I still exist---

More to come....

A Summer Wind-

Here is a beautiful Summer flower. I know this , because I googled, "Summer Flower" to capture a certain feeling I need right now. I would love to be standing in the space where this flower resides. But I am not. I need to be okay with that. And I am. I am okay with the fact that I am not standing near a wild flower in some stunning garden, possibly even near a beach. I am okay that, instead of paradise, I am seated in an uncomfortable chair in front of my computer, in Weehawken. It's okay though. I've got a big bubbly glass of ginger ale, with lime. A lot of ice. A few animals lazily graze around the room---and the Facebook window is up--not far away--So as not to miss anything.
The last time I wrote here, on this page, that sometimes goes unnoticed, I felt wildly depressed. Right now, I feel better, but still often worrisome about....well, everything I guess. The Summer days are slippin' away and I feel like I should be doing more. But----I'm just here trying to figure it out. Trying to be creative. Trying not to worry that I will forever be penniless. Trying not to worry that I won't ever be able to be a mom to more than animals. The usual things. For those of you out there who find yourself worrying. Well, I don't know. I could say stop. But it's tough. Do what you can to find ways to make yourself happy. I wish I could help ya, but I am just sitting here in Weehawken.
It's really quite nice. Next week, I will be scampering off to Martha's Vineyard for a much needed escape. I know, I say I am poor and then all of a sudden I'm at the Kennedy Compound. Well, I am traveling via the $1 bus to Boston. Check it. That way I can still afford a Mangotini when I step off the ferry----in White Linen. Hopefully, the travel will rejuvenate me and I can continue writing and trying to give something more of myself. Until then. xo

It's been a long time coming---

It's been awhile since I have made the invisible internet world aware of my existence. I have been on a journey. I won't really say it's one of those amazing, trip to Nepal- gotta figure it all out journey's either. It's more of---shall we say-----the shittiest journey I have ever been on my life. Because for the most part, my life has been good. Very good. But this past year---or even the past two years has been shit. I am not going to sugar coat anything. I don't care. I gotta put it all out there, just to get by. Seriously.
A couple of weeks ago I had my fifth miscarriage. I think with six, you get eggroll. I have been pregnant off and on, for two years. The entire first two years of my marriage have been spent getting pregnant and losing it over and over again. It is painful and scary and a very solitary time for me. I don't think people fully understand the impact it can have on a woman. It is heartbreaking. And like I always, say, I'm basically 40---time is passing me by like crazy. It's crazy----crack addicts have babies every second. Me? I have a fruit shake and the baby dies. Oh, I know it will all work out. People always say that---"You'll be a mom one day"----"at least it happened early"------ha--When somebody's parent dies, do ya say---"well, at least ya have another one"-----Ahhh, but they don't mean any harm. And it is a hard subject to talk about. But it's funny, I have no problem talking about it. As you can see, I have no problem, since I am blogging about it. But, society continues to whisper it like a disease. ** The lovely picture above was taken right before my recent d&c surgery. I tried to take it like a trooper---but man, it was hard.

So---I have been dealing with this crap along with the rest of life and all it's joy. My husband just got fired recently, which is great, because I haven't been working for a couple of months and there is nothing under our mattress except dust---well, there is actually no dust, because I have ocd and clean the house from top to bottom. Every day. We have four animals, who I make sure eat better than us. Not true, we actually have five animals, because my parents are on their own journey to depression and have been living in hotels since early December. Let it be known, these Hotels are not resorts in St. Maarten---they are like tiny ants of Hotels, barely even noticeable on any map. I miss my parents. I long for those easy times, sitting around drinking too much coffee, laughing and listening to their old albums. I barely see them now.
So--I sit here, drinking decaf--writing these words, in between Facebook check ins--hoping people still know I exist. I realize I need to write a book----and if I could let myself just do it instead of making up excuses, it could be half finished by now. But I worry, it won't be good--or where do I start---or who cares---So I begin on this blog--hoping things will just flow. There is no bullshit here. If you came looking for a note on Strawberries--I do apologize. I gotta just put down truthful words about my life right now. That is what is going on. That is what I am feeling.
Come again---xo

Life is just a bowl of cherries-

--And if I'm going to be poor, I want to look like this. The brooding Flapper. A cute pixie cut and an empty bank account. A flask instead of a gun to shoot myself because times are so tough. I don't want to go the local bar and try to sip other people's drinks because I don't have enough for my own. I wanna hit up the old Speak Easy on Charles St.-I wanna smoke 18 cigarettes and talk about books, while sipping gin, that was made in 'Cal's attic. I want a Jazz Band--I wanna sing. I wanna wear my slinky emerald green dress with tiny raindrop beads and I wanna sing! Some smokey tune about how some old drunk left me --headed west for a better life and left me behind--I wanna sing! and maybe some liar of a man in a tattered suit will slip me his business card. He'll tell me he's got a a little joint in the South of France where I can go sing all night in the bars on the beach and live for free. I'll be tan all day so it won't matter that I'm aging. I'll be the envy of all at this old Speakeasy. It will almost seem like I'm a somebody for a minute. I'll stay there all night singing, smoking, drinking and being the it girl of the daunting depression. Then I'll slink out in the early hours, squinting, because I've forgotten my glasses. I'll saunter on home, strappy heels in hand, feet calloused and torn. I'll sit on my little window seat covered with lace I stole from some dressmakers shop. I'll sip strong hungarian coffee and write another chapter on the Underwood. It won't matter that I'm poor. It won't matter at all.

Is it another year already?

Where did the time go? Where did I go? Well, I am still here-barely. Haven't written since September and in the chance that many of you think I may have passed away, like an old faded piece of torn scrap paper---I have only been away for awhile. (Mentally) I wish you all a Happy New Year. So much as happened since I last wrote I don't even know where to begin. Between, President Elect Obama and the fact that I have yet another furry creature living under my roof, it's enough to just be bursting with too much to report. So I will keep it brief. Here are some things I would like to work on this next year--

Do not adopt another animal. Even if a cute little Koala comes tap tapping on my door, with it's little suitcase and hat. Slam the door!

Try not to worry so much---about bullshit, like unwanted hair, wrinkles and money.

Spend more time writing. (even if it is the stupid blog, that nobody reads)

Have a kid already--

Thank you and Good Luck to all

I Love Old Things

I think I am obsessed with things that are old. I am always talking about how things used to be-- old times, old days, old New York. I'm getting old, could I be obsessed with myself as well? No, but I am becoming one of those people that is always telling you about how things used to be. Jesus, I'm not even 40, but I am pretty nostalgic. What the hell am I gonna be saying at 80? Just knock me over the head with a hammer then, please.
But lately, I have been a bit teary eyed about the demise of New York. Well, maybe I'm being dramatic, but there are sure some changes taking place that I am sure one day, we will barely be able to distinguish New York from any other mediocre city. Every few months, some other great piece of history dies. This week it was Yankee Stadium. Now, I don't want to hear all the droll about how the Yankees suck. Old Yankee Stadium is a piece of history and soon it will be demolished, like everything else. Sure, there will be a new one. It will be bigger, better, slick and fabulous. But I don't want that-I want old and haggard. Give me the grit of old New York. For god sakes, bust open a fire hydrant in the summer, so the kids can run through it. Paint some graffiti on a wall. Let some kids hang out on a stoop in the prime of their youth. Rent a room at the Plaza-oh sorry, there are no rooms left. What also has me on a tear this week is, I just heard about the new plan to kick everyone out of The Chelsea Hotel. Apparently it is being sold and they want to give all the artists and people who have lived there for 30 years and over, the boot. Of course they do. Oh but they are going capitalize on the fact that famous people have lived and died there, to get people to stay there for $500 a night. They'll probably make some fancy new pamphlet to give out to all these poor tourists that don't know what's what anyway. Meanwhile, why not just let the tourists know about the history as well as letting them know the artists still live there! Ugh-
Ok--let me settle down here. There will be more of old New York posts to come. Although, one question comes to mind whenever I spend my energy writing here----Does anyone read this anyway?

Time For New School Books

Yes--it's time--time for Fall----(well, almost) This is the time each year, when I decide to make a fresh start--get a new pair of boots, a new leather bound book, where I will begin my Austenesqe novel, written by gaslight. This is the time in the year where I wish I would have become a lawyer. Then I could put on my new cozy sweater, smart looking jeans and waltz right into that cute little entrance by the park, that leads to the nyu law dept. I could have been somebody---but instead I'm just a bum dreaming about the first day of school again.

I encourage you all to make this Fall different----

This could happen to anyone-

You always look at homeless people and wonder --how did it actually come to this. How did things get so bad, that there is no other option than this. Someone will always be able to help, right? But sometimes, there is nothing that can be done and years of mistakes and never saving for a rainy day can lead to this. I know a couple of people who are on the verge of this and I can't help them. I don't think it will come to this actual form of hell, but I see how quickly it can become a possibility. So, those people that once dined by the beaches of St. Maarten, had cozy dinners in warm apartments, with many laughs and deep conversations --who gave me anything and everything I wanted, could actually be two steps away from being homeless. God bless them. xo

Goodnight George

Another good one dies----Man, pretty soon, who's gonna be left? xo

It's the little things in life-

These are the things that make me smile-or touch my heart when I feel like giving up and crawling in a ditch-
Take this pig, for instance--little guy didn't want to walk through mud-but look at 'em go now in his little wellies---He's not scared-
Sometimes, ya gotta just get up, throw on your wellies and punch life right in the face-

I love this pig-

I Dig Old New York

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wNYeip0y-E

Big Weekend

Ahh, just me and my husband, Jasper out for a stroll-The city is beaming this weekend, and we, of course, can't even walk two feet, without having to stop for a photo.

Toodles-

Two steps away from being a lady of the night-

That's all I have to say

This is how I feel about my youth-

"Time it was and what a time it was it was, A time of innocence a time of confidences. Long ago it must be, I have a photograph Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you"

-Simon and Garfunkel

I'm Basically 40

-and I wish I looked as cute as this old French poster-but instead I'm home with toothpaste on my face.

Save the date---Come see my One woman show (a work in progress sorta) Friday May 16th -7pm 300 West 43rd St. at The Roy Arias Theatre $10----Come hear me blabber on about having miscarriages------- with a smile-Having no money--and being a married invisible woman-

Watching a documentary right now about French women in film---they are all gorgeous-Also, I realized, it doesn't matter what foreign actors say in films, they might even be a mediocre actor, but they seem amazing, because of the accents. Americans-you can read us like a book--if we suck-it's pretty damn obvious.

This week I am pissed off about ----American Idol-----You know what you've done-

I used to live here

This is Horatio St. I grew up on this block. I sold Lemonade on this block--yeah, for 25 cents. (No, it wasn't the forties) I walked to school from this block. I threw pomegranates out a window on this block. I carried a Christmas Tree home with my father on this block. I wore my first pair of high heels on this block. I listened to music blaring out of boom boxes on this block. I played with some of my best friends in the world on this block. This was my block. I can't afford to live on this block now. I can barely afford these cute shoes in this arsty picture-of this block. I can't afford to live in New York City. I will be moving to Rhode Island in the Fall. I would like to come back one day and raise my kids on this block. xo

Family I barely know---but should

This is my cousin, Jamie Rubin. This Rubin is doing alright--But I have not seen him since my Grandmother's unveiling(that's like jewspeak for a second funeral, sorta) He seemed very funny and chain smoked, so I totally understood how we were related. I feel like I should know him more-Maybe I could have gone to the White House, when he worked with Madeleine Albright and a guy named Clinton. Then he married the fascinating and well accomplished, Christiane Amanpour. Now, I should really know her. We should be having tea on the top of a castle in Salzburg, and she should be telling me about her latest trek to Nepal. Sadly, I have not met her and she is now my cousin too! The fact is, they are my family and I don't even know them. The biggest memory I have of Jamie is when he was a hippie back in the late 70's/early 80's and he used to come over to hang out with my parents and talk about Dead shows----and he would always somehow make the dog pee on the floor. I'm sure not many people on CNN know that. Anyway--that's it---Just feel I should know people in my family more than I do. Because you always learn more about yourself when you get to know other characters and personalities in your family tree. Jamie and I could have the same slight case of ocd and we wouldn't even know it! Goodnight John Boy.

And the winner is.....

I don't care--this day has always been like Christmas to me---since I can remember, circa age three, I have been watching this monstrosity and loving every minute of it. Still dreaming, to this day, of possibly one day---well, winning--Or at least attending. So, today I bunker in, soothing face mask on, snacks in the cabinets -ready to see who wins----even though we all know the odd name we will hear the most tonight is Juno--Which of course, sweet as punch, witty as the winters are bleak, but I mean-------is it really the best pic? Although give me 18 Junos as opposed to one big production Ghandhi or The English Patient anyday--

Thank you and goodnight--you all look stunning
xo

Highschool Days

This picture takes me right back. Classic--just found this online, it was taken outside my Highschool or Junior Highschool-(they were right next to eachother)---circa --well circa the 80's. This picture looks like the cover of a New Edition album---but I knew these guys--the best----life was simple then--------now I feel old again, get me my cane, son.

I Lost Two Babies This Month

--A real one------and my comedy show, Max----
and this is all to make me stronger--or some bullshit like that-----or so "they" say

xo