Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Rise and shrine.

I have dreams where my dad isn't really dead.

The latest one involved my mom telling me he was being held, alive, at a "3rd party hospital."


"I can't tell you that right now, Holly.  It's a Shriner's hospital.  You have to sign this first."

She hands me legal paperwork; I flip to the back page and my mom & sister have already signed it.  My sister says something to me, I tell her to Shut Up.

We're all sitting on my dad's empty, tousled hospice bed.

"WHY," I say.

My mom hands me a glossy brochure, a photo collage of a beautiful, rustic, cabin setting--the kind that do-it-yourself brides get married in.  Dad and Mom, looking younger and healthier, are holding hands and hiking in one of the photos.


"January 10th," Mom said.  "Your father wants this to be the place where it happens.  So when it's time, we'll all go there."


I get the feeling she doesn't want me to know, or to go on my own.  That if I go, he'll wake up--& all these best laid plans will be off.

"Just sign the papers."

[I wake up, thinking about how I'm going to a Shriner's hospital in Arizona or wherever the f*ck to see him; I think about the long day ahead.  But he's alive.  Which means that even if he's unconscious when I get there, he could wake up.  I'm convinced this will happen.  I wonder what I'll say, what music I'll play, to get him to wake up.  And then I remember the ashes.

I guess if my dad can fit into a box the size of my coffee maker, he's really gone?.]

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Monday, October 13, 2014


I am back from NY & these were the highlights.  Caution: CAPS AHEAD.

Winning a box of ziti on the Sopranos bus tour.
I won this ziti BECAUSE I AM A WINNER.  I also met Vito, who was kind but brusque and complained about the NY traffic.  But back to me and winning the ziti.  The tour guide went: "Who said, 'So no fucking ziti now?'"  IT WAS ANTHONY JUNIOR AND HE SAID IT IN THE PILOT EPISODE AND I AM A WINNER GIVE ME MY ZITI.  And then we went to the Bada Bing (Satin Dolls) and the strippers were there and the music was horrible.  WHY DON'T STRIP CLUBS PLAY TOM WAITS.

The Arabic exhibit at the New Museum.
This was amazing and moving; I went here before going to the 911 museum which btw was TOO MUCH EMOTION FOR ONE DAY.

Chick Corea's percussionist (Luisito Quintero) at Blue Note.
I learned so much.  He percussed with a PLASTIC TUBE.  I was in the heavens.  The heavens sounded like a PLASTIC TUBE.

The "I Hear Banjos" cocktail at Wayland.
It came with a head of CAMPFIRE SMOKE, WHUT.

Ukrainian food at Veselka.
I impressed the cooks b/c I CAN PUT IT AWAY.  I had the MEAT PLATE and ATE ALL OF THE MEATS.

The Bird Man, Washington Square Park.
He (on the right) gave me birdseed so they would come to me too.  They shit on me.  BUT IT'S GOOD LUCK, HI.  They were standing on my head, my shoulders, my hands, my camera, my lap.  I loved it.  It reminded me of one of my favorite pictures of my dad, where he's feeding pigeons in his hands, in Hawaii.  And he's looking down at them with such love and giddiness that I CAN'T LOOK AT IT.

On Hello and Good Buck: beautiful TRASH.

Next week: a kidney adventure.

Friday, September 26, 2014

Leafing on a jet plane.

It's almost October, which means one thing: The frost is on the pumpkin my annual trip to NYC.

I'm staying for a week this time.  It's amazing how much money you can save if you're willing to share a bathroom with complete strangers.  Which I am.

(However, I will never again share a bathroom at the Jane Hotel.  Long row of sinks.  Me brushing my teeth.  German guy in his UNDIES walks in and starts brushing his teeth next to me.  Which is more INTIMACY than I had with my exes.  He was hot, but that is so not the point.)

Anyhoo.  These are the planned highlights of my trip:

Chick Corea.
Saturday night at the Blue Note.

Ravi Coltrane Quartet.
Friday night at the Village Vanguard.

Natural History Museum.
I've never been there & it's time to pay the dinosaurs (& blue whale) a visit.

Sopranos Bus Tour.  4 hours driving around beautiful New Jersey.  I paid for preferred seating, which means I get to sit in front, by the window.  SCORE.
Bonus: It's said that Vito might drop by!

Next week: trip report.

On Hello and Good Buck, means of communication.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Not going gentle.

I saved, permanently, my dad's voice messages today.

It was the hardest thing I've done since his funeral.

See, if I didn't save them, there was no need to save them.  There was the fantasy that there would be more of them.  That these were not so precious.

The loss of my father's voice is as difficult for me as the loss of my father.

Next week: ny prep.

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

A voice in the wilderness.

I have a dilemma.

I need to change to Verizon.  Because AT&T sucks.

But before I can do that, I have to back up my phone.

But before I can back up my phone, I need to permanently save my voice messages from Burt.
Which I haven't been able, emotionally, to do.  For almost 13 months.

Instead, I'm ordering in Italian (food) & drinking chardonnay & watching the Adriana episode of the Sopranos.  B/c it's easier.  In a way.

On Hello & Good Buck, the roller coaster.

Next week: Forget it Holly Jake, it's Chinatown.