Saturday, September 4, 2010

Love, Loss and What I Ate


I went to L.A. for three days or so. Not for the reason I expected but for the reason I needed. To see friends. And not the friends you often read me write about (I was going to write "hear me write about" but that just seemed too stoopid for written word) but the ones I obviously needed to see.

First stop-Larry. Larry and the dogs. Larry who has been around electronically for years but only recently again personally. I'm glad the recent has happened. Larry is a good man. A great man. With great dogs. We went hiking 'cause that's what I wanted/needed to do. I find talking easier when there is physical activity involved. I find almost any interaction easier when physical activity is involved. Keeps me out of my head. Keeps me honest.

And then I scampered away to my

Second stop-Death and the Props Goddess. Yes, that's right. Death and the Props Goddess. We're going way back...Yale. Dr. Death was renowned because he could take one toke or your pot and tell you what kind it was and WHERE IT WAS GROWN. Yes, he was the Henry Higgins of Pot. To the extent he took my roommates mom's crop and murmured, "Sens. Westchester?"


The Props Goddess did props for the Yale Precision Marching Band. She earned the moniker rightly. If you've never seen them, youtube 'em. Raucous, underhanded, overt musical joy. Death was the announcer (as well as a brilliant organist who serenaded thousands of tripping Yalies with Bach Toccata in D minor at the yearly Halloween Concert at Woolsey Hall). I fondly remember their "Salute to Communism" and the quick cut-to-commercial on national tv.

Anyway...that's who they were. Who they are? AWESOME. I never spend three hours over dinner. I spent three hours over dinner.

Third stop-Harriet. I love her. Have worked with her. Barely know her. But love her. She is funny and smart and thoughtful and thought-filled and kind.

Fourth stop-Kevin. Hiking with Kevin. Kevin makes me laugh and I envy Kevin 'cause Kevin lives his dreams. Hanging with Michael. Who knew I needed to see Michael? Loopy, efficient, generous Michael. Callie. Who knew I needed to be dry-humped by Callie? Don't get excited. Callie is a dog. Debra Jo. I knew I needed to see Debra Jo. Debra Jo always makes time. And she knew I needed an attitude adjustment. Little did she know how much.

Fifth stop-Kieran. Warped Kieran. He drinks TaB. He's a film-maker. He's wicked and wicked smart.

Sixth stop-Sus and her baby sirens. All delicious, gnawable creatures who put things in a new perspective.

Seventh stop-Sistah. We have not seen one another in eight years. We played identical twins. We would like to play twins again. This would take some weight loss on my part. She is married to the delicious Rafe and mother to another awesome siren. She has NOT turned into a soccer mom with a muffy hairband as she feared. I needed to see her. I'm not quite sure why yet but maybe someday...

Eighth stop-Nemo. She has a real name but I like Nemo. When we met 14 years ago, I was in the midst of some naughtiness and kept repeating, "I'm telling no one." Well...Nemo means "no one" so that's how I got away with confessing my sins. We continue to confess and absolve and shriek and cackle over life. She buys me TaB. Her almost teenage siren was there too. If all I created on this earth was this young woman, I would die happy. Nemo is the best. Mother. EVER.

Ninth stop-Eddie. He's new. He's Nemo's. I like him.

Other things I loved-Von's had TaB. The Tangerine Hotel. The Troubador Players' production of A WHITHERS TALE. My CaR and San Diego...and Newport Beach and Encinitas.


Oy. It started with a director saying I was not right for a role I had played to great success before, so I would never be playing her again.*

Within an hour, the job for which I had booked a ticket to L.A. (and then to Tucson) was pulled due to ridiculous legalities that folks have overlooked for twenty some-odd years. Thank you, ridiculous legalities. I now have a residence in L.A. so you can never ridiculous legality me again. Since the ticket was non-refundable, L.A.--here I went.

While hiking with Larry, I learned that George David Weiss had passed. You may not know him by name, but he wrote WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD, THE LION SLEEPS TONIGHT and CAN'T HELP FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU. He also wrote my first princess musical which put me on the map with an Atlantic Records original cast recording and a Warner Home Video. We hadn't spoken in ages and he was quite aged (Don't read this, Nana.) but we had worked together for five months and were good drinking buddies, so it made me melancholy. Workable melancholy but nonetheless...

And then...

Andy died. I'm not going to give you his full, delicious moniker because...well...he never asked to be included in something entitled TIZ AND ASS. But Andy was an ER doctor, a highly-regarded Ivy League professor and researcher. And while riding his Vespa to work he was hit by a truck.

And he died.

When his brother-in-law called to tell me, he wanted to make sure I wasn't behind the wheel. Why compound the issue, eh?

Honestly, Universe, you couldn't have picked on some exec from an investment bank bail-out who took his undeserved "stolen" yearly bonus and went to Cancun?

You had to take Andy?

Andy was a part of my Yale escapades that I hold madly near and dear. An episode of my life I rarely write about because I hold it so strangely sacred. A group of guys who, no matter what I did, made me feel like I was brilliant and cared for and a lady. They are a part of my secret arsenal. And Andy was a kind and loopy and generous and talented and absolutely brilliant bullet.

As I wrote one of my friends, "my most recent fond memory of andy was at the reunion, post-cemetary when we all gathered at the non-working fountain in front of stirling. andy just dropped a beautiful nugget of why we had to cherish the kind of discourse owned only by the sob's because it was precious and existed nowhere else.

i hate this for all of you. the earth does not seem to be spinning on its axis correctly."

I made the sadness workable for a little while. People to see and love, you know.

Now I just hurt. If you feel like being angry with God, I'm your girl. Call me. But I may be asleep since that's what I do when sad. When the going gets tough, Tizzy gets her AsS to bed.**


I ate a lot. I've become a nervous eater. L.A. and its environs sustained me with...

peanut butter
chocolate chip cookie dough
Snicker's bar
Japanese vegan
Spinach salad with a pig's worth of bacon
Bob's Big Boy Bacon Cheeseburger with avocado and fries
chorizo omelet
chips and guac
a GINORMOUS shrimp quesadilla
a GINORMOUS honey bun
bagel with peanut butter and butter
Carvel large chocolate cone
2 12 packs of TaB.

All in three days.


*Okay. You'll find that the tapestry of the show unravels if you change the quality of that character. It's not the book and it's not the movie. Go with God (the one I'm currently rather angry with).

**Actually, not sure I believe in GoD. Working on that. I do believe in the human spirit. And I also believe that my AsS will not remain in bed for long.

1 comment:

  1. So happy for you. So sad for you. So thankful for you.


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