I’m so low tec, it’s very inconvenient, but I couldn’t help myself, I started a “Community” page in Facebook called Global Support For Standing Rock. Right this minute, I’m sure the fate of Standing Rock, North Dakota is connected to the fate of my granddaughter in Norway where drinking water is still good. I’m digging up all the information I can from my apartment in Barcelona. I’m updating daily, sometimes on a totally OCD track. I need to keep track of water. I love water. I have lived without water. I know what it means to save every drop of water. If I could, I would buy a thousand bottles of Figi. Hey, there’s a good deal on at Amazon! Don’t miss it! Twenty-four 16.9 ounce bottles of Figi for only $34.50!
My friend Naomi Wedman playing with Peter Loveday
How does she make those hair-do buns?
How does she pluck those strings and make it look fun?
This gal’s from Canada’s boondocks,
but she plays that violin
she bends that bow
high and low
and let me tell you,
was waiting for me…
…while I checked out the view
from the balcony!
It’s not every day I’m in the presence of Caspar. When I am, I don’t skip a beat. I can’t!
His wit! His information! His jokes! Our ping-pong-cinema-trivia game!
It’s all too fast for me. I don’t even try to write it down. What? Take notes during a conversation with Caspar? Impossible! I don’t want to miss a word! I’m all ears and eyes, what will he say next? What will he write? Horror, comedy, religion, death? Will it be scary and bloody too?
Caspar The Aristocrat!
Shakespeare’s Good Man!
I don’t usually listen to rock. In fact, I love silence, but you never know when lightning will strike. It struck me last night lying on my couch. So I put the headphones in, far in, and went down a hard rocker’s road. It wasn’t hard at all. It was like I always knew this voice, this guy from Boston, my alma mater, my alma, this unbedded fellow beast, this soul mate of words, this Joe Cocker creature, his gray streaks and chiseled face, this reinvented rebel with cause for fame, this father, this son, this singer, this man, this twin at heart. I guess you could sum it all up and say I love his voice. But it’s more than that. Steven Tyler is my coach. My mentor. My guide. He’s a total inspiration for an old fart grandmother. Here I am, about to look at 32 years of my life, starting with my daughter’s bedroom. I will start with her closet. She is never coming back to use this closet. She has her own closet in Oslo but she still has all these clothes on hangers, shoes stuffed into bags, bags of stuff on the closet floor, all kinds of gauzy skirts that she made or collected, stuff hanging out of duffle bags, paper bags, bags and bags and bags of her life. I really don’t want to go in there, so I don’t. I look out at the plum tree. Look! The blackbird is back! Can that bird hear the water I splashed into the dish this morning? Can the bird smell that I’ve returned from the north? Something is up! What’s up is that I am now living in the pre-new-now. The new now is what I’m trying to get my mind around. That’s why I’m fascinated by Steven Tyler. That’s why I’m starting with my daughter’s bedroom. The combination of Steven Tyler’s voice screaming at me to get my mind around the fact that something is up and the act of cleaning out my daughter’s closet is no coincidence.It’s lightning striking twice. It’s reality. I was lying on my couch trying to unwind and Steven Tyler wound me up.He’s still winding me up. I need this guy to scream at me louder and louder and louder, dream on, dream on, dream on… and finally, as if he were an axe — he makes a dent. Right, I don’t want to miss a thing either. Two outstanding tee-shirts have walked by me recently. First, Now Or Never. Then, Get Over It. How does anyone know what will happen? Freud says: “You know everything.” But, I, for one, need a dent to realize what I already know. I’m about to stare 32 years of my life in the face. At least today I get it. The past is done. Get over it. The new-now is promising. It’s true what Freud said. I know everything. Deep deep down, if I really think about it, I always knew this would happen. I always dreamed it. It’s all good. I’ll start with the closet.
Thanks to the acupuncture expertise of Dr. Guix
I have a good, strong ankle, ready to trod upon Norwegian soil.
Ready to occupy Mormor detail and help my daughter at beck and call.
To hold the precious bundle of joy that is Milla, my granddaughter!
Third generation, full of mother’s milk, a mix of many miracles
and Stardust genes.
We are Stardust daughters!
Borrowed cells of Time and Space —
Here’s my prayer to the Vueling Gods:
Let me fly!
Let me land!
Let me greet my family!
Since I’m on Experiment 3, The Alby Einstein Principle, in the E-Squared book, and it’s all about how my thoughts create my energy and attract like energy to me and whatever I create, I had this thought: I’ll project my shepherd out into the world and direct his energy to the bigger field of energy, namely The Page International Screenwriter’s Awards Competition. By doing this, according to the laws of physics, I can affect the big energy field and draw the energy back to me, or, more importantly, to my story, the screenplay, The Blue Shepherd. The judges will be announcing the quarter-finalists this Friday July 15, and even though the odds in my category, Family Film, are over 500 to 1, well…somebody has to win, so why not my shepherd!
Can you find my blackbird? I think it’s a she but her mate comes too. They love water! And I clean their birdbath often, so they thank me by singing and letting me watch them shake their tailfeathers and go into ecstasy. It’s 100° in the shade today! Now that ceramic dish they splash in would be called ‘The Ceramic Dish Miracle’ by Pam Grout, the author of Esquared, a book my friend Caspar sent me about plugging into something called The Field of Potential which happens to be something I already believe in, so I’m doing Experiment One and the deadline for this first principle to present itself is in exactly six minutes. I had 2 signs so far and I’m waiting for the third. The Ceramic Dish Miracle happened one day when I realized that what I wanted was to find a beautiful ceramic dish that would fit into that plant stand so I could have a birdbath and see if any birds would come. When I went down to the street that day, There It Was. In the street. Sitting on the curb next to the trash container. I swear this is true. I took it upstairs. It fit perfectly on the stand. Do I have a birdie over my shoulder?
The New Healing List
Goal: To Walk Without Pain
Eat Blue Fish
Clean Plate Clean Slate
Eat Fresh Green Coriander, Turmeric, Carrots, Red Fruit, Papaya
Enjoy The Day At Home
Write The Sequel to Maggie Scratch
Smell the Flowers
Take the Pressure Off
Take the Pressure off Your Foot
Enjoy the Simple Things
Cook a Rice Pulaou
Do Rehab Exercises
Talk To Your Foot
Take It Easy
Never Take Walking or Talking or Hearing or Seeing or Smelling or Tasting or Feeling
These came in the mail (recommended by Eva the Osteopath) and were waiting for me when I got home from the beach. My computer was dying when I was trying to buy them online.
This is where I was from 9 am to 11 am before the maddening crowd got settled in and obstructed my ankle rehab path. That’s another thing I really trust about Eva, she’s totally homeopathic. “Walk in wet sand,” she told me, “That’s the best therapy.” Could rehab possibly be any sweeter? It took me a while to find the perfect wet sand, but when I found it, I traipsed in it until the tide came up and washed it away.
This was my goal, the MF rock. I made it! There was a pervert guarding his towel, but he stood politely aside so I could document my morning’s work.
My computer’s still alive, amazing, a miracle, bye bye… adios!
Not sure how long my computer’s going to last so I want to make this fast. It fades in and out and I’m told it’s the Motherboard and the Graphic Card, but whatever it is, it gives me indigestion. It fades out slowly just when I’m about to pay for a new computer online. It goes whiter and whiter and I talk to it, I pray to it, it’s God. I ask the Computer-God to let me just fill in all the information and pay, then I promise, I swear, I’ll walk away from it and let it die. I tell the Computer-God that I understand, it can only take so much, it’s been 6 years of downloading and uploading and Motherloading and overloading and I’m grateful, I really am, but none of this praying works. When my wallet got ripped off I realized my driver’s license was in it. So more prayers to the Computer-God. I’m in the online process of filling out forms, I’ve got to print the form now and my screen is going whiter and whiter. Just as I’m about to get a date for an online appointment, it dies again. The Jefatura de Trafico! I’m almost there! No page! Nothing! Blank! This almost gives me a stroke. I flip the lid up and down a few times and it revives, but for how long? I need to be fast, always. There’s my ankle’s online MRI. Now, this is very important to print. I do a pretty neat prayer to the Computer-God, I’m almost on my knees begging it to just hang in there ONE MORE TIME, because this medical report is no joke. And I do finally get it printed. I think about what it would be like to be old and alone and not have any access to all this one-way-to-do-it-now- online -bureaucracy. I swear I’m going to help all those old people one day. After living with a dying computer, not only do I learn how to unplug, I start sympathizing with those who have no plug at all.