Sunday, November 23

Miss Otis Regrets...

So much to not say. So little not to do. Where doth the time fly?

New Orleans, this Thursday. Back on the plane, this time heading towards the gorgeous South! Land of Plastic beads and Tennessee Williams! Oh, perhaps I should reread some 10? I sometimes long for him, I long from that time when I first read his words and felt whole new worlds opening. Beautiful and tragic. The Kingdom of Heaven does not come at an easy price!

Today has been a day of no work. Shame, shame, shame. I did discover Patti LaBelle's version of Miss Otis Regrets that has sent me giggling like a 14-year-old school girl every time I start it! You need to hear it to believe it! She turns it into a harrowing tale.
When she woke up and found that her dream of love was...GOOOOONNNNNE! Madame! She ran, she ran to the man! Who lead her astray!

And from under a black velvet gown! She drew a gun and SHOT her love down...Madame!

Miss Otis Regrets! She's unable, unable, UNABLE! To lunch...TODAY!

When the mob came and got her! And dragged her from the jail! MADAME! They strung her up! Up! UP! On the Willow across the way!
Tonight a boy I have befriended has revealed that he has feelings for me. It was straight-forward and to the point. I appreciated that, and felt warmly happy inside. I responded with, "I am all types of unstable right now. Just be my friend for now." He's young and naive and I feel that if I touched his body it would melt like a freshly fallen snowflake.

I want him to be in my life. As a friend for now. I don't know how I feel about him, but I like his friendship. That's what's important, right? To value the friendships you have before anything else. Perhaps someday I'll be able to feel that same way in return. Of course, then it will be to late and I'll realize how "Julia Roberts" my life has become.

Lastly, I leave you with various pictures of Jennifer Holliday making weird faces at the Tony Awards:

The one that got her the Tony Award:

Miss Otis regrets, she's unable to lunch today.

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