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so g. stood on line friday morning for us to see hair together. i have no idea what time he left. i was still sleeping. and i meant to get up to wash the towels that were drowned in dog pee, but that never happened. the girls and i did manage to see our friend's art exhibit before it closed. and i did manage to get a package to the post office that had been sitting in the apartment for three weeks. and then after finally thinking of something for everyone to eat for dinner, g. and i ran off to the delacorte. it started to rain a little, but thankfully stopped. this was the second time i've seen it (my good friend j. stood in line also. it was a special birthday gift . . thank you!), and though the initial shock of being there was a little less, the enjoyment was just the same. i'm so happy to finally know the story line between the songs as i listened to my sister's album over and over when growing up. the play captures well the awkwardness of youth (amongst other things!) and the music is so uplifting. in this production they invite the audience to come onstage at the end and dance, which is just . . FUN! what a way to end a play. (did they do that in 1968? i'm not sure.) it's so joyous and astounding to be on stage at the delacorte with those wondrous musicians and actors singing "let the sunshine in." you can read the ny times reviews here and here. i know it's sad that we are still in the same situation with the war in iraq, but it's good that we currently do not have a draft, and congress did vote on the war (hmmm), and protestors were not fired upon (though now, unfortunately, we do have homeland insecurity playing big brother). a few small steps forward? maybe we're all growing up and becoming a little more tolerant and civilized, (or better at communicating?) . . and still having fun dancing to HAIR!!!!
my body is walking in space, my soul is in orbit with god face to face, floating, flipping, flying, tripping . . walking in space we find the purpose of peace, the beauty of life you can no longer hide. our eyes are open, our eyes are open, our eyes are open, our eyes are open. wide. wide. wide.
from hair, book and lyrics by james rado and gerome ragni, music by galt macdermot
"where do i go, follow the river. where do i go, follow the gulls. where is the something, where is the someone, that tells me why i live and die.where do i go, follow the children. where do i go, follow their smiles. is there an answer in their sweet faces, that tells me why i live and die. follow the wind song, follow the thunder, follow the neon in young lovers eyes, down to the gutter, up to the glitter, into the city, where the truth lies. where do i go, follow my heartbeat, where do i go, follow my hand. where will they lead me, and will i ever, discover why i live and die. why do i live. why do i die. tell my why, tell me where, tell me why, tell me why."
from hair, book and lyrics by james rado and gerome ragni, music by galt macdermot
after feeding the hair survivors breakfast, m. and c. and i threw our bathing suits and towels into a bag, packed a quick lunch, and drove out to rockaway. (it took awhile to get on the road. we had to first document an erroneous parking ticket so it could be battled in court).
the weather today was amazing. the sky and horizon were incredibly clear. the dryness in the air felt like autumn, but it was balmy, not cool. and the beach was beautiful. the sun felt so warm when lying on the towel in the sand. we arrived late in the day, so i wasn't worried about sunburn, and there weren't any strong shadows which allowed the colors in the photos to appear vibrant and true. the shoreline extended more onto the beach, so there was less of a drop off and we could walk further out into the sea. yes, there were jelly fish, but if you didn't wear your eyeglasses when swimming you didn't even know they were there (unless your 12 year old daughter kept yelling "there's millions of tiny ones . . and there's a big one YUCK! RUN! and of course you would also know they were there if you just happened to get stung . .).
k. and her friends have been to hair 3 or 4 times. g. started it all a few weeks ago when it was in previews by waiting on line for tickets. everyone loves the show so much that the public theatre has extended the run into september. it was supposed to close this weekend.
so there are four teenagers sleeping over and they are all jazzed up from the show. it's about 2 am now. i don't know if they will ever go to sleep! k. had to go again so she could dance on the delacorte stage, which she hadn't done for her first two visits. (and dancing on that stage is really the best!)
it's m.'s project for her friend's birthday. she got the idea from the cover photo of 25 bags to knit by emma king. the yarn is lamb's pride in periwinkle, and . . i don't know! the grey yarn is a skein she rescued from the sale bin at the yarn company. it was a good deal. six dollars. we bought two skeins and she never even touched the second. the material is my contribution. i'll sew a lining for the bag. right now m. is cavorting at the beach, which i really should be doing also.
i don't know how i got started doing this. i was vacuuming the kitchen when i decided to vacuum out the pot cover drawer underneath the oven. when i opened the drawer i suddenly realized i could pull the whole drawer out and rescue the spatula that fell behind the stove a year ago. how is it that these brainstorms come on? does a fog in the mind suddenly clear? maybe the way i was bending down shifted some dust in a corner? and then after rescuing the spatula i couldn't leave the dirt. it was so disgusting. gag worthy disgusting. was it left over from the prior tenants? or was it all our own lovely dirt? and this job was not on my list of things to do. i hate that. major chore accomplished but the list is no
shorter. it does not make for a great day.
i spent the reminder of the morning straightening out the closet. only a small bag got trashed, but at least i now know what is IN the closet! (i tell you, it's not good when you don't know what's in your closet).
for the past few days i just have not known what to write. nothing seems profound enough, pertinent enough, funny enough . . i read an article this morning in this week's new yorker magazine by john adams, called "sonic youth." it was one of the most amazing articles about the artistic process i've ever read. i'm in awe of adams' analysis of his artistic influences and growth. every time i watch my daughters dance and the music washes over me i'm consumed with the emotion of their piece. and then the music stops and with it recedes the higher ground. i continue with smaller, more mundane tasks. after reading adams' article i have to ask myself . . where is my path? where is my growth? what am i going to do? what is my art? what and where is my creativity? sometimes it's in the littlest things . . . . that there seems to be an aesthetic purpose . . even in the lopsided piles of books and files alongside the bed. and i don't think of my knitting as my art . . even though it is . . but it's really just an outlet, or a stop-gap . . i'm just confused with what paths to take, and i also procrastinate. time consumes me and leaves me a fish on the sand. and where are the little ones? i miss the little ones, the magic of the little ones. their wee ways last only so long, even though you guide the magic through. or try to.
xena actually went up into the loft for the first time in months yesterday. her left hind leg no longer allows her to jump well, so she rarely goes up. however, yesterday she must have found some extra bounce.
after talking with the vet we now know that she has a mastcell tumor, a kind that rarely metastasizes. the vet, of course, recommended surgically removing it, but since the surgery would cost $1000 it won't be happening anytime soon. sadly. unfortunately. or maybe all for the good. i'll try some alternative therapies, when i find out what they are . .
this knitting pattern really has me stumped and is awfully dull.
but this note reading is very interesting.
persistent and consistent
we leave tomorrow for a week at my mom and dad's. jack always plants himself by the bags and suitcases. he won't let us forget him, if he has anything to say about it.
so g. stood on line friday morning for us to see hair together. i have no idea what time he left. i was still sleeping. and i meant to get up to wash the towels that were drowned in dog pee, but that never happened. the girls and i did manage to see our friend's art exhibit before it closed. and i did manage to get a package to the post office that had been sitting in the apartment for three weeks. and then after finally thinking of something for everyone to eat for dinner, g. and i ran off to the delacorte. it started to rain a little, but thankfully stopped. this was the second time i've seen it (my good friend j. stood in line also. it was a special birthday gift . . thank you!), and though the initial shock of being there was a little less, the enjoyment was just the same. i'm so happy to finally know the story line between the songs as i listened to my sister's album over and over when growing up. the play captures well the awkwardness of youth (amongst other things!) and the music is so uplifting. in this production they invite the audience to come onstage at the end and dance, which is just . . FUN! what a way to end a play. (did they do that in 1968? i'm not sure.) it's so joyous and astounding to be on stage at the delacorte with those wondrous musicians and actors singing "let the sunshine in." you can read the ny times reviews here and here. i know it's sad that we are still in the same situation with the war in iraq, but it's good that we currently do not have a draft, and congress did vote on the war (hmmm), and protestors were not fired upon (though now, unfortunately, we do have homeland insecurity playing big brother). a few small steps forward? maybe we're all growing up and becoming a little more tolerant and civilized, (or better at communicating?) . . and still having fun dancing to HAIR!!!!
