August 9th, 2012
Off to the Hollywood Bowl
Tchaikovsky with Dudamel and pianist Wang. Should be nice. We’ve been in Pasadena all day having meetings and I had to go to acupuncture.
We didn’t have time to buy the traditional Bowl food and I couldn’t get up early and make it because I’ve had a headache for days. I can’t process bad stuff well because the bad stuff processing part of my head is broken. It has actually been at the fix it shop for a few years and they keep telling me I’ll get it back eventually but they don’t seem to finish fixing it.
To fix that part of yourself requires going back to the beginning of time, before there were worries, back at the beginning of the world and then making yourself differently in the yoghurt making. You start with different yoghurt starter, you let the curd settle, the cream rise, you let it all blend differently and you come out like the Dalai Llama, able to let go of certain angst and quickly process the rest.
I believe in letting go of problems, of accepting people as they are, of smiling, of believing that things will get better, but my head and neck have not received these lessons in smiling. They take in pain and blend it around with my muscles in my shoulders and the back of my neck and start whipping me like scoundrels who don’t know when to walk away and have a drink at the bar and leave off with the violence toward my head which feels like a mess of snakes.
I want to walk through the world lightly in sandals. Not worry about what people are thinking. Feel the haze, the warmth, the heat, the light, the whisper of gravity and still float.
The Bowl should be good tonight. Dudamel of the big hair conducting. And we haven’t been all summer, so this is our first. Oddly, we are going to the Bowl twice next week—on Thursday and Friday. Too much time away chopped into our Bowl summer.
We’ll have to buy food there, find some chicken and wine. Maybe have summer for dessert. Maybe breathe.