Imagination, of course, can open any door– turn the key and let the terror walk right in.
– Truman Capote
No. 1 Richard Hickock: “It was early, not yet nine…”
No. 2: “Nancy Clutter is always in a hurry, but she always has time.”
No. 3 Truman Capote: “In Cold Blood- a true account of a multiple murder and its consequences.”
No. 4 Kenyon Clutter: “… so I took him down and to the playroom where there was a comfortable looking couch.”
No. 5 Herbert Clutter: “The master of River Valley Farm, Herbert William Clutter, was forty-eight years old…”
No. 6: “… 7 miles west of Garden City.”
No. 7 Bonnie Clutter: “… poor Bonnie’s affliction was in the least a secret.”
No. 8 Bonnie Clutter: “… had resurrected her ‘old self’; as if serving up a preview of the normality…”
No. 9 Floyd Wells: “His drowsiness instantly vanished when he heard, officers investigating tragic slaying of four members of the Herbert W. Clutter family…”
No. 10A: “Truman sits with his coffee, reading the New York Times. He sits up straight, folds the paper over, reads it. C/U of article being snipped out of PAGE 39 of the Times.” [Capote Screenplay by Dan Futterman]
No. 10B: “I think this is what I want to write about.” [Capote Screenplay by Dan Futterman]
No. 11 Perry Smith: “Were any representatives of the cinema there?” [Life Magazine, May 12, 1967]
No. 12 Nancy Clutter: “The snake swallows you? Or what?”
No. 13 Richard Hickock: “Well, hell, give it all to us then.”
No. 14 Harper Lee: “You’re the only one I know with the qualifications to be both research assistant and personal bodyguard.” [Capote Screenplay by Dan Futterman]
No. 15: Forty seven dollars.
No. 16: EXT KANSAS STATE PENITENTIARY (KSP) LANSING-DAY. [Capote Screenplay by Dan Futterman]
No. 17 Walter Hickock Sr.: “The judge up there! I have never seen a man so prejudiced… No sense. Just no sense having a trial.”
No. 18 Susan Kidwell: “Susan Kidwell, her confidante…”
No. 19 Richard Avedon: “Perry, honey. You look terrific.” [Capote Screenplay by Dan Futterman]
No. 20: “My cup runneth over…”
No. 21 Alvin Dewey’s cat: “Courthouse Pete, the family watchcat. Pete weighs 13 pounds.” – from Harper Lee’s article in the Grapevine, March 2960
No. 22 Truman Capote: “Imagination, of course, can open any door– turn the key and let the terror walk right in.”
No. 23 The Big Yellow Bird: “… the yellow bird, huge and parrot-faced, board in Perry’s dream, an avenging angel who savaged his enemies or, as now, rescued him in moments of mortal danger.””
No. 24 Truman Capote: “It scraped me right to the marrow of my bones. It nearly killed me. I think, in a way, it did kill me.”
No. 25 Perry and Dick: “A week in Mexico City…”
No. 26: Plot Analysis
No. 27: In the District Court of Finney County Kansas. The State of Kansas (Plaintiff) vs. Richard Eugene Hickock and Perry Edward Smith (Defendants), No. 2322
No. 28: “Autumn rewards western Kansas for the evils that the remaining seasons impose.”
No. 29: “Or the moon. Oh, he can fool you.”
No. 30: “Using their paws as though they are surgical instruments, the cats extract from the grilles every feathery particle.”
No. 31: “He looked at his fingers, which were stained with ink and paint, for he’d spent his final three years on Death Row painting self-portraits and pictures of children, usually the children of inmates who supplied him with photographs of their seldom-seen progeny.”
We are like the dreamer who dreams and then lives inside the dream.
I process my obsessions through creativity. And there is a lot to process as we have reached “the end” of Twin Peaks: The Return.
A Lynch fan since Eraserhead, deeply deeply influenced and inspired by The Elephant Man and Blue Velvet, I recall cutting out the news article about the pilot in early 1990. It showed Ronette Pulaski walking across the railroad bridge.
I recall the cultural shift when the show aired on April 8, 1990. The camaraderie as the weekly episodes were inspected and analyzed voraciously.
Our family’s countless trips to North Bend and travelling to all the sites from the show.
Staying at the “Great Northern” (The Salish Lodge) and walking down to the falls.
Meeting the one armed man and the man from another place (the arm) on the streets outside of the RR Diner during the first Twin Peaks festival. They signed our copy of Lolita- she is filled with secrets.
Drinking coffee and eating cherry pie at the RR diner.
Multiple trips, multiple times.
Being FREAKED OUT by Bob (to this day). On a visit to Las Vegas Fall 1990, I saw Bob silhouetted by the lights outside, in front of the sheer curtains, sitting in a lounge chair. He leaned forward and turned his head towards me. I leapt out of bed. JEEEEEEEEEZUS.
Reading Laura Palmer’s diary a gazillion times and collecting every clipping, article, book, collecting, collecting.
Trading fan art on instagram.
Looking for clues in every other Lynch film.
This new season was so much about my generation aging. Beautifully aging.
Aging is celebrated, honoured by Lynch.
I have wept for my own losses. All the life markers experienced since that first episode aired. (The log lady looking so much like my mother before she passed.)
We are like the dreamer who dreams and then lives inside the dream.
I had planned to be in New York City on July 28th this summer, sitting at the Rogers Theatre with my daughter celebrating, watching Hamilton, the Musical. We would have just completed two days of sock monkey workshops at Graham Windham with children and families (Eliza Hamilton’s orphanage). I was going to bring my sock monkeys of the entire main cast of the musical.
Sadly, fate/destiny/universe had other plans. I didn’t get the gigs I expected to have over the summer and as of May, I found myself all of a sudden struggling again to get by. Dang. More setbacks and lack of consistent work made things even harder.
And so the tickets were sold and plans changed. And I admit, I don’t think it hit me till today how truly heartbroken I am. But that is OK.
What I get from Hamilton is not about going to the show itself. It is about the creative process. It is about art about history. It is about the healing power of art. And the tenacity of art. I have been creating every day. For I am an artist with no choice. That is what I love about Hamilton and that dream hasn’t died. The message of the creation of Hamilton lives in my heart.
So today, as part of my studio clearance, raising funds and letting go, I have decided to release 4 of my sock monkeys and regroup. Start fresh. Blast the soundtrack. Surrender. And like Lin and Alexander, write my way out.
“210 years later, Eliza Hamilton’s orphanage — now a family services agency called Graham Windham — is still helping kids get their shot. Graham Windham serves over 4,500 kids and families each year. Just like Eliza’s husband, these kids survived a tough start in life. Graham Windham provides services like family counseling and treatment, after school academic support, health services, and other services that help kids thrive into adulthood.”
Here is my specially requested portrait of Eliza Hamilton for Graham Windham:
Her eyes “betokened a sharp intelligence [and] a fiercely indominable spirit,” [Ron] Chernow writes in the biography. – smithsonian.com
Grieving, but now out of her husband’s shadow, Elizabeth threw herself into charity work inspired by her Christian faith and her husband’s upbringing. She and two other women founded the Orphan Asylum Society, New York City’s first private orphanage, in 1806. She served as its second directress until 1821 and then first directress until 1848, raising funds, collecting donated goods, and supervising the care and education of at least 765 children. – smithsonian.com
Spreading sock monkey love is one of my favorite things:
Being age 54 and “single” I am often asked (by people my own age),
Are you dating anyone now?
When my response is one of raised eyebrows and a cynical laugh, and an adamant, I have no interest, I often get the NEVER SAY NEVER statement.
Oh my God. I know I know— who knows what lies ahead. But, seriously, at age 54 and with lots of LIFE under my belt- I have the right to plead:
Please never say never say never to me.
There is an implication that by not being with a partner, I am not whole.
Also, please don’t say:
You’ll find someone eventually.
You shouldn’t put yourself down!
You aren’t ugly.
You just don’t know what you want.
I don’t need to defend myself, but I feel I need to advocate for us asexual middle agers, who despite who we were before, whatever the hell came before, who we fucked, loved, identified as, whatever- we are WHOLE now.
WHAT BEING ACE MEANS TO ME:
Opening up to defining myself as ace and what that means to me feels relieving right now.
• I have found my identity that really explains to me who I am now.
• Life is fluid and so am I.
• Every stage of my life has been magical, deep, rich.
Touch me life, not softly. – Maya Angelou
• I have experienced joy, lust, juice, frenzy, quiet, cozy, lovely, scary, gutsy, sensual heterosexual love.
• I have witnessed and been astounded by the earthy, gorgeous beauty of my body carrying and birthing two children.
• I have had crushes on men and women, madness, deep love, incredulous love, frustrating love, zany love.
• I have been happily married.
• I have been heartbroken.
• Though I have experienced heartache and trauma, I am not ace because of those experiences.
• I experienced intense freedom and a feeling of coming home when the pain of divorce finally subsided.
• I have been single since 2001. No- scratch that, I’ve been me since 1962.
• I have zero interest in sexual relationships.
• I still love me though and my ever shifting body.
• I have zero interest in getting to know someone romantically.
• I do have crushes on minds.
• And I admit, I have romantic types
• The overarching crush is Lol in This is England.
• But it shifts from having a crush to wanting to look like her. Yeah, I want to look like her, wear Fred Perry clothes, maybe hang out as twins. Kick some people in the ass or on the chin with shit covered boots.
• Not a single cell, molecule, atom in my body is interested in dating.
• There’s no interest in spending the time or making the room.
• I admit I have zero interest in small talk and getting to know new people at parties unless its about some kind of creative endeavour or really interesting stuff.
• Observing the game makes me tired and all I can think about is wanting to make a sock monkey or draw something and wish I was wearing PJs.
• I love my friends.
• I love my family.
• I love my kids and we are so damn close.
• I love my kids’ friends. I sometimes steal them.
• I love having freedom to laugh and be myself.
YUP, THIS IS ME:
My friend Matt wrote me the day the other day-
Asexuality is fucking hard to breach because people of all sexualities can’t comprehend it. It will be the next big “coming out” I think for many people. Apparently there was a study done that millennials are having less sex than any other generation. Perhaps there’s a correlation. Not that asexuals can’t create and enjoy pleasure. They’re just more self sufficient about it.
So next time you see me in the corner with my head buried in a book and not at the bar scanning the room or reviewing potentials on Tinder- know that I’m good. I’m good!