Letters to Donna/from 6-14-06

6-14-06

Good Morning My Baby –

Hope to get some $$ from my ebay guy when I take a day on the 22nd and go up there. Also, I called Phil and am going down to Southie to talk to his office manager about…something, maybe nothing. Phil remembers my reliability, and so I might actually get something out of this. It may be early morning or late night….Hell, I’m almost desperate.

Had another of my odd notions last night. I acknowledge that you made me a better man, a better person. Could I have done the same (well, OK, a better woman then) for you? Could I have made you more honest, less materialistic, more patient and forgiving? The only one besides J. or Betts — and I wouldn’t want to broach the subject with either since it seems very self-serving and compliment-fishing to trust any response I might get from them — I could ask is Lisa. And I may.

6-15-06

Good Morning Sweetheart –

Have hit a long-overdue poker slump. Last night, this morning, nothing. Two A-K, two losses, et al. Won’t be bragging for a while.

Lisa finally took the Next Logical Step with one of her swains. Now comes the riskiest part: guy gets what he wants, what now? Is he most interested in conquest, orgasms or Lisa? The first, Lisa gets hurt. The second: up to her. Can she take something primarily physical without emotional depth? Third option: home run.

Went down to US Express (nee: Boston Package) to meet Tom the Office Manager, and old pal Victor (you remember him? We went to his house  in Watertown once or twice, and got some nice Chinese stuff through him — now, alas, sold. Chinese wife. Bad stairs. Glad to go home. Remember?) I might end up covering phones for them on a weeknight or weekend day. Phil did remember my reliability and gave the word to try to find something for me.

Odd feeling being there. Dingy no-frills office — a dump, really — bitchy drivers, incessant macho-soaked bullshit, Victor stuttering, drivers banging in on the radio, the phones going — an d it’s slow. I’d need a refresher course in their computer system. But I believe I could work through it. Just feels like I’ve regressed. Just living dime to dime is to to me a regression. I’m in a different place emotionally — better, despite your death — and that difference makes a huge difference. But still must do what I must do.

I know you wouldn’t be happy about this. You never trusted Phil, liked the craziness, the late hours, the pressure. You’d be unhappy if I had to wake up during the night to deal with some job. You’d really be unhappy if I went out and did the job myself.

Well, Phil’s a known quantity. I know where he can be trusted and where he can’t, and have the advantage of not needing the job to survive, which robs him of power over me.

As for the hours, that and my labor are all I have to trade for money, and since I have no one to share my tme with, it doesn’t much matter if I lose a night or not (I do anyway with insomnia). I can make up the sleep or take a day from ECS if I have to. If you were alive I wouldn’t even be considering it. But you’re not and I have to survive financially. If you’re really pissed by this, find some way of letting me know (ha ha.). I won’t screw myself up too much, don’t worry. I just have to support myself. 

6-16-06

Good Morning Baby!

  When I arrived home last night I called out, “Hi, Baby, I’m home!” and half-waited for your “Hi Baby!” response, that always was so wonderful to hear because it was drenched in affection — god, wasn’t that a welcome! You made me feel so good to be home with you, baby –

Of course, the response didn’t come, as I knew it wouldn’t, and of course I had to remind myself that it’ll never come again. So I had a good cry.

And I wasn’t done. Was watching a program on George Gershwin, who died having his brain tumor operated on. The program said that his last song, which he didn’t finish but was completed by his brother Ira, was “Our Love is Here to Stay,” one of my favorite and most beautiful of Gershwin’s songs. Baby, if there’s ever a gathering to celebrate your life, I intend to sing “Our Love is Here to Stay” as my farewell lovesong to you:

                     It’s very clear, our love is here to stay

                     Not for a year, but ever and a day

                     The radio and the telephone and the movies that we know

                     May just be passing fancies and in time may go

                     But oh my dear, our love is here to stay

                     Together we’re going a long long way

                     In time the Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble

                     They’re only made of clay, but

                     Our love is here to stay.

I tried singing it last night. I was awful. Have to work on the breathing. And not bursting into tears in the middle. Which I did. Big time.

I miss you, my love. Don’t think I’ll ever stop.

Sindy called. Got sideswiped by a 14-wheeler dump truck. Has a concussion, whiplash, damage to the neck and hands. Is lucky to be alive and credits God with being with her. So why didn’t He prevent the accident?

By the way: don’t worry that my finding “Our Love is Here to Stay” will make me forget your song. No way. You’re worth more than one song. Hell, you’re worth more than a friggin’ symphony (and 63,047 operas)! At this point my idea for your song is: where does the beauty go when the butterfly dies? It stays where you put it: in my heart.

6-17-06

Good Evening My Love –

Warm to hot, but not too humid. The heat got to Janet, reminding me of your problems with temperature extremes.

Got my haircut. You’d have missed my wavy locks, such as they are, but you’d like the way my head feels with the hair (both of ‘em) very short. Makes my turkey neck look worse, though.

Have had a better day emotionally, as a certain Gershwin song is leaving me be, at least for today. Lisa doesn’t know “Our Love is Here to Stay,” so I’ll sing it to her when — I assume — I talk to her tomorrow, Father’s Day. For my part, I’ll try to remember Charlie.

Sindy called early, sounded better, but says she’s got a lot of physical problems. At least she’s getting a lawyer. Don’t ask me for details because I couldn’t keep track of them.

Also talked to Betts, who was in one of her self-delusional phases. She’s in contact again with her John, who’s back with that creature we saw him with years ago — you know, the one Betts said was so good for him, and who helped him go through all that money, for drugs. But, of course, that wouldn’t happen again, would it? Of course it will, but Betts prefers to believe otherwise….She also saw Sylvia Browne on Montel Williams, and Browne talked about smelling departed ones’ perfume, getting calls with no one there, and all that hoo-raw. So Betts shortly after got a call with a blocked caller ID, and when she picked it up no one was there.  A hundred reasonable explanations, but Betts prefers to believe it’s Red. Hey, we have a line at work dedicated to I don’t know what, and it’s always ringing but no lights light up. Is it you? No. Phone Co. said it’s just an installation screw-up.

And why would a dead person trying to reach a living person use a phone and then not be there? Other, less ambiguous ways of communicating. But if you want to believe, anything will suffice. Jeez. Guess I’m just mad because I haven’t heard from you….

Lisa and boyfriend still going hot and heavy. He’s probably not just in it for conquest because he’d already be backing off by now. He’s been good to her. Let’s see if it lasts.

6-18-06

Good Afternoon, My Dearly, Dearly Beloved –

Happy Father’s Day to me.

Day is hot but not oppressive. Humidity isn’t too bad. No particular sea breeze yet, but one’s supposed to come.

Slept till noon. Lovely. Probably will be up half the night tonight, but, oh well.

Had a long talk with Lisa. Right now — get back to me tomorrow (please?) — she’s handling things well, enjoying the ride, being cautious but not too cautious, letting things come (in more ways than one) to her. Hope that lasts, and that Jim doesn’t turn out to be a jerk. If he does, we’re in for a rough ride. But if it goes OK, the benefits will be huge. She’s already beginning to realize that she was treated worse by Cliff and G. than she believed.

Lisa thinks that by my saying no to you when you were inclined to go too far with a thing, I made you a better person. Hope she’s right. I sung her (shakily) “Our Love is Here to Stay.” We talked about her, mostly, but me — and you — some. And I remembered your delight at anything I brought you, and how wonderful it was — to have a gift so enthusiastically received. I’d been thinking a bit about how important it is to make a woman feel special and attractive. Little gifts make a woman feel special — c.f., the little pair of chocolates I bring Janet, as plain and asexual a creature (though I like her) she is. And Lisa reminded me of the nightgowns I bought you, always with two things in mind: to keep you comfortable, so important when you suffer as much as you did; and to make you feel at least a little bit pretty — thus the bits of lace trim and pretty patterns — so important when your body is deteriorating as much as yours did.

And I cried….Gotta stop some time!!

Did think of Charlie a couple of times on Father’s Day. Just didn’t think very much of him.

6-20-06

Good Evening Baby –

Yesterday was sick. GI tract, of course, which aggravated the back. And I think I was emotionally exhausted too, what with “Our Love is Here to Stay” and all. Didn’t even want to play poker. Spent most of the day in bed, reading and watching tv. Even blew off drawing class. Today started rough; didn’t feel even close to right until the afternoon. Some hip pain too, with the usual groin tenderness. Just two difficult days.

Lisa sent me a very nice Father’s Day card. “Thank you for being my dad. You’ve brought so much to my life and taught me so much about what it means to be a good human. We’ve had lots of ups and downs, and I’m grateful for all of them because they’ve added up to the relationship we have now: one that I treasure beyond words. I love you!!”

Nice, huh?

I’m getting tired of/embarrassed about crying. I do it too much. I don’t want to stop, I just want to cry less. Both Lisa and Andy Chase said it wasn’t a problem, but last week with “Our Love” I just made myself miserable, over and over. It’s like I get something stuck in my head and it takes too long to unstick it. I’ve been remembering that heartbreaking haircut, and if I let myself dwell on it I’ll be miserable all over again.

6-21-06

Good Morning My Love –

Decent sleep last night; so far so good re: health.

Lisa sent a terrific picture. Besides the weight loss, her face benefits from darker hair, a good off-shoulder length, a style that covered much of her problematic forehead without making her look like she had none. Eyes benefit too, esp. from the hair color, as does her skin. Perfect smile. Great picture.

I haven’t said it lately, but: I love you, my darling, I always will, and it’s taken all these months to describe how much I miss you, how huge a hole you’ve left in my life, and I still haven’t finished yet.

Andy (C) read Andy (H) via tarot cards last week. Indiscreetly, Andy (C) told me some of what he saw, beginning with his buttoned-down, bloodless mindset (anally fixated? I bet!), with little room for spontaneity or improv. But hey, we all knew that, with or without tarot cards. Andy (C) also said he saw another man in Andy (H)’s future. I hope after Dan is gone. As I thought about it, two things turned me around re: Andy (H). One: he’s become more of a team player at work. Two: he’s stood by Dan. His loyalty is surprisingly important to me. I like Dan OK, though he’s a bit of a shambles and I wouldn’t like to eavesdrop on his toilette, if you follow. But — funny — I don’t want the ill, the frail, the old to be abandoned/betrayed/let down by their loved ones. If Andy (H) sticks it out with Dan to the inevitable end, I’ll admire him greatly. If he doesn’t….

Ran into John Levesque, whom we visited in Randolph a couple of times. 3 girls, nice wife, but I forget her name. He got fed up with Phil, who always treated his truckers worse than his drivers — why? Never could figure — and now hates his guts. He’s been jumping from company to company, whichever has the Fidelity account. Don’t see how anyone can survive as an owner-operator with these gas prices.  But his girls are 13, 15 and 16, and he can’t relocate, and other than trucking — and being away from home — what can he do? The black hole in his resume is at least 20 years big. Glad I escaped that trap.

He says Clancy went into a limo business with his brother who pulled out on him, and Clancy started drinking more and got caught DUI. Fini limo business. He got a job at Lowe’s and has emigrated to North Carolina where, Levesque says, he’s happy.

Today was a much better day physically. Good. I had some salmon from the 9s that didn’t seem particularly fresh; I ate about a quarter of it and expected the worst today. Didn’t happen, and I’m glad!

The apartment did OK during the hot snap. Warm but not uncomfortable. Didn’t have to use the fan. Don’t believe I’ll need to buy any a.c. The few miserable days I’ll tough out. Am trying to get into the habit of airing the place out in the morning and, if it’s not too humid (as it isn’t today) I might leave ‘em open all day. The place needs it!

Talked to Betts, John and Sindy this evening.

Betts is just all in love with her dog, whom she kinda admitted she preferred to Precious I (whatever the name was) because P. I couldn’t be left alone. P. II can. And she feels so soft — you’d love her, Betts says. Hey, you might. I just didn’t feel patient with Betts tonight. She means well….But she talked about MWRA and her semi-iffy disability, and loving “retirement” and not being able to do a day’s work any more, and sounded so pleased to be saying it. I just wish she was a little embarassed.

John rattled on. Pierce has a girlfriend, name I forget, but will try to remember because you’ll want to know it. Talkative little girl, apparently. John asked Pierce if he intended to marry her. “No,” Pierce said. “I’m ging to marry Mommie.” John’s big flip project’s on the market for the low to mid $800K, with no takers yet, and John may change agents. The smaller project, a 6-unit, is in rehab. He’s heard the state will pay landlords $1500 @ to rent to sex offenders and is considering it, once the units are habitable. Risky. But maybe they could all offend each other. After that project’s resolved he plans to take a month or two and finish his kitchen, which hasn’t been right for over a year. Nina must me a very patient woman.

The rest was B.S.

I mentioned you several times.

Sindy I’m worried about. Her concussion has developed some serious symptoms. Dizziness, memory loss, disorientation, panic, maybe vomiting blood, spots before the eyes, pain. She’s seeing a doctor and lawyer and the case looks good, but she’s drinking and she shouldn’t. She should be in the hospital, or at the very least taken care of. That person in Nashua she calls Mom may be able to go up there, and if necessary I’ll bring her up myself, Sat. or Sun.

Did I tell you I’m taking off tomorrow? I am. Will deposit some change in the bank — $118!! — and go see my ebay guy, put some more stuff on ebay and get a check! Walk some, maybe.

Again when I came home I imagined calling out “I’m home, baby!” and your saying “You’re home, baby!” in that delighted way you often did, as if it was a big deal, and of course that will never happen again, and I cried hard and got mad at myself. That’s the kind of crying I need to avoid: the self-inflicted kind.

Letters to Donna/from 6-7-06

6-7-06

Good Morning My Love –

This morning I’m a bit of a hurtin’ pup. I actually walked about 7 miles yesterday, to and from J.P., plus the noon walk to the P.O., and my back, hip and legs ache, and my groin’s grumpy. Will do a half-day at work–very slow, no harm done. Was on the heating pad last night and will return today. I actually am better than I thought I’d be, but I’ll minimize my walking at least till Friday.

One reason I took inventory of your presence in my bedroom (by the way, I forgot to include — which I have draped over the gold-flecked mini-bureau — your rag snake we got a zillion years ago, where? At the Brockton Fair? I couldn’t bear to get rid of it) was: while watching an H & G show, I saw someone use one of those fits-all slipcovers and make it look almost professional. How? Little pins, like those plastic-topped bulletinboard push pins, but with a tiny corkscrew instead of a straight pin. Called “twist pins.” As you tuck and fold the slipcover, keeping tucks and folds out of sight, you anchor them onto the chair/sofa with these pins, which are permanent. Wish we’d known about ‘em 3-4 years ago: we could’ve slipcovered that couch. You’d have loved ‘em!

When I prepared to go back to Patrick’s yesterday afternoon and wished Craig was still here so I could catch a ride, I realized it was the first time I’d missed him. And I thought that one of the sources of Craig’s problems was his belief that he was special, superior, because of his smarts, looks and talent. And he remains constantly upset that not only is the world very slow to acknowledge his superiority, but those close to him don’t treat him with the deference and honor he believes he deserves. (People are so strange: alongside this arrogant Craig lives a nice, responsive decent Craig who’s very good company. And under both those Craigs is a hideously insecure Craig that sees betrayal everywhere.)

There was a time I thought like Craig, to some extent. I believed my intelligence made me superior. Source: Jane. Of course I was also the worst person in the world — source: Jane — or why was I getting beaten all the time? But by my mid- to late-teens I was an arrogant prick. The Army, or people I met in it, and my genius for screwing up my life, undermined that arrogance somewhat and you did the rest. I had to learn that intelligence is just a tool, not a value. You could use it for good, like Freddie did, or evil, like Mark Leuken did. Just like a hammer: use it to build a house or smash a skull. Intelligence didn’t make me a good person; I had to earn that.

And in the process I came to respect and admire those who, though less fortunate than I, nevertheless struggled and perservered and made good people of themselves, with good lives. You. Freddie. De., as far as I can tell. These were two of the most important of my life lessons: goodness must be earned, and the struggles of people born (or put) behind the 8-ball must be respected.

For Craig, like some women born beautiful, his gifts are almost a curse. He should devalue them, find the hardest thing he ever accomplished — the thing that did not come easily — determined why it was hard, and be proud of that. Perhaps that’ll help him appreciate more the less gifted.

I’ll also be interested in how, if he has another child, he’ll handle sibling rivalry as a parent. He sure hasn’t handled it well as a sibling.

By the way, I paid Patrick $300, $100 more than I expected. Ouch.

Here’s a little item that puts the lie to the President. He’s been going on about ending our “addiction” to oil. OK, he’s an oil man, but maybe $3+ a gallon has made him see the light. Right? Not! Bank of America, Timberland and at least one other large employer are offering employees $3K if they buy a new gas-saving hybrid car. Great idea — and the government should be offering tax incentives to those who buy hybrids. Right? Not! Tax what you want to discourage, give incentives for what you want to encourage.

Which is why the government will treat that $K as income, and tax it.

I love you–

                                                        L.

6-8-06

Good Morning My Best Baby –

Strange on the surface that a woman so strong, so tough would find such warmth and comfort in being my Best Baby. But in Donna Boyce, tough broad and little girl lived side by side, and I’m proud that I helped with that accommodation.

Took half a day yesterday. Work very slow, Larry very sore. More heating pad time, and my back’s not bad today. Left hip sore, everything stiff. Wouldn’t mind being home today either, though I’ll stick it out. More heavy rain yesterday — 6″ in some places — with a gloomy damp day today and another deluge tomorrow. I don’t think the dampness is helping me any. So I won’t help it!

Got two old-friend calls last night, one good, one not. Betts is delighted with her new dog Millie (I asked, “Don’t you have a friend Millie?” “Yes.” “What color is Canine Millie?” “White.” “Call her Millie Vanillie.”) At this point she couldn’t be happier.

Sindy is another story. First, of course, I had to deal with the usual problem when Sindy gets going: keeping track of who’s who. I think if she’s going to make these calls she should email a cast of characters, their backgrounds and relationships. Probably run to ten pages.

OK, let’s see: she had to put down a cat, who was as old as Tai; Andy’s down to 124 lbs, has limited strength, and she expects him to die soon; some relatives (I think) are so strung out on heroin they’re totally neglecting their five kids, the oldest of whom is a budding pyromaniac. She continues not to feel well and may have to undergo a nasal/sinus scraping to see if spores have taken up residence inside her. Two courses of antibiotics have only made her sicker. She’s blue, feeling, overwhelmed, lacking in support. The five kinds’ situation really hurts because calling in the State may prove just as bad. I asked her to call this weekend. Not much I can do for her. Suggested she check with her church for leads other than the State for the five kids.

And of course she’s money-strapped.

Was able to gt the draft of “The Fever Dream” typed into the computer; I now have a hard copy to edit. Have no sense of its merits.

Was thinking of the expression “false pretenses.” Wondering if I’d ever encountered a true pretense. Perhaps, like Diogenes, I should  carry a lantern and search the world for an honest pretense. And if I find one, celebrate with a dinner of jumbo shrimp.

Well, I got my paycheck, and the raise gives me, in hand, $42. more a week. A bit disappointing. So I need another job.

6-9-06

Good Afternoon My Love –

Hip sore. Will just have to baby the thing this weekend and hope it forgives me by Tuesday.

Not much to tell you. Lisa may have narrowed her plethora of swains to 2 or 3. It must be nearing the time when she’ll be under pressure from swain, and her own sense of these things, to consummate. That’s a real danger point, if things go poorly.

We shall see…

I’ve been keeping track of which poker table I play at, how I do there, and how much I win or lose in a day. Tables “France 7″ and “France 9″ like me most right now; I lose on France 3 & 6. Won over 50K so far this week. Rare, so far, that I lose in a day — only once in 12 days so far. Couple of days have been breakeven: winnings under 1K.

This record/stats-keeping is a mild sign of obsession for me. Have done this kind of thing since I was about 12 or 13 and invented a baseball game I could play in my room. (I told you about it: pieces of paper with plays — single, fly out, strike out, home run et al — on them. Put ‘em in a plastic storage container, shake ‘em up — the sound would drive Jane crazy — and play ball. I made four teams out of friends and acquaintances, formed a league and kept all the stats. Played that game for hours at a time.) And I’ve noticed that when I get obsessed by anything game-like, I end up keeping records over which I slave, then when the obsession wanes I feel foolish and dump the stats.

Poker fits this obsession very well, because there are so many stats you can keep. I’ve already studied how often getting a suited pair leads to a win in Texas Hold ‘Em — damn few — and how often you win when you flop two pair (about 2/3 of the time). Now I’m analyzing table success. Obsession. But I’m not worried. I’m still doing the ADLs I’m supposed to, and poker is a fine distraction and boredome-beater. And I still hope I can get onto a money table some day.

My game still has deficiencies. I still have a blind spot for flushes, though I’m a bit better. But I should never miss a possible flush draw on the board, and I still do. Get wrapped up in pairs, forget to check suits. I still fold too often. I’ve improved that by seeing 10- and 20-chip preflop bets, as well as cheap bets deeper into the hand, unless I’m sure I can’t win. That’s helped me catch the occasional set or two pair, hands I’d previously watch come in after I’ve folded.

I’ve also learned that any pocket pair is strong if you’re against only one player, and is OK against two, though you must be cautious. I’m becomming more committed to the idea of trying to win a hand at the point I feel I’m ahead in it, rather than always slow-playing. Better to win fewer chips than to let an opponent luck out on the turn or river, and take the pot away from me. I do need to bet more early when the pot size is small and my hand is strong. I also need to recognize an agressive table and check more when my hand is strong, let overagressive players trap themselves.

I’m bluffing a bit more. The best way is with few bettors, raise pre-flop, then if the flop isn’t an obvious no-bluff (3 of a suit, 3 in a row, 3 of a kind etc.) and no one shows great strength, bet the pot after thde flop and again at the turn. Checks and calls will tell you if you can continue; if your opponent raises, on Fun Money tables, you probably should fold. That’s OK, though, because giving your opponents the idea you might bluff may well cause them to call when you do have the nuts. I’m less good at seeing a bluff opportunity at the hand’s end when, obviously, no one has much — typical when hold cards are big and the board is small. Or there’s a pair on the board and no one’s indicated a set. You can bluff a pot with a strong river bet, sometimes. I’m just worried about being called inappropriately, on Fun Money tables, when a loss means less.

I get tricked by pairs another way, too. Let’s say I have K-2, and the flop is K-2-5. I bet the pot, and someone calls quickly, or raises. So I put them on a K, but my two pair puts me in good shape. Then the turn and river comes 8-5. Thos two 5s have negated my 2s. So my winner probably isn’t any more. I often forget that, and variations of the same scenario. I’m also prone to being pushed out of hands when I have, say, second-high pair and my opponents are on draws. If they bet heavily I tend to fold, then watch to discover I’ve thrown away the winning hand. Not sure what I can do about that, other than reading my opposition better, not always possible when you’re not face to face.

I do, however, have to focus more on what my opponents are doing. I still have the same basic strategy:

–Is the hand worth playing?

–If so, do I want to raise pre-flop? (I rarely do, but Big Slick or QQ, KK, or AA, I sometimes try annoying 10-chip raises, and if someone bites I might do a pot bet or go all in — the latter if I have 1000 chips or less.)

–If my hole cards are marginal (I’ll need help from the board to win the hand) and someone raises heavily, do I stay or fold? Here it helps if I have some reads on my opponents. Some players bet heavily on anything, and if I have sufficient chips I might call.

But basically I’m still trying to decide if my hand is good enough to pay to see another card. “Cheap” is what I’m after. My worst dilemmas are: 4 of a suit after the flop; open-ended straight draws; inside straight draws; 2nd- and 3rd-high pairs; high pair with low kickers. I have a tendency to bet the flush draw if I can afford to, because when they come in — about 1/3 to 2/5 of the time — they can be very lucrative. I’m warier about open-ended. You can hit and still, often, lose. The the lower pairs — I stay with them as long as I can afford to, usually to the turn. Give both low pairs and inside straights one card to improve. With low kickers I need to see how others are betting, to guess if someone else has my high card. After that I improvise, accentuating caution.

But by then, what my opponents are doing are more of a factor. Their betting patterns can help me decide to stay or not. (Also, how the cards have been running. 2 or more aces in the previous hand make it less likely that the board will give me an ace, no matter what some math geeks say.) I’ve improved slightly in my reads, but don’t make it enough of a priority. You know the way I play: tv on, sometimes doing small chores, sometimes eating or talking on the phone. Makes it hard to concentrate on anything but my own hand.

See? 3+ pages on playing poker. Totally tedious. Obsessed.

 Baby, they opened a Home Depot in the Chelsea mall on Rte. 16. You’d have been ecstatic. I’d have been driven to distraction. Had it opened in 2004 or earlier, you’d have been able to get there on your scooter, and god knows what you would’ve brought home. I know it sounds mean, but I’m glad it took this long. You’d have made me nuts.

6-10-06

Good Morning Beloved –

Lord, what a crashing bore I was yesterday. And I could go on a lot more about poker and its nuances. Sorry!

I did talk to you quite a bit last night. Mainly about the one-way communication we’re indulging in at present. Except for the pocket 5s/full house incident, I haven’t noted anything that could be construed as coming from you. And you know that I’m a sceptic about beyond-the-grave communication. If it happens at all, I suspect it can be done only through someone like John Edwards, the medium. But I spent years underestimating you, believing you couldn’t do something and having you prove me wrong. And if anyone — anyone! — has the strength and the will to break through the great barrier between the dead and the living, it’s you.

So I told you to take your time. Maybe you need to help Freddie settle in. Perhaps you’re waiting for the rain to stop (if it ever does!) and the butterflies to come. Baby, I’m not going to go for something really iffy. The pocket 5s/full house is really iffy, since I play a great many poker hands and — like the mythic monkeys randomly pounding at typewriters that eventually produce Shakespeare. The odds of that 55/FH hand coming are less than a straight flush, and I’ve had several of those.

But I haven’t closed my mind to the possibility of you communicating in some fashion. So if a butterfly lands on me — especially if it’s a monarch — I’ll definitely respond. And if it takes you a year — or two — or however long, I’ll be here, and waiting for you.

Sciatic’s still a problem. Got through my errands and my session with Janet OK, but when I sit a while I hurt a lot. You know how it is. Tomorrow I may walk a bit, and definitely will get a chamois and eraser for art class, and will apply for work at the Barnes & Noble on Rte. 1. Caught a bit of a break when, along with the $291 Amex bill (very low by our standards!) came a check from Margery at Give & Take for $130. Next month’s Amex will be at least $300, thanks to the wiper motor — but the following month, I’m dreaming about no Amex bill. Can you imagine: no Amex bill? We never could manage that!

But I do miss giving you presents!

6-11-06

Good Afternoon, My Love –

It’s finally stopped raining, for a while anyway. More coming Wednesday. I’m hoping the house stays relatively watertight, though I could smell dampness in a corner of the bedroom two days ago. Not bad yesterday, but will keep checking.

Got in a modest walk for modest money ($1.52). Hip and back aren’t too bad at the moment. Am watching the first game of a Red Sox double header — they’re losing — after which I’ll go out, get my art supplies, and apply at the B&N. As I watch I’m playing in a poker tourney (not too bad: 144th, but it’s still early).

Added a ruminative section to the “Fever Dream” sketch, exploring more Jane’s possible thoughts on her mother, summarized by “I am my mother; I am not my mother”, which I could say about myself. I just hope the addition strengthens the piece. Have no idea. Need Tom’s feedback. Later I’ll type the piece into an email and send it, to Tom, Lisa and work so I have a hard copy.

Ended the tourney in 115th place. You’d have done better.

Heard from Sindy. More soap opera, more characters, more confusion on my part, but at least she’s doing a bit better. Would give you details but can’t sort ‘em out and, today, don’t want to.

6-12-06

Good Afternoon Beloved –

Been a bit hectic at work, with me doing my job and Andy Chase’s. But the day goes faster this way.

I did type up and send to Tom and Lisa a draft of “The Fever Dream.” So I feel pretty virtuous about my weekend activities. Paid Verizon and Amex. Will mail the application to B&N on Rte 1 tomorrow. Was told they’re not hiring, but you never know. Still hope Home Instead will come through. Tomorrow, intend to call Phil Furman and, if I reach him, will tell him I’m giving him a head’s up that I’m using him for a reference, but I’ll really be hoping he can use me an evening or two, or on the weekend. Am also going to try to squeeze some bucks out of my ebay guy. Gotta get that bank account up beyond $1200. Nowadays, $1200 can disappear faster than a cookie in a kindergarten (or a cookie in the House of Boyce!).

I’m trying not to dwell on the sequence of events a year ago. It hurts a lot to remember what you and we went through. I think that’s why I got down the last couple of weeks. And if I start thinking about it, I can’t stop for a while and things get bad inside. So I’m trying to keep my mind in the present. There are no ghastly anniversaries, now that Memorial Day’s behind us, until September, And I expect to be pretty miserable then, as the 20th approaches.

Now, onto other things.

6-13-06

Good Morning My Love –

“Other things” proved to be art class where, again, I was praised for stuff you wouldn’t put on a refrigerator, but so desperate am I for female flattery that I lapped it up. Composition the topic. I’d started with an idea of a diagonal using 3 objects — 2 bottles and a kind of large goblet-shaped glass compote – but didn’t like it. One of the bottles was squat so I tried a rhomboid arrangement, with a tall narrow bottle in the middle and the two squatter items on either side. That worked OK, and teach liked it.

The highlight of the night came after I got home — and I’m sorry, I’m going to bore you with more poker talk. I’d about broken even during my brief play earlier and was trying to get in a bit more before bed (almost 10 p.m. by the time I got home.)

Got on my current favorite table, France 9. Noticed soon that a player three seats to my left would use fairly big pressure bets on marginal hands and was accumulating chips by forcing people out. You play someone like that by waiting for a quality hand and simply calling him, so you can dump if your hand deteriorates and crush him if the hand comes in.

I had A-2 of hearts. Called. Flop had an A, but I was worried about my low kicker. My target bet solidly pre-flop, more solidly post-flop. I called. Next card an A. I felt better but could still lose to a fourth A and kicker. My target bet higher; I called. The river was a 2. Now I’ve got a boat, aces full. All-in time for me, and I come ut with 11K in chips. Part one of my 2-part coup.

Then I noticed a player two seats to my right (which meant I had position on him.) He was a one-trick pony. If he got any kind of hand, he’d either check, call or make a very small bet, then pounce with an all-in at the river. He amassed 13K chips that way. I waited.

I got a 9-5 off. Small bets — my opponent’s pattern — allowed me to see the flopped. I flopped two pair. But 9s and 5s aren’t the nuts, so I was cautious, calling rather than raising, especially since I thought a raise might drive out my opponent, and his chips were what I coveted.

The turn was a 5.

Now I’ve got him. All I have to do is reel him in. I know he has something, otherwise he’d have folded early on.

I check. He does too. I forget the river card, but it didn’t matter As per his pattern my opponent went all-in, and I took almost every chip he had.

In terms of observation, strategy, play and outcome, this was the best hand I ever played. It exhilarated me so much I shook for ten minutes. So sweet!

Won 26K during that session.

Tom wrote back quickly, and complimentary, about “The Fever Dream.” Said nice things about the piece, and my writing. Said his own ain’t so hot. He has a gold mine in his adoption journals, but I think there’s something askew in his sense of himself as a writer. Perhaps he’s still too wrapped up in parenthood and trying to get by, or it could even be a dislocation effect. When I can shift focus from myself to him I’ll try to puzzle it out.

Letters to Donna/from 5-31-06

5-31-06

Good Morning Beloved –

Rested most of the evening last  night, not even playing much poker. Needed it; glad I did. This morning better, physically and — thus far — emotionally.

6-1-06

Good Morning My Love –

Sorry I didn’t write much. Not too much to say, especially after the emotional bath I gave myself the day before.

Lisa’s dating situation is getting almost funny. She has four or five guys very anxious to get in her pants, and one or two who may even be interested in her. She is, of course, delighted with her new-found popularity and, of course, terrified by it. Plus, it’s exhausting dealing with all these slavering swains. Basically I think she’s a one-man woman, but how do you tell which one? It’s making her crazy(er). She alternately wants to indulge big time and to tell them all to go away.

6-2-06

Good Morning Donna My Darling –

Lisa didn’t write much re: her counselling session besides saying she didn’t get much out of it. Wonder what she expected?

Was tired and sore of back, so played very little poker and went to bed. I don’t miss you in bed as much as I used to, though should you suddenly be next to me (and reasonably healthy) I would assume I’d died and that there really is a heaven. My love for you still pours out of me. There’s just no one there to accept it, much less return it. I still talk to you a lot, now mainly comments but sometimes still those odd dialogues that are dialogues despite being one-sided. The only time I really wondered if you were trying to get through was during a poker session last week. I’d drawn pocket 5s — your hand — and as I always do said Hi to you. Someone bet high before the flop, and I told you I’d have to give the hand up, though — I said aloud — this time the set would probably come in. I folded — and the flop was 9-5-9, a gorgeous full house. If that was you, baby, I’m sorry I folded! Keep trying, OK? I’ll pick you up eventually.

It’s two weeks without anything on watch on ebay! Hope I can keep it up, would like to see six months without a purchase. Miss it, have to fight the temptation, but happily there’s nothing compelling to break down my reisistance. Other than grass, ebay’s been my biggest non-essential expense — and now that I think of it, I’ve spent more on ebay than on grass since you died, so it’s #1! It’s my finances that are, uh, #2….

Finished the sketch about Jane’s fever dream. Interesting process. I’ve told you the story: Jane extremely ill, touch and go, some time (I think) pre-me. Dreams she’s in a room with a curtain which begins to wrinkle in one corner. The wrinkles begin to spread across the curtain and she realizes if the wrinkles cover the curtain she will die, so in her dream she works at smoothing the curtain. Almost fails but prevails and lives.

But as I wrote it, I discovered that the story I wanted to tell was about why she fought to smoothe the curtain instead of just giving up. I didn’t know when I started that this was the story. The same thing happened to some extent with the migraine sketch, about halfway done. I’ve had to invent a character roughly (very roughly) based on Jackie who challenges my little boy as he tries to protect his mother, to focus the dramatic moment, so instead of the story being about a boy who helps his mother when she’s sick, it’s about a boy who has to find the courage to defy a formidable grown-up so he can help his mother when she’s sick.

Each sketch has mild built-in interest, but doesn’t answer the so-what? factor. In each case I’ve discovered the answer in the process of the writing.

Would you believe one of ECS’s pieces was performed on “Ellen” yesterday? If you were alive, you probably would’ve seen it: a piano piece by Gwyneth Walker, a very popular but basically second-string composer whose greatest talent is self-marketing. Played by a young Japanese piano virtuoso, it’s — he says — a favorite piece of his. Much talent, no taste. We found out about it yesterday afternoon when a dealer ordered a couple of copies of the piece and told us why. Are there widescreens all over heaven?…

De. seemed much more relaxed on Sunday, what with Freddie’s situation behind her. She remains suspicious of and upset with Abra whom she suspects of having designs on all of Freddie’s spoils. De. says Freddie told her there’d be a few grand for her and Stevie, but he didn’t do any  codicil, so it’s up to Abra to handle that, plus any other personal effects which might suitably go to family. De. wanted the piano but Abra seems to want that too. I actually think De. has no room for it and is better off letting it go. De. says she doesn’t hold grudges; maybe not, but she sure stews over things.

Now she can switch her attention back to her son and his latest approaching hearing. The main non-legal issue is getting Grant to accept the realities of his life: that he can’t drink, that if he drinks he can’t drive, that his brain isn’t wired quite like other kids and that he must live his life differently as a result.

Funny: after 1 1/2 sketches I’m already a bit tired of my younger self. Scared little wimp. I don’t know how much more I want to write about him. An odd thing is, though it’s my life history I’m telling, the stories come not from within me but from Jane; most of them are her stories in which I play a fairly passive part. I know I gave her much joy, as well as a vital reason to keep on plugging during miserable times, as if there were any other times. But other than battles of will between us, I was a passive passenger in Jane’s nightmarish journeys. The migraine sketch marks a transition to my greater role in my own and her life, reinforced by the incident when her father was dying in Virginia and she couldn’t cope emotionally, and left me there while she went back to NYC.. That’ll make a good story, and I’ll look better in it too! She was so ashamed of that — rightly, in my opinion — but to me it was a kind of rite of passage that told me I could hack adult responsibilities. A man’s job, given to a boy and discharged satisfactorily. And it was part of the long transition from dependent to caretaker which resolved so many of our conflicts because how could we be so terrible as child and parent when it worked out so well in the long run? I think we were forced to conclude that for all our well-documented mistakes and shortcomings, we were a better mother-and-son team than we thought. Underneath all the wrong were things that were very right. That’s the thing I most want to say to and about Jane. The scars from her black side are permanent on me, but her gifts to me still benefit me, and the best that I am arises from her love, generosity of time and self, and her ethics, which were strong and true.

6-5-06

Good Morning My Best Baby –

I apologize for not writing over the weekend. Be assured, my love, that even when I don’t write, I think of you constantly and talk to you often.

After my session with Janet I drove home and it began to pour and I just moped my way through the day, doing tv, sports and poker. Yesterday I awoke with the runs and couldn’t get over them and out until 4:30, when I walked but did little else. I just procrastinated and vegged out all weekend, basically, and I’m sorry for not writing.

Didn’t even type up the draft of “The Fever Dream.” Didn’t write a lick, except to Lisa (who’s OK but still overwhelmed and very edgy re: dating). Read sporadically. Low level blues, I’d say. Missed you. Always miss you.

Must say that Lisa’s Adventures in Dating is a cautionary tale to me. So complicated, so fraught with anxiety, so expensive!! Don’t want to have anything to do with the game, which I wasn’t much good at in the first place. My approach: be myself. If anyone shows any interest, assume they’re nuts and run like hell.

Tonight’s the first (of art classes. Tomorrow the car goes to Patrick. Eventually I go to Hades.

R.S. just gave me the word: I’m going from $34K to $38K annum. I’d expected a $3K raise, needed 5, pleased with 4. Starts this next paycheck. I’ll still need part-time work but not as urgently. It’s an extra $77 a week before taxes, so that gets it to $50. Need $50 more. Janet gives me maybe $20. So I need $30. at least. Two more Home Instead gigs would do it, but I won’t do Ponzo and nothing else is out there yet. At least this takes pressure off, and without ebay spending I may be a bit better than I think.

In reading the printout the orthopedic surgeon gave me, I was struck by a couple of things. Most important is the on-going, long-term risk of post-op infections. I’m warned that for at least two years post-op I’m to take antibiotics before having any dental work done at all, even cleanings. Wound care important. And remember all that stuff I had to give away: the raised toilet seat, the sock putter-oner, the gripping tool that gets stuff down from high places — I might need ‘em all for a week or two. Probably if I’m in rehab I’ll get ‘em there. And I’ll have to be conscious of the hip, leg and foot position, probably for the rest of my life.

Other details — size of incision, kind of anesthesia, whether or not surgical cement is used etc. — remain to be seen. The surgery is ten months away and who knows what the hip will be like then.

And the printout feels obliged to tell patients that they will not have more function than they had before the hip problems developed. Duh!

By the way: the above makes it a virtual certainty I’ll have at least one more extraction before April.

Have been reviewing my finances in my head. If I can stay off ebay I can save $25 a week, which is at least what I’ve been spending. 3 weeks since I bought on ebay. That $25, plus my found money, about makes up the $100 I need. And I can save $10 a week bringing in my own coffee and breakfast and about $5 a week if I did my own laundry. Thge former I’m prepared to do at any time, but I’m real reluctant to do my laundry myself again. Of course, pot remains the big optional expense, and if I could get 2 evenings from Home Instead I’d cut down on that too….

At least I feel like now I’ve got a handle on it with wiggle room in terms of more income and/or less expense still available to me. I’ll be very interested in what my take-home is this Friday.

I’m also figuring that, with stuff going onto ebay and my ebay guy owing me some money from before, I may be able to get the bank account up over $2K. I need it to stay there. Other than the trust, that’s my safety net. It’s $1200 now and that’s nowhere near enough. My hope is that, starting with this paycheck, I won’t have to dip into the account every pay period the way I’ve had to do lately. Stop withdrawals, increase deposits. We’ll see if we can, now.

6-6-06

Good Morning Beloved –

Looked around the bedroom last night, and you were everywhere. Not just the pictures or your wonderful Christmas message from a year and a half ago. There’s the bed: your beloved bed that you were so pleased with. The headboard we found together. The big pillows you used as a back support (me too!). The swing-out tv mounted on the bedside armoire. We’d seen it in the hospital and I liked the idea, but you tracked down a manufacturer and made it happen. And the armoire itself, the last piece of the bedroom set you adored. A few clothes are tossed on the folding chair you reupholstered so well — it was the last project you completed successfully. Subsequent efforts either required too much strength or visual/spatial acuity the tumor stole from you. But by the door is one of my favorites of your projects: the gold-flecked refinished mini-bureau. You did a GREAT job on that — on the chairs too!. Open the armoire and there’s the gorgeous mosaic jewelry box I bought you, and on the shelf by the bed:  your bling!! Inside the closets: photos, jewelry, your PC, bedding we shared…on and on. I am still steeped in you, my love.

Car at Patrick’s. As long as we do business together (many years, I hope) we’ll share you. What was it a bout you that made you so special to so many people? One thing: your courage in the face of your illnesses. Another: your tenacity/stubbornness/perserverence. You would not give in, not back down from something you felt was important. And living your life your way was very important. Another: your love affair with life, and the things in life which delighted you. If people expected you to be defeated, glum, negative, what they got was your delight in a sky, a cloud, a flower,  a butterfly, a child. You made us ashamed to be sorry for ourselves. Another: in your last decade you achieved a kind of wisdom, or at least perspective, that people found valid and inspiring. You seemed to have greatly sorted out what mattered from what didn’t, and what mattered was getting what good you could out of your life and not letting anyone prevent that from happening. People needed to hear that, especially from you. I was proud to play the enabler role in this scenario. And another: you were a crazy, sweet, funny, goofy ditz of a person whose company could be just wonderful. And finally: god, you were strong. As your outer strength waned, your inner strength increased. No one could spend 30 minutes with you and not feel it. Nature might’ve been trying to force you to your knees, but in the end, you were the force of nature.

Did my first drawing class, and must tell you there won’t be any exhibits of my work soon. We tried to draw bottles with vine charcoal on an 18″x24″ pad. Mine were static, inhibited little things. But after I learned about negative and positive space, filling up the page and breaking real-world shapes into geometric ones, my bottles were better and I was praised for my “energy” (sloppiness), because I scribbily (!) darkened the background. I did enjoy it, and the instructor’s a cutie (don’t worry, no chance).

Can you tell, my darling, how much I love you still?

Only problem with taking the car to Patrick, now that Craig’s gone (making my raise possible), is the walking. Back and hip are sore now. I expect quality heating pad time tonight, probably tomorrow too.