FRIENDS AND FAMILY

My aunt is nearly 90.  She’s my Godmother and also like, my biggest fan.  I call her Tanti Honi (pronounced: DAHN-TEE  HAHN-NEE with my pristine Glendalian accent.)  Her name is actually Johanna, a name which I truly love for what I feel is its exotic sound, compounded by my tremendous appreciation of Bob Dylan’s classic: “Visions of Johanna”.

Tanti’s gorgeous.  Her skin never bothered wrinkling.  She has this smooth, moist complexion that’s unsettling almost (and that I sure hope I inherited).  But she doesn’t have a computer, so I send her my work in hardcopy.  I try to clean it up a little, but she tells me not to worry about it.  She’s a very hip lady.

Last week my beloved cousin (Tanti’s daughter) brought Tanti to town for the day and we got to spend some real quality time and have a few laughs.  Anyhow, at some point Tanti started talking about one of my short stories and she goes: “I swear, you should send those stories of yours in to get published.  You would make A MILLION DOLLARS.”  I just thought that was adorable and just so great.  It made me feel like I’m already a millionaire.  So, thanks, Tanti.  I knew there was something about you I liked.  (Aside from your kind, loving heart and your gorgeous skin.)

Yeah, you can always have certain people in your family who turn out to be infuriating and weird, even downright creepy.  But sometimes you get lucky with a good one here and there and those can be inspiring.  They can serve to spur you on when you feel like you just don’t have any Oooomfff  left in you. 

Friends are like that, too.  In the past year especially I have found my friends to be an invaluable source of strength and support.  I only hope I can measure up and reciprocate some day, because these true friends are God’s-honest gems and I just love ‘em all to pieces.

You gotta be selective with the ‘friend’ thing, tho’, and use your intuition (which, sadly, can also fail you).  Can’t be so fast and loose to let any yahoo barrel into your Inner Sanctum of friendship, I’ve found.  We all know the big motto: YOU CAN CHOOSE YOUR FRIENDS, BUT ….blah blah blah…  Which should make you feel like there’s some safety and control in the matter, but make no mistake, choosing friends is something you need to be real careful about.  

That being said, I’d love to share a wonderful poem.  It was introduced to me by my very well-read and very entertaining husband many years ago.  I recall Chris reciting this poem to me as we sat across from one another sipping our brandy one winters’ eve.  Well, maybe he sipped a beer and I’m pretty certain I was hitting the wine, but brandy sounds so civilized when you’re talking about spouting poetry… 

So this was written by the fine poet Gregory Corso.  It made me laugh (and almost cry) because it rang with a truth so very bittersweet.  I hope you enjoy it as much as we did and do.

Friend

Friends be kept
Friends be gained
And even friends lost be friends regained
He had no foes he made them all into friends
A friend will die for you
Acquaintances can never make friends
Some friends want to be everybody's friend
There are friends who take you away from friends
Friends believe in friendship with a vengeance!
Some friends always want to do you favors
Some always want to get NEAR you
You can't do this to me I'm your FRIEND
My friends said FDR
Let's be friends says the USSR
Old Scrooge knew a joy in a friendless Christmas
Leopold and Loeb planning in the night!
Et tu Brute
I have many friends yet sometimes I am nobody's friend
The majority of friends are male
Girls always prefer male friends
Friends know when you're troubled
It's what they crave for!
The bonds of friendship are not inseparable
Those who haven't any friends and want some are often creepy
Those who have friends and don't want them are doomed
Those who haven't any friends and don't want any are grand
Those who have friends and want them seem sadly human
Sometimes I scream Friends are bondage!  A madness!
All a waste of INDIVIDUAL time --
Without friends life would be different not miserable
does one need a friend in heaven –
                       
* * * * * *

Fresh Start

The new Jayhawks record is so crazy-good, I just don’t know what.

The whole sound of it screams ta me:

“Fresh Start”.

Yes fresh start, fresh start, every second of

Every day now feels like

it wants to be a

Fresh start.

New beat

New riff

Old feel

Cozy feel

But still…

Fresh

Start.

* * * * * *

5 and a Half Months Ago

We said:

“We’re so happy!  Fortunate, right?!

   Economy?  What?

     It barely affects us.

        We’re poor and we’re happy

               What’s better than that?”

That’s what we said.

* * * * * * *

Hi, There ~ *

Once I got locked
Into the concession stand
Of the Forest Park Carousel.

I was about 16 years old, with 2 or 3 girlfriends.
We use to slip in the concession stand in the dead of winter
While we were cutting school.  It would be freezing.  But alot of times, for some reason
We'd find it open.

So we'd go in and smoke a J
And shiver and jump up and down.
And laugh.
Alot.

Anyhow, one day we're in there
And these Parky's come and SLAM the door on us.
And like dicks, they call the cops.

And me and Lee and Camille and maybe Disco Rosa ???...
We're in there yellin: "LET US OUT.  C'MON, MAN! PLEASE!~!!!"

But then the cops come, pretty quick, too...
And they open the door, semi-lecherous themselves...
And they take our 'contact information", so much bullshit. 
They never called our parents or anything
It was just retarded.

But you never know what you're gonna think about.

                                           * * * * * * * *

Fickle (Yet Beautiful) Life - Finale (Pt. 4)

Went for another swim today.  What a beautiful, windy, wild autumnal day it was here in Queens!   And I have to say that I’m just so grateful for each day that I wake up beside my darling man.   Every day he makes me laugh, and often.  And the love that we have for one another brings me to tears, mostly unexpectedly, in the midst of the most ordinary moments.   Our lives together continue to make me a better person, a better spirit, a better soul.   My Honey Rocks.  And I’m just so incredibly grateful.  So.  There.

And something else made me feel grateful today.  I was swimming, doing my usual laps, and I hear one of the regular swimmer-guys say to another swimmer guy:  “She’s always a good one to get in a lane with.  She’s a very courteous swimmer.”   And I realize that he’s referring to ME!

Okay, now, I don’t wanna seem like some kind of conceited swimmer-babe here.  But I honestly felt like screaming HALLELUJAH!!!  when I heard this.  Because there are so many frigging thoughtless, never-staying-in-their-lane yahoos at that pool and I always feel like I’m trying my best to be…yes…COURTEOUS…and that finally…FINALLY SOMEBODY IS GIVING ME MY PROPS ABOUT THAT!!!

So that was thrilling.  For about 10 minutes until some other yahoo slammed into me.  But what can ya do.  Grab your thrills where you can, I always say.

                                                            * * * * * *

Anyway, I’ve been ranting about this LISA gal for my last couple of blog-posts and today I’m gonna wrap it up with her. 

So back at the office, and Lisa’s back on the Atkins.  She’s been on the phone all morning ordering what sounds like a freight-load of goodies from OMAHA STEAKS.  (“Didn’t you use to have FILET MIGNON wrapped in CANADIAN BACON?  No?  Are you SURE?  I could SWEAR you used to carry that…Well, I guess just send the steaks then and I’ll have to get the bacon separately.  Dammit…”) 

And here’s what happened next.  She’s apparently all caught up in the important phone call, and a homeless man wandered in off the street.  He shuffles past Rita at the front desk.  Rita was busy on an actual business call and assumed he was a client of Lisa’s.    So the homeless dude pokes his head into Lisa’s doorway and asks her if he can use the bathroom.  And she just nods “yes” and points in the direction of the bathroom.  And he goes in to the LADIES ROOM.    He stays in there for a pretty long time.

Meanwhile, I have no idea any of this is going on.  I’m sitting in my little back office, surfing the web and listening with half an ear to Lisa babbling on the phone. 

But then Rita appears in my doorway, her face ashen.  She really looks sick, almost like she could faint.

Rita: “Lynn.”  Her voice is filled with dread.

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Rita: “Lisa let some homeless man into our Ladies Room.”

Me: “O my god.  What happened.”

Rita: “I don’t know.  I thought he was a patient of hers, but he wasn’t.  He went into our LADIES ROOM…”

Me: “And?…. AND???…”

Rita: “Don’t go in there.”

Me: “WHAT???  IS HE STILL IN THERE?”

Rita: “No, he left.  He was a horrible mess, completely decrepit.  I went to look and…just…don’t go in there.”

Me: “WHAT DID HE DO?”

Rita: “I don’t know, I just opened the door a tiny bit but then I had to slam it quick.  It’s bad, Lynn.  It’s really bad, whatever he did.  It’s…it’s like he had a TOXIC MISCARRIAGE in there or something…”

Me: “OH FOR GOD’S SAKE…What are we supposed to DO now?”

Rita: “Use the MEN’s Room, I guess…”

Me: “And what?  Just leave the Ladies Room door closed FOREVER while whatever is in there festers until it gains momentum and destroys us all???”

Rita just stares at me, wide-eyed, her hands clapped over her mouth. 

“JESUS,” I spew, standing up: “I AM GONNA KILL that idiot LISA!!  I’m gonna make her clean it up, whatEVER the fuck it is…”

Rita: “I think she left.”

I get up to go look for Lisa, but sure enough she’s not around.  She went and slipped out, real sneaky-like. 

I turn in the hallway to look at the closed LADIES ROOM door.  I sure as hell wasn’t gonna open it.  The MENS ROOM would have to do until we sorted out this ungodly mess.

                                                            * * * * * *

That LADIES ROOM door remained closed for another 2 full days before we finally got the gumption to call a cleaning service to come in and exorcise the works.  It wasn’t a matter of laziness or neglect.  We were just horrified at the prospect of calling ANYONE in to have to deal with whatever was behind that door. 

Lisa was chastised about her role in the whole thing, but she steadfastly claimed that she thought the homeless guy was one of our clients.  Which, if you’d ever seen some of our seedier clients, I guess it could be possible.  So anyhow, in a civilized manner, we all agreed it would be fair to split the cost of the cleanup job. 

                                                            * * * * * *

The poor cleanup man who came.  That poor, poor man.   He came in, bright and chipper. Cheerfully telling us that OURS WAS HIS LAST JOB for 2 weeks…that THIS VERY AFTERNOON he would be on an airplane, going to visit his family in Antigua or Barbados some fucking thing.

And all I can say is that he left our office a broken man.  We will never know what had been perpetrated in that LADIES ROOM, what the (once) cheerful cleanup man encountered.  He certainly did not provide us with details.  We tipped him handsomely, but it hardly mattered.  He was broken.

To this day, I pray he enjoyed the best vacation of his life and in addition, has since won the lottery.

                                                            * * * * * * *

On the final day that we were moving out of that office, Lisa comes busting in on me.  I am surrounded by boxes, dismantled computer gear, and deep in the process of emptying my desk.

Lisa: “I HAVE A PATIENT COMING IN LIKE 4 MINUTES, BUT I WILL DIE IF I DON’T GO TO DUNKIN’ FOR A COFFEE.  CAN YOU PLEASE COME UP AT THE FRONT DESK AND WAIT FOR HER WHILE I GET MY COFFEE?”

Me: “No.”

Lisa: “What do you mean?  Just for a minute!”

Me: “No, I can’t do that for you.”

She shuts her mouth for once, looks genuinely puzzled.  I can actually hear her brain:  Is she serious?

I look at her: “I’m busy here.  Take care of your own patients, Lisa.  Take care of your own shit.   Ever think of doing that?”

She pauses for just a moment before huffing out.  And she heads over to DUNKIN’.

I never saw her again after that.   I don’t know if her client ever came or not, because I started blasting AEROSMITH and therefore wouldn’t have heard anything from up front. 

She never even picked up on that fact that we were moving, despite all the boxes and stuff.   She never picked up on much.  

Yeah, it’s certainly a process.  But sooner or later, you start to figure out what’s important.

* * * * * * *

Fickle Life - Pt. 3

I went for an early morning swim today at the Aquatic Center here in Queens.  I’ve gotten pretty hooked on these swim sessions, this marvelous form of moving meditation, if you will. 

But sometimes ya get these other swimmers, they just can’t stay in their lane.  They have no concept of what a lane IS.  To them, it’s just one, big free-for-all of flailing, spastic, grunting, splashing, gasping, what-have-you, motion.  And they’re in your lane.  And they inevitably smash into you.  You TRY like hell to avoid them, but they always manage.  And then they either say SORRY and keep going or they try to pin it on YOU like YOU did something wrong and then everybody gets all pissy like I did today with this one guy. 

But it only lasted for maybe 20 seconds, this back-and-forth: 

Me: “DUDE, stay in your LANE.”

Dude: “I IN LANE.  YOU STOP.”  (the dude was Chinese)

Me: “What?  Stop what?  JUST  STAY  IN  YOUR  FREAKING  LANE, DUDE.”

Dude: “NO.  YOU DUDE.  YOU  STOP.”

So of course I was not gonna get very far with this guy, and I just went to another lane.  And the rest of the swim was nice and mellow.  But the whole thing got me to thinking kinda philosophically about relationships in general, and why we get annoyed a lot of the time…

We get annoyed because many people are spatially challenged.   They don’t respect or even understand the “boundary” thing.  Whether it be in how they speak to other people or how they don’t have the sense or the decency to KEEP YOUR DISTANCE a little, you know?  FEEL THINGS OUT before you get all up in somebody’s B.I. Bidness.  It should be a simple thing, but all too often it’s just not. 

Hey, I’ve been guilty of it, I’m sure.  But you live and you learn these things and some folks are slower on the uptake, which brings me back to LISA, the gal from my last two installments here.

I guess Lisa annoyed me so much because of her lack of boundary awareness.  Constantly talking about her own stupid shit all day long, regardless of whether anybody wanted to hear it or not.  I mean, she was probably just a hapless soul who needed someone to talk to and undoubtedly she annoyed LOTS of people but instead of picking up on the boundary thing, she just went the other way and went all whole-hog with the boring, retarded details of her life until everyone wanted to puke from boredom and brain-deadness.   But be that as it may…

* * * * * *

Lisa charges in to my office one fine day: “I’m going over to PAPA JOHN’S.”

Me: “You off the Atkins?”

Lisa: “NO!  Are you KIDDING?  I lost 10 pounds in 10 days!  I’M DOING GREAT!”

I should interject here that Lisa is not particularly overweight.  She’s a short gal in her early 30’s, of average weight and bodily dimensions.  Not a bombshell or anything.  Just a short, average-built gal.  With one hopelessly whiny, shrill, cloying speaking voice.

I have noticed that she’s lost some weight, tho’.  You can mostly see it in her face, which is looking drawn and she’s sporting some darkish circles under her eyes that are new.  Oddly, you can also see it in her hands.  They look very fragile and vein-y.  I don’t know what makes me notice this, but I do.  She also seems even more jittery and neurotic than usual (if that’s even possible).  And you can smell her breath from clear across the room. 

Me: “So you’re just going to torture yourself by smelling the pizza?”

Lisa: “NO!  I’m gonna order 3 slices and JUST EAT THE CHEESE AND THE SAUCE!  I DON’T KNOW WHY I DIDN’T THINK OF THIS SOONER!”

Me: “Eureka!”

Lisa: “AND I’m gonna get pepperoni and sausage and MEATBALLS and EXTRA CHEESE, even.  Because I can have as much of THOSE as I want!  I LOVE this diet!”

Me: “I know you do, Lisa.  I can hear it in your voice.”

Lisa: “So DO YOU want the CRUSTS?”

Me: “What?”

Lisa: “I’ll bring you the crust parts after I scrape the cheese off!”

Instead of saying: Fuck you, Lisa (my first inclination) I say: “Hey, I’m gonna pass on that.  But thanks!”

Lisa: “O, COME ON!  I don’t want to WASTE IT!”

Again, sooooo close to a Fuck you, Lisa, but instead: “Then give it to pigeons on the sidewalk.”

Lisa: “Should I?  Or maybe Rita wants them?” 

Me: “Yeah, that’s a great idea.  Go ask Rita.”

Turns out Rita didn’t want the crusts, either.  Shocker. 

                                                                        * * * * * *

But anyhow, things get hectic at work and I forget about Lisa’s big PAPA  JOHN  PLAN.  That is until I am passing by her little office on my way to the bathroom.  I glance in to see Lisa sitting at her desk despondently gnawing on a Snickers Bar of all things.

I cannot resist: “Hey, what’s this - a Snickers Bar?  Ole’ Doc Atkins getting a little bit relaxed with his program or what?

Lisa: “Please.  It’s gonna take me a whole ‘nother week to go back into ketosis.  WHY DID THEY HAVE TO OPEN THAT GODDAMN PAPA JOHN’S.  GOD DAMN THEM.  AND I HAVE SUCH A BAD HEADACHE.  DAMN IT.”

Apparently, the pigeons also turned down THE CRUSTS because she ended up eating all three pizza slices in their entirety and then chasing those down with not one but two Snickers Bars.  

I remember trying that Atkins Diet once.  Years ago.  I was on it for about 3 weeks, actually, and I did lose some weight.  But the whole time I felt like somebody was tightening a giant rubber band around my forehead and I was horribly aware of my breath stinking to high heaven from that ketosis jazz and after back-sliding on 3 or 4 saltines I slowly gained everything I lost back and then some.   

So I can definitely relate to that headache thing.

To be continued…

* * * * * *

Fickle Life - Pt. 2

Boy, Halloween was a real bust around here this year.  Terrible-to-non-existent costumes, lackluster children, many of whom bordered on dirt-bag adulthood.  My favorite holiday really took a dive this year, at least in the trick-or-treat department.   But I don’t care.  Me and my peeps still had a really, really good one.  You just can’t ruin that day for me.

So speaking of SCARY - where I left off on this blog thing, I was sort of tee-ing off about that audiologist chick Lisa from my last office gig.   That oblivious idiot.   The one who neglected her poor, deaf, elderly clientele and who only cared about her daily fast-food jaunts.  Oh, and the Atkins Diet.  At some point she became manically obsessed with the Atkins Diet but I’ll get to that later…

And I have no idea why this broad needed to commute from Jersey like a lunatic nearly every day to come to this crappy little room she rented at our place.  Her husband owned a car dealership, for chrissake.  They were apparently loaded.  So it’s like she just needed to get out and keep busy and drive all day long, and eat fast food 3 hours away from home for some reason.  Lunatic. 

She also had this nasty little daughter who she brought to the office with her every once in awhile.  This was the nastiest little bitch-child you ever met.  And she was only like 3 years old!  I didn’t know 3-year-olds could be so horrible, but she was definitely one of those bad seed types you hear about.  Granted, she had a horrible mother-figure as an example, but she was really over the top.

So you’d hear, (loud from the hallway because they were both loud) Lisa talking to this kid:

Lisa: “Honey, don’t touch that machine.  That’s mommy’s SPECIAL HEARING MACHINE…”

Devil Child: “I’m just LOOKING AT IT.”

Lisa (after a long pause and some suspicious rattling/clanking noises): “Honey…please don’t do that.  Why don’t you play with the new Barbie I bought you this morning?”

Devil Child: “I don’t WANT the stupid BARBIE.  She’s UGLY.  I’m PLAYING WITH  THIS…”

    Or….

Lisa: “Honey, do you want some chocolate milk from DUNKIN’ DONUTS?  Should mommy go get you some?” 

Devil Child (roaring, pounding the desk): “GET ME SOME NOW.”

Lisa:  “Okay, honey.  But do you want hot cocoa or regular chocolate milk?”

Devil Child (hissing like a demon): “JUST GET ME SOME NOW.  NOW, MOMMY. NOW.”

Lisa: “Okay, honey.”

I guess this was the basic child-rearing protocol in that family or something: The Insane, Disgustingly Disrespectful Method, and this kid was right on board with the program. 

Next in line on the bitch-train and passing with flying colors.

                                                * * * * * *

One day Lisa comes busting in to my office.  She’s got some big news.

Lisa:  “I’m sooooooo pissed off!  They’re opening a PAPA JOHN’s across the street!”

Me: “You hate pizza or what?” I don’t even look up from my computer.  These tirades are typical.

Lisa: “NO!  I LOVE pizza! But I started THE ATKINS DIET THIS WEEK!”

Me: “Oh, right.  No bread.” 

Lisa: “Well, I don’t care.  You know what I’m gonna do?  I’m LEAVING WORK EARLY and STOPPING ON MY WAY HOME to pick up some LOBSTER TAILS and BUTTER.  On the Atkins Diet, you can eat as much lobster and butter as you want.  You can have like FOUR TAILS if you’re that hungry.  And a WHOLE STICK OF BUTTER...I don’t care.  I’ll eat a whole stick if it comes to that.”

Me: “That’s showin’ ‘em Lisa.”

Lisa: “But I still can’t believe they’re OPENING A PAPA JOHN’S  THIS WEEK OF ALL WEEKS!!!  I’M SO DEPRESSED!”

Me: “Try to be strong.”

Lisa: “But you know what ELSE?  THAT’S NOT EVEN THE WORST OF IT…”

Me: “Wow, really?”

Lisa: “REALLY!!  My LANDSCAPER doesn’t have the TREES that I want put into my front walkway at home.  I ordered SIX of these GORGEOUS TREES…I don’t remember what they’re called…but they’re NOT AVAILABLE until NEXT MONTH.  And we’re throwing a HUGE PARTY FOR MY DAUGHTER NEXT WEEK because she’s GRADUATING NURSERY SCHOOL.   How the HELL can I throw a party without these trees?  I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO.  DAMMIT, WHY IS ALL OF THIS HAPPENING TO ME??  WHY NOW?  WHY MEEEEEEEEEEE?”

Me: “You can’t question these things, Lisa.  You just have to hang in there and pray that life will improve at some point.”

                                    To be continued…  * * * * * *