Think this but with a motorcycle helmet.
“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.”
That is the thought going on repeat thru my head as I watch my friend’s new workshop production featuring a fully-enacted motorcycle crash complete with dancers and flying motorcycle helmet.
This is all preceded by a monologue in which choice statements ring true of past conversations I’ve had with said-friend: “My fiance was on his way home for lunch” “His motorcycle was clipped by a car” “He was coming home early for me” and other things even here I’d like to keep a bit more private. Read more...
Crowds of people all living for today.
“I just wish I was farther along after 7 months.”
I’m sitting in my therapist’s office as these words came out my mouth. I mean those words with every fiber of my being. Despite all appearances, I still feel like a lobotomized patient shuffling throught the daily exercises of socializing and shitting.
(BTW: I discovered that many hospices offer free therapy to anyone who has suffered the loss of a partner… for a whole YEAR after the loved one’s death. Did I mention my favorite word, FREE?!?! Okay, so he’s basically a student of therapy… I’m his guinea pig to his credentialling, but still, it’s FREE!!!!) Read more...
Found this on a wall for high-schoolers at the California Shakespeare Theater.
I walked past this sign on my way to work one day. The other day, another student had scrawled the word, “Twerking”.
Oh yup… this is where this moment is going.
“Oh my god, this might be a getting laid night.”
So goes the voice in my head. The voice in my head has an uppity British accent. It’s often condescending. At this moment, it was bemused and snippity as yes… the clothes were falling into mini piles along the hotel room’s floor.
I had met this tourist about 2 days ago. He had bumped into myself and my running group at the bar where my running group likes to drink back the calories we so valiantly burned off just minutes ago. He seemed sweet and inoculous. A tourist from New Mexico. New Mexicans are nice. I offered to take him around SF to see the sights and sounds where the locals go, and where the stench of urine is less and where the self-medicating homeless are actually homed and self-medicating in their parents’ basements. Read more...
Not today, grim reaper, not today.
“Either I rear-end him now, or try to avoid it.”
Stupidly, I tried to avoid the car that cut me off by braking hard and (the dumb part) turning my wheel and hoping to get into the lane next to us. Well, the car took over after that. I spun across all 4 lanes of traffic and ended up by the center divide wall facing oncoming traffic. And the miracle? NOTHING HAPPENED. There were no cars in my direct path, and all the oncoming traffic braked in time as I watched in horror as they screeched around me. The closest car to me was three feet from my engine. No one got hurt. Nothing was damaged. Read more...
I may have conquered lots of backpacking, but I sure haven’t learned how to ROTATE a picture!
I am packing my backpack. I am listless, packing out of duty. I promised myself when my fiance passed away that I would still go on our intended honeymoon. We didn’t have much money so it was going to be an awesome backpacking trip… views galore, swimming forever, watching marmots waddle across a stage of granite. Read more...
I see that this film might be in my immediate future..
Today is hard. Yesterday was hard. I expect the next few days to be slightly uncomfortable. You see, one week from today, we were supposed to be married. We had chosen this time of year because one year ago today, he proposed to me. So you must understand the headspace earthquake going on in my head: the past was so spectacular, the future is no longer what we had planned, and the present is in trying to figure out if Insidious 2 or One Direction’s ‘This is Us’ will be better in getting the past and the future out of the head. Read more...
“Grief is not linear.”
A coworker had heard that from her dad and passed it onto me which I now passed onto my friend. My friend “J” had just lost his mother. Not to disease, but to a surprise heart-attack and therefore throwing his whole family into mourning. I could hear the emotion in his voice over the phone, and my heart broke for him. Grief is different for everyone, but just hearing his wavering voice saying the strong things he said, ah… it was like the knife reopening the wound in my own heart… Read more...
Mandatory hug practice.
“Okay, everyone hug each other!!!!” I order.
This is a mandatory hug rehearsal. “Now find someone you haven’t hugged, and hug them!” I redirect. Hugs abound. “Now, Romeo and Juliet, HUG!” They hug. “Finally!” I pronounce, “You guys actually touched each other! Now do that hug in the show! Let’s move on.”
I am directing middle-schoolers in Shakespeare’s ROMEO AND JULIET. In addition to the fact that I am returning to theatre work after a long absence, I now have to deal with the fact that middle-school boys get embarrassing hard-ons when they accidentally touch a girl. And since everyone knows that everyone of the opposite sex has COOTIES, every reference to kissing in the script means everyone gags. Read more...
I wish I had taken note of the question mark after the word ‘sleep’.
I had 30 minutes to rest before I start on my 6.7 mile loop. I had just run 7.7 miles of a grueling downhill trail in the dark of night. I sat down a bit dazed from the exhaustion and the sleep deprivation. I tried not to sit too long because my legs would seize up: instead, I stuffed my mouth full of beef jerky and salt-n-vinegar chips, took a piss and tried to poop anything -if anything- out, then stood woozily at the transition area for my teammate to swoop in and force me back out into the cold night. Read more...
SAF seeking the sweet life…
It is strange, this viewpoint from the invisible restaurant worker.
Since current events have shook up my life, I haven’t been the nicest or most responsive person. So I’m currently helping out at a friend’s restaurant in the Mission District of San Francisco because chopping parsley is much more therapeutic than working at a job in which I actually have to wake up and give a shit. Between the monumental task of giving a rat’s ass to get up in the morning and the defeated duty of living as if it had any meaning; life has turned into a dispassionate existence as best described by Hyperbole and a Half’s excellent dissertation on depression. Read more...
It’s all just stuff in the end.
It’s all material things… in the long run you can’t take it with you.
But when a person dies, their stuff legally goes to whoever he/she deemed in a written will… if there is no will, it goes to their next of kin.
In my case, my fiance’s stuff goes back to his parents. I legally have no right to anything that we shared.
Earlier this week, they asked for his sleeping bag and his tent.