8 October
Why did I just find myself singing "Have an Eggroll, Mr. Goldstone" from Gypsy while I was dying my hair?
I haven't even thought about this song for years and years, and there I was singing, "There are milestones, there are millstones/There's a cherry, there's a yellow, there's a blue/But we don't want any old stone/Only Goldstone will do!" in a merry tone at the top of my lungs while trying to scrub the pink off my hands.
The mind is a strange thing. The mind of a musical comedy fan is even stranger.
Spend yesterday in front of the box, clearing stuff off of TiVo, thinking about how I should go to the store, but maybe I'd go after just one more episode of Wiseguy.
Around 5p, I clicked on an episode of The Sins that I had just TiVoed, only to find that it was BBC World News talking about how we are bombing Afghanistan. I watched about ten seconds, until I realized that I was full, my hard-drive was full. I cannot process anything more for awhile. Six episodes of the music arc of Wiseguy and not going to the store until after 11p, that's what I needed.
I mean, I'm in NY, so even though I haven't been writing about it, I think about WTC all the time, probably a third of every day, and that's not through dwelling on it, it's because it's part of the air now, and the fabric of the city, and I pass the skyline twice a day, and sometimes I have to walk near the firehouse on 8th Ave. that I have walked past once a week for twenty years, where I can't even look at the pictures in the front to see whether one of the lost is one of the firemen that I knew by sight.
It's like Ginkgo. I wasn't particularly close to her, though I knew and liked her, but I think about her death twice a day, every day, because there are two Ginkgo trees at the end of my block, and I see the shape of the leaves and I think about her.
It's like that, it's unavoidable, and you don't want to avoid it, it's like the air. I breathe all the time, in-out-in-out, and I don't write about it, because it's so primal and central to being. Not, of course, that one needs it to survive, but more that it is as firmly a part of being alive, like oxygen.
My point, I think, is that I don't need anything else taking up room in the warp and the woof of my life.
Today's
horoscope:
Don't let yourself get stifled today. Bring in a plant, move the office pictures, sit on the other side of your desk or alter your space a bit.
One year ago today:
"But you sent me a graduation announcement!"
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Last Updated Tues 9 October 09:39:09 2001