You know in movies when a crack appears on the floor, or wall, or whatever life-supporting surface relevant to the story, and suddenly the crack spreads in all directions and you know that this means BIG trouble? Well as a bona-fide melodramatic insecure narcissist this is a perfect visual to illustrate this winter and spring.
The first mini-crack appeared in January, when on a -16 degree C° night the electricity failed, and thus the heat as well. There’s only so much body heat that four dogs will supply and it is very hard to train them to hang on as you wander your house lamenting. This set off a chain of events which included my brain exploding from an overdose of anatomy study (literally, of course), total professional disillusionment, being conned by a money launderer, half assaulted on a train (not the fun half), stepped on by a big-ass horse, stopped for speeding (several times), losing what little employment was left, relapsing into some unhealthy behavior and….the big chasm: heart ripped, torn, squeezed, bungee-jumped and squished like a bug. Dramaaaaaaa !!! Lotsa cracks. So basically I have been wearing my pain and self-pity for months, like one of those gigantic (now slightly smelly) fox fur coats from the 70s. A friend of mine (incredibly talented and funny whose movie Gayby everyone should see and which I will talk about in reviews) once exclaimed out of frustration in my bathroom: “I hate myself and I want to dye”. And he did, a pink streak framing his face, à la L7 (god the 90s…). But I am pushing middle age, my hair can’t take much more dyeing and I do not want to die, never ever ever. Thankfully I think I've been saved, Halleluiah! By New York, by old friends, by new friends, by a mentally handicapped dog and a stubborn retired racehorse, by the ridiculous factor of it all.