Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Mr. Punkrock is watching a doc on the making of the meant-to-be-hated Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours", partly because it was the first music Summer's best girlfriend, Danya, wanted to hear in the days after her tragic passing and also because I know this is the way, however, searing to live - as an New Yorker with your heart cleft in twain by California. You need both - the tough as fuck NYC shit and the soul, all sunshine, all ready to be hurt so badly you might never be able again to draw breath. This is where I live. And I make so many mistakes, my little sweetheart. So many mistakes. But just, to love. To love. Even Joey Ramone knows that much... xo-m
Monday, March 25, 2013
So, I have another little story for you. I realize most of you don’t have a lot of truck in this praying business and to he honest, I’m not exactly sure where it’s coming from (aside from deep inside me) but I could certainly be doing worse things with my time (and have). It’s been a while (mostly because of the play taking up all my time) but I have liked going to the Choral Evensong at St Thomas on 5th Ave & 53rd. It’s a magnificent cathedral in the middle of midtown and was at first my attempt at replicating the even more ancient and awesome experience I had frequenting St Paul’s evensong in London. But I haven’t been in a while, probably since Christmas. This is Holy Week, tho’ and so they’ll be pulling out all the stops, reaching for every high note, lighting every candle, and I’m gonna hit it Wed, Fri and Saturday. Meantime, and this is actually what I wanted to tell you, there is a far far more modest little church on 51st street just around the corner from my apartment. It’s mostly an Hispanic congregation, I think. And across the street is a little rectory where the nuns live. There’s a sweet little garden next door, beautiful flowers abound and a statue of The Virgin Mary is at its center. I can’t remember exactly when I started doing this but every time I pass, I stop and say the same little prayer- for Summer, to keep her safe in The Beautiful New Place and for our reunion there forever and soon. I go by there a lot. It’s the way to and back from the theatre. It’s the way to and back from my run. It’s the way to and back from D’Agostino’s. I stop every time, both ways, close my eyes, gripping the black iron grating, and say my little prayer. Tonight on my way to Dags, I stopped, as always. The snow was turning to rain. Just as I finished, one of the young nuns came out of the door with a couple of garbage bags on a hand truck. As I turned to go, I saw her beaming at me. “She hears you”, she said. My heart leapt. “Thank you, ” I replied. “Happy Holy Week”. “God bless you, ” she said. She hears you. I think she meant Mary but I’ll take it all in all...
Monday, March 18, 2013
My Love. My Light. My gingersnap. My little sweetheart. My conscience. My protector. My soulmate. My treasure. My true one. My critic. My holy collaborator. My trusted confident. My partner. My only one. My truth. My best friend. My everything... At that hour in which she passed from this life to the Beautiful New Place, two years ago tonight and we stumbled into the night weeping, we looked up at the sky and the clouds parted to reveal a celestial event known as the perigee-syzygy "Supermoon", when the moon, earth and sun align, the moon passing in its closest orbit to the earth - a phenomenon that occurs once every 17-20 years. Once in a generation. Yup. Once in a lifetime. Love you forever, my gorgeous girl. Until that day. Until that day...
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Two years ago tonight for the last time I laid down beside my little sweetheart and fell asleep with her head on my shoulder, her little hand in mine, her sweet little feet curled around my ankles. And in the morning I woke with her in my arms and kissed her, so grateful, and told her I loved her and even though we had to go to rehearsal, we didn't get outta bed right away. And it was so lovely. And we couldn't know that it would be the very last time. For now, my sweetheart. Until I can be with you again and forever. Until that day. Until that day.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Just heard that Summer's mom is flying all the way across the country to see closing night of the play. It is such an unbelievably kind and hugely generous thing for her to do that I am in tears. I realise that I am often in tears but still. So grateful and excited. Doubtless relatedly, yesterday after I wept and wept and wept at my shrink session and then, when it was over, fell to the floor in the waiting room and wept some more, I walked back across the park, past the Met, through a tunnel where the usual sax dude was blowing some jazzy number as I passed and he suddenly broke into "Somewhere Over the Rainbow". And yet again I understood that not only is Summer around and full of love and concern for me, for us, but she also retains her wonderful sense of humour and her intense concentration: "Michael. Sweetheart. I'm here. Please get it." Yes, my love. A thousand times, yes...
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Just back from grabbing another (entirely ill-advised) six pack of delicious NoCal (Petaluma) beer, Lagunitas IPA. Show in the homestretch. NPR "Studio 360" re-broadcast today shortly before I head to theatre. Tonight, as often, just drained from what I pull out of myself to do this, because however incongruous or inappropriate, I only do anything that touches my soul to honour and name and leave my bloody stain for my Miracle Girl. I waste a couple hours watching a basketball game I don't care about and then, as I say, venture out for more takeout brew I don't at all need. Some guy is shouting somewhere. People are disturbed and rush by. I spot him as I return. He's homeless and alone and leaning against a wall. I hand him five bucks and say "take care of yourself, brother" because the kindest, most wonderful girl who ever walked the earth once loved me. He examines the bill and, I think, thanks me. I can't be sure because his words are indecipherable. But the Miracle Girl plucks a chord in my soul. Do the right thing. Someday, someday so soon. Together forever. No more pain...xxoo