The next magnets belong to the fridge of my friend Olivia
* Discussion *
Did you have a good 4th of July
Read the forum that was banned by one reader's office computer because it has "sexual content." I must be having more fun than I thought!
WHAT I'M WATCHING...
Whose Line is it Anyway Will & GraceJust Shoot MeER
Pictures from the Pride March in SF are now up at Club Photo, as are the photos from our weekend in Santa Barbara.
That's it for today!
WISH YOU WERE HERE
6 July 2001
On a discussion board in which Ned and I both participate, we were talking about his childhood and my relations with the kids and he said that I was closer to Paul than I was to the others. He indicated that this didnít bother him, but that it was just fact.
Yeah, I guess heís right. "Closer to" doesnít mean "loves more." And my closeness to Paul had a lot to do with the fact that he lived at home until he was nearly 30, whereas the others did the adult thing--grew up and moved away. Paul and I saw each other every day, and we also had a lot in common and enjoyed each other, so if we didnít see each other, we would usually talk on the phone at least once a day.
I also helped a lot with his publicity, especially after the band ended and Paul went out on his own as a "monologist." He was good at designing his own flyers (better than I am), but I had the computer expertise he didnít have, so we often worked on his publicity together.
I also managed to get good newspaper publicity, for him, as well as for the band, because Iíd been doing publicity for so many years.
That was one major change in my lifestyle after he died--Iíd been involved in his performing career for so long that it was strange to have it come to a skreetching halt. Iíve always said that when God shut the door with Paulís death, he opened the window to let Steve in, since Steve initially filled that "publicity need slot" that I lost when Paul died. That was before Steve became one of my best friends, of course...and now he has his own place in my life, apart from Paul.
Paul and I also loved to tease each other. In the same way when David lived with my mother for several months, the two of them had a kind of cutting sort of relationship that the kids called "The Dave and Grandma" show, as they enjoyed tearing each other down in a joking sort of way. After David died, the kids decided the "Dave and Grandma Show" had been replaced with "The Paul and Mom Show." We said horrible things to each other, teasingly. Paul loved to shock me with language--and would be even more shocked when I gave him back what heíd given me, and perhaps more.
I miss that banter.
This has nothing to do with my relationshp with Jeri, Ned and Tom, each of whom is special in his or her own right. Jeri and I have long, in-depth talks about "Life and death and everything in between." Ned lectures, and I listen. Tom lives far away and travels a lot, so we donít have the chance to sit and talk, but I love visiting him, as we did this past weekend, and hearing everybody tell me what a special person he is (something Iíve always known, of course!)
So why am I bringing this all up today? Well, because there are times when I just wish Paul were around because thereís something I want to tell him, or something I want to share with him. The first time was the first Academy Award telecast after he died. He loved the Oscars, as I always have, and though he watched the show at a party with friends and I watched it at home, we always did an Oscar recap the morning after the show, and it was difficult to have nobody to talk with the next day last year.
But this evening the desire to talk to him was so strong I very nearly picked up the phone to call him. Itís ironic that the journal entry for "one year ago today" yesterday was "Vet-erans", which talks about some of our veterinary experiences. It especially tells the story of Paul and his cat, Scab, whom he and Audra rescued from the UCD Veterinary Hospital when someone brought it in after it had been set on fire by some sadist who thought it would be funny to burn a tiny kitten.
I wonít go through the whole story, because I did that a year ago. But I just watched a news report about a cat who is recovering in a local vet hospital. Some other sadist decided it would be fun to attach some fireworks to the cat and set them off. The poor cat was found by its owner, severely injured, and was rushed off to the vet hospital. The vet said it was the worst case of animal abuse heíd seen (though the cat looks in better shape than Scab did, I have to say).
When I saw the story, I wanted to rant and rave to someone. To Paul. Because Paul felt such incredible fury at the people who set a tiny kitten on fire and because he was so incredulous that Scab had been able to trust people again. He did a whole section of his last show on the damage that had been done to Scab and his anger about it.
I wanted to talk to him about how itís impossible for me to understand how someone can take a helpless animal and deliberately hurt it. What fun is there in watching an animal in agony, agony that you yourself have caused? What kind of sick mind finds pleasure in that?
For that matter, what sort of sick mind would lock a toddler in a closet for several years, as was reported in the news recently.
I donít understand abuse of helpless things and it scares me that we seem to be hearing about it more and more.
But then I donít understand a lot of things these days. I miss having Paul around to sit and talk about it. And I miss the middle of the night philosophy discussions with David. The two of them seemed to be on a quest to find the answers to lifeís imponderable questions. Maybe they realized they were on a tighter timeline than the rest of us and needed to learn more in a shorter period of time.
Now I suppose they know the answers. Sometimes I wish theyíd come back and clue me in.
Mostly, I just wish theyíd come back period.
Some pictures from this
Created 7/5/01 by Bev Sykes