Blog #4 April 14, 2017–Good Friday
Book Tour Worries
Less than two months away. Fly Albany to Raleigh, and then back and forth and up and down on the east coast. (I have posted my book travel itinerary and I hope to meet some of you in these places.)
This is the time I always worry about what to wear and how I am going to “appear.” Many years have passed since I finally worked out the clothes thing. Now I am confident in my costumes. A twenty-six year old silver Armani jacket. Some silky under blouse or shell. Shimmery long skirt or dress pants. Two pieces of jewelry: a charmingly irregular Victorian costume brooch with colored stones and a double strand of Venetian beads made by a woman in Woodstock. And the only pair of shoes with court heels that will agree with my feet.
That’s the outer wear. Now for the inner protectors for the soul. (“Dresse and undresse the soul,” as George Herbert adjures me.) And soul-wise, I’m more or less equipped, with the Soul Protector leading the way, the Mask Bearer floating above (“Don’t look so fierce and difficult. Remember to smile.”) And my old, old companion The Worrier, who watches over me when I’m writing and worries that I’m going to fail. But after all these years, I realize he wishes me NOT to fail. That thing he is carrying is an orange, in case I need sustenance or moisture.
And then, oh then, the unforeseen happenings that can’t be imagined yet. You get to the gate, out of breath, to be told your flight has been cancelled. No reason. To re-book, you will want to go back to the main concourse and get re-accommodated on another flight. That has happened more than once and will happen again if the scheduled flight is not full enough to make a profit.
And THEN, a whole new thing to worry about. Yes, is there anyone left who hasn’t seen that video of the bloody, screaming Chinese doctor being dragged down the aisle by three lugs in baggy jeans? Isn’t it a picture of sadism incarnate as it goes about satisfying the necessities of corporate profit?
Having resumed my old habit of drawing with colored pencils (begun, as it happens, on the morning of November 9, 2016), I found myself IN GLEE as I worked on getting the fingernails exactly right on those beefy hands lugging me down the aisle, my stomach on display for the world to see.
That scream is destined to become a ringtone.