March 30, 2005

I am not really in the mood to write this. This blogging thing I have decided, is a technique I m using to avoid pursuing other, more rewarding avenues of self -expression.

That's right Cisco. I think its time I explored: On Expressing Your Personhood Through The Magic of Pastels

As I write there is paint drying (slowly slowly) to my left.

This morning I ran out of suger and had to pour cafe latte into my suger bowl and swish it around some and then I had to use maple syrup to make up the difference. I think I should build a giant easy chair stuffed with suger and call it "sweet and lazy".

Last night. my moms ghost arrived and sat on the bed with my cat, who was purring, and made me sad. I started to think about the fact that we need to order a headstone soon because apparently headstones are not like pizzas and you can't just order them and have them arrive in half an hour all piping hot from the stoneyards. So, if the family wants one before august its time to put pen to granite and start commemorating.

Of course this is not my decision it belongs to the whole family. What follows are just my ideas and not representative of what other people who loved my mother are thinking of. Also a short note on tradition. Since we are jewish and my mother was buried in a Jewish cemetary we have an obligation to put up a headstone and do and unveiling of the grave before the anniversary of her death.

So lying in bed with cat and ghost I was thinking of putting some lyrics from Leonard Cohen on the headstone because mom loved his music and bought me my first Leonard Cohen cassette when I was 14 or so at the Yorkdale Sam The Record Mans.

Then I had one of those intense body memories, of sitting in the car with my mom, on a new spring day, much like the ones we have been having recently here, her hand is on the back of my head sort of stroking the nape of my neck and we are listening to Laura Nyro singing; "Put on your high heeled sneakers, 'cause we're going out to night.."

I wish it weren't terribly innapropriate to use that line because if there was ever anyone who enjoyed the best parts of her life in high heeled sneakers it was probably her.

I was going to follow up with some of my moms other favorite artists and my car memories of their music, 'cause that's how I fell asleep, composing a mental mix-tape called 'music my mother drove too'. but I can't decide if that's just going overboard. Besides she didn't have exhaustive taste, theres's only about 4 artists.

Maybe I will make the mix in webjay and then post it. I don't know how I am going to find anything by Nana Mouskourie (especially since I can't spell it) or the song, "My Louis" by Neil Diamond though, and those are essential.

A quick image of the Neil diamond memory. It was my favorite car song for a while. I used to think I was "very cool" when we listened to it, and my mother and I would sing along;

"Hey my cherie
If I take you home
Will you make me plead?
My sweet amour
If I come to close
Will you close the door?"

My mom had this crazy black hair that would push out the window if it was open..and we would be wiggling around in our bucket seats snapping our fingers etc..

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