A gala night yesterday. You can tell that Dolores, Miss Party despite her monniker, is back. We hosted a birthday party, live jam and dance workshop. The Singer gave contra dance lessons. The Birthday Girl gave hula lessons, and Dolores and I followed as best we might (not my specialty). Ukulele and guitars were played, CDs were copied, most of the leftovers consumed. I'm sure my neighbors were happy when the party broke up at 2:30 ayem.
The dance of the permitting process continues as well. The latest:
Dear SepticMaestro: Any movement? Your friend, Claudia
I sent the application and plan into DEM on Weds. I'm sure we'll be getting
some crazy comments back in a couple of weeks or so. Keep your fingers crossed. Bye, SepticMaestro
Crossing my fingers and my legs, C
I don't think DEM would understand or appreciate that type of sacrifice. SM
And the Architect:
Architect: Any news? C
C: SepticMaestro left a message, looking for my mail address; left it on his vm. Yes you did send me form for buildings official; will complete when I receive revised site plan from SM. I'll take photos too, unless you already have them. Let me know on that. Are you in China? Architect
A: I do have photos. I don't think I can go to China til this CRMC application is in. Fuck me. C
This process will drive you crazy, so sit back and enjoy the ride, cuz nobody can make it go faster than it goes. Been dealing with the Fire Marshall.....I'll take CRMC and DEM over him anytime! Architect
fair warning: on block island or manhattan or in missouri, we can be a little salty
2 comments:
There are moments in life, as they unfold, that you realize magic is happening. Lsat night was one of them. A semi-retired writer, a disgruntled journalist, a subway singer and a radio producer documenting her 39th birthday came together and created...magic. It was as if the intensity of the past year - leaving jobs, leaving relationships, dealing with financial struggles - just poured into the room. There was the music, the dance, the talk. The memories will be etched in my mind forever: The Singer blowing smoke rings while taking a break from strumming sweet notes from her guitar; my sorry attempt at contra dancing; Ms. Surf City and Mrs. Flintstone's lovely hand gestures as they danced hula to Tiny Bubbles. Yes, that's correct: Tiny Bubbles.
There was wonderful food - Ms. Surf City's homemade turkey soup, which initially was supposed to be split pea. Cheeses and dips and beer and wine.
And then there was the talk and the talk and the talk. When did the world get so corrupt and nasty and mean? Why don't people realize they're being duped by a government that's taken them for a ride? When will people wake up?
The Singer gave us a sample of a rare political song she was working on: it was powerful. We spoke of politics, sexuality, dreams, and life. We topped the evening, an eight-hour event, by listening to the great French singer Edith Piaf whose voice, with all of its passion, vulnerability, sorrow, and hope, pretty much captured it all.
We really experienced life....
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