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.

Ok, it’s a first, but I was in a celebratory mood. We went to see a show at a Baptist church in Stone Mountain. John wasn’t feeling that well, but he still went with me (thank you, my sweet hubby).

I didn’t know where the venue was, and all day Friday I was trying to find where “The Bridge” could possibly be at Stone Mountain Park. The covered bridge? It seemed unlikely. Finally (and thanks for the link, B!) I found out - ah! - The Bridge at Mountain Park, in Stone Mountain the city, a small auditorium connected with the First Baptist Church. Oh. Well, despite my studies in religion and my mystical imperatives I have to admit that a Baptist community - especially in Georgia - is not a place that anyone would normally find me, even in curiosity and exploration. Baptists are just too close to the Jehovah’s Witnesses in their literalism and such. Still - I had to go. Kevin Max was playing.

Kevin Max has been my Facebook friend for a while (and he’s the only friend ahead of me in Vampires). I love his voice, and we share some interests in common. I suspect that his God is something very close to mine. And I think we both understand some aspects of darkness and lightness, and transcendence - although it may be that he is more apocalyptic than I am. We’re both poets, and I really enjoy his poetry, too.

It was a blast. Not that many people turned up, but that just made it all the more cozy and enjoyable for me. We got there early, and I stuck my head in and saw the Nick Savage Band practicing. At first, from a distance, I thought Nick was Kevin (John was amused. “That guy has no idea who on earth you are.” Enough said.)

Nobody was around yet so we couldn’t pick up the tickets I had ordered, but it didn’t look like there was going to be a huge crowd so we went down the street to a seedy-looking bar and had a beer. Two older guys at one end of the bar were discussing when it was that humans first had written language. One of them had an almost supernaturally deep voice. They were interrupted by a husky-voiced and still fairly attractive older women who stood between them and proclaimed, “I’m the rose between two thorns.” I love listening in to bar conversations. There is something almost universal about it. I was hit on twice on my way to the rest room. It was that kind of a place. And there is something so quintessentially American about the church and the bar existing side-by-side.

When we went back to The Bridge, a very cordial but semi-official looking man greeted us at the door. He introduced himself and shook our hands and assured us that we were at the right place.

Everything was very informal after that, and I have to say that I didn’t get any bad vibe there at all. I really shouldn’t let my religious scar tissue continue to affect my expectations so much. At the end of the concert, the young pastor encouraged everyone to choose this as our church, mentioned the next in the concert series, and wished us a blessed night. Nothing wrong with that - I liked it. So that’s one less closed place in my heart. Very good.

It must be strange to be an overtly Christian musician. One obstacle is the crowd. A crowd like this - supersensitive to sin and suspicious toward any kind of fun - doesn’t seem able to feel comfortable enough to enjoy the music. Maybe they do - they certainly knew Kevin Max - but they do it in a very restrained way. They were a bit stiff, unsure. At any other kind of venue I would have been moving to the music, but I couldn’t be the ONLY one dancing. Well, not anymore (grin).

Kevin’s voice is truly amazing. He’s got a great range and that certain kind of timbre that really appeals to me. I’ve been listening to his songs for months now, but live music is always different and I enjoy it more. I was sitting in the front row, rapt.

While he was singing “What if I Stumble” I was worried the whole time that he would stumble! There were big bulky grey cords all over the place, including where he was standing.

At a crucial point in the middle of “Stay,” Eric Cole’s guitar string did not stay. It went BOIINGG!

Eric kept playing - rather heroically - until they just gave it up, laughing. Nick Savage jumped up on stage and offered him the other guitar that you can see in the picture.

And then the mike failed!

Kevin made a comment about not backing down in the face of opposition (grin), and there were no further performative ironies.

At a certain point I stopped taking photographs because I got signals that the flash had become a bit distracting. I wasn’t the only one taking photographs, but I was right there in the front row. Here are a few more for your enjoyment:

The warm-up group was the Nick Savage band. Nick Savage was terrific on guitar and he had a good voice, although not as versatile or strong as Kevin’s. Nick also has a very sweet and endearing smile that I didn’t capture in the photographs. Although I tried, it was too fleeting.

I liked the faster songs better than the couple of slow ones that they played.

One musician in the band went from playing sax to flute to harmonica to some instrument I didn’t even recognize. He was very impressive. The whole band was fun. These are guys that care about music qua music - you can tell.

I’m also on board with the kind of “love missions” that 1) leave the business of salvation up to God, and 2) try to raise money for interesting films. They seemed to have a good time jammin’ even though the venue had some limitations. As a fund-raiser, the concert was probably a waste of everyone’s time, but I feel especially fortunate to have been there sending out waves of appreciation. These guys put their talent - and their hearts and souls - out there, and it really is a service of love. Thank you.

Kevin Max:

• kevinmax.com
• myspace.com/kevinmax
• kevinmaxholynight.com
• kevinmaxmusic.com
• myspace.com/kevinmaxmusic
• theimpostermovie.com
• myspace.com/kevin_max1767
• virb.com/kevinmax
• shoutlife.com/kevinmax
• purevolume.com/kevinmax
• theblood.org
• dctalk.com

Nick Savage Band:

• thenicksavageband.com

Not hearing “Independence Day” much this year, so let me say it loud:

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY!!!!!

It’s about a revolution against the tyrannies of old King George.

How could so much of our hard-won independence for our freedom and democracy been so senselessly squandered?

How could Independence Day be represented the way I’m seeing it this year? I want to see more patriots and less nationalists!

Give me liberty or give me death - it’s on the license plates still in New Hampshire, isn’t it? Say it is. I’m from Massachusetts, and the history of that great struggle is a matter of pride there. In Georgia…. well.

We’ll still go see the fireworks - just not at Stone Mountain.