Forty By Forty

Number 27: Go to Trapeze School

    The last (and only time) Lorne Hiltser and I spent the night together was when he took me to Cedar's Sinai a few months ago. I was in so much pain, I actually thought I might die. He was calm and respectful while undressing me and getting me into the undignified backless gown in the hospital's unflattering light, and stayed with me through the night as I screamed in pain.

   As the morphine kicked in, and it became clear I wasn't going to die, I started to feel better and we managed to have some fun. Egged on by a heavily drugged Marika, Lorne attempted to steal medical supplies and was caught by a nurse who quickly locked up the cabinets. We did manage to get out with some rubber gloves and lube in the end. 

    It turns out that Lorne isn't just a swift undresser and a great prom date (Number 7: Go to Prom) but a trapeze artist who recently worked at the LA County Fair, in the Trapeze Booth. And, yes, I believe that puts him in the "carnie" category. On a beautiful Sunday morning, we headed to Hollywood Aerial Arts for a lesson in Flying Trapeze.

   Even though I've bungee jumped and most recently gone skydiving, I'm really afraid of heights. I'm not comfortable being high up, probably because I can't stop my brain from playing out the "falling scenario" over and over and over.

   There were a couple of quick rules and prep exercises and then I got up, eager to go first because I thought I might get more scared watching other people do it before me. I chalked up my hands, trying to look as nonchalantly cool and calm as possible, then climbed up the ladder.

   The higher I climbed, the more tense I got, so I had to remind myself to breathe once I got to the top. I said it to George (who was up there giving me the send-off) every time; "I'm just going to breathe..." and he smiled. Sometimes Lorne was up there giving me the send-off, although I must say it was harder to trust that he wasn't going to drop me. Most likely on account of his shifty mustache.  

Not wanting to let go...

   The scariest part to me was standing up there, once I was in the air I was completely fine. After a couple of "easy" jumps, just falling on my back, I realized the key to being a good trapeze artist is to listen and follow the instructions. It sounds simple, but of course it isn't. Because everything you do up there is counter intuitive to what your brain wants you to do. Basically, you're having an argument with your brain about what to do next, instead of just hop when Ray yells "hop," and let go when he yells "let go." Letting go is not easy at all, in trapezing or in life.    

In the midst of a perfect back flip

    I decided to give the whole "following the instructions" a shot after a couple of runs of doing my own thing and being only moderately successful. What happens when you listen to Ray, do exactly what he says, when he says to do it, is quite extraordinary. I listened to the cue, hopped, got my legs up, let my arms hang, brought my arms back, swung my legs back and forth, before landing in a back flip. Everything was fluid and easy. My body went where it was supposed to go, while my mind was still. I felt at peace and totally free at the same time. Imagine that. 

Nick, waiting to catch a flying Swede

   I couldn't wait to do it again. So, next up, I did the same thing agin but when I hung upside down, I stretched my arms out and Nick magically caught me. Which was even more AWESOME! I felt like I was in the circus, only without the glitter costume. Nick did wear sparkly suspenders, so it was easy to close my eyes and imagine the brightly colored tent, the smell of elephant poop, little people roaming around in funny costumes, and then...the spot light comes on, and I'm flying though the air in a red sequined number, to loud cheers and wild applause. 

   I could have stayed all day. Really. Flying trapeze is cool and a total adrenaline kick. My hands got a bit sore and callused but I didn't mind because I was deliriously happy and cannot wait to go back. 

   Thank you Lorne for sharing one of your passions with me, and thanks to Ray, Nick and George for keeping me safe. And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in Forty By Forty history, the video! 

 

 

 

 

Number 26: Find a Piece of Art that Inspires Me and Buy It

   Only slightly out of my price range...   

    I appreciate art, but it's an area that I'm only peripherally familiar with and invested in. Beyond the art history class I took in college, I haven't been educated in the visual arts, so I don't have any fancy words to describe brush strokes or the ability to recognize artists beyond the universally known Picasso, Monet, Klimt, Dali and Chagall, etc.

    Don't get me wrong, the first thing I do when visiting a new city is to go to the local museum because to me, one way of getting to know a place is to see what's been created there artistically. I always enjoy it, and usually find that the pieces that speak to me aren't the most valuable or most controversial, but instead, the ones other people pass by quickly. Unknown artists, a weird photograph or a strangely shaped sculpture. 

    So, this was a task where I thought, if I come across something that inspires me and that isn't a million dollars, I'd like to get it. To own a piece of art. Could be cool. Then I put it out of my mind. 

Artist Matthew Heller

   Until my friend Cyndi Finkle blogged about Matthew Heller, an artist friend of hers. On her blog she had a link to his web site and I clicked. Matthew's works are all interesting and beautiful in different ways, but it was when I clicked on Poems that I got that feeling. 

   Words are beautiful, and to me, words are a form of art. With the risk of sounding pompous, there are times that I write something that feels like art. So it wasn't too strange that the piece of art that inspired me had words. Beautifully put together words.

   I clicked through the poems and after looking at a few of them, "Your Heart is the Sun" came up and I just connected with it. It evokes love and passion, and, funnily enough, someone once told me that my heart is like the sun. Big and warm and open. And with the risk of sounding pompous yet again, my open heart is something I actually enjoy about myself, even though the online chakra test I recently took said that my heart chakra is too open and over active. Whatever. 

    Over active heart or not, I love feeling things intensely, joy as well as heart ache because it makes me feel alive. This year has brought both, although more highest of highs than lowest of lows. Many of the challenges and tasks I've taken on for Forty By Forty has made my heart so full that at times I've thought it's about to burst out of my chest. And when things have been difficult or "achy," I've just found myself writing a lot. Or pouring my feelings into my guitar playing. 

   But enough about me. It turned out that although some of the poems were available as prints, "mine" wasn't.  I emailed Matthew and told him if he ever decided to make a print of it, I'd be interested. He said to check in with him in a few months. 

   So, I moved onto other things and forgot about it, but now that I'm getting close to the finish line, I've decided to map the rest of my journey out to make sure I hit my target.  So I revisited the list and there it was. Find a piece of art that inspires me and buy it. I checked in with Matthew again before making it "inactive" and he responded right away saying he'd have a print made. 

Matthew and I with my print rolled up 

  About ten days later, I got an email saying the print was ready and headed over to Matthew's studio to pick it up. On the wall was a piece of art that gave me goose bumps; the words to the song "When Johnny Comes Home" in a Western type font, written in thirteen lines to symbolize the thirteen stripes in our flag. (Wow. I just said "our" flag for the first time, acknowledging my somewhat recent naturalization. Am I becoming one of those patriotic Americans?) 

   We talked for a bit and I discovered that Matthew is not just interesting and passionate about art, his and others', but he's an artist who wants his art to find a good home...and that makes him cool. In an effort to convince him my home would be a good home for his art, I told him that "Your Heart is the Sun" would become part of the Forty By Forty project. It went over well. In other words, he let me have it. 

   Next, we discussed framing and Matthew suggested something subtle so it becomes about the piece and not the frame. I agreed completely and headed to Chinatown to one of his favorite framers and dropped it off. I must say, having just picked it up, I wanted it to come home with me right away. Didn't want to leave it. Although, on account of my height,  I'm used to not having things available to me immediately... all clothing items have to be dropped off and shortened before wearing. So it was alright. 

       A week later, I walked into the framing place and there it was. So beautiful and perfectly framed. And too big to fit in my car so it took some wrangling to get it home. I had decided to wait and see where it would fit in when I got it home, so I spent some time moving it here and there. It's an intimate piece so I thought perhaps in the bedroom, but it wasn't right so it ended up in my living room where I'll probably end up enjoying it more. 

   So, here it is. In my apartment. I feel sophisticated and accomplished. As of today, I am an art collector. Thanks to Cyndi for helping me find Matthew, and thanks to Matthew for making a beautiful piece of art that inspires me. I love it. 

Number 25: Learn to Play the Guitar. Again.

     I've always wanted to play an instrument and a few years ago, my friend Ronny and I took some guitar lessons, but I couldn't get into it. My main struggle was that the guitar was too big for me to hold comfortably, and the neck was too wide, so my fingers couldn't get to the chords. I was told to get a junior guitar but I thought that would look silly, so I quit instead. Really mature.  About as mature as blaming my parents for my instrumental shortcomings.

    So I put this on the Forty By Forty list, hoping against all hope and predictability that something would happen that would inspire or force me to tackle this, because I imagined that the result would be gratifying and somehow complete my life. I know, that's a lot to ask from guitar lessons, but when you love music as much as I do, being able to play an instrument could very well have that impact.

Mr. James Webber, smiling on the outside, but plotting my guitar demise on the inside

    The "inspiration" I was looking for came when my friend (and now fellow musician) James jokingly told me to cross it off the list, because with only three months left before my birthday, he thought there might be easier tasks to complete. As friends and blog followers know, the easiest way to get me to do something, is to tell me it might not be the best idea. So that's when I decided I would actually take it on. I asked him what song would demonstrate to him that I could play the guitar and he laughed and said, "any song you learn will demonstrate that you can play that song." More fuel for me to succeed. 

Singer, song-writer, guitarist Sully Clare 

  I checked in with Cyndi because both her sweet husband Temple and her sweet daughter Sully plays guitar, so I thought that would be a good place to start as far as finding a good teacher. I was referred to Michelle Payne who is not just a great guitar teacher but a fellow Yogi. Her blog 38 Ways to Change the World Through Music is a must read. 

    Our first lesson took place at the Guitar Center and when I met Michelle, I knew right away we'd be friends. And it felt like she would actually be able to teach me how to play the guitar. She's soulful, fun and a huge Beatles fan. More into John than "my" Paul but that's alright. More of Paul's cheeks for me.

    I thought it would be hard and that I would get frustrated and feel incompetent. I didn't. Because Michelle teaches in a way that allowed me to play songs right away. At our first lesson, I played the blues. Then she asked me to think about some songs I wanted to learn and I listened through the whole Beatles catalogue before settling on "Love Me Do." The first time I played it all the way through I cried.

    I know, these blogs are getting more and more sentimental, but I love music so much. And then, after 40 years of appreciating music just by listening and singing along, someone like Michelle comes along and gives me the ability to express that love in a new way...through my hands...I don't know how else to explain it. It's so magical. 

    I must have played "Love Me Do" hundreds of times now. And I've moved up from the easy chords to the trickier, fancier, more advanced chords. I still tear up every time.

    The other thing I'm trying to work out with this new passion, is where my boobs go. My right one specifically. This is the unspoken part of  learning to play the guitar I've discovered. No one talks about it, but the question remains; do you squish it up against guitar, or "lay it" on top? I've tried both and I'm not resolved one way or the other as of yet, so stay tuned.

    Perhaps I should wait to check this one off until I'm an expert guitar player with a substantive repertoir. Perhaps I should wait until I can play "Freebird," because it's what hoards of drunk people yell out at concerts regardless of the act. Or at the very least until Michelle and I perform our Beatles medley at my birthday celebration, where people can applaud my newfound talent.

Playing (and squishing)

    But the task wasn't to master the guitar, or to be a full fledged rock star, but to learn to play the guitar and that, I am. I am learning. I am struggling, I am strumming, I am sliding, I am picking, and I am getting irritated that I have to keep my nails super short and that my fingertips are getting callused. I am also having the time of my life, and not just because after the guitar lessons, Michelle and I play Beatles Rockband, where I get to be the star and she struggles. But because music has the ability to make everything beautiful and meaningful.

                                 

Things I'm not losing in the fire

       So, in conclusion, I'm not a rock star as of yet. I get frustrated with my guitar from time to time. But that's more about me than my guitar. Because I get frustrated about anything and everything I can't do perfectly right away. The cool thing is that there's now one more thing I'd grab in case my house is set on fire, aside from my new iPad. And that is my beautiful Taylor GS Mini. That's right, I got the smaller one. And it doesn't look silly at all. Neither does my Beatles guitar strap or my Beatles guitar picks. Did I perhaps overdo it? Me think not.

Michelle channeling John Lennon for Beatles Rockband

    Thank you James for providing the push I desperately needed to take this on, and for being supportive the minute I decided to actually do it. Thank you Michelle for giving me immeasurable joy and boundless happiness. Because that's how I feel when we sing and play together and even when I practice alone. And yes, learning to play the guitar has completed my life. No big deal.

Number 24: James Bond Marathon

   My friend Dory suggested this and it sounded ludicrous at first. It was either the Bond marathon or eat 24 Big Macs in 24 hours, or something I really don't want to repeat. I discarded the idea quickly but the more I thought about it, the more I realized what a Bond fan I am, and how great it would be to revisit all the films...in a row...staying up late...having good snacks and beverages...with friends coming over for a Bond film or two...genius, really. So kudos to Dory and his creative mind. 

 

 Dory played himself in Finding Nemo

   Dory has been living in China for as long as I've known him, so I haven't seen him much, but when I do it's always a good time as he has an uncanny ability to get under my skin. He's quickly gotten to know me AND learned what buttons to push. Kudos again, I suppose. He's also a good friend to have if you like really cool, modern, architectural-type shoes as he works for United Nude. 

   I thought of inviting my brother Ulrik since he introduced me to Bond films and told me which James Bond I had to prefer (Sean Connery,) but since he is in Sweden, he couldn't make it. And by the way, Ulrik will from now on be referred to as "he who must not be named" since he's having some sort of issue being mentioned in the blog. I guess it's not exactly increasing his coolness factor. 

   So I went about setting up the marathon. I was trying to work out how to get all the Bond movies, since you can't rent that many movies at Blockbuster, but it turns out I have two friends who love Bond enough to own the entire collection, Brian Studler of Number: 7 Go to Prom & Robert Scott Wildes, a talented director friend from the AFI, whose latest short film, Thule, is bound to be well-received at film festivals this season. And not just because it features a voice-over by yours truly. Yep, nothing makes you feel like you're pushing forty more than being cast as Mrs. Roberts, a woman with a son in the air force.  

   The game plan itself was easy. Friday night until Sunday night with short sleep breaks. Food and snacks and a somewhat cohesive schedule. I made Swedish meatballs, mashed potatoes, my famous pumpkin pecan muffins, almond torte and had both healthy snacks and candy.

Dory without hair and make up

    Dory, who just moved to New York but still didn't fly in for the marathon (lame,) checked in the day before with the following encouraging email; "Kind of weak that you are taking sleep breaks and not going full-on till the break of dawn..." I would expect nothing less. 

    First up; Dinner with Sean Connery and "Dr. No," followed by "From Russia with Love," "Goldfinger" and "Thunderball. " Goldfinger of course features a classic dialogue exchange; "Do you expect me to talk?" says Bond. "No I expect you to die, Mr. Bond," replies Auric Goldfinger. Because there were only girls Friday night, the conversation tended to center around Sean Connery's back hair and the decorating in the villains' lairs, as opposed to car chases and killings. We also came up with the idea of doing a medley of all James Bond songs complete with Liza Minelli voices and jazz hands, but got stuck after a few. 

    We noticed the costume department's tendency to put Sean Connery in mini-shorts and then there was the homo-erotic scene in "Thunderball," when he gets stuck in the spine stretcher machine and is jerked back and forth quite violently. After four films it was time for a a bed time break, although some of us fell asleep on the couch, (Karen Forman) while others stayed alert until the bitter end (Elena and I.) 

   Saturday morning...hard to get out of bed but "You Only Live Twice" was waiting for me, and it's a pretty good movie. Ernst Stavro Blofeld is back for the third time, as is his furry white friend and his unhealthy obsession with gold bullion. Bond, in an attempt to pass as a Japanese man, has his chest shaved and puts on a caesar type wig...and voila...looks nothing like a Japanese man. Best line of the movie; "For a European, you are exceptionally well cultivated."

   Waffles with Zoe and Mr. George Lazenby for "On Her Majesty's Secret Service." This was a film I hadn't seen, and to my surprise I actually liked it. It's weird, quirky and un-Bond like and has the first and last romantic montage in the Bond series; James and Contessa Teresa di Vincenzo horseback riding, kissing at the beach, lunching, laughing. Strange. 

    Then they get married. Which of course doesn't last long, as she is killed a few minutes later, making it one of two Bond films that made me cry. And George Lazenby is no slouch as James Bond. Fit and handsome with a softer side. Not bad at all. This film also had one of the best lines of the whole series; "What she needs is a man to dominate her," says the Contessa's father to Bond in an attempt to get them together. 

    Happy to be back with Sean Connery for "Diamonds are Forever" which is cool because it takes place in Vegas.  Then FINALLY...

    "Live and Let Die." Happiness for many reasons; the arrival of Roger Moore who was always my favorite back in the day, the title song is sung by my favorite Beatle and his Wings, and if that wasn't enough, the opening scene with the funeral in New Orleans is awesome. Then there's voodoo and tarot with Solitaire, played by Jane Seymour. As much as I've come to appreciate Sean Connery's portrayal of James Bond, Roger Moore's delightfully fun, charming and British portrayal was warmly welcomed after a lot of ass-slapping and brute arrogance by Sean Connery. 

    I thought I would tire of watching these films fairly quickly but next was "The Man with the Golden Gun" which has my favorite villain, Fernando Scaramanga, and his little friend Nick Nack. Also, not one, but two Swedish Bond girls, Britt Ekland and Maud Adams. Followed by "The Spy who Loved Me," "Moonraker," "For Your Eyes Only," "Octopussy," featuring Maud Adams again, and finally "A View to a Kill" before I passed out. 

    Not a big fan of Timothy Dalton but I did wake up early and watched "The Living Daylights" with the Norwegian group A-ha singing the title song. Worst Bond song ever. And waffles with Ronny for "License to Kill" which featured a skinny, young Benicio Del Toro as a henchman. And that's all I can say about that. Not very exciting at all.

    Happy to see Mr. Pierce Brosnan, but it seemed the quality of the ladies went down a bit, as did the qualities of the films in general. There wasn't a single blonde Bond girl in any of the Pierce Brosnan films, all brunettes and many of them extremely intelligent (boring.) With the lesser quality also came lesser cup sizes...the only thing added was a lot of fabric...boy, were these girls covered up compared to the earlier films. And their names just weren't as fun, with the exception of Christmas Jones, of course. 

      

                                        Honey Ryder, Mary Goodnight and Pussy Galore...

    I get it, in the nineties everything got politically correct and I suppose that spread to the James Bond films. So, no more Plenty O'Toole or Holly Goodhead. No more women showing up in Bond's hotel room wearing see through negliges, or just waiting for him naked in his bed. Which is unfortunate because James Bond is supposed to be a womanizing, chauvinistic bad ass where women fight over him and coo, "Oh, James, " ready to give up their family, livelihood and their own lives after just a kiss.

    But not in the Pierce Brosnan movies. "GoldenEye" features perhaps the drabbest Bond girl of all time, and I'm embarrassed to say she is Swedish...Izabella Scorupco is usually hot but they've managed to remove all that in this film. Thank god for Famke Janssen's Xenia Onatopp, who gets off by getting the crap kicked out of her, making it a way more interesting movie.  

    Then "Tomorrow Never Dies," The World is Not Enough," and "Die Another Day." Not exactly fantastic plots, so they all tended to bleed together with a few great racks in sight; Teri Hatcher, Denise Richards and Halle Berry.

   "Casino Royale" and "Quantum of Solace" rounded out the marathon. And what a sweet way to end. With Daniel Craig. When I originally saw "Quantum of Solace" I was really disappointed, but Studler, who dropped by Sunday, made a good point. If you watch them as a pair, it makes for one long, great movie. And that it was. "Casino Royale" has a fantastically evil and hot Danish actor as its villain, and yes, when Vesper died, I cried for the second time. 

   Off to bed FINALLY...shaken and stirred... I dreamt about Jaws, Oddjob, Nick Nack, Felix Leiter, Aston Martins, my Z3, Q and his gadgets, hot blondes and a tuxedo clad Daniel Craig getting into the shower with me and sucking my fingers. Not a bad way to end this adventure. 

    Thank you, Dory for the suggestion. It was great/interesting/exhausting. Thanks to my friends who stopped by for one or two or three movies; Sarah, Karen, Elena, Zoe, Keri, Ron, Studler, Kevin and Wei-ning. 

    

Number 23: Do Stand-up Comedy

   Funny things happen to me fairly often, and I can be quick and snappy when challenged to a banter-off with a cute boy. I'm also pretty decent at sketch comedy... But to take that and put it into some sort of structured act is harder than it seems. So, this was one of those "I can make a total ass out of myself here" challenges. And those challenges are the most interesting ones, I've found. The ones where I have to expand who I know myself to be, and as a result, end up learning the most about myself. 

 Charlotte and Francine, two retired whores

   My friend Karen Forman, my side-kick in the popular "Two retired whores applying for a business loan at Wells Fargo" sketch graciously invited me to do my act at The Jive Joint, which is a crazy mix of creative performances by some strangely talented people, hosted by Karen's Street Theatre Troupe Suddenly Dapper. The Jive Joint has a new home, in a huge and cool loft space downtown, in a bit of a dubious area. I say dubious because my iPhone told me to "Use Caution" when I got walking directions from where I had parked.

   As preparation for this challenge, I tried telling some jokes around town, but I quickly discovered I'm terrible at that. It's not that I can't remember the punch line, it's that when I get to it, I start to laugh because it's so funny. And so there I am, laughing really hard, tears streaming down my face...and I just can't get it out. Of course, when I finally get the punch line out, it's not funny at all, because at this point, the person I'm telling the joke to has watched me almost pee my pants for minutes, which insinuates that it's the funniest joke in the world. 

   Next, I went into my "funny" diary. I started it when I was in India with Radha. Every once in a while I would say something that would make Radha laugh uncontrollably, or we'd have a weirdly funny dialogue and she would insist on my writing it down. God bless her for making me do that because I've kept doing it with her and other friends, and I've already used funny lines in scripts I've written. Here's one of my favorites, from a recent chat:

"He’s fat and he’s got hair everywhere. But I kind of like that."

"Really?"

"Yeah…I’ve always had this fantasy of being fucked by Harvey Weinstein."

"Please don’t do that while I’m eating."

"What?"

"Talk about fucking Harvey Weinstein."

"Ok, fine. Tell me about your new love interest."

"He's nice but I think he’s too pretty."

"For what?"

"It makes me feel fat and ugly when I’m with someone really pretty."

"I was with someone  fat and ugly and I still felt fat and ugly."

"Was it Harvey Weinstein?"

   Unfortunately, a lot of it is dialogue, but I found one story I could use. Someone had said humiliation is funny so I opted to tell the ultimate humiliation story. I went up after some improv, ukulele playing, hoola hooping and juggling, and grabbed the microphone.

   The story I told was about when I decided to tell a boy I liked him. "Joe Smith" had been "secretly" in love with me for years, so it was one of those safe bets. Or so I thought. I called him up and then it turned bad. I guess since I last checked, he had met someone new and now liked them instead. As I'm listening to him letting me down easy, I decide to text my friend Francesca about the whole thing. A bit of a crude text. A few seconds later, he asks "did you just text me?" Then he proceeded to read the text meant for Francesca, back to me on the phone. The one about him liking some whore now...and me feeling like a loser and wanting to die. 

       

   It turns out people do think humiliation is funny because there were a lot of laughs. I had a couple of other bits I had worked on that also demonstrate my awkwardness in the area of romance and that were equally humiliating, but decided to go straight for my final bit and quit while I was ahead. I had to pause after my initial; "so, I was having anal with my boyfriend the other day," because people were laughing quite loudly. I go on to explain that it's really not a bit...I really just wanted people to know that A. I have a boyfriend, and B. I do anal. And then I get into the nuts and bolts of anal sex, which I won't repeat here. 

   It wasn't fun at all before I went up, in fact, I wanted to throw up, go home and forget about the whole thing. I had only invited a few friends because I honestly didn't know how it would go. Once I was up there talking, it was actually fun and I was happy and relaxed. I don't think it's something I'll do again, but all in all, a solid uncomfortable experience. I suppose what I learned was that I can be funny in a stand-up way after all. But I must say I prefer other ways, simply because the whole anxiety thing beforehand is a pain in the ass. Pun intended. 

   Thanks to Guy for inspiring the second bit, to Radha, Cliff and Karen for letting me rehearse with them, to my sweet friends who showed up and laughed; Cliff (Number 13: Skydive,) John (Number 15: Run a 5K & 19: Pea Soup Andersen's,) James (Number 3: Read 5 Foreign Books,) Zoe (Number 7: Go to Prom) and Andrea (Number 11: Take a Hip Hop Class.) 

   Most of all, thanks to Karen Forman and her lovely and talented crew for letting me soil their Thursday night gig ever so slightly, with a bit of anal.