Jacqui (jacqui) wrote,

9-3-04 Sunday Afternoon at Scott's

*Enjoying My Alone Time* *Rooting for Vampires and Dragons* *Loving My Scott and His Music* *Getting Fun and Filthy at the Petting Zoo* *Jay Mohr and Saturday Night Live* *Petting Dogs and Dealing With Snobby Dog Owners*

I'm at Scott's house in the valley. I spent Friday and Saturday nights here. It feels really odd being away from home for this long -- being away from Beau and the cats. I feel guilty and anxious and have to calm my fears. I am really enjoying being here. I just hope Scott can get over his depression and fear -- his need to have everything be perfect and new RIGHT NOW -- and start to appreciate his new home, the many possibilities he has here, how much better it is than his old place. But I understand how hard this is for him, what a leap of faith it is for him to do this and how scary it must seem. I just wish he could focus a little bit more on the positive and a lot less on the negatives, but who am I to give advice, this just might be his way of working through scary stuff, by getting depressed about it, who knows.

Scott just left to work on his music, (My darling man, he's so talented, so gifted, all I can do is pray he's found the right group of people to work with on this album. I so believe in him and want him to succeed. It kills me to think of how many of us there are out here, super talented, gifted people who aren't making it, and who give up before they are able to earn a living doing their art), eating a quiche and listening to our new kitten Tom, (Tom Tom, Tom Kitten, Tom Cat, Tom Thumb, Tommy Boy,) mew at me. Now he's eating a bit of the quiche and licking my legs.

Scott's new TV, his cable, and his Internet set up are so much better than ours, wow, he's got everything, and it's fast. When it comes to electronics and computers, like most people, I like fast.

I'm enjoying being somewhere where very few people can reach me or even know that I am, where I am just slightly out of reach of the ringing phone and the constant demands of my Mother, Beau, and all of the other people who always need me to do something. It feels good after all of the busyness of late to just sit here on this couch watching a really bad seventies vampire movie -- Captain Kronos the Vampire Slayer, and have it be okay that I'm wasting time like this.

A handsome young British captain of some kind just slew some bad guys in a tavern. The baddest of the baddies died in the most melodramatic way -- so melodramatic it was balletic. I love vampire movies, vampire movies and movies with dragons or monsters. The problem is, I always identify with the vampires and the dragons and hate to see them slain. I feel sorry for them. Remember the movie Dragon Slayer, I think that was the name of it, well, I didn't really give a damn about the virginous princess who had replaced all of the names of the village women in the lottery and was doomed to death by fire breathing dragon, not really, what I cared about was the dragon and the dragon's baby who I did not want to see murdered by some upstart wannabe knight in shining armour.

Despite all of it's cheesy 1970s badness, this one is kind of fun "They made sport of me. They laughed at me. Am I so terribly ugly?" "Still there's nothing like a leach or two, a little bloodletting to cool a man's veins." Whoops spoke too soon -- very lame, super bad special effects, vampire bat attack. It looked like someone bought a really cheap bat at some after Halloween sale at Long's Drugs and just kind of tossed it into the shot where the requisite sexy, screaming maiden, with an ample heaving bosom grabbed it's crepe paper wings and pretended to attack herself with it...to the death. That shot of her bloody dying hand convulsively flexing against a spooky background of spindly bare trees and a grey sky was priceless.

I really love my Scott. It's been so good being able to spend time with him somewhere more comfortable than either my house or his old apartment. I had stopped going there ages ago when it became too sad and depressing there for me. It's hard to explain, it just felt dark and smoky and dirty and there wasn't anywhere for me to sit or be comfortable, plus I felt guilty leaving Beau and maybe there was some left over energy and guilt from the end of my marriage with Robby because some of that took place while Scott was living there. Now here it's like having a fresh start without any of the clutter and poison of either of our previous relationships. Here at least he has a new bed and a couch where I can sit and the dust hasn't started to build up like it always does. I've been enjoying helping him start his nesting.

I've been reading Jay Mohr's book, Gasping For Airtime, (actually I just finished it), about his two seasons on Saturday Night Live. Even though he kind of seems like a whiny ungrateful baby, (I would have said bitch, because it would have made Beau and Phil laugh, but I'm starting to think this word upsets my gal pals too much), I'm surprised at how much I can relate to his experience, and I imagine it's probably pretty universal for any artist, let alone comics who are notoriously neurotic and insecure. But I wouldn't know anything about that.

At one point he writes about how bad he felt when he came back after his first season to see all of the cast pictures assembled along the hallway walls and couldn't find one single shot of himself. I know that heartbreak intimately. It's happened to me, not at Rockefeller Center on Saturday Night Live but at a theatre I cared deeply about and was so happy to have been a part of. It was like being erased from history and it hurt so much. I feel sorry for him but at the same time he seems like such a baby in some ways, unable to make the most of this incredible opportunity he was given. Apparently having been treated much worse than Jay Mohr when he started, Mike Myers just set up shop on the floor in front of the elevators and did all of his writing and character development for his first two years right there on the floor. It sure seems like a pretty dysfunctional operation though and having been watching Saturday Night Live since high school, and we're talking twenty plus years or more here, (I swear I can't add it up right now because it's too upsetting for me, the whole aging thing), I love being let in a bit, getting to peek behind the curtain so to speak.

Yesterday I got up early and went to some local garage sales. I found some nice bedspreads and a table for Scott, some clothes and a stuffed toy for my Mother's housekeeper's daughter who has been through hell having been caught and detained after having crossed the border illegally. I also found a few things to resell, we'll see if I ever get around to it, I sure a shit hope I do because I am really worried about money while I continue to spend it, bla.

I had fun driving around and familiarizing myself with the area. I'm starting to get a feel for some of the street names and learning where things are. It has been feeling a little like being lost in a foreign city to me, even though it's only a half hour from home. I never come here so it is foreign, to me at least. I went to The Farm again, the petting zoo on Tampa. There were loads of big black crows picking the black walnuts out of the trees. they dropped some on my car and I had to kind of weave back and forth as I walked from my car to the petting zoo to avoid getting hit by them. I opened one up and was surprised at how strong the color of the juice was, it stained my fingers a dark yellowy umber color that made me think it must be an ingredient in an oil paint somewhere.

I got there just as they opened so I was one of the first people to go in. There was a big pig named Jolly blocking the entrance that everyone had to step around or over. The big waddling pregnant goats were the first to greet me with my enormous bucket of food. I bought a bucket so I wouldn't have to keep going back for refills but I soon realized this was a mistake when I was suddenly surrounded by goats, sheep, llamas, a donkey and a very old horse all fighting each other to get their heads in my bucket and stepping on my feet. When I would pull it up and away from them they would take their feet and pull it back down. Finally I figured out I could put it up on this shed roof, which was just out of the llamas reach, and I could refill my cups from there.

If I had thought the day the llama sneezed on me was bad, in terms of how dirty I got, this was much, much worse. The sweet old horsey-pie who was thirty-five whopping years old -- I think that's really old -- kept chewing the food into slimy green bits and then dropping them all over me. But who could get mad at this wonderful old guy. I was just so glad to be able to hug and pet him. He wanted the food so badly and he was so much bigger than everyone else and would eat so much more that I finally gave up on trying to protect my clothes in any way and filled up my skirt for him.

In the end my clothes were so gross that my skirt was one big slobbery dirt covered thing and my white shirt was beige with brown spots. I knew I wasn't going to be going home, where I'd be able to change into clean clothes, for a long while and I smelled and looked so bad that I just couldn't stand it so I went to the local mall for an emergency clothing replacement trip. Luckily Macy's was having a sale so I bought a jean skirt with silver snaps all up the front the keeps coming undone every time I get up or sit down so it's really only good for one thing -- letting "someone rip it off you" -- and a light green tee-shirt. Then I had fun playing in the makeup and perfume departments and went to the Body Shop and bought a couple of their Body Butters, and some of these inexpensive perfume mixer bottles that let you customize your own scent, yum.

All in all, despite the fact that I was exhausted from not having slept much and having had to get up early for garage sales, I had a pretty good time. I met some people who were having a garage sale and were selling their house. They were asking for half of what my house is worth but it had four times the amount of land and it's zoned for animals. I could have a horse, a goat, pigs, sheep, geese, whatever I wanted and no one would ever be able to threaten us, but I don't see myself making the big move just yet, despite the fantasy. I liked pretending that I could move here though, liked the idea of living close to Scott, being able to send Beau to this school here that I like, the lack of traffic, the abundance of parking, and the ease of livability, as a friend of a friend who moved away calls it. But I don't like the look of the city, the flatness, the sort of dry brown color, and the heat.

I don't know why it should surprise me, after all of these years of living, how much I enjoy being alone in my own company. Well, maybe I really don't like being alone because Lord knows I clutter my life up with other lives and things to keep me distracted, but like a lot of Aries I seem to need a good deal of alone time and when I get it I definitely enjoy it. At the same time I love connecting and making friends with people.

I saw the most gorgeous Chinese Crested doggies yesterday. They were coming out of Petco and their owner was actually friendly and generous with her time. This doesn't happen in my neighborhood. If someone has a pair of three thousand dollar dogs around here, they feel superior and can't make the time to chat, at least that's been my experience with a lot of the snobby, mean dog owners I've run into near my home. It doesn't stop me from wanting to pet every dog I see though. I just keep risking rejection by their owners, the worst being when someone completely ignores their dog and you and drags their poor dog away by a short leash. I just don't get why people are like this. If you have a cute dog and you take it out to a public place, chances are very good that people are going to want to stop you and pet your dog.

My ex used to love all the attention he got when he took our Salukis out. I think that might have been a big reason why he liked them so much. Well, that and the fact that they were overly refined, hyper sensitive, easily spooked, super high maintenance, sporty, fast, fear biting thoroughbreds -- all qualities he himself embodied or embraced.

Saluki owners tend to think they are better than other people. They believe their dogs are the oldest and finest breed and will regularly tell you that Arabs, who are fastidious when it comes to animals, would not only allow them in their tents, but would pamper them by feeding them dates by hand. This totally worked for him. He loved to feel superior, probably because despite his mother's having constantly told him he was as handsome as any male model and should be an actor, there was a part of him that felt inferior and needed props, like expensive dogs, to prop him up. He got sooo much attention from women, and appreciative dog validation from the men, that he was forever looking for opportunities to walk them in crowded places, like art fairs and farmers markets.

I love Chinese Cresteds because they are so freaky and unusual looking and they have these high strung super intelligent personalities, so I have to wonder what this says about me. Could I be projecting onto them? Do I feel freaky, unique, unusual and high strung? Maybe. I've always like unique special things, so why wouldn't it be the same with dogs? I also love Great Danes. I think Great Danes are my favorite of all dogs. With dogs, unlike cocks, it's the bigger the better with me. Not that big isn't good, but thick is definitely better than really long, and as with Snow White, just right is much better than too big or too small. Did I just make you spit up your tea or coffee there? Did I scare a few dozen of my faithful readers away? Ah well, I warned you. Maybe I should throw a This is Not Work Safe warning up on my info page. I definitely need to edit and revise it, it's so out of date.

Well, I've really rambled on and on here, my battery is dying, the vampires have long since been staked through their hearts and I should clean up a bit before I go. I'd like to build Scott's TV cabinet for him since I can tell he's feeling intimidated by the whole thing -- all those little parts, it feels overwhelming. Maybe he'll cheer up a little bit if I make it for him and he'll have it off his list of things he'd dreading having to do.

Talk to you later hugs,
Your Pal -- Jacqui
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