You know why I love Boxing Day? (that’s the day after xmas for all you yanks…) Because it means Christmas is over and we don’t have to listen to anymore crap Christmas music. I mean really. How can people stand to listen to those same fucking songs over and over and over, year after year?… they’re not even that good of songs. Silent night my ass, not with all those jingle bells rocking round the Christmas trees decking the halls and jamming pigeons up pear trees.
Fuckin hell.
Christmas really is such a production in the states, and my family is no exception. My mother is a bit of a Martha Stewart, and so every year there are perfectly little wrapped jems under a perfectly decorated tree while some sweet little cider kind of beverage cooks on the stove and makes the whole house smell delicious and safe and there are candles in the windows protecting us from the outside and all we do is cook and eat and be lazy.
It’s pretty fucking awesome, but as with everything in my family and in this country, there are a million expectations and responsibilities and expectations. Yesterday everyone went sledding and when I opted to stay home for a precious few minutes of quite time you would have thought I told them I wasn’t coming home for xmas or something.
“What do you MEAN your not coming!!!! You HAVE to come!!!”
Actually, no. I don’t.
I just needed a little down time. A little time without food, or cooking or cleaning or talking about what we are going to cook, clean or eat. (As I write this now, everyone is down stairs eating AGAIN. I don’t think I can EVER eat again. Fucking a. TOO MUCH.)
Re-entering the states at this time of the year is just, a lot. These people are fucking crazy. Americans are nuts. Wound so tight, so predictable so exhausting. And the gluttony is especially apparent and overwhelming this time of year.
I’ve been crying more than usual. And the usual is sort of never for me. I’m not a big crier. But I have wept like a baby a few times since coming home. It’s the strangest thing. I just get so overwhelmed. It’s not rocket science why… call it sadness about not being in Rome, call it sadness abut having had the dream of living in Italy for so long and being home so quickly after that began, call it being simply TIRED, call it being bored at home, call it searching in a REAL way for the first time in my life, call it not being alone after spending a year alone virtually each and every day, call it being 30… call it whatever you want.
The simple truth is I can’t do the things like I did before I left. I am different. And when I try and pretend I’m not, I freak out and have to lock myself in a bathroom or a closet or someshit and have a good long hard hard cry.
It’s a new thing for me. I’m not a huge fan of the new weepy chase. But what the fuck. At least I’m listening to myself, rather than trudging on, turning it into stress and needing a massage that I never get. Fuck that.
I pretty much always try to remain present in any given circumstance- you know show up, be present. But sometimes I just need to crawl up to my bed room with my cats and pound away on my computer for a while. Because even though I’m here, in this house, in Colorado, with my family right now. But in my heart, I am a million trillion miles away… in a little secret garden with my cats, and the sun, where it is quiet, still and I don’t need to cry.
Monday, December 26, 2005
Monday, December 19, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
TWELVE FOURTEEN OH FIVE?
Is it really the 14th of December? Jesus Christ it’s been a long time since I wrote… I mean I guess it’s only 8 days but that’s a lot for me… fuck man. LA. Being back here- fuck, I’ve slipped right back to where I was before I left and sometimes it feels like my time in Rome, my life there, and that whole experience didn’t even exist….
It’s fucking weird.
I think the jet lag is finally wearing off. I was in a state of exhaustion for about 2 weeks- seriously fucking tired.
I did the museum thing… what a relief to get that over with. I got 47 volunteers. I have no idea how I did it- working and being all jet lagged and weird… but I did it and the evening went great and blah blah blah…. I just felt like I could finally relax once it was over. That week building up to it was just brutal.
I hadn’t been back in the country for a week and there I was making upwards of 50 phone calls in a day- balancing budgets, multi tasking, going out with friends at night, Basketball games, dinner parties… I mean it was like my life here in LA was on hold, just waiting for me… and all I had to do was show up and it would just start again…
Like my life was a part in a play that some understudy had been performing for me for the last year… and now I am back, and while it was a little strange at first, automatic pilot took over – and I am here. Playing this part, being this person… doing this job, being this daughter, and this sister, and this friend…
And it’s nice and comfortable and all of that- I mean Jesus, I can’t tell you nice it is to HAVE THIS. HERE. STILL.
But.
But I don’t know… feels kinda tired, and I feel kinda like this is just a means to an end. Come here, make money, move on.
I was talking to an old friend who (after telling me I looked simply exhausted) was hoping I would take care of myself in the next few weeks and that I would remember all the things I had learned and the ways I had changed and that I wouldn’t just let myself slip back into my old ways…
And I was trying to explain to her, that while I would love to have time for myself and have the nice relaxing pace I’ve had for the last year… I don’t know how to do that here-
How am I not going to go to dinner with Mimi and Damaris next Monday? How am I not going to go to Harry’s birthday party cuz I have to get up at 5am? (Oh wait I did that last night and have felt guilty all day. And MORE than guilty, I feel like I missed something…) because I WANT to go to Harry’s birthday, and I WANT to go to the Clipper games with Max, and to Thursday night to watch Lost on Tivo with my friends… I mean who wouldn’t?
It’s fun to have a social life… it’s just fucking exhausting.
Anyway.
I am home and I am fucking KNEE DEEP IN THE HOOPLA. Looking so forward to Christmas- cant wait to go to Colorado and get the fuck out of LA again.. taking my cats (my poor cats… they are so cool, so tough, so awesome… what a team we 3…). I think I am excited for Colorado because it is comfortable and familiar but I don’t have adult patterns there, and I can’t wait to have a little nature in my life, and finally- I just can’t wait to kiss those two little boys. I just can’t fucking wait.
So for now I am at work, making some stupid insurance commercial. Sitting on an apple box, in the sun, on a back lot in LA, surrounded by fake houses, watching my life go by.
Because that’s what I do in LA.
It’s fucking weird.
I think the jet lag is finally wearing off. I was in a state of exhaustion for about 2 weeks- seriously fucking tired.
I did the museum thing… what a relief to get that over with. I got 47 volunteers. I have no idea how I did it- working and being all jet lagged and weird… but I did it and the evening went great and blah blah blah…. I just felt like I could finally relax once it was over. That week building up to it was just brutal.
I hadn’t been back in the country for a week and there I was making upwards of 50 phone calls in a day- balancing budgets, multi tasking, going out with friends at night, Basketball games, dinner parties… I mean it was like my life here in LA was on hold, just waiting for me… and all I had to do was show up and it would just start again…
Like my life was a part in a play that some understudy had been performing for me for the last year… and now I am back, and while it was a little strange at first, automatic pilot took over – and I am here. Playing this part, being this person… doing this job, being this daughter, and this sister, and this friend…
And it’s nice and comfortable and all of that- I mean Jesus, I can’t tell you nice it is to HAVE THIS. HERE. STILL.
But.
But I don’t know… feels kinda tired, and I feel kinda like this is just a means to an end. Come here, make money, move on.
I was talking to an old friend who (after telling me I looked simply exhausted) was hoping I would take care of myself in the next few weeks and that I would remember all the things I had learned and the ways I had changed and that I wouldn’t just let myself slip back into my old ways…
And I was trying to explain to her, that while I would love to have time for myself and have the nice relaxing pace I’ve had for the last year… I don’t know how to do that here-
How am I not going to go to dinner with Mimi and Damaris next Monday? How am I not going to go to Harry’s birthday party cuz I have to get up at 5am? (Oh wait I did that last night and have felt guilty all day. And MORE than guilty, I feel like I missed something…) because I WANT to go to Harry’s birthday, and I WANT to go to the Clipper games with Max, and to Thursday night to watch Lost on Tivo with my friends… I mean who wouldn’t?
It’s fun to have a social life… it’s just fucking exhausting.
Anyway.
I am home and I am fucking KNEE DEEP IN THE HOOPLA. Looking so forward to Christmas- cant wait to go to Colorado and get the fuck out of LA again.. taking my cats (my poor cats… they are so cool, so tough, so awesome… what a team we 3…). I think I am excited for Colorado because it is comfortable and familiar but I don’t have adult patterns there, and I can’t wait to have a little nature in my life, and finally- I just can’t wait to kiss those two little boys. I just can’t fucking wait.
So for now I am at work, making some stupid insurance commercial. Sitting on an apple box, in the sun, on a back lot in LA, surrounded by fake houses, watching my life go by.
Because that’s what I do in LA.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
BACK IN BLACK
Holy shit I live in America again.
It’s kinda hard to know where to begin. I guess where I left off.
SAYING GOODBYE:
I only cried twice. Once when I sold my Vespa. I don’t know… Luigi was so good to me- he was my man, we never crashed, he never broke down on me, he was such a pal and he was so so baby blue. I actually cried. Then I cried the next morning when I put the cats in the elevator with some strange Italian man who shuttled them away and I freaked out. Luckily I took drugs and calmed down. Thank god for drugs.
TRAVELING
Flying for that long blows. Period. 10 hour flights just sucks. I mean, I doped up when I dropped the cats off, and that made me sleep for a while. But 10 hours. You wake up, you know? Luckily I had no one sitting next to me on either leg… so that was kinda sweet.
NEW JERSEY
Spent the night in Jersey at Aunt Lois’s house. TJ, Joe, Lois and Bryan. Love them. The real highlight was Emily and her amazingly beautiful daughter Sabine, came out for dinner and had a visit. That was pretty great. She looks amazing… and that little girl- holy shit. Gorgeous. The cats were fucking fine there… I mean like “what up we’re worldly cats… gimme a new house I don’t EVEN care.” It was bizarre.
ARRIVING
I was tired… obviously. In fact everyone was. The family was working so we ordered take out and kinda just starred at each other. I woke up at like 6 am on sat morning and thought fuck it and so I unpacked. Got mostly settled, made a run to my storage. Tried to take a nap- totally didn’t. I was feeling pretty fucking weird.
CULTURE SHOCK IN SAV-ON
I don’t think I’ve ever had culture shock before. Not like, real culture shock. But I pretty much lost my mind in Sav-on. It was the tomato soup. I’ve been craving tomato soup with a white bread and Velveeta grilled cheese sandwich for fucking ages… (gross I know, but you miss the strangest things when your gone for long enough) and there it was- right there- in Sav-on… in the food aisle. And there was just everything- food, detergent, stockings, cotton balls, convenience, check lines… it was all of it, AMERICA right fucking at my finger tips… it was so intense… I never felt like that before. Shortly there after I totally lost it and cried my eyes out for as long as I could..
THE PARTY
There wasn’t much time for crying or shock because in about 2 hours I was to arrive at a party for my 30th birthday that Carter threw me with about 300 people. It was truly awesome. I mean, it was just so much fun. It was strange at first, so I started in on the champagne. I got pretty drunk. Which is not surprising considering the amount I drank over the 8 hours in which I was at the party drinking- and considering the jet lag and the shock and exhaustion… actually I think I did pretty good. Except that I don’t remember anything- as I look back now- the entire thing was such a blur I basically can’t remember a second of it. I mean- sure I remember it… but not really- not really at all. (in fact I seem to remember the drunk bits clearer than the NOT DRUNK BITS…) It’s so weird. One thing I absolutely remember is that at about 4:30 in the morning a gorilla suit appeared and I put that fucker on and rode a bicycle a full lap around the book store. It was a definite highlight. Seriously- it was so much.. I had a fucking blast. But I was in such culture shock at that time it’s all like a dream to me now.
VICKI
There’s a reason she’s my best friend. She flew all the way out from NYC for my party. What a girl.
THE JOB
SO then I started working today. 12 days. In a row. Oh my god. Here we go. (we’re building a house so we can blow it up…it’s gonna be awesome but what a waste- fucking Hollywood)
INCOGNITO
And then there is the whole reason I came home early- an art show I am coordinating. I need 50 volunteers by Saturday night. I have 35. Fuck man. This is all a lot.
I have this theory that we don’t bite off more than we can chew… like we can always pull shit off if we make ourselves. But I just… I just don’t think I want to anymore.
I’m not as good as multi tasking. Or maybe I’ll get better at it… but I had to hang up with Damaris tonight because it was quite simply too hard for me to talk on the phone and work at the same time… that’s like, pathetic for me.
So even though I may be back on the playground… it might take a minute to be in full swing again. But luckily I got plenty of people around to give me a push…
It’s kinda hard to know where to begin. I guess where I left off.
SAYING GOODBYE:
I only cried twice. Once when I sold my Vespa. I don’t know… Luigi was so good to me- he was my man, we never crashed, he never broke down on me, he was such a pal and he was so so baby blue. I actually cried. Then I cried the next morning when I put the cats in the elevator with some strange Italian man who shuttled them away and I freaked out. Luckily I took drugs and calmed down. Thank god for drugs.
TRAVELING
Flying for that long blows. Period. 10 hour flights just sucks. I mean, I doped up when I dropped the cats off, and that made me sleep for a while. But 10 hours. You wake up, you know? Luckily I had no one sitting next to me on either leg… so that was kinda sweet.
NEW JERSEY
Spent the night in Jersey at Aunt Lois’s house. TJ, Joe, Lois and Bryan. Love them. The real highlight was Emily and her amazingly beautiful daughter Sabine, came out for dinner and had a visit. That was pretty great. She looks amazing… and that little girl- holy shit. Gorgeous. The cats were fucking fine there… I mean like “what up we’re worldly cats… gimme a new house I don’t EVEN care.” It was bizarre.
ARRIVING
I was tired… obviously. In fact everyone was. The family was working so we ordered take out and kinda just starred at each other. I woke up at like 6 am on sat morning and thought fuck it and so I unpacked. Got mostly settled, made a run to my storage. Tried to take a nap- totally didn’t. I was feeling pretty fucking weird.
CULTURE SHOCK IN SAV-ON
I don’t think I’ve ever had culture shock before. Not like, real culture shock. But I pretty much lost my mind in Sav-on. It was the tomato soup. I’ve been craving tomato soup with a white bread and Velveeta grilled cheese sandwich for fucking ages… (gross I know, but you miss the strangest things when your gone for long enough) and there it was- right there- in Sav-on… in the food aisle. And there was just everything- food, detergent, stockings, cotton balls, convenience, check lines… it was all of it, AMERICA right fucking at my finger tips… it was so intense… I never felt like that before. Shortly there after I totally lost it and cried my eyes out for as long as I could..
THE PARTY
There wasn’t much time for crying or shock because in about 2 hours I was to arrive at a party for my 30th birthday that Carter threw me with about 300 people. It was truly awesome. I mean, it was just so much fun. It was strange at first, so I started in on the champagne. I got pretty drunk. Which is not surprising considering the amount I drank over the 8 hours in which I was at the party drinking- and considering the jet lag and the shock and exhaustion… actually I think I did pretty good. Except that I don’t remember anything- as I look back now- the entire thing was such a blur I basically can’t remember a second of it. I mean- sure I remember it… but not really- not really at all. (in fact I seem to remember the drunk bits clearer than the NOT DRUNK BITS…) It’s so weird. One thing I absolutely remember is that at about 4:30 in the morning a gorilla suit appeared and I put that fucker on and rode a bicycle a full lap around the book store. It was a definite highlight. Seriously- it was so much.. I had a fucking blast. But I was in such culture shock at that time it’s all like a dream to me now.
VICKI
There’s a reason she’s my best friend. She flew all the way out from NYC for my party. What a girl.
THE JOB
SO then I started working today. 12 days. In a row. Oh my god. Here we go. (we’re building a house so we can blow it up…it’s gonna be awesome but what a waste- fucking Hollywood)
INCOGNITO
And then there is the whole reason I came home early- an art show I am coordinating. I need 50 volunteers by Saturday night. I have 35. Fuck man. This is all a lot.
I have this theory that we don’t bite off more than we can chew… like we can always pull shit off if we make ourselves. But I just… I just don’t think I want to anymore.
I’m not as good as multi tasking. Or maybe I’ll get better at it… but I had to hang up with Damaris tonight because it was quite simply too hard for me to talk on the phone and work at the same time… that’s like, pathetic for me.
So even though I may be back on the playground… it might take a minute to be in full swing again. But luckily I got plenty of people around to give me a push…
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
TOMORROW
Is my last day in Rome. I have packed completely so there is very little to “be done” tomorrow- apart from a long lunch, a relaxing morning, 2 scripts to read, sell my scooter and say goodbye to my friends round the pub tomorrow eve.
It’s not sad, not really. I already have a flight back in Feb. And although I will obviously miss my friends, and SO MUCH this city, this time, this way of life…
I still feel, very much, that everything is as it should be.
And that makes leaving somehow easier.
All systems go- t minus 48 hours.
I’ve said it before, and I will, blatantly say it again:
Buy the ticket.
Take the ride.
Hambrula.
It’s not sad, not really. I already have a flight back in Feb. And although I will obviously miss my friends, and SO MUCH this city, this time, this way of life…
I still feel, very much, that everything is as it should be.
And that makes leaving somehow easier.
All systems go- t minus 48 hours.
I’ve said it before, and I will, blatantly say it again:
Buy the ticket.
Take the ride.
Hambrula.
Saturday, November 26, 2005
FOR THE FIRST TIME
I got really excited to go home today. Just realized all the amazing people that are there that I miss so much, and all the wonderful luxuries I get to indulge in: Showers, baths (been fucking months man) A haircut from Brenda and fucking mani pedi whenever I please… oh man and sushi and Mexican and mom’s cooking and carter and nikki’s cooking and warm weather and a yard for the cats and the beach and TV and movies all the time- oh fuck man. And Whole foods and basketball and a big desk, oh man and my printer and my desk chair!!! And a bed that’s not a cheap ass futon fold out couch… And sally’s ugly carpet pet ladder thing so she can get to high places without me lifting her p and getting her down…and Sav-on drugs (don’t even need anything, just love that it’s there….) And how bout this one- computer screen cleaner- gagging for that, my computer is just filthy, god and Tivo and THE OC, and Damaris and Carter and Jacob and my parents and Frenchie and Jamie and my mans and ma meems and just to pick up the phone and not have to dial with a calling card and punch in the number and blah blah blah… to call Emily and Vicki whenever, at any hour… god and life without a 9 hour time difference, and to just be able to speak FLUENTLY, ELOQUENTLY to anyone- to order meat at the butcher and actually get what you want… and to be funny to strangers, to be able to have CHARM back… god- and work. I’m excited for work- you know a proper job with a proper income so I can fucking buy a thing or two should I fancy it…
YES. I needed desperately to be away from all those things. And I needed to be broke and live simply. And I did, and I was and IT WAS AWESOME and hard and fun and simple and liberating- fucking hell so liberating.
But I think I might be done now. (Or at least this week I am).
I mean, am I apprehensive about going home? Sure. Am I apprehensive about living with my parents for ummm, an indefinite amount of time- absolutely. Do I wish I could bring Luigi the Vespa there and not have to buy a gas guzzling monster machine car? Fuck yes. Do I fear the greed heads and the hate mongers that run the country? So much. Am I worried I won’t have any time for myself to read and to sit still, and wonder and ponder and stare and write blogs and work on my little projects? Yea, it’s been an amazing year for that: ME TIME…Am I afraid that after 4 weeks I am going to number one want to buy thousand and thousands of unnecessary over advertised electronics and number two (and worse), decide I made a mistake and wish I had stayed- ABSOLUTELY fear that.
But coming here was a risk- and I did it and it worked out great. Going home is a risk too, in a way. But it seems to me the thing to do. And right now- given all the circumstances, financial and otherwise, things decidedly feel like they are, as they should be.
So I can’t wait to go home and fuck about for a few months in LA. Sounds fun. Finally. It sounds fun.
YES. I needed desperately to be away from all those things. And I needed to be broke and live simply. And I did, and I was and IT WAS AWESOME and hard and fun and simple and liberating- fucking hell so liberating.
But I think I might be done now. (Or at least this week I am).
I mean, am I apprehensive about going home? Sure. Am I apprehensive about living with my parents for ummm, an indefinite amount of time- absolutely. Do I wish I could bring Luigi the Vespa there and not have to buy a gas guzzling monster machine car? Fuck yes. Do I fear the greed heads and the hate mongers that run the country? So much. Am I worried I won’t have any time for myself to read and to sit still, and wonder and ponder and stare and write blogs and work on my little projects? Yea, it’s been an amazing year for that: ME TIME…Am I afraid that after 4 weeks I am going to number one want to buy thousand and thousands of unnecessary over advertised electronics and number two (and worse), decide I made a mistake and wish I had stayed- ABSOLUTELY fear that.
But coming here was a risk- and I did it and it worked out great. Going home is a risk too, in a way. But it seems to me the thing to do. And right now- given all the circumstances, financial and otherwise, things decidedly feel like they are, as they should be.
So I can’t wait to go home and fuck about for a few months in LA. Sounds fun. Finally. It sounds fun.
Thursday, November 24, 2005
TURKEY DAY
Happy thanksgiving America. Not my favorite holiday (the whole slaughtering an innocent nation of people… I don’t know), but absolutely my favorite meal. I am just chilling in Rome alone- no celebrations no nada. Just a chill night at home with the cats.
My birthday, on the other hand was, awesome.
My near and dear Zoe George took me out and we had a fucking blast. We just wandered around Rome creating havoc- going from bar to bar, restaurant to restaurant- drinking champagne, popping balloons, lighting fireworks, jumping on monuments, tried to steal a golf cart… (foiled unfortunately)… it was absurdly fun. I spent a lot of the day on the phone- thank you all for calling and emailing me- no shit, it was an impressive turnout- birthdays always make me feel loved when I get so many calls… (and some random ones too- how about my babysitter from when I was like 5 called to say Happy 30th… amazing).
Anyway- my first day of my 30’s was, ahem, not so fun. It was just like my 20’s only the hangover was much much worse.
It literally happened overnight. I’m gonna go right ahead and say in the TOP 5 bad hangovers of all time. Actually, fuck that- it’s number 2. (there was one other really bad day- but I was in Aspen and there was some altitude lack of oxygen element that really fucked that one up…) this one was just pure and simply brutal.
Anyway… I suppose the long hard road of old age has officially begun… I’ll begin saying things like “oh, there goes my back again” and “why I remember when I was a kid, we used to write our letters BY HAND” Fuck man. All that “your only old in your mind” shit is- well shit. I live like an 18 year old, but I get hung over like a 30 year old. That shit ain’t fair.
Anyway-
One good story for you today. Took the cats to the vet for their health cert so they can fly next week, and couldn’t get a taxi home. 5:30 rush hour, called for one twice, couldn’t hail one on the street- BRUTALLY cold. Waited for so long- but the cats were cold, and so was I, so I said fuck it, and walked. 20 minutes. Uphill. With the two cats. Sucked. Now, for those of you who have met Peter, you know, he’s like, well, if my brother was a cat… or say, an SUV perhaps. HE’S FUCKING ENORMOUS, he’s the better part of 20 pounds, and while Sally is comparably small, at a mere 11 pounds- put that together, and that’s a whole lot of pussy to be dragging down the street. It totally sucked. But it made thankful. For taxis, and cars, and free rides, and heat, and having another person in your life from time to time to help carry the weight.
And I’ve been in Rome for a year without these things. All these things I so took for granted. And today, maybe truly for the first time ever. I really was grateful, that so so soon- it will all be back in my life.
Ci vidiamo dopo.
My birthday, on the other hand was, awesome.
My near and dear Zoe George took me out and we had a fucking blast. We just wandered around Rome creating havoc- going from bar to bar, restaurant to restaurant- drinking champagne, popping balloons, lighting fireworks, jumping on monuments, tried to steal a golf cart… (foiled unfortunately)… it was absurdly fun. I spent a lot of the day on the phone- thank you all for calling and emailing me- no shit, it was an impressive turnout- birthdays always make me feel loved when I get so many calls… (and some random ones too- how about my babysitter from when I was like 5 called to say Happy 30th… amazing).
Anyway- my first day of my 30’s was, ahem, not so fun. It was just like my 20’s only the hangover was much much worse.
It literally happened overnight. I’m gonna go right ahead and say in the TOP 5 bad hangovers of all time. Actually, fuck that- it’s number 2. (there was one other really bad day- but I was in Aspen and there was some altitude lack of oxygen element that really fucked that one up…) this one was just pure and simply brutal.
Anyway… I suppose the long hard road of old age has officially begun… I’ll begin saying things like “oh, there goes my back again” and “why I remember when I was a kid, we used to write our letters BY HAND” Fuck man. All that “your only old in your mind” shit is- well shit. I live like an 18 year old, but I get hung over like a 30 year old. That shit ain’t fair.
Anyway-
One good story for you today. Took the cats to the vet for their health cert so they can fly next week, and couldn’t get a taxi home. 5:30 rush hour, called for one twice, couldn’t hail one on the street- BRUTALLY cold. Waited for so long- but the cats were cold, and so was I, so I said fuck it, and walked. 20 minutes. Uphill. With the two cats. Sucked. Now, for those of you who have met Peter, you know, he’s like, well, if my brother was a cat… or say, an SUV perhaps. HE’S FUCKING ENORMOUS, he’s the better part of 20 pounds, and while Sally is comparably small, at a mere 11 pounds- put that together, and that’s a whole lot of pussy to be dragging down the street. It totally sucked. But it made thankful. For taxis, and cars, and free rides, and heat, and having another person in your life from time to time to help carry the weight.
And I’ve been in Rome for a year without these things. All these things I so took for granted. And today, maybe truly for the first time ever. I really was grateful, that so so soon- it will all be back in my life.
Ci vidiamo dopo.
Monday, November 21, 2005
HOLY DREAMS AND SHIT
I’ve been having some decidedly fucked up dreams. Total anxiety morning madness- good fuck. Dreamt I had a fight with my parents last night cuz they took me to a football game, and I was “bugging out” (that was the phrase I used in the dream…) and ther was a wave machinge that used real water…(in the dream that was impressive) and I wanted to leave because I fell in love with an old friend (which made me wake up with the creeps), but I was pissed because my mom tricked me into going to the game, and I needed her car to leave… oh man- just weird shit that are all obvious to read into and I feel silly for having them… it’s like JEEEE-SUS.
I went shopping (this is not a dream) for my birthday breakfast today- salmon, capers, cream cheese and the closest thing I could get to a bagel. It’s totally NOT a bagel, but I’m real good with my imagination- and I have a real fancy bottle of champagne- so I plan to bring in 30 with a little treat for myself. Then I am going to lunch with the girls. And then I think I’m gonna get a tattoo. (I feel so naughty about that… tee-hee).
All my friends are really loving on me right now- it’s kinda overwhelming. For the first 6 months I could hardly get them to open up- and then, like when you try and try to open a jar and it suddenly gives- so too did they with their friendship. And for the last 6 months I have been forging some really important wonderful friendships. But the shit that’s gone down in the last week- saying goodbye when it feels so fucking premature- we all just fell in love! And now it’s later days to the Yank. Anyway- they have a few pints and its “we love chase” time. It’s kinda intense. Nice and sweet, and feels really good (even though inside I am laughing aloud at them all.. cuz their such saps…) but still it’s kinda heavy.
Turning thirty tomorrow. Wow.
That’s so fucking awesome I can’t even deal. Dirty Thirty.
Thirty is a full fledged grown up. I’m like a big kid now. That’s so wild.
I’m a grown up and it’s fucking cold today. Oh yea, and did I mention that I am grown up without HEAT IN MY APT. Wow does this suck. I’ve never not had my heat work in my life. Lemme tell you it really sucks. It’s so cold in here… ahhh. All I can do is laugh at the absurdity of this country. I called my land lord a MONTH ago about the heat. Don’t know why I should be surprised it’s still not fixed, and now it’s like, fuck it, it’s just a week + I can make it. But fuck it sucks. Sincerely.
Anyway- in the words of my favorite red head, “You need 4 inches of bod and a great birthday”
I went shopping (this is not a dream) for my birthday breakfast today- salmon, capers, cream cheese and the closest thing I could get to a bagel. It’s totally NOT a bagel, but I’m real good with my imagination- and I have a real fancy bottle of champagne- so I plan to bring in 30 with a little treat for myself. Then I am going to lunch with the girls. And then I think I’m gonna get a tattoo. (I feel so naughty about that… tee-hee).
All my friends are really loving on me right now- it’s kinda overwhelming. For the first 6 months I could hardly get them to open up- and then, like when you try and try to open a jar and it suddenly gives- so too did they with their friendship. And for the last 6 months I have been forging some really important wonderful friendships. But the shit that’s gone down in the last week- saying goodbye when it feels so fucking premature- we all just fell in love! And now it’s later days to the Yank. Anyway- they have a few pints and its “we love chase” time. It’s kinda intense. Nice and sweet, and feels really good (even though inside I am laughing aloud at them all.. cuz their such saps…) but still it’s kinda heavy.
Turning thirty tomorrow. Wow.
That’s so fucking awesome I can’t even deal. Dirty Thirty.
Thirty is a full fledged grown up. I’m like a big kid now. That’s so wild.
I’m a grown up and it’s fucking cold today. Oh yea, and did I mention that I am grown up without HEAT IN MY APT. Wow does this suck. I’ve never not had my heat work in my life. Lemme tell you it really sucks. It’s so cold in here… ahhh. All I can do is laugh at the absurdity of this country. I called my land lord a MONTH ago about the heat. Don’t know why I should be surprised it’s still not fixed, and now it’s like, fuck it, it’s just a week + I can make it. But fuck it sucks. Sincerely.
Anyway- in the words of my favorite red head, “You need 4 inches of bod and a great birthday”
Sunday, November 20, 2005
IT’S A LOVE FEST
Here in Rome. Leaving in a week and 1/2. Turning 30 in two days… oh just let the celebrations begin. And they have.
We celebrated my last Friday night of my 20’s, and I suffered greatly on Saturday… but Suzie and Zoe disguised as a UPS package (as if) weaseled their way into my apartment and bloody mary in hand carried me out to celebrate me last SATURDAY night in my twenties.
Next week is already a blur and I it hasn’t even happened yet. SPQR baby. SPQR.
I’ve decided to get a third tattoo to commemorate my time here. I think I will do on the Tuesday. I like to bring in decades with a bit of irreverent behavior. The last night of my teens I shaved my head bald. (thank you very much for your help Max Wheeler)…
But thirty needs champagne and caviar no? Too bad I’m so broke it’s more like Prosecco and gnocchi, but do I sound like I’m complaining?
On a different note quite suddenly it became winter here. I mean holy fucking shit it is cold. Too cold to go outside to smoke a cigarette, you need a COUPLE of coats to just walk down the street. I’m sure last night was in the low 30’s. I don’t think I could take it all winter. I don’t know how people do it.
I tell you one thing, my ass is RUNNING back to the wintertime in LA. Gimme some bitches in bikinis on rollerblades on the beach. Woo-hoo heat and alliteration. That’s what I am looking for. I say god damn.
But so anyway- I am leaving so so soon, and it’s a love fest out here. Can’t believe I am leaving. I just, can’t believe it. I think actually maybe it hasn’t hit me? How is that possible? I feel really aware and present- it’s just, I can’t believe that I am not going to get to walk into fins and see 25 people I know at any giving moment. I think I get the big picture, but it is the little things that I don’t even know that I love that I will miss- I have that feeling very strongly.
Is it possible that there is something greater at work here? That, for all my introspection I have still somehow missed, the biggest part of this whole deal? Perhaps one day in a month or two I will be in Colorado with the boys or in LA at work or wherever the fuck, in whole foods and BAM, Whatever I feel I am missing, will hit me like a ton of bricks. And I will find myself in a whole in the sidewalk. Looking up at the sky- seeing in it a shade of blue for the first time? Or am I wrong about that.
Is the sky really just that color?
I also am feeling a little apprehensive about going to LA. It’s not so much that I won’t have fun, or love to see my people again, but I’m afraid that the silent sneaking depression that was so present in my life for the last few years of my tenure there, will return. I know I am in a different place and much stronger and smarter and whatever… I HAVE THIS. This thing inside me that I got from coming here. And I think it is probably strong enough to ward off whatever LA can throw at me. But I am still a little scared.
But I guess that means I’m paying attention. Wouldn’t be right if I turned 30, left Rome and moved in with my parents all in the same 2 weeks… I SHOULD BE SCARED. Which I guess is why I am excited to go.
Because I dig that what scares me. BRING IT THE FUCK ON. You know? Lets do this.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Stay the course Chase. Buy the ticket. Take the ride.
I say God damn. I’ll see those bikini clad bitches yet.
We celebrated my last Friday night of my 20’s, and I suffered greatly on Saturday… but Suzie and Zoe disguised as a UPS package (as if) weaseled their way into my apartment and bloody mary in hand carried me out to celebrate me last SATURDAY night in my twenties.
Next week is already a blur and I it hasn’t even happened yet. SPQR baby. SPQR.
I’ve decided to get a third tattoo to commemorate my time here. I think I will do on the Tuesday. I like to bring in decades with a bit of irreverent behavior. The last night of my teens I shaved my head bald. (thank you very much for your help Max Wheeler)…
But thirty needs champagne and caviar no? Too bad I’m so broke it’s more like Prosecco and gnocchi, but do I sound like I’m complaining?
On a different note quite suddenly it became winter here. I mean holy fucking shit it is cold. Too cold to go outside to smoke a cigarette, you need a COUPLE of coats to just walk down the street. I’m sure last night was in the low 30’s. I don’t think I could take it all winter. I don’t know how people do it.
I tell you one thing, my ass is RUNNING back to the wintertime in LA. Gimme some bitches in bikinis on rollerblades on the beach. Woo-hoo heat and alliteration. That’s what I am looking for. I say god damn.
But so anyway- I am leaving so so soon, and it’s a love fest out here. Can’t believe I am leaving. I just, can’t believe it. I think actually maybe it hasn’t hit me? How is that possible? I feel really aware and present- it’s just, I can’t believe that I am not going to get to walk into fins and see 25 people I know at any giving moment. I think I get the big picture, but it is the little things that I don’t even know that I love that I will miss- I have that feeling very strongly.
Is it possible that there is something greater at work here? That, for all my introspection I have still somehow missed, the biggest part of this whole deal? Perhaps one day in a month or two I will be in Colorado with the boys or in LA at work or wherever the fuck, in whole foods and BAM, Whatever I feel I am missing, will hit me like a ton of bricks. And I will find myself in a whole in the sidewalk. Looking up at the sky- seeing in it a shade of blue for the first time? Or am I wrong about that.
Is the sky really just that color?
I also am feeling a little apprehensive about going to LA. It’s not so much that I won’t have fun, or love to see my people again, but I’m afraid that the silent sneaking depression that was so present in my life for the last few years of my tenure there, will return. I know I am in a different place and much stronger and smarter and whatever… I HAVE THIS. This thing inside me that I got from coming here. And I think it is probably strong enough to ward off whatever LA can throw at me. But I am still a little scared.
But I guess that means I’m paying attention. Wouldn’t be right if I turned 30, left Rome and moved in with my parents all in the same 2 weeks… I SHOULD BE SCARED. Which I guess is why I am excited to go.
Because I dig that what scares me. BRING IT THE FUCK ON. You know? Lets do this.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Stay the course Chase. Buy the ticket. Take the ride.
I say God damn. I’ll see those bikini clad bitches yet.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
MONA LISA’S AND MAD HATTERS
Well, mom and D have been here for 6 days. What a fun fun time. I can’t tell you. So so amazing and wonderful. It was such a trip, and in many ways solidified my experience here in Rome. Sometimes it takes a best friend and your mom to show up to make it all real. Even if it is two weeks before you leave….
We had such adventures. We went to the Vatican (which was so wonderful, so much better than the last time I was there a month ago) and we traveled down south to Pompeii to see the crazy ruins (which was so beautiful but after an afternoon in the south I was just plain THRILLED to get home to Rome). And we shopped and moseyed around and we went to the flea market, and mom bought me THE MOST BEAUTIFUL ring for my birthday, AND WE ATE. Oh man did we eat. Just meal after meal. Sort of a final hurrah for me. Being that I am off so soon, it was just bliss to be able to share all my favorite stores and restaurants and corners of the city with them. And we crossed a few things off my to do list, and even found a few I didn’t know were on it. It was so great.
But now that they are gone it is back to life.
My precious life that I get for only two more weeks. Which aren’t even normal weeks. I turn thirty, I cook thanksgiving (or a version thereof- no turkey- bird flu is a real thing here…) and then I say good bye to my favorite city in the world and I go back to fucking America.
I am totally resigned to going at this point… but I have realized that I AM NOT DONE IN ROME. And that makes me feel strange that I am going. I am very aware that I don’t want to go, and at the same time I am OK to go… I just know sometimes as a grown up you have to do certain things, and now that I am 30 (or at least I will be in less than a week) I must act responsible and like a big girl and do what I must.
It’s time to get my cats home. It’s time to go and make some money. It’s time to be a god mother.
But
this
time
IS.
ALMOST.
OVER.
And I will mourn it’s passing. But I am so grateful and happy and blessed that It happened at all.
And I will maintain and I will survive, and so too will Rome. As long as the Coliseum stands, and the eternal flames glows and my heart beats.
So too, will my love for this great seat of western civilization live on.
However buried under soot and silt and sewer over how many thousands of year… I will love this place, and this time.
“I thank the lord for the people I have found. While Mona Lisa’s and Mad Hatters, sons of bankers, sons of lawyers, turn around and say good morning to the night. For unless they see the sky, but they can’t and that is why, they no not if it’s dark outside or light. “ -EJ
And in more un sentimental news my brother is throwing a huge fuck all coming home/ birthday party for me the night after I arrive to LA.
So I suppose fuck Mona Lisa, fuck her mad hatters, Its time to go back to one.
We had such adventures. We went to the Vatican (which was so wonderful, so much better than the last time I was there a month ago) and we traveled down south to Pompeii to see the crazy ruins (which was so beautiful but after an afternoon in the south I was just plain THRILLED to get home to Rome). And we shopped and moseyed around and we went to the flea market, and mom bought me THE MOST BEAUTIFUL ring for my birthday, AND WE ATE. Oh man did we eat. Just meal after meal. Sort of a final hurrah for me. Being that I am off so soon, it was just bliss to be able to share all my favorite stores and restaurants and corners of the city with them. And we crossed a few things off my to do list, and even found a few I didn’t know were on it. It was so great.
But now that they are gone it is back to life.
My precious life that I get for only two more weeks. Which aren’t even normal weeks. I turn thirty, I cook thanksgiving (or a version thereof- no turkey- bird flu is a real thing here…) and then I say good bye to my favorite city in the world and I go back to fucking America.
I am totally resigned to going at this point… but I have realized that I AM NOT DONE IN ROME. And that makes me feel strange that I am going. I am very aware that I don’t want to go, and at the same time I am OK to go… I just know sometimes as a grown up you have to do certain things, and now that I am 30 (or at least I will be in less than a week) I must act responsible and like a big girl and do what I must.
It’s time to get my cats home. It’s time to go and make some money. It’s time to be a god mother.
But
this
time
IS.
ALMOST.
OVER.
And I will mourn it’s passing. But I am so grateful and happy and blessed that It happened at all.
And I will maintain and I will survive, and so too will Rome. As long as the Coliseum stands, and the eternal flames glows and my heart beats.
So too, will my love for this great seat of western civilization live on.
However buried under soot and silt and sewer over how many thousands of year… I will love this place, and this time.
“I thank the lord for the people I have found. While Mona Lisa’s and Mad Hatters, sons of bankers, sons of lawyers, turn around and say good morning to the night. For unless they see the sky, but they can’t and that is why, they no not if it’s dark outside or light. “ -EJ
And in more un sentimental news my brother is throwing a huge fuck all coming home/ birthday party for me the night after I arrive to LA.
So I suppose fuck Mona Lisa, fuck her mad hatters, Its time to go back to one.
Monday, November 07, 2005
LET THE WILD RUMPUS START
Holy mother fucking shit.
Oh man. November’s gonna be a big month. I can feel it.
I’m such a schmuck. I’ve got this smile on my face and I can’t get rid of it… such a goof ball.
I’m so happy.
Anyway, yesterday I got a phone call and my mom and damaris are coming to Rome to visit me for (what I am calling) a pre birthday happy days weekend… they get here on Wednesday! It’s Monday! I’m so pumped. No time to anticipate… they get here in two days…So it’s the ol’ clean up, straighten up and get ready for my girls. So fun.
AHHHH. Smile. There it is, that goofy child like, just got a piece of candy grin.
Ha.
Oh man. November’s gonna be a big month. I can feel it.
I’m such a schmuck. I’ve got this smile on my face and I can’t get rid of it… such a goof ball.
I’m so happy.
Anyway, yesterday I got a phone call and my mom and damaris are coming to Rome to visit me for (what I am calling) a pre birthday happy days weekend… they get here on Wednesday! It’s Monday! I’m so pumped. No time to anticipate… they get here in two days…So it’s the ol’ clean up, straighten up and get ready for my girls. So fun.
AHHHH. Smile. There it is, that goofy child like, just got a piece of candy grin.
Ha.
Saturday, November 05, 2005
LOVE LETTER TO MY TWENTIES
In a few days I will be leaving my twenties and entering my thirties. It’s a milestone. It’s a rite of passage. It’s a reality.
I loved my twenties. I partied my ass off in my twenties. Holy shit.
Here’s a look back at a few of the highlights:
1995- 1996- 20
I was still in college. Living at 525 Newbury street with Vicki.
It was junior year. I spent the spring of my twentieth year traveling thru Europe and living in a castle in Holland. It was the first time I came to Rome. Jake and Vicki broke up. I started my senior year of college. I quit smoking. I was still doing theater. I stayed up for 7 days in a row during finals that fall.
1996-1997- 21
Big year. Became a senior in college, turned 21, dislocated my shoulder. My best friend Miles died. Started smoking again. Finished off senior year- began my relationship with alcohol. Moved out of Boston with a suitcase and a jar with a plant clipping in it. Spent the summer in Aspen. Looked east looked west. Decided LA had better weather and moved to Santa Monica. Got an apartment at 1306 Arizona Ave. Met a boy named Hugo. Got a job in the Art dept. Planted the clipping. Got a cell phone.
1997-1998-22 (My golden Birthday year)
Amazing Year. Sometimes I still feel like I’m 22. I found a cat and named her Sally… Formed Chick Pee Productions. Raised 40 grand with the Girls and shot a movie. Josh and Dave Carr lived with me for the summer. Ate Drank slept Jack and Jill. Moved the plant to a bigger pot.
1998-1999- 23
Spent the spring not doing anything to the film. Major guilt. Got another cat, named him Pete. Broke up with my loser boyfriend. Started dating a girl. Got a DUI. Finished my movie.
1999-2000- 24
Brought in the millennium with a premiere of my first film at CAA. Great premiere. Everyone I ever knew was there. I felt like a movie star. I was still so hopeful. Spent the spring traveling to film festivals with the film. Realized I hated the business side of film. So that summer I launched into a documentary on psychics that I never finished. The actors went on strike and I had to get a “real” job. So I helped my parents build their house. That fall I moved into a new apartment at 1450 Franklin St. Brought my plant. 3 days before my birthday I died my hair purple.
2000- 2001- 25
Another big year. Brought in my 25th year with the first of many enormous parties at my new apartment. Drove to up the California coast with my best friend Vicki. Got a tattoo of a star on my wrist. Went to Hawaii for work for two weeks. Produced a short film called Ménage A Zombie. Fell in Love. Got my heart broken. Lost about 30 lbs. Performed my first wedding ceremony. Threw a party that lasted 5 1/2 days. Found out I was sick… something hormonal…And spent the rest of the year on a drinking bender.
2001-2002- 26
The drinking bender continued. Brought in the New Year with 6 of my closest friends from college. Suffered deeply from a still aching heart. Spent a lot of time at the doctors. Gained back all the weight I had lost. Hit rock bottom in Culver City. Vowed to get healthy. Grew my hair out. Decided to get the fuck out of town and drove thru 36 states in 46 days. Made a coffee table book called WC USA.
2002-2003- 27
Felt better, but numb. Got to work. Worked my ass off. Bought a convertible, completely re-did my apartment. Became a godmother. Bought a myself fancy new computer. Threw a few parties. Realized I was done with LA. (didn't realize I would stay another 2 years...)
2003-2004- 28
Started this year by having $3000 of my savings stolen. (There goes last year’s hard work). Did some soul searching and bought a plane ticket to Rome for the fall. Worked my ass off (again). Went to Rome. Fell in love, found happiness. Came home and stated packing up my life.
2004-2005- 29
Packed my apartment. Sold my car. Quit my job. Took a clipping from my plant. Moved to Rome. Bought a Vespa. Found an apartment at 189 Via Panisperna. Planted the clipping. Wrote a book. Learned to speak Italian. “Found myself”. Forgave myself. Ate, traveled, remembered how to smile. Performed my cousin’s wedding, got a job with Medusa Films. Made new friends. Spent all my money.
2005-2006- 30
Few things are certain for me… but this year I plan to go back state side, buy a car, work in LA forthe winter, move to Colorado for a while in the spring to be with my godsons. Maybe spend the fall in NYC, dunno. Guess we'll see. This is much is for sure. Where ever I go, and whatever I do. You can be sure, I’ll take Pete, Sally, and my plant with me.
I loved my twenties. I partied my ass off in my twenties. Holy shit.
Here’s a look back at a few of the highlights:
1995- 1996- 20
I was still in college. Living at 525 Newbury street with Vicki.
It was junior year. I spent the spring of my twentieth year traveling thru Europe and living in a castle in Holland. It was the first time I came to Rome. Jake and Vicki broke up. I started my senior year of college. I quit smoking. I was still doing theater. I stayed up for 7 days in a row during finals that fall.
1996-1997- 21
Big year. Became a senior in college, turned 21, dislocated my shoulder. My best friend Miles died. Started smoking again. Finished off senior year- began my relationship with alcohol. Moved out of Boston with a suitcase and a jar with a plant clipping in it. Spent the summer in Aspen. Looked east looked west. Decided LA had better weather and moved to Santa Monica. Got an apartment at 1306 Arizona Ave. Met a boy named Hugo. Got a job in the Art dept. Planted the clipping. Got a cell phone.
1997-1998-22 (My golden Birthday year)
Amazing Year. Sometimes I still feel like I’m 22. I found a cat and named her Sally… Formed Chick Pee Productions. Raised 40 grand with the Girls and shot a movie. Josh and Dave Carr lived with me for the summer. Ate Drank slept Jack and Jill. Moved the plant to a bigger pot.
1998-1999- 23
Spent the spring not doing anything to the film. Major guilt. Got another cat, named him Pete. Broke up with my loser boyfriend. Started dating a girl. Got a DUI. Finished my movie.
1999-2000- 24
Brought in the millennium with a premiere of my first film at CAA. Great premiere. Everyone I ever knew was there. I felt like a movie star. I was still so hopeful. Spent the spring traveling to film festivals with the film. Realized I hated the business side of film. So that summer I launched into a documentary on psychics that I never finished. The actors went on strike and I had to get a “real” job. So I helped my parents build their house. That fall I moved into a new apartment at 1450 Franklin St. Brought my plant. 3 days before my birthday I died my hair purple.
2000- 2001- 25
Another big year. Brought in my 25th year with the first of many enormous parties at my new apartment. Drove to up the California coast with my best friend Vicki. Got a tattoo of a star on my wrist. Went to Hawaii for work for two weeks. Produced a short film called Ménage A Zombie. Fell in Love. Got my heart broken. Lost about 30 lbs. Performed my first wedding ceremony. Threw a party that lasted 5 1/2 days. Found out I was sick… something hormonal…And spent the rest of the year on a drinking bender.
2001-2002- 26
The drinking bender continued. Brought in the New Year with 6 of my closest friends from college. Suffered deeply from a still aching heart. Spent a lot of time at the doctors. Gained back all the weight I had lost. Hit rock bottom in Culver City. Vowed to get healthy. Grew my hair out. Decided to get the fuck out of town and drove thru 36 states in 46 days. Made a coffee table book called WC USA.
2002-2003- 27
Felt better, but numb. Got to work. Worked my ass off. Bought a convertible, completely re-did my apartment. Became a godmother. Bought a myself fancy new computer. Threw a few parties. Realized I was done with LA. (didn't realize I would stay another 2 years...)
2003-2004- 28
Started this year by having $3000 of my savings stolen. (There goes last year’s hard work). Did some soul searching and bought a plane ticket to Rome for the fall. Worked my ass off (again). Went to Rome. Fell in love, found happiness. Came home and stated packing up my life.
2004-2005- 29
Packed my apartment. Sold my car. Quit my job. Took a clipping from my plant. Moved to Rome. Bought a Vespa. Found an apartment at 189 Via Panisperna. Planted the clipping. Wrote a book. Learned to speak Italian. “Found myself”. Forgave myself. Ate, traveled, remembered how to smile. Performed my cousin’s wedding, got a job with Medusa Films. Made new friends. Spent all my money.
2005-2006- 30
Few things are certain for me… but this year I plan to go back state side, buy a car, work in LA forthe winter, move to Colorado for a while in the spring to be with my godsons. Maybe spend the fall in NYC, dunno. Guess we'll see. This is much is for sure. Where ever I go, and whatever I do. You can be sure, I’ll take Pete, Sally, and my plant with me.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
THE FAIREST OF THE SEASONS
Now that Patrick is gone- it means I am the next one to go. I leave in exactly one month and I am so not looking forward to it. Blatantly.
Obviously it will be fine- but after 30 years of being sentimental and lets-face-it, a bit melodramatic… (why stop now?) I feel all this sadness about leaving…
I keep blaming my departure on the fact that I can’t afford it- and while that is the truth, it’s not about money… you can ALWAYS make money, it’s not that… it’s… you know I chose to leave, and I’m going to. Because it’s time. An I just really don’t want it to be.
I just feel sad. I liked living in Rome, and I liked being a vespa owner, and I liked being an ex-pat, and I liked saying- “I hate George Bush why do you think I don’t live there?” And as I watched TV last night (a friend has a satellite and he actually had CNN on in his house… it was wild)… but there I was, watching Condoleezza Rice talk in circles about Syria, and I just thought- fuck man, I can’t go back to that country- where you have to drive in the lines, and you can’t carry a beer down the street, and works starts at 4 AM instead of PM… and the PTA of America has so much control… I’m just not sure I can deal with it all again.
I guess I need to stop looking at everything like a life sentence, it’s only temporary, if I choose to make it that way… I can be on a plane right back here in a few months if I decide to…
I think I just know deep down I probably wont, and even if I do… it’s never the same as when you left. It wasn’t the same when I came back in February, as it was last summer- NO FUCKING WAY- not even close, and it won’t be when I come back next time… and so, I am, in a way mourning the closing of THIS PERIOD….
And you know it’s fine, it’s great. It’s all ok, and part of being a grown up… and I get it... It’s just sad…to look out my window on a rainy November day in Rome and think that this is all coming to an end.
Ahh Nico said it best didn’t she?
“Do I stay or do I go, and it is finally that I decide that I‘ll be leaving in the fairest of seasons”
Anyway. Megan, got some Halloween Pics up for you… I was road kill. Stupid. But totally fun. Did you know in Europe Halloween doesn’t equal costume? It has to be gory, in fact they make fun of Americans that say “I’m totally going as a cheerleader this year” if it ain’t dead or bloody it don’t count over here… funny huh?
Obviously it will be fine- but after 30 years of being sentimental and lets-face-it, a bit melodramatic… (why stop now?) I feel all this sadness about leaving…
I keep blaming my departure on the fact that I can’t afford it- and while that is the truth, it’s not about money… you can ALWAYS make money, it’s not that… it’s… you know I chose to leave, and I’m going to. Because it’s time. An I just really don’t want it to be.
I just feel sad. I liked living in Rome, and I liked being a vespa owner, and I liked being an ex-pat, and I liked saying- “I hate George Bush why do you think I don’t live there?” And as I watched TV last night (a friend has a satellite and he actually had CNN on in his house… it was wild)… but there I was, watching Condoleezza Rice talk in circles about Syria, and I just thought- fuck man, I can’t go back to that country- where you have to drive in the lines, and you can’t carry a beer down the street, and works starts at 4 AM instead of PM… and the PTA of America has so much control… I’m just not sure I can deal with it all again.
I guess I need to stop looking at everything like a life sentence, it’s only temporary, if I choose to make it that way… I can be on a plane right back here in a few months if I decide to…
I think I just know deep down I probably wont, and even if I do… it’s never the same as when you left. It wasn’t the same when I came back in February, as it was last summer- NO FUCKING WAY- not even close, and it won’t be when I come back next time… and so, I am, in a way mourning the closing of THIS PERIOD….
And you know it’s fine, it’s great. It’s all ok, and part of being a grown up… and I get it... It’s just sad…to look out my window on a rainy November day in Rome and think that this is all coming to an end.
Ahh Nico said it best didn’t she?
“Do I stay or do I go, and it is finally that I decide that I‘ll be leaving in the fairest of seasons”
Anyway. Megan, got some Halloween Pics up for you… I was road kill. Stupid. But totally fun. Did you know in Europe Halloween doesn’t equal costume? It has to be gory, in fact they make fun of Americans that say “I’m totally going as a cheerleader this year” if it ain’t dead or bloody it don’t count over here… funny huh?
Monday, October 24, 2005
IT’S WHAT YOU TAKE WITH YOU
So as my time here comes to an end, my mind is full of “what next-isms.” I keep thinking about the things I have gotten used to, and all the new shit on the horizon, and all the things that are old, that will feel new- and that which I have attained here- and how much I will bring with me.
First there are the little things- a full set of kitchen knives, choices of plates, more than two mugs… A bigger shower! Being able to control the temperature of water in said shower… wow- a BATH. Wow. And no vespa! My parents house. I have to buy a car. FUCK. I don’t want a car. No way out of that I’m afraid.
Then it’s things like going back to the land where complex carbohydrates are the enemy, and everyone is image obsessed. (Imagine the last 9 months I haven’t heard ANYONE talk about their diet… amazing- so so life altering, I can’t tell you).
And what of TV, and movies anytime I want? And the language… to be back where all communication is possible.
And time. What of all this free time- where will it go? Gobbled up in vacuous LA- land of too many people not enough time?
But life without phone cards, and a real stereo, and my brother and Damaris… And a proper mattress- AND A CHANGE OF SHEETS!!!! Oh wow. So many little things.
But I’ve so gotten used to this paired down lifestyle. Do I really need all that nonsense? No. And yes.
Perhaps I have endured with one set of sheets for 9 months because I always knew, that in a box on the other side of the world, I have more. And maybe I have forgone shaving my legs in the shower for the better part of a year- because one day I will sit upstairs in my parents enormous house looking at a chandelier while sitting in a hot foamy bubble bath… I can be this simple- because complexities are just a plane trip away.
I suppose I won’t know anything until I arrive and it all unfolds. But as I lie in bed- and listen to the sound of Rome outside. Vespas, yelling Italian prostitutes, lost tourists, drunk Irish boys, church bells… god, a thousand church bells… I wonder- what will I miss the most? What is the thing I will want back? Is it in the shower, or the kitchen, or the smell of cobblestones and history, or in the sound of the bells and the motorino’s mufflers? Or is it me? Will I miss who I am here- out on the other side of the world, all alone, the most recent version of myself? Where my oldest friend is someone I met last September… perhaps I will miss the isolation- the privacy. The quiet.
I suspect I will miss the stillness the most.
Is that stillness inside me? Or is it here in this place? Will that quiet be in LA too? Will I find again in Colorado?
Is it in me? Or do I leave it here?
And how much, if any, can I take with me?
First there are the little things- a full set of kitchen knives, choices of plates, more than two mugs… A bigger shower! Being able to control the temperature of water in said shower… wow- a BATH. Wow. And no vespa! My parents house. I have to buy a car. FUCK. I don’t want a car. No way out of that I’m afraid.
Then it’s things like going back to the land where complex carbohydrates are the enemy, and everyone is image obsessed. (Imagine the last 9 months I haven’t heard ANYONE talk about their diet… amazing- so so life altering, I can’t tell you).
And what of TV, and movies anytime I want? And the language… to be back where all communication is possible.
And time. What of all this free time- where will it go? Gobbled up in vacuous LA- land of too many people not enough time?
But life without phone cards, and a real stereo, and my brother and Damaris… And a proper mattress- AND A CHANGE OF SHEETS!!!! Oh wow. So many little things.
But I’ve so gotten used to this paired down lifestyle. Do I really need all that nonsense? No. And yes.
Perhaps I have endured with one set of sheets for 9 months because I always knew, that in a box on the other side of the world, I have more. And maybe I have forgone shaving my legs in the shower for the better part of a year- because one day I will sit upstairs in my parents enormous house looking at a chandelier while sitting in a hot foamy bubble bath… I can be this simple- because complexities are just a plane trip away.
I suppose I won’t know anything until I arrive and it all unfolds. But as I lie in bed- and listen to the sound of Rome outside. Vespas, yelling Italian prostitutes, lost tourists, drunk Irish boys, church bells… god, a thousand church bells… I wonder- what will I miss the most? What is the thing I will want back? Is it in the shower, or the kitchen, or the smell of cobblestones and history, or in the sound of the bells and the motorino’s mufflers? Or is it me? Will I miss who I am here- out on the other side of the world, all alone, the most recent version of myself? Where my oldest friend is someone I met last September… perhaps I will miss the isolation- the privacy. The quiet.
I suspect I will miss the stillness the most.
Is that stillness inside me? Or is it here in this place? Will that quiet be in LA too? Will I find again in Colorado?
Is it in me? Or do I leave it here?
And how much, if any, can I take with me?
Saturday, October 22, 2005
FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC
I mean seriously man. This calls for a god damned celebration.
OK- first good news. I may yet be out of the woods with regards to the cat debacle. (see previous entry). Too soon to really say anything yet, but I can confidently express there is a very promising situation on the horizon. Whereby me, Pete, and Sally all arrive safely stateside, and on schedule.
And the second piece of good news, and this one is the doosey… with many thanks going to my brother Carter Carter and my most recent visitor Zoë Foster, it looks as though I won’t have to say goodbye to Rome after all. Allow me to explain.
While Zoë was here she gave me a very wise talking to in regard to my career and my current job and put my head on square (as it’s been a bit wobbly as of late) And with that pep-talk in my back pocket, and my ever techno savvy brother just a phone call away- the following has transpired:
I successfully figured out how to hack into the Medusa network- meaning that I can now receive their emails from anywhere on this blessed globe. (say for example, LA, Colorado.. you see where I’m going with this…)
And then I gave my boss a little talking to- telling him I had no intention of terminating my employment with him, and that I would continue to read scripts and monitor the Hollywood scene for him- only via internet. He, was thrilled by the idea- AND BETTER YET, when he said, “and then we’ll just sort out payment” I suggested in lieu of payment, every other month or so- he should fly me to Rome, where we can have a face to face, and I can… well- come back to the city I love most in the world… for free!!!!
So that’s that. He thought it was a fucking smashing idea, and I, for one am just so damned pleased with myself I would kiss my own ass if I bent that far over.
Seriously. Happy fucking days.
Smile with me world… It’s all gona be terrific, I just know it. Oh and look at that- Chase turns 30 in one month to the day. Good grief.
Buy the ticket. Take the ride.
OK- first good news. I may yet be out of the woods with regards to the cat debacle. (see previous entry). Too soon to really say anything yet, but I can confidently express there is a very promising situation on the horizon. Whereby me, Pete, and Sally all arrive safely stateside, and on schedule.
And the second piece of good news, and this one is the doosey… with many thanks going to my brother Carter Carter and my most recent visitor Zoë Foster, it looks as though I won’t have to say goodbye to Rome after all. Allow me to explain.
While Zoë was here she gave me a very wise talking to in regard to my career and my current job and put my head on square (as it’s been a bit wobbly as of late) And with that pep-talk in my back pocket, and my ever techno savvy brother just a phone call away- the following has transpired:
I successfully figured out how to hack into the Medusa network- meaning that I can now receive their emails from anywhere on this blessed globe. (say for example, LA, Colorado.. you see where I’m going with this…)
And then I gave my boss a little talking to- telling him I had no intention of terminating my employment with him, and that I would continue to read scripts and monitor the Hollywood scene for him- only via internet. He, was thrilled by the idea- AND BETTER YET, when he said, “and then we’ll just sort out payment” I suggested in lieu of payment, every other month or so- he should fly me to Rome, where we can have a face to face, and I can… well- come back to the city I love most in the world… for free!!!!
So that’s that. He thought it was a fucking smashing idea, and I, for one am just so damned pleased with myself I would kiss my own ass if I bent that far over.
Seriously. Happy fucking days.
Smile with me world… It’s all gona be terrific, I just know it. Oh and look at that- Chase turns 30 in one month to the day. Good grief.
Buy the ticket. Take the ride.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
OK- STAY CALM CHASE
So I just found out that Continental (the airline I am flying out on) DOES NOT accept cats internationally any longer. Gulp.
Neither does US AIR- which is what I came in on, they recently changed their policy. Gulp.
Doesn’t look like very many airlines at all fly cats out of Italy. Gulp.
So, uh…. I am trying to figure this mother fucker out.
Of course I will get them home, obviously it will all work out. I will do anything I have too. Of course. It just might, uh get really fucking stupid expensive.
Awesome.
I’ll keep you posted.
Neither does US AIR- which is what I came in on, they recently changed their policy. Gulp.
Doesn’t look like very many airlines at all fly cats out of Italy. Gulp.
So, uh…. I am trying to figure this mother fucker out.
Of course I will get them home, obviously it will all work out. I will do anything I have too. Of course. It just might, uh get really fucking stupid expensive.
Awesome.
I’ll keep you posted.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
WELL IT’S OFFICIAL
My parents sold the farm I grew up on in Colorado, and they have downsized into a super cute little house in basalt. I’ve been receiving pictures from dad over the past few weeks, and I thought I’d share them with you.
When I see these pictures I know, it’s gonna be great to go home.
When I see these pictures I know, it’s gonna be great to go home.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
ONE MORE THING
I would personally like to French kiss Steve Jobs. My new favorite person. Today I downloaded the season premier of Lost (which I have been unable to watch because I live in another country you see) and I watched the fucking show!!! I cannot tell you how awesome it was. I think that man is a genius. I thinks Apple is the greatest company in the world (kinda). And that makes me very very pleased. Now if they would just get the OC on there my life would be complete.
Ahh, how I love American TV. You really don't know how good you've got it.
Ahh, how I love American TV. You really don't know how good you've got it.
HOLY SHIT
Been meaning to write for days, but honestly it is not until this very moment that I have had any time. And even now I should be reading an enormous pile of scripts that has accumulated on my desk this week. BACK TO BACK TO BACK TO BACK TO BACK visitors. Haven’t eaten at home in almost two weeks.
Exhausting. LOTS of fun, but bloody exhausting.
So first it was Zoë. (Well, technically it was Leisa first- who was here for what amounted to almost 3 weeks on and off)… Then it was Zoë. Had a really wonderful couple of days while she was here. Sincerely. It was so so great. Zoë has been to Rome twice before, so the obvious pressure to take her to all the major sights was totally alleviated- leaving us to do as we pleased. What’s more- Zoë was very encouraging in terms of doing things I still hadn’t done. So, for example even though I’ve been here almost a year I still hadn’t climbed up to the top of the dome in St Peters (500 steps up… and very strange and claustrophobic and hilarious)… nor had I been blessed by the new pope, or gone to this really swanky fancy restaurant I had heard about… all of which we did. It was so fun. Zoë is so low maintenance and she was a pleasure to have in town… so it was awesome. And as always a wonderful wonderful to spend a few days with an old old friend that knows me so well, it really is nice to have friends for a long time. To check out pic’s of Zoë and I go here
.
Zoë left Thursday the same day David Franco arrived in Rome (AKA Amy French’s boyfriend) and the same day 8 of my relatives on my dads side arrived. The fame got in late so I was able to have an evening with Mr. Franco.
We had a wonderful long long long very Italian style dinner. We even moved inside when it got cold. I think we were at the restaurant for almost 4 hours. It was lovely. Unfortunately I didn’t get to see him again because the next morning bright and early I went and met the Carter clan.
My father’s oldest brother Jimmy, his wife Beverly their two kids Scott and Shannon. Scotts wife Michelle, Beverly’s sister and brother in law Judy and Al, and Bev and Judy’s dad- the amazing 90 year old “Pop” who kept up with us all the way.
They were a big group. I can’t imagine ever traveling with 8 people.. and after this weekend I know now there’s no way I could. That being said, we had a really really nice time.
We went out and ate fancy dinners and drank delicious wine, we told funny stories and laughed a lot… having my uncle here reminded me so much of my dad- it made me miss dad so much (ahhhhhh). I hooked them up with a private tour of ancient Rome, and on Sat we went to the Vatican on another private tour, that I went on too- it had been a year since I had been in there, and it really is fucking amazing.
They all left this morning- and even though it was so nice to see them, I was relieved to see them off- if only so I can have my fucking life back. I’ve been so neglectful. Today I did laundry and read, and slept past 7am… you know? It was nice.
Anyway.
I have to admit- I’ve been having some very serious reservations about going home. Well, more about leaving than going, truthfully.
It’s really hard for me. And I’m pretty sure it’s only going to get harder.
I don’t want to leave. I mean all my friends are REAL now… you know? And something changed in me about a month ago. I woke up one morning and realized- I can fucking speak Italian. I mean not fluently or anything- but fuck man- I learned it, and I can fucking do it. It’s one of the most amazing things I ever done EVER. And I can’t believe that now that I am finally getting good I’m leaving. It’s so stupid.
But I mean, it’s official, I’m going back and I’m leaving this place. AND IT SUCKS. All my friends know, my job knows. It’s happening a month and a half. Or 44 days to be exact.
I actually get really sad and weird and kinda choked up when I think about it. Because, I’m not done here- I’m not. I’ve just gone broke and I have to go stoke the proverbial financial fires as it were.
At any rate. I’ve constructed a list of things to do before I leave. It’s surprisingly not that long. Mostly I just want to enjoy the city, enjoy my friends. Get really really balls out rowdy on my 30th birthday, cook an enormous Thanksgiving dinner for my British friends who have never had it before, and you know… eat pasta, read more scripts, drive Luigi around and just try to be present and not miss a second of this.
It’s all starting to close in on me. I know in my heart it will all be ok… but sometimes I feeling like I have to do a lot of convincing of myself. It’s intense. But that’s life isn’t it. If it wasn’t intense for me it would mean I wasn’t paying attention. And I refuse to live like that.
A vafanculo. Niente non e importa…. Sono un po stanco, ma in fate tutti va bene.
Exhausting. LOTS of fun, but bloody exhausting.
So first it was Zoë. (Well, technically it was Leisa first- who was here for what amounted to almost 3 weeks on and off)… Then it was Zoë. Had a really wonderful couple of days while she was here. Sincerely. It was so so great. Zoë has been to Rome twice before, so the obvious pressure to take her to all the major sights was totally alleviated- leaving us to do as we pleased. What’s more- Zoë was very encouraging in terms of doing things I still hadn’t done. So, for example even though I’ve been here almost a year I still hadn’t climbed up to the top of the dome in St Peters (500 steps up… and very strange and claustrophobic and hilarious)… nor had I been blessed by the new pope, or gone to this really swanky fancy restaurant I had heard about… all of which we did. It was so fun. Zoë is so low maintenance and she was a pleasure to have in town… so it was awesome. And as always a wonderful wonderful to spend a few days with an old old friend that knows me so well, it really is nice to have friends for a long time. To check out pic’s of Zoë and I go here
.
Zoë left Thursday the same day David Franco arrived in Rome (AKA Amy French’s boyfriend) and the same day 8 of my relatives on my dads side arrived. The fame got in late so I was able to have an evening with Mr. Franco.
We had a wonderful long long long very Italian style dinner. We even moved inside when it got cold. I think we were at the restaurant for almost 4 hours. It was lovely. Unfortunately I didn’t get to see him again because the next morning bright and early I went and met the Carter clan.
My father’s oldest brother Jimmy, his wife Beverly their two kids Scott and Shannon. Scotts wife Michelle, Beverly’s sister and brother in law Judy and Al, and Bev and Judy’s dad- the amazing 90 year old “Pop” who kept up with us all the way.
They were a big group. I can’t imagine ever traveling with 8 people.. and after this weekend I know now there’s no way I could. That being said, we had a really really nice time.
We went out and ate fancy dinners and drank delicious wine, we told funny stories and laughed a lot… having my uncle here reminded me so much of my dad- it made me miss dad so much (ahhhhhh). I hooked them up with a private tour of ancient Rome, and on Sat we went to the Vatican on another private tour, that I went on too- it had been a year since I had been in there, and it really is fucking amazing.
They all left this morning- and even though it was so nice to see them, I was relieved to see them off- if only so I can have my fucking life back. I’ve been so neglectful. Today I did laundry and read, and slept past 7am… you know? It was nice.
Anyway.
I have to admit- I’ve been having some very serious reservations about going home. Well, more about leaving than going, truthfully.
It’s really hard for me. And I’m pretty sure it’s only going to get harder.
I don’t want to leave. I mean all my friends are REAL now… you know? And something changed in me about a month ago. I woke up one morning and realized- I can fucking speak Italian. I mean not fluently or anything- but fuck man- I learned it, and I can fucking do it. It’s one of the most amazing things I ever done EVER. And I can’t believe that now that I am finally getting good I’m leaving. It’s so stupid.
But I mean, it’s official, I’m going back and I’m leaving this place. AND IT SUCKS. All my friends know, my job knows. It’s happening a month and a half. Or 44 days to be exact.
I actually get really sad and weird and kinda choked up when I think about it. Because, I’m not done here- I’m not. I’ve just gone broke and I have to go stoke the proverbial financial fires as it were.
At any rate. I’ve constructed a list of things to do before I leave. It’s surprisingly not that long. Mostly I just want to enjoy the city, enjoy my friends. Get really really balls out rowdy on my 30th birthday, cook an enormous Thanksgiving dinner for my British friends who have never had it before, and you know… eat pasta, read more scripts, drive Luigi around and just try to be present and not miss a second of this.
It’s all starting to close in on me. I know in my heart it will all be ok… but sometimes I feeling like I have to do a lot of convincing of myself. It’s intense. But that’s life isn’t it. If it wasn’t intense for me it would mean I wasn’t paying attention. And I refuse to live like that.
A vafanculo. Niente non e importa…. Sono un po stanco, ma in fate tutti va bene.
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