*sigh* so bland.
Here is a poor photo of Rocky, Frank and Brad walking away... but not such a poor photo of the back of the stage manager (on left) who I get to stare at every night.
Which makes me happy. She touched my belt last night (she likes my cool belt).
Ah, and when she is walking around with her bullwhip I am glad I volunteered to do Rocky Horror.
(later)....
Was invited to the cast party, but declined. Why, you may ask? Because my sister wanted to go with.
I could have ditched her but she'd have found out... I didn't want to go with her tagging along.
she'd have gone on and on about stupid crap no one wants to hear about. She would have embarrassed me, more so than I already would have been.
I feel very out of place lately... I am so different than these southerners. I just sort of wish I could fit in but it's not going to happen.
I might have gone if bullwhip gal had gone, but she had to work in the morning. Anyhow, it's probably for the best since I'm sure there would have been drinking and I just don't need to be around that right now.
I long for human interaction, sure, but I want it to be of the quality that nourishes me. I was driving along today and on NPR they had a show called The Splendid Table. Some guy called in asking what were some good FOOD MOVIES to watch after a dinner party...
and the first thing that popped into my head was Babbett's Feast.
And suddenly I was overwhelmed with sorrow, at the loss of Carol. I could suddenly see her, that night at her apartment; her brother was there, we were watching tv I think.
I was sitting on Carol's couch and she laid down, her head just touching my leg. Her head was not on my leg but it was touching enough that she would have known it was touching.
I felt so lucky to have her lovely head touching my leg that I did not move lest I wake her. She napped. I looked down upon her hair and felt like I would never move again in my life.
And there in the truck driving along Jordan Lane ... I lost it.
I have never actually wished I could drive my truck off a cliff before but there it was.
Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever let go of her entirely. I mean I only feel that way once a year or so, that overwhelming sadness; but it still pops up.
I despair of ever feeling that depth with anyone again.
Sitting in her tiny kitchen while she made me Mexican coffee... watching her cook. For us.
Oh, I need to go to bed and hope for good dreams to take my mind off her. It's been about five or six years since I last saw her. And it's probably best I never see her again.
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