Friday, June 24, 2005

Friday - alone

It was fun. That's the bottom line. Fun! I sent Rolf and SMJ (straight man Joe) off to see Dinner With Friends which I saw last Sunday. (There was supposed to be another showing last night, Thursday, but I had rehearsal so, I went Sunday. Rolf planned on going last night, but, it turns out they didn't have a Thursday night show because the weekend hadn’t sold out, which is a huge shame because it is a wonderful show, so Rolf had to go tonight.) And I just had to go see the Drummer (my drummer?) tonight.

Rolf and I, along with SMJ and BME, live on Lake Accotink in Springfield Va. We're in the Metropolitan DC area, and it's sooooo nice. (However! Now that the Supreme Court has ruled that "Eminent Domain" can apply for financial reasons of the state, I must say that "Location Location Location" now equals "Risk, Risk, Risk!" Ooooh that pisses me off!)

d'Ohgy (D.O.G) and I went down to the marina for the City of Fairfax Band Sunset Concert. (A 120 member symphonic wind ensemble.) It was l.o.v.e.l.y. I said "Hi" to my friend the drummer, and laid out a towel on the upside of the pavilion. The orchestra was actually facing away from me, but I could see through the pavilion over their heads and watch children playing on the beach, birds diving into the lake (which more accuratly is a pond, and we call it "Our Little Mud Puddle".) It was georgeous.

d'Ohgy was a hoot. She got all up in my face, she was shedding like a, I don't know, a shepherd? And she's a greyhound, so she doesn't usually shed unless she's nervous. I got her to lay down, but she'd get back up and stick her head under my chin time and time again. Now, there were 30 people sitting behind me, so this "affection" she was showing me just made me laugh. The band started to play, there must have been 50 pieces, with drums and timpani. Well, d'Ohgy didn't like it. She was, now she's a big girl, she was trying to get in my lap, even though I'm sitting on a towel, Indian style, reading a book and smoking a cigarette. Many times I got her to lay down, but after about halfway through the concert, sometime after the Judy Garland Medley, she got up from being in my lap, mostly, and went to sit down, so I thought, and took a shit right there not 8 inches away from my knee!

It really was funny. Even if I was laughing more to hide my embarassment from the people behind us. Yeah. They'd begun playing, oh, those tunes that go so well with fireworks? Army marching band stuff, lots of cymbals. Umm hmm, and d'Ohgy was so expecting a clap of thunder, or worse, fireworks, that it scared the shit right out of her.

I took her for a little walk, throwing the shit away on the way. After we'd made it around the pavilion, down to the beach, then back up around the other side of the pavilion, we just stood in the back and watched a beautiful sunset. The Orchestra, symphony. . whatever, was playing the patriotic tunes. . the armed services medley, then "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" the version all you choir boys would know so well. I tried to sing along, but damn, it was just so perfect, clear hot summer night, kids playing, fabulous sunset, great musicianship. . . well try as I might, my throat just closed up and sent all it's extra moisture out through my eyeballs. I did sing the last chorus though. It sent my mind back to high school, with the concert choir singing the very same arrangement behind the concert orchestra for the one and only time. "What about the cut offs?!" someone had asked. And we agreed amongst ourselves that we were going to hold the last note through it all. We didn't know the orchestra conductor, and she didn't know us. I remember all of us on stage, singing as loud as we possibly could, and being pretty sure that no one could hear us because the orchestra was so loud. As we sang the final phrase, "The Truth is Marching ON," the orchestra hit their punctuating chords, again and again, with silence expected between each one, but we held our notes, we held them long and loud. And the conductor was shocked, and thrilled.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Here We Go Again

Well, vacation at Rehoboth was just what I needed. It was really wonderful, and the depression lifted. I was happily looking forward to getting home and getting a new job. Got to work early even, and made a good appearance at the board meeting. . .and then nothing. By the end of the day, just as depressed as I had been before. I'm going to have to get help. Drugs and talk therapy. Therapy is going to have to be during the week, and my therapist is in Reston. So, I don't know how to handle getting out of work every week for a meeting. Getting an appointment at lunch time may prove difficult. And then, of course, what do I say to the boss? Somehow announcing that I'm a suicidal alcoholic doesn't sound like a good career move.

I took a nice walk with d'Ohgy this morning. I'm trying to get more exercise to help with the depression and to lose weight. It was very nice to get up early, enjoy the summer morning, and make it to work on time. Rehearsals start again tonight for me.

I'm going to start applying for jobs this week, and also set up a counciling appointment. Wish me luck!

Thanks.
Vig

Friday, June 10, 2005

Vacation!

Oh thank gawd. The work is done, no rehearsals for a week, and I'm going to the beach! Yay! I hope you have a wonderful summer. I'll talk at you next week.
Blue Moon, Here I come!
Vig

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Grateful

When I pulled in to the Day Labor Site, a hundred men swarmed my car, creating a frightening vision of paparazzi stalking this princess. Four desperate men opened the back door of the car and crammed into the back seat, before I even had a chance to make an offer. I made them get out. As I have now done, I was to leave them them with my friend K. who is 58, single, female, and is being evicted this morning. I was trying to be certain that I was comfortable with them. There's a coordinator there, Tony, just one for the hundred of men still there at 7:30am. He helped me. I told him I was looking for bi-lingual men to help with a rush move, no furniture.
"Excuse me, sir, may I go with you?" (hmmm. . . new plans going on . . momentarily.)
"Yes!"
His name is Fernando. Nice young beautiful man. Still, Tony saying:

"Sir, sir! do you want these men?" indicating the 4 now crowded in my back seat.

"No", I said. "None of them."

Order, I needed some order. As I explain to Fernando what the deal is, Tony is insisting that the four get out of my car, the other hundred are tapping on the windshield or pushing up to the driver's window pleading

"me? me? me?"

I can still see their eyes.

They were small men, the ones who had pushed through into the back seat. They didn't speak English, and they needed the job. Tony kept confirming that I wanted them out, and telling them I hadn't changed my mind while I negotiated with Fernando (and thought about getting his phone number.) In the matter of seconds upon hearing him ask if he could go with me, noticing his grooming and professional manner, perfect English, not to mention big shoulders and beautiful face; I had decided that he was my foreman. I was offering $50 each, he wanted to negotiate for $70, I said

"No, she can't afford that."

The clamor of window tapping and plea's closed in. Tony asks me who I want to go with me, I said I needed two more bi-lingual men.

"This one? This one?"

"How about $70, we should do it for $70"

"Hey meester, me? Me? I go?"

"Fine. $70. You - and you."

"That's my friend, I work with him."

"No, I've already selected. It's done."

I hope they don't freak out when the police show up to throw K. out. She'll need them to stick with her to unload to the storage unit. She's given up trying to make a dignified exit, and is now just trying to get most of the things she needs. She got all the furniture out, but everything else is a huge jumble. It's what happens to a pack-rat when there's an explosion.

Rolf and I were there to help her last night. We didn't do much. I packed her music, and went through a closet packed with binders, books, and financial records, to make sure I'd gotten all the music and theater material out. All the rest will be trashed. Rolf dealt with her computer, packing up wires and what else, I don't know. And K. talked. She talked so much, slowed us down so much it was alarming. K. had sent out a desperate email to many friends asking for last minute help. Two others showed up. Laborers from her job had been volunteering and helping her out. All the furniture was in storage.

Here's the email she sent:

Hi, everyone!

Well, I'm being evicted from my apartment at 10:00 tomorrow morning (Tuesday, 6/7) and I don't have everything out. Two guys from where I'm working (who helped me for a long time yesterday) were going to come back today after work but they just called to say they can't come! I have a storage space and am desperately trying to get everything I want to keep OUT of here. And you know I'm a packrat! I've gotten rid of a lot of furniture, but there are some things, including my show music collection, I can't risk to lose. AND it's going to rain! If ANY of you could come for even an hour this evening - or even tonight - I would appreciate it more than I can say! There may be some things here you'd like to have ... or maybe you'd just be willing to help me move stuff out! One thing these guys were going to help me move was my PIANO. It's a spinet, so not the heaviest piano in the world, but I have that flight of stairs ...Help help help - any of you! Please call me to let me know if you could come to carry even one load of stuff down to my borrowed truck!

Thank you!

K.

When we got there, the men from her job had showed up after all and moved the piano and the last of the furniture for her. She hadn't gotten the truck. She thought she could get it in the evening, and it turned out that they were closed when she was ready for it. So she had to get that this morning too. It was our idea that we get the day laborers. I hope they don't rape her or beat her up. One of the men is too desperate, and I'm afraid. She's not alone. I hope. I think a neighbor is with her now, although she wasn't when I left. She didn't have boxes either. I went to Safeway for boxes, they didn't have any. I got what I could and went back to the apartment and she was still there not having left for the truck, and it was almost 8, and she is freaked out. Then I went to Harris Teeter (grocery store) for boxes.

"I'm trying to help out a really nice lady who's being evicted this
morning. Could you please help me by giving me boxes? We are
really desperate."

I took the little I could get, then went through the store looking for more. Success! I found a cart full of large boxes that tortilla chips had come in. Later, as I unpacked them from my car, I found the men packing boxes and taping them shut with duct tape. K. had gone to get the truck. It was 8:20, eviction is at 10. I drove up the road looking for her, and found her at a gas station/ garage where she was picking up the truck. I stayed until I was sure there wasn't going to be a problem with her credit preventing her from getting the truck, and then I gave her a kiss and a hug and left.

And I have depression. By what fucking right am I ever anything less than ecstatic about my charmed life? By what fucking right?!

Sunday, June 05, 2005

Liza is not dead! Damnit.

Ramblings on being drunk 6 nights out of 7.

Shakespeare finals were last Sunday, Memorial Day Weekend. It was a busy weekend, with early rehearsals, plus helping my sister, Joy, settle in to her new townhouse. I made it to the Studio Theatre for a pre-show rehearsal, then the final scenes were at 7:45. There were only 8 people in my class, so we were done pretty early. However, finals are followed by a recap, usually coupled with a potluck. That’s where we find out if we’d met the requirements or not. Most everyone did. I’m approved to go on to the Greek Studies class, once I complete an Improvisation class. I don’t know when I’ll get around to that. I really need a break, so once Tommy is done I’m taking the Fall off. I might do it in the winter or spring. We’ll see. Joy Zinoman is the founding director of the Studio Theatre, and was also the instructor for the Shakespeare class. It was all very good, even though one back-handed compliment included the knock that although I work very hard, teaching me is similar to teaching “an old dog new tricks.” Wow. I was really feeling old.

I had a beer at the pot-luck, and I nursed it for an hour and a half. Once I got my results, I switched to bourbon. As I reached for the bottle on the table, one of the girly girls, said I could have her bourbon. She didn’t like it, and she had poured herself 4 fingers full, neat. “Just the one,” I promised myself. Then just one more. I poured it myself, and was just 1 finger, neat. Soon after, now after mid-night, we wrapped up and cleaned the party up. I wanted to finish my drink before we left, but someone had thrown it out. All that remained was the other girly girls 4 fingers of bourbon. Peter asked if anyone was going to Arlington. I said I was, if he’d drive. He said yes, and I downed the bourbon in two gulps. By the time we got to his apartment, I was talking a mile a minute about directing Ruthless! The Musical. I dropped him off and stopped in to use the restroom, chatted a mile a minute with the desk clerk about her experiences working in the local film industry, and then went outside and had a smoke before getting on the road to head home. I was sitting on a bench, and when I got up to throw my smoke away, I stumbled. I didn’t know what to do. I was very afraid of Sobriety Check Points, as it was the Memorial Day weekend, and I knew I’d had too much to pass, but I thought I was ok to drive anyway. I decided to go to the International House of Pancakes and get some breakfast and sober up.

“Hey, honey. Can I have a little ciggy?” a big man asked. “You don’t even know me, and you’re calling me “Honey?”” I said, as I looked at him and noticed his huge stomach was actually huge tits. She said her name was Lynn. I put my cigarettes on the table, and told her to help herself. “I’m just here for a diet coke,” she said. She knew Brad the waiter and Lee the manager by name, “Brad honey. . .I just need a diet coke.” It’s 2 in the morning. Odd that someone would be in IHOP just for a diet coke at that hour, and bumming cigarettes off a stranger. I bet she was homeless. Desperate, drugged out? “I don’t know which way you hang, but some of my fag friends said that Liza Minnelli hasn’t been found in two months and if they don’t find her in 90 days, they’re going to declare her dead and pay out the insurance policy to that jerk ex-husband of hers, David Gest.” Well, that sent my head spinning. I was mad. As I questioned her, and was vicious about hearing that kind of unfounded rumor, I realized I just wanted to be at home. But I couldn’t drive. I was very very drunk. So I called home again. This time I told Rolf to come get me. And we left my car at the IHOP. I tossed 3 cigarettes at Lynn as I left, but did not say goodbye.

Monday sucked, only in that I was hung over and had only 4 hours of sleep. Oh, and totally embarrassed that I had gotten drunk and couldn’t get home by myself. Rolf was sweet when he came to pick me up. He said he wasn’t mad that I called him, only that I had decided to drink that much. None-the-less, we had a nice day together. We did a lot of house and yard work, and I made him a very nice dinner.

I’m still ashamed of myself. I am sorry to say that I didn’t quit drinking right there and then. I know I had beer and wine on Monday. I wouldn’t drink on Tuesday, I thought, because I’d be busy with work and rehearsal so I wouldn’t have time. But I ended up not having rehearsal Tuesday night. And I sat outside with a magazine and watched the people in the park while I had a beer. I don’t know how much I had.

Wednesday was a worry. I was going to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Carter Baron Amphitheatre with an acquaintance, who I knew was a very responsible drinker. On one hand, I was afraid that he wouldn’t have anything for me to drink before the show, and on the other hand, I was afraid that I’d not have the strength to avoid stopping at the liquor store to get a couple of tiny vodka’s, thus ending up unable to drive home again.

Rolf couldn’t go. The humiliation of Sunday night being fresh, I decided to forgo the trip to the liquor store. I got to L. & D.’s place in good time. I wanted a drink bad. I wanted to not drink too. But they offered wine with dinner, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled. Two glassfuls later, and I was drunk again. I know it was just two glasses, but it worked quickly.

The show was wonderful. It was the same production that The Shakespeare Theatre put on downtown. But it was outside at the wonderful Carter Baron Amphitheatre. I’d never been there before. I felt like I was on a date, which is odd. I really was wishing Rolf was there. I really missed him. L.’s partner didn’t come with us. I really am so glad they took me. I had never seen a live Shakespeare production outside of class or Community Theater. This show was so wonderful; I almost broke into tears at several times.

Thursday’s rehearsal ran late. I didn’t get home until around 11, and Rolf didn’t believe me when I said I’d come straight home. “You didn’t stop for drinkies with your little friends?” “Nope, today’s the rare day when I haven’t had anything at all.” “Oh, really?”, he said not totally joking.

Friday – We had tickets to see Big River, which we call Big Quiet River because it is the Deaf West Production seen on Broadway last year, and now playing at the historic Ford’s Theatre. But Rolf was at a charity golf game, and because of the rain, he was still playing when he should have been on his way home. So he couldn’t make it. I got there early and went to Café Atlantico for drinks and a snack. Yuck. I love that restaurant, but for some stupid reason I decided to have foie gras and a couple of capirinhas. Capirinhas, good. Foie Gras, disgusting! I walked back to the theatre, and stopped across the street for another glass of wine before show time.

Ford’s Theatre is great. One of the best moments of the show was right at the top when Mark Twain refers to “a certain president who set the slaves free”, and nodded to the Presidential Box where he was shot. Yep, I cried before the very first song.

BME was working backstage on the show. Aftward we went to Annie’s Paramount Steakhouse for dinner. I had a couple of glasses of wine. But was good to drive. The other drinks had worn off hours before. Although I did make a wrong turn when trying meet up with Rolf and a car dealership in Falls Church, I’m certain that I would have passed a sobriety test.

Saturday, I had an early and long rehearsal. On my lunch break, I took a nice walk through Old Town Alexandria. It's One of the most beautiful places I know. I didn’t make it all the way to the Potomac River Waterfront, but I will soon.

Rolf and I got out for an early dinner before the Duchess of Hillcrest’s cocktail party. I paced myself. We went to the Mercury Grill again. Rolf wants to know where I’m getting all this money to go there every week. “From you”, I said. I’m trying to taste everything on their menu this summer. And still lose weight. Well, I have to work these goals out. After our wonderful dinner, it was on the party for serious power drinking. I was drinking Vodka and Soda. I probably had 6 or 7, followed by wine, I think. Rolf was driving, I didn’t care. Of course, I wish I hadn’t . I lose my wits and talk about things I mean not too, this time about my stupid job. Now that guy’s going to be all cloying about “How’s your sad little job. . .” I hate that! Whatthefuckever.

Thursday, June 02, 2005

Next year is our 25th Anniversary. Being happily partnered for 25 years is an oxymoron really awesome! (Just joking, honey.) What should we do? We want a real celebration. I think we should go to Italy. I bet we would have really great sex in Italy (like we did on Friday. . . and the Friday before that, except maybe more like once or twice a day rather than once or twice a week. . . oh who am I kidding. After 25 years?! Sometimes it’s more like once or twice a month. But lately . . . , well, my man is hot.)

Another idea I had, just last year (can you believe it), was to get legally married right here in good old homophobia Virginia. I was optimistic for a couple of days in February 2004. I tried to get Rolf on a plane to San Francisco so we could get married. But we’re not known for spontaneity. Or planes. I really thought that by October 2006 we’d be able to wed right here. Who knew we lived in the Hate State. Truthfully, what I want more than anything for our 25th Anniversary is a legal Virginia marriage ceremony with family and friends in our newly landscaped backyard overlooking the lake on Sunday, October 8, 2006.

(Hmmm . . . . flashback. . . “Honey, will you marry me? All you have to do is build a deck!” and become the King of Virginia.)

We’re really excited because we have a landscape plan now. There is going to be a pool, and a couple of new decks, one with a hot tub, and a screened room overlooking the lake. It is going to be a wonderful place for weddings parties. We’re chomping at the bit to get started because this will be the third summer we haven’t had a garden.

We went over to our old house had a garden tour Friday night. Actually, it was our date night. We went out without any firm plans, but we dressed up so we’d be happy wherever we ended up. Now, we don’t normally dress up and go to our old house for a garden tour. (Although I’d be open to that, I’m sure the lady who lives there would start calling the police.) We had just stopped at our old neighbor and friend’s house to return the Rototiller we had borrowed on our way downtown. We weren’t there for more than ten minutes when I drifted over to look at our garden. Rolf was mocking me, saying that I can’t just wander over there, but I couldn’t help myself. I just had to see “my” peonies. The new owner came out and allowed us to visit. Dressed in our date clothes, it reminded me of our Twentieth Anniversary celebration. There, amid the green, on the deck, with champagne . . . just the two of us; we exchanged gold and diamond anniversary rings and we danced.

We had so many beautiful times in that garden. (We spent ten years putting it in.) Although it broke my heart to sell it, I know we will have many more wonderful memories in our new garden. Maybe a wedding. That glorious night, Friday, October 5, 2001, I never would have imagined that we’d sell.

Rolf looked so cute; glowing, as later we sat outside at the Mercury Grill. Under a twinkle-lit canopy of trees, white linens draping every table, each occupied by boyfriends and girlfriends; his blue eyes sparkled and his sweet smile kept me laughing. The atmosphere and food were so good; I declared that my goal for this summer was to try everything on the menu. Since I can hardly go out of town until after Tommy closes, I want to spend every Friday night at the Mercury Grill. And plan how to

Get the landscaping done,
And the kitchen renovated,
Plus define our 25th Anniversary Celebration,
And figure out how, when, and if ever, we will make it to Italy (or England, France. . California, for goodness sakes!)
While praying that our newly purchased lottery ticket will help make it possible,

And figuring what show I’m going to direct in Fall 2007.

And then, go home to play bedroom games.

Again.

That could make it a very nice summer after all.