So that's what my ceiling looks like.

Okay. I'm doing this because it's been a few days...but not because I think I have anything terribly interesting to say. Sometimes I think I do have terribly interesting things to say, but lately those things seem to be deposited in emails instead of on my blog. Yes, yes, I have a full and rich emailing life.

Right this very minute I would kill for a quiet place to be. I mean, really, truly quiet. Have I said this before? I believe I have. As soon as I am done this I am questing all over this damn house for some headache medicine that works.

I have been sicky for the last few days. I thought I felt it coming on during the run of Spice of Life Part 3, (you monkeys that missed it....I was REALLY funny in it), but thought I fought it off. Then, bammo, Wednesday I got slammed. I was supposed to go to Victoria for a couple of days to do an improv show and have a wee visit with some chums, but to no avail. Have laid here in my beddy bye since Wednesday afternoon. Today, Saturday, I did manage to drag myself to rehearsal, (for Spice of Life part 4, at the Fringe, ahem), but had to leave early due to frequent coughing fits and much dizziness. There is nothing about a crowded Skytrain that makes me feel better. Not the screaming babies, not the throngs of new english speakers snapping photos of Science World and BC Place as we whiz past. Yeauh, those'r gonna be grrreat pix.

Here's a nice thing about today, though. As I walked up Commercial Drive to the Skytrain I ran into several people that I was really happy to run into. Same on my way home. Including a woman from high school that I haven't seen in...good grief...15 years? More?! I also stopped at La Grotto deli and had one of their deeelicious $4 sandwiches. Mmmmm...so yummy. I would actually be feeling pretty good and perky and sociable, I think, if not for the sickness. Like, emotionally I am on a better footing than the last few weeks. I don't think I've been writing much about the last while as it has been a most confusing time. My therapist reminded me that there is still grieving to be done, and that it will still take me off guard. So I calmed down a bit when, after I told her everything that I was experiencing and how confusing and upsetting it's been and I wondered if she could fix me, she told me I seemed find and not broken. That I sounded sad, angry, confused, frustrated and messy, and that these sounded like grief to her.

For the first time since he died, I think it's the first time, something about it really felt like a first, I had a thought process about my dad that really hit me sideways. I was driving somewhere and I heard something or thought something or came to some conclusion, I really have no memory what it was in regards to. All I know is that my very next thought was, "I better remember that next time I have dinner with him." Then it hit me...no more dinners with him, I'll never be able to tell him that I had that thought. Oh, fuck, did it hit me. I know people say all the time how this happens, but it confounds me a bit. Ah, crap. I'm starting to cry now. And the house is full of people. Anyway, it set me off, for sure. In fact, I think it was right on my way to my therapy appointment. Convenient.

Does anyone have any particular advice on balance in one's life? Time management? Why does everything happen at once? Is there a way to get structure in an artist's life? I kind of can't wait until the Fringe is over and I can just work and do standup. (Yeah, I'm so sure that's all I'll do...). But, for serious, as much as I have enjoyed performing in these shows, I miss standup so bad. It has been an important lesson in not diverting myself from my chosen path.

So, I'm thinking about moving to Toronto. I'm thinking about the Spring. I'm thinking I gotta get outta here for a while so that I don't stay here for the rest of my damned life. It's just time. I want to go to NYC, but I think that'll come after Toronto. I think. The next couple of months will help to shed a lot of light on this. Once I'm back doing crazy amounts of standup shows I'll have a better idea of what my next move should be. Also, it may depend on what it looks like in terms of me getting an agent. Which is the next thing after the Fringe that I need to focus on. How long have I been saying that for? It's just that it's really, really time. I so much don't want to earn a living at anything but writing and performing any more. Why did it take me so long to come to that conclusion? As we've established, I'm a slow learner. (Math, no problem. Get it right away. Life skills...uh...longer.)

If you get a chance to eat at Chambar...do it. Oh, my, GOD. My darling Georgia just celebrated her 30th, (and what a year, darling...new baby, marriage proposal from father of said baby), and we had a fancy dinner at Chambar. Yum, yum, and again, yum. Plus, the service was outstanding. Our server was Robbie. I basically asked Robbie to take care of me all night, like, I asked him what drink I should have to start, and he brought me something lovely. Some kind of martini with blueberries in it. Then we had mussels. Mussels I will never forget. Some time when you want a light meal and a good drink, go there and get mussels. Get some bread for soaking up the sauce. Don't leave any sauce behind. Then I asked Robbie for direction on the entree and he brought me the lamb shank. Well, I nearly wept it melted in my mouth so. I asked him to bring a glass of wine to compliment it and he came through with flying colours. A bite of lamb, a sip of wine, a taste sensation like no other. And the port he brought, well, Robbie, here's to ya.

By the way, I have never, never, seen my girl Georgia look more radiantly beautiful than she did that night. Altogether lately, she has been looking incredible. This motherhood thing, it seems to do wonders for my women friends. Right until they go back to work. Hm. Mat leave, eh?

Also, I saw the 40 Year Old Virgin. So funny. So so so so funny. Oh, so funny.

Hm, me hungy.



urban_improv said...

When I really miss my dad is when I see something I know he'd have liked. A computer game, some new scientific breakthrough or when my nephew learns something cool.

As for balance in life, when you find out, let me know.

If it makes you happy to go to TO then I'm all for it, but you'll be missed on this coast.

Anonymous said...

As I mentioned in an earlier e-mail, I finally after 9 months, was able to go through your dad's bedside table. I know of what you speak, and I know that you know that I know. Finding his weird little pipe and a film canaster's worth of bud was only part of the journey. The other part was the matches he had kept from our honeymoon. A picture of me at four years old. A condom. A condom!!! What a prehistoric relic that was! His two totems, the eagle and the otter, in weird ceramics. His eagle dish held a bunch of Mexican currency, as if he felt he could go back there any minute. His otter, a Christmas dec, was missing a foot. Or a hoof. I don't know what otters have. Some painkillers and some insulin. Some "Breathe Rights" for his snoring. Some earplugs, for mine, maybe? A meditation CD. Some soaps Gerry had brought him from the UK. One said "Elvisly yours" from a shop of the same name from the East End of London. Emblazoned with a "Jailhouse Rock" era Elvis on it. And the other had a map of Scotland on it. Both soaps said if you use these soaps regularly, the images will fade. A card from the bar we loved the most on our honeymoon in St. Martin. "Bye Bar Brazil" Where we were able to get a tomato salad and Macallan's whisky at 3:00 in the morning. A few screws and nails. Some dust and crumbs.

This is a life, and this is a death.

I love you very much. I wish you nothing but good things and if that means going to T.O, I will support that too.

smooches for days,