Sheer Volume

"Then Peter began to speak: "I now realize how true it is that God does not show favoritism but accepts men from every nation who fear him and do what is right. You know the message God sent to the people of Israel, telling the good news of peace through Jesus Christ, who is Lord of all." Acts 10:34-36

5, 883. That's how many hits I received since January 30, 2009.

I never knew what pleasure could be derived from the appearance of a little red dot. To see it in its infant stages and watch it bulge with growth was always a gentle cattle prod in the morning telling me to stick with it... It matters.

Every crimson colored speck on the map represented a person I may never see but certainly could touch.

The louder I spoke, I found myself imagining their lives, habits, surroundings. Where were they when they read my words? Were they invigorated or aggravated in a dusty crowded Internet cafe in Arusha Tanzania with the computers powered by a generator...were they smoking a joint overlooking Magen's Bay on the lush north end of St. Thomas, or sitting at a desk in the posh suburbs of Melbourne, bellied up in smoky pubs in Dormstadt Germany, cynically reading in spacious walk-ups in Queens?

Did my thoughts resonate from the Ivory Coast to Venezuela and in so many warm and familiar homes in Georgia...

Who were they? And what did they think of me?

Were they cheering me on as I steadfastly chased the horizon or were they envious with regret and hoped for my blatant failure?

Did they scoff at my recreational use of mind expanders , want to slap me for my ungratefulness at my abundant blessings , wonder why the hell I am caught up in my plans versus my neighbors salvation?

Did I assist in annoying their set political beliefs? Or did I make them think, question their place, help them reach out to someone who was lost, capture their attention? If they stumbled upon me, were their gains fortuitous?

What if I facilitated a long awaited reckoning? What if I bored the shit out of you?

Did I whisper Jesus' name for the first time to a seeking reader? Did I say it one too many times for a scorned unbeliever?

My calling from the Lord Jesus has always been to preach the gospel of tolerance to every creed, color, and culture.

And my request has remained to receive the same....

I knew I wanted to write for me. But didn't know I would be so touched by writing for you.

That beautifully decorated map resembling my blood to yours disappears today.

Thanks for tracking my progress.

Do you know what it feels like to wrap your arms around the globe..how about your neighbor?

**Steps of a Thailand Temple on my honeymoon

**Children's Prayer before a meal

**Orphanage in Africa

Take a Bow

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." Proverbs 13:12

If this comes off as me taking this monumental memory lightly, I apologize...It's just the Irish Pub below is blaring Benny and the Jets at high decibels and my ecstatic energy can not be harnessed and tamed for an allotted time to stare at a blank screen.

Tonight marks my theater debut in Manhattan. And a stellar one at that. If someone would have told me I would be drinking hot coffee with the director, rehearsing all day to take the barren stage at 45th Street Theater in front of a live audience on a Saturday night, my heart would have quietly exploded with pangs of wishful thinking...

But tonight under the dimmed house lights, performing Sex, Relationships, and Sometimes Love, I received instant affirmation that I am on the exact path I have sought after and prayed about my entire life. (Not to mention, my husband was beaming ear to ear in the front row)

I've been bitten and I can only pray I am never cured.

Applause all around...

"The costumes, the scenery, the makeup, the props
The audience that lifts you when you're down

The headaches, the heartaches, the backaches, the flops
The sheriff who escorts you out of town

The opening when your heart beats like a drum
The closing when the customers won't come

There's no business like show business
Like no business I know" Irving Berlin

Do you think there's nothing you can't do, now you're in New York?

Hit With Humility

He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him. Psalm 126:6

Sometimes falling feels like flying...for a little while.

Sometimes falling feels like flying....

Until you hit the ground.

On your feet for Jeff Bridges performance and cheers to second chance redemption.

Nothing like the rock bottom of a whiskey bottle to lace up your boots and climb upward...

We braved the 15 degree wind tunnel of West Houston connecting East River to Hudson for Crazy Heart's twang and were better for it.

I hope theater goers will do the same for me tomorrow.

Would you rather know what you want to do, or what you won't do again?

Out of the "Glass" Bowl...

"The mystery that has been kept hidden for ages and generations, but is now disclosed to the saints. Colossians 1:26

“I was an egregiously charming, able fellow, and it was at once a marked and curiously unimportant reflection on anyone’s taste if he thought otherwise.” JD Salinger

With Ernest Hemingway's encouragement....
He published his first short story in the New Yorker in 1948.

The author who's chief breathed animated life into The Laughing Man, who made a story about suicide, a sunny day at the beach, who made D-Day enchanting with Esme's affection.

A genius who defined and sculpted dialogue into a breathtaking piece of art, and made his characters psychological complexities understanding and sincere.

A man who fell so deeply in love with the people he created that he retreated inside of himself and into their life's saga in which he could unfold in imperfect peace.

He shook the literary world with a one shot to the gut with Catcher in the Rye, encompassing the bittersweet smell of teen angst that let all of us coming of age boys (and girls) have a rebellious hero to speak for us in this cynical world.

Holden Caulfield was right, there are indeed plenty of phonies in adulthood....

He tackled ego, fame, wealth, psychoanalysis, gossip, nervous breakdowns, depression, philosophy, art, religion, humanity, detachment, identity, love and death with a resounding voice, that for fifty years has remained silent.

In self imposed isolation, this prolific and enigmatic writer scorned adulation and turned his back on sensationalized success. And asked to be left alone.

He is the one main reason I love to write.

And as a devotee, I too must speculate...

Has he been hunched over a typewriter in his eerie reclusiveness unfolding his greatest pieces of fiction to date?

Jerome David Salinger raise high the roofbeams and rest in peace.1919-2010

Monologue

They will fight against you but will not overcome you, for I am with you and will rescue you," declares the LORD." 1:19

I knew he wouldn't eat a slice of humble pie and change his course so I didn't even rush home to watch the nonsense.

An external dialogue at 7:27 PM:

"Oh good for you Rockefeller 47-50 Street, good for you. Isn't that so nice to have a station called that. I'm so glad I live in the land of the free where I can drop a M-16 on the subway system. Oh isn't that nice Rockefeller.. Whatcha gonna do if I fly an M-16 here? Will you kiss the NYPD's ass? No, oh no because they will be on their knees saying, 'Bless you, Oh Bless the ground you walk on Bloomberg, Bless you Bloomberg, you can do no wrong. Yeah, arrest me, put me through the system, keep your water from me Bloomberg I tell you what, you put me through the system one more time, and Al Queda will look like a bunch of flowery faggots compared to me. Yeah, you won't be crying Al Queda, you'll be scared of me. And my M-16 NYPD. ARREST ME, ARREST ME, I'LL RUN STRAIGHT FOR YOU...."

He missed me giggling into my scarf but makes eye contact when I shake my head no. He comes screaming over at me and gets within inches of my face. I promise the entire train braced for impact. WHAT, he yells. I simply tell him I don't want him to get locked up.

"I appreciate that, but don't worry, I am have two nine millimeters stuffed in my jacket and if they come for me, the whole car is going out firing in a blaze of glory. That's right, we're all going down. Bam, Bam. Herald Square, oh that's real nice. Good for you Herald Square. They'll be there waiting for me to run me into the ground through their system."

And with that he backed out of the subway car and out of our lives.

Ahh rush hour....

Would we find similarities if we all voiced our struggles?

After School Special

"For you have been my hope, O Sovereign LORD, my confidence since my youth." Psalm 71:5

Surprise house calls to talent agencies this morning gives a life lesson in rejection resilience. Tonight, I'm reminded of another tough teacher...

Fifteen years. That's how much time had passed since I looked deeply into this friends eyes. Twenty years since I really saw her. Tonight, I did both.

New York City has provided a wealthy opportunity for me to reunite, make concessions, clear the air, and get a transparent picture of me then, in unspeakable ways.

As so many of us have fled here looking to molt and grow, we still find we carried some weight of the gunny sack with us.

High School. Ah yes high school, which I often speak of fondly seemed status quo to all of us kids trudging through life, hiding our own internal darkness as the teenage experience we endured was normal as far as we were consumed or concerned.

But upon closer evaluation, it wasn't the mean girls, break ups, sneaking drinks, getting pregnant, dying on prom night kind of education.

It was heartbreak.

And our innocence faded into the blurred lines of parents abandonment, herpes epidemic, concealed guns, hidden rape, lying cocaine and suicide.

Now I know...this wasn't even next to normal for bright eyed babies grasping at this thing called life. Not even close.

Somewhere between sitting shoulder to shoulder on our seventh grade school bus to staring at her angelic adult face in a quiet Village dive lit by stained glass, we realized we had missed a great deal of one another's pain and made an urgent date to share in our present joy....

Don't you gain strength from every growth spurt?

Between the Ears

"Your eyes will see strange sights and your mind imagine confusing things." Proverbs 23:33

Oh My God...I am wandering aimlessly.

I took to Chinatown's epicenter for a helping of stimuli madness. Somewhere between the cooked duck hanging from their necks and crabs running for their lives over sneakers on the market floors, it worked..

The all too prevalent act of infidelity has momentarily derailed my life and I am back to the drawing board....in search of honest income. (Scorcese is offering $850 a day for nudity)

Do you know when a person is recalling stored information, they shift their eyes to the right?

When they are fabricating escape holes to get them out of the tight spot, their eyes look left?

Just a private dick tip. And a surefire way to make your mind wander and wonder.

New York City in late January is not the most desirable location to shoot television and film. In fact it is a cold dead calm. Or this is the white lie lullaby I use to soothe myself over my quiet phone.

Casting agents are in search of a certain look. If you possess that look. You better have a monologue memorized to recite on the spot. Or your look is worth shit.

Here is my choice:

TRUDY: Here we are standing on the corner of "Walk, Don't Walk." You look away form me, trying not to catch my eye, but you didn't turn fast enough, did you?
I know what you're thinkin'; You're thinkin' I'm crazy. You think I give a hoot? You people look at my shopping bags, call me crazy 'cause I collect this junk. What should we call the ones who buy it?
It's my belief we all, one time or another secretly ask ourselves the question, "Am I crazy?" In my case the answer came back: A resounding YES!
The symptoms are subtle but unmistakable to the trained eye. For instance, here I am standing at the corner of "walk, don't walk" waiting for these aliens from outer space to show up. I call that crazy don't you? if I were sane, I should be waiting for the light like everyone else.
They're late, as usual.
You'd think, as much as they know about time travel, they could be on time once in a while.
I could kick myself. I told them I'd meet 'em on the corner of "walk, Dont walk" 'round lunchtime. Do they even know what lunch means? I doubt it.
When they get here they'll probably dying to know what "lunchtime" means and when they find out it means going to Howard Johnson's for fried clams, I wonder, will they be a bit let down?
I dread having to explain tartar sauce.

Lilly Tomlin- Search for Intelligent Life in the Universe

Were you expecting something more sane?