TUESDAY - May 4, 1999"There's things I remember and things I forget. I miss you; I guess that I should.
Three-thousand, five-hundred miles away, what would you change if you could?"I've been home a week now from my big adventure to Norfolk. I've been waiting to write this for two reasons-- first, I managed to dislocate a finger and am not typing up to speed (and anyone who knows me, knows that is a joke since I can't type worth a shit anyway, but this is slower than that.) The second reason is I hoped giving myself time to think about what happened would help me express myself more succinctly... another funny. When, in the last 7 years, has self reflection produced anything but remorse and dread for me? It's more like staring into a mirror when you've dropped acid. You just get more lost than you ever thought possible, picking out little (& sometimes not so little) flaws and mistakes until you find yourself huddled in bed with the covers pulled up over your head, unable to cope.
So we're not going to go there. Instead, I'll just try and tell you what happened and let other people worry about what it may or may not mean. Much of this is direct transcription from my "real" journal. Some stuff is edited, the names and whatnot, to protect the innocent, ha ha. By the by, all song quotes are from Counting Crows, August and Everything After. Adam Duritz is a genius.
FRIDAY - April 23,1999
"Won't you help me? I'm falling asleep in perfect blue buildings beside the green apple sea.
I've got to get me a little oblivion, baby. Try to keep myself away from myself and me."The trip down was wet--- rain followed me from Western Pennsylvania. I kept hitting backups on the interstate, on the beltway around D.C., then again on 95 to Fredericksburg. A terrible multi-car pileup, some of the cars looked pretty bad. Two were still attached to each other-- impossible to tell where the one's trunk ended and the other's engine began. I said a bunch of Hail Marys and tried not to think about it. Found my way to the motel with only one wrong turn. Supposed to have severe thunderstorms over the Chesapeake Bay tonight. It's right across the street. There's a park of sorts.
I met a sailor (a cliché but true.) He asked me if I'd mind if he joined me sitting on the beach. He was from Iowa (no ocean there!) Cute, young, tan, nicely built, too young. We sat on the beach and watched the storm coming in from the Northern Bay. The lightning was spectacular, bouncing around off the water and streaking back into the sky. He worked at the Naval Base (surprise, surprise!) and part time at a nearby car wash. He told me it had been nearly ninety degrees the day before. It was seventy-five then--- almost perfect. Seemed like I had driven through three seasons: spring at home, still winter in the mountains ( smoky fog and all the trees bare-limbed), and now summer here.
Three silly ducks were bobbing around out on the Bay--- Moe, Larry, and Curly. My new found friend said the beach had been a real mess a couple of years ago, full of prostitutes and crack heads. Then the Norfolk community cleaned it up, built a wooden pavilion with a bunch of picnic tables up at the dune line. He left rather abruptly when I mentioned my granddaughter (guess it wasn't a proper response to whatever it was he wasn't asking.) When I walked back to my room, I saw the three ducks from the Bay swimming in the motel pool. How funny! Ducking their heads under the water… one got out and waddled around the pool's edge, wiggling his tail feathers, something right out of Beatrice Potter.
Shit, shit, shit… I forgot my melatonin. How am I supposed to get to sleep without it. Guess I'll just take 2 xanax (& call myself in the morning.) My neck is killing me from the drive. I'll take some ibuprophen also. Stupid cell phone didn't work the whole way, can you believe? The motel charges 50 cents per phone call, even if it's local or on my calling card. Unreal.
I haven't called Peg and my cousins in Virginia Beach yet. Did remember to bring her the autographed Penquin hat Heather got for her. I'll call tomorrow & I guess call Bob, our host. See what time the get together is and can I bring something and get directions.
I stayed up too late last night, now I'm really tired. Listened to Counting Crows on the way down. Adam Duritz's lyrics slice away at my soul like a razor blade.
This is the first trip I've ever taken alone in 45 years, pretty pathetic, huh? Well, I'm not gonna think about this tonight. At least I'm here. If I don't do anything else, I've done that much. It'll be okay (the mantra… it'll be okay, it'll be okay, it'll be okay.) Hope this xanax kicks in soon. Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman, "If you get tangled up, you just tango out of it."
Talked to Joe. My old boss called. Wonder what's up? I talked to Chris, the other secretary, yesterday. She asked me if I was going stir crazy. I told her no crazier than usual. Maybe I shouldn't have quit my job. At least it gave me some structure to follow rather than no one but me to answer to. That could be dangerous, especially if I go overboard. I'm going to blow some Z's--- I can't handle thinking about all this right now.
SATURDAY - April 24, 1999
"She knows she's more than just a little misunderstood.
She has trouble acting normal when she's nervous."Well, I'm up and took my pills and I'm drinking coffee in the Ramada Inn lobby or what passes for one. What to do, what to do? Ducks are still in the swimming pool. It doesn't open for another week so I guess it's not chlorinated water--- hope not. Two other women are here in the lobby. A guy in uniform was here but he left. Looks as if we've got donuts, toast, cereal. I'd like a donut but I'll stick to coffee and orange juice (can't call it OJ anymore--- can anyone and not think of him?)
I'd like to give Peg a call in case I don't make it through tomorrow. All night long I kept waking up and reaching for Joe (who, of course, wasn't there.) Very disorienting. If I don't make it through until tomorrow, what will I do instead? Beats me. I can't even figure out what I'm doing right now. Have to call Bob and find out what time that thing is happening. I need a keeper. I do a pretty shitty job of it myself. I made a list of who was supposed to be coming to this shindig then forgot to print it out. I'll try to remember: Chet, Tom, Judy, Priscilla, Darlene, Jan, and Bob, of course. I thought there were more but maybe not. Who knows? Who cares? The temperature dropped 20 degrees since the storm last night. Storm didn't bother me; slept pretty well, considering. Guess I should be keeping track of my expenses. Ok, I started a list at the back of my notebook.
This is too bizarre, being completely alone, anonymous. Forgot a dictionary, I can't believe it. I don't go anywhere without a dictionary. There was some word I saw printed across the side of a tractor trailer yesterday that I really wanted to look up but now I'll never remember what it was…something like litho… liptho, lympho something or other. The truck looked as if it had freezer compartments. Probably don't want to know what it was. Probably body parts or something.
One of the women at the next table knows ducks, says one is the drake. I'm not a woman who knows anything about ducks. Wonder if I can find my way to Peggy Weggy's? I know if you take the exit off the interstate, you just go as far as you can go then turn left but I think there's a back way from here.
4:45 PM--
Back in my room. I should take a shower and get ready for tonight but I think I'll write instead. Thank God for Tom Spenser. He called this morning right as I was about to lose it, totally. Invited me up to his room to meet him and a bunch of the others who are staying here. Tom is the consummate gentleman, as I knew he would be. Judy is funny as can be. Darlene and her friend are the two women I saw in the lobby this morning. Judy flew in from Minnesota. Tom and his wife and entourage drove in from Indiana. Both he and Judy might need a ride to the barbecue tonight.
I drove down to Virginia Beach this afternoon, feeling foolish for my idiotic concerns about traveling. Tom is nearly blind from macular degeneration but managed to get in from Indiana. Judy, in a wheelchair with M.S., flew from Minnesota. Chet, whom I have still yet to meet, has Lupus and is coming from Malaysia, via side trips to both the West and East coasts of Canada and a trip to Massachusetts. God, I'm pathetic. I should get a bottle of wine to take to Bob's I think. Saw a 7-11 in the other direction. Surely there must be one between here and Bob's house.
Surprised everyone in Virginia Beach except Dave-- he answered when I called and didn't seemed surprised at all. Go figure. I should have stayed visiting with Tom and everybody longer. I could only handle 30 minutes. My hands were shaking. Beth and Katie were visiting Va Beach. Poor Pati Dog had a tumor removed from her mouth this past January or February, it's still seeping. They're all going to lose it when the time comes but at least she's not in any pain. The minute I got to Va Beach , I drank a beer and took a xanax. Drank a couple more beers then got afraid I wouldn't be able to drive back… you know me. Neat seeing Katie and Beth. Hadn't seen Katie in 30 years. She has two young sons and an older daughter. She's thinking of home schooling her boys! That takes guts or she's crazier than I am, I'm not sure which. Beth just started a new job. Unfortunately, she hates it (been there, done that.)
I'd really like to run over to the Bay but I don't have time if I'm going to take a shower and stop for the wine.
6:17 PM--
Man, am I an idiot or what? I tried calling Tom's room but got no answer. He told me to call before we go to Bob's. I called the front desk but they couldn't find Judy listed. Walked up to the office and asked for Jan's room but they didn't seem to have anyone registered under that name either. Did I hallucinate this whole scene this morning? Maybe I'll just go over to (the dock of) the Bay and do nada. Or go to that 7-11, buy the biggest bottle of wine I can find and come back here and drink it. "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a prefrontal lobotomy"
Well I tried Tom's room again-- there isn't any answer. Maybe I should just forget the whole thing.
11:00 PM--
She says, 'It's only in my head. Shh, I know, it's only in my head.'
No corkscrew in this room and none at the front desk so how am I going to open this other bottle of Merlot? Drank more than enough Chablis at Bob's. Oh my. I met everyone. Had a great time talking to Bob's wife, Leah. She smokes. Chet is just this little tiny sweetie, so kind and generous. She brought me a gift, a Kush Badak, a Malaysian fried delicacy made with sweet potatoes, filled with shrimp and coconuts, chilis and spices. Good thing it says on here this is a magnet and not edible--- I would have to bite into it after reading that description!
I drank an awful lot. Sorry, but I did have fun. Got to meet Buddy the cat and Leah's pet rats! Leah is fascinating-- she's a biologist, working towards her Masters. Her rats stay in the outdoor tool shed because Bob's developed a severe allergy to them. I have to admit, I was taken aback. I'm not a rat person; in fact, they usually freak me out big time. But I had drank just enough wine to want to go see them. They weren't at all what I expected. Leah has outfitted this tool shed with heat, air-conditioning and lights--- these rats live better than some people I know. She keeps the males and females in separate cages for obvious reasons. Her rats aren't the little white rats you see running through mazes but big colorful ones with soft fur and bright, inquisitive eyes. She told me their natural life span is only about a year and a half. We discussed how hard it is to lose a pet; and how they really are part of your family.
Never did find anyone else here at the motel before I finally just got in the car and drove to Bob's. Stopped and bought 2 bottles of Merlot. Figured I'd come back to the room and drink them myself if I couldn't find his house. Glad I made it. Bob's a good cook. He made two kinds of lasagna (one with white sauce, the other with red), pasta salad, barbecued chicken, garden salad, chips and dips.
Had an inspiring talk with Tom. He is one of the most prolific writers I know. He writes poems and stories, volumes of them and they are good, really good. I tried to tell him how envious I was. I'm always able to write (too much) in my journals but my book sits and waits and grows stale. Tom was very encouraging. Standing there talking to him made me feel like maybe it was possible after all for me to get off my ass and start writing in earnest.
I'm not sure if I can handle more tomorrow. It was really neat meeting everyone in person though. Sort of bizarre. Before they were all just cyber-people, words on my computer screen. Tonight they all had three dimensional bodies, body language, voices, intonations, facial expressions. I ended up liking them even more in person than online. But I'm worried about my behavior. I smoked and drank too much, antisocial behavior?
Peg gave me all this info on the Larkin's for my roots pages. So many stories there. That's what I probably should write about. Man, I'm so tired. It's probably a good thing I don't have a corkscrew. I've had enough wine. My eyes are closing. "Help, I'm sleeping and I can't wake up."
SUNDAY - April 25, 1999
"Believe in me. Help me believe in something 'cause
I want to be someone who believes."I know I had a bit too much to drink last night, just a bit, a wee bit. I recall telling them I wanted to leave before I got obnoxious but what if I was already being obnoxious. Bob is having another get together this afternoon. I don't know what to do. Peg called early and wanted me to check out and come to Va Beach. But I think I have to not check out. As bad as this room is, it's my room. I'm okay. I need to go home maybe. Whatever it is I'm looking for isn't here. Guess it would help if I knew what I was looking for, or what I want to be when I grow up, or what's missing in my life, or how this all fits together, my purpose.
Chet asked me if I was cold last night. My hands were shaking. They do that. I don't know why. Don't know what it means. Does it mean I'm nuts? The shaking seems to have developed in the past 7 years, since my parents got sick or so I remember. Maybe it's always been that way.
Peggy seemed so happy to see me yesterday. It was really nice but it's hard seeing her. There have just been so many things that have happened since she moved and we all miss her so much.
If I leave early tomorrow, maybe take the back roads instead of the interstates, maybe I'll get home early enough. Early enough for what?
12:25 PM--
In the motel lobby, best laid plans of mice and men… Left over an hour ago, thinking I'd find a little shop where I could buy something for Chet. The plan was go to Bob's, spend an hour or so visiting then go on down to Va Beach. Didn't quite work out that way. First of all, I couldn't find any little shops even though I drove almost all the way to Norfolk proper. Thinking I might get lost so I turned around and bought gas. I was going to just go to Bob's but it was early, too early? I didn't want to be rude. Decided to come back to my room for a few minutes anyway. The maid was coming in my room as I was leaving an hour ago but when I got back it was a disaster. Really pissed me off because I left a tip and she took it but the bedspread was laying on the floor and there aren't any clean towels and no one has vacuumed. They weren't very apologetic about it at the front desk. The maid they sent down to fix it was surly as could be. So now what. I'm late for Bob's. Should I just skip it & go to Va Beach. I'm not going anywhere until they do something with that room. I'm such a fucking pansy. I should have stuck with my first instinct when I woke up this morning and stayed in bed.
1:15 PM--
Back in my room--- Took a walk over to the Bay, damn maid shooed me out of the lobby also. Nice at the Bay though. Water was choppier than the other night. It's not as neat as the ocean. The sand is coarser and there are concrete jetties covered with moss going into the water. This room isn't clean but it's "better than it was." It's too late to go to Bob's. And maybe I better call Peggy and tell hert I'm sorry but I can't handle this. I just want to go back to bed. Or be beamed home like in Star Trek. Is everything okay there? Is Joe having problems getting the pipes fixed at Majorsville? Are Heather and Lauren okay? Maybe I shouldn't have come. We don't have the money. I'm starting to lose it.
MONDAY NIGHT - April 26, 1999
"I'm not gonna break, I'm not going to worry about it anymore."
Holiday Inn, Fredericksburg, VA--
I got more than a wee bit drunk last night. Yesterday afternoon I forced myself not to go back to bed. Drove to Va Beach, got there just in time for Dave to leave for work. Jean cooked this scrumptious dinner: keilbasa and shrimp and corn on the cob, all steamed together. Fresh strawberries and whipped cream for dessert. It was to die for. She and Peggy and I drank a bit of wine, then went up to the beach to watch the ocean.
I miss Peggy so much since she moved away. We all do. And I love Jean and Art. It's always fun to spend time with them but at the same time, it's bittersweet. They make me realize how much I miss my parents.
We left the beach and decided to go to the bar where Dave was working. My big mistake was deciding to have a few shots of bourbon with my beer, the infamous Pittsburgh boilermaker. I don't drink that very often any more. I enjoy it a little too much.
We left the bar and went back to Peggy's apartment. Peg popped some popcorn and we were dancing and drinking and grooving to some tapes I had: George Shearing and Nat King Cole. Then I had to hear Counting Crows, REAL LOUD. Things started getting a wee bit hazy. I'm told we called Joe although I have no recollection of it. I remember Dave coming home and asking him if we could go back out and he said sure.
"Oh Lord, I'm not ready for this sort of thing."
We went to to play pool. Obviously, I wasn't much of a partner--- hell, I can't play when I'm sober. I'm lucky I didn't bounce a few balls off bystander's heads. So anyway, it's getting later and later and I'm at that point where I might just drink myself back into sobriety. It's happened, well okay, not legally speaking, of course, but you know what I mean. We drove to a friend's house. I was having great time of it and then finally, mercifully passed out.
When I woke up the next morning I stumbled into the bathroom & promptly fell down and went boom, or let's make that BOOM.
I don't know exactly how it happened because it happened very fast. I know my ring finger on my right hand got caught on something, my chin bounced off something else. It was all very stupid and clumsy and I felt like an idiot. It didn't really hurt but my finger looked ugly, pointing the wrong direction. I found Dave, woke him up and asked for help. I needed to get my stuff out of my motel room before the 10:00 deadline or I'd have to pay another day's worth of charges. He called Jean and Peggy then drove me to my motel. I got my stuff; ran into Chet and Bob as I was checking out. They asked me what had happened and I held up my hand. Dave took me to a Doc in a Box. The doctor who treated me found out I was a writer (or so I said) and had to give me a copy of a poem he wrote. My finger wasn't broken, just dislocated. Also had a hell of a bruise on my chin.
When we got back to Jean and Peggy's, Peg's face looked ashen, like I had scared the living daylights out of her. Jean was up at the beach making a Novena. I felt like such a shit head-- the last thing I wanted to do was worry them. They kept asking me to stay but I had to leave. Couldn't handle it.
We're nearing the end of Jani's Big Adventure. Driving a standard with a dislocated finger is tricky. I decided to only drive halfway (hence my location) and opted for the interstates in order to shift as little as possible. I should have stayed in Va Beach until I healed up a bit… I should have stayed home to begin with… I don't know what I should have done.