Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Rainy and cooler
Day 10 of Home Om on Kemmyrk.
And an Object Exercise on The Scruffy Dog Review Blog.
Getting from Grand Central station up nine blocks and over five blocks nearly killed me yesterday, due to the heat. I kept ducking into stores and drank an entire bottle of water on my way there. I was exhausted before the working day even started.
Fortunately, the trains ran, although they were late, the ticket office was closed, and they changed tracks on us. But the air was on and they ran, which is more than they usually do in extreme temperatures.
Day work was fine.
I went to Vinyl diner (let’s see, in how many of my books do they appear in the acknowledgements at this point?) for dinner, and wrote two pages of Jioleagh. I’d written only two pages of Real before I had to leave, but I’m happy with them, so I’m not going to whine.
Show was fine – first time working with this principal, but I like her.
Everything hurts – I did some yoga stretches this morning, but will have to do one or two long sessions tomorrow, so I don’t get all twisted up.
We had a cloudburst as soon as the show was out (of course). Because of the wind, the rain fell horizontally as well as vertically. I was soaked to the skin by the time I got back to the station, then had to sit in an air-conditioned train for over an hour before I got home and peeled off the wet clothes. It took me awhile to dry off and warm up again.
The cats woke me a bit after 5, and it didn’t seem worth it to try to go back to sleep, in spite of the fact I probably won’t be home until 2 AM tomorrow. I’m going to try to get some writing done.
My friend A. and I are going to dinner at my (and now our) favorite French place between shows. I’m looking forward to it.
And I’m looking forward to being home tomorrow and getting some work done – I have to rough out three articles.
The Islanders fired their new GM, Neil Smith (who used to work for the Rangers when I was a teenager, and whom I adore) and hired, as GM, the back-up goalie, Garth Snow. Interesting choice. There’s lots of yapping and mewling and disbelief in the media, but I’m serious when I say it’s an interesting choice. If he’d been in his forties or fifties, long-retired, no one would have said boo. But, because he’s relatively young and played last year (and probably expected to play this year), there’s a furor. I like and respect Snow. It’s an unconventional choice, but that doesn’t mean it can’t work. For his sake, I hope it does.
I rarely mention celebrity gossip, because, frankly, I just don’t care, but I have to say something about the Christie Brinkley-Peter Cook split. Although he was definitely a predator and his adultery was inappropriate on oh, so many levels, the little 19 year old is no naïve victim. She saw a meal ticket and a way to advance her “singing” career and she went for it. By the time you’re 19, you know whether or not it’s right to have an affair with a married man. For her to accept the huge amounts of cash and a new car from her lover and NOW say it’s sexual harassment? That’s a slap in the face to all the women who actually face real sexual harassment. Chickie wanted cash, and she found someone who couldn’t keep his pants zipped and who was having a midlife crisis to give it to her. Especially out in the Hamptons, that’s the way the game is played. It reminds me of the Houston socialite who told her friend in the ladies’ room that the best gift she could give her teenaged daughter was to make sure she knew how to give good head, so she’d never have to get a job. I’m sure this is the same sort of deal. There’s no victim involved – merely two predators. Actually, there are victims – the wife and kids. But not the two consenting predators who created the relationship.
Real – 77,500 words out of 100,000
77 / 100
Jioleagh - 1, 125 words out of est. 85,000
1 / 85