Tuesday, February 03, 2004

Rosa's Birthday approaching...

I spent last night writing.

Actually, I spent a great deal of it smoking. I was with Keith, smoking, and then I was sitting alone, smoking, and then Tim called... so it's all his fault I was smoking.

What can I tell you? I started sleeping again once all my depression left my subconscious and wedged itself painfully in the front of my head! But I've been working on denial to help me through. You know, keeping busy. First of all, I finally have everything together for my bodily injury claim, going back to last May when I got whiplash. Annie, who is a lawyer, has offered to help me out.

I also did plenty of dishes and ironing last night.

But on to the writing. You see, someone who was a great inspiration to me died recently. It is believed that he took his own life. His name was Spalding Grey.

Spalding Grey grew up in a very different time from myself and under very different circumstances. I discovered him shortly before Rosa and I split up and bought his CD, A Slippery Slope, around the time I was driving north. The CD is a monologue about how Spalding Grey made this terrible mistake the ruined his marriage - which actually turned out to be a good thing. I guess, in a way, it gave me hope. It was Spalding Grey who inspired me to perform my monologues, such as "Is it a Sin to Lick a Burrito" and "Driving North", which led me back into theater, which led to me writing plays.

I owe him a debt, which cannot be paid.

Instead, I wrote to a friend of his who also has a Blog and who has been writing about Spalding, working through his disappearance and death cathartically, you might say. I wanted to share with someone who knew Spalding and who was hurting over his loss just how much this person meant to me.

I've found that helping ease someone else's pain often eases my own.

And is it a surprise I'm hurting again? Rosa's birthday is Thursday. She'll be 37. Another year without her light, without her heart. Another year of our youth, of our lives, squandered away, frittered, thrown out.

Last year, I was taking her to orchid shows. This year, she wants nothing to do with me. My only sin, so far as I can tell, has been loving her.

I want to send her a card but don't know if I should.

And so I sit around, smoke, a feel sad, trying to decide.


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