Wednesday, January 27, 2016
Monday, January 25, 2016
Purple Rain......
There was that one summer, in Cambridge Mass.
Me, my brother and the Geidt Sisters!
I think we saw Purple Rain 100 times.
Sophie and Jennifer were the only kids, pretty much,
local and apart of American Repertory Theatre.
Mr. Jeremy Geidt and his wife, took Dad under their wing, when
Dad first arrived on the A.R.T. scene.
It was the second summer we had to share Dad with his
girlfriend Bonnie , she was cool, perhaps abit too
young ! but they had a new addition, this summer,
their wolfhound, Puppy, Thisbe.
Funny how A MidSummer Night;s Dream~
"Thisbe & Pyramus" story is all about
forbidden love......
Dad was friends with the superintendent ~
and landed an empty apartment , just beneath Dad's apt.
for me & chris , for a week.
So sleep over;s became a mutual sharing.
We had acouple sleep overs at the Geidt's; I'll never forget!
It was the first time I experienced someone sleep with their eyes open.
I had awoken that morning. Everything was quiet. The Geidt's home was safe.
Beautiful antique charm, old low ceiling style, felt little & quaint but somehow went on forever.
They had a bunkbed!!! Always wanted a bunkbed!!! 'Jennifer slept on the bottom bunk,
and when I rolled over and saw that she was awake too,
I said, "GoodMorning!", loud enough for the birds to fly from the tree.
Thus the silence` held` in her lack of a response,
~ like a thick blanket of snow quells the
vibration of noise..... quiet fell over the room
but the blue eyes that were open wide , but asleep, held me in terror.
Thank god it was the morning!
Because suddenly , I just wanted to be back on the mattress, under covers,
upon the floor at my dad's small apartment.
Well, there;s a first for everything. I was dabbling alot that summer, with alcohol and
smoking.
The tender age of 16. Headed into my junior year. Thought I was all grown up,
especially when one of my father's actor friends began flirting with me. I'll leave his name out
of it.... but in my case , as young as I can remember I always had a crush on one of my father;s
peers :No matter what production, there was always one per production. It never occurred to me
that age mattered?!! HUH?!!!
As did my brother!!
Chris had the talent of seemingly scoping out the "girlfriend" material. (right before Dad would introduce her to us) I would look at chris~ Like WHAT!!! that's the one YOU chose!!
Well being that Dad got us that little apartment ~ Us and the Geidt Sisters certainly
christened the bathroom. A bottle of Vodka and a few beers, throw in the cigarettes.
Always wondered if it was the smokes that made us vomit.
Well, the night began on a high , my Dads friend gave me his number and we
were going to set up a rendez-vous.
AS IF>>>> hot headed teeny bopper. The phone call left me numb.
He had a talk with his friend and she told him that it was inappropriate to meet with me!
So he squashed the whole idea in under a 2 minute phone call.
And here I was riding on adrenalin all day long. Set up and Let Down. What was I thinking?
It set the course for the night, however, it was Jennifer whom had the melt down.
We held her hair back , as she unloaded her entire dinner plus, all of her
emotional insecurities of self and family.
It felt too heavy. I was scared for Jenn. I was feeling rejected too.
But somehow, helping Jenn became my drunken purpose. I just wanted her to stop throwing up
because I could handle the crying. I was crying thru her.
Where had all the fun gone that we all planned out together?!!!
How cool was it to be all grown up with your own place?! Not so much.
If anyone should be having a breakdown I would think it would have been ~
Sophie, Jenn;s little sister,
whom had survived a terrible airplane crash years prior.
Dad told me , A doctor had ran back & pulled her from the plane just before it exploded.
It was the first Year my Dad was up at The A.R.T., I remember meeting
Sophie and Jennifer.
Sophie was the little soccer star, boy chick, fun, free & friendly. I could
so identify with the tomboy in this girl.
Jennifer was the pretty chubby girl with awesome dimples &
the most beautiful natural long ringlet curls,
the hair I always wanted.
Both of their eyes were caribbean sea blue. Beautiful and charming children
of Actors.
I remember Dad sharing this intense story with us.
After that event, Sophie was different. Like shell shocked. Of course!!
It took her awhile to come around.
We didn;t live there... so it took a minute to warm things up and pick up
where we left off the summer before.
Thus, Here we all were trying to soothe her sister out of some drunken sadness.
We all got very close that summer. Teenage life, it's hard sometimes. Where would we
have been without one another?
OUR THERAPY:
We were addicted to PURPLE RAIN !
We listened to Prince's album that entire summer.
The movie was profound. The message was ~ don;t repeat the mistakes of your father.
Or so it seemed. I wanted to try acting and Dad made me promise to NEVER do it.
I never thought my father;s acting was a mistake~ There were
times when I think he thought it was for him. But he was a natural.
I couldn;t begin to imagine the rejection an actor must feel when the phone never
rings or the parts are handed over to the "look alike".
One must bare a hide of buffalo or a turtle shell?!!¿!!!
Purple Rain was a story of rejection on several levels.
The sound Track was Awesome. It was therapeutic.
It had turbulence and conflict, sex , & rage, love & forgiveness. The story of a dysfunctional family , WOW! We weren't alone! The story of Prince's
relationship or lack there of, with his father was the undercurrent of this film.
Perhaps I was addicted to this movie because it only
confirmed that I actually did have a relationship with my Dad.
He was caring and loving , distant at times & disciplined.
He was all the things I ever needed.
My dad was the music too. Always putting me an Chris inside his music.
Wether it was Mozart , Vivaldi , or the Doobie Brothers or Pink Floyd.
I love you Dad 4ever.
Me, my brother and the Geidt Sisters!
I think we saw Purple Rain 100 times.
Sophie and Jennifer were the only kids, pretty much,
local and apart of American Repertory Theatre.
Mr. Jeremy Geidt and his wife, took Dad under their wing, when
Dad first arrived on the A.R.T. scene.
It was the second summer we had to share Dad with his
girlfriend Bonnie , she was cool, perhaps abit too
young ! but they had a new addition, this summer,
their wolfhound, Puppy, Thisbe.
Funny how A MidSummer Night;s Dream~
"Thisbe & Pyramus" story is all about
forbidden love......
Dad was friends with the superintendent ~
and landed an empty apartment , just beneath Dad's apt.
for me & chris , for a week.
So sleep over;s became a mutual sharing.
We had acouple sleep overs at the Geidt's; I'll never forget!
It was the first time I experienced someone sleep with their eyes open.
I had awoken that morning. Everything was quiet. The Geidt's home was safe.
Beautiful antique charm, old low ceiling style, felt little & quaint but somehow went on forever.
They had a bunkbed!!! Always wanted a bunkbed!!! 'Jennifer slept on the bottom bunk,
and when I rolled over and saw that she was awake too,
I said, "GoodMorning!", loud enough for the birds to fly from the tree.
Thus the silence` held` in her lack of a response,
~ like a thick blanket of snow quells the
vibration of noise..... quiet fell over the room
but the blue eyes that were open wide , but asleep, held me in terror.
Thank god it was the morning!
Because suddenly , I just wanted to be back on the mattress, under covers,
upon the floor at my dad's small apartment.
Well, there;s a first for everything. I was dabbling alot that summer, with alcohol and
smoking.
The tender age of 16. Headed into my junior year. Thought I was all grown up,
especially when one of my father's actor friends began flirting with me. I'll leave his name out
of it.... but in my case , as young as I can remember I always had a crush on one of my father;s
peers :No matter what production, there was always one per production. It never occurred to me
that age mattered?!! HUH?!!!
As did my brother!!
Chris had the talent of seemingly scoping out the "girlfriend" material. (right before Dad would introduce her to us) I would look at chris~ Like WHAT!!! that's the one YOU chose!!
Well being that Dad got us that little apartment ~ Us and the Geidt Sisters certainly
christened the bathroom. A bottle of Vodka and a few beers, throw in the cigarettes.
Always wondered if it was the smokes that made us vomit.
Well, the night began on a high , my Dads friend gave me his number and we
were going to set up a rendez-vous.
AS IF>>>> hot headed teeny bopper. The phone call left me numb.
He had a talk with his friend and she told him that it was inappropriate to meet with me!
So he squashed the whole idea in under a 2 minute phone call.
And here I was riding on adrenalin all day long. Set up and Let Down. What was I thinking?
It set the course for the night, however, it was Jennifer whom had the melt down.
We held her hair back , as she unloaded her entire dinner plus, all of her
emotional insecurities of self and family.
It felt too heavy. I was scared for Jenn. I was feeling rejected too.
But somehow, helping Jenn became my drunken purpose. I just wanted her to stop throwing up
because I could handle the crying. I was crying thru her.
Where had all the fun gone that we all planned out together?!!!
How cool was it to be all grown up with your own place?! Not so much.
If anyone should be having a breakdown I would think it would have been ~
Sophie, Jenn;s little sister,
whom had survived a terrible airplane crash years prior.
Dad told me , A doctor had ran back & pulled her from the plane just before it exploded.
It was the first Year my Dad was up at The A.R.T., I remember meeting
Sophie and Jennifer.
Sophie was the little soccer star, boy chick, fun, free & friendly. I could
so identify with the tomboy in this girl.
Jennifer was the pretty chubby girl with awesome dimples &
the most beautiful natural long ringlet curls,
the hair I always wanted.
Both of their eyes were caribbean sea blue. Beautiful and charming children
of Actors.
I remember Dad sharing this intense story with us.
After that event, Sophie was different. Like shell shocked. Of course!!
It took her awhile to come around.
We didn;t live there... so it took a minute to warm things up and pick up
where we left off the summer before.
Thus, Here we all were trying to soothe her sister out of some drunken sadness.
We all got very close that summer. Teenage life, it's hard sometimes. Where would we
have been without one another?
OUR THERAPY:
We were addicted to PURPLE RAIN !
We listened to Prince's album that entire summer.
The movie was profound. The message was ~ don;t repeat the mistakes of your father.
Or so it seemed. I wanted to try acting and Dad made me promise to NEVER do it.
I never thought my father;s acting was a mistake~ There were
times when I think he thought it was for him. But he was a natural.
I couldn;t begin to imagine the rejection an actor must feel when the phone never
rings or the parts are handed over to the "look alike".
One must bare a hide of buffalo or a turtle shell?!!¿!!!
Purple Rain was a story of rejection on several levels.
The sound Track was Awesome. It was therapeutic.
It had turbulence and conflict, sex , & rage, love & forgiveness. The story of a dysfunctional family , WOW! We weren't alone! The story of Prince's
relationship or lack there of, with his father was the undercurrent of this film.
Perhaps I was addicted to this movie because it only
confirmed that I actually did have a relationship with my Dad.
He was caring and loving , distant at times & disciplined.
He was all the things I ever needed.
My dad was the music too. Always putting me an Chris inside his music.
Wether it was Mozart , Vivaldi , or the Doobie Brothers or Pink Floyd.
I love you Dad 4ever.
Friday, January 22, 2016
My Dads Chair was sitting in my room when I came home. Reupholstered!!
And found beneath the seat cushion was Grandma Rich's Needlepoint that was on a
hard board.... Nice Job Peggy K!!
I got to hug Dad lastnight in my dream. Second dream I;ve had since Nov.22.
Best birthday gift I could ever Imagine~ I feel like Cricket and the Genie!
Friday, January 15, 2016
Alan Rickman! Wow.... 69!
The yin an yang of life.
I googled him & this picture with the quote came up.
Struck a cord within me as did this man;s acting.
Funny how some actors can creep into every nook like melted butter upon a warm English Muffin!
Alan's role in Harry Potter always caught my eye ~ wondered if it was
because he looked so much like Trent Reznor with his dark long hair or
that Alan played such a delicious Evil Guy.
He not only looked the part~
He was evil.
And isn;t that the key to a great actor!!?
The ability to listen up to another;s perspective an morph into that role.
The ultimate of open mindedness! There must be no inhibitions.
Freely giving way to the process of melting.
Disintegrating, evaporating into a whole new element.
A great actor becomes an exact replica of the very nook and cranny of that characters' soul.
True abandonment of self!?
Is that how memory is held?
The memories of youth , past, present, future..
What serves as the mortar that sets forth the fossils of the mind?
After all aren;t we all a bunch of stories!
Everyone's got a story.
Some choose to remember , some choose to forget,
some can;t help but forget thru the immense pain....
has served as an enormous eraser.
Biochemicals of fear & pain inhibit or prohibit
the unfolding of vivid stories?
The creative mind colors in the black and white lines
of memory as does an actor to his character
depicting a story,
Told by the story teller.
I love to tell stories!
Mine and those of others...
not in my need to be a know it all
~ just in the need to share a good story!
Perhaps it was the dramas & the chaos that branded my heart & my mind with the pictures of my childhood so deeply.
Being that I was raised with the disciplines of ballet and somehow
grand fears of authority; could this have set forth breeding grounds
of capsulized memory ability.
What is the formula, the combination that allows,
for some reason, certain brains to have terabyte capacity!?
My memories are so strong and when I share my stories ~ I find there are several sorts of listeners.
Ones that open up to listen , thus receive wholeheartedly.
And those that shutter ; their earballs start to bleed as soon
as the story horse leaves it's gate~
the question marks fill their eyes & block their ears.
I can feel the energy of revelation or rejection.
It's interesting to me.
I'm a reverent listener even if the person sharing activates an inner rejection
or is ,let's say, beyond my visual capacity ...
I set my"egoself" up on the shelf.....
allowing my ear to brain acquiesce .
I;m looking for the experience....
the story fills my heart chambers and suddenly I am where they are.
A sort of time travel thru another.
~as it is all a matter of perspective~
did some shutter in utter rejection whilst others
listened to every word with sincere reverence.
Were these the ancestors that were selfless and uninhibited .
To freely receive the colors and hues of another's perspective
without fragility? Thus to pass along these very stories
of where "we" came from and who "we" are?!!
Did the ego slip in along the line, where complete selflessness
became bombarded
by selfish ego
blocking the ear from absorbing tales of history.
Ego became the doubter, the non believer
& ultimately the judge.
The editor of our ancestral birthrights.
The power of the Great I AM.
What happened to the tradition of the circular story time
within families?
Perhaps it was in time with the splintering of families.
Inside of an actor , the unification of mind & body
delivers the magic .
The source of great deliverance
is in the art of listening.
The actor is the master in
the court of stories.
As Alan said it is a Human Need to be told stories.
The Peter Pan in me is always looking for a good Wendy.
And without the good "Wendy's" our children's futures
become absent of divine myth.
I am a Wendy. I am a story teller.
As was Alan a story teller thru his many roles he
served acting them.
Thank you Alan for this nutritional morsel .
And thank you for dedicating your life to your art.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
i miss you daddy
I remember walking down the street with you.
Tall as a giraffe you were!
And on those particular days you would
smack the top of the parking signs with your hand~
as if your head had smashed into it
and the people walking down the street
would be absolutely stunned that
you had just walked into the sign.
Because you would hold your brow,
acting painfully embarrassed.
It was a sort of an illusion he played upon,
because no one would actually SEE Dad
walk into it, and
actually he wasn;t techincally tall enough ...but he was tall~
so they would connect the sound, with his reaction,,,
& just assume he was tall enough that he actually
walked into the parking sign. People are quite gullible .
All I know is I was as stunned as they were, only I knew
my dad and he had done this trick many times.
Boy would I laugh , laugh, laugh.
Always the joker , the magician, the optical illusionist...
the mindtician ... i made that word up! you like it,
it means:
the master of trickery upon the minds of others!
That was My Dad...our dad. Johnny Bottoms.
I remember walking down the street with you.
Tall as a giraffe you were!
And on those particular days you would
smack the top of the parking signs with your hand~
as if your head had smashed into it
and the people walking down the street
would be absolutely stunned that
you had just walked into the sign.
Because you would hold your brow,
acting painfully embarrassed.
It was a sort of an illusion he played upon,
because no one would actually SEE Dad
walk into it, and
actually he wasn;t techincally tall enough ...but he was tall~
so they would connect the sound, with his reaction,,,
& just assume he was tall enough that he actually
walked into the parking sign. People are quite gullible .
All I know is I was as stunned as they were, only I knew
my dad and he had done this trick many times.
Boy would I laugh , laugh, laugh.
Always the joker , the magician, the optical illusionist...
the mindtician ... i made that word up! you like it,
it means:
the master of trickery upon the minds of others!
That was My Dad...our dad. Johnny Bottoms.
Monday, January 11, 2016
Sir David Bowie
The duo of an eye color split: heterchromia!
In 1987 , I was working for a short while over at Quad Recording Studio,
longest chick gopher job I ever had. In a man's world,
chicks move forward like snails.
I was sent over to 168 west 48thst. to drop off some master 2" tapes.
I'm standing in the door way, waiting for them to Buzz me in, as
some really tall guys approach the door.
Buzz the buzzer already!!!..... I say to myself .
I glance over and from the corner
of my eye~ the third guy is clearly someone I KNOW>!
My heart hits the sublevels of the subway system below me.
My blood is racing like a nascar speedway racer and
I immediately square off my body, facing the door~I look down.
The Buzzer sounds and one of the men push the door open, smiling
and sort of giggling along with his buddies.
We all collect into the tiny elevator. There is a round glass
window towards the top of the elevator door as it closes and
I feel like I am in a sub-marine: only we are all going up.
I press the floor number and Stare straight ahead~ because he is standing right behind me.
Of course we are all going to the same spot.The fellow slightly to my left addresses me,
" Your shy!" giving me a big smile," DO you know who you're riding the elevator with?!"
I reply ever so slowly and fragiley looking behind me at
David Bowie,
"Yes, Nice to meet you."
He smiles back at me , nods his head at them.
They all started laughing, and I believe David Bowie was hardly thrilled with
their tactics.
He knew I was trying to respect his space. I was not going to be the screaming groupy chick
that I had locked up inside my mental attic.
I mean it;s a catch 22. Sometimes stars need alittle reminder how great they are?!!
Perhaps he hadn't made a good album since Let's Dance in 1983...I don;t know.
I was also in "work" mode.
It wasn;t about that, and Sir Bowie knew it. My excitement was in the inability to
speak and it was obvious....
Sometimes people go bonkers , other times they faint... well I was in the small Valley
somewhere between both of those places.
Working in the recording industry
I got to see the likes of many "rock stars & rappers".....
or being raised under my father;s wing in the
world of theatre ~ "they" are just people too!
I felt like I had intuition when to approach or stand off.
In all reality the talented rockstars, singers, writer, producers,
actors, artists of any kind, whatever label they fall under~
the gift to follow thru and create while in your physical body,
shall I say ~ in this your lifetime ~ is the truest gift.
David Bowie was an Icon!
He made me feel like there was no sex to him.
His Female and Male energy was so united that in my
opinionated teenage days~ I was confused by him~
no denyin his music made me move, He was a classic , a pure natural.
This morning, I heard He dropped a new album 2 days be4 he passed.
I am greatful for his art , his heart and his soul.
For all his creation.
Recently loosing my dad, I wonder if it's any easier on a family knowing their beloved is sick
I mean we are all going there one day anyway...
& as we shed our skins many times during our lifetime
I will miss the many levels of Bowie. He was far too young.
R.I.P. David Bowie
Wednesday, January 6, 2016
It;s the simple things....in a kids mind.
Almost 12 years ago, Zeb was just about 3 years old.
He got some crazy foam for Christmas. It was stunning how long it took
for me to find the Kid within myself to see the "value" in that gift.
Honestly , at first I was appalled at the gift !
Thinking~ "THAT:S IT?!! That;s ALL you got the kid?!"
I was missing the entire happiness of my child. Honestly , Had I BECOME THAT ADULT ~
The CRAZY FoaM had gone to my heaD!!!
cringe at myself ~ straight up embarrassing ~ )
At the time, Beyond my screwed perspective~ clearly I was missing something...
At some point god, took the blindfold from my heart. It took a couple hours`
but somehow... some way....
the judge mental glasses came off ~ allowed me to clearly SEE..... looking in the mirror.
I saw a diseased "SHEEPLE" of the 'more' mentality.
The perspective in me had shifted!
Thank god... HOW.?!.
I don;t even know ~ but it had transformed.....
The PRESENT in the Crazy Foam was the PRESENCE spent watching Zeb play in his Crazy Foam bubble bath. The gift of presence in " the age of outside yourselfness!"
The true gift was the expression of my child's heart , smiles, and gleam in his eyes.
This three year old is only three for one moment, one blink in time ,
the reverence that came over me ~ had me pity my very own self `~
give me the grace to rejoin the joy
of the simple things in a child;s heart. Thank you .
Why does this shine dim as we grow older. Where did I loose myself ... there for a moment.
WHat do you get kids these days that already have everything?!!
Is it better to give nothing then alittle something? Even if it;s cheezy>??
The questions don;t matter~ if your heart says do it~ then follow thru an do it.
It's none of my business what people think because in the end the gift of a smile happened.
The simple things in the heart of my inner child ~I hope it never looses it;s luster.
The sheeple perspective has a very powerful shine remover...
it;s an exercise of sorts to continue into the older days, mindful these types of changes
don;t take root.
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