Marrying George Clooney

kengay

Amy Ferris — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 14:05:05 +0000

what started out as a wonderful, sexy, romantic night turned into a mild version of halloween, including a teeny bit of howling.
most of you already know i go to physical therapy for a neck, shoulder ache pain issue.
my PT (physical therapist) said to me yesterday, “later today after you ice, put some tiger balm on your shoulder, that’ll help.”
i said, “what about bengay?”
she said, “wow, bengay. yeah, sure. that works.”

yes, yes yes … it works wonders when it’s applied to a shoulder, or the neck, or the lower back or upper back. it works. it penetrates. it soothes. it takes away some of the aches & pains so you can roll around and have a romantic sexy kinda night.

it does not however work at all when accidently* rubbed onto a penis.

and never ever ever put an ice pack on a penis after you accidently* apply bengay.

trust me.

suffice it to say it was a 2 ambien night.

(*yes, accidently. you must ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS wash your hands after applying. )

for a friend.

Amy Ferris — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 21:05:37 +0000

a friend called me today and told me that one of her neighbor’s committed suicide.
she asked me to re-post this blog (from much earlier this summer).

this one’s for her.

a friend of sorts (more like an acquaintance) committed suicide this week. a neighbor. he lived a very honest & true life, he was gay & very open & very loving, and he created a very successful business. he had a great passion for community, in the true sense of the word. he was loved by many and loved many in return.

i wonder about the moment: what makes you GO THROUGH WITH IT. swallow the pills, pull the trigger, hang yourself? what point do you reach, one that feels so intensely weighed down with no end in sight. is it fear and doubt that creeps in and finds a home? is it a secret that is buried for so long and then makes it’s way out into the world, is it the weight of unbearable? is it an illness that grabs hold and begins to ravage you and you think, no more… no more, on my terms now. is it just that life feels so overwhelming, the bills pile up, the debt is mounting, the phone doesn’t stop, the race will never be won, there is no light at the end of the tunnel?
what is it that makes you stop and say, no, time to go. i can’t anymore.

i’ve had some fierce days lately. weaning myself off cymbalta was horrific at best. HORRIFIC. my god, a wrong dosage can throw you into a major spin and not let go. it’s painful and frightening and ‘crazy’ isn’t a big enough a word to describe the rollercoaster ride. i sat in a HAMPTON INN room wondering how ken would survive without me. i replayed all & every scenario in my mind. and i realized that ken was the type who would mourn for a month or two, but then he would need to be with a woman. he would. that’s who ken is. and i don’t fault him for that. i personally would want a huge amount of alone time, like months and months and months. but not my ken. he likes the company, and he’s such a treat and such a good man, he shouldn’t be alone. and that would be his choice. i racked my brain thinking, who who who… and when none came up that i would find suitable as an “amy” replacement, i gave up on the whole idea. fuck it i thought, and then then then… one person came to mind (these are available women, not women with partners/spouses/wives/husbands): liz randol. she is truly the cats meow. sexy, funny, smart, gorgeous, vibrant, edgy … a dream girl. whew. that’s one less thing to worry about. but then i started thinking of other friends who are available, marcia, and claire … and i decided that this was too much while weaning myself off cymbalta. it was making me even crazier. thinking of single woman for my husband.
i sat there and i thought awful thoughts, suicidal thoughts, bad thoughts. i felt like i had no control. but i also knew deep in my soul, that no, no… i didn’t want to die. i just wanted the pain, the suffering to die, to go away. this was not an unfamiliar feeling… i had it many times before. feelings of sadness, of unworthiness, the black holes. the big bad black holes, but mine always, always, with a tint of grey.

and, i wonder now, what is it, that moment when it goes completely black. no hope, no belief, no way out. do we really think that life would be better without us? do we really believe that folks wouldn’t miss us like crazy and somewhere in their soul blame themselves for something unsaid, undone, misconstrued.
i am all for people choosing how they die. i am. i think it’s the most important part of life — the end — everything we do is about that last moment. it is. who you are at the end of your life says everything about you. were you kind? loving? generous? greedy? selfish? nasty? cruel? unforgiving? vibrant? spiritual? god fearing? mean spirited? will you be alone at the end of your life, will there be friends and family talking about you with great appreciation, or will it be SRO at the church, the synagogue, the buddhist community center, the shrine, the temple, the mosque…
and so i sit here on a gorgeous day, wondering what was it that made him take his life? what moment, what pain, what thought… and i am reminded when i sat in that hotel room in the hampton inn on that evening not so long ago, my head throbbing from so many thoughts & fears & doubts & worries, filled with the should i & could i & what if, and my god, i could understand the weight of the pain & torment that runs through our hearts & bodies when we are so very scared, so very confused.
and i wonder, could a word have made a difference? an action? a smile? a hug? a kiss? a phone call?

yes, for some, it does matter. i know that for sure.
just to hear someone say:
you are not alone.

you are not alone. and every heart is exactly the same. it’s just the package is different.

and for some, yes, life becomes a hardship. a burden. a weight. the alarm goes off, and it’s over.
and then i think hmmm, life and death, we really shouldn’t judge either.
but while we have you, while you’re here, while you’re touchable and kissable and huggable, we ought to take advantage of that.

and that’s all i have to say.

taking the “ick” out of plastic

Amy Ferris — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 19:50:02 +0000

okay so here i am standing in front of the bathroom vanity mirror at around midnight, and i find a few new tiny lines that i hadn’t noticed a few nights before. my husband tells me they’re laugh lines. i tell him to fuck himself. that ends that conversation. but truthfully, honestly, ken likes my face plenty. he likes that it has wear & tear, and shows & expresses great joy and sadness and fear and doubt and happiness and sorrow and pain and yes, oh yes yes yes yes yes … ecstacy. he likes that i no longer feel compelled to cover up any of those lines that are popping up left and right. i used to wear a bunch of make-up, years & years ago. base, and blush and mascara and kohl eyeliner and lipstick. now i wear a hint of mascara and lipstick. that’s it. like i said, he likes my face. and through his eyes i have grown to love my face.

i like who i see when i look in the mirror.

i recently stood behind a barbie doll in whole foods. this was no young chick. this was a woman who nipped and tucked her face into a retroactive trout. it was so very scary. her upper lip was so full it touched the tip of her nose. i mean, really…. i couldn’t help but stare. everyone seemed to be staring, looking, checking her out. her face was absolutely expressionless. like a halloween mask. her skin was taut and thin and holy shit… so, so tight. i felt compelled to acknowledge her – because yes, i feel compelled to acknowledge everyone – but then common sense grabbed hold and i was so afraid her face would crack if she smiled back that i refrained. honestly. she was thin and frail and wore tons — ropes and ropes — of necklaces; she actually clanked. and yes, i do get the whole concept of wanting to stay youthful, and trying to keep life at arms length as it comes at you really fast and furious. and yeah sure, i kind of get the whole notion of wanting to stay young, although with age comes great wisdom and amazing knowledge and forgiveness and yes, lines well earned.

my guess, she was around 75, 80 years old.

it was all in her eyes. her entire life was right there in her eyes. and i gotta tell you, you can stretch your entire face up to the heavens, if you don’t love what you see when you look in the mirror at midnight it’s gonna come back to haunt you.

eventually.

3 women walk into a bar

Amy Ferris — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 02:36:42 +0000

full disclosure:
i was one of 3 judges for the PEN/USA literary (non-fiction) award this year. (the award will be presented on november 17th)

it was one of those experiences where you say, “yeah, sure, absolutely definitely thrilled to do it,” and then… then, you wanna shoot yourself for overextending. especially, oh my god, especially when three large cartons arrive via fed-ex filled with books.
hardcover, trade paperback, small, big, 200 pages, 500 pages. memoirs. non-fiction. real, true stories. each and every one.
piles of books. you stare at the books and think, “what the fuck was i thinking?” maybe it was the ambien. maybe i said yes when I was in a groggy REM state, “yeah, sure, why not, send them on.” and then you go through the pile and think, hmmm, not one of these books is mine. then jealousy and rage and envy take over. and after that unpleasant stage passes, you dig in & start reading.

but really, truly this isn’t about getting cartons of books. or being overlooked.
no.
this is about 3 women from 3 different cities who did not know each other at all, who did not share one spoken word, not one glass of wine, not one recipe (okay that’s stretching it), 3 women who agreed more often than not, disagreed on occasion, agreed some more, re-read, whined a bit, re-read again, complained a teeny bit, fought for those we deeply loved (to the death), tossed out the ones we didn’t (with ease), a pile here, a pile there, held our ground, coined a few new phrases, and managed to pick 4 books (one winner, 3 finalists) that make you believe that every human being has a story to tell, and good god when it’s told with audacity and humanity and a raw, brutal honesty you realize, holy shit, wow, how lucky did i get get – i get to read all these gorgeous books. and the best part … even though we never talked, we never met … we picked brilliant amazing memoirs by brilliant writers, all of them. with great ease, and unity.
3 women worked seamlessly to pick a couple of pieces of work that hopefully will make a difference in this world.

and i might add that sharon doubiago & samantha dunn made a huge difference in mine.

so, here’s to women.
we rock.
and fucking roll.

i have a dream too

Amy Ferris — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 15:14:33 +0000

i have a dream that one day my pale skinned blonde blue eyed 2 year old granddaughter will have a play date with a dark skinned brown eyed little boy, and then they will have a play date with a musical theater loving young gay boy and a folk singing young lesbian and then they will all be playing with a palestinian boy who will be playing with an israeli little girl who will be playing with an asian set of twins who will be playing with a disabled boy who will be playing with a special needs little girl who will be playing with a mexican boy who will be playing with a buddhist and a muslim and an islamic and a mormon and an atheist and a greek orthodox …
… white and black and brown and tall and skinny and overweight and short and gay and straight and right and left and the words that they speak will be filled with tolerance and kindness and love and care and disagreements and opinions and they will embrace their differences and they will all use condoms.

i also have a dream that my husband will drive just a teeny bit slower on route 80. it’s always astonishing to me that after a car trip i feel as if i’ve had micro-abrasion & botox.

i’m thinking “tea” shirts today

Amy Ferris — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 14:53:08 +0000

i’m just sitting around today thinking tee shirts. not something i do on a regular basis. truth be told, i am a white tee shirt girl. nothing beats a white tee shirt as far as i’m concerned. you can dress it up – with pearls, or dress it down – with jeans. but today i’m thinking quotes, sayings… a word or two or three.

a couple that come to mind:

PA (L) IN
my ass

&

TEAD OFF

send in your thoughts. what would you like on a tee shirt?

and yes, i would most definitely wear a tee shirt that said: PEACE, PLEASE.

most definitely.

which comes first, chicken or egg?

Amy Ferris — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 20:20:04 +0000

okay, so, between the 400 million egg recall slash possible salmonella outbreak & the incorrect inflammable information – the virulent hatred & madness – over the “world trade center” mosque…

this is a short blog.
a to the point blog.

i think palin & beck & limbaugh & the tea partiers & the right wing nuts & the whole mess of them should take responsibility for the fact that they are igniting a massive fire in this country filled with fear & hate & anger & intolerance & it is fucking unacceptable.

it is unacceptable.

a man was driving his cab, something has he done for over 20 years, he picked up a passenger who was hailing a cab, the passenger got into the cab, and after a few blocks asked the cabdriver if he was a muslim, the cabdriver said yes, and then he was brutally horrifically attacked. a hate crime. a violent horrific hate crime.

it’s not the eggs people, it’s all the fucking chickens who are walking around without their fucking heads.

walk of shame

Amy Ferris — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 19:48:01 +0000

okay. so here’s the deal. i walked 35 blocks last night, from west 66th to 101st. upper west side. west end avenue.
actually, i walked a bit more, i cut over to go to broadway. so, 38 blocks.
all in all a long frickin’ walk.

this is what happened.

every three or four blocks — i had a strange, unsettling, uncomfortable weird memory jag (we’re talking over a ten year, or so, period).
let me share some of those memories with you:

huh, i slept with so & so in this building.
shit, i did drugs, bad drugs, in that building.
oh my god, i threw up in that lobby.
holy shit, i gave a blow job to so & so in that brownstone.
oh my god, that’s where i got robbed with whatshisname.
wow, that was a bad sex night.
whoa, that’s the block i had a bad, miserable fuck you no no no fuck you fight.
oh jesus, i don’t remember his name, but i remember the apartment.
oh, fuck, i did that there?
oh, no, she & i are no longer speaking.
ugh, that was a horrible night.
oh no no no no no, that was me. oh god, no. ugh.
i did what where?
every few blocks.
and then i got to the restaurant, and felt so awful, and so tired. and so shameful. i could barely stand up.
and then – THEN – i noticed a woman (who was sitting in a small group at a round table with other lovely looking people) looking – staring – at me and i thought oh sure, sure, sure… she probably knew me back when and i felt more shame & disgust and wanted to crawl into a ball & hide in a hole, when she smiled and pointed to my necklace and gave me a thumbs up.

oh thank god(dess).

and as i sipped my wine, i wondered (privately, not to the friends i was with) if everyone at the restaurant had a secret or two or three or four, or a memory or two or three or four that was lodged in their soul. maybe. surely. i mean we all do. bad moments, bad memories, bad experiences … we were young, foolish, wanted to be loved, wanted to be noticed, wanted attention. praise. some of us did bad things. dated bad people. wrote bad checks. wore bad clothes. gave blow jobs to strangers who later became hedge fund managers.

shame shame shame shame.

i drank myself silly last night.

there will be much blood

Amy Ferris — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 15:13:38 +0000

forbes just came out with the 10 highest paid authors. i was not on that list. i was shocked, dismayed. and then my husband brought me back down to earth with a copy of our bank statement. hmmm. and then i had this amazing a ha moment, the one that could have put me right on that list. in between patterson & king.

a couple of months ago i was in the middle of one of my more attractive nut-dances, a cross between a crack addict & screaming mimi, when ken turned to me — no shit — and said, “you know you’re just sucking the blood outta me.”

had i had the ability in that moment to stop and think – pause if you will – i could have changed my destiny in that moment. i could have gone from being an average everyday wacky funny weird menopausal woman to, get this: A MENOPAUSAL VAMPIRE.

MARRYING DRACULA, CONFESSIONS FROM A MIDDLE AGED VAMPIRE

come on. come on.
i know you can see it.
i know i can:
all those old boyfriends i googled in the middle of the night…

CALLING ALL WOMEN: PEEC WOMEN’S RETREAT INFO

Amy Ferris — Sun, 22 Aug 2010 20:01:13 +0000

CALLING ALL WOMEN!!!!!

REGISTRATION Begins Monday August 23, 2010!!!!
Call – 570-828-2319

PEEC Presents:
WOMEN LIVING FULLY
Investing In Ourselves
Oct. 24 – 27 2010

Imagine yourself nestled in beautiful, inspiring surroundings, your only goal to rest and indulge in self discovery. Imagine meeting like-minded women who come prepared to explore the same questions that run through your mind constantly… “Now What?” …“Who Am I?…
“How do I make the most of the life that is ahead of me?” “…What is it to be a true friend – to have a true friend?”…“What matters the most to me at this time in my life?”… “How can I make a difference in the world?”

PEEC (Pocono Environmental Education Center, Dingman’s Ferry, PA www.peec.org) is holding this, their first annual Women’s Retreat, and have invited inspiring authors, experts in their field and other speakers who will gather to explore all of those questions and more.

We all know that our lives and daily choices are best governed by our
most deeply held values, beliefs and priorities. Yet there is much to
distract and dilute even our best of intentions. This glorious
three-day women’s retreat offers you the opportunity to reconnect
with that which is most important to you and find new ways to live
that are reflective of who you are and what your value. This is an
experience dedicated to women’s complete well being, both individually
and collectively.

You will be inspired by award winning and internationally published authors and other experts, including:

Kristine Van Raden & Molly Davis (www.mattersthatmatter.com)
Monica H. Holloway – Cowboy & Willis; Driving with Dead People, and others.
Holly Holmes Dexter
Amy Ferris
Elizabeth Geitz
Robyn Hatcher
Amy Litzenberger
Gregory Ann Cox
Heidi Normand

And others!

This one of a kind retreat will provide an insightful and inspiring program highlighting the things that are vital to women in mid-life, and encourage living life to the fullest. Topics range from living authentic and meaningful lives, financial well being, health and wellness to the need
for women to move beyond competition and towards mutual support, completion and collaboration.

Believing that learning can be a collaborative and supportive experience, all offerings will be participatory and introspective, inspiring and challenging. Sessions will include a combination of teaching, discussion and thoughtfully designed writing and thinking exercises.

You are invited to participate in an experience that will both inspire you and allow you to inspire others.

Space is limited.

Cost is $560. which includes lodging, meals and all workshops & activities.

To register: Call – 570-828-2319 and ask to register for Women Living Fully