Wednesday, September 30, 2015

100 days till 50, in 100 words

I have been talking about turning 50 for so long that you may think I already am, but I still have 100 days till I’m half a century. I propose shaking things up and doing a count down of what is great and what is going on for me as I celebrate this period of life before being half way to 100. Today I jogged after dropping my daughter at school and stretched with my son crawling over me. I cannot believe how magically lovely my family is. I am thrilled by life. Won’t apologize for bragging. Thank you universe/dollface.

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

photo shoot 1970

I saw this woman on a game show with straight shiny anglo hair, cut in a neat bob and parted on the side with one barrette holding it in place, almost exactly like Margot in The Royal Tenenbaums, except 30 years earlier. I adored her look. Oh, man, was I ever going to copy that style for my photo shoot that week.

Day of my shoot I parted my thick bushy Puerto Rican Irish hair to the side in a big tangled mess and put the barrette in place, just like the lady had it. I put on a navy wool turtleneck with a zipper up the front with a round metal zipper pull at the throat paired with a red wool mini skirt and red tights and brown crushed patent loafers. I finished the look with a yellow-smiley-face-with-googly-eyes-that-moved pendant on a long chain.

As I left for Kindergarten that morning, photo day, my mother said that I needed to take off the necklace but I protested. She squashed the argument by saying that it was too much metal for a photo and that I could wear the necklace to school but I had to take it off for the photo, and that if I didn’t the photographer would ask me to take it off anyway.

My heart beat in my chest as I defied my mother and left on the necklace for the photo. I just could not bear to mess up the look. I waited as my turn approached to see if the photographer would agree with my mother and tell me to take the chain off. He did not. I still have the photo. It is way too personal to share right now. It fills me with so many feelings. Use your imagination.

Yes, tomorrow is photo day at kindergarten and my little fashionista has her look picked out, including a green velvet glitter dress. Like mother like daughter. Amen.

Monday, September 28, 2015

"hey biker, don't maul my fall" -holly

One time this biker gang member, who ran in some of the same circles as me, liked me and I was sort of horrified. His gang was the real deal and I was so not down with that stuff, the violence and un-reachable un-reasonable un-touchable separate-from-the-rest-of-the-human-race quality. Not my thing. Never gonna happen, no way. One night he was walking past me in a nightclub and my fall (which if you don’t know, is a wig, a hair piece you wear with your own hair to make it supersonic larger than life, long fat hair) got caught on all the stuff on his leather jacket and his walking by jerked my head and mauled my fall and he seemed really embarrasses as he and I had to untangle our selves. Tre uncomfortable.

Nothing ever happened but we did cross paths many times and once, at a friends request, he drove me home after a gig and helped me get my Marshall amp up 4 flights, which was very kind. I needed the help. Later he was about to beat up an employee of mine due to a misunderstanding, not kind, and I stepped in and cleared things up and saved the day. Urg.

Anyway, my impulse was very judgemental and compartmentalizing, that’s what I do with everyone who might be an enemy or who I might be scared of, for whatever reason. He is “blank”, stick him in that box and lock it, end of sentence. Eventually, because we would be forced to interact several times, I had to figure out how to still see him as a human being while keeping my boundaries. Boundaries can be like brick walls for me and again and again I am asked to still have them, but with a little more breathing room. Its a great practice for me, a needed practice, and i appreciate the opportunity whenever it occurs, even though it i shard. Still a big challenge for me, it is easier for me to cut you off with an ax, than to engage and politely have my boundaries, but I am getting better. Thanks. xxH

Sunday, September 27, 2015

Preteen love

7th grade I think. He asked me out and I said yes. I liked him but I was terrified of dating, of commitment, of the unknown, of kissing for the first time. What exactly was expected of me? What was I to do? How should I know? What the fuck were all these feelings, liking someone and then all this other stuff?

He had walked me home, pin straight hair falling into his eyes. He looked pretty good until I looked down. He had on pointy leather lace up shoes and he had an umbrella. It had stopped raining and the ground was a depressing damp. Sorry but that was a deal breaker right there- POINTY shoes and an umbrella. I had already said I would go out with him, but I knew that I needed to change my answer. I ran home and could not sleep all night knowing what I had to do the next day. I could almost die from the anxiety of going out with someone with those shoes. 

The next day in school I broke up with him. Phew, it was over.

Saturday, September 26, 2015

Living Large Forever, watts towers and the giant moon

If anyone remembers my original blog, it used to be more about amazing secrets in the big city. Those were the days of running wild and free till all hours and not being home with a washed face and glasses by 7pm. Alas, the trade off is worth it but I do have a grand event to share. Sunday September 27th is The Watts Towers Jazz Festival. 10am-6pm free. Watts Towers is amazing to visit, just to see, but add in a celebration of jazz Gospel and R&B and it will be over the top. Plus it is a mere 3 blocks form the infamous 110th street, see below…

Then, tomorrow night, Sunday at 7:11pm catch the Lunar eclipse.

As fate would have it, we did indeed spend the night tonight out dancing under the stars with the kids in Chinatown for the new moon festival. My little man can walk now, and he loves dancing to the latin sounds, as does my girl. We had a blast and I am thrilled to be out till 9pm!! Living large forever!!

Yes, this song is about 110th in LA not NYC.

Watts Towers
1727 East 107th Street
Los Angeles, CA 90002

Friday, September 25, 2015

Interdimensional Shake-Up

So i am just going to go ahead and share this tonight. I am very interested in the work of a woman named June Brought who is intuitive and beyond. She does something called Akashik readings, which tells of your soul's blueprint. Take it or leave it. But she sent this out and I am sharing it because it is so interesting. I am down with an INTERDIMENSIONAL SHAKE-UP. Hell, i am down with almost any shake up. Shake ups are great for the soul and the mind and everything. I would love to hear people's experiences in relation to it, if there are any and i will report mine, for sure, as i can always use new material. I already had a major miracle regarding the time frame, so who knows. If nothing else, I am digging the idea that "embracing of these 'I don't know' feelings'... is the specific gateway to heart-based awareness, as unsettling as it may feel at the moment." xxH

ala June Brought:
We are in the upswing of a profound interdimensional integration this week, culminating on the 27th & 28th; corresponding with astrological events and an influx of Gamma rays. For many there will be a sense of 5th dimensional experience blending with the more familiar 3D human experience. The physical symptoms are "heady"...a feeling of pressure or expansion in the head, a vibrating or trembling in the body, heightened visual sense of color and light; a feeling of being physically off balance when moving , insomnia, a feeling of being lifted up, memory lapses, and other fun stuff 

Some are referring to this weekend as the "Ascension"; the Akashic Record refers to the integration human and Divine awareness unlike any we have experienced on this planet.

The most important tools at this juncture are extreme moment to moment presence, taking the next aligned physical step, forcing nothing, resisting nothing. Authentic, loving communication with others, while honoring Self is also key, as emotional reactivity is running high.

A sense of not knowing who we are, where we're going , or perhaps why we even care is symptomatic of the human will collapsing into the Divine will. This requires surrender to and even embracing of these "I don't know" feelings. This is a specific gateway to heart- based awareness, as unsettling as it may feel at the moment.
here is her website if you need to know more

can you dig it? yes i can and i 've been waiting such a long time ...

Thursday, September 24, 2015

Night and Day

Last night everything went to hell. I was cranky and tired and got imperfect news from the doctor, “nothing to panic about but keep an eye on it” and that little tidbit planted the OMG!!! SOMETHING TERRIBLE IS GOING TO HAPPEN seed that was dying to make its way through the dark earth to bloom into a giant tree. All that was happening without me knowing it.

Alas when my daughter freaked out and grabbed my arm in anger, I forgot all about playful parenting and doing a hammy goofy voice saying “you’re in big trouble now, kiddo,” and letting it all dissolve in giggles. Instead the volcano blew and I was screaming and stomping and punching the bed and she was screaming and the little one was crying and everything exploded for a while until we mended and went to bed. We always mend but this particular day I was so out of sorts that I had to fake it till I made it because I was so mad and out of my head and it was really hard for me to get back to my heart. So I pretended and put the kids to bed in peace and was left with all the feelings of anger and despair. Urg, horrific.

Today I was talking with a friend and remembered that many of us think that our path is the very worst one. I wish that I was anyone other than the asshole who screams at her kids. But alas, that is my path. There are reasons I do it, good ones, and part of my path is healing the wounds that lead me down that path, having empathy for myself when I go there, and learning how to mend. I have taught my daughter that we all have big feelings and that I still love her even when she has big feelings and even when I have big feelings, and that we always come back to love and mend. She sees me model it with her and with my husband and she too asks to mend when she loses it. My path is my path, this is the work I have to do and it is not that bad after all. Indeed it is quite lovely to hear her say “Mommy I want to mend.”

Still last night was bleak bleak bleak, hard to bear. Then today, everything changed. The day was great. Miracles abounded. And I made some playtime and without me prompting it my daughter decided to play a game where she gets really really mad and yells. She would “fake” yell and say all these half sentences and dissolve into puddle of giggles and then I would do the same. It was a brilliant rewriting of the script and a great healing moment. I was so proud of her and her instincts and we had a great day and night.

Also, I must acknowledge that one of my dreams came true today. I got something that I wanted for a long long time. It was brilliant and I have such gratitude. It was a miracle along the lines of the parting of the red sea ala The Ten Commandments, cinematically unforgettable and just plain remarkable!

Everything can change at the drop of a hat. Don’t quit before the miracle. You have no idea what is just around the bend. Keep you heart open to mending. Joy to the world!

what the hell... 

Wednesday, September 23, 2015


I would rather eat cookies than write, so I did.  I ate the whole box and now I am sitting to write and I still do not want to. Sometimes I cannot think of a thing to say. It usually comes, but I am too tired to wait. I am trying but not feeling the flow, which is ok, part of the process. We all are boring or suck or create uninteresting stuff in order to get to the good stuff. It can’t all be gold and it can’t all even be bronze, sometimes it is just scrap metal. xxh

Tuesday, September 22, 2015


Planned Parenthood is asking women to stand in solidarity and share their experiences with abortion to help de-stigmatize this normal, ancient, healthy procedure using this hashtag ‪#‎shoutyourabortion” posted my friend Viva. She has a shirt that says “I’ve had 2 abortions. God was cool with it.”

I LO V E her and what she is saying. She is bringing unconditional love and non judgment to the conversation. She constantly brings me to greater and greater non-judgment on so many topics, judgment I did not even know I had. I adore her and her mind and soul for that! Thank you.

I am not writing this because I think I can change anyone’s mind. If I do that is great, but I am writing it to broaden the views of all the people with my same pro choice views, because I love sharing things that have broaden my views, that open me even further to the truth. I believe in a loving spiritual force/universe that loves me unconditionally. By my trying to love myself and those in my life unconditionally and non-judgementally, I  need help to keep me on course, I need reminders to keep me out of the closet of darkness and judgment and shame and whatever and I want to be that support to others as well.

My story is that I never had a medical abortion. I used birth control regularly from day one of sexual activity and yet I still found myself in a position where I could have been pregnant because my birth control failed one time. The condom broke so I knew it failed, I saw it fail, which is not always the case, yes? I wound up taking the abortion pill. 

At the time I was dating an unavailable guy. Dating is strong word. He was the type of person that was fun company except if I was needy. If I needed anything from him, emotionally, he was gone. He was unreachable via the cell he always had on him all that day that  I went to the doctor and got the pill. Just doing that, getting the pill, was a hard decision, I did not take it lightly. It was not fun or frivolous. It was emotional and it was necessary, like most abortions. Had I not known in time and found myself pregnant I would have gotten a medical abortion, not happily or casually, but absolutely.

And I was indeed happy that I was not pregnant. I could barely support myself financially at the time, I did not have a partner to raise a child with, but most importantly, I did not want a child and I was not ready to be a mother. As a mother I can think of nothing worse than someone being forced to have a child before they are ready and able, which is cruel and unusual punishment. Forcing someone to have a child is cruel and unusual punishment. I respect everyone’s view on the topic but I do not respect forcing that view on anyone else's body. Like it or not, we are all responsible for our own reproductive choices. Lets keep it that was legally. God bless everyone, always.

Love yourself always, brave beautiful people.

Monday, September 21, 2015


So I can do dark. I love breaking bad and true detective, season one. so we went to see Sicario and the film was top notch in that genre, great acting, great directing, great music, well worth seeing, but it messed with me on such a deep level like no other film has. There was some noise In the theatre during the show and I was sure there was going to be a shooting, but there wasn't. Then, sitting in the car idling, I saw what I thought was a shadow approaching and gasped in terror. It was just another car. Finally, I went to bed and had multiple nightmares including one where a cab brought me to a location I did not recognize and I got out and was surrounded by cop cars with shields up, guns drawn. I assumed They were after the cabbie, but no one cared that I was in the line of fire and they started spraying some red gas which forced me to wake. yikes. 

There is another film out, a scary psychological thriller, about 9 year old twins whose mother has plastic surgery and they start to think that the woman who comes back in bandages and then looks different is not their mom. The reviewer said that the movie would really mess you up and stay with you, so I purposely did not see it. I tend to avoid horror and stuff that messes with the psyche, i never saw texas chain saw massacre back in the day and so i never will. but I did not expect a cop drug film to kick my ass. Alot of my friends with kids don't do dark anymore, but i like dark i want to do dark, but the entertainment business is getting darker and darker and I think I sat my limit.

Sunday, September 20, 2015

dressed like a hipster but there was something off

I picked up some pizza for the kids today and on the way into the pizza place I saw a guy come out of a club, maybe from a soundcheck. He caught my eye because he was dressed like a hipster but there was something off about him. He was skinny and had the right clothes, but something was bugging me. He had a combover to cover his bald spot that he almost got away with, but I could see it from behind. He was older than the other people milling in and out of the club. Being older and having a bald spot and trying to conceal both things is no great crime but he just felt off.

He reminded me of the guy in a Joyce Carol Oats story called Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been. They made it into a film called Smooth Talk with Laura Dern which was a little different from the book, which was about a girl who is with a guy and she started to realize he was much older than her, although he had come across a peer maybe, she just starts seeing all these details that are not right. And things go wrong from there.

Anyway, he and his pal went into the Pizza place before me and I had 2 kids waiting in the car and so I walked up to the counter while the guys dallied and I ordered before them and the off guy shoot me a look. I ignored it.

Nothing came of it, no big deal, I just was weary of him. As I was walking out the door he said to me “I like your ‘Love’ tattoo.” I have a tattoo on my ankle that says “Love”, the letter L is a snake and the “o” is a spade. I designed it. It was my first tattoo and cost $5.00. It is really childish and almost 3 decades old. He had to be studying me as much as I was studying him to spot it and read it on my moving body. I said “Oh, Thanks. It is really old” and left. Creepy. Anyway, stranger, if you happen to be reading this, my being weirded out is just my shuff, nothing to do with you, who I do not even know. Peace out. 

Saturday, September 19, 2015


so my sister started dating boys when I was in 6th grade and she was in 9th and I hated it. I felt sooo protective of her. I did not like or trust the guys or her judgment because she was in high school and could no longer see clearly like I could. It was just awful.

Then she got this boyfriend Kenny. He looked great and wore cool clothes and drove cool cars and liked great music. He was her first real boyfriend and they were together for years. He was working class and lived in the bronx and wore a motorcycle jacket like the Ramones and thermal shirts with jeans and motorcycle boots. He had longish blonde shaggy hair, not feathered or wings and not in a stylized way but in the great Bronx I-am-not-trying-at-all,-I-just-look-this-way-naturally way.

Kenny was brilliant because he thought I was funny and interesting and he was never a pervert and he let me hang around and come to all kinds of bars and clubs with them. And he drove!!! He drove us to go see Devo in Central Park, Adam and the Ants at the Pier, The Cramps at the Left Bank and Johnny Thunders at the old Peppermint Lounge, on Christmas night! When I was 14 and he took me to Max’s to see Lenny Kaye. He drove me to see Black Flag in 1982, where I wound up meeting my first real boyfriend. He would go to shows I wanted to go to, happy to check out new music and he had good taste to begin with. We saw the Stones together, The Ramones, The Clash at Bonds, and a million other bands. We also spent time in a dive in Yonkers called the Rising Sun, seeing local hair bands like Vixen. Oh man, we ran the gamut. And we laughed all the time, about all the silly things you laugh about as a teenager.

He was the ride in so many of the stories I have told, part of the party when I had my first kiss, part of the party a million times over. Go back and read any of those stories (they are all here in the blog) and Kenny was there. I never directly wrote about him because he was my sister’s boyfriend, never the point of the story. He was woven into the fabric of my life but never the focus, and yet the adventures we shared were staggering. This guys was so cool and generous. As if taking me, (and often paying!) to all of those shows listed above were not enough, Kenny lent me his Motorcycle jacket to wear to high school on my birthday, before I had one, because I loved it so much and so desperately wanted one. Then, he helped my sister get me one for Christmas. I loved it so much I cried when I opened it. He carried my throw-up cover self home from my first new years eve out in a club where I mixed champagne with whatever and where I learned to never mix again. I think that was the first and last time I threw up from drinking. But I was gone, passed out at a table covered on vomit and at the end of the night he carried my smelly body and let me destroy his car on the ride home, covered in vomit.

I don’t know what else to say, there is no tale with a beginning, middle and end to it. I finally got a boyfriend and started hanging out downtown and he and my sister broke up at some point and we  drifted. We still see each other now and then. Life dances on. Did I ever say thank you? Thank you, thank you, thank you for everything, for taking care of me and especially for all of that glorious freedom, the thing I wanted the most. I Love you, Kenny. xxH

Friday, September 18, 2015

playful parenting

So this book Playful Parenting by Lawrence J Cohen is changing my life. I know intuitively that my girl needs physical play and roughhousing as a way to bond. She tackles me often when I am not expecting it and I can get hurt, so I try to structure that kind of play for her so her needs get met before she needs to surprise me. I would play a game with her when we could really be physical but safe, but often she would get unhappy at some point and I could not figure out what I was doing wrong. Sometimes I would get frustrated that my efforts just lead to more problems and the game would end very unfun. Urg.

Then I read the book and learned that there is so much subtext in kid’s play. Who knew? Cohen explains the dynamics and interprets the behaviors and has made my life so much better. My instincts around her needs were right on, but I needed to let her really feel in control and take all of my leads from her, even if they did not make sense to me. Sometimes she wants me to fall over from just her touching me (testing her power), sometimes she wants to give it all she got and really tackled me (seeing if I can handle her biggest power, take what ever she might dish, love her bigness). She wants me to tackle her but not win and when I really ham it up and brag about how easy it will be to take her down and then I try and fail (on purpose) she thinks it is hilarious. Our play leads to lots of laughing and fun now.

The other thing in the book that is really helpful is instructing me to follow the giggles and bring more laughter into all situations, often by being really silly, not really by tickling, which does not give a kid a sense of power. Jokes lighten up the tense times in a great way. I am not silly and hammy by nature but the book makes so much sense and gives me so many easy tools it is just amazing how much better we connect. I am not a light person, but the book is giving me a lot of healing and connection through laughter and lightness and I am so grateful. Solutions and help often fall into your lap when you open yourself  up to asking.

Thursday, September 17, 2015

this is radical: the leaping IS the net

unconditional love has invaded my life and it is so powerful, it is what makes all of the difference. In the book The Road Less Traveled, the very beginning says something about how most people can make their life what they want, except for this tiny percent who were never loved and are hopeless. Sorry, I am paraphrasing something I read over 20 years ago, but I remember reading and just feeling despair. Sometimes the hole is too great to be fixed. Some boats can be mended and some sink.I have a sister who loved me to death, but I was so starved that I just needed more than any one person could provide.

I was talking to a friend about how I did not have the sweet teenage experience of lovey dovey first love. I was an anarchist in an open relationship. We were loving in our own way but so messed up. Everything was great and different but challenging and all about survival and makes for great stories, but the bad ass element was so detrimental, there was no soft place to land, really, ever, really. The armor saves your life but then it gets so uncomfortable and starts to kill you.

 For some reason, i really wanted a better life and I somehow worked like a dog to be soft and vulnerable and to feel and to try to love and let love in and that was harder than any of the survival stuff. I’ve written about it, I know, the terror, etc.

This is the thing: Seeking to allow love into my life gave me the capacity to be transformed by love. Enduring the horror of being vulnerable and allowing softness and love is what healed me of the violent wounds. You know that saying "leap and the net will appear", well the part no one has ever mentioned is that the net cannot do anything but appear because the leaping is the net. The leaping is the net. The leaping is the net. Leap.

Anyway, I am amazed by the crazy love fest of a home I have created for myself. My kids are amazing, my husband is the best and I show up better and better to receive all this good stuff. My life is a mind blowing miracle and I have such gratitude. Thank you,thank you, Thank you. No one is hopeless, nothing is a lost cause. All transformation is possible.

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Old man bar 100 words on a wednesday

At 15, if it was cold or raining, we’d to go to what we called “old man bars” populated by old men and a few women whom we never said hello to. The beer was cheap and the old men bartending compassionately never proofed us.

I was indifferent to alcohol. I drank to be cool and do what everyone else was doing but it was nothing great. Many of the mates I knew still go to those bars and as the old men die off, and the new kids find there way in, the mates are becoming the old men.

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

my three year old brain

I have a very clear memory of being 3 or 3 and a half and my mother teaching me about flushing the toilet. We had this great prewar apartment with a peachy colored bathroom. All of the fixtures were peach. The peach toilet did not have a tank behind it, it just had icy cold metal pipe behind it and a silver metal handle to flush with that stuck off of the pipe.

I am guessing I was getting a lesson because I potty trained and moving up to using the real toilet. My mother explained to me very calmly that when you are finished wiping you flush the toilet. I remember her giving me examples of how to do it. I think she stood up and flushed and then she showed me how you could do it another way, like this: she swung legs to the side and twisted her torso back to flush the toilet while still sitting on the bowl. I never saw her actually touch the flushing handle because her body was blocking it from my view so I thought that there was some magical movement you could do, some place you had to position yourself that made the toilet flush automatically. I remember every time I went to the bathroom, I tried to replicate her moves to hit the secret spot that made the toilet flush by it’s magical self. I tried and tried and tried on my own but I never figured out how to do it. 

Monday, September 14, 2015

The ugly American

In my Twenties I went to Brazil with my friend. We bought some package that included airfare and a 4 star hotel. I think it might have been my first time staying at a hotel. My friend wanted to go because she liked latin guys, but upon arriving, she decided that she was not attracted to the guys there. She had smuggled hallucinogenics onto the plane and we tripped for the 10 hour plane ride and then again walking around the city. She was from eastern Europe and we went to see a film from her country, which was translated into Portuguese. I spoke neither language but it did not matter. We did not know you had to pay for the minibar and ate and drank all of the “free” contents. We had a good week.

The last day of the trip we had a 5pm flight so we went to the beach for the day and when we got back to our hotel at 3pm to get ready to pack and go to the airport, the hotel staff was frantic, as we were supposed to have checked out at noon. This made absolutely no sense to me. Why would we have to check out at noon if our package had us on a flight for 5pm. What were we supposed to do, sit in the lobby for 4 hours? I had no idea of hotel rules and that the package had nothing to do with the hotel. I thought we were taken care of till we had to leave. So did she.

We were called into the depths of the hotel, a basement office. Someone who had a very organized crime air about him gave us a bill that we could not pay. I did not have a credit card, I paid cash for everything and I guess my friend did too. We were too taken by the absurdity to be scared. We argued with the guy for a long time, because of the overpriced items that we thought were free-we questioned why the hotel put the food in the room without a sign saying a price. The guy had no idea what to do with us.

Eventually he saw that he was fighting a losing battle. He actually agreed to let us go to the store and replace the items we ate and had us pay a minimal late checkout fee. Before we left he called us fucking Americans. We waved our hands in disgust at him. I was the only American, an unentitled working class weirdo, the other fucking American was from communist eastern Europe. We were just young, brash, and unworldly, we were women who argued back, and we had a few good points. But looking back at the hilarity, I can see how he could have thought that.

Sunday, September 13, 2015

Sex at almost 50

A few things....

1. Joe strummer seems to have taken everything from Humphrey Bogart in The Petrified Forrest. Imagine being able to become a star with the name Humphrey. Incidentally, Bogart was ready to quit the business when he made that film, it was his last ditch effort to make it as an actor and it catapulted him to stardom.

2. Ice Cube’s son is his spitting image, alas, softer, but just as handsome.

3. There is nothing worse than having to put your underwear and high heels back on after sex, particularly when you are tired and almost 50. I wish that I could say that I had not had to do this since sleeping around in my misspent youth but alas, sometimes when you are a couple with kids you find yourself running around Hollywood looking for  hotel because the place you thought you had a reservation was actually sold out.

Ah, the drag of living the sweet life!

Saturday, September 12, 2015

Sex at the Limelight

One time I went to the Limelight to see Jayne County, personal idol, transgender pioneer, rock star, and legend, who always reminded me a bit of my dear aunt Carol, mostly because of her brilliant mix of  coolness, warmth and goofiness, ala Phyllis Diller. There was some fetish event going on at the club, but I was there for the music. The place was really raging. People, mostly gay, were having a lot of sex in the room. People were getting spanked and giving and getting head, and many people were in various states of undress, wearing chaps and nothing else, etc. That was not abnormal in the New York club scene. I was used to being in places like that, not as a vouyer at all, but as an indifferent jaded hipster. I was often in rock clubs but also many gay clubs or art scene type places where everyone was an object d’art and people were doing performance art and getting naked for one reason or another and of course in the club world there was always someone trying to have sex in some dark corner, or in this case, not so dark corner. This night was a bit more intense but whatever, Jayne County was playing, man.

We saw Jayne play and it was brilliant. Later, as we walked home all hopped up on the rock and roll energy, we loudly made our way down the depressingly dead sixth avenue, or Avenue of the Americas as it was called. B confided in me that earlier in the night he saw a cop in the club and his thought was “Thank god the police are here,” thinking that the presence of the police might keep some order in the sheer sexual chaos going on around us, not registering that the cop was a gay man in fetish drag ala the village people. We proceeded to laugh till we could not breathe. 

Still today, we can still say that line to each other, “Thank god the police are here,” and double over in glee and pain from not breathing. I love people who can have a sense of humor about themselves, they teach uptight me how to do the same. I love you B....Still laughing 30 years later. Forever.

"You might as well live because some day your gonna die"....

Friday, September 11, 2015

the anniversary, the judge, and the miracles

I write everyday, so today September 11th, I will write about that day 14 years ago. Not sure what to say. I have some resistance but writing about anything else does not seem right.

Of course the worst part of the ordeal was the lives lost. The beautiful vibrant young alive radiant lives that were taken that day never got to see what would have transpired for them these last 14 years. Never got to see their kids go from kinder to college, or see their lovers become spouses, or see their parents age or whatever things we all got to experience in this luxury of time. Because I was recently touched by the death of a family member, I am in the gift zone, the place where you experience just how precious it all is. That is the gift that death leaves for everyone left behind. Man, this life is such a precious gift, everything we have is so amazing and perfect and beautiful. My heart is filled with love and it inspires me to be a better person, to overcome my limitations and just habituate myself to the miracles that surround me.

The beautiful faces of the people we lost that day fill me with sadness but remind me of all I have to be grateful for, remind me that life is short and we do our best while we are here. I do not know what my path is or why, but I show up. One of my heros, Father Mychal Judge,  the chaplin for the NY Fire department, died helping people at the World Trade Center that day. The day before he died he said "No matter how big the call, no matter how small, you have no idea of what God is calling you to do, but God needs you. He needs me. He needs all of us". (last homily: Sept. 10, 2001).

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Daily practice

So I have been really affected by this post I saw about how fast time passes. It is written by someone who is almost 100 years old, or it is at least written by someone who is writing with the wisdom of someone who is that old. Who knows who the author is of any internet post. The post is an art piece that includes the photo of a very old woman next to a young model and the stark contrast is stunning. The words say something to the effect of “would you listen if I told you how fast time passes,” and “in the end there are no answers, just stories.”

I am always trying to be more kind and loving, forgiving of  any injuries, present and warm, showing up gracefully for all of the struggles and living with an open heart, a tall order that I fail at constantly, but still do my best to try and make progress daily. And this post has pushed me to up my practice to the next level. I see how fast it goes, my daughter is 5 ½ years old and that time has passed in a blink of an eye. Having kids really makes all of this work more profound and more desireable. I always want to show up as a better parent, more patient, empathetic, loving, and I want to appreciate all of the joy, and yet daily it is so easy to get caught up in the staggering frustrations and get lost in the work and lose sight of all the gifts. Parenthood is such a hard job but the gifts are boundless, and it is a real practice to stay in that zone of appreciation and joy, rather than frustration, (which for me becomes anger), exhaustion and the grind. Having to practice that paradigm shift IS the gift. Let me say that again, One of the great gifts of getting to be a parent is that I have to work hard to stay in the joy and appreciation zone. I have to work those muscles daily, I have to be super buff in that area and that is a grand GIFT!!

It all goes by so fast, time and life. Every mom tells you this when you become a new mom. It all goes by at a neck breaking speed, this life thing, having kids only brings that information into focus faster.

In the end there are no answers only stories. I hope that my story in the end is that I was kind and loving, that I let go of the negative feelings towards whomever, that I stayed in the zone of love and appreciation.

I hope this inspires at least one person. Love to you all.

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Race again. Urg!

We have people come over and let themselves in with the key all the time – cleaning persons, baby sitters, pet sitters, friends, ALL THE TIME! The times that our guests happened to be black, different neighbors, also friends, texted us to let us know. No one has ever texted over a white or latino person. That breaks my heart because it just shows how real and subtle racism is. The neighbors are educated, libral, kind people who are in no way overtly racist, but a black person in the neighborhood- a nicely dressed, educated, friendly black person- creates suspicion.

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

you can read it in the sunday papers..

Amanda Knox was finally cleared of all charges today. The story is trending. I think about her a lot. 

Her story, for those of you who do not know, was that she was convicted by an Italian court of the murder of her roommate. She served almost 4 years in jail before getting released after an appeal found her not guilty. Then, 2 yeas later she was found guilty again by an appellate court, but did not return to jail, but waited for another court to decide her fate. In March she was finally found not guilty by the Italian Supreme court. Yesterday they explained the decision for throwing out the conviction. They explain the story better than I can here:

 I can’t help but feel for her because of the length and hopelessness of her ordeal. Her story was all over the tabloids for years. She was in another country without her family or friends in jail, at the mercy of a legal system that found her guilty. I am always amazed by the things that people are able to bear and overcome. I can only imagine the staggering legal bills and the additional costs that her family had just in airfare. The costs of legal proceedings are so much more than just the lawyers. There is the missed work- she was not able to earn in jail and her family probably missed a ton of work too- then there is therapy and/or whatever people need to do to get the support to handle the burden.

Many people have great burdens that they have to contend with and try to overcome. It is so random, never personal, but that is a part of life. Bad things happen to good people all the time. All we can do is persevere. And in time, a day, a month, a year, a decade, it ends. It never ceases to fascinate me. I have written many times, my old pal Winston Churchill did indeed say, “if you are going through hell, keep going.”

Things end. I promise. And I am so glad whenever someone's ordeal ends- so happy for them and so happy for the proof.

Monday, September 7, 2015

Go with the flow

You have to respect little kids thoughts and feelings and opinions, hear them out but also take em with a grain of salt. We hit the beach today even though my daughter did not want to and said she would not swim in the ocean. When we got there she wanted in of course, who could resist? I just happened to have her bathing suit on me. Flexibility is a lovely quality.

Sunday, September 6, 2015

The tide is high

The water was rough yesterday, so my daughter did not want to go the beach today, even though we are here at the beach on our holiday. Instead we did the pool and the pier, the rides and the aquarium. It is perfect even though I love the beach and really wanted to swin in the sea. Doing things with little  kids is not like doing things use to be. I don't get to lay for one sec on the towel, I don't get to swim alone for more than five minutes, I don't get to rest or read, I am working the whole time, so not doing something I love is not the same as not doing something I love used to be. It's fine because it is fine. And it is fine because there are other things that happen with little kids that are new and even better.

The day was great because grandpa came and he went on a ride with my girl. He had not been on a ride in dare I guess 4 decades, give or take two. We all ate ice cream and pet star fish and walked around the boardwalk like it was the jersey shore, just having fun. Then right before bath we sat on our terrace and watched the sunset into the mountains behind the curved pacific coast. Perfect timing. The baby was howling with the joy we were all feeling.

Tonight in the bath, this conversation happened:
Me: what was your favorite part of the day?
Daughter: I am not ready to talk about it.
Me: mine was watching you and grandpa on the balloon ride.
Daughter: mine was the ice cream.
Me: and watching the sunset...
Daughter: mine was eating the ice cream.
Me: and petting the animals at the aquarium.
Daughter: and going on the ride with grandpa and petting the animals at the aquarium.
Me: and the ice cream.
Daughter: mmmmm.

If we had really been on the jersey shore we would have heard this at least twice, since they've been playing it heavy rotation for the last 4 decades


Oh, the delight of the Pacific Ocean, warm for a change, from the heat wave. Rough waves, sand, french fries, rides. My daughter went on her first roller coaster and was not pleased. She said she will never go on one again. We'll see. I liked that her reaction was honest and she was true to herself. She cried midway through the short ride and I had the attendant let us off before it went around again. Poor baby.
I remember the first time I rode the cyclone. I was with a girl named Patricia. i just grit my teeth and got through the scary ride. she cried. I think that was healthier, she was more in touch. But I did grow up to be a roller coaster lover. But, not so much these days.
Anyway, my brain is on vacay. Enjoy your amazing life as it unfolds each glorious magnificent day under the blue sky and, in my case, the warm California sun.

Friday, September 4, 2015

The struggle is normaL

I have this thing that is really difficult in my life and there has been an internal shift in me. This is going to sound so airy but my mother in laws passing has cracked me open to this really powerful love. Things have been happening around the house,  you hear stories like this all the time when someone dies, like a door that was being held closed by a shoe, suddenly blew open and I felt this warm warm love and it is reminding me what is important.

So in my struggle I am able to move past the ego-y part that wants an answer and wants to be right and can only be kind if the other asshole changes first and acts like a person who deserves kindness. Yep, that part of me is alive and well. But this bigger love keeps reminding me to turn all of my negative impulses into white light LOVE.

Lawrence Cohen has these great tips in his book Playful Parenting. When a kid aims a fake gun at you, you can say, “oh, that’s a love gun, anyone you shoot with it will fall in love with you” and if they say no its not, you can say “then it must be broken, because I just feel in love with you,” and chase them all googly- eyed. Transform hostility into play, which is a step in the right direction for transferring  fear and ego into love.

I am low on the capacity to let stuff slide off of my back. It gets snagged on my trauma and gets triggered and accessing the Mother Teresa place is no easy feat. I would love to hear what tricks you use when facing the difficult and the ego. Peace out, my dears.