friendship

The Beat Goes On…

/ poppeacock / Leave a comment

Ha, I truly didn’t mean to make you wait to see what happened.

I was going to write about my phone call with Debbie. And how it was so comforting to reconnect with her. She is truly marvelous and funny and smart and savvy.

But what I was also going to write about was that this same weekend, I had had a deep, connecting phone call with Faye. She and I can always get philosophical in no time flat. We just get each other. But this particular call stood out. I don’t know if COVID shut downs are making me reevaluate my relationships differently or if it was just one of those amazing calls.

But it turned out, it was an amazing weekend of calls.

Cuz after that call, that same weekend, I had the same kind of conversation with Mads. And with SG. SG and I had a zoom call and I got to see her cool apartment in Portland. She is another from my past that has come into my present. And it was really great to catch up.

I was going to write about it all in more detail.

But time got away from me.

And then there was the election. A week of stress, wondering if we would stay in this situation with a baby-man president. A week of stress realizing that the differences I share with some family members is no longer about different ideas on policies but that there are actual differences about ethics. And can I live with that? Can I live knowing these friends and family members are a$$holes? Many claiming to be religious too. Ugh.

And even though the party I voted for won and is now in the White House, the idea that it was that close really hurt my heart.

But I digress a bit. Sorry, I meant to be catching you up.

Shaka, Faye and I were supposed to be on a game show. That was going to be a whole story in and of itself. But after multiple zoom auditions and filling out more forms than I do at tax time, we went to shoot. Except we never got on. We sat in a cold sound stage watching everyone else get picked for the team. And there we were, three pathetic figures asking if we could go home. And then getting defiant about it. Plus, my face shield fogged up the ENTIRE day so in addition to having to stay 6 feet apart from my husband and friend, I couldn’t hear them AND I couldn’t see them. AND we didn’t get on the show. I like to think there is a good reason, but sometimes, you just don’t get picked. But we did get free covid tests where we didn’t have to wait in the usual long lines, so there’s that.

And Leigh had a birthday. I asked her what she wanted to do. She told me she wanted to go to the beach. I hadn’t been in a car this entire year with anyone other than Shaka. So Leigh and I talked about it, and we decided we would double up on masks and then drive with the windows down.

It was her birthday, but I felt like it was mine. It was a magical day of cold, clear skies. There were very few people out at the Ventura pier. She and I sat on the beach for hours watching the waves and having the kind of conversations you do with someone you have known since you were 5.

We watched a dog live his best life in the surf chasing birds and waves for an hour, while the owner sat on the sand with a poop bag and a tennis ball.

And then the holidays were upon us. I must say, it was actually an enjoyable holiday season for me because I am usually running everywhere, saying yes to every invitation and baking and cooking a lot. But everything was paced nicely. I dropped off pumpkin bread and gifts to any of my friends who were accepting baked goods. I met up for social distanced walks with a few others. And Shaka and I joined his sister and her husband with masks in their back yard for an afternoon of socially distanced gift exchange and mulled wine.

It was quite calm. And very fulfilling.

I embraced the New Year tentatively (cuz last year’s cries of “2020! Woo hoo!!!! Year of perfect Vision!!!!” didn’t age well). It was nice. A zoom call with Zappy and Mads where we dressed in sparkles and toasted our health and our friendship and to beginnings (and endings).

Zoom NYE

We didn’t want to put too much pressure on 2021. Or Biden. But we toasted to hope.

And then Leigh called to tell me her mom hadn’t been feeling well. That she was having trouble breathing.

So Leigh took her in to the ER where they admitted her. I was surprised they got in so fast since many of the hospitals at this point were full.

They gave her oxygen and she was feeling better. She even told Leigh that she thought she would be released soon. Leigh’s mom is a strong woman with crazy determination, so Leigh wanted to make sure the Doc didn’t release her based on her mom’s will. The doc told Leigh he didn’t plan to.

I made a concerted effort to start walking daily with Shaka. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to find my groove, my routine. But you meet yourself where you are. And I was in a place of gratitude for my health and my life and my relationships.

Then the Insurrection at the Capitol happened. And I knew that my feelings of unease at how close the election was was coming to fruition. I felt very saddened. And enraged. How much more damage could happen before the Inauguration?

Then I checked in on the group text for Leigh’s mom. One person asked how she was feeling.

I kept blinking at the phone as I read the words that her mom had passed away.

It was like that moment in a movie where the world becomes separated from you and you are just standing there alone. I called Leigh. The sobs shook our call. I called her sister and her niece.

I made a tribute on facebook with all the photos I could find. She called herself Dolphin Di. She was nearly 37 years sober, she scuba dove all over the world, she taught art, she delivered Meals on Wheels, she cared deeply for her family. She was complex, though. She was impatient and could snap and feel wounded. When I was a kid, she didn’t know what to make of me. She thought I talked too fast, too loud and too much. True true true. But as I got older, I think she liked my light and my fun. She had an elfin grin. You had to be careful when looking through her photos of her dive trips because there would be naked boobie shots in the mix from when she would flash the camera. She swam weekly in the ocean with a group of women. After she passed, a few of them gathered in her honor and when they reached the buoy, a pod of dolphins swam by. Dolphin Di was there. Was with them. It’s her laugh I will truly miss. So full. So lusty. So charming.

Dolphin Di

We are so close to the vaccine being available to everyone. So close.

And yet, death is all around us. Rage is all around us. Sadness is too.

In general, I tend to cry pretty easily.

But I will say that during this past year of COVID shut downs, I was pretty stoic. I was also very hopeful and determined. Determined that I would come out of this time stronger.

The daily walks have now become my salve. I need them. I love feeling the sun on my face. I love looking at the houses in my neighborhood. I love spending this time with Shaka. Our conversations get deeper and deeper. Sometimes, it’s the edibles. Sometimes, it’s just us.

This weekend, I watched, “The White Tiger” and “In and Of Itself”. Last weekend, I watched Promising Young Woman. I adored all three films. All were dark and funny, but they left a lasting impression on me. All three are in some way about how you are labeled in life. Is your life created by your identity? Or does your identity create your life? And can you change your identity? And how beholden are you to how you are seen by others? Strange questions to try and answer when you are quarantined or adhering to stay at home orders. Sometimes I wonder if Shaka and I are the only people around. Sometimes, our bubble is very quiet.

All of this…the films, the talks, the connections, the loss, the changes, the deaths, the beauty, the humor…it’s all been A LOT.

I have been stoic during COVID. I try and be the calming effect for friends who are having a hard time. Or I try and realize this time will end and what did I do with myself during it. I have a made a few epic birthday videos for family members. I am working on other creative projects. I continue to laugh daily and am grateful for life.

But this week, a dam has broken in me.

The tears have been coming and coming. And the pain rocks my soul and my heart so fiercely, that I stutter my words.

I keep saying there has never been a better time to be in a pandemic. We can do so much virtually than we ever would have at any other time. We can have things delivered. We can live in our homes with so many streaming options, it feels weird to complain.

But

But

But…maybe it’s because it’s so close to feeling normal that we feel so disconnected. I mean, if we really couldn’t see each other virtually or order food or see anyone, we would really notice the difference. But because it’s like house arrest but not really but kind of…the feelings get messy. Where do you put them? The feelings?

For me, I put them in photography. Or in words. I put them here.

I catch you up.

On my life. On my joys. And my sorrows.

I sing. I dance. I laugh with Shaka at his jokes.

Daily, I time my showers against the food truck in my neighborhood playing “La Cucaracha.” If I have showered before I hear it, I know I am on track.

And “on track” changes daily.

Some days, it’s making sure I don’t lose my mind from a few of my co-workers and other days, it’s making sure I don’t kill my cats while I am working. Some days, it’s making sure I take my walks and other days, it’s making sure I call my family members.

And other days, being on track is just being grateful.

Unless I hear La Cucaracha wafting in the air on a Saturday…then I just laugh.

Cuz there isn’t any way, I am racing to shower on the weekends to the schedule of a food truck.

Stay safe, everyone.

The VCR Chronicles – In For A Penny, In For A Pound

/ poppeacock / Leave a comment

I thought I was doing well, despite, well, you know…covid.

But after many months of being home and living more in our bubble than many around us, I was craving a home refresh.

But any new furniture or home decor must be able to be delivered, or not too heavy or large if I buy it somewhere and it must be in my budget.

le sigh.

Too many constraints on my wild need to redecorate our space. This refresh would bring me some adventure and change in a time when spring melts into summer into fall and I barely wear pants.

Shaka keeps saying we have outgrown the space. I keep saying, we just need to reorganize.

So I looked around our space to see what I could redo.

Our office/guest room has a tv/vcr combo that is taking up some space. As is the shelf of VHS tapes. I bought some hardware and software to convert them with the tv/vcr combo. I tried it but it didn’t work.

My sister said when she was doing the conversion, she used OBS Studio. I tried it but it didn’t work.

I ended up getting a new computer. It didn’t work.

I got another capture device. It didn’t work.

I sent out an inquiry to work people on our intranet.

First guy said his dad was moving and had a vcr/dvd combo I could have but he wasn’t sure it worked.

Another guy at work had a working vcr but needed to get it back from someone who had borrowed it.

The vcr/dvd combo ended up working like a charm.

Then it stopped working.

Thank goodness the guy with the working vcr was able to get it back and was willing to still loan it to me.

Then…that one started working ONLY with the OBS studio but no sound.

I went to bed racking my brain for solutions but I am not tech minded.

I then bought a head cleaner to see if that would do the trick

Shaka smirked from the couch, “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

It’s true! It’s expensive to send them to be converted but I was on my way to spending more if this didn’t work soon.

I became fixated on making this work. It HAD to work! And it had to work soon. I couldn’t finalize my plans until this first row of dominos fell. I didn’t want to live in a half completed project. I am already living in a half reality as it is.

It reminded me of my friends and relatives who are Trumpers. They are not the 1% but they still believe somehow that he is their savior. It’s quite gross. And distressing. They believe in his cult of personality. They believe his lies.
They too, are in for a penny, in for a pound. They double down with vigor and anger as they tell me I am the snowflake or that they won’t live their lives with fear. Though their very tone is quite fearful. I am afraid.

But unlike them, my obsession isn’t based in misogyny or lies or straight out thievery. Mine is all about finishing this damn project. By myself. The only lie I am believing is that I can do it.

I went to Youtube University to learn a new trade (fixing vcrs), but alas, it confirmed what I already suspected. And it’s that I stop paying attention when there are more than 8 steps involved in the first 2 minutes of the tutorial.

Then, I went back to the vcr/dvd combo that had stopped working. It ate a tape. I took off the top of the vcr and started to blow on the inner workings (you might want to take notes, pupils…this here is the technical portion of the lesson – hahahaha). Shaka walks into the living room to see me with an exposed vcr playing and me holding down the tape with my finger.

“Who did I marry???” he laughs

“It’s working,” I cry out like I discovered gold in them thar hills, “It’s FINALLY working!!!!”

I am now nearing the end of the project. Many vhs tapes down. Many hours of watching stuff I didn’t need to digitize like old Bill Mahr or David Letterman or Dharma and Greg promos, Everybody Loves Raymond, Mad TV or other shows I can’t remember. The pile is but a wee stack.

I am finally feeling a win. Once we move the tapes and donate the tv/vcr combo, we can move some furniture around and rearrange things. Move your stuff…change your life!!! My life will be on track!!!!! Okay, that’s a stretch, but it will be some movement.

But during this laborious process, I was finding a time capsule into my past.

I was able to digitize old commercials and old films I was in.

I also found a vhs tape from my friend Debbie (whom I wrote about before https://poppeacock.com/2019/07/18/quicksilver-people-finding-it/ ).

She has been sober for a long time. This tape was made before then and right before her world drastically changed. She filmed her life on her last day (and night) in SF before moving to Ojai.

The label read: To Ginsu Girl from Beecharmer.

I digitized it.

Early in the shutdown, I got back in touch with Debbie. It was like no time had passed, but for sure…multiple lives and experiences had existed in the interim. It was like feeling some movement in a finger that had gone numb.

After I digitized a film we had both been in (actually she was the one who got me the role), I emailed her to let her know that I had a digital version of the film and the SF tape she made for me and did she want it.

The time between hearing back from her was a strange pause because I didn’t want to send her anything that was triggering to her sobriety.

I was in a certain headspace of archiving my memories and projects but that didn’t mean she was.

I waited.

And then I heard back….

TO BE CONTINUED

Get Hammered

/ poppeacock / Leave a comment

So I admit that I was reading too quickly when I saw that the Hammer Museum was opening an exhibit for Paul McCarthy called Headspace, I misread it. I was like, cool, a Beatle does art. I’ll check it out.

I invited Faye to join me. I had never been to the Hammer before and Faye had yet to visit an LA museum since she moved here. Win-Win. When she asked me what the exhibit was, I actually couldn’t even remember that I had thought it was Paul McCartney. I told her I didn’t know, but that it was an opening and…why not.

Why not, indeed. Whenever Faye and I get together, we have fun.

The weather was clear, the roads weren’t cloggy and anything could happen.

I picked her up and we caught up and chatted about all her current activities. Faye is an actress living her best life here in LA. She and I met doing theater in Portland several moons ago. She is so good that she moved to LA and didn’t need to get a job doing anything else. Her hustle is legit and she works EVERY DAY! So I like hearing about this voice over gig and that audition and this film and that commercial and this awards show and that theater role. Plus, she had just had some friends visiting so I got to hear about how she took them all over LA, like I had once taken her. But with her own spin on it, naturally.

We got to Westwood and started looking for parking. I wasn’t worried. We would find the best space. But we drove around a few times. I got disorientated. But then…voila! Space found. Almost like valet. not really. But not…not really.

She had just gotten the iphone 11 and I, with my phone envy, got very excited over the camera features.

We wandered into various exhibits and sat in crazy swivel chairs that I knew I was going to break or fall out of (I didn’t).

Dude in one of the swivel art chairs

Then we continued chatting as we entered each exhibit. One was really cool where it was photographs deconstructed in a way that looked like salacious parts of the body but in reality was like a knuckle or a belly button.

I kept saying, “that’s a penis. Or a butthole.”

And Faye would point out my mistake. “That’s a belly button.”

“Oh, but that one there is definitely a butthole…and a penis.”

“Uh, wrong again. You seem to be able to see ONLY those two things.”

I laughed. But wondered why my brain was stuck in 8 year old boy mode.

Then we entered the Paul McCarthy exhibit.

I once saw the Basquiat exhibit at MOCA with Mads and I had to leave the room because the energy coming off the canvas was so dark and negative that I couldn’t breathe (sue me, I am dramatic), but in the same museum, I was admiring Warhol’s suicide/death series and was like, “hmmmmm, interesting.” I loved the film about Basquiat, but that exhibit was too intense. I don’t even remember what the paintings were of. So it’s not subject matter, apparently, it’s how it makes me feel.

And McCarthy’s work felt aggressive and like he was working some stuff out of his soul.

And then Faye says, “Well, here’s your penis. And your butthole. And there is another one. You were in the wrong exhibit.” And we laughed as we hightailed it outta there.

We drank some wine. Took in the people-watching. Took snaps with her phone. In fact, she handed it to me and said, go wild! So I did! Love that girl.

IMG_0569LauraIMG_0566IMG_0572

An older gentleman walked up to us and asked us about one of the exhibits (Max Hooper Schneider’s ‘Transfer Station,’ 2019. Mixed media) and we told him it was interesting and to take a look,

“But it’s a long line. Is it worth it?” Dude, you’re here. Why not?

“Check it out and see,” we said.

Then he said, “Did you check out the big exhibit by McCarthy? Disturbed!”

And it hit me that I sounded like that old man. BLECH!

“Well, it’s art,” I said, “and everyone gets something out of some things,”

What a nonsensical thing to say, but it got me out of the conversation. I mean, I did think it was disturbed, but I was never gonna try and encaspsulate art into something. It’s ART! You don’t have to love it.

We felt the rumble in our bellies and knew the cheese sticks they were passing out weren’t going to do the trick. We left the Hammer and wandered Westwood Village on a Saturday night. How was it possible that everything was closing? It was 9:30!!!! This is a college town! But we ended up at the Napa Valley Grille and as Faye/Poppeacock luck dictates, it was HAPPY HOUR!!!!

Our server was great, the food was delish and the rose was perfect! We played around with various settings on her phone as we finished up. As I went to the restroom, I realized, we were leaving before their posted closed hour, but we were the only people there who didn’t work there. Oops. Time to boogie.

We made our way down Wilshire back to her place. The air was still perfect and roads were still clear.

Getting cultured and shit.

We’re classy like that.

Residue from the Cult-of-Personality

/ poppeacock / 3 Comments

I was a little surprised to be getting a call from Faye the day before we were gonna meet for brunch. We usually text.

I was out running errands and took the call.

“Do you know who Caroline Calloway or Natalie Beach are,” she asks.

I don’t.

She begins to tell me about them.

Caroline Calloway  is an Instagram influencer who has also been accused of scamming her followers for a “Creativity Workshop” that failed. She has been compared to the likes of Billy McFarland (Fyre Festival CEO), but I wouldn’t go that far. Caroline seems to take her critics to the bank as she turns their insults into merchandise. She became Insta-famous for writing longer (bloggish) captions on her IG posts before anyone else was doing that. She had a college friend who was like her invisible, talented, ghost-writer side- kick, named Natalie, who helped write some of those captions. Things were sort of good. Then they weren’t. And the friendship ended. Now Natalie has written an article for “The Cut” and before it came out, Caroline was giving it press in her anxiety of what was to be written.

It did come out. And now, Natalie has a deal with Ryan Murphy for the rights.

Natalie’s side of things

Faye wanted me to read up on it for our brunch the next day so that we could discuss, since we both love all things pop culture, real housewives and social media. It also touched a nerve with regard to fame, friendship and that elusive quality of being IT.

We met at Faye’s and walked to   Loupiotte Kitchen   in Los Feliz. It was HOT outside. Not cool, global warming! (ha literally). These temps lately have been making my eyebrows sweat off. Actually, just one eyebrow. Which is worse, because it looks like I gave 1/2 a shit. It never looks like I put the effort into it that I did. And it definitely never looks like the cool, no make-up/make-up, effortless look the French girls have like   Camille Rowe.

I used to live in Los Feliz but it’s been awhile since I have walked to brunch there. So much has changed (she said with the sort of awe of a person who has been gone from her hometown for ages). Loupiotte was a perfect choice! If I can’t have French style, I can have French brunch. We sat down and ordered our food with a side of the pastries sampling (can you say petit pain au chocolat? YUM) The food came fast and the oat milk latte (you heard me) I ordered was fantastic!

So Faye and I discussed the whole Caroline/Natalie saga as if it were our jobs.

But it began to turn into something much more. We discussed why the story touched a nerve. How, when you’re young (though it’s not only reserved for the young), you are trying to figure out who you are and you find people in your life that spark you. So much of the time, those sparking people are incredibly toxic. Which is why your friends and family scratch their heads wondering what you see in that person.

We pondered are we more a Natalie or a Caroline? Or both? And Faye pointed out that your answer of who you think the villain is depends on your own experience. Were you an alpha or a beta in those relationships? I have been both. I never think of myself as the villain, however I told her that in high school, I wrote so many papers sympathizing with the antagonists that my teachers started to worry for me.

Caroline is pretty. But she’s not the most gorgeous woman you will see. And Natalie describes herself in more understated adjectives, however, from the rare photos, she isn’t unattractive. What makes someone like a Caroline shine, while someone like a Natalie feels sidelined? Privilege plays a role, as do certain influences and experiences from a young age. But really, a lot of it is how you see yourself and value your own worth. We both agreed that neither of us saw either as the villain. But that Natalie’s article almost birthed Caroline into a literary character. Maybe she already was and Natalie captured it. We love messy, complex women. And we also don’t.

Our discussion continued as we talked About how society is training young girls to be strong and speak their minds but that there is always a limit. Who decides that limit? Why do people love an underdog but only to a point? Why do people love to hate/watch social media posts about the wealthy/successful/clever/narcissistic? Schadenfreude is a component, for sure, but I think there are more layers. We opened the vaults to our own experiences with these situations. About giving our power away to people so easily. About our own culpability in those moments. About the lessons we now can say we learned.

Loupiotte was busy. But we seemed to fade into our own world. No one pushed us to leave or hurry up. The vibe in there was lovely. Our discussion rambled into various phases of hypotheticals about social media and devil’s advocate stances to oppose. I hadn’t had that kind of marathon philosophical/social/real world kind of discussion since post-college, I would imagine. Or perhaps when I was high in Palm Springs on one of my many girls’ trips (but who can remember? ah weed).

We met the owner (an effortless French woman) and paid our bill. We continued our discussion walking up Vermont Ave, peering into shops. Once back at Faye’s, we began to talk about other things that were equally important but which we hadn’t given enough time. Then, her cell rang; her mom. My cell rang; my dad. It was strange that we had been talking about youthful experiences and behaviors, only to have our parents tell us it was time to go home and get ready for the week.

Faye looked at her phone to see her IG showed a post of Caroline at Glossier here in LA. We laughed. We have no idea why this girl is interesting. But we follow her anyway. I guess we will continue to try and find the answers. Maybe youtube has a video on it. Don’t mind me while I do some research.