen, my grandfather would say, after an especially loud jolt would rattle me all the way down to my little girl bones, and i would shudder involunarily. it was almost as though my body knew to be scared, even if i didn't. listen, he murmured softly, holding his pipe between his thumb and first finger, the ashes glowing in the darkness. he would lean forward and point at me and give me a knowing look. listen, he would say. God is talking.

apropos of nothing, i leave you with one of my favorite neil young songs, like a hurricane. what a beautiful love song.

The Next Gig: "THE PIANO HAS BEEN DRINKING" - a night of tributes to Tom Waits

Instead of a postcard or a flyer with a cool photo on it, here's a massively huge blurb for the next gig tonight 8/4 10pm at The Rum House near Times Square. We'll be paying tribute to everyone's favorite booze soaked poet/troubadour (and actor!) Tom Waits. There is absolutely no cover whatsoever. Isn't that nice?

Expect well-crafted cocktails, a bit of a neo-vaudeville spark from the emcee Mr. Jonny Porkpie the Burlesque Mayor of New York City (how nice of him to keep his clothes on for this one) and some sort of emotional spontaneous combustion at the mic -- at least, from me.

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The Newest Old Cocktail Lounge in Times Square announces the first event in its new "Bespoke Music" series THE PIANO HAS BEEN DRINKING, a night of tributes to the music of Tom Waits led by Benjamin Ickies (This Ambitious Orchestra, Oh! You Pretty Things) and JC Hopkins (Grammy-nominated songwriter, JC Hopkins Biggish Band). It will be the first event of its kind held at the new Rum House since the bar opened under the supervision of the Gentlemen of Ward III earlier this year.

"Since Rum House reopened, customers have enjoyed their bespoke cocktails to the sound of incredible pianists tickling the ivories almost every night of the week," says Jonny Porkpie, who curates the entertainment menu. "And we've been thrilled with the quality and variety of talent that have come through. Now, we're excited to start hosting some larger events in addition to our regular programming, and a celebration of Tom Waits' mixture of old-school showmanship with bourbon-soaked lyricism was the perfect kickoff."

The event features the talents of two of The Rum House's favorite entertainers, Benjamin Ickies and JC Hopkins. Hopkins and Ickies will take turns at the piano, accompanied by a fabulous array of special guests, musicians and vocalists including DeWitt Fleming Jr, Shien Lee (Dances of Vice), Mamie Minch, John Presnell, Queen Esther, Eric Schmalenbeger (House of Yes) and Sylvester Schneider (Zum Schnieder). Mr. Porkpie, in a rare fully-clothed appearance, hosts the evening.

THE PIANO HAS BEEN DRINKING begins at 10:00pm on Thursday, August 4. There is no cover for the event. The event kicks off the "Bespoke Music" event series, which focuses on the work of a different musician or genre each month. The next event will be in September. The Rum House Entertainment Menu is presented Monday through Saturday nights, with cocktail hour
entertainment Monday through Thursday 6pm - 8pm and late night entertainment Wednesday 8pm - 10pm and Thursday through Saturday starting at 9:30pm.

ABOUT THE FEATURED PIANISTS

JC Hopkins is a Grammy-nominated songwriter and producer. His band, The JC Hopkins Biggish Band, worked with the likes of Norah Jones, Madeleine Peyroux, Elvis Costello, Justin Bond and Martha Wainwright. A working habitué of jazz dives, burlesque clubs and seedy piano bars, Hopkins honed his songwriting and musical chops in these colorful surroundings, gaining inspiration for the original material that comprises the majority of his band's swinging repertoire.

Bay Area native Benjamin Ickies moved to New York to study accordion with William Schimmel (featured on the Tom Waits albums Rain Dogs and Frank's Wild Years) in lieu of college. Thanks to his tutelage in rock, tango and cabaret, Ickies now directs several music ensembles in NYC and performs in many more. As a bandleader, he conducts the symphonic rock band This Ambitious Orchestra, co-produces the quarterly glam rock series Oh! You Pretty Things and on Tuesdays can be seen at the Griffin running the band for the cabaret Cafe Panache.

What's in YOUR purse?

after reading this blog entry from stylist olori swank, i realized that a lot of people who know me usually wonder aloud when they're around me as to what is in my purse. i usually carry vintage purses because i figure it's less likely that i'll see anyone else with what i've got. to my way of thinking, style is much more important than fashion.

here's what lives in my purse -- as of today. (i don't know what's more shocking/annoying: the amount of stuff i carry everywhere or how much this says about who i am.)

1. enid collins purse. (yes, i collect these. i found the latest one at a vintage/antique shop in brattleboro, vt for $30. go figure.)
   
2. ipod shuffle (tres retro!) and big ol' sony headphones
3. lucas' papaw ointment (if you are in the us of a and if you are black like me and if you have any of this in your purse, i owe you a coke.)
   
4. a large coach wallet
5. moo business cards in their tidy leather holder
6. housekeys
   
7. a small handmade gold compact with pam grier's picture embossed on it
8. multivitamins for the day
   
9. a chococat contact lens compact w/lens holder
   
10. a hand-embroidered vintage handkerchief
11. pocket kleenex tissues
    
12. android phone
13. android phone charger
    
14. pens i love to write with
    
15. bejeweled journal
16. a good book, usually a bio (now finishing up bessie by chris albertson)
    
17. a small bottle of motrin ib
    
18. purell hand sanitizer
19. small bottle of kiehl's creme de corps
20. small container of kiehl's superbly restorative skin salve
21. tide-to-go instant stain remover
22. nars lipstick -- "scarlet empress" (heh.)
23. vintage 50s ray ban shades and container
    

okay, yikes. this is too much for one purse. but all of it is so...necessary. i've got to be able to read and write and listen to cool stuff everywhere i go. one small slight disclaimer: most of these items are in a small clear plastic zip bag -- a purse in my purse, if you will -- so i can transfer it easily from one bag to another. really uncomplicates things.

hm. i feel another enid collins box purse coming on...

fun, fun, fun

here's where i'll be on saturday - the jazz age lawn party on governor's island! i've entered the pie contest. (wish me luck...!)

the latest (food) epiphany

i've figured it out. sort of.

if i want a lean, strong, healthy body, i have to physically exhaust myself -- i mean, take my body to the absolute limit -- for a few hours every day. oh, yeah. and i have to not eat or drink garbage, cut the carbs drastically and stop eating at night. whether i do or don't do those things, i can see the results immediately.

the problem is that new york city is one big eatfest, with tons of street food options, from exotic food trucks of every ilk to hot dog stands to fresh fruit and vegetable vendors, with better bargains than grocery stores. (quite a few of them are 24 hours.) it's like gotham was designed for non-stop noshing. frankly, impulse eating is an urge that i haven't conquered entirely. although i must say that when its hot outside, the last thing i want to do is eat anything -- so at least the weather is working in my favor.

getting there is hard but i know that maintaining what i'm fighting for will be the real struggle.

the longest day, the shortest night

ah, summer solstice. the first official day of summer. here's a little video (banned, of course - made by germans who thought it would be fun to pick on swedes) that celebrates it better than i did.