The Sheila Variations

Party snapshots

My party was fun. It meant so much to me to see everyone there - to look around the room and see all the family faces ... in my space!! Siobhan was there, Kerry and Adam, Liam and Lydia, Marianne.

Kerry immediately began to re-organize my closet.

"So." She said, staring at the controlled chaos. Long long pause. "What's happening with that pile of shoes there?"

"Uhm ... nothing's happening with it ... it's, uhm, it's a pile of shoes ..."

hahahahahahaha She should hire herself out. I am telling you. She's a genius of organization. So now I need to go get a tall hamper, some kind of shoe holder - either to hang from the clothing rack or a stand-alone piece - and a couple of other items. All of which can be obtained at an organization store nearest me.

Other party moments:

-- We IMDB'd no less than 15 people.

-- Red Sox talk.

-- We discussed junk drawers. Liam shouted, "It's a man's prerogative to have a junk drawer!!"

-- Lydia told us about her latest job, which sounds very exciting. Funny story. It also involves IMDB. I cannot imagine a universe without IMDB.

-- Red Sox talk.

-- I have no "N" on my laptop keyboard because the whole thing is falling apart. Kerry must have noticed this early on in the night, but said nothing about it. 2 hours later, the subject of laptops came up. I said, "Mine tends to overheat ..." Kerry interjected, calmly and kindly, "You also have no N."

-- Kerry told a tale of her afternoon with a certain ex Red Sox player and his wife. It involved playing Catchphrase in the breakfast nook. She played Catchphrase in the breakfast nook with ... a famous famous ex- Red Sox player. Marianne was SHOUTING across the room. "I HATE you. What - you can't text me? What am I, chopped liver? I can't BELIEVE I haven't heard this story." Kerry would continue on with her story ... and Marianne kept interjecting: "I HATE YOU. I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DIDN'T TEXT ME DURING THIS WHOLE THING." Kerry kept telling the story. Marianne shouted, "YOU PLAYED CATCHPHRASE IN THE BREAKFAST NOOK. I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS." hahahahahahaha

-- I love my family because we all revere Freddie Mercury so much that it's almost a religious experience. Nobody tries to be logical, nobody tries to say, "Yes, but ..." Nobody ever says the worst phrase in the history of the English language: "Well, yes and no ..." (Ew. When anyone greets my wild enthusiasm about something with a tepid "well, yes and no" - I immediately want to yank the giant STICK out of that person's ASS.) So no, there is no "well yes and no" with us, in terms of Freddie. We LOVE the guy. We LOVE the guy. We all just had a HUGE Freddie Mercury and Queen love-fest last night. Something about Queen just gives me goosebumps - nobody like them. Nobody like them. I played them "Barcelona" - just because it's not very well-known - even though when Liam and Lydia and I went to see the Losers Lounge tribute, they did THAT SONG. He wrote it for the Barcelona Olympics - and it's this big sweeping opera-esque song ... a duet with an opera singer. So at the Losers Lounge tribute, they got an opera singer to come down to Bowery Ballroom ... oh, it was awesome! Anyway - we listened to "Barcelona" last night - just ... randomly RAVING about what a feckin' GENIUS the guy was. How BIG he was. How full of LOVE he was. You can tell. There's not one bit of him that holds back - or hides who he is. John Wayne always said, about acting, "If you're going to make a gesture, just make it." Good or bad - just MAKE it. The only way you can tell if it's the wrong gesture is if you do it 100%. MAKE the gesture. Don't sketch it in, don't do it halfway, don't hold back. Make it. Be willing to fail. Be willing to look foolish. Freddie Mercury didn't know how to NOT "make the gesture". You can hear it in his lyrics, and also in his voice - how he sings, how fully he is present. It also helps that he just has to have had one of the most amazing voices in rock and roll history. Just in terms of natural talent. Truly an extraordinary performer. Nobody like him. The O'Malleys love Queen.

Obviously.

-- Red Sox talk

-- The talk turned to a certain cult and a certain baby having just been born into said cult and I started to talk ... and then stopped. "Okay. Look out. I am now going to completely DOMINATE this conversation." And I did.

-- Hilarious, though. I made some WILD claim about the couch-jumper. Something that I believe, in my heart, is true. Liam said, "How do you know that?" He expected me to back it up with documentation at LEAST. In a fervent tone, I replied, "I've just got a feelin' in my gut about it." hahahahaha Sheila. That's not valid.

But oh, it is fun!

-- Red Sox talk.

-- I just loved looking around and seeing them all there.

-- As they left, I heard Liam (for some reason) say something about translating "Oh Canada" into Spanish. hahahahahaha I love my family.

Jean and Rachel and Regina and Ian and Emma and Tom and Betsy were all missed!! I'll have to plan another one.

Oh, and we didn't run out of food. I had plenty. Phew.

Today in history: April 30, 1789

On April 30, 1789, George Washington was sworn in as the first President of the United States.

George Washington wrote the following on the eve of his inauguration:

It is said that every man has his portion of ambition. I may have mine, I suppose, as well as the rest, but if I know my own heart, my ambition would not lead me into public life; my only ambition is to do my duty in this world as well as I am capable of performing it, and to merit the good opinion of all good men.

We are so lucky, so very lucky, to have had this man in our "canon". There's as always, so much to say. One of the thing that strikes me about him is that he never wanted to seem like he was jostling for power or position. George Washington had many wonderful qualities and abilities - but it was this distaste for public life that I believe made him truly great. He went out of his way to let everyone know how unworthy he felt, how he hoped their trust in him was warranted, that he was eager to finally go home and live the life of a private man... But on this day in history, April 30, there was to be no private man anymore. His people had chosen him, and while Mount Vernon continued to call to him, he knew he must accept.

David McCullough describes, in his book on John Adams, inauguration day:

On the day of his inauguration, Thursday, April 30 1789, Washington rode to Federal Hall in a canary-yellow carriage pulled by six white horses and followed by a long column of New York militia in full dress. The air was sharp, the sun shone brightly, and with all work stopped in the city, the crowds along his route were the largest ever seen. It was as if all New York had turned out and more besides. "Many persons in the crowd," reported the Gazette of the United States "were heard to say they should now die contented � nothing being wanted to complete their happiness � but the sight of the savior of his country."

In the Senate Chamber were gathered the members of both houses of Congress, the Vice President, and sundry officials and diplomatic agents, all of whom rose when Washington made his entrance, looking solemn and stately. His hair powdered, he wore a dress sword, white silk stockings, shoes with silver buckles, and a suit of the same brown Hartford broadcloth that Adams, too, was wearing for the occasion. They might have been dressed as twins, except that Washington's metal buttons had eagles on them.

It was Adams who formally welcomed the General and escorted him to the dais. For an awkward moment Adams appeared to be in some difficulty, as though he had forgotten what he was supposed to say. then, addressing Washington, he declared that the Senate and House of Representatives were ready to attend him for the oath of office as required by the Constitution. Washington said he was ready. Adams bowed and led the way to the outer balcony, in full view of the throng in the streets. People were cheering and waving from below, and from windows and rooftops as far as the eye could see. Washington bowed once, then a second time.

Fourteen years earlier, it had been Adams who called on the Continental Congress to make the tall Virginian commander-in-chief of the army. Now he stood at Washington's side as Washington, his right hand on the Bible, repeated the oath of office as read by Chancellor Robert R. Livingston of New York, who had also been a member of the Continental Congress.

In a low voice Washington solemnly swore to execute the office of the President of the United States and, to the best of his ability, to "preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States." Then, as not specified in the Constitution, he added, "So help me God", and kissed the Bible, thereby establishing his own first presidential tradition.

"It is done," Livingston said, and, turning to the crowd, cried out, "Long live George Washington, President of the United States."

The following is George Washington's first inaugural address. What I sense in these words is what I sense in so many of the original documents of that time, written by the main players: they were embarking on a grand and hopeful experiment. They were entering uncharted waters. And they all seem determined (each in their different ways, with their different views) to make the most of the opportunity, to seize the day. No decision was unimportant, everything had meaning ... and what I also sense in this inaugural address is that Washington knew that he wasn't only talking to the people present, but he was also talking to us. The future generations. They all knew that they were being watched, carefully, by those who would come after.

The only thing required of a President on his inauguration day, in those early early days, was that he take the oath of Office. Washington, in composing an address, to the people who put their faith in him, set the precedent. Every president since then has followed his example.

George Washington's first inaugural address:

Fellow-Citizens of the Senate and of the House of Representatives:

Among the vicissitudes incident to life no event could have filled me with greater anxieties than that of which the notification was transmitted by your order, and received on the 14th day of the present month. On the one hand, I was summoned by my Country, whose voice I can never hear but with veneration and love, from a retreat which I had chosen with the fondest predilection, and, in my flattering hopes, with an immutable decision, as the asylum of my declining years--a retreat which was rendered every day more necessary as well as more dear to me by the addition of habit to inclination, and of frequent interruptions in my health to the gradual waste committed on it by time. On the other hand, the magnitude and difficulty of the trust to which the voice of my country called me, being sufficient to awaken in the wisest and most experienced of her citizens a distrustful scrutiny into his qualifications, could not but overwhelm with despondence one who (inheriting inferior endowments from nature and unpracticed in the duties of civil administration) ought to be peculiarly conscious of his own deficiencies. In this conflict of emotions all I dare aver is that it has been my faithful study to collect my duty from a just appreciation of every circumstance by which it might be affected. All I dare hope is that if, in executing this task, I have been too much swayed by a grateful remembrance of former instances, or by an affectionate sensibility to this transcendent proof of the confidence of my fellow-citizens, and have thence too little consulted my incapacity as well as disinclination for the weighty and untried cares before me, my error will be palliated by the motives which mislead me, and its consequences be judged by my country with some share of the partiality in which they originated.

Such being the impressions under which I have, in obedience to the public summons, repaired to the present station, it would be peculiarly improper to omit in this first official act my fervent supplications to that Almighty Being who rules over the universe, who presides in the councils of nations, and whose providential aids can supply every human defect, that His benediction may consecrate to the liberties and happiness of the people of the United States a Government instituted by themselves for these essential purposes, and may enable every instrument employed in its administration to execute with success the functions allotted to his charge. In tendering this homage to the Great Author of every public and private good, I assure myself that it expresses your sentiments not less than my own, nor those of my fellow- citizens at large less than either. No people can be bound to acknowledge and adore the Invisible Hand which conducts the affairs of men more than those of the United States. Every step by which they have advanced to the character of an independent nation seems to have been distinguished by some token of providential agency; and in the important revolution just accomplished in the system of their united government the tranquil deliberations and voluntary consent of so many distinct communities from which the event has resulted can not be compared with the means by which most governments have been established without some return of pious gratitude, along with an humble anticipation of the future blessings which the past seem to presage. These reflections, arising out of the present crisis, have forced themselves too strongly on my mind to be suppressed. You will join with me, I trust, in thinking that there are none under the influence of which the proceedings of a new and free government can more auspiciously commence.

By the article establishing the executive department it is made the duty of the President "to recommend to your consideration such measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient." The circumstances under which I now meet you will acquit me from entering into that subject further than to refer to the great constitutional charter under which you are assembled, and which, in defining your powers, designates the objects to which your attention is to be given. It will be more consistent with those circumstances, and far more congenial with the feelings which actuate me, to substitute, in place of a recommendation of particular measures, the tribute that is due to the talents, the rectitude, and the patriotism which adorn the characters selected to devise and adopt them. In these honorable qualifications I behold the surest pledges that as on one side no local prejudices or attachments, no separate views nor party animosities, will misdirect the comprehensive and equal eye which ought to watch over this great assemblage of communities and interests, so, on another, that the foundation of our national policy will be laid in the pure and immutable principles of private morality, and the preeminence of free government be exemplified by all the attributes which can win the affections of its citizens and command the respect of the world. I dwell on this prospect with every satisfaction which an ardent love for my country can inspire, since there is no truth more thoroughly established than that there exists in the economy and course of nature an indissoluble union between virtue and happiness; between duty and advantage; between the genuine maxims of an honest and magnanimous policy and the solid rewards of public prosperity and felicity; since we ought to be no less persuaded that the propitious smiles of Heaven can never be expected on a nation that disregards the eternal rules of order and right which Heaven itself has ordained; and since the preservation of the sacred fire of liberty and the destiny of the republican model of government are justly considered, perhaps, as deeply, as finally, staked on the experiment entrusted to the hands of the American people.

Besides the ordinary objects submitted to your care, it will remain with your judgment to decide how far an exercise of the occasional power delegated by the fifth article of the Constitution is rendered expedient at the present juncture by the nature of objections which have been urged against the system, or by the degree of inquietude which has given birth to them. Instead of undertaking particular recommendations on this subject, in which I could be guided by no lights derived from official opportunities, I shall again give way to my entire confidence in your discernment and pursuit of the public good; for I assure myself that whilst you carefully avoid every alteration which might endanger the benefits of an united and effective government, or which ought to await the future lessons of experience, a reverence for the characteristic rights of freemen and a regard for the public harmony will sufficiently influence your deliberations on the question how far the former can be impregnably fortified or the latter be safely and advantageously promoted.

To the foregoing observations I have one to add, which will be most properly addressed to the House of Representatives. It concerns myself, and will therefore be as brief as possible. When I was first honored with a call into the service of my country, then on the eve of an arduous struggle for its liberties, the light in which I contemplated my duty required that I should renounce every pecuniary compensation. From this resolution I have in no instance departed; and being still under the impressions which produced it, I must decline as inapplicable to myself any share in the personal emoluments which may be indispensably included in a permanent provision for the executive department, and must accordingly pray that the pecuniary estimates for the station in which I am placed may during my continuance in it be limited to such actual expenditures as the public good may be thought to require.

Having thus imparted to you my sentiments as they have been awakened by the occasion which brings us together, I shall take my present leave; but not without resorting once more to the benign Parent of the Human Race in humble supplication that, since He has been pleased to favor the American people with opportunities for deliberating in perfect tranquillity, and dispositions for deciding with unparalleled unanimity on a form of government for the security of their union and the advancement of their happiness, so His divine blessing may be equally conspicuous in the enlarged views, the temperate consultations, and the wise measures on which the success of this Government must depend.

William Maclay, a senator from Pennsylvania, kept a daily journal - highly detailed, and rather cynical, about the Senate sessions of the first Congress. He describes the first inauguration in vivid detail:

30th April, Thursday.--This is a great, important day. Goddess of etiquette, assist me while I describe it. The Senate stood adjourned to half after eleven o'clock. About ten dressed in my best clothes; went for Mr. Morris' lodgings, but met his son, who told me that his father would not be in town until Saturday. Turned into the Hall. The crowd already great. The Senate met. The Vice-President rose in the most solemn manner. This son of Adam seemed impressed with deeper gravity, yet what shall I think of him? He often, in the midst of his most important airs--I believe when tie is at loss for expressions (and this he often is, wrapped up, I suppose, in the contemplation of his own importance)-- suffers an unmeaning kind of vacant laugh to escape him. This was the case to-day, and really to me bore the air of ridiculing the farce he was acting. "Gentlemen, I wish for the direction of the Senate. The President will, I suppose, addressthe Congress. How shall I behave? How shall we receive it? Shall it be standing or sitting?"

Here followed a considerable deal of talk from him which I could make nothing of. Mr. Lee began with the House of Commons (as is usual with him), then the House of Lords, then the King, and then back again. The result of his information was, that the Lords sat and the Commons stood on the delivery of the King's speech. Mr. Izard got up and told how often he had been in the Houses of Parliament. He said a great deal of what he had seen there. [He] made, however, this sagacious discovery, that the Commons stood because they had no. seats to sit on, being arrived at the bar of the House of Lords. It was discovered after some time that the King sat, too, and had his robes and crown on.

Mr. Adams got up again and said he had been very often indeed at the Parliament on those occasions, but there always was such a crowd, and ladies along, that for his part he could not say how it was. Mr. Carrol got up to declare that he thought it of no consequence how it was in Great Britain; they were no rule to us, etc. But all at once the Secretary, who had been out, whispered to the Chair that the Clerk from the Representatives was at the door with a communication. Gentlemen of the Senate, how shall he be received? A silly kind of resolution of the committee on that business had been laid on the table some days ago. The amount of it was that each House should communicate to the other what and how they chose; it concluded, however, something in this way: That everything should be done with all the propriety that was proper. The question was, Shall this be adopted, that we may know how to receive the Clerk? It was objected [that] this will throw no light on the subject; it will leave you where you are. Mr. Lee brought the House of Commons before us again. He reprobated the rule; declared that the Clerk should not come within the bar of file House; that the proper mode was for the Sergeant-at-Arms, with the mace on his shoulder, to meet the Clerk at the door and receive his communication; we are not, however, provided for this ceremonious way of doing business, having neither mace nor sergeant nor Masters in Chancery, who carry down bills from the English Lords.

Mr. Izard got up and labored unintelligibly to show the great distinction between a communication and a delivery of a thing, but he was not minded. Mr. Elsworth showed plainly enough that if the Clerk was not permitted to deliver the communication, the Speaker might as well send it inclosed. Repeated accounts came [that] the Speaker and Representatives were at the door. Confusion ensued; the members left their seats. Mr. Read rose and called the attention of the Senate to the neglect that had been shown Mr. Thompson, late Secretary. Mr. Lee rose to answer him, but I could not hear one word he said. The Speaker was introduced, followed by the Representatives. Here we sat an hour and ten minutes before the President arrived--this delay was owing to Lee, Izard, and Dalton, who had stayed with us while the Speaker came in, instead of going to attend the President. The President advanced between the Senate and Representatives, bowing to each. He was placed in the chair by the Vice-President; the Senate with their president on the right, the Speaker and the Representatives on his left. The Vice-President rose and addressed a short sentence to him. The import of it was that he should now take the oath of office as President. He seemed to have forgot half what he was to say, for he made a dead pause and stood for some time, to appearance, in a vacant mood. He finished with a formal bow, and the President was conducted out of the middle window into the gallery, and the oath was administered by the Chancellor. Notice that the business done was communicated to the crowd by proclamation, etc., who gave three cheers, and repeated it on the President's bowing to them.

As the company returned into the Senate chamber, the President took the chair and the Senators and Representatives their seats. He rose, and all arose also and addressed them. This great man was agitated and embarrassed more than ever he was by the leveled cannon or pointed musket. He trembled, and several times could scarce make out to read, though it must be supposed he had often read it before. He put part of the fingers of his left hand into the side of what I think the tailors call the fall of the breeches, changing the paper into his left hand. After some time he then did the same with some of the fingers of his right hand. When he came to the words all the world, he made a flourish with his right hand, which left rather an ungainly impression. I sincerely, for my part, wished all set ceremony in the hands of the dancing-masters, and that this first of men had read off his address in the plainest manner, without ever taking his eyes from the paper, for I felt hurt that he was not first in everything. He was dressed in deep brown, with metal buttons, with an eagle on them, white stockings, a bag, and sword.

From the hall there was a grand procession to Saint Paul's Church, where prayers were said by the Bishop. The procession was well conducted and without accident, as far as I have heard. The militia were all under arms, lined the street near the church, made a good figure, and behaved well.

The Senate returned to their chamber after service, formed, and took up the address. Our Vice-President called it his most gracious speech. I can not approve of this. A committee was appointed on it--Johnson, Carrol, Patterson. Adjourned. In the evening there were grand fireworks. The Spanish Ambassador's house was adorned with transparent paintings; the French Minister's house was illuminated, and had some transparent pieces; the Hall was grandly illuminated, and after all this the people went to bed.

I have such a deep fondness for John Adams, with all his airs and self-importance and vanity. I just love the guy, what can I say. He's so feckin' human.

The description of Washington's awkwardness makes me want to cry:

He rose, and all arose also and addressed them. This great man was agitated and embarrassed more than ever he was by the leveled cannon or pointed musket. He trembled, and several times could scarce make out to read, though it must be supposed he had often read it before. He put part of the fingers of his left hand into the side of what I think the tailors call the fall of the breeches, changing the paper into his left hand. After some time he then did the same with some of the fingers of his right hand. When he came to the words all the world, he made a flourish with his right hand, which left rather an ungainly impression. I sincerely, for my part, wished all set ceremony in the hands of the dancing-masters, and that this first of men had read off his address in the plainest manner, without ever taking his eyes from the paper, for I felt hurt that he was not first in everything. He was dressed in deep brown, with metal buttons, with an eagle on them, white stockings, a bag, and sword.

God. Good God. But what really moves me is that after the address, they all walked in procession, led by George Washington, to St. Paul's Church, for a service.

St. Paul's Church. (Read that article ... it's a well-known story, of course, but it always bears repeating.) St. Paul's has always had meaning for us here in New York, because of its long history, but now ... it has more meaning than ever. I can't even think about St. Paul's without feeling tears come to my eyes. So to think ... that that special church, that church that became symbolic (not just to us here, but to people all over the country) of hope, or survival, of healing ... would be the place where George Washington prayed for guidance after being sworn in as the first President... I mean, honestly. I don't even know what else to say about it.

April 30, 1789 ... the day this new nation embarked on its unknown and exciting course, with George Washington at the helm.

Here is an image of the first page of this inaugural address, in Washington's own hand.

Phone calls

I'm having a party tonight for my cousins and any O'Malley in a 500 mile radius. My sisters are coming. Cousins and cousins spouses. Sadly, uncle won't be able to make it. I'm cooking. I went shopping. I am also ordering food in. It's a sun-blasted day. I'm sorta blue. Not sure why. This happened the last time I took Diary Friday into the realm of cherished memories - as opposed to just goofy high school stuff. Sometimes it's good to let stuff stay in the past. Also - because I know what comes next ... I read my ecstatic words and feel sort of eerie and sad about it. Existentially sad. Silly, but that's what's happened. I'm listening to Queen right now. "Too much love will kill you". That pretty much sums it up.

And the pain will make you crazy
You're the victim of your crime
Too much love will kill you every time

"The pain will make you crazy". Yes. It did. That ecstatic frenzied girl was headed for a crash that wiped everything out for a good long while. So that's what I sense in those diary friday words ... I sense the wave approaching. It's disturbing - even though, duh, I was there, and I lived it, and it's over now.

Also I threw a bunch of stuff out today ... I got rid of a bunch of cassette tapes (!!! Yes! I still have tapes!) - I have all these mix tapes given to me by people throughout my life. My sisters, my brother, etc ... but also ... digging thru them I saw handwriting I didn't recognize ... Some of them are mix tapes given to me by guys I don't even remember - a guy I went on one or two dates with - a guy I dated for 2 weeks - whatever ... but in that space of time they were able to make me a mix tape. Ghosts. Throw 'em out.

And then I also found a tape that I (believe it or not) totally forgot I had. It has my scribbling on the "liner notes" - and it says: Phone calls. The second i saw those words I remembered what this tape was. I kept this tape going during a really lonely time in my life - not even lonely - I was haunted. And I would keep a recording of answering-machine messages that I wanted to save. So ... I could listen to them later? So ... I could have evidence? I don't know. But I made the mistake of listening to that tape this morning. I still can't throw it out ... Recordings of long-ago messages left for me from ex-boyfriends ... you know. The triumvirate. What a horrible idea. To keep a record of those calls AND to listen to it years later. There's a marriage proposal there. A serious one. From a guy I've mentioned on this blog before, but I won't name him here - just respecting his privacy. The marriage proposal came from out of nowhere - we hadn't seen each other in years. But he meant it - and the whole thing made a strange sort of sense. I must have called him back a couple of times ... and got no response from him (can't remember) because the next message from him is: "Leave it to me to ask you to marry me and then promptly disappear." When I listened this morning, I burst out laughing at that part - his deep sexy voice saying that. I ended up flying out to meet him so we could talk about this marriage thing. Because I was considering it. For many reasons. Rainy morning, we had breakfast together, stacks of pancakes, and I remember I had on saddle shoes, like Lucy van Pelt. This whole scene just came flooding back to me when I listened to that message from years ago. We sat across from each other in a booth, and I put my feet up on the seat opposite. I told him I would marry him. He ate my leftover pancakes. We talked about marriage, and we were freaked out. Rain pounded against the windows of the diner. I hadn't seen him in years. We went back to Mitchell's apartment. Mitchell ended up yelling at us because we were waffling on this marriage thing. After the pancakes? Waffles, apparently. He and I were sitting on the couch together and Mitchell lectured us sternly. "I think the two of you should spend the rest of your lives together. What the hell do you want from me?" hahahaha Mitchell was tired of us. We were tired of us.

Funny memories. But not so funny this morning.

When I saved those messages I had no idea that they would act as such eerie time-travelers.

I laughed as I listened to the tape ... there are some very funny messages on there ... but afterwards, I felt very weird. I looked around and looked at my apartment and thought: Where am I?

I am looking forward to seeing my family. Having O'Malleys raging through my apartment will remind me of the present ... will make my NOW seem real. But for now?

Haunted.

Diary Friday - Part III

Last entry for today!! (The other two parts to this particular Diary Friday entry are below this one: Part I, Part II). I can't create anything original right now. Creative life is happening offline. So!! Diary Friday: the extended version.

NOVEMBER 3 SATURDAY

I still have to finish about the party.

Eventually I had to sit down. Everything looked like it was glowing. My head swam. I never knew what all that felt like before. But I stopped drinking then - and then everything became fun. Nobody really danced because the living room is small - but Marvin and me and Joanna and Brett all dance wildly - doing imitations of Kimber as we danced. Joanna looked so cute, bouncing up and down to the music with her wings. I just had fun.

I sat for a while and talked to Lewis. He was cute. He came as a Puerto Rican and it was killing me. [Wow. That is offensive. And also very very funny.] Then I talked for so long on the couch with this guy - I think his name was Kevin - we talked about acting, ambition, perseverence - deep things and we had just met. Theatre people are so genial. They thrive on such high emotion anyway, so I really felt at home. Especially with my husband, Marvin.

There must be more men out there like Marvin. Millions! [Uhm. Guess again.] I judge my entire social life from high school - that has a population of 800 (400 who are boys, and too many who are under 16 or immature or assholes.) I have found so many wonderful open people! Ohhhh!

[Then there is an ENORMOUS smiley face drawing. The mouth of the smiley face is open.]

[More huge letters across the page:]

DINA, BRETT, JOE, MARVIN, JOANNE

I love them! I really really adore them. I want to invite them all to come see me graduate.

Oh, very scary news: we were measured for our caps and gowns on Thursday. Caps and gowns. It really is a reality. A very SOON reality.

Picnic is also a reality and it's NOT far away. Oh, and on Wednesday I had a costume fitting. I could hardly believe it was me in the reflection! Seeing two people working to construct three costumes for me ... They were pinning material on me, marking, taking notes - I stood stationary, my heart pounding. [Wanna see the end results? Here are my 3 costumes in the show.]

I can't wait for everyone to see it!

Oh. And today I took the SATs. [hahahaha I love that "Oh"]

Dead silence.

I don't want to talk about them. They're over and done with. I did my best. So there.

NOVEMBER 4

I've been playing all sorts of psychological games this week. Last Sunday's rehearsal triggered it - and all this week all these other people have been coming up with interesting games. [I literally have no idea what I am talking about.]

Okay. Joanna drove me home from the party cause Brett passed out. [hahahahahahahahahahahahaha] And at one point during the night - I felt this sort of prickling worry - like, I didn't want him to drive drunk - but I didn't want to be stranded ... People started leaving and I was sitting on the couch alone, wondering how I was going to get home. Eric came over and sat right beside me, putting his arm around me.

So that's what it feels like to relax in someone's arms. I never knew.

He was saying, "If I had a car I'd drive you - don't worry. We'll find you a ride." [Thanks, Eric!!] Eric's brother came too and I met him. Not many people were left, so Eric and I just sat on the couch talking, his arm around me. His arm felt so strong, so supportive, so warm.

Oh - and that supernice girl who was talking to Brett before came over to me and said, "I know how exhausted you must be but I am trying to find you a ride ..." [Who WAS this guardian angel?] Finally, Joanna came over to me and said, "You should have asked me long ago! I'll give you a ride home!"

When Joanna drove home, she looked SO funny with her wings behind the wheel.

I can't believe I did this - but I got home at 3:00. My poor mother. Everyone in the car was afraid I'd get in trouble. [hahahahahaha I love all these college kids being so cool with me.] My mother was lying in bed, her eyes wide open. My dad was snoring. [hahahahahahahahahahaha]

I had to go to sleep. My head was pounding. And we had rehearsal on Sunday. Brett and Eric looked horrendous the next day. Tired, pale, unshaven, hair tousled ... [Actually, it sounds kind of hot.]

When Brett saw me, he said, "Sheila O'Malley. I am so sorry. I was supposed to give you a ride home. I'm sorry! I passed out!" [Please factor in the fact that he passed out in his MIME MAKEUP. Hilarious.] Of course I said, "Don't even think about it, Brett." I mean, he'd be a lot sorrier if he drove me home and drove us over a bridge or into a tree. "I hope you had a good time, anyway," he said to me, as he huddled in his chair. I said, "I did. Thank you for inviting me. Did you have fun?" He grinned tiredly. "Loads of fun last night. Not so much fun today." For some reason, Kimber was an hour late, so we all sprawled on the stage and did stretching exercises.

We were all out of it though. We pretty much fooled around. We spelled our names with our butts. [hahahaha Have you ever done that?? Lie on your back, raise your pelvis in the air, and spell your name with your butt.] We did it unison - we did everyone there - and we'd all scream: "Dot the i!" Cause that was a pelvic thrust. It was so hysterical. We were all breathless with laughter. Ss were fun too. Good thing Kimber didn't walk in in the middle of that.

Then Joanna told us about this game that we decided to play. If you have a group of people, one person leaves and the remaining people people choose somebody in the group to be "It". Then the person who left comes back and has to ask everyone in the group one question like, "If this person were a color, what color would they be?" or "If this person were a planet, what planet would the be" or whatever. So we played that. Brett was the first one to do the asking, and Liz was IT. Let's see. She was the color yellow, a sports car, a grape, a rushing stream, the cartoon character Pebbles, and the city Philadelphia. It was so interesting to watch people try to guess. When Eric did the guessing, I was IT. I just sat there holding my breath to hear what I was. It was freaky, watching people think about what animal I would be - what food I would be - Oh, it felt strange.

Let me tell you what I was.

If I were a type of novel, I would be a romantic novel. (from Joanna)

If I were an animal, I would be a sparrow. (From Michele)

If I were a type of wood, I would be teak (From Brett)

If I were a piece of clothing, I would be blue jeans (from Linda)

If I were a type of music, I would be New Wave (from me)

If I were a food, I would be a cracker (from Liz. It was so funny - she said "cracker" with NO hesitation. It came out immediately. "What food would this person --" "Cracker." Afterwards, she said to me, "My first impulse was cereal, but ..."

If I were a stone or a gem or whatever, I would be white gold (from Joan)

And then it came time for Eric to guess - and he said "Either Michelle or Sheila." Isn't that amazing?? Everyone yelled, "Which one?" and he said, "Okay -" and he pointed at Michelle and he was assaulted with boos and gong noises. Then he looked at me and said, "Well, when I heard sparrow ... that's what made me think of you."

On Monday's reherasal, Joanna had to leave early but I didn't know that - I guess she asked Brett if he could take me home. So when I came out into the house, Brett, who was in a seat, said, "You're coming with us." I said, "I am?" He said, "Yeah -- In my car, but Joe is driving." I asked him if it was really okay. He said No problem!

Joe and Brett sat in front - Joanne and I sat in back. I like her so much. I have crushes on all the girls too! She told me that I was "holding my own" as an actress. I was really flattered because she is a WONDERFUL actress. We dropped her off at her dorm. Then Joe, Brett and I drove off to my house, talking about Kimber. I said from the backseat, "He makes me nervous." Brett started roaring. They both told me to relax, not to get frustrated. Joe had no idea where I lived so Brett gave him directions. Brett remembered.

The whole way home we had been practicing our accents, so as I got out of the car I said, "Thank you very much" in my accent - and as I climbed out, Brett suddenly said to me, "We love you, you know." I said, "I love you guys, too." It just flew out. As I went up the walk, Brett was calling out the window, "I love you!" in a twang.

Today's rehearsal: Act II. My fun act. My first date, I dance [That's me dancing with Eric - recognize him??], I get drunk, I scream, I cry, I throw up. We blocked the dancing scene. It took a while so Eric and I just waltzed slowly together, for half an hour, while Kimber blocked the rest of it. It felt so casual, it was weird. He's so tall, his hands on my back - being touched. When he first sees me in the scene, he runs over to me and hugs me, lifting me off the ground. And Eric is gorgeous, not to mention incredibly nice.

I do not want to forget any of these people and what they have meant to me.

Liz -- who makes me laugh. "A cracker"
Joanne - who is warm and deep and kind
Joanna - who I love - I just think she's great
Joe - who is so funny - his expressions!
Eric - who treats me so gently, calls me "kid", tousles my hair, and is also hysterical
Jennifer - who is so CUTE and I love her
And Brett -- well, I already know I'll never forget him.

When I throw up in Act II, I have to run into the house - Then Mrs. Potts' line is "Alan held her head and let her be sick." So I went tearing off stage, and Brett was back there, sitting on a table - I barreled over to him, and sat next to him. He held my head tight against his shoulder, and I pretended to be sick. We were both laughing. He said, "I'm sorry. But I would never help you throw up. When I see someone barf, I barf myself." We were clutching at each other, laughing. I kept leaning over the table retching and he would grab my head and I'd hear him start giggling.

The next time I come onstage, Alan leads me on and he has his arm around me. Linda (who plays Mrs. Potts) kept taking me out herself, saying, "Here's Millie - good as new" - instead of letting the TRUE blocking occur. But Brett knew it was wrong too - because I could hear him start to mildly protest - like, "Wait a sec ..." Then Kimber read aloud the correct blocking so we backed through the door and came out again. I love Act II.

On Sunday, me, Liz and Joanna worked in the morning. Then those two had this long scene that couldn't get right and they worked on it for at least 45 minutes. I still felt like Millie after doing the fight scene when I pull Madge's hair. I really did. I came offstage and it took me about 10 minutes to calm down. I sat on the floor beside the stairs of the platform. It was my own little corner. I saw Brett walk by - he saw me and we were just whispering - he asked me what they were working on, how long they'd been working. I answered his questions but I didn't say anything else. I don't know why. I couldn't think of an interesting thing to say. So just as he turned to leave, I managed to whisper, "How are you doing?" He turned to smile at me.

If there's one thing I can't stand - it's a phony. I won't tolerate them and I tell you: I can see them RIGHT away. Brett is so genuine. Even the little things - like the smile there. I wouldn't have remembered it if there hadn't been something in it - real, kind, nice, friendly - that's what he is. Is he for real? Why do men like him exist? Even my happiness hurts now. Everything is so good it hurts.

Brett and I went out into the lounge to talk. We checked the schedule on the bulletin board - we stood there talking. We talked about being insecure. He was saying, "That's what I'm having trouble with with Alan. His insecurities. I've gotten over my personal insecurities - so that's where I have trouble." I laughed, "Oh, that's no problem for me! I haven't gotten over my personal insecurities so it's easy to play them!" We both laughed and he squeezed my shoulders. "Well - hopefully this play will get your confidence up where it belongs."

When I am with him, I don't become someone I'm not. I don't act like a flake. I don't feel like he's making me feel inferior, or trying to brag. He doesn't talk down to me. I really hate it when TS does that. I LET TS do it to me, and it makes me angry.

[Ooh. Look at that. A little distance and suddenly I can feel my anger!]

I have to talk to TS. I haven't seen him in so long. I feel like I'm shriveling up and dying. I am giving my all to everything. Everybody is squeezing as much out of me as they can get. I have rehearsals: Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. I am in every scene of this play. It's tiring. Yesterday, I was over at Anne's house for a while. As we drove into the driveway, a car pulled up - In it were Matt and TS. I haven't seen or talked to TS since the stupid Sadie Hawkins. So it felt awkward and awful. Anne and I went over to their car as they got out. TS said me and said, "Hey, Sheila. How's the play going?" [So cold!] I said, "Pretty good. How's your movie?" And he said, "I'm not gonna start until December."

Diary - that was it. Oh it was HORRENDOUS. It was like we were strangers. No one can imagine how confused I am. I see Brett every single day and months pass between the times I see TS. It's been so long since I saw him and I swear to God I don't have the time to do anything about it. Now all I want is to see him, be with him, talk with him - it's driving me nuts. I keep seeing the hug again in my mind - [which is so interesting - because now, what with Brett and Eric - hugging me left and right- a hug lost some of its power] I want to get back to that moment with TS in the darkness with the trees around, and SQUEEZE him to me forever. Standing in the driveway at Anne's house, being all polite and cold, it was hard to believe we had ever shared anything like that. His arms tight around me, the warmth.

I am NEVER home. I do NO homework. I get home at 11:30, my eyes dried up and bloodshot, and I get up at 6:00 am. I look like death. I mope like a drug addict through the halls of high school. Then, at 6:00 pm, I take a shower, run around, eat for the first time all day, change, go over my lines - Then 4 hours of reherasal totally wipes me out. I feel bad for neglecting my diary [Are you fucking KIDDING ME???????] but I don't have time. I am doing so much.

I am learning so much. And it doesn't help that I have TS to think about. Wouldn't you know - GOD - wouldn't you know - my luck - that I'd get in a play with someone like Brett.

Kate and I were talking about how our situations are similar. She's still doing the retreat, I'm doing Picnic - 2 different groups of people - and both groups are so much more open than what you get during the day in high school. It's so much harder to come back into high school after being with these people.

I have this sketch pad as a prop - and every time I open it someone has written in it something new. I never know who does it. Funny little cartoons, messages to Millie - one huge smiley face by Michelle that has "HI MILLIE, I LOVE YOU!" coming out of its mouth in a balloon.

It's just so open. I mean, lookat me. I felt like I was their friend the first day of rehearsal. High school is so stagnant, and relationships with the opposite sex are so stilted - and people can be so narrow-minded. Kate is going through exactly the same thing. How do you come back to high school after a night with the retreat people or the theatre people? I feel so dissatisfied and empty.

I am exhausted.

Perpetually.

I can almost feel my brain aching.

Diary Friday - part II

Part II of the entry below this one ...

I think I'm gonna have to do a Part III as well ... This is a long-ass entry. But it's great - especially for my friends who will remember this time, and who will know the people of which I speak. This is an entry of 1000 names. A big blast from the past!!

OCTOBER 29 MONDAY

What a weekend. Wow.

Wow.

I could sit here and write forever if I had time. I don't even know if I want to.

_____________________________________

Okay, it's after school now. In order to get a ride home I had to come to Brendan's JV game where Mum will be - but it's raining, so I'm sitting here alone in a deserted dugout. I am in the mood to write it down now so that I can forget this fucking bad day.

So for the rest of the breaks, we all just sat around on the platforms discussing Halloween costumes. Since it was so sudden, I didn't have time to think yet.

Okay the key word I think - is fondness. That's what I keep thinking. He'd look at me and grab the back of my neck. "What are you going as, Millie?" I hadn't even gotten used to the fact that I was actually going. I didn't even feel enthusiastic yet. More nervous than anything. I love everybody. They want me to feel welcome. I can feel it.

[Now HUGE letters:]

GOD I AM HAPPY NOW! [so much for that "fucking bad day", huh?]

Rehearsal went til 5:00. After rehearsal I was getting my stuff together and I said to Joanna (who usually drives me home) - "I am gonna go to the O'Neill's tonight." Because she wasn't sure if she was gonna. So she said, "Oh! Oh - okay - I still have to decide what I want to do." Brett bounded down the stairs looking at me. "Do you need a ride?" I glanced at Joanna and she looked at Brett - "Oh - could you? Cause I'm not going straight home --" So he shrugged - "Sure. Great!"

[Brett: I know you're reading this. hahahahahaha Again: look at how closely I record YOUR EVERY GESTURE!!]

Everything worked like clockwork. Brett and I headed out to his car together. It felt good. Friendly. I really think Brett is something special. It all goes back to how I see myself. I can't understand why people would be nice to me for no reason. I don't let it bug me too much because it doesn't ruin how I feel about them - but it's still in the back of my mind: "Why do they like me?" I do that to myself every minute of the day. Especially ESPECIALLY with guys. And Brett -- he's hardly a high school kid. Neither is Eric or Joe. But they're nice. They include me. I am one of them. It was just cool and grown-up - getting into Brett's car with him. Massive massive crush here! But I don't care! He's HIP!!!!! [hahahaha "Hip"? Brett - did you know that you are "hip"?] He's a new friend. I love it.

As Brett started the car he said, "Let us pray that it gets out of Park." It's an automatic. And it did! I said, "It's showing off for me, I think." Now here's the best part. We were driving along and discussing the party - I can't get over how at ease I feel with him. God, I just feel like praising him to all the world. Praising everyone in this cast to the whole world!

I am lucky. I know that.

Right as we got to my street - he said, "Are you expected home or anything?" And I shrugged. "No." And he said, "Cause I was gonna ask if you wanted to go for some dinner at McDonalds."

My heart stopped. Then flew. Then stopped again. Then soared.

It wasn't like I sat there thinking, "Oh my God, what does it mean??" I felt just plain terrific happiness - and this love for everybody. Happy. That's what I felt. So I looked at him and said, "Really?" And he nodded, smiling at me, "Yeah!" So I nodded and said, "If you want to stop by my house - I don't have any money." And he just - like TS does - said, "Oh, don't worry about it."

Shit. Is it possible to really like two people at the same time? [Yes. That's the answer.] Of course it's possible - because it's happening to me right now.

So we drove on - and as we passed by my street he said, "Well - finally Millie and Alan are on a date!" It was strange - but as we drove along talking, I practically felt in awe of myself, and my own life. It was neat. I felt tingley. Special. Like we were really friends. [I was right. We were. And still are.]

He told me about Kimber's class. It felt so funny to be cruising along with him! I mean, I felt hopelessly sophisticated. [If you could have seen what Brett's car looked like at that time - you would laugh out loud that I would have felt "sophisticated" in it.] I mean, I also felt very young and naive - but - I was talking, too. [When I got intimidated with guys, I would clam up. Literally have not a word in my head, nothing to say. I never ever felt that with Brett. I was a blabbermouth with him. We would just blabber together. Very different for me.]

Am I madly in love with him? I mean, it feels like it. I guess I could just brood about this for eternity. [Wow. That sounds like FUN!]

We got to McDonalds. Being there - on my own turf -- with him -- was weird. [It was the McDonalds near my high school. My friends and I would walk up there during open-campus periods and have lunch] I think of college as being its own little world but there we were in the McDonalds where I have eaten 1000 times! I was with a 20 year old college junior who is gorgeous, nice, funny - He's a combination of so many great things. As we ordered - I did feel like his buddy ... almost like we were actually Millie and Alan. [Our parts in the show] We were laughing, ordering, being normal people together. [I was dating "TS" at this time, and as much as I liked him there were times when I was so self-conscious with him that I could barely keep up my end of the conversation. That was what I was used to happening with boys. But I didn't feel any of that with Brett.]

It's strange when you see someone only in one atmosphere . It felt so different to be with him outside of the theatre. It was all so damn wonderful. We shared my McNuggets. He got 3 hamburgers. [hahahahaha] We sat in a corner booth. We were totally hysterical with laughter. I can't remember why exactly - but we started talking about auditions - and how psyched I must be to be in the show. Brett told me that Kimber and a few other people were sitting around talking about the cast choices, and Brett told me that Kimber said, "Well, Sheila O'Malley is Millie."

And I said something like, "Yeah, no wonder the whole thing comes so naturally to me. Listen to my lines. 'How do you talk to boys?' 'How do you go on a date?'" Brett stopped eating cause he started laughing, and he slid around the seat next to me, hugging me with one arm as he laughed. When he hugs me it's so genial, so friendly, so comfortable. It's nothing to worry about. I love it.

I can't believe we ate at McDonalds together!! [It truly was one of the most extraordinary events of the 20th century. I totally can see that now.]

I also started looking forward to the party, even though I was getting more nervous than I had ever been before a date with TS. My first party. I tend to be a recluse. I'm shy. So as we ate I asked him, "So what are your parties like?" And he shrugged. "Oh, music. Craziness." I said, "I am shakin' in my boots." He almost spit out his soda. We both were laughing but I had to tell him the truth! He was like, "No, no, they're fun. Nothing big. Just relaxed. You can meet a lot of other people who aren't in Picnic." We had a really cool conversation. He went to NYU for a year but he hated it cause everyone was so self-centered and next year he's spending the fall studying abroad in London. (Oh, isn't that HIP?) [Sheila. What's with the sudden overuse of the word "hip"?] He said, "But I'll be back in time for you to see me graduate."

He laughs at my jokes. Really laughs. It feels mutual. It's almost the first time that this has happened to me. I didn't feel unsure at all. I could have been sitting there talking with Kate or Mere. No discomfort. I didn't try to be anyone other than myself.

He's also good with kids. There was this little girl sitting at another table. She was about 2 with blonde curls. I couldn't see her because my back was to her, but all of a sudden Brett's face lit up in this grin, so I turned around and saw her, and for about a minute we sat there waving at her, making faces. It was so cute.

I got this weird sense of being able to step outside myself and see myself. This happens to me a lot with TS, too. I mean, as we sit together at the movies - I feel like I am really removed fromt he situation, and I can feel everyone looking at us and seeing us together - I get the sense of what we look like to other people. I get this even more so with Brett because I'm not used to being with him - he is somebody new and I could hardly believe I was there myself. I couldn't help it thought - I kept thinking: "What if TS walks in right now?" Or DW - or J or Kate - what would they think? I feel so far away from my friends now. I have this whole other life - and I tell them the stories - but none of them can put faces, yet, to the new people I talk about constantly. I can tell them about rehearsals - but it's weird to be experiencing something that they are not experiencing. It's so weird. Sometimes I feel like I belong more with the URI people than with the high school people - Not my friends - I belong with them - but just the whole school atmosphere. I am SO out of school now. If I thought I felt alienated before - now I'm just going to school to kill time before I go to college. It just feels strange and makes me feel far away from my friends. And school itself seems unreal. LIke - it is going on without me there, but I'm not even noticing. I don't even care.

On the way home, Brett told me the plot of Hooters. [A play that had happened the year before - with Brett, Liz, Eric, and Dina. Still fresh in everyone's minds. I hadn't seen it.] I wish I had seen it. As I got out of the car at my house, I leaned back in and said, "Thanks a lot, Brett." And he smiled at me. "You bet. See you tonight."

Then I ran inside and sat down.

I was trembling. I was so happy it scared me. It was unbelievably real. I couldn't stand how nice it all was. I just sat on the couch grinning. Then I turned on some music and danced. No one else was home. Then I went up to my room and threw together my costume. When I had come home for my break, I had told Dad about the party and he said "Sure" I could go. [Thanks, Dad!!] My parents are cool. Then Mum came home and I told her the whole thing about going to McDonalds. She was excited for me. [Thanks, Mum! Hahahahaha] Then the three of us went up to see the O'Neills. I had my costume in a paper bag.

[A word: The "O'Neills" was a night of one-acts by Eugene O'Neill - all taken from the collection "Seven Plays of the Sea". David (one of my best friends now) was in one of the plays - I talked about it here. But I hadn't met him yet. We've now been friends for 20 years. The things we've gone through. I mean, good Lord. Anyway. I will always look fondly on that night of O'Neills. Great night of theatre. First time I ever laid eyes on David.]

It was a beautiful night. Very clear and starry.

At the theatre, my parents went to look at some of the artwork [To my siblings: Some things never change!!] so I went down to the theatre. It was in a tiny little room that seats 100 behind the main theatre. So people had to walk through the main theatre and up on the stage where our platforms are set up. It was so strange - because I felt like an insider. That main stage felt like MINE. When I walked into the littler space, I felt even more like an insider - because Joanna waved to me across the room and Lenny called me over to sit with them. So I went and sat down - Lenny was sitting with this kid, I think his name was Lewis. He was cute. They are all so real.

Brett was sitting in front of us. The room was so small that it was really crowded so I didn't see my parents and Jean. [Oh! Jean came! Hi, Jean!] Lenny said something really crude and I said, "Please, Lenny. My parents are here." [hahaha Bitch-slapping rude people even at 16!] Brett immediately turned around amd said, "Your parents are here?" I nodded. "Where?" I scanned the audience - I couldn't find them. Turns out, they were sitting in the front row facing the stage - I guess they were watching me and they saw me looking around so they started to inconspicuously wave their fingers at me. [hahahaha They were trying to be invisible.] I waved back - Brett keps saying, "Where? Where?" I pointed. I was sitting right behind him - Then he saw my mother's little wave, and Jean's little smiling face. Brett waved back. We were all laughing.

When that finished, Brett turned around to me and said, "Introduce me after, okay?"

When Brett wasn't looking at my anymore, I glanced at Mum and she made a little "OK" circle with her fingers and then pretended she was casually fluffing out her hair with it. [BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA]

The shows were so so good. Joanne was in one - but the guy who was really good is named David. He cried real tears on stage. I saw them. He was incredible.

[I had no idea how close I would get to David. It's just amazing to look at these first encounters ... in my teenage diary. No one can see the future. No one can know. I wasn't even introduced to him that night. But there he is. My first impression of him. He cried real tears on stage! I saw the tears! And yes: he was incredible. An incredible actor.]

After the show we were all standing up trying to decide who was going with who, etc. I wanted to go over to my parents to tell them I was leaving right away, so as I started over, Brett detached himself from the group and said, "Oh! I have to go meet the O'Malleys!"

College men are different. I can't believe how different they are. It's a good different.

So I brought him over to my parents and said, "This is Brett." (Boy, did I feel different. Not me at all.) Introducing this guy who has become my friend. He's 20. But he's my friend. And he wanted to meet my parents and my sister. I want everyone to meet him. I want to introduce him to all my friends - to Betsy and Mere and Beth and Kate and J - So he shook hands with Mum, Dad and Jean - I stood there, glowing, like, "THIS is Brett!" My mother was saying, "You look familiar. What else have you been in here?" He said, "Uh - Moliere - the Threepenny Opera ..." -- But she couldn't place it. Then we all started out of the room. I was walking with Brett, and Mum, Dad and Jean were walking behind us. As Brett and I walked out, he said, "So what are you going as?" I said, "A blind beggar." He started laughing. "Hey, that's cool!" I asked him what he was going as and he said, "I have no imagination. I'm going as a mime." [More humor: He was a TALKING mime. Which defeats the whole purpose. But it was hysterical. He would stand there and say out loud, "So now I'm in a wind tunnel ---" and then clap his hand over his mouth in horror that he had spoken.]

And just then - Jean remembered seeing him in The Threepenny Opera - He turned around and leaned over to Jean, smiling at her, "I was the one in the long beard." I can tell they liked him. And he was nice to them, and respectful. And then I realized that it didn't just feel like we were becoming friends. We are becoming friends. I am letting him meet other people in my life.

Brett turned to me and said, "I'm gonna go change in G Studio ..." I said, "Okay. I'll change in the bathroom." He smiled at me. "Okay. Then I'll meet you out here in the lobby." I nodded and he went running off. My parents were still there.

It felt like that time when TS and I walked home and we arrived at the same time as my parents and we were all treating it as though it were the most normal thing in the world, me being on a date, and out late at night, and all grown-up and stuff. I mean - they were now leaving me in the hands of the guy they just met - to go to a party - that was starting at 11 pm - and I had no definite ride home - and it was this unspoken thing that we all knew that there would be drinking there. I have no idea if they were worried about all of this. [hahahaha My parents are kind of amazing me right now. They obviously trusted my judgment]

"Bye, Mum! Bye, Dad!"
"Call us if there's a problem."

Then Mum came over to me and said, "Be home by midnight." I just stared at her and said, "Don't do this to me, Mum." She said patiently, "I'm kidding, Sheila." Laughter. So I was carefree. I was tingly all over!

I went off into the bathroom and changed.

I had run out of Touch Control. [Which is obviously an enormous tragedy] I had had to blow dry my hair to convince it to stick up like it does when I have Touch Control.

Back at home when I found out I had run out of Touch Control, I was wailing, "Why tonight? Why did I have to run out of it tonight?" And Brendan sort of beckoned me to come over - and when I was next to him, he said, in a hushed voice, "Uh .... Sheila ... would a beggar really have Touch Control?"

[I am laughing out loud.]

I have such a funny brother.

I quickly changed into my costume. My hands were shaking. The lights in the bathroom are really harsh so I always look rather bad in my reflection. Grey shadows beneath my eyes, dark lips, chalky skin - I splashed water on my face to feel fresher. I did look pretty good in my costume. I love the gloves and the skirt. I went out into the lobby which by now was almost empty. Brett wasn't out yet but standing there was Paul Collins! [Wow! Forgot about this and how much I loved him. I knew him from the camp I went to - and also the religious retreat that I continuously talked about for all the other entries. I knew him from there. Great guy. At least in my memory he was.] I haven't seen him since the summer! They don't come to the 8:00 anymore. [The 8 pm Sunday mass that I went to every week.] I went running over to him - It was so good to see him. I started to explain why I looked the way I did and he went, "I wasn't gonna say a word!" So we talked for a while. He had known one of the guys in the show and was waiting for him so we just chatted. I asked him WHY they don't come to the 8:00 anymore - because that was the only time I got to see them! Paul gives wonderful hugs.

After a while, Brett came out. He was dressed in black but he had forgot his makeup at home. I went back into the bathroom (I had forgotten my tin cup). In the bathroom, I put on my dark glasses and I came blundering out, flailing my arms and holding out my cup. Brett was having fits. Every person that walked by, he'd grab and go, "Look at this." He said to me, "At the party we'll just stick you in a corner. I'm gonna be so into it. The blind beggar at my party." Every time he looked at me he started laughing.

There was this other girl named Carla that he was giving a ride too. She was so nice. I really liked her a lot. We had to stop off at her house first so she could find a costume. [Wow, Carla. No time like the present, huh?] I said goodbye to Paul and Brett, Carla and I started for his car. Everyone in the O'Neills would be at the party - everyone in Picnic - but the majority of people I would not know. I felt very very young.

But glad that I would be arriving with Brett. After all, it was his house - so I'd be arriving on firm ground. I wouldn't have to slip in and whisper hello to everyone. [Uhm. Why would you behave that way anyway?] Carla lives in the neighborhood opposite mine! That's strange. She has her own house. As we walked up her steps, I was still being blind, stretching my arms out in front of me searchingly. Brett took my elbow to help me up the stairs.

I'm sorry I mention it every time he touches me. But I remember it all so vividly.

Everything hurts me so much. Without even trying it hurts. The beauty of life, the loneliness, the alination, the happiness - God, it all hurts so much. I miss my friends. But right now my life is in that theatre. My life is Kimber, Brett, Joanna, Liz, Eric, Lenny, Linda, Joanne, Joe, Jennifer. My life is Millie Owens. But that just makes me feel very very alone. Everything's happening so quickly. My life is happening so fast. My senior year is zipping by and I don't even notice cause I'm not even there.

While Carla rummaged around for a costume, Brett and I sat on her stairs talking. He makes me LAUGH. He told me about some of his Halloween costumes as a kid. Once he made himself into a huge orange papier-mache pumpkin and he painted his face green - and he wore a green hat - and so many people crushed him by saying, "Oh! You're a basketball!" Brett was like, "Yeah. I'm a basketball with a green stem. Thanks a lot."

Carla took a while. [I don't even remember Carla, but I'm annoyed at her right now. Get your act together, woman.]

The talk I had with Brett on the stairs calmed me down. [Why was I nervous? Because I had seen after-school specials about people forced to drink alcohol, forced to do drugs, forced to have sex ... I had read "Go Ask Alice". I was frightened of being too young but also I knew what I was and was not ready for. Just scared of being confronted with all that stuff and to have the beautiful bubble of acceptance suddenly shattered. Like: "Wow. We thought Sheila was cool ... now we can see that she's just a kid!" That's what I feared the most. Being blown off because of my age.] Everyone I've met so far is so nice. They accept me without judgment. But being with Brett calmed me down. It made me feel so much more comfortable. If I had had to have my parents drop me off at the party - and if I had had to come to the door by myself - and knock - and have a total stranger answer - and enter alone not knowing a soul - no starting point -- Thank God that didn't happen. I would have shriveled.

On the way over I said, "Don't let me sit in a coner all night, okay?" Carla and Brett both started laughing and went, "Ohhhh Sheila!" But I really was nervous.

Once I got there though, I was fine. We were about the first people there. Brett lives with Joe and Lenny and two girls: P. and one other girl who wasn't at the party. [That girl is Brooke - we would become fast friends a year later. SO WEIRD to see the beginnings of all of this!!] Brett described P. as a bitch. He told me that she does drugs and everything. He said, "She really scared me one night. She started screaming and swaying and turning the thermostat up to 100 degrees. I was screeching Ah! Don't do that!'"

Brett's house is in a beautiful place - on a hill overlooking the sea. It was dark but all the lights of the houses were trembling in the water. In their house, there were cobwebs strugn up. They had jack o'lanterns in every window and a fire in the fireplace. Furry spiders dangled from doorways. All the lights were off and there were candles everywhere. The radio was blaring Thriller. Atmosphere!

Not many people were there yet. P. was dressed in rags, her face painted white, her hair haywire. Carla and I were just standing in the living room and P. stalked up to us and said to me, "Who are you?" My my. I don't think I saw her smile once the whole party. For about the first half-hour, I stood in the same position by the same armchair. I was too petrified to move. [David: did you come to this party??] Brett ran upstairs to put his mime makeup on and left me to fend for myself. People started coming. I knew none of them.

But then Joan came. Oh God, she's cool. She was a miniskirt with a scarf through her hair. Everyone had beers. Joan offered me one, but I guess I wasn't ready. I felt cold and lonely and alienated. I wished for Beth. Betsy. Mere. J. I wished they were all there with me.

Then this guy came. His name is Marvin. [I LOVE MARVIN!!] He's one of Brett's best friends. He graduated last year, and is now in the Looking Glass Theatre company - Marvin is 22/23. He's a man. [hahaha] I had this really wicked conversation with him. [This was a time when "wicked" could stand on its own as a descriptive term.] Nobody gave a shit that I was in high school. It wasn't even like they did a double-take. It was just - "Wow! You must be so psyched to have gotten the part of Millie!" I asked him how he liked Looking Glass, and he told me that (wonder of wonders) they're doing Antigone. I said, "Really! So is my school!" He got so excited. "Really? I'd love to see it! Who are you playing?" "Eurydice." "Hey! You're my wife!" So for the rest of the night I called him Creon, he called me Eurydice. He referred to me as his "wife." "That beggar is my wife."

He had the most hysterical costume. He slicked his hair straight up and taped a sign on his shirt: "I'M SCARED." He would stand in a corner, holding his beer, his eyes bugged out, his mouth wide open - with that sign and the hair - Everybody was ROLLING.

People I knew started coming. Liz came. She had been a candidate for Homecoming Queen, but she didn't get it. So she dressed in this skin-tight spangled dress, with a crown and a banner slung across her that said: Ms. Massengill. She said, "Okay, so I didn't get to be Homecoming Queen. Instead I get to be Ms. Dousche Bag." [hahahaha]

I'm learning not to judge people at face value - like Joan. When I first met her, I could feel my dislike for her - for no good reason! She's great! Now I love her. I love them all. They are all eccentric, funny - cool - They don't judge me!

Marvin offered me a beer. I don't know why, I still said No thanks. I mean, it's not like I look down on drinkers or that I'm a prude - but I guess I wasn't used to being in a situation where it was like, "No problem, have a beer." In high school it's this huge hush hush thing. [Well, except if you're Amish.] I have just never had the opportunity to drink. I've never been to a party like that one before. Never been invited to one. Never drank before. But Diary, when I said "No thanks" to Marvin - it wasn't a biggie. In high school, it is honestly a big deal: who does/ who doesn't. I mean, DW asked me twice if I was a "buveur' - WHO CARES?

At one rehearsal, we came to the part when I have to get drunk and throw up. Kimber asked me, "Have you ever been drunk?" Two unusual things happened. I said, "No." First of all, I didn't feel stupid saying that. The reason I'm not invited to parties isn't because people don't like me - It's because -- dammit -- I'm not a lush. Isn't that so stupid. "We don't like you cause you don't consume alcohol." And when I said "No" - instead of being confronted with stares of shock - Liz said, "You're lucky". And Brett said, "I wouldn't wish that on anyone." It was so cool. Nobody gives a fuck.

Anyways, when I said "No thanks" to Marvin - he said, "There are alternate drinks if you want - Pepsi, Ginger Ale." [Oh, Marvin. I love you.] So I said sure to that. He was so friendly - like a big huggable teddy bear.

Joanne came. She looked like the Ghost of Christmas Future -- [Tracey!!! Oh mygosh!! Sorry!] -- black cape, black dress, dark glasses.

Dina came as the Bride of Frankenstein. She painted her hair black and had somehow made it all stand straight up. She has really long hair, past her shoulders - It was STRAIGHT UP. She had on this silky black gown. I like her so much. Later on in the party, we talked for a long time, and it was fun.

Oh, and Dina would randomly start screaming to go with her hair and her costume.

I can talk to these people. I'm happy. I really am.

Then just as a lot of people started showing up, Brett came jumping down the stairs getting all tangled up in the cobwebs. His hair was all slicked back and his face was apinted white with red lips and black marks around his eyes. After he went around saying hi to people, he started back up the stairs, then leaned over the bannister and called my name. He beckoned to me. I walked through the crowds and he said, "Come on -- I'll show you around!"

I'm doing all of this on my own and I have no idea what I am doing. I CAN'T wing it. I am scared to death.

I ducked under the cobwebs and followed him up the stairs. It was really noisy and crowded downstairs, but upstairs it wasn't as bad. There are three small bedrooms with slanted roofs. One is Joe's, one is Brett's, one is Lenny's. I pretty much only saw Brett's room. (That sounds terrible).

BUT he has a stereo, and the slanted ceiling is entirely covered with a mammoth poster of the New York skyline at night. [Oh God, I had totally forgotten about that until just now!] It's right over his bed. When I'm in college, I'd really like to buy or rent a house with a few other people. [Buy??] It seems really fun.

Brett was saying to me in his room, "I don't know any of the people downstairs!" Carla, Dina, Marvin, Brett and I just sat in his room and talked and told funny stories. Right before they all came up, Brett said, "You want a beer?"

I remember Anne and Laura on that wild summer night last summer telling me that if I drank just to get a little buzz that it might relax me a little. So I said, "Sure." So off he went running. He looked so hysterical in his makeup. A mime that spoke. Then those other three came up, and perched on his bed - and Brett came back with a beer for me.

I was cool as a cuke. I drank the beer out of my beggar's tin cup.

Which seemed like a good idea, but the problem was that I couldn't keep track of how much I had that way. Later on in the night I couldn't even stand up. Yes, I have now been drunk. But -- it was fun! It always used to seem like this sinful gross degenerate thing -- but later on, downstairs - everyone started dancing - and I started dancing - and I felt free. I don't need alcohol to lose my inhibitions - but it was a lot easier. [Ain't it the truth!] But it was fun. In high school, it seems like people get drunk just to get wasted and throw up. That wasn't what this was like. I don't know the reason why I drank but I don't care so it felt good.

During the summer Brett works with Special Ed kids and he has their pictures on the wall, and all of the presents they made for him on his desk.

Isn't he perfect? Can you stand it? When I saw the photo of him with his arm around this little boy with glasses who was waving --

I love this guy. And I just met him but that doesn't matter. I came alive at that party. I loved it.

We all went downstairs later one. SO MANY people were there. Wall to wall.

Joanna was there in a hilarious fairy costume with pink glittery wings. She looked so funny. [Joanna had been stopped by the cops on her way over for some traffic violation. And there she was, at the wheel, with her pink glittery wings and her fairy crown. The cop said something to her like, "Why were you goin' so fast? Did a bunch of kids lose teeth tonight or somethin'?" Hahahahahaha]

Joanne was dancing by herself so I went over and danced with her. We have to dance together in Picnic too. She's a very warm person. Very comforting. God, is she talented too. She is such an intense actress.

Eric was there. All in black leather and spikes. I love him too. I swear, I am in love with 5 people right now. There are rumors going about that he is secretly engaged right now. He's so nice. When he saw me he gave me a hug and said, "Hey, Cutie-pie. I'm glad you're here."

I am being ASSAULTED by all of this GOODNESS. It's hard. It really is. It's so intense.

They have a screened-in porch overlooking the Bay. It was so beautiful and cool and fresh out there. I could see the water. I was standing out there just looking and enjoying, being happy. Brett was talking to someone in the doorway -- this girl -- I wish I could remember her name cause she was so so so supernice.

They were talking about makeup kits. I couldn't help it - but I stood there listening. I looked at Brett. I didn't mean to stare - as he was talking to her, occasionally he would glance at me and give me this -- oh, words fail me -- this smile -- just a warm real confidential FOND smile. For no reason. I can still see that smile now.

I was always afraid to make eye contact with DW - afraid that he would catch me looking at him. So he'd glance at me and I'd chicken out. But with Brett -- the kindess of his smiles made me ache. I couldn't stand it -- to be out on that porch at night - feeling like: This is where I belong.

The painful beauty of the world. The painful beauty of Saturday. That day was achingly painfully beautiful and marvelous.

Then - after that girl (who was so so supernice) meandered away, Brett and I were out on the porch. I was peeking out at the stars and the water, leaning against the wall. And then Brett was standing in front of me, miming for me - He slid along a wall, tried to push the wall out of the way - He looked so different with the makeup on. It made him look very young, very innocent.

Then -- you would have had to see him to feel the sweetness of it: He leaned over, and pantomimed that he had gathered something up. He held "it" up to his nose, sniffed, smiled - putting a hand over his heart. Then he handed the invisible flower to me.

I've never quite felt the way I did right then. I wanted to cry. It was pure. A pure moment. I wanted to hug him and never ever let go. So I stood there on the dark porch, with the sea-salt in the air, holding the flower - Brett, still playing the mime, smiled at my shyly. I put my hand over my heart, and then held it out to him. It was Me to Him. It was the right thing to do. After our day together. Our friend day. I give you my heart.

Then he came over to me and we HUGGED. He just squeezed my back - I hugged him - alone on the porch.

He got white face makeup all over my sweater's shoulder. It's still there. Tee hee!

I have more to tell about the party - and also rehearsals, but I have to go to sleep.

What a week.

Diary Friday

Next installment in the Picnic adventure - I'm breaking this one up into 2 parts - the second part will come later today.

Part 1. The audition
Part 2: The callbacks, getting into the play
Part 3: First meeting with the director
Part 4. The calm before the storm ... the time before rehearsals started ... memorizing lines, etc.
Part 5. Rehearsals start
Part 6. Rehearsals. Stress building.
Part 7. Crush with Brett intensifying. Finding my own way as an actress. Stress building.
Part 8. Dropping out of religious retreat with much sturm und drang.

Quick comment: I love how my friends and family now reference Diary Friday, casually, to each other, as though it is an actual brand name.
"So - did you catch Diary Friday last week?"

hahahaha

I adore that!!

Okay, onward.

When last we checked in with 16 year old Sheila she had had a tear-soaked day because she had had to drop out of the retreat she had been working on ... but there was hope because Brett was "having a Halloween party tonight".

OCTOBER 27

Quarter of 7:00 -- Actually I must go into detail later. [hahaha I love the frenzy with which I begin, coupled with the extremely exact time] But what a perfect day. Today was PERFECT!

I went to rehearsal dreading it cause I had to smoke. [See last entry for explanation] Well, the first scene we did didn't have that in it. After it, we were (Liz, Joanna, me, Brett, Michele) were sitting around talking. They were all talking about what costumes they were gonna wear to Brett's party and they were rolling around laughing about past Hallowwns and funny costumes (Brett was a Coke can once. He couldn't move. Liz, every Halloween, when she was little, managed to trip and spill all hler candy) I was just sitting and listening and laughing when suddenly Brett looked at me and said, "You're invited, you know." [SO NICE. Inviting a 16 year old to your big party!! So nice!] Everyone looked at me nodding. I said, "Who? What? Where?" So he said, "Oh, it's at my house. Yeah, right, I'm just gonna let you find it, huh? No - one of us can give you a ride." So I said yes.

So I'm going. I'm going to a real college party. I just decided what I'm gonna wear. Everyone else has all these off-the-wall costumes. Michele wants to go as a blind driveway. [BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA] Eric wants to go as Michele's sex life. [hahahahahahaha] Brett wants to go as the following statement: "I have writer's block."

I have no imagination. I'm going as a blind beggar. Wear my fingerless gloves, dark glasses, hold a tin cup, my huge sweater ... Well, I was feeling pretty good about being invited. I could go home for about 2 1/2 hours so Joanna drove me and Liz home. As we drove, Liz turned to me and said, "Millie, you should go." We all call each other by our cast names. So I'm going.

When I came back up to rehearsal I was standing backstage. Kimber was blocking a part of the play I wasn't in. So I was standing there and Brett and Lenny were sprawled behind me. Brett asked me again if I had gotten a haircut - then he immediately said, "Oh, I already asked you that, didn't I? ... I like it." Then he came over to me and put one arm around me, it felt so cozy. He just squeezed me and said, "Seriously, Sheila -- I want you to come to this party." (Oh brother. I haven't talked to TS in a week. Oh boy.) I smiled up at him. "Serious?" He nodded. Everyone's so nice to me. Especially him and Liz and Eric and Joanna. I really feel comfortable with all of them. I've found a niche. I bleong with them. I really belong with them. So standing there with Brett's arm fondly around me - I felt so warm, so good, so wanted. In a friend way. And the thing is, in college - I'm finding that it's possible to have just as close friendships with the opposite sex as with kids your own sex. [Yes, darling, true, but ... Oh well. Time will teach you the complexities of all of this soon enough!] Brett could be my best friend with how close we are. I consider TS one of my closest friends. In high school, at least in the building of the high school - that just doesn't happen. [hahahaha As though there is a forcefield around the structure: No friendships with the opposite sex beyond this point!] But also, I feel like I am falling hard for Brett. Oh God. And what about TS? I really am very confused about this. [But what delightful confusion to have!!]

He was grinning at me. You can tell a lot about people from their smiles. I can tell immediately a fake smile-for-the-sake-of-smiling-smile. But Brett's - his is so real that it makes my heart feel full. [And this is still true.] It makes me feel like squeezing him forever. I love him. I just think he is so incredibly cool. People like him should NOT exist!

I can't tell you how strange my life feels now. It feels wonderful. I am having -- I can't even tell you -- such a wonderful time -- full of love and ambition and hard work and plain old terrific people.

As Brett and I stood there, he asked me what I was gonna go as. I didn't know yet - but I started to feel psyched. Especially feeling that people like me. Before when he first invited me, everyone was talking about going to the O'Neill One Acts [cue David!!] and then going to the party. I was planning on going already with my parents - so it would all work out. I told him this and he squeezed me even tighter, smiling at me. "Great!"

I love his face. It is such a great face. Brett said, "Okay, that's terrific. We'll all go to the O'Neills. Then we can change into costumes here, and I'll drive you back to my house. Okay?" "I bring my costume to the O'Neills?" He nodded. "Is that okay?" I nodded.

You know what? In spite of it all - the hugging, and my crush and stuff - it all feels just like a wonderfully close friendship. It's special. I love being with him, I guess.

So now I am off to the O'Neills. God, I still have so much more to tell about today. You won't believe it! [Uhm ... who ya talkin' to, Sheila?]

Part II to follow ...

"I had climbed onto the Moral Slip-n-Slide, and slippery it was indeed"

Amazing post (great writing!!) about plagiarism. I highly recommend you read it. (I mean, I highly recommend you read that blog, in general. I love it.)

But that's one damn fine post. Well done.

In memory of Tim

and in memory of all the others....

Thank you, Alex. You're a great great writer. I love that cat. Got me a little choked up, that cat did. Actually, the whole thing just wrecked me.

Much love to you and Chrisanne - I miss you both.

Hoagy carmichael in "To Have and Have Not"

As I mentioned, I've been making my way through David Thomson's massive The New Biographical Dictionary of Film. I read a couple of entries a day. I've been making my way through alphabetically. Naturally, I take notes on the films he's mentioned that I have not seen. I have my work cut out for me.

His entry on Hoagy Carmichael brought tears to my eyes.

His presence in To Have and Have Not somehow MAKES that movie. Bacall and Bogie are GREAT, the whole situation sizzles with chemistry ... and in the middle of it all ... is Hoagy Carmichael. It wouldn't be the same movie without him.

But listen to how David Thomson talks about it. David Thomson chose the photo below to be on the cover of his book. This entry explains why.

Hoagy Carmichael
(1899-1981) b. Bloomington, Indiana

He sits at a piano that manages to be set aslant everything else in the world. He has white pants (they might be cream or ivory) with a dark stripe in them, and it could be crimson or dark blue against the cream (this is Martinique light). And in the shirt there is the same pattern of vertical dark striping on a pale ground, except that the stripes are twice as regular. He has a tie too, a rather floppy, silly thing, with big diamond patterns on it. And I'll be damned if he hasn't got a decorated band above his right elbow, of the kind card players or saloon pianists sometimes wear to keep their hands free.

He is called Cricket, and he has the sharpest face in the whole sharp film. And more or less we are at the heart of the whole matter, in a place where perfection and the absurd slide together in a way that is unbearably cool. This is 1944, at Warner Bros., To Have and Have Not -- even the title knows what is happening, and appreciates that this is the mystery of cinema, the dream itself.

I don't know, but I suspect that Hoagland Carmichael dressed himself for the occasion, checking every now and then with the Howard Hawks he revered as both friend and style master. For Hawks was a dandy, and I suspect that both men could wax lyrical together as connoisseurs on what a hip piano player reckoned to look like in the 1920s if he had done Indiana U. (law) first and was knocking around with Bix and Trumbauer, and Eddie Condon was due in tonight.

That was how Carmichael had put his life in order, dropping the law for "Star Dust", which he wrote in 1927. And he had had songs in movies aplenty in the thirties, like Crosby doing "Moonburn" in Anything Goes (1936, Lewis Milestone). And somehow Hoagland had got to be acquainted with Slim and Howard Hawks and Howard had asked him to hang around the To Have and Have Not set and be atmospheric.

And it worked out that the new girl, Bacall, had this little song to sing, so why shouldn't it be something Cricket was working up? It won't be hard work, said Howard, you can do the whole thing sitting down. And if maybe Hoagland said, "Howard, I haven't been on camera before," Hawks could have said, "It doesn't show. You can do this stuff yourself, if you try."

So Carmichael and Bacall play around with "How Little We Know", and the whole film is this strange new tango Bogart and Bacall do, with three guys -- Marcel Dalio, Walter Brennan, and Carmichael -- riding point. And you realize the weird luck that could fall on an Ernest Hemingway having such magic fall on his not-the-worst-book-in-the-world novel.

The story goes that whenever Carmichael was working, William Faulkner came to the set to watch. To be so lucky.

Sure, Hoagy Carmichael is there again and very good in The Best Years of Our Lives (46, William Wyler), in Night Song (47, John Cromwell), and in Young Man With a Horn (50, Michael Curtiz). And he has his songs in and out of pictures -- he shared an Oscar for "In the Cool, Cool, Cool of the Evening" in Here Comes the Groom (51, Frank Capra). But the rest was relatively normal, and sensible, and what you might expect. Whereas Cricket was out of nowhere. Nowhere except the best and kindest mind that ever made an American picture. If you could get the clothes halfway decent.

MAY 1ST: Self-promotion, part deux

Come one, come all! It's gonna be a really fun night.

By Popular Demand . . . an Encore Performance – One Night Only!

Monday, May 1, 2006 – 7:30 PM
Theatre Three – 311 W. 43rd Street, 3rd Floor
Stand Up For Phoenix
With Sheila O'Malley & Jason O'Connell

• 50 ways to lose your lover?
• 101 great ideas to spice up your sex life?
• 21 things you should do to keep your man?
No, just 74 Facts and One Lie , a one-woman show written and performed by Sheila O'Malley. Actress/Writer Sheila O'Malley (Clairvoyant in Broken Journey) gives you the facts (and one blatant lie) about one girl's fantasy love affair gone horribly right or perfectly wrong. O'Malley has performed 74 Facts and One Lie at the 42nd Street Workshop, the Irish Arts Center, and other Manhattan venues .

Jason O'Connell ( Franz the Guard, The Chief Clerk, The Trial and Calne, Wolfpit ) has headlined at Carolines on Broadway, along with being a regular at Gotham and other New York Comedy clubs.

CLICK HERE TO BUY TICKETS

All advance Tickets $19 | $25 (cash at door)
or call 212-352-3101

Laugh, Enjoy, Have Fun and Support Phoenix Theatre Ensemble!!

The Books: "The Book of Abigail and John"

And here is my next excerpt of the day from my library.

Next book in my American history section is the massive The Book of Abigail and John: Selected Letters of the Adams Family, 1762-1784 .

My grandmother (dad's mother) used to say that my grandfather was cheating on her. With Abigail Adams.

I grew up in that kind of environment as well. It was all about John Adams. Maybe it was something to do with the fact that my parents grew up around Boston ... so Adams was everywhere. Maybe it was something to do with the fact that my uncle lives in Quincy - so every time we went there for Thanksgiving we drove by the Adams family house. Or maybe it was because 1776 was a HUGE musical in our house. I don't know what it is - I just remember being aware of John and Abigail Adams from a very very young age. I feel like there was never not a time when I did not know about them. Same with George Washington, too. I don't remember the moment when I learned about Washington although there had to have been a first time I heard his name. He was just always there. The other founding fathers came later. I learned about them in the normal way, in classes at school, and during the Bicentennial Blitzkrieg which took over the entire nation during my childhood. It was all American History all the time.

My parents were both so into John and Abigail Adams that it rubbed off on me - and also - I saw a production of 1776 during (of course) that Bicentennial year which comPLETELY turned me on. I was the same girl then that I am now. Only I was 4 feet tall, with bug bites on my legs, and funny glasses that looked too big for my face. So I read the collected letters of John and Abigail - I think I took it out from the library.

Since that time - I've read this book countless times. I don't know - I probably read it once every other year, if I had to guess. It's also something I dip into, for inspiration, all the time. I should put together a daily calendar of quotes from those letters. They are just so so so extraordinary. I never quite get over the fact that we are so BLESSED to have such letters in our public record!!

So what to choose, what to choose.

I decided to go with one of Abigail's letters. And I decided to go with a really personal one. Because the volume is so rich - and because they were apart for the majority of their marriage - they discussed everything in their letters. Abigail ran the farm for the years he was gone. She was quite an astute manager and businesswoman - he might have been totally ruined when it came time for him to retire - if he hadn't had Abigail. So there are letters about seed and planting crops and animals and hired hands. There are AMAZING letters during 1775 - 1776 - I mean, you just read them in awe - the sense of urgency, and mission, and uplift, and fear ...

Then came the long long years when Adams was away in France and the Netherlands ... and it took weeks for letters to arrive - They continued to just write, regardless of lack of response ... Sometimes letters were lost at sea. Sometimes letters were intercepted.

The two of them never really got accustomed to the whole being-apart thing - although they were two strong people, and they managed. But their letters are filled with yearning. Or sometimes the whole letter will be businesslike, filled with surface updates about events ... and then the last paragraph will suddenly open wide, showing the loneliness, the aching for the other ...

They are so so romantic. "My dearest Friend ..."

So I decided to go with one of Abigail's sadder letters, when she let her loneliness be expressed. Both of them were strong people, they bore up well ... but they were intimate with one another. These were letters from one soul to another. You can sense that.

This letter always just tears at my heart. It's become quite famous now - one of her more well-known letters ... but in the moment she wrote it she could have no way of knowing that. She just was missing her "dearest friend".

It's from 1778. Oh, and "Portia" was what Adams called her - it dated from their courtship when they would write these steamy letters to each other, using the names Portia and Lysander. Taking on fake names from the "olden days" freed them up from their more restricted present ... those early letters are awesome.

But the nicknames stuck.

From The Book of Abigail and John: Selected Letters of the Adams Family, 1762-1784 .

ABIGAIL TO JOHN

Sunday Evening December 27 1778

How lonely are my days? How solitary are my Nights? Secluded from all Society but my two Little Boys, and my domesticks, by the Mountains of snow which surround me I could almost fancy myself in Greenland. We have had four of the coldest Days I ever knew, and they were followed by the severest snow storm I ever remember, the wind blowing like a Hurricane for 15 or 20 hours renderd it impossible for Man or Beast to live abroad, and has blocked up the roads so that they are impassible.

A week ago I parted with my Daughter at the request of our P[lymout]h Friends to spend a month with them, so that I am solitary indeed.

Can the best of Friends recollect that for 14 years past, I have not spent a whole winter alone. Some part of the Dismal Season has heretofore been Mitigated and Softned by the Social converse and participation of the Friend of my youth.

How insupportable the Idea that 3000 leigues, and the vast ocean now devide us -- but devide only our persons for the Heart of my Friend is in the Bosom of his partner. More than half a score years has so rivetted it there, that the Fabrick which contains it must crumble into Dust, e'er the particles can be seperated.

"For in one fate, our Hearts our fortunes
And our Beings blend."

I cannot discribe to you How much I was affected the other day with a Scotch song which was sung to me by a young Lady in order to divert a Melancholy hour, but it had quite a different Effect, and the Native Simplicity of it, had all the power of a well wrought Tragidy. When I could conquer my Sensibility I beg'd the song, and Master Charles has learnt it and consoles his Mamms by singing it to her. I will enclose it to you. It has Beauties in it to me, which an indifferent person would not feel perhaps --

His very foot has Musick in't,
As he comes up the stairs.

How oft has my Heart danced to the sound of that Musick?

And shall I see his face again?
And shall I hear him speak?

Gracious Heaven hear and answer my daily petition, "by banishing all my Grief."

I am sometimes quite discouraged from writing. So many vessels are taken, that there is Little chance of a Letters reaching your Hands. That I meet with so few returns is a circumstance that lies heavy on my Heart. If this finds its way to you, it will go by the Alliance. By her I have wrote before, she has not yet saild, and I love to amuse myself with my pen, and pour out some of the tender sentiments of a Heart over flowing with affection, not for the Eye of a cruel Enemy who no doubt would ridicule every Humane and Social Sentiment long ago grown Callous to the finer sensibilities -- but for the sympathetick Heart that beats in unison with

Portia

And then there are moments ...

rare moments .. when it still strikes me as ... miraculous ... that I was able to go on, and not just go on but to create something out of that mess. To write it down - but not just in a diary, or private scribbling - but in a way that made it almost immediately apparent that it needed to be shared.

And so I have.

And so the specific has become universal. People respond to that piece from out of their own lives. It's about my life. I wrote it. But people have very personal responses to it ... it brings up their own memories, thoughts, feelings ... That's not WHY I wrote it, but that's what has happened. And I created that. I'm still kind of ... amazed. Like ... I don't know, it's my life - most of you out there don't know me - I can only speak from what it's like inside my head, and ... there were times when I thought I would literally never ... Well. I still don't think about it too much - it's really not good to dwell on it. But ... that I have taken that experience - so searingly vivid, an experience that pretty much burned me up like a torch - something that I was sad about for YEARS - and turned it INTO something ... into art ... is truly amazing. To me. This is not something I take for granted. I'm not bragging, either. I am just kind of proud, and humble ... and still ... rather surprised that I have been able to do such a thing.

I didn't set out to do this, when I wrote that thing in one sitting at 3 am one awful white night of the soul. I set out to explain myself to myself and to put myself in order and to try to find some goddamn peace. I found the FACTS to be peaceful. I needed peace. I was in agony. So no - I didn't sit down, thinking: "Hm. I should create a show out of this horrible experience! Let me MAKE IT INTO SOMETHING." But here I am ... performing the damn thing. Left and right. Willy nilly. Arms akimbo. No, just kidding. I just like the word "akimbo".

He (the guy it's about) is the first one who read the piece. People who don't know me personally (but who have seen me do the piece, or who have read it) are surprised when I've told them that. I can see why if all you know about it is the piece itself, you'd be surprised. That there would be any contact and that he could actually READ THAT!! Like, literally: people's jaws have dropped when I have said casually, "Yeah, he was actually the first one I sent it too." People gape at me. "What did he say???"

Their context is limited. They know what I tell them. Which is just the piece itself. Which is purposefully ambiguous. What I leave out just SCREAMS at you. hahahaha I know that. It was hard to choose what to leave out - but I knew it needed to be really bare-bones. Anyway - there is a sweetness to people's (strangers who have seen the piece) concern for me ... and also the discombobbled looks on their faces when they hear that "he" has read it. hahaha

I know the piece ends on a sad note - and he has his own sad note - but the rest of the piece is so FUNNY and I wanted it to be such an acknoweldgement of him and how funny he is, and how lovable I find him - that I figured: You know what? This'll be weird. But I want him to read it. I don't feel right about sending this out to magazines and performing it if he hasn't read it. It's just not my game. That's not what this is about for me. 74 Facts is not about blame or anger or bitterness. When the tide rolls back, leaving a space of calm in its wake ... all that is left is love. Well, maybe a couple twinges of regret and sadness. But mainly: it's about love. And if someone I loved wrote a piece like that about me I know I'd sure as hell want to read it.

So I sent it to him. With a sort of cringingly gentle note: "Uhm ... I wrote this about you ... don't be scared ... it's not bad ... It's actually really funny ... uhm ... til the end ... but you know the end ... "

hahaha Something along those lines. I mean, I didn't want him to think I had written a piece with his NAME as the title - Like: SO AND SO, AND WHY HE'S AN ASSWIPE. I mean, no. I could see why that would be a fear, though - so I just cringingly wrote a letter and sent it off.

Five days later my phone rings. It is one o'clock in the morning. We never speak. We never call each other. I don't even know his number. I pick up the phone and I hear GUFFAWS of laughter. He is driving. It is late at night. And he is GUFFAWING. "I read it ... hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha The midgets! Oh my God ... the fucking Titanic thing ... hahahahahahahahaha"

And then we spent the rest of the conversation just laughing about all of our goofy moments. I know it's hard to believe, but that's what happened.

He didn't IGNORE the ending. We spoke about that a little bit ... but for the main conversation, we just reminisced and howled with laughter about all of the silly memories I had brought up. The lack of midgets in the world "these days", his anger at backwards baseball caps, the Riverdance mania ... He was crying with laughter.

I couldn't sleep that night I was so exhilarated. I felt as though I were weightless. The love was intense. But it was without pain now. Because it was expressed - and we could SHARE it. We could laugh and laugh and laugh at what goofballs we had been, and how funny those old times were ... and I didn't hang up the phone and curl up into an agonized ball of regret. I hung up the phone, still laughing.

This astonishes me to this day.

I became my own healer. That's what happened. And it was through art, sure - it was through getting the shattered pieces in order so that I could write it all DOWN ... but it was also through sharing it. With him, and with everybody.

I've never known anything like it.

One of my great acting teachers had a really cool thing to say about "sublimation" that I've never forgotten. His name was Doug Moston [actually, side note: that's a pretty cool link - he died recently and his students somehow found that post and started posting their memories of him - I finally had to close the post because of F*&%ING SPAMMERS ... but still - it became a kind of gathering-place for people who missed him - I got a ton of email, it was just really really cool - SO glad I wrote that piece]

Anyway, he said that he thought "sublimation" was very under-rated. He was a big fan of it. Now this so goes against the grain of our "talk it out" culture - that everything should be talked about, nothing should be sublimated, sublimation is BAD ... it equals: repression.

So I was very curious as to his thoughts on this. He said, "Here's what I mean by sublimation. You take your pain - and you make it sublime."

I'm not sitting here and telling you my work is sublime. I certainly FEEL sublime when I'm doing the piece - it's an intensely joyful experience to do it - but that's not the same thing. Moston was hinting at something much much deeper, I think. The true meaning of the word "sublime".

I don't even want to name it. It should remain mysterious.

I will say this ... it has something to do with the fact that when "he" called me after reading it - a piece that basically explains his broken heart and mine - he was literally howling with laughter over the phone. What??? And it has something to do with the fact that we both just laughed our way through that conversation - going line by line through my piece ... reminiscing, snorting with laughter, guffawing, interrupting each other, gushing, moving on ... We had never spoken about ANY of that stuff. Everything had ended so sadly. But there I was - handing him back all of his COMEDY to him on a plate. It has something to do with that. It surprises people who only know the story as I told it in that piece. But this happened also. It is sublime.

It's love, really. Love without needs or demands. It sucks, on some level, of course. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

Every time I do the piece it's just another opportunity to express that guffawing laughter over the phone, to share that bright comical spirit with others. The last time I did it, a small hunched-over man who had to be almost 80 came up to me afterwards. He had a hearing aid in, he walked with a cane, and he had big bushy eyebrows. He touched my arm and said, in a thick New York accent, "I feel like I want to know that guy!" Tears filled my eyes as I thanked him.

My specifics. Become universal. How on earth has that happened?

Ahhhh. And that is why I do this. That is why I do this.

I was writhing in psychic agony as I wrote that piece. That's not an exaggeration. I was writhing at my desk. The fact that the piece came out so funny is just another example of ... the terrible complex beauty of sublimation.

I don't know how to end this. I just know I've been wanting to talk about that piece. I hesitate to say too much, for many reasons.

I guess I'm just proud of it. Proud of my creation and what I'm doing with it.

Book meme ... hard work ... sheila tired ...

Feck. My brain just shorted out trying to keep all of this straight.

I got it from Mental Multivitamin - and let me echo her title choice. Yeah, me too.

[This was a very amusing exercise, actually - mainly because I own so many books - and yet I appear to have them all catalogued perfectly in my head. I know exactly which ones I have read and owned, and which ones I have read and yet do NOT own. I didn't even have to it for more than half a second.]

Here's the meme:

Review the following list of books. Boldface the books you've read, italicize those you might read, cross out the ones you won’t, put an asterisk beside the ones on your bookshelves, and place brackets around the ones you’ve never even heard of.

The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
*The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
*The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
*The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald)
*To Kill a Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
*The Time Traveler’s Wife (Audrey Niffenegger)
His Dark Materials (Philip Pullman) - it feels weird to just say flat out I won't read something, but whatever. I won't read it.
*Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (J. K. Rowling)
*The Life of Pi (Yann Martel) - haven't read it yet but I own it - Jean gave it to me for Christmas, and it's on "the list" - I'm almost ready to start it
*Animal Farm: A Fairy Story (George Orwell)
*Catch 22 (Joseph Heller)
*The Hobbit (J.R.R. Tolkien)
[The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time (Mark Haddon)]
*Lord of the Flies (William Golding)
* Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
*1984 (George Orwell)
*Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (J. K. Rowling)
One Hundred Years of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
*Slaughterhouse Five (Kurt Vonnegut)
The Secret History (Donna Tartt) - I have picked it up 1000 times at the book store, and thought: Hmm, should I get it? I read the back cover, flip thru ... and I never ever choose it. This tells me that I will never read this book. I'm okay with that.
*Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
* The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (C.S. Lewis)
Middlesex (Jeffrey Eugenides)
Cloud Atlas (David Mitchell)
*Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
*Atonement (Ian McEwan)
[The Shadow of the Wind (Carlos Ruiz Zafon)]
*The Old Man and the Sea (Ernest Hemingway)
*The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood)
*The Bell Jar (Sylvia Plath)
Dune (Frank Herbert)
Sula (Toni Morrison) Argh - I like Toni Morrison but I don't want to read this one
Cold Mountain (Charles Frazier)
The Alchemist (Paulo Coehlo)
White Teeth (Zadie Smith)
*The House of Mirth (Edith Wharton)

10-minute Oscars

Part 3 ... by Alex.

Posts like this THRILL me. I want to do my own but just don't have the time right now.

I love that Drew Barrymore is on there ... I couldn't agree more. But still: I love to read Alex's words on all of these different small moments of acting that she has chosen - moments which transcend, and become not just good - but great. Unforgettable.

Introducing: Kung Food Guy!

My nephew Cashel is 8 years old. Cashel just made his first movie. It is called Kung Food Guy.

I have watched it 500 times since I first received it.

It's one of the best movies I've ever seen, I think. Oh, and he gave me permission to put it up here. I asked first.

Introducing: Kung Food Guy!

I have many many comments about my favorite moments (I have two in particular that I'd like to talk about) but I'll leave those for later.

Self-promotion: Part 2

Mark your calendars, New Yorkers!

Here are all the details for my upcoming gig next Monday, May 1st. Please come out - Jas