Year: 2007

Yesterday Rachel called to report that my book is in the front, “recommended and new” section of Borders.

Today I checked and yeah, it is true….. I’m a few titles down from Kerry Katona!

This was of course way too strange so I marched off to check on the swans. They hatched while I stood there staring in amazement. It was so cool!

Today I went to the fun fair and nurtured a vague fantasy about becoming a carny – I’ve always wanted to have a proper job!

Plus I did something entirely out of character and astonishing: I rode the bumper cars. First time since my head was smashed up nineteen years ago – and I had so much fun!

Jeffrey wrote to ask if I knew someone who grew up on the peninsula and I replied:

Nobody with that name grew up in my part of the county when I was there! That is a north county / Bainbridge Island name, someone way younger, or made up as an adult….. 

Guess what? I was right – the girl in question is ten years younger and from Bainbridge. Funny how names can say so much about a person.

One recent friend was convinced that my name was secretly something normal like Sally Smith. If only! I’ve always wanted to be more ordinary than a Lavender! Nobody in the entire clan has ever professed to like the name.

The conversation turned to an inquiry about how life is treating me lately and I said I’m awesome! Everything is confusing but I have new glasses so hey! No problem!

Jeffrey answered New glasses. New perspective. You are so damn metaphorical! 

Unfortunately he is correct. I need to work on that.

I met the always delightful Stevie Ann for lunch in the East Village, during which she teased me in a comprehensive and knowledgeable fashion.

Her observations and questions were, as always, way too insightful. I spent a large part of the meal with my face down on the table, laughing helplessly and only surfacing to inquire Is this how real grown-ups talk??

She replied I’m just prompting because you don’t know how to play!

Over the course of the afternoon we walked around in the sunshine catching up on all of the news and gossip that has accumulated in the five or six months since our last visit, then stopped at a flea market.

My lucky dress had by then nearly died – the back seam featuring a rip of about eight inches – but I found a vintage dress with tags still on. We both bought new outfits, then changed on the sidewalk in front of the Boys Club (yes, my driving need for modesty is erratic and irrational – I am much more likely to be found half naked on a city sidewalk…. than in my own home).

It is a tremendous honor that Stevie asked me to be her date to the reunion, and took me along to her father’s celebratory birthday dinner. I bought her first legal drink, we’ve been on tour together, performed together, remained close across years, great distances, real and brutal trauma.

Stevie is the only friend who has ever spent the night at my aunt’s house, and one of the very few who has extracted an admission of love from my reticent self. I’m so lucky to know her:

Love hears, love knows, love answers across the silent miles and goes. — W.H. Auden

Ten minutes before boarding a flight to NYC I decided to text most of my UK friends to reveal a secret I feel gleeful about. I was quite surprised that most of the people who read the message were shocked and concerned – the story isn’t exactly news, even if my inclination to talk about the subject might be. I reassured everyone of my inherent buoyancy (and the fact that I would never share bad news) then dashed away!

My long-standing policy of ignoring strangers on airplanes was challenged immediately, when I realized that the person next to me was reading through a binder full of what appeared to be lady porn featuring titles like The Shaman and characters named Graywolf.

I was tempted to inquire if she was a fan or an editor but resolutely turned toward the movie screen, where I caught the first bit of Stranger than Fiction before the channel cut out, leaving me without any clue of how the movie ends or what the narrative might have been suggesting. This was unfortunate since I thought the bits I watched quite funny, including the question posed by one character (paraphrasing): Who in their right frame of mind given the choice between pancakes and being alive chooses pancakes?

Hmm. Well, me! Except of course I don’t like pancakes. But swap other temptations in, and you’ve summed up not only my fundamental world view but also the theme of the whole trip.

All of my normal places to stay in NYC fell through but Margaret graciously offered to host me in her studio on the Lower East Side. We met up for an Ethiopian dinner and chattered away about body image and love. At one point she said If you have a hunchback you can just throw a little glitter on it, you know? We all have problems. Everyone has been there.

Over drinks at a hipster bar she told me a long and hilarious tale of going to the desert alone, where she was pursued by strange creatures before laying down in the sand convinced she would die. Then it was back to her haunted bachelorette pad, where I crashed in a deep jetlagged sleep.

In the morning I thanked her fervently for the hospitality and then wandered around the neighborhood a bit, completely amazed by how friendly everyone in the states appears compared to the way people act in England. Beyond that, NYC has always felt comfortable, like a home I want to find, even when the city is at its most challenging.

During the long train ride through working class New Jersey towns I stared out the window, feeling homesick and thinking about the fact that my passport was issued in 2000 and at that point I was so paranoid about travel the experience was almost unbearable.

Now I like the uncertain, in-between moments best of all – a remarkable change in such a short period of time.

I had a couple of free hours before anyone showed up, and settled in the room before venturing out to the boardwalk to admire the ruined buildings:

Several weeks of visitors and interviews had rendered me somewhat unfit for human companionship; my voice was almost entirely gone by the time I found my oldest friend after several years separation. He said It’s nice to see you, Bee.

I replied It’s nice to see you, James, even if I’m dying!

His answer was swift: Well that’s nothing new. I don’t know what you’re complaining about!

We laughed and talked and caught up on sundry issues, and a few hours after meeting he even remembered to ask after the children. One of whom is named after him.

It seemed prudent to scope out how long it would take to get to the wedding venue, and we found that it was only a three minute walk:

Then we wandered around, admiring more of what Asbury Park has on offer:

Later we caught up with the happy couple at Jess’ family home, including a crew of British people. I forced myself to tell the truth about my work; this was difficult but I persevered and quite enjoyed the conversations, particularly with an anesthetist who listened to me laughing, cocked his head, and informed me that I have asthma.

I protested but he commented The fact that you haven’t been diagnosed doesn’t mean you don’t have it. Stop laughing!

After the party seven or eight of us crammed into a taxi meant for four, James wedged across our laps narrating what he saw in the night sky. Does this sound completely out of character for yours truly to put up with? Why yes, yes it does!

We were collectively surprised to learn that our hotel is semi-officially queer and features a gay bar the likes of which it is hard to find outside the confines of small-town America.

Standing around watching a drag show of varying quality we laughed and applauded the good bits and winced over the bad. At one point I commented It fits somewhere in critical theory but nowhere I want to go!

Stephen replied Not with that dress on! and I nearly spit out my drink.

The next day James and I wandered all over town and rested for awhile to prepare for the antics of the evening. I talked to Anna Ruby on the telephone briefly, then Stevie called and left a message that she would be in NY to attend her high school reunion and that I should go with her because The way I see things, you kinda owe me!

What can I say about the wedding? Every last bit of the event was wonderful, in every possible detail, including the posters friends made:

Not to mention the vows, the blessing, the Ketubah, the gathering statement by Stephen including an Auden quote that made me cry.

And, of course, we danced:

The Luminescent Orchestrii played and we all toasted the happy couple, eating food, talking, bowling:

Friends new and old celebrated and had a fantastic time:

A family friend named Pearl offered the toast Nobody worked harder for happiness than Jess.

This is true. I wish both her and Brian every possible wish as they move forward through life.

I started writing the Guardian article about two hours before it was due. There was just enough time to hand my rough draft to Iain for edits (he suggested perhaps five, all minor and most about British word usage), and turned it in without further revision.

The editors asked me to expand the piece by one third, and thirty minutes later they accepted my changes with only one small request for clarification. The essay as published on Saturday is almost identical to the first version I scrambled out without enough caffeine Thursday morning.

For better or worse, this is how I work – intermittently, with sustained bursts of productivity. I write every day for several hours, and take notes incessantly, but I produce a finished product only in thrall to an external deadline.

This is because I write for the sake of writing, not to create a marketable commodity. But when I have agreed to produce something for publication the reason is even more basic: I was trained in a very specific and disciplined method where an essay as properly formulated is constructed and executed while a timer clicks in sixty minute intervals.

When I made the mistake of mentioning this to my agent she replied by text I’ve decided you’re going to do fiction next. I want a good literary novel by the end of the summer please.

I said that I lack the skills for such endeavors and she responded Well write about your past disguised as fiction like every other first time novelist!

When I pointed out that Lessons in Taxidermy mines all of the bits of my history I am willing to put on public display, and that my ethical code does not allow harvesting outside of certain boundaries, she just said Nonsense!

Susan is of course overly optimistic. The other day Jeffrey was telling me a scandalous tale and shopped just short of the juicy bits, saying I’ll leave the rest up to your imagination!

I protested But I don’t have one!

The other day Rachel suggested my next book should be called Advice I gave Rachel that she didn’t take!

Jean retorted Or you can be really charitable and write ‘Continental Influences on the Common Law of Contracts 1600-1800!’

That sounds like great fun! I have a hidden yet sincere love of legal history. David says I missed my calling and should have been an ethnographer, but I find legal principles more interesting than… people.

On his last full day in town Gordon and I lounged around on the boat for hours chatting, then had a drink at the Fort St. George. We tried to meet various people but only managed to transfer our drinking to the Eagle, where we gossiped about esoteric aspects of punk history:

You don’t want to know what I have to say on the subject, but he did! Around the time we bored of the topic Rachel finally caught up with us:

Gordon said my next book should be Robot No More: an Inspiring Tale of Becoming Human which is pretty hilarious, since of course I’m not yet finished with my research on that subject. On the walk over to the Maypole I spotted Iain (the music teacher version) chatting with some buskers and then he spontaneously joined the show:

Over the course of several days I polled everyone I met on the question of what I should do after the wedding in New Jersey: hang out in NYC doing stuff I’m familiar with and seeing friends, or setting off on an unknown adventure?

The only person who voted against adventure was Josh, though I caught him unawares while he was paying for groceries. Greta cast the final vote (strongly in favor of mystery) before I went ahead and bought tickets to a destination that is top secret.

At the Maypole Gordon hazarded the guess I know; you are going on a Watsu retreat!

I admitted ignorance and he said Shiatsu in water! You’ll love it! There will be lots of naked hippies in a hot tub!

Karen interjected And bodily fluids!

Gordon continued and one will say, Hey sister need a backrub? You’ll respond, Why yes, yes I do!

I shuddered and denied that this is my plan just as Rachel absconded with my journal again. Sarah said It’s amazing the liberties she takes with you!

Rachel hollered I’m not afraid! before adding comments to the last week of entries.

Back on the topic of my trip Gordon said I actually think she is going outlet shopping!

Sarah hazarded To the Leggs store to buy panty hose in eggs!

I honestly don’t know which of the two options would be worse.

After we said goodbye Sarah called after me Don’t drink the patchouli!

Last night I was lounging around in rooms at Sidney Sussex talking with new people and old friends when Rachel commented Really close friends aren’t supposed to confess they’re in love with you, they’re meant to live with the pain!

I asked Gordon if he agreed and he reported They’re not supposed to admit it to themselves!

How fascinating.

In entirely separate news I called James to talk about the upcoming trip to New Jersey. We haven’t spoken directly in at least four years and he was amazed at what he perceived as a dramatic difference.

He said Your voice has changed!

I asked how, and he said that it isn’t an accent but rather an adjustment in tenor and tone. He went on So, you just giggle a lot and say ‘awesome’ all the time now?

This is fairly accurate.

On Sunday afternoon Jean and Peter found me on the street and pulled me into a taxi to race off to Grantchester. We had a leisurely pub lunch and lounged around in the shade at the Orchard – clearly, a perfect day!

We were chatting about various people and I realized that although Rachel has known me for three years in often unruly circumstances she still thinks it a good plan to let me tell brutal and hilarious stories about what we’ve individually and collectively been up to – this is quite strange and amazing!

Sarah has known me the same length of time but exclusively when I am on my best behavior. On Saturday she had a snapshot of how I act when loose in the world, and her (admiring) comment after one of my more excessive but typical encounters was Wow – Bee is really mean!

This is true, but to state it more precisely: I do not exercise feminine wiles. I do not accommodate or ignore destructive behaviors.

In other words, I tell the truth, even if implied social codes tell me to keep my mouth shut.

This can be lots of fun at parties!

The last few days have featured madcap adventures and I have been particularly delighted to watch social worlds colliding. Endlessly fun!

Plus, isn’t Gordon just the best?

There isn’t room on my boat for the sort of drunken debauchery implied by a Cambridge party, so Jean kindly offered the loan of his flat for the revelries. I didn’t take many notes because I was busy having fun, so an observation:

My friends are so lovely!

I promised to start a scandalous rumor but I haven’t had my tea yet so I’ll leave it to your imagination.

The adorable host

A yummy dinner planned by Rachel and executed by helping hands. Leeks! Who knew:

Never put Jean in charge of the camera

Rachel sending racy texts from my phone

Gordon, the guest of honor