Intrusive Thoughts
September 22, 2023
This morning James and I biked up to Joe and the Juice and as I was sipping my tea I had an intrusive thought and I shuddered and James asked me what happen and I told him I’d just had a memory from 1996 when a couple I was friends with was wasted so they decided not to drive home so I told them they could sleep in my room and I’d sleep somewhere else but I was also wasted and I’d forgotten that I’d gotten my period and had kicked off my bloody underwear and pantyhose and flung them into the corner of my room and two minutes later the couple came out and said they’d changed their minds and were going home and I went into my room and discovered my strewn about bloody undergarments and was embarrassed and this was the random thought that came to me over tea with my husband at Joe and the Juice this morning, which I told him about in all its detailed glory, and he shook his head in wonder as that is not the way his brain works. My kid and I share similar flavors of neurospice but James is wired differently. Fortunately we both love and are truly fascinated by each other’s brains in all their wondrous complexities. I don’t know too many people who are as compatible as James and I are, and for that I am eternally grateful. He is the Maude to my Harold.
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I saw Harold and Maude at the Eye Museum earlier this week, which I haven’t seen since the 90s. It was amazing to see on the big screen. I did not grasp even an iota of what this film was about the first time I watched it. I honestly think it’s one of the top 5 movies I’ve ever seen. Everything, everything about it is a work of art, but I am absolutely obsessed with the costume design. I want someone to make me the crushed velvet pantsuit Ruth Gordon wears when she plays the piano and sings and dances. It’s exquisite.
It’s fittingly witchy in Amsterdam this Autumnal Equinox. I took a walk and admired the houses in my neighborhood.
My last couple of blogs have worried the mothers. I heard from two separate mothers who wrote to me over the angst level in my last posts. “She likes to share,” is what my mother in law said to my husband. And it’s true. For whatever reason, I like to write about the weird details of my life and mind. I love to tell stories and I have some doozies, but most of them get lost in the ether, tweeted and deleted or blurted out to friends in smoky bars. “Did I ever tell you about the time…” is my favorite thing to say. It is for this reason that I am traveling to NYC in November where I am going to work on a writing project with a writing friend whose work I love. She’s been a champion of my writing and storytelling, in all its scattered majesty, and together we are going to see if I can craft a cohesive narrative for my tales.
I am so excited about this trip. I haven’t been back to NYC in probably a decade. So far the only planning I’ve done is texting my friends all the foods I want to eat. I’m excited to write and collaborate in person with a fellow artist and I’m excited to see old friends and to finally meet twitter friends in person and to walk my legs off and eat everything in sight. Today is the autumn equinox and the weather changed in Amsterdam and I can already feel my SAD knocking at my mind’s door and having this trip to look forward to is doing excellent things for my mental health. So don’t fret, mothers! It’s all going to be okay.
xoxo
Summer is over. We biked over to Shrimpy and deflated the paddle boards.