Put this on Facebook just now

Super uncomfortable moment tonight that both triggered me and simply pissed me off.

Adam and I were at Bobby G's having a drink when a little girl around 8 or 9 came over to admire Baz. She didn't stop there. She basically manhandled and fawned over him, grabbing him over and over, until we asked that she return to her table, where her clued-out hippie mom didn't give a damn what was going on. She came back over and this time I physically removed her hands from his body. She sulked away and out the door, a caricature of a grown woman in all her sullen glory.

I'm second fiddle to my son. It happens in the world, and it happens here in the world of Facebook. I've said many times that I could post my intent to have a sex change tomorrow and people would be way more interested in Baz's next burp.

I was never, EVER the pretty girl, the one in demand. In fact, I have real issues with those girls, the ones who come over and grab. It's that possessiveness, that gimme. I want them to get away from him, but more than that, I want them to get away from me.

Fixing the damage

I have a history of needing to be needed. The more wounded the person I might run into, the better, since it was a greater and greater chance that I would be called upon to take care of something. I spent hours talking, soothing, analyzing.

And in the end, I got left more often than not.

Sacramento

From NOT THE MADONNA

Shock is a soft blanket. You sink in without even realizing it. I’d never experienced it until two years ago when I found out that my lifelong friends – my mother’s best friend and her husband – were in a catastrophic car crash outside Saratoga Springs, New York. She was killed and he was thrown into a coma for weeks before his halting recovery began.

I’d literally known Barbara and Steve since before I was born. There was never a time they weren’t around, never a family occasion where she didn’t bring a handmade trinket or he his huge camera that hung around his neck like a particularly amazing piece of bling. One year their holiday card prominently featured his red Porsche. He loved that car. She died in it.

I was having breakfast when I found out. It was a place called Quince Café and Grill, nondescript in most ways except for its food. I always liked the basic special: eggs any way you like it, meat or fruit, your choice of bread and amazing, amazing hash browns. All for less than six bucks. I was finishing up those hash browns when I checked my email. The first thing I saw was an article about some random Saratoga Springs woman dying in a car crash. Adam had sent it to me.

We live in such damn denial. I couldn’t imagine how that article applied to me.

His next email made it clear: BARBARA WEINSTEIN WAS KILLED IN A CAR CRASH YESTERDAY. STEVE IS IN A COMA.

Excuse me. What?

My laptop felt soft and pliable beneath my fingers. I could almost sense my butt sliding off the chair. A snatch of a line I’d heard at many meditation retreats came to mind: Feel the earth under you. It is there to support you.

Fucking hippies. Bring back the dead, Buddha, then we’ll talk.

Before dawn

I was never a morning person. I'm still not. Unless I decide to be.

All this to say that I'm sitting at a Starbucks on Solano Avenue at 4:40 in this morning. This is the time for me. This is the time where I can fuck around, listen to my crappy music on YouTube, and do my writing.

We take our places, me and the old guys with piles of papers. They pull up in their clapped-out Volvos. I do the same in my Mazdaspeed.

This morning I listened to Nine Inch Nails on LIVE 105's Rock Block. I hurt myself today to see if I still feel.

I do.

End of an era

I put this on Facebook just now:

I started my career as a freelance writer nearly two decades ago. Today, I'm narrowing that scope to involve only select projects.

This decision is based largely on the fact that I have a book to finish. That is my priority and I take my priorities seriously. I am extremely fortunate to be in the position to make this choice and I plan to make the most of my time and resources to get it done.

Freelancing has been a wonderful means of achieving everything I've wanted to achieve over the better part of 20 years. Now it's time to complete the transition to the creative side.

Onward.

Email from Adam just now

Like I said, you're 100% you. Landa, inescapably.