Crystal Zevon

Ug.  I’m stuck.  I haven’t written here for a year and a half, so hopefully, no one is reading it, but I thought maybe if I did a little free-style journal writing, I’d loosen up and the words will start flowing like a gusher over Hoover Dam.  Yeah.  Right.  I’m working on a play for Broadway.  Was going beautifully, then I came to New York to care for a friend who is in late stages of terminal lung cancer… I know her from Paris. We’ve had lots of fun over the years, but I have to face it, she was difficult and demanding under the best of circumstances and now she’s dying (although still talking about what she’ll be doing ten years from now), requires untold amounts of care and attention, and while I’m here, I’m not sure I have the capacity to even have my own thoughts, let alone write anything compelling, when I have to keep stopping mid-sentence to fetch a ginger ale… I can’t write about this here.  It sounds too selfish, and what if someone reads it… I’m out of funds and don’t have a paycheck coming.  I asked my friend for some financial help (she’s got oodles), and that turned into yet another exercise in total humiliation.  My dog sitter left, so yesterday I get a call from the market on a busy street that he’s running down the street almost getting hit by cars.  My son-in-law has the two kids and their two dogs… And, I’m trying to write song and dance numbers to the tune of Warren Zevon for Broadway.  I’m working with Jordan on this, and that is a thrill and a pleasure.  Also, with Jorge.  Something has come together, and I need to step up to the plate.  I have that fear fist in my stomach all the time lately… like when you’re a kid and you know you’re going to be called to the principal’s office for spraying shaving cream on the classroom windows, so every footfall in the hallway outside the classroom might be his… Like, I’m such a bad girl because I cooked salmon for myself last night and my friend couldn’t bear the smell, and how dare I… Okay, enough.  I’m going to try to work.

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