January 21, 1996 (#9) (and before ...)

Dear darling diary-iest diary,

Here I be luxuriating in this dry Arizona heat back from my "O simply too swell" time in LA visiting the muscular, physically and mentally!, Mr. Joseph Palermo. I gnash my molars and rend my 100% nylon platinum hair at the thought of abandoning you for over a month. I declare that my resolution for 1996 is to try and be more faithful to you in bringing you the most on up to the minute coverage of my sometimes excruciatingly fabulous life. I suppose that could be a considered a bit over the top, but then the same has been said about me. It's no wonder. Yes, 1996 is turning out to be a peach of a year. But first let's go over the pits.

ZACH! Where are you? All I received for Christmas from you was that bloody note, and I mean bloody literally. What is going on and if this is a silly prank you are going to wish you had 6 inch heels. Don't mind me, I'm just harsh because I care so. The strange point thing is that I find this note not in my mailbox like any other rational human in danger, but next to some rocks near Alburquerque. How did you know where I was, have you been following me? What's your line? Are you Kitty Carlisle in disguise? I am simply looney with worry.

By the by and on the QT (what the hell is QT besides suntan dye?), reliable sources tell me that Christ was in all likelihood born sometime in August but that those silly girls, in trying to convert pagans, had to come up with some type of divine celebration to overshadow the winter solstice. Christmas Voilą! That's what I call assimilation, but then you have that nasty business with the Inquisition and other unmentionables. I suppose nobody is perfect.

Back to Zach. Someone who reads this private diary must know something. I am assuming that Zach had a few friends besides lizards and psychedelic mushroooms. We need to organize before I really begin to worry. I am simply at the "just wanting attention" level of worry now.

Zach disappears, now Sage has taken a dark turn. Related? Unknown at this point, but even in her somber hallucinatory state, she still shines in verse. If only I could help the poor child through her maturation angst. Ahh the sweet searing pain of growing.

Enough of this unpleasantness. Worry worry worry, I simply have to find a job to get my mind off this "fallderall". I cringe that that I have massacred the spelling of that oh so useful noun, but they don't teach such practical things in parochial school. BUT, lest you think me uneducated, I CAN spell transubstantiation! Hah!

Oh dear, I am in a state.

So, goodness, what have I been up to and who has been up to me.

I spent the Winter Solstice (not with George Winston, horrorific!) with Joey. He kept me quite well and made sure that I wanted for nothing during my brief stay in a lovely hamlet known as "WeHo". You all must simply "try the wine" as they say. I felt deluxe all the way. Lovely weather too! Joe continues to keep me abreast of this comings and goings and I think we have even become closer because of my visit.

In meeting Joe, he reminded me of a mutual acquaintance from prior years in northern California. (No, I don't say Northern California, it's not a state yet missy so cool your jets!) A certain Miss Betty. Well in less time than it takes to boot an Indigo, I had received two letters from that Betty. I suppose that Joe has a hand in this, but he swears he's clean. Hmmmm.

And like beachballs held underwater, a new friend has popped up. This sweet thing likes to be called Jeffrey or sometimes Areta (so named by the Draginatrix). And all I can say is that rascal has written two letters, titled Walloped Nipples and Wrinkled Resolutions. What is a girl to do! I simply had to broadcast this mammals yearnings and private moments despite any damage that may befall my person. This is real angst from the real world, you can just feel the tears. It's the feel-good e-mail of the year! You'll laugh, you'll etc.....

After Los Angeles I started east again and zipped by the Grand Canyon. Lordy was it big. Bigger than, well, just really big. Perhaps had my early years not been over complete with cassocks and penguins I could have simply wept at the religious splendour of it all. As it was I just simply drooled at the expanse. I charge you all to simply stop reading and go see it. Who knows where it will be tomorrow? Maybe it will fill up? Granted not likely, but who knows. Go. Now. I'll wait.

Sometime in all this Jewel sent me a postage stamp size note about the San Francisco Ballet. I think he enjoyed it, but he was strangely brief. Very Un-jewel like. Perhaps he got himself all knotted up in a dance belt.

Sometime around 5 or so on New Year's Eve I ended up for a quick bite in Tuba City Arizona. As I had heard so many wonderful things about the Tuba City Truck Stop's Navajo Tacos, I pulled in and placed my order. Mr. Lancelot remained in the car while Abattoir begged to allowed to join me. In the spirit of ultimate tolerance I agreed. I might say that I even enjoyed myself. Abattoir managed not to sneer once during our spirited meal and I would say we even managed to crack a smile out of the waiter. The tacos were delicious, that's all I will say, and certainly worth the calories. Lovely. However, I was not able to obtain a pre-celebratory sazerac, nor anything containing alcohol for that matter, so we pressed onwards.

A lovely drive took be to the border of Monument national park and by traveling companions begged for a motel. Well, seeing as it was New Year's and all, I acquiesced. I registered us all as the Smith family and we took a double on the second floor of someplace with tiki gods in the lobby. What tiki gods and big rocks have in common I am still pondering. After settling in, we simply had to start a little party. The motel was rather empty but we found a few hardy souls unpacking their car soon after we arrived and invited them over for a bit of bubbly. In the spirit of discretion, I will simply refer to them as the Magnificient Ambersons. Well, good thing I am well-stocked. We went through the three bottles of champagne I had procured upon arriving and then they became enchanted with the idea of trying a sazerac. As I was unusually out of Peychaud, I improvised a zazerac substituting orangewater and angostura.

The poor souls never knew what hit them. At some point we acquired about four more revelers who brought reinforcements and a bit of food. It's possible the management came to visit too but I am not to clear on that point. The real drama came when the Magnificent Ambersons passed out somewhat scantily clad (you see my shocked follicles, it had gotten rather warm in our tiny room), Ms. Magnificent Amberson in the arms of what I was told was a soccer player from Mexico and Mr. Amberson rather rudely sandwiched between Abattoir and Mr. Lancelot. Shocked, no no my dears. You see champagne was meant for living and I like to make sure all have a good time. Besides, there was nothing even vaguely illicit taking place and I took pictures just to keep everybody in line if need be.

My poor Lance. Someone had set a Scotch on the floor and I think the dear thing lapped it up and he's just not used to anything except rye and water! Oh there was hell to pay for that, let me assure you.

Everyone roused themselves in one way or another and we have become just the closest of friends even though not a one of them, please sit down my sensitivos, has in any way connected electronically.

It was like visiting a tribe of natives that have never seen a pair of well fitting briefs! They were to charming and I think that I love them all the more.

That's just about all I can handle for now. My resolution for 1996 was to be brief but more constant but maybe it will be my February resolution.

The sky's the limit and you are too.
Trudy.