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Sunday, Sept. 28, 2003 / 6:03 p.m. ~They're All Named John~ I was up all night last night, which only makes sense since I slept all day. It was a very backwards experience, and not unenjoyable. I watched "Boys Night Out", starring the sultry Kim Novak, and the not too shabby James Garner, circa 1962, and the episode of "Queer Eye For the Straight Guy" from last Tuesday, which I absolutely forgot to watch Tuesday. I kept thinking, "Something else is on, but I can't remember what" - early senility. How very strange that show can be, but how loudly I can laugh. It startles the cats, it startles me, it's hard to believe I have that laugh inside of me. That show is hilarious, truly. I think it was watching the straight guy, the poor misguided sap, wiping his sweat with the dish towel, then the plate, with the same towel, and listening to the gay mens' reactions. The editing, the gasping, the wiping, I was about to fall over. And then the Paul McCartney in Red Square concert on A&E. Touching, very heartfelt, had me close to tears. The music of the Beatles, and Paul McCartney, means so very much to me as well. It took me back, and forward and around again, and I got lost in nostalgia, my own experience, as an 8 year old, playing my sister's copy of "Magical Mystery Tour" in the bedroom we shared. Or watching the documentaries on TV, on them, the Beatles, or "Help", or "A Hard Day's Night", or listening to Paul's first solo album, staring at those pictures of him and Linda and their dog and sheep and children, thinking how beautiful and in love they seemed. And now, with Heather, wondering which leg is it that is artificial, unable to stop thinking about it as I watched her walk, and ride a bike, and clutch Paul's arm as they met with Russian dignitaries, retired and active. Then online, and running into Nelson, and Nelson calling me on the phone, and feeling so far removed, and realizing it's because too much time passes between our talks, and I know he's with women, and he won't talk about it, yet he asks me, "Are you dating? Are you going out? What's new? So what have you been doing?", in that Scorpio 'draw it all out of me but don't tell me a thing about you' sort of way of his. That I hate. And he says he'll always have me in his life, he'll always feel he can call, that I'll always stimulate him, challenge him, with my conversation, how he admires me for my protesting, how I can change if I want, if I want a circle of friends I can find one. And I think how he once meant something to me, but he's let it all go, and I can't sustain it if he's not going to keep it up. He says going to see "Aida" was not a 'date', but what then? He's young, he's 29, he's dating, it's fine, he's having sex, he won't say, but how can he not? It's okay, but the evasiveness is too little for me. Or too much. And then I recorded AudBlogs, three of them, for my LiveJournal, me reading limericks, and talking, and thinking aloud, to no comments at all over there, typically enough. I put myself out there and I get nothing. LiveJournal is such an empty experience. But I'll have those recordings, they're mine. Then today, after staying up past 6:00 this morning, getting up at noon, and the weather is the most beautiful it's ever been, the air is so clean and clear, the sky so blue, the wind so strong at times, and all the foliage so late green, so dried green, so Autumn green, and wispy white puffs of clouds, and I tried to capture it on my digital camera, but it didn't do it justice. I shopped briefly, just a few things, and found shiitakes two for one at Publix, packages thereof, and I cooked Italian sausages, broken up, uncased, with white mushrooms and shiitakes and yellow squash and green onions, a clove of garlic, and some wine to add moisture, and it was simple and good, and I have a lot left, to serve over pasta perhaps, and I drank wine, and I've been watching my soap on tape, and the porch is wide open, but the neurotic cats won't even go out there. Neurotic old cats. And I had fans on, but had to turn them off, it's getting cool. Yahoo! says it will get down to 46 tonight, and this is damned cool. Cold even. I haven't done laundry, but I don't care, there's always something to wear in my closet, and I look good today, my skin has cleared a bit, I'm not so ruddy, so red, I took a picture of me, but it didn't do me justice. And I'm wearing my new Modern Humorist baseball tshirt I bought online, and I really like it, the "When you pirate MP3s, You're downloading COMMUNISM" shirt. I wore it to Publix, but I don't know if anyone saw. And the guy from Yahoo!, the guy with all the profiles, has written me more email, and I don't know what to think of him yet. I'm flattered to have the attention, anyone would be, but I don't plan or hope for anything anymore. I've seen his picture and I'm not terribly attracted. I'd like to see someone and be blown away, you know? And find that he's blown away by me too. This is the ultimate, I've had it, I know. I won't settle. My horoscope says I should list my recent regrets in my journal, but why? I have none, I can't go back. Would I have played it all differently, knowing what I know now? Sure, who wouldn't? A little differently, at least, but that's not how life is lived. We make mistakes, we grow, hopefully, and we learn, and that's that. I've got more shows to watch, and I might watch the blues show on PBS, though I just read the EW review that is not so hot. And I need to write back to the Yahoo! guy. His name is John. Another John. Aren't they all named John after a while? I want to record an AudBlog for Bathsheba's baby, but we'll see about that. I'm thinking of what I want to play, but I'm sure she already has plenty of music for him. Cost of the War in Iraq
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