I did it, I did it! Finished the story for the 3-Day Novel Writing Contest on Labour(sic) Day Weekend. I'll never be the same (good lord, everything I say turns out to be the title of some old song from childhood...never be the same in this world...) If there is more I've forgotten it.

I was ruthless...used everyone I know, and some rather badly, in the story. Poor K got beaten up and J wound up in a bar, being stalked by a killer. I had a nice call from Gail to wish me happy birthday, so I threw her in as a therapist. Well, I told her I would and she said it was OK. I was up until dawn on Sunday night...when stationary things began to move around, I figured I'd better get some sleep and set my alarm and conked out. I lived on the fried chicken and potato salad Ana went and got for me, plus the lovely cherry pie...I am having another piece right now. She also got me some white zinfandel to have to salute the end, which I am doing, having sent Anastasia off to the Post Office today with the printed copy of "Obsessions, Passions, Fixations, Oh My..." and I was certainly happy to see it go in its little blue and white jacket from the P.O. It's gotten quite expensive to send anything to Canada...that little package cost me $10.95. I guess it's gone up in the US also though...I didn't bother to find out. It's only going up over the border to BC, so that seems like a lot.

Elvira will be back tomorrow and Sylvia and I will be happy to see her. We had a strange substitute Tuesday. She reminded me of nothing so much as a tiny Uncle Miltie. She came in, did the phone bit, went out to the kitchen and put on her plastic gloves, which were too large for her, and raced around, throwing stuff into the waste basket and folding and rearranging everything in the bedroom. She cleaned out all the big cardboard things I had stuffed under the cabinet in the bathroom and the place looks magnificent. Luckily she was too busy in the other rooms to come in and toss all my stuff in here, or I would never again see my 'important' papers. God knows what's gone, but right now I don't know so I don't care. Every time she came and did something for me I expected some of the Uncle Miltie schtik and sometimes got it. She even had dyed black hair...fabulous. Good thing she left at five...having to push the phone buttons a million times with those funny long plastic gloves...wonderful.

My crazy French phone in the bedroom fell and did something terrible to itself...half the time people can't get me, as it slides off. I may have to abandon it, but I hate to. And crazy Ms.Katt has taken to resting on top of my Dover bag, which is on top of my briefcase and my new gorgeous Levenger messenger bag (half-price sale!!) I'm afraid I have a thing for Levenger products. I cannot resist red leather accessories! Or the 'bomber jacket' leather series. Now I need somewhere to go to carry the lovely things. I got some new cards...purple, of course, and I had to have a new case for them. It is red and holds a little pad for writing also. One of these days I'll try to get more of my lovely fold-over cards that I used to write information on. Have to map them all out again and that is a chore. My new cards list me as Poet, writer, eccentric. That's me!

Late Night Musings...

What I learned today: I am now told that the correct way to say aluminum is to use the English enunciation -- al-u-min-i-um, so I guess one must add the extra 'i' also. Strange. And what dictionary told us this... I have no idea. I guess I wasn't listening that intently.

I still cannot put any weight on my right foot without great pain ensuing. Have just about decided that it is a recurrence of the gout I had so many years ago, so I shall avoid all innards and all the other things one must eschew (have to look on the Internet and get a list) and hope it will stop stabbing me constantly and waking me up in the middle of the night. Most annoying. This would happen just when I was getting out and getting some exercise... now I shall have to begin again, if the stabbing stops. I found the elastic stockings from the knee ops, so I shall use them when I go out. I do want to go to some of the things in the S.F. Fringe Festival. Have been trying to find Joe Bullock as he usually knows all these people, but he has disappeared like all my friends seem to just when I need them.

At least I have written the bit I do with Mel for the Poetry Reading on Aug.25 in Yerba Buena Gardens... and the new 'Health Care' nursery rhyme for same. Hard to write when in pain. I do hope it is gone before Labour Day weekend and the 3-Day Novel Writing Contest, as I am determined to enter that this year. Which reminds me... I had better fill out the entry form, write them a check and get it in. Then I will surely write. So, off to bed now so I can get up early and get all the other stuff done -- letters to kidlets and clear out all the pileups of unopened and unread mail, both snail and emails -- too damned many of both for one person to handle. I need a secretary again... or a 'wife' or a bonfire... or perhaps all three.

Today I received something in the mail I have been wanting for a long time... of course, the mail people ran over it with a truck and broke the case, but the CD is OK, I'm pretty sure. It's a copy of Lee Wiley's "West of the Moon" album. Oh, if only I had that voice. She could slide from note to note like no one ever has... her phrasing is astounding, and that soft, almost Memphis accent, backed by some of my old Dixieland buddies from NYC... perfect. I'll listen to the whole thing tomorrow and feel like I'm back in New York. This is the album that all the musicians love... me too, me too. The title song just knocks me out.

Having spent the day not only getting my poetry writing done, but also working on getting the word out on health care reform, I am very tired... and so to bed... but before I leave, a quote of Mel Books' from an old favorite film, "The Twelve Chairs": "Hope for the best, expect the woist!"

"But I NEED it!"

The quote above is from Mark, aged from around four up... Elvira and I have a great little comedy act going using those words. I told her about Mark, usually the perfect child, when he really wanted something, his cry was 'But I NEED it!" The answer, of course, is "NO, you WANT it!" or the actual truth. So my cry these days goes out to unhearing and uncaring ears... "Damn, I NEED it." Silly me, I am suffering from a lack of give-and-take that I have had for nine long years with that miserable deserter, Kirk. I got used to getting a daily letter full of love and understanding and bright, intelligent conversation about likes and dislikes, interesting tidbits about everything...always something one could get one's teeth into and answer in much the same way it was given, and give back something with which to do the same. God...does that make any sense at all, even to me? What was the charm...perhaps just two crazy minds full of trivia...but always written with love and good humour. And then, as my life continued on in much the same easy, even manner, his completely fell apart and I guess he simply fell back on the whole pack of people he had supported all the years in the past, who never gave a damn about him, but still needed him for support. I didn't need him for support physically, but, oh, my mind, heart and head sure did and I guess always will. He was one of a kind -- sweet, gentle, so bright, and a someone who could have finished my sentences for me. I loved his long, strong arms around me, yes, but I loved the words that flowed from that capacious brain down through those long fingers into the computer even more. He was my brick, my Lancelot, my lover, my friend, and the reality that he is gone is almost beyond comprehension. So, is it any wonder that I say, I NEED it and mean I WANT it back...or even a pale copy might be nice......sure.


Cri-men-ettly (what is that from?...where did I learn it?) Barry and Kirk can't be the only people on this earth with whom I can have a mind-meld, can they? When we were together, we never shut up...the conversation was fast and furious....well so was the sex....but it was the constant "me too, me too, me too," that was the most fascinating. To be able to finish the last half of a favorite quotation, to the recognition of a poetry style...to...to I suppose just knowing that the 'other' KNEW what you were talking about. Granted, I shall never see another Barry race across the room, thrown himself at my feet, kiss my hand and say, "Hi, I'm Barry, who are you?" At my age, the poor guy coouldn't get up off the floor again... but there MUST be more than two others in this huge population who know what I am talking about. Maybe not, maybe I have worn out my welcome. However, once I get past the novel writing contest, perhaps I shall try another 'personals ad.' God I hate even the sound of that! But this time, maybe to someone FAR, FAR away...just to write to...never to get in the least involved with...never to 'get hurt' you mean, don't you? Yeah!

So, back to the drawing board. But this time, I am really getting busy and practicing my craft, so to speak, for the big 3-Day Novel Writing Contest. I have three 'ideas' this year, which is more than ever before, as in previous years I simply started writing, not even knowing where I might be going. Had to scrap a whole half day of stuff one year...dumb idea. I've been gearing up by writing little stories for my book about Jessie (mother), who was a great source of stories and I am finally getting them down on paper (well, 'on computer'), a good way to get the old mind going. Wrote three last night late, and will write more tonight. I find that I write best after around 3 pm. However, I shall get plenty of sleep and manage to eat real meals during the 3-Day, I always do, and can still get well over 100 pages of writing done. I do wish I could remember some dreams right now, as they can be my best source for fiction. I tend to dream movies in full color, and often with known 'stars.' I used one of my dreams for a 3-Day novel, and I thought it was pretty good...but lacked the swearing they seem to love. Those Canadians... you never know. And I always found them a bit stiff. Not in their writing, I guess.

Time for dinner. I had best get with it. I shall make myself a nice little potato salad with LOTS of celery (still loaded with that) and some purple onion. Someone put a bowl of cut onion in my fridge, without a cover! Yuk! I do hope everything doesn't smell of onion now. Retraining will be in order this next week! My foot is still killing me to walk on, but I must get used to it, if not over it, as I cannot just sit here with it 'up.' Onward and upward.....ah, well......