… such beauty … the music …

I have lived an incredibly gorgeous life in many, many ways … and especially magical has been the presence of the magic of musical theatre and what it has done for me and meant to me … and tonight I have been listening to such gorgeousness … here is some of it … first of all, Miss Julia Murney singing Kander & Ebb’s “Colored Lights:

And Audra McDonald and Norm Lewis singing Gershwin … Please. Could a year begin any better?

And 33 years ago and STILL it hasn’t been equalled … oh man, Broadway musicals are so ridiculously MAGICAL …

And, oh lord … this?

Or, oh my god, this?

Or this version of it … what a hilarious genius …

Which takes me here …

And, naturally, back to Audra – oh such love …

And that makes me want to laugh a bit and so …

And I couldn’t start a “new year” without this genius and gift to music …

Now, I have to go to sleep . . . goodnight and good year my dears … I am off to dream of being assimilated …

… sunday rant 2 … It’s been nice knowing you … AND GET ME A COFFEE!!

I am sitting in my very private, very lovely room, on my very lovely couch, reading my Sunday New York Times and in the background there are football pre-game shows on. I am wondering to myself how I became this person? And I am whining too.

Here’s the whine why. I want – just for a little while – someone to go out and GET ME the Sunday New York Times every week – and a Starbucks coffee treat. Now, I should NOT whine, because this morning – despite my parking lot road rage traffic issue to which I referred in my first Sunday rant (click here to see) – I did FIND a Sunday NYTimes and at Starbucks I paid for my drink with a gift card from a friend who is doing The Happiness Project and out of the blue presented me with a gift card the other day. SO I KNOW I AM LUCKY.

BUT THE FUCKING HOLIDAYS APPROACH. And I HATE the holidays.

And, too, I’m feeling a little bit lonely. Well. Maybe MORE than a little bit. And maybe not really lonely – that’s not it. See, this feeling of not lonely but lonely has been exacerbated this week by events like climbing onto a display in a department store to remove a Christmas sweatshirt from a dummy because it was the only one in my Mother’s size, and fulfilling requests from a couple of children I know for various baking chores, game attending, etc – and so filled have been my past few weeks with doing stuff for other people – that it brought to mind how many years I spent holiday seasons (and pretty much every day of my life) doing things OTHER people WANTED me to do to fulfill them and their stories – so I spent my holidays putting up trees (and taking them down) and cleaning and cooking and – well – it doesn’t matter what the list of things that filled my time is during holidays and most other days – but I was holding up OTHER PEOPLE’S DREAMS and helping OTHER PEOPLE become themselves and live for themselves – I was a support pole.

And when I needed support in return, the people for whom I had most bent and worked and – well, they pretty much fucked me over, slandered me, threw me under buses, disappeared, pretended I had never twisted myself into knots for them, etc – and this week – I saw one of them. And he pretended not to. And he broke my heart.

In fact, my heart breaks pretty much every day from that sort of thing – because it never goes away, the empty spaces I CARVED out of my heart for people who happily spit on that. And walked away. And betrayed my trust and love. And lied about it.

There is a scene in the movie version of the musical “FUNNY GIRL” in which Flo Ziegfield’s current mistress, Georgia, played by Anne Francis, tells his newest star, Fanny Brice, played by Barbra Streisand, who has just stood up to Flo and questioned his presumptive and tyrannical authority, that she – Fanny – must tell Flo when he arrives on stage to scream at and berate her that she was wrong. Fanny says to Georgia, “But I’m not wrong.” And Georgia, smiling, says, “Well then, it’s been nice knowing you.”

Anne Francis Barbra Streisand Funny Girl

I get that. This week a dear friend suggested to me that I try to remedy a relationship issue by just saying I was wrong – even though I was not. That whole “would you rather be right, or happy?” Well, here’s the thing. I do miss some people who used to be in my life, but I miss the people I thought they were. I don’t miss the people they seem to have become who would judge me as they have, as “wrong” in situations where I was neither wrong nor at fault – in which, in many ways, I was wronged. Why in the world would I want to spend time with people who jumped to conclusions and formed opinions about me and spun their stories about me in which I was a villain?

So, no. I wasn’t wrong. And if you’re loving me or being around me is dependent upon me admitting to a crime I didn’t commit, I guess I’d rather live without you. Because I don’t need people who see me in ugly, negative, uninformed, not in my Light and Love ways in my life.

And I am sad that you people – and you know who you are – saw fit and see fit to treat me in that way.

And I want the Sunday New York Times and a coffee and to be loved that much – and some of you who did the awful things you did – should be the ones doing those nice things for me – and I just don’t get it.

Rant 2. Done.

… diva turns … detours … turns … de-turns … wrong turns … i’m lost …

I am used to being lost. Literally. Then I got a Garmin. Unfortunately, there is no spiritual Garmin to tell me where to turn. How to get there. Wherever THERE might be. AND, tonight – I managed to break my Garmin. Which is a fucking – well – not so much – but which is a DISASTER. Now, not only will I continue this spiritual wandering, but I won’t know how to get ANYWHERE, here, where I am – well – TRYING to go.

DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN.

I should be asleep. I should be. But I am watching DIVA-TURNS. I have watched/listened to six versions of ROSE’S TURN so far. And four of AND EVE WAS WEAK. And Betty Buckley’s SUNSET BOULEVARD finale performance four times. It’s on now, as I am typing. I saw her during her last week in the role, and coming back from dinner later, there she was coming out to her limo, I was encouraged to go over to her – but I was so ridiculously moved by her performance, so awestruck and emptied, I couldn’t speak. I just stood there and wept. She was so kind, her arm around me, holding me, until finally she looked at the crowd – thinking I was somehow differently abled – and said, “Does he belong to anyone?”

Now I am crying, because, no, I didn’t. I never have. It makes me a little sad. Right now. I don’t belong to anyone. I don’t belong to. I don’t belong. I don’t.

At 11:20pm tonight a dear, dear friend – my A -sent me a text; she is playing Carrie in “CARRIE: THE MUSICAL” which is enough to make a life wonderful, but, tonight during curtain call, she was proposed to.

Now, let me say this about that: I have long been obsessed with “CARRIE: THE MUSICAL” and long, long ago I knew I had won a HUGE prize of friendship when my dear, dear J presented me with bootleg recordings of both the Stratford version starring Barbara Cook and the Broadway version starring Betty Buckley. It was the beginning of years of J gifting me with rare recordings and gifts of things I’d only dreamed of hearing – he also sent me a bootleg of Ms Buckley in “SUNSET” and her performance as Mama Rose in “GYPSY”. Here are some ROSE’S TURNS.

(Tyne is my dear J’s favorite Rose. I didn’t see her.)

(Angela is my Mama Rose – I saw her when I was 12 and this performance was the greatest I have EVER seen anywhere, still un-equalled)

I used to dream I’d play Fanny Brice and Mama Rose. I had a lot of dreams. And so …

So, A, who I love dearly, is engaged. Proposed to on stage. During curtain calls. When playing Carrie.

So, long about 11:45 I went out. Long story. By the time I got home at 2am, my Garmin was crushed, I needed a shower, and I thought I lost my phone – but I found it in the back seat, sort of half under a jacket and … well, look, I’m not engaged.I am quite alone.

You won’t. I should get that. Look, this isn’t a musical. I’m not having curtain calls. I’m not playing or directing Carrie.

I spent hours today and tonight making chili. Which has to slow cook until Sunday to actually be ready. It’s my own recipe, a combination of many others, with touches of my own, and requires the roasting of fresh tomatoes and five kinds of peppers, the reconstituting of another two kinds of peppers in boiling beer, the braising and browning of three kinds of meat – brisket, pork shoulder, bacon, and three kinds of beans, and another few secret ingredients which are pureed with the roasted vegetables as part of the base, added in a particular order to the pot – the huge pot – which begins with the sweated/sautéed onions and garlic in special spices bought at the international market, and four spice dumps – all particular of weight and order – and … it is an intense and long process which results in something I think is very delicious and on Sunday, when it has cooked for a few days, I will make cornbread to go with it.

I am a really good cook. The person who crushed my Garmin thinks my name is Sebastian and knows nothing about any shows I’ve ever done or songs I’ve ever sung or chili I have made and … I don’t know that I can continue to be this person in this life for one more winter …

I need to GET OUT OF HERE … but without ANY SORT OF GARMIN TO GUIDE ME … how the fuck do I do that?