Welcome!

I wish I could claim credit for the waffle deliciousness that happens at our home, but it’s actually Mark Bittman’s Overnight Waffles, from How to Cook Everything. The book, and the waffle iron, came with Matt when we moved in together (tho he actually used to make waffles from a mix). Here’s the deal: the night before, mix up: 2 cups flour (all purpose white, or up to 1/2 whole grain/cornmeal), 1/2 tsp instant yeast, 1 tblsp sugar, 1/2 tsp salt. Then add: 2 cups milk (i use 2%), a melted (and cooled if you think ahead, which i never do) stick of butter, and half a tsp of vanilla. Cover and let sit out, at room temperature, overnight.

The next morning, separate 2 eggs. stir the egg yolks into the waffle batter. Whip the whites into soft peaks, and fold into the batter.

ladle into your waffle iron. don’t overcook. enjoy. repeat.

Back in LA. It seems that NYC always puts on a show when I’m there, bringing the balmy in February and the shops on sale. Good thing I’m on a spending fast. Friends friends friends. Sometimes here in LA I forget that I am much loved. That people get me. That there are others in the world who contemplate plan b and c (aka soup or slave). Plus I learned to ski!

But then I landed here, and it was bright and sunny and so beautiful that I almost couldn’t stand it.

Still, if T finds me a rent-stabilized apt downtown, I’m gone.

The homes here in LA are lined with gallon jugs of water. Preparation for the disaster to come. Sometimes I feel that we are all on a ship together, hoping it won’t sink, trying to stay afloat. Sometimes it’s nice to have some ballast, some external balance.

When I can I ride my bike. But this being LA, I drive around alot. One thing I’ve come to enjoy is the rear view mirror. Aesthetically. There’s a visual beauty in the framed stillness surrounded by the large rushing world. Or sometimes there’s a small movement, but the scale is different–it’s the intimate juxtaposed with the impersonal. The known with the unknown, the possible with the impossible. But I’m sounding like what I like is metaphorical, when really what I am struck by (especially at night, driving on empty roads) is its framed beauty. A beauty I don’t stare at, because I am mindful of the road. Maybe if I could just look and look I would lose interest. Maybe, maybe not.

The new year is here. And I welcome it. 2005 was huge, but also very very difficult, and I am feeling much better about 2006. So far it’s raining, but not on my parade. I’m settled in Los Angeles (so far so good) and loving life on the left side. It’s drama free (even inside my head) which is the biggest relief. I miss my friends, but life is large and the world is as small as it needs to be. Visit–I’ve got an aerobed.

As of this afternoon, for the first time in my adult life, I have laundry in my home. All through college and grad school I relied on public machines, downstairs or around the corner, but never at home. I’ve hauled sacks of clothing in the snow and in the drippy heat of New York in August. I’ve watched front loaders spin, I’ve developped routines. Getting a mobile made it easier, but no matter how much I made the best of it:SuperNaturale Alt Guide: Laundry it was never by choice. Much of the way I’ve dressed for years was predicated upon my lack of laundry facilities. Instead of wearing favorites over and over, I never wore the same outfit twice. I couldn’t really. Sometimes I would go for long long stretches without wearing anything “favorite” because I knew as soon as I did I wouldn’t get to again before I went to the laundrette. Which I did as infrequently as possible. (see the sidebar in the article if you’re in the same situation) On a daily basis, it kept me from living in the present, from choosing what I wanted right then and there, always thinking about the future. Or, rather, it didn’t do anything, but instead illuminated a part of my character that I don’t like. That safe, careful person that thinks about the future in a way that mutes the present. I fight against that in me, but it’s a struggle.

So having the laundry downstairs is a great thing. When all the externals are removed, all I’m left with is myself. And then change is possible. Change is good.

There was an ant invasion this AM. A thick line between a crack in the floor and the garbage. I’ve become somewhat inured. I took out the garbage and hosed down the can. And waited. The thing about ants is that they quickly disappate. Their communications is rather amazing. I can see how people are fascinated with them. Sometimes you see one wandering around, looking totally purposeless. But should a purpose be found, the others will show up en masse. A river of ants will flow. Removing the purpose and the flow subsides.

My hair is smoky. But not from a bar, or even, indeed, cigarette smoke. Rather from a fire, a campfire, a campfire in the middle of a cornfield in downtown los angeles. Debra invited me to a lecture on permaculture, and we sat on a platform overlooking the cornfield, with the skyscrapers just beyond, while the super quiet metro hummed by. It was so striking and beautiful. When we stepped into the cornfield itself the temperature dropped. The air changed. We walked through it–a half mile–and arrived at the fire pit. Where wine and cheese were served, naturally. A small crowd, filled with the usual suspects, plus a dose of diversity. I couldn’t get enough of how beautiful it was. The thing that gets me about this city is what is within it. There are such big spaces to do big things. Runyun canyon. The cornfield.

“…when you need to make a decision, in you work or otherwise, and you don’t know what to do, just do one thing or the other, because the worst that can happen is that you will have made a terrible mistake.” from Bird by Bird, Lamott of course.

I have been at the computer practically all day. I had a big list of things to do yesterday, and they all got shifted to today. Emailing, editing. Reading. My eyes are blurry and my wrists hurt. I can’t believe I used to do this all day every day. I did have a bigger screen, but still.

I did go to the farmer’s market, so I do have loads and loads of yummy fruits and vegetables. I find that comforting somehow, even though all I really want to eat is kettle corn.

I didn’t realize that tomorrow is a holiday. Annoying a little, because I’m not sure if anything will be open. It’s amazing how busy it is to be not busy.

Tomorrow is a double depot day–home and office. Normally I try and avoid home depot, but there’s a tool I want to use, and apparently they take returns even for used tools, so if it turns out I don’t need it as much as I think I do I can take it back. I’m going to make another set of plywood boxes. And I need a printer/faxer.

I emailed my old feng shui teacher today, to enquire about starting up again. I dropped out so that I could afford to be in therapy–it was almost exactly the same amount each month. I’m hoping that I can do both again. My finances are a bit weird at the moment, but I don’t want to live in poverty, so I’m trying to spend where it makes sense. And I think I can at least do enough consultations out here to pay for the teachings.

I’m feeling open these days. A little excited, a little hopeful. It’s a strange feeling. A feeling that the universe may be benevolent after all.

The plane isn’t crashing.

I’ve been back in LA for a week. I still feel like I’m camping out. A lovely friend of Tsia’s came and built me a bed. So at least I’m not on a mattress on the floor. I don’t feel settled enough to start looking for real furniture, but I’m loathe to go the Ikea route. If only I had a finishing nail gun…

So I continue to read Anne Lamott (I call her Annie in my head). Today I found this:

“I heard Marianne Williamson say once that when you ask God into your life, you think he or she is going to come into your psychic house, look around, and see that you just need a new floor or better furniture and that everything needs just a little cleaning–and so you go along for the first six months thinking how nice life is now that God is there. Then you look out the window one day and see that there’s a wrecking ball outside. It turns out that God actually thinks your whole foundation is shot and you’re going to have to start over from scratch.”

I can hear the creak of the wrecking ball chain.

While in NYC I ran into a woman I had met once before. We chatted about LA and she said I should call her friend MW. I did and we arranged to meet for a snack with a few other people before they went off to a film. Seated across from me was a woman named Jessica. She mentioned that she was playing with her band Monday night. I asked what the name of the band was, and she said “the Chapin Sisters.” Boing went my head. The Chapin Sisters is actually the only LA band that I could have named, should I have been asked, because another member of the band, Lilly, is one of the best friends of my stepsister, and Felicia had told me to look them up just days earlier. Big Big City. Small Small World.

I can’t sleep. I’m surrounded by my father’s home, which screams money. And I can’t help connecting this luxury, these acres of marble, leather and persian carpets to my own state of homelessness. My down payment is in the details. He told me once that if I wanted a nice place to live in New York that I should have been a banker. This trip is painful. I love New York. I love walking. Even the stretch of Broadway between Chambers and Canal is interesting. But if I have to start my life again, I’d rather it be somewhere where I can be a newcomer, somewhere where I haven’t demonstrated what a failure I am. I want New York, but New York doesn’t want me. And I can’t take the rejection. In LA it somehow feels less shameful to rent a shabby room. And I can hold out hope for a one-bedroom, something that was entirely beyond me in New York. The work I will have to do there is different. I’m realizing that I might well not have a child, and that I may be alone. I have to grieve my losses and find a way to be in the world differently. I’m not sure I can do it. I’m not sure if that kind of life is worth living, at least for me. But I’m not capable of partnership. The first thing that has to go is my self pity. And the first thing I have to find is God.

My favorite 5-year old friend visited today. It’s our first solo sleepover, and since he’s fast asleep, I think it was successful. There’s always the morning, but I think the real test was going to sleep in a strange place without his mother. I’m not sure he’s ever had a sleepover with a non-family member. I drove up to the mountains to pick him up, at the very glamorous location of the back of a Kmart, and we drove down to LA. We stopped on the way at a chain Mexican restaurant recommended by IGR’s lama’s wife. Turns out that Sharkey’s Mexican Grill is a solid source for organic rice and beans, etc. Who knew? Then we went to the Natural History Museum. The living bugs were a big hit. He thought some of the fossils were the best things ever. And we both loved looking at the minerals and crystals and seeing how they were turned into gems. As a side note, I’ve never really craved that kind of rock before, but… Then Thai for dinner, a turn on the swing, bath (largely to make sure there weren’t any lingering creepy crawlies from the trek to the swing), one story from the book, a “chapter” of the ongoing saga of the little boy and his dog (a runaway survivalist narrative that I started up this summer and which seems to have legs). And he’s out, and I’m up. But not for long.

The house hunt is going poorly, or perhaps ok, I’m really not sure. I can’t really fathom that I’m living here. I just came out for the summer. I thought if I stayed in New York I would do something dangerous, but now it seems as though going back would be even crazier. And I have a certain amount of calm and clarity here. Not really along the lines of big changes, but more along the lines of the breathing room to feel that making the big changes is possible. The program is good here. I haven’t made any friends, but I have a sense that I can find faith and purpose. I never felt that in NYC. It was all head and no heart. Maybe that was just where I was, but it kind of doesn’t matter. I’ve done more work here in the past 2 months then in the last few years.

But the house hunting is really that. I think I want to live in a house. That’s one of the main reasons I wanted to be here this summer. I wanted to live in a house. And I am. I don’t know if owning one would be any easier here, but I can find one to live in. Sharing of course, but somehow that doesn’t bother me that much. I was offered a two-bedroom apartment for under $1000, but aside from some problems, and a year long lease, it made me realize that I want something specific if I’m going to be here. I want what I can’t have in New York.

That said, I don’t know how long I can be here.

I’m not ready to say I’m living here, so I’m looking for another temporary place. I just came for the summer, it feels like I’m just staying here, rather than living here. Maybe when I get more of a life (and it wouldn’t take much to beat the one I had in NYC), I’ll feel like I’m living here. But meanwhile I’m sending out emails and making calls and seeing places and nothing is really right. I think something could be right, I don’t think I’ve got impossible standards, but I haven’t seen it yet. I guess at some point I might have to take something that isn’t really it, just so I have a place to live, but I don’t think I’ve gotten to that place yet.

I spent the day out at the horse show. EW was riding, her brother, his friend and I were along for the ride. As far as that kind of thing went, it was pretty low key. But there were fancy cars and fancy horses. When I think about riding these days, I want to be on the trail. I want to be going places you can only go on a horse, like into the past. This is a whole different thing. And as ridiculously expensive as it is, what’s nice is that everyone involved seems really into it. They are really into the horses, and into riding. I thought it would be a day of reading and doing the x-word, but I actually found myself paying attention. And feeling ok. Then we all went to an Indian restaurant. One of those total LA places–the front was on a deserted part of a crummy road, the facade was broken fencing and a couple of old notices, but inside was totally warm and friendly and yummy. Sometimes I like the stark contrast. But most of the time I think would it kill people to make the public part as lovely as the private?

The hill across from the porch was filled with mourning doves this afternoon. At first there was just one pair, then more and more. So sweet and so beautiful. Cooing. Their call sounds so sad to us–hence the mourning I suppose–but I imagine it means something else entirely to them. Maybe I’m just projecting contentment onto them because of their paired existence. How bad could it be?

The sister of a very dear person in my life is going through some major health issues. It’s very difficult and sad, and often the worst part seems to be the uncertainty. What is giving me faith at the moment are the James Herriot books. You know, the vet. Most of the books take place in an age before antibiotics and steriods, and most of the time the most sophisticated thing he did was boil the knife before surgery. And yet the animals recovered. They recovered from broken bones, infections, cancer, and various mysterious disorders. Sometimes Herriot knew why and sometimes he had no idea.

On another note, I joined the library today. They didn’t care that I only had a PO box as an address and a NY driver’s license. They were happy to hand me a card. I love libraries. And this one was super nice–very modern, but with lots of local and personal touches.

I have a terrible sadness tonight. The person I love most is hurting, and there’s nothing I can do to take his pain away. I have never been able to provide the support and comfort he deserves. I guess the best service I can do is to disappear.

I’m in exile here in LA. I think I can make it work. There’s a softness here. I don’t expect as much. It’s not where I would have chosen to be, but it is perhaps where I belong. On the edge of America. The last stop.

But I think the future, if I have a future, might be Canada. I can’t see myself growing old alone in the states. The Golden Girls never really talked about money, but I have a feeling they weren’t living on social security. My future is totally insecure. I need some security. Faith is all well and good, but so is a national health plan.

My NY Cobra doesn’t really work out here–Oxford isn’t really national. So I’m looking into other options.

I’m a newcomer. Scared shitless. I’m finally asking for help. I’ve never felt I deserved it before. I thought if I could get by without it then others needed it more. As though love and support were only available in finite quantities.

There’s a wedding in September. I’ve been to so many weddings alone. Horrible. Last year I didn’t go to a wedding because I couldn’t bear to go alone. I think I lost a friend because I couldn’t show up, but I thought I might cry the wrong kind of tears and not be able to stop. But I don’t think I can go to England. I want to see Amber and Gordon and Maisie and Beatie, but I don’t think I can be around anyone else’s kids right now. Cuts too deep. I always thought I would be a good mother, a good partner. I’ve been so wrong.

I’m excited about having proper b-cards. I wish I had some design chops. I’d love to go to design school, or at least take some classes. I feel so very chop-less.

I’m enjoying being neat and organized. I’ve been putting things away. I finally went through most of the papers that I brought out here and that had arrived since. Most everything is squared away. Now I just have to decide if I’m staying. Love is the only reason not to stay. Love is the only reason to do most anything.

The best part of this birthday (and perhaps, in retrospect, most birthdays of mine) has been the singing of happy birthday coming down the telephone wire. Since my lovelies are all so far away, I got to hear the tune again and again. Being sung to is the best–thank you songsters!

Also really good was getting scrubbed. And saunaing.

Getting lost, really really lost, was not a good thing–thank you Ilona and Google maps for helping guide this girl home.

Home is where I am. At least for the next four weeks. Then who knows? I have my romantic dreams, but life is often less romantic than my dreams.

I didn’t get to a meeting, but otherwise the uneventful day went as planned. I volunteered in the AM, then went low-brow spaing, then drove around. That’s what I’m going to call getting lost from now on–Driving Around.

The palm trees in the forefront of the cityskyskape was rather beautiful.

I screwed up my unemployment claim and have to start all over. Which means that I miss out on about $2000. I don’t need it today, but it might well come in handy someday. And it would have made buying a new laptop a little less ouchy. This one is still limping on, however, so nothing urgent. I get a little anxious though.

I might be doing north for a few days. Ilona’s got some sort of kidney problem and needs some help.

Then comes my birthday. Not at all sure what to do. Vegas?

I don’t mind doing laundry, in fact, I kind of enjoy it. What I hate is dragging stuff to the laundrette. It is such a pleasure to walk out to the back of the garden and throw stuff in. It’s the small things that make all the difference.

I’ve unpacked. So little and yet too much. What doesn’t get worn this summer goes.

I can hear the horn of the trains as they pass by. The street is very quiet, and we’re across from the resevoir (sp?!), which is also very calm. There is wildlife tho–lots and lots of it. Skunk, coyote, badger, etc. It’s a very different kind of urban. Everything is very transparent–you can smell the collision between the wild flowers and burning oil. You can see pollution. The landmarks of the city are natural–Sunset Blvd leads to the sunset (and away from it), to find north just look for the hills, and conceptual–one can stand on the corner of Hollywood and Vine–tho what you find there is not really what you might expect. In the car I listen to the radio–local NPR and community stuff mostly. And I look around. I don’t know yet for sure that I can’t afford a real house here, and so I am not crushed by my dreams.

I spent a good part of today being my very own geek. Set up the airport and voip, so that now I can at least call out from home, and check for messages (awkwardly), so that I am not completely cut off. Also I have my own computer back, so I can finally pay bills and the like. Phew.

Also went to a good AM meeting. I’ve committed myself to one a day, getting a sponsor, actually working the program. Trying to reap some benefits of all this hard work. Seems like I’ve been working and working and just going absolutely nowhere.

Also now I have to deal with the worky work situation. How am I going to get work? Now that I’m all connected, I’m going to try Craigslist, we’ll see how it goes.

I’m lonely, but the sun, it does shine.

The beautiful BC campsite had internet. Silverlake, however, does not have reliable TMobile service. So until I’ve sorted out a new cellphone or some sort of other voip delio, I’m rather incommunado, tho this time not so much by choice.

I drove down from Napa yesterday, and hit zero traffic. All around was yellow, except for patches of farmland. It was so easy to see the shape of the land, the way the water ran. Hot.

Now here in LA. Terrifying.

I had a party last night. It was the first real party I’ve had for myself in years. Nancy Buivid was super generous with her space and Ellen cooked up a storm. It was great to look around and see a bunch of people that I really liked, people that I’m glad exist. Most of whom I see rarely, and some of them new friends (my oldest friend in New York failed to show up, which made me really sad), all of them wonderful.

I’m rather melancholy starting out on this journey. I can’t stay in New York, but I’m having a hard time imagining settling in LA. It’s the place that seems to make sense–feasible re: work, therapy and recovery, and there are lots of friends of friends and etc., but I’m leaving some real love behind.

But I need time and space and breathing room. I need to feel mobility and possibility. New York is my hometown, but it has no love for me. I’m off tomorrow AM.

Anyway, this is the playlist I put together for the CD party favor–Enjoy!

California Dreaming–Mamas and the Papas
I’d Rather Go With Friends than Go Alone–Kimya Dawson
Cloud–Fischerspooner
Let Me Get What I Want–Morrissey
California Stars–Billy Bragg and Wilco
Fire–Kimya Dawson
A Kick in the Teeth–Fischerspooner
LA–Elliot Smith
Why Don’t You Find Out for Yourself–Morrissey
Wandering Daughter–Kimya Dawson
I’m Not Sorry–Morrissey
Kids in America–Kim Wilde
Los Angeles I’m Yours–Decemberists
All We Are–Fischerspooner
California–Joni Mitchell
(Swimming Against the Tide of) Reason–Len Bright Combo
Los Angeles–X
True Faith ‘94–New Order

The thing is that I always feel that I am doing the wrong thing. Nearly always anyway. Any big decision is agonizing–I want the decision making to be taken away from me really. It is (part of) the nature of my disfunction. At least I have made a decision. For years I have been on an edge. That edge of decision that Derrida talked about at his Cambridge lecture all those years ago. Making a decision is a moment of madness he said. It is stepping off into the abyss. Since the decision causes the future, it is impossible to really know what the meaning of the decision will be. You have to look at the abyss, and then step off the edge. I hope I will have visitors.

I hate doing this alone. I hate packing alone, putting stuff into storage alone, looking for a place to live alone, planning for a future alone. Today I’m really feeling it, a future stretching out before me in which the phone doesn’t ring, in which I eat alone, in which I take care of business alone, in which no matter where I call home I am always a stranger. I think one of the reasons I’m leaving New York is that I can’t bear to feel this way in my home town. I shouldn’t live in a small box in my city. I stayed here because I didn’t want to lose the connections I had, but it turns out, after 10 years, that I’m not that connected. There’s alot of love, but no connection. No ties that bind. So I’m moving on, alone, to face being alone in a strange town, in a place where I don’t have expectations of community or care.