VirusHead

Just when I had loads and loads to blog about, I got knocked down by oak pollen. I just knew those trees were hostile. There is too far too much to tell, so here’s just a very quick summary.

• Equinox Weekend – Inconsolably depressed, and for no good, acceptable (rational) reason.

  Spiraling outside my will. Surrounded by a wall. Falling down a well.

  But then… the thunder quieted a little and – between the soundcracks of the whirlwind – I began to hear multiple voices in my spirit.

  … wake up… wake up… wake up, love… look who’s here to see you…

  Friends. Light. Comfort….

  Take heart…. open your eyes… Arise!

  And then the gifts arrived, one after another…

• 3/24 – Dinner at the fantastic Rathbun’s Restaurant with Joseph and Marie-Claude and David. Friend vibes overwhelming – like an angel rescue. Readers of this blog will already know how much I admire Joseph and his work. I hadn’t seen him since I was last in Paris, and if anything, we’re more simpático now than we were then. It was totally lovely to meet Marie-Claude at last, and so fun to sneak out for a smoke with David. Even our waiter was fun. Oh! The food! They had yummy Wellfleet clams, and the Lamb Scaloppini was to die for. Oh! The conversation. I was totally relaxed and free. I haven’t had so much fun in ages. Just what I needed – thank you, cosmos.
  

  Heidi, Joseph, David, Marie-Claude

  

  John, Heidi and Joseph

• 3/26 – The big event – Joseph’s terra incOgnitO gallery opening at David’s beautiful Wm. Turner Gallery in Atlanta.

  Take a look at the art! I’m writing an essay on the artwork (stay tuned), but meanwhile listen to this interview. Since Joseph’s art was on the cover, they also had a copy of John’s book there. Very nice.

  

  Friends turned up! Jerry was embroiled in conversations brilliant. Robert and Sloane (who appeared with a baby! how did they hide that little gem from us?!?!?) dropped in and on such as day as that there is much hugging. Geoff and Curzio got in some good conversations with Joseph and John, and I drank champagne and reveled in my happiness level. We went out for snackies afterwards and I got to meet David’s wife – a very cool woman who is – unfortunately – allergic to Facebook. Wah. I was able to speak at greater length with Marie-Claude, and hear all about their impressions of Atlanta. There were foot rubs! Perfect evening.

• 3/27 – Jeff and Ann made a very brief swoop-in visit to Atlanta for an occasion, and we arranged to meet them with some of their friends at Manuel’s Tavern (prior to having dinner at Cafe di Sol). Manuel’s is the hangout of Atlanta liberals – yes, we exist! John and I showed up at the appointed hour, and it was hilarious because we wandered all around seeking but not finding. I had never actually met Jeff or Ann. I adore all of Jeff’s fiction (read him – he’s top notch – really, maybe the best living American writer) and we had all become friends via online interconnections, but I wasn’t completely confident about picking them out at a crowded bar/restaurant. John and I did several circuits around the place, garnering some curious looks, but didn’t see them anywhere. We saw a young woman standing outside, also looking around and waiting, but we didn’t think to ask her if she was looking for them, too. Finally, we walked down the street to see if they had decided just to go straight to Cafe di Sol – which turned out to be the old Cafe Diem where I spent far too much time as a graduate student. Nope.

  Finally, we went back to Manuel’s and ordered a drink at the bar. That was fortuitous, since we then became involved in conversation with two very charming men – one who lived in a part of France that we’ve wanted to visit (John cornered him for details), and another that I clicked with right away – he works at GA Tech and is originally from New York. We were soon trading stock phrases in northern accents and having a grand time. We all exchanged contact information…. Then, I had a sensation on the back of my skull, looked toward the door, and there they were, just walking in!

  And yes, the beautiful young woman – Desirina – a talented writer in her own right- had also been waiting. Along with were more creative cool friends Will and Sara – but I hardly even got to talk with them at all! Why? Why? Because the restaurant was too darned noisy, that’s why! The old Cafe Diem was always more subdued – it was easier to talk then.

  

  Sara, Desirina, Heidi, Ann, John, Jeff

  John and Jeff huddled – it sounded like it was probably a fun conversation, but I only got little bits of it. I’m sorry for that, because I would have liked to talk more with Jeff, but I can’t complain because I had a fabulous time talking with Ann. She brought us issues of the magazine she edits – Weird Tales. Yes, that’s right – THE Weird Tales. Why I don’t already have a subscription to that, I have no idea (that’s been rectified). The magazine is on the ballot for a Hugo this year. Even against the steep competition, I think they’re going to take it. Ann is an amazing woman – I love her, and she is henceforth considered to be my sister, with all associated benefits.

  

  Ann with Digital Kitty

  Click! Click-click – CLICK! Thank you, benevolent deities, inc.

• 3/28 – Ok, now I’m officially over-socialled and crashing fast, but there’s more! Dear friends Mark and Marty threw a rock-climbing birthday party for their son – this was in addition to the new puppy, lucky kid. John wasn’t feeling well, so I packed up Ben and off we went.

  This is the second year they’ve done this, and there’s a confluence between me, the rock-climbing place, and the presence of pounding rain. As I approach this building, it’s pelting rain. Once I enter the building, the rain dies down and stops. Silly, you say?

  Yes, but oh, it goes further! I accompanied Mark to go fetch the pizza and ice-cream cake. Again, as we approached the building – RAIN! Once inside… no rain. It made me feel a little like Tyrone Slothrop in Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow. Sometimes even magical paranoia can be fun. We had a low-key and enjoyable afternoon. I got exactly three photos before my cellphone died. Great expression, Marty!

  

  Marty

  Oh, Mark: Linen which?

• Well, then it hit. The pollen. Pollen! Pollen! More Pollen! It knocked me out for most of last week, and I’m not quite recovered even yet. But how could I let a shining week like that go by without comment?

  Thank you to my beautiful lovely smart creative wonderful friends of the spirit. You make me remember.

Some excitement. Hailstones! Look at these!

Three Hailstones

I rushed out and made room to shelter one of the cars in the garage. That was something else! I never knew I could move all that stuff so fast!

Tornado Warning until 6:30 pm EST Wednesday

A tornado has been sighted or indicated by radar in your area – seek shelter immediately!

Oops! Better run!

Nestled front and center against a huge cumulus cloud, the moon looks like a hole in the sky tonight. My camera can’t capture the mood, but there is a fiery/faerie halo around the whole moon. It’s beautiful. It rained last night, so the full moon was hidden, but tonight’s moon still looks pretty full to me.

Moon over Atlanta

“Then came old January wrapped well
In many weeds to keep the cold away;
Yet did he quake and quiver, like to quell,
And blow his nails to warm them if he may.”
- Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queen

I’m cold. I can’t get warm tonight.

I’m sending out hope and care and love and light to so many people I know, people I care about who have lost jobs and lost houses. There’s one smashed up car and one damaged car, a fire, and several scary medical emergencies. I’m hearing about a fair bit of smallness and meanness and drama of one kind or another, and also about how people are having a hard time making ends meet, and who are trying to navigate very difficult terrain. It seems like this should be a time when we all pull together and be more helpful and supportive of one another. Even among those who are doing relatively fine, there seems to be a widespread tendency to depression and fatigue. Perhaps it’s normal for the post-holiday January blahs, especially considering the snow and ice and flooding and who knows what else.

I’m thinking about one friend in particular tonight, a woman who not only had to go through what had to be a very frightening experience when her lovepartner had a brain aneurysm, but then had to deal with a family member who blamed the incident on the fact that her religious beliefs weren’t identical to his own. As if God would punish her – and through someone she loved – for her non-compliance to some spiritual midget’s unthinking person’s standards. Now she’s being threatened with disassociation from the rest of the family because she had the courage to point out that such a statement wasn’t very caring or supportive of family in a medical crisis. This young woman has already been through so much. She is a very compassionate and caring person. She is blunt when confronting unfairness, but she is also just learning how to really articulate a lot of things that have been painful and destructive to her – as well as things that she has learned through her own experience and insight. She is courageous and curious and she loves her boyfriend and the animals she rescues and the friends in her life. She will be ok, I know – but I can also palpably feel her sense of betrayal and pain. It must be awfully hard to deal with that on top of navigating the medical system and trying to make sure that her boyfriend is taken care of properly. He’s a stellar guy – intelligent and creative – and I know they’ll support one another through all this. He’s already doing much better. I hope that she can focus on being with him, and bracket out the rest – at least for a little while until the whole situation has a time-out.

Sometimes, though, when I hear about these things, I’m struck by the anti-agapic qualities of so many people who think they are religious, and I feel a little sick. I know that it means a lot to offer caring and support, but I also feel helpless. I have empathy, and a tendency to try to heal hurts – even just imaginatively. You never know what might help. But what do you say to someone when you can’t make anything better or easier for them? I’m thrashing around half the time myself.

I tried to watch the news tonight, and I actually couldn’t bear it. I had to walk away. I’m freezing and I can’t seem to reset my thermostat. I can’t get warm. I’m tired.

I’m thinking about all kinds of changes – how life moves on, whether or not you’re ready. I know that I have to keep starting again, and that a more hopeful-trusting-positive attitude would be vastly preferable for me. It works… then it doesn’t work. I’m full of confidence and creative ideas, then everything deflates and I find myself looking at some small small rock on the ground for ten minutes – or I realize that I’ve daydreamed several contradictory scenarios trying to work something out when I haven’t even identified what I’m practicing for – why am I creating conversations in my head? They have nothing to do with the dialogue that I’ve been trying to write – it would be great if they were. I’ve dreamed people that don’t exist, and places I’ve never been, and situations that will never exist. And I revise them – for nothing, really. It doesn’t help to know that my internal scenes are passing, and what seems so emotionally fraught will seem somewhat inconsequential and silly at some later time. It’s like when you’re a kid and you attach yourself to a song and it seems so meaningful, and then years later you have to laugh, just remembering how important and serious it seemed at the time.

I’ve been fine, then not fine, then depressed, then creative, then hopeful, then tired, then depressed again… and I’m really losing interest in my own thoughts and feelings. I just want to curl up with a book. Everything I have on hand that I haven’t already read is spiritually uplifting and hopeful and again – another wave of nausea at the thought.

I know it’s all very silly. I know that I am loved – despite how difficult I can make that – and that the wheel will turn. As scary as it can sometimes be, change is something that can be counted on. Things will change, and then they’ll change some more – everything is always in process. Trying to hang on to a static reality is deadly, anyway. It’s best to pay attention, adjust, ride it through – or surf it if you can – and be open to the bl(i)ssings as they arrive over the top of the other side.

Life in Atlanta seems so unreal and disconnected and wrong sometimes. I like some things about being here, but it’s stifling and isolating and I can’t help but feel that overall it’s unhealthy for my spirit, mind and body. I feel like I’m walking in a ditch. I feel like I’m trapped in plastic wrap.

There are probably a lot of other places that I would enjoy. In the States, I feel that I’d like Washington or Oregon, maybe parts of California. I enjoy some places in the southwest – at least to visit. I love New England, but I’m not sure that I’d really do well there over the long-term.

Every once in a while, I wish I could have stayed in Paris.

Here are some things that I hold dear in my memory:

• Our tiny studio apartment on the top floor of a building on Rue des Carmes, in the Latin Quarter, Left Bank, 5th arrondissement. Rooftop access allowed us to view the city from a spectacular viewpoint between Notre Dame Cathedral and the Panthéon. Because of a strange arrangement of windows, we could see Notre Dame from inside the shower!
• Food! Every kind of food. I never had a bad meal. Even when I received a pig’s foot (thinking I was ordering pork chops) it was delicious. I ate everything – and was thin.
• The intellectual style, the flirtatious style, the rude style – every style. I have never been so fascinated by other people.
• Street markets overflowing with gorgeous fragrant fruit – and the lilacs that I could never resist.
• Walking. I walked everywhere. I was never so fit. There was something new to explore around every corner. Glorious places, historical monuments, public gardens, the riverwalk, hearing street music, getting caught up in a parade.
• Trying to buy nail polish remover over the counter.
• The long nights. It seemed as though Paris nights last forever. We would stay up until 2 or 3, and never feel it.
• Dear friends. You know who you are – and one is gone forever.
• Bookstores and booksellers – lot of places to find amazing things to read, even in English.
• The ambiance that somehow allowed me to feel free and happy – and a little wild. I felt comfortable being myself.
• John was teaching in Lille, so he stayed there for part of the week, and we had a rhythm of some days together and some days apart. That worked out very well for both of us.
• Throwing my high-heeled shoes over the bridge and walking across Paris – stockingfooted – in the middle of the night.
• The wonderful woman in a nearby pâtisserie who taught me the words for everything in a bakery – and relentlessly corrected my pronunciation.
• The crazy shops of Montmarte and the Basilica of the Sacré Cœur at the tippity-top of the city.
• Excellent public transportation! The Métro is easy and fun, and I’ve never been on a faster train than the TGV.
• The Parisian way of saying “oui” – with an in-breath, and the hint of a long “a” at the end.
• Père-Lachaise Cemetery, especially the tomb of Abélard and Héloïse and the wonderful sculpture over Oscar Wilde.
• Centre Georges Pompidou. I could wander around in there forever.
• Movies! Tons of movies!
• I loved almost everywhere we went, especially throughout Haute-Provence and Haute-Savoie. My favorite meal was in a crypt in Dijon.

I could go on and on.

The contrast – and not just because I was young and in love – is so striking.

I feel a strong desire to be living in some place where there are a lot of vital, creative, intelligent people. I miss and want an intellectual community – live, not only just over the internet. I miss debating. I miss the rules of dialogue and discourse.

At the same time, I can’t really blame anyone but myself for my isolation. It’s not as though there aren’t great people here in Atlanta, too – and I’ve withdrawn somewhat voluntarily. I just don’t feel that I have anything to contribute to the various scenes here. I don’t belong here.

Maybe it’s just being married, being a mom. Maybe it’s that I’m much more tired than I used to be, and it’s hard to motivate myself to leave the home nest. Maybe it’s that my working hours take up so much of my time and energy now that I feel guilty leaving my son and husband to do much of anything else outside. I’m already gone so much. It might get better when Ben is old enough not to need childcare.

I think the biggest factor, though, is that so many of my good friends have moved on. Who can I call anymore – even to go catch a movie? As far as the more local options are concerned, I’m not a member of any church – which seems to be the major venue – and I feel too old to be involved in music, or even the art world. I’m not an academic anymore, and truthfully I don’t have very much interest in engaging with the kind of intellectual life I see.

Today I had lunch with a dear former neighbor. It was so fun just to go out to lunch with her and help her a little on some computer things. We ran into someone else that we both knew – and who didn’t know that we knew each other. Such a little thing – three women laughing – made me realize how much I miss things like that.

John and Evan and Ben took the opportunity to go hiking up Stone Mountain. They had a fun time and I was trying to think about the last time we all did something like that all together. I think I’m probably the party-pooper of the bunch – they even had to drag me out to launch the rocket. I wonder if it would have been different if we had had another child – a girl, maybe. Too late for that, though – I’m just outnumbered. Or maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference. Maybe I’m just becoming too introverted.

I can’t decide if I’m just trying to hang onto a life I should have abandoned long ago (maybe even a romanticized version of it) or if I really have just become a hopelessly boring old woman. I don’t know how other people manage to do all the things they do. I can only do anything in bursts of energy that don’t come along as often as they used to. Maybe it’s just the winter doldrums.

Years ago, I made a tape that I called my K-Tel Self-Pity Collection. Those same songs don’t let me sigh and weep and be morbidly self-absorbed and morose in nearly as satisfying a way anymore, so I’m looking for new items.. I mean, how many years can you listen “Shilo” or “Daniel” anyway?

Do you any have suggestions for really good music for wallowing in depression/sadness (until you can get sick of it and work your way out)?

If I’m going to feel sorry for myself, I’d like to do it right.

Wow – thanks for sending, Peggy!

Click for full image.