Lady Day Saturday
Listening to Billy Holiday. Such a gorgeous backdrop to the morning. It's early, 7:30, and I am wide awake due to new meds. I barely slept last night after falling out around 4:30 in the afternoon and waking up around 8:30. Looked up side effects of my lovely new drug, Lexapro, and I pretty much have all of them. They're supposed to go away in a week or two. Guess I'll wait it out as I already feel somewhat better emotionally. Had to wave the white flag and admit Chemical MJ is better than Regular MJ for all concerned. Kids especially. Can see them in therapy as adults, "My mother was a screaming, crying maniac...that's why I'm a drug fiend, mugger, murderer, woman or man hater, terrorist, hijacker, etc. etc." Now whatever goes wrong in their adult lives they can blame on their father!
Billy Holiday reminds me of my dad. He loved her, and the first time I heard her was in his car on a trip back into NYC. Poor Sonny was always having to drive me home after I'd come out for a visit to L.I. He had a cassette player in his Lincoln and Holiday was part of his tape collection along with lots of Sinatra, K.C. and the Sunshine Band and the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever. My dad was never like the other dads in the neighborhood. He was a Brooklyn tough, hated sports and the suburbs, was a killer dancer and charmed everybody he met...unless he didn't like them. Then he was scary. He wasn't a good husband, but he was a good father. He took me everywhere with him when I was a little girl...some places I shouldn't have been in retrospect. But I think he did the best he knew how for us kids, and we all knew he loved us a lot. What he showed me is that there was a life outside of the safe little neighborhood we lived in, and I will always love him for that. He adored Manhattan and passed that on to me. I miss him lately.
Me and Sonny, Jane Street, NYC, circa 1986
Listening to Billy Holiday. Such a gorgeous backdrop to the morning. It's early, 7:30, and I am wide awake due to new meds. I barely slept last night after falling out around 4:30 in the afternoon and waking up around 8:30. Looked up side effects of my lovely new drug, Lexapro, and I pretty much have all of them. They're supposed to go away in a week or two. Guess I'll wait it out as I already feel somewhat better emotionally. Had to wave the white flag and admit Chemical MJ is better than Regular MJ for all concerned. Kids especially. Can see them in therapy as adults, "My mother was a screaming, crying maniac...that's why I'm a drug fiend, mugger, murderer, woman or man hater, terrorist, hijacker, etc. etc." Now whatever goes wrong in their adult lives they can blame on their father!
Billy Holiday reminds me of my dad. He loved her, and the first time I heard her was in his car on a trip back into NYC. Poor Sonny was always having to drive me home after I'd come out for a visit to L.I. He had a cassette player in his Lincoln and Holiday was part of his tape collection along with lots of Sinatra, K.C. and the Sunshine Band and the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever. My dad was never like the other dads in the neighborhood. He was a Brooklyn tough, hated sports and the suburbs, was a killer dancer and charmed everybody he met...unless he didn't like them. Then he was scary. He wasn't a good husband, but he was a good father. He took me everywhere with him when I was a little girl...some places I shouldn't have been in retrospect. But I think he did the best he knew how for us kids, and we all knew he loved us a lot. What he showed me is that there was a life outside of the safe little neighborhood we lived in, and I will always love him for that. He adored Manhattan and passed that on to me. I miss him lately.
Me and Sonny, Jane Street, NYC, circa 1986
posted by MJ at 7:35 AM
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