Red Squirrel in the Morning

"Red squirrel in evening,
Red squirrel in the morning,
I'm coming to take you home...."
from Sun It Rises by Fleet Foxes

Sometimes I'm a little late. Sometimes I arrive hands wide open and wandering. Sometimes I turn and finally notice. Sorry it took so long.

These summer days have been long. I'm thankful that the weather has grown slightly cooler. I'm glad that the busy part of this season is over and we can finally enjoy a few weeks of quiet recreation and rest.

After James arrived home from the Vermont workshop, we packed up the car and set off for NYC. I was worried that such a big trip might add to the stresses of the Summer (workshop, broken toe, general hot season MS fatigue) but I think we both found the adventure rejuvenating. Two of our closest friends, Will and Amber, played host and guide for our very first visit to New York. We waited in the sauna-like subway, saw our first city rats, wandered the streets of Chinatown and Greenwich Village, pillaged Yogurtland, shopped in Soho, searched through the stacks in the Strand. The Strand is extraordinary and overwhelming. I found an out-of-print Nancy Mitford novel, Don't Tell Alfred. James wandered a bit, eyes large, taking it all in. It was a bit like the first time we reached the upper room of the Ohio Bookstore. We could have stayed there for hours...but we needed more coffee.

The Antlers CD release for Hospice was that Friday night at the Mercury Lounge on the Lower East Side. The show was incredible. I love the record. The narrative of the record is so powerful and I was unsure if they would be able to replicate that on stage, to interpret something so beautiful in a live (and uncomfortably hot) setting. I should never have had a doubt. They pulled it off beautifully.




Upcoming Events...happening in the near future...as in the next two days:

Tomorrow evening there will be a poetry reading at Sidewinder Coffee in Northside featuring several poets including but not limited to: Kristi Maxwell and Mitch Raney.

Saturday:
There will be a free performance of As You Like it at Eden Park.

Poet Matt Hart is reuniting with his band and playing in the front parlour of the Southgate House? That's the rumour, Kids. We'll be there to see if it's true.

Also, later in the evening we may stop by the Freddie Mercury Birthday Bash at Grammers.

"All I Do is Dream of You" by Arthur Freed

I wish that I could express to you the strange and wonderful contentment that I get from from listening to Gene Kelly’s quiet croon send this sweet song into a cloud. Nothing at all like the flash and jump version from the party scene in SINGING IN THE RAIN. It was one of the many surprises that I found in the EMI Music Resource : THE STANDARDS. Amber gave this collection back to me before she left for New York. I can truthfully say that I am glad she held onto it for a while. During it’s furlough, I learned to truly appreciate it. For the last 9 months, I’ve been stumbling happily through a rather large catalogue of Hollywood musicals (thank you Netflix), and pulling Jim kicking and screaming all the way...well maybe not kicking and screaming. He loves Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly, enjoys a good Stanley Donen or George Stevens musical, and the Gershwin, Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields, and Arthur Freed songs keep bringing smile after smile to his handsomely bearded face. In the midst of this whirlwind of song and dance, I picked up a colleciton of Astaire recordings. I listened to it so much that the words of the silliest tap-dancingest songs stuck in my head for days and days. I listened to it at home, at work in the Cancer Center, in my car. I couldn’t stop. I found my feet tapping along under the covers when I listened to it in bed. I’ve always thought my life a musical filled with these sorts of songs. No one bursts into them in front of me, but Jim can tell you that I definitely burst into them enough for everyone else. The constant flow of Musicals in the mail and the Astaire collection prepared me for the gem that I was returned to me a couple of weeks ago. The Standards... Frank Sinatra? Of course. Dean Martin. Yep. Billie Holliday, Cab Calloway, Mario Lanza, Mel Torma, Ella, Nat King Cole, Tony Bennett...yes. But oh...Sarah Vaughn...Bea Wain with Larry Clinton and his Orchestra....Kitty Kallen...a little bit of Fats Waller...

Awesome. Total Awesomeness.

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I report to Brookwood Hospital for a short stay. A few days really. For any of you who’ve been missing me at the old St. Vincent’s ER, I’’ve missed you too. I’m in the midst of a relapse. They found some dark spots on my spinal cord. Travmo has suggested that I just get it whitened. Just line up some of those Crest Whitening strips down my back and I’m set. Unfortunately, MS doesn’t work that way. I’ve just got to work through the flare up. The steroid infusion that I’m going to get will help me do it. As is usual with Multiple Sclerosis, there’s no telling what caused the exacerbation, whether it was stress or a seasonal illness set it off. I think that it was the egg sandwich that I got from Whataburger on my way home from the Vulture Whale show a week or so ago. Jim doesn’t quite buy that one.

So. Email me. Call me. Come by. Whatever. Let me know how you’re doing. I’ve spent a good week staring at the TV (mostly TCM, but a little bit of Bravo) (What is up with those Housewives of NYC? Could we not just give them Southern Accents, some Vicoden, and send them to Seaside and say that they are the Housewives of Mountain Brook?) (Dude, Bravo would save like a THIRD in production costs doing that show here.)
As you can see, I’ll be ready for a few friendly faces and some good conversation and you can check out my new Whale patterned PJs. They’re awesome.

Love you!