Holy mother of Merman and Martin, this has been a beautiful day. So much good, not the least of which was finding this in my Twitter timeline:
I adore Jeremy Jordan. I adore Losing My Mind. The combination is just – well, cause for more adoration. I cannot wait for movie of The Last Five Years. I am still mourning the end of Smash.
But, this post is about my beautiful day. It began with a private Twitter conversation with someone very dear to me, someone who made me feel so very loved and seen and heard and known — which is funny, because we have never met in person and probably never will, but, right now, this person(a) knows me so incredibly well and is one of those who make me feel loved. Seen.
Speaking of, when I returned to the gym after an eight-day absence – a gym where I have been going almost every day for the past two (?) years without fail but where I still, somehow, am not included in that group of “regulars” who are there every day like me, chat each other up, hang together in a sort of “in” club – and I was in the locker room changing when the fellow who is head of maintenance/cleaning, he of the prison-teardrop tattoo (although, not filled in, so apparently he did not actually kill the man) walked up to me and said, “Where have you been?” Now, me being me and unaccustomed to being – well – seen, although there was no one else anywhere near us, replied, “Me?” Yes. Me. He said, “I was worried about you, wondering where you went.” I explained that I’d been sick but was much better now and not a danger to anyone but I did “the Charlie” as some of my students used to call it; I started with the eyes watering, semi-cry. He said, “Whoa, are you okay?” I said, “Yeah, I’m good – just, sickness wore me out and it’s just so nice you noticed I was gone.” He semi-smiled and backed away. Pretty sure he won’t ask me where I’ve been ever again.
But, still, I was seen. It was lovely.
Then, a call came in on my cell. I NEVER ANSWER MY PHONE unless it’s someone I know. But, I did today because I am awaiting my lab results. It was not the doctor, but, rather, an establishment with which I did business in the past, had an account, and where it turned out I had credits – credits enough to qualify for TWO HOUR LONG MASSAGES! WHAT?
You’ve no idea how very much I have been wanting a massage, but they are just too pricey and despite the fact that I was trained as a Certified Massage Therapist and give ridiculously fabulous massages myself — I am known for my skills with my hands and healing and I will brook no snarky remarks about that — I have been unable to find anyone who is skilled enough with whom to trade. I don’t enjoy light massage, I am a deep-tissue, work at the knot, make me scream sort of a guy, and it is very difficult to find anyone who does that sort of work. The last two I found both quit within six months of me finding them — AND AGAIN, NO SNARKY REMARKS — and my dream of finding a man who combines massage skills with a deep and abiding affection for me — well, let’s not, this is a post about a BEAUTIFUL DAY.
So, all that good — dear one on Twitter, fellow at the gym, a massage going to happen — things are looking up; why, any day now I will, no doubt, find myself an agent and a room with windows, privacy, blessed silence and uninterrupted quiet, and sunshine. Good day, dears. Love and Light to you.