DAY II and beyond

“Confidence comes from belonging,” she said the night before.

SCENE ONE: POST PILATES

In Suburbian sprawls, one is always on the edge of a parking lot. The scale of everything feels so inhuman. There was nothing pleasant to look at. I had insisted on walking, however, because I couldn’t tolerate the idea of taking a car to a location twenty minutes away on foot, a bloated empty pocket. Advertising. Gas stations. Apartment complexes, and office parks. Names of physicians and lawyers fell in lists. 

MARIA: So you’re where? 

BARBARA HARRIS: I’m just waking up!

MARIA: You wake up!

BARBARA HARRIS:  How was your place, was it cool?

MARIA: It’s alright… 

BARBARA HARRIS:  My itinerary…I gotta figure it out…how good are you at talking to people about insurance…?

MARIA: To be honest, I’m not that great at it.

BARBARA HARRIS:  Insurance has gone down. It’s gotten worse. I have to get on board with that because Mayo Clinic isn’t open to everybody. I was wondering if you’d help me on that a little bit, if we could sit there, or go over there. It is a nice ride! It’s a pretty place! I mean, they were telling me that I was going to die if they didn’t cut into my heart. Honestly, four people said that! That it was immediate, and they were so angry…

MARIA: I remember but wait, hold on. What exactly do you need to do in terms of your insurance?

BARBARA HARRIS:  Well I’m not sure! I have two names, my married name and then my name. My social is Sills–that was my married name. I had that for a long time and I never changed it back. And then I have to get divorce papers, which I think I have, and marriage papers…original…boring…anyway, I have all these papers…

MARIA: Does it matter?

BARBARA HARRIS:  I don’t think it matters if they are smart but they aren’t smart.

MARIA: What are you doing this for? You trying to file a claim?

BARBARA HARRIS:  I have to get the proper insurance or I’ll have to cut out Mayo…

MARIA: But you do have insurance…

BARBARA HARRIS: They don’t take all the insurances. I know people who can argue their way into all the insurances. They want me to do a gynecological exam, but that may be too much money under the bridge…

MARIA: (pause) So. You want know what is covered by your insurance and what isn’t covered by your insurance..?

BARBARA HARRIS:  Well, yeah.

MARIA: Age-old question Barbara. You’re just getting up. Give yourself a minute and have some juice. 

BARBARA HARRIS:  I have to go to exercise, I’m so stiff. I was in bed for two years, I lost my muscle tone so I’m rigid. There is no point in living if you can’t move around…

MARIA: Why were you in bed?

BARBARA HARRIS:  Oh, if I told you you wouldn’t believe It. I don’t know the name for it, but I ate so many nuts.

MARIA: Did you say nuts?

BARBARA HARRIS:  Yeah…

MARIA: Oh no…I eat so many nuts. What happened?

BARBARA HARRIS:  I do want to tell you though that I did graduate with high honors, so I wasn’t totally down the totem pole. I had a pin for high grades. I just wanted to let you know.

MARIA: That doesn’t surprise me. You’re clearly very smart.

BARBARA HARRIS:  No I’m not. Especially now. Sounds like there are birds in the background…

MARIA: There are a lot of birds in the background. I’m outside.

BARBARA HARRIS: How beautiful…

MARIA: I just did a class…

BARBARA HARRIS: You did a class?

MARIA: I did this really intense kind of pilates that I call fascist pilates.

BARBARA HARRIS: I love pilates. I used to go seven days a week in NY. I went when Mr. Pilates was still alive. How much do the fascists charge?

MARIA: They reel you in with a discounted first week then you hit you at full price.

BARBARA HARRIS: I have this thing on aerial yoga…

MARIA: I love aerial yoga!

BARBARA HARRIS: Ok I’ve never gone but I was planning on doing that.

MARIA: Do you want to do aerial yoga together?

MARIA: Wait, where are you?

BARBARA HARRIS: I’m at AJ’s getting a juice, and I want to show it to you. You gotta see this place, you won’t believe it!

MARIA: (thinking) Who’s AJ’s?

BARBARA HARRIS: It’s really something…never seen anything like it…

MARIA: (I could hear a message blurting through the overhead speaker–aisle one) Is that the supermarket?

BARBARA HARRIS: You won’t believe it.

SCENE TWO: AJ’S

It needs editing, but it was a three-hour magnum opus…I’ll post the beginning.

I arrived at AJ’s, a clear blue sky stretching towards forever above another giant parking lot. Standing back, I regarded the scene with suspicion, knowing. What was outrageous about this picture? So much. Squeaky clean SUVs pulled into the giant lot, parked, pulled out reflected the sunlight. Beep beep. Paper bags crumpled, went into the truck, followed by banal murmurs. Ponytails were swinging with juices. Seniors opened newspapers at tables. A train of shopping carts make a racket, an employee pushing them back to homebase. I scanned the crowd at different depths. I knew exactly who I was seeking to spot, the Where’s Waldo of Scottsdale, Arizona. I knew who she was. I clocked her — blends in but can’t help but stick out.

Barbara Harris was parked in front of the entrance of AJs in Christmas red velvet leggings, a polo shirt, and a Prada fisherman’s hat beige with red accents. Big geriatric frames. Rouge. Her hair was long and straight now, even ashy blond. Lighter. Before I could even say hello she was quick on the draw ninja Harris. A true ninja.

BARBARA HARRIS: Hello! What car is that? 

MARIA: It’s a Cooper…

BARBARA HARRIS: What’s the paint?

MARIA: I think the real kind.

PAUSE. We stared at one another like city slickers. I did not speak. She did not speak. She peered at me.

BARBARA HARRIS: You’ll see how un-simple this place is (closing all car doors). First of all, they’re so seductive. They want you to buy everything before you get into the store. It’s outrageous.

(We enter)

She gestured to the scene before us—the home and body section. She wasn’t giving me the first line, I thought. I let her flail a second to make sure. I regarded the scene.

As an aside, I think I learned that layers are a sign of a good piece of dramatic writing. As you read this scene, keep that in mind. She agreed to talk to me, first of all, a woman who never spoke to the press. People asked me “how I did it,” but she was at the end of her life, and I wasn’t just anyone, actually, not in this case. I was an unusual person who came from, what would be called, “a background,” so she might be gathering that, not knowing what to do with it. More than that, someone can’t just change at eighty three in a meeting; you know, so what does she know about me? If she can trust me? I’m not asking her any questions…keep that in mind. I didn’t ask her any questions after the first night, so it would be on her terms. I wasn’t in a rush, we were just getting to know one another, but that, to most people, might sound unbelievable, and that might have meant that we would go on a bit of a ride because she had “a mental illness” she couldn’t talk about, helping having? Hard for her. And WHO is in charge here? Maybe in time, we’d just get past that, as I didn’t think this would be the material I would use. One would have to understand, quite simply, that she’s a person, eighty-three. There’s only so much a person can do…

We’re getting to know one another in this way. That’s fine. She felt like she was onstage in this context? I totally understood. She had a mental illness, or something? So in the Arendtian sense, she couldn’t exactly be public about it, so her behavior makes sense. On my end, I’m actually trying something new as a tactic, yes, a good one. I figured we would be improving through this? One the best in history?Okay, what an honor, so what if lines got a little blurry in her case, from what I read in the clippings, between psychological states, let me put it that way: offstage, on, personhood, even, wasn’t this who she was? The woman with many people inside of her? As a tactic, I opened up. I was putting myself out there too, if not first, because I figured she’d see through me, and she did. I could never get onstage, though I’m not saying that, but real life felt like a stage to me too, so I’m comfortable here. I didn’t see anything ill about it, necessarily, and was that fair? She diagnosed young, “she got it the worst…” her relative told me about her family, a closed subject completely. So there’s a lot going on here in a deceptively simple scene, where we’re talking about stuff, but acting is about subtext, correct? It’s less that I’m trying to make a claim that I know what the subtext is, all the time, but more so the conversation itself held so much potential. I thought, oh, maybe this is a good script, maybe this is a “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold” but film. I had no idea where this was going… and I liked that, you see, I think visibly, too, that’s a bit more my style. I took improv as an inspiration, so I had no agenda. I hated those. I wanted to write something about her, honestly, but I had no idea what that was. We were just getting to know one another, again, but one would have to keep her history in mind. She’s trying, but she can’t just make a switch. I’m not like most people, shrugging, not knowing what to do with that, even.

So big deep breath, I needed to do that. I know she’s a big deal to the field of acting, I’m pretty sure, and it’s one thing if your friend Susan is reading it, and it’s another if an actor is, a well known one. So hello, if that’s you. Hi. Anyway, I’m just sharing clips here. The way people spoke about her confused me, as I am not one to aggrandize, so I knew fame was treacherous territory, so I was going to be influenced by that brume with sparkly edges. Intoxicating even. She was THE one, I heard, or she was a big big deal in her day, and from what I heard, she still is for the field of acting, so I got a little nervous, at times, in peering out from these pages, hoping I did a solid job, simply.

I thought about her life approach “I don’t know,” you know, “does she know what she’s doing?” People weren’t sure. People weren’t SURE with me sometimes, too, and I’m looking back on this, I spent a few days with her at the end of her life, so this was the very end of March in 2018. I waited a long time, or it took me some time to put this out there. I could straddle this line of “I know” and “I don’t know”— and why people were so confused about this line, I don’t know. Do you KNOW everything that you’re doing? What’s so outrageous about the home and body section? I can hear that question, picture someone else finding this strange. Well, to me, everything. This is the strangest place. I am in agreement—100%. I get it, I do not like supermarkets and she was a founder of improv, please, so it’s the most outrageous place I’ve ever seen. And is she playing with me? You’ll see what I mean. I didn’t know until later. Until I reopened this.

MARIA: Easter is coming. 

BARBARA HARRIS: Doesn’t matter what is coming. It’s always this way.

MARIA: Do you want a bunny basket? Look at these flowers, wow…

BARBARA HARRIS:  I know…

MARIA: We got candles…

BARBARA HARRIS:  Nightgowns…

MARIA: Pineapple paraphernalia, aprons, we got shawls, we got everything here.

BARBARA HARRIS: Yeah.

MARIA: We got more pouches!

BARBARA HARRIS: (she trailed off with her arms outstretched as if handing it off to me at AJs) If you have a lot of money and you…

MARIA: …Don’t wanna go anywhere else?

BARBARA HARRIS: (after a pause) You can just shop here. Just what you need. All of this is very important.

So right here. Hello, it’s me again, interrupting this scene. She switched states, suddenly, I believe she was a true fluid, if you would, psychologically, I just don’t know what to say about the medications she was on, but she became someone else, if you would, and she was known to do that. She became a teacher. Dignified. Just like that. You had to be on your toes with her. Is she consciously doing this? I don’t know, actually. I think she’s in the thing, actually, and something is emerging from the circumstances, which is improv. I wondered if she was more geared that way? In improv, it’s not putting on a mask, but the character emerges from the circumstances of the scene. She was, I mean, people described her to me as if she were really supernatural, so she was someone with a remarkable psychological profile? One of these “mysterious” people. She occupied “the mysterious section of mental health” that I keep on hearing about, vaguely. She was a genius/illness. But I wasn’t wrong, you see, in that, we’re improving, too. I’m just approaching her as if she were one of the best, and I don’t care about where we are. We’re in the home and body section, and I figured I would learn something from her. I just thought, in that moment, oh, it doesn’t have to be LOL all the time. Okay. Thanks. Austin Pendleton said she was such a guide onstage, and I really got a taste of that. She’s establishing the stakes? I’d heard that before. But she might be, also, you know, just being who she is.

MARIA: Monkeys. Crabtree and Evelyn–always. You can’t really have a store like this without Crabtree and Evelyn.

BARBARA HARRIS: (admittedly) True. Sleeping over somewhere...it’s just stuff...nothing but stuff… just keeps going...hard to believe it.

Sleeping over somewhere: Crabtree and Evelyn brought up a clear image to my mind because it had personal significance to me, so “sleeping over somewhere” corresponds to that image in my head. I was expecting that from her, as a note, but then, improvers can sync up, which is remarkable.

MARIA: Wow it just keeps going.

BARBARA HARRIS: Hard to believe it.

MARIA: Unicorns, Buddha, trash cans.

BARBARA HARRIS: If you wanna get serious about decorating…

MARIA: I feel like this is counter-intuitive.

BARBARA HARRIS: It’s not exactly Feng Shui.

MARIA: I’m going to take a picture of this magnet: If you need anything from me, reconsider.

BARBARA HARRIS: (laughing) What does that mean?

MARIA: I don’t know, I don’t know. I don’t know what any of this means.

This is funny because I didn’t mean it. However, she was famously antipress, anti-talking to anybody to a comical pitch, so true, that was her attitude towards them, and I cracked up when I saw that magnet, because for her, it was true, wasn’t it? She laughed at that. She didn’t laugh, she made you laugh.

BARBARA HARRIS: Here is Paris!

MARIA: Of course, you can’t have a store like this without a Paris reference. 

BARBARA HARRIS: (reading) Atlas Obscura. Dunno what that’s about.

MARIA: (reading) An Explorers Guide to the World’s Hidden Wonders…

BARBARA HARRIS:  Of course these handbags are very…

MARIA: Yeah. Panda handbags.

BARBARA HARRIS:  Necessary.

MARIA: Panda handbags are very very necessary.

BARBARA HARRIS: The big one is really necessary.

MARIA: Those are for if you have a lot of things…

BARBARA HARRIS: If you wanna lean on something or you want someone to grab it, take it.

MARIA: But if you’re going to steal, why would you steal a panda bag…?

BARBARA HARRIS: It’s from a child who has like a hundred dollars in there. What are those things? Are those crosses? They have crosses?

MARIA: A long string of giant wooden crosses.

BARBARA HARRIS: My God…I don’t know!

MARIA: Do you wear them? 

BARBARA HARRIS:  I assume so! You don’t want the price tag though, or no, you leave the price tag on. Must leave the price tag on.

MARIA: I believe in transparent government, like Obama said.

MARIA: No…you don’t wear them…

BARBARA HARRIS: Yah!

MARIA: I mean, if you were a giant…that’s a necklace for a giant. 

BARBARA HARRIS: You have to be a very wealthy Christian.

MARIA: Pious…

BARBARA HARRIS: I’ve never seen anything like that!

MARIA: I think it’s decorative…

BARBARA HARRIS: Nooo!

MARIA: Come on, like this ring of ‘old’ keys. These aren’t real keys. This is ridiculous.

BARBARA HARRIS: Well.

Speaker: Pharmacy Line Two Pharmacy Line Two

MARIA: I guess you hang this.

BARBARA HARRIS: On your door I guess.

MARIA: Shower curtain? Just in case…

BARBARA HARRIS: You kill someone.

MARIA: Like these keys, can you imagine this person? “I just like old keys, I don’t use them, but the fact that they look old, I respect that. Makes me feel like I have a lot of doors to open, but without the financial burden.

BARBARA HARRIS: (reading a towel) I need a drink. Very important. After last night, I thought I’d never get up. 

MARIA: How are you feeling?

BARBARA HARRIS:  Ok.

MARIA: Well, perfume. I didn’t bring mine so let’s see how this goes. 

BARBARA HARRIS: See, you’re not even in the store yet.

MARIA: (sprays) Oof!  I’m sorry I did that. Gardenia…

BARBARA HARRIS:  No no no. Gardenia–no. 

MARIA: No is right. Voluspa…

BARBARA HARRIS: (Like a trooper, a cute one) Not even in the food section yet! You get lost in here, trying to find the food section.

MARIA: Who is the woman who wears this?

BARBARA HARRIS: This shirt? She who sleeps with dogs… Well, wakes up with fleas! I don’t know, something like that.

(to be continued as this was the MOST EPIC home and body section ever)

We got to the sushi, finally, the home and body section endless. All great. I was inspecting how many kinds of beer there were — so many beers, still taken that we were in a universe. She didn’t have her credit card. “What?” She had to find it. She had no money. We moved through the baked goods in a state of urgency to discover a stuffed baby elephant somehow sitting here. I had to see it. We sat down at a cafe table with it. She pressed its ear.

FLAPPY: Hello baby, let’s sing together…

MARIA: (gasps) No…

BARBARA HARRIS: Yeah…

FLAPPY: (sings) Do your ears hang low?  Can you tie them in a bow? Can you tie them in a knot, Can you tie them in a bow? Can you throw them o’r your shoulder like a continental soldier? Do your ears–hang–low? Do your ears flip-flop? (his ears flip-flopped) Can you use them as a mop? Are they stringy at the bottom or are they curly at the top? Can you use them as a swatter? Can you use them as a blotter?

MARIA: Can you use them as a blotter?

BARBARA HARRIS: Yeah I don’t know…

FLAPPY: Do your ears flip-flop? Do your ears stick out? Can you waggle them about…

When the song ended, she pressed his palm again.

BARBARA HARRIS: Continental soldier?

MARIA: Yeah weird lyric.

BARBARA HARRIS: Over your shoulder…like a soldier?

MARIA: Is that referring to guns? Or an item of their clothing?

BARBARA HARRIS: I don’t know!

Barbara Harris exited in a shaft of light through sliding doors. She left me with the elephant, wanted me to “contemplate it.” I did. About forty-five minutes later, Barbara returned through a shaft of light with a red pouch in her hands, bringing good news. She announced it for all to hear, opening up her red sachet. “I have a thousand dollars in here.” I couldn’t help but laugh as I threw myself towards her to protect her privacy. She was concerned that she had spent all her money for the month or forever, so she called her bank on speakerphone.

Back at the café table, we had settled, with Flappy the singing elephant between us. With her superstar cataracts on, she asked a woman on the phone for her account balance. I closed my ears and sang “la la la” to protect her privacy with a silly set of notes—remembering her cute “rar rar rar” she tacked onto her movie star-rar-rar- when she played the cutest Cinderella with one expertly off-key wish, to be a glamorous movie star, in The Apple Tree. She was a woman who couldn’t have been more turned off by that idea. THAT surprised people. I was plugging my ears, I was exploring this idea, I suppose, not knowing if this would be a choice I made that would surprise people, not knowing why. “LA LA LA…” I was so frustrated by what PEOPLE BUY! I gasped, later, because I tested it out on my friend, and she asked me why I hadn’t listened in to how much money she had! Oh my God, I gasped. I was right. That’s why. It’s so rare for someone to consider your boundaries, and in her case, as someone who was mentally ill, even, you’re supposed to respect them. I don’t care that she was famous, I don’t understand that price they SHE has to pay, at the supermarket with an otherworldly Home and Body section. She’s also a senior citizen. I do not CARE that my choices might even bring me bitterness because I am trying to be a GOOD considerate PERSON. Drove me nuts. I could feel that way too. Even my BACKGROUND got disrespected left and right. My mother wrapped me up in a SEX SCANDAL when I was FOUR.

“Are you okay?” I asked her for real.

“Yes.”

“Do you have money?”

“Yes?”

“Do you?”

She did. “Are you sure?” She was. Okay. “That’s all I cared about” between cheap cookies. Beep beep from check out. I wondered if anyone was ever real with her. I thought so deeply about the phrase of today, “you create your own reality,” when Viola Spolin, the foundress of improv, said, “reality happens between us,” and The Second City made history with that idea—Saturday Night Live. That’s what I think, about that. And then, perfect timing… we approached check out, and I couldn’t help but tune into the beep beepbeep…

BARBARA HARRIS: Well…(beep) I guess we better do the shopping now.

MARIA: (a rubber band snaps in my brain) The shopping?”

Beep…

We were starting from the top this time for groceries…I opened a pick up line book by the melons, that’s coming, as Home and Body spilled into the food section. She enjoyed that, which she didn’t have to SAY. It was how she opened the fridge and smiled. We communicate not just with words. Not everyone is hyper verbal, and my family is from Naples, so I just know that. We don’t have to talk, to talk. We do not need “words,” my cousin even decimated these so-called people who made fun of ME?! They erupt. “For not using words?” He thought words were STUPID. “People needing words…” I was known, also, for having trouble with words, I’ve since corrected that.

Blackout.

I never understood why “people,” to be vague about it, don’t approach psychology as a structural exercise. In the next part of the scene, there’s another section coming where that’s illustrated, as we’re going to go through the supermarket again to end at check-out again, and she’s going to start clocking the pharmacy sign in the back, looking back at me with lost eyes. I didn’t catch this one. She didn’t KNOW what to do around the subject of her —”struggles?” She was blank. Later, I could see how seductive this could be, people going to help her, as I tried to, and then it was NINJA Harris/bulldog puppy who did not want to go, amazing, she had an uncanny ability to disappear and reappear in improbable places, asking me “is this for sale?” A box. “Of course it is,” I didn’t miss a beat. “It’s the USA, everything is for sale.” She’d disappear again. She needed her blood pressure pills, it’s just…that’s not the only thing she needed to get. If I could redo that, I would have said, “there’s nothing unusual about needing to go to the pharmacy, I’m not going to write about that, go ahead, do what you need to do, and I’ll be here, unless you want me to go… I can even stand far away…” you see, I don’t CARE about where we are. It’s a problem that she didn’t need to have. Like, there’s nothing wrong with needing to go the pharmacy. Someone shouldn’t make a to-do about it… she was open, in a sense, but people can get weird around “these issues,” if you would. I was “just there,” so I didn’t realize it, as I was following her lead. We stood side by side about 10 feet away from the pharmacist window. I did not know.

The pharmacist, everyone a star here, looked over at her and me, standing side by side and looking at her with “I don’t know” eyes, about 10 feet away. In one sentence, she revealed how alone she was. She was kind, even glad to see that family was there. “We never see you with family around…” I let that be, not knowing what she was going to say. She was in charge. That might have taken some time, if you catch my drift, as she’s perfectly capable. I could imagine that, I suppose speaking from personal experience, whose doing what, as this exchange caused her confusion, might have been tough to tell. I am not doing anything, unless you want me to, but that would take time. It was the way she pivoted her torso and flashed four fingers, “this is my cousin fourth removed.” The pharmacist blinked and slowly looked over at me. It was a funny moment. I had to not break. “And I like the number four,” I tried to go with it. “It’s my favorite number, because it’s the only number that’s spelled with the amount of…letters, four letters, four, and I don’t know another number like that…” The pharmacist took that in, and said, simply, “well, it’s nice to see you have family around.” You know, standing there, I don’t speak to the majority of my family, so I wasn’t just anyone. I had so many family problems. They’d probably lie, too, you know, or not exactly tell the full story. Again, I pursued her profile because I came from a particular background so I didn’t have to pretend like I didn’t. This is my cousin, lol, fourth removed.

But first, the shopping. We’re about to go into Robert Altman’s Nashville, somehow, in the supermarket, which became the most perfect setting for a story about fame, today, I thought, with the countless labels… we’re all a brand in the “supermarket,” to mention Jean Baudrillard’s America, as he went in search for “Astral America” in his hilarious and prophetic road trip that he took across the United States around the fall of the Berlin Wall. The man who introduced me to Harris believed that “no one remembered her because of our collective amnesia,” meaning, he was referencing this book. Baudrillard wondered what was going to happen to a culture without roots in history, which is a complicated statement to make, considering the erasure of Native American history, however, there’s truth in it, even in thinking about that. “Amnesia,” he described driving as “the most perfect form” of it, “everything to be discovered, everything to be obliterated.” And we happened to be in the Sonoran, a desert with more than one identity as if there was nothing unnatural about it, which stirs the sentiment of “aw, so true,” when it might not last. It became funny, picturing Harris moving through some Baudrillard comment that’s still going to resonate, somehow. I even tried my hand on some Steinbeck inspired opening to this book, just because, from what I understand, she was really considered one of the greats, and improv is an arguably an American artform. So there you go. “Tiny but mighty,” something like that. There were moments where Baudrillard added to the experience, in other words, especially this scene, even thinking about him as someone who projected himself out of the mind. Look, she was a genius, no? That’s why I was here. I thought this scene was really good as a scene, looking back on it.

Especially when we start bantering about the dog bone being a snack for me, and we get to the chips, and she explodes. “CHIPS! You can’t get away from CHIPS! I don’t…” “Wanna taco about it?” A clever towel. So funny. The clever towel section was — exclusively about alcoholism. Just one clever phrase after another about alcoholism, with Santa somewhere, randomly in view with a lot of cactus paraphenalia. Bottle openers, key chains, magnets. We’re in — wink — joking/not joking territory with these towels, and I’m going to use that to point out a psychological state, are you for real? People like unreal. Real goes two ways. Meaning, people wondered if she was for real, are you for real? I understood that angst, too, actually. “Is this funny?” She wondered. I’ll al-call-you later. “The person who buys it is funny.” She bopped around to that. “Are they?” Sincerely asked. You’d like, what’s interesting about a supermarket, parking lots, Scottsdale, but these banal locations became artful, as we’re two people trying to connect in aching loneliness of modern life, surrounded by unrealism in Home and Body.

I still have to work on this and finish this section, as I think as is it works as a piece of dramatic writing, actually, since I even learned from her, which was funny. Layers, right, check. I expected that, but still, I don’t know that exactly. We’re having different conversations at once, it seems. I can play like a dog bone is really a snack for me, you know, as she played “I don’t know.” I can push an envelope, ask her if she means orange the fruit or color in front of dish soap, obviously. It was fun, to not relate like everything was serious, literal, inside the lines that people aren’t aware of, it didn’t have to be about the thing itself. I can say something that doesn’t totally make sense right in front of the soap. This way of interacting didn’t bother me. It’s not that hard or weird to see the world with a fresh pair of eyes, even, though “I don’t know.” Right. I thought, or I was beginning to think, as someone who was clearly like that, you see, “I don’t know,” how much trouble that perspective got me into. I was thinking about that. I was. The “I don’t know.” I wasn’t pretending, you see, in a way, as I was clearly someone who could make that choice. Was I always aware of it? No. Awareness turns out to be a layered exercise. It was exhausting, though, annoying, because people didn’t know I wasn’t being serious, sometimes. Have you ever lost the line between you and a role, like motherhood, or parent, or what people think about you, versus who you really are? So, again, I’m considering who she is, and I believe I am right that my perspective might be unexpected.

This whole scene is sort of genius, isn’t it? That word. That was a strong idea around her. I don’t know what to say. That spills out from me, from time to time. Her taking me here to avoid this, to try this, to feel me out, to reveal herself, to play with me, too, maybe, in touches, flashes, but THIS exchange would be a process, how could that not be? With all theses confusing narratives about her, mental health (in the fifties) around her, as I stand there… with several titles in mind from the Huffington Post about “seven distinct personalities over here, crippling OCD over here,” as the world has changed, sort of, around mental health. I had two families that were mentally ill, people, listen up. So hello, I am “the Joker’s Daughter,” a fun character idea I had, because my mother was a real Joker. She even looks like one. Why psychology doesn’t always come with mental health, I do not know. I do not understand it. This is a structural exercise to me in a sense. I just wished her relief, really, just because that could not have been easy… having a mental health condundrum in the sixties? Before her time, Barbara Harris. Eventually, maybe, I would have talked to her about my family, but it was not the time, I told her the tiniest sentence.

And that’s what makes her genius, in a really funny way. Her mental health struggles just made her MORE relevant to today’s audiences which I thought about later as a sweet beacon of light that broke through all the tension. Everybody has a mental health problem, global crisis. Even in thinking about improv as projecting a person out of their mind, what is mental health? Boom—Barbara Harris up to bat, turning AJs Supermarket into a stunning scene ripe with cultural commentary, about mental health, even about fame. I didn’t really care that much about an article, necessarily, but I would have to produce something, and I never got there. It took time to even relinquish all the stuff around her, too. Treacherous territory, fame, and we might not be aware, you see, that one’s world might encourage them to develop traits that might not help them. There’s nothing wrong with her, it’s more that I thought she might have been exhausted sometimes by keeping up appearances, if this was part of it, which was funny. I had sides that I ended up being a bit embarrassed about.

I saw this time becoming a play, speaking of the creative freedom of not knowing where it’s going, and that’s a thrilling feeling when you meet someone, too. I saw a post apocalyptic play in a black box, where we come up with the items from the Home and body section. Just picturing Harris sunbathing, in a black box, “Pootin.” When I saw that, when I saw that! “Pootin, no!”

“I sort of love these pop cards though,” I said. We needed that color. I meant it. I had a sincere humor, too, as she did, and that’s when people laughed at me, but I didn’t blow people away despite myself when I stepped onto a stage. But she was sincere, which makes me recall the first thing she ever said at the future Second City, literally, as she couldn’t open her mouth, talk, when she first arrived. She silenced the room, too, when she finally raised her hand to give the moral of the story in an improv exercise. “Love is the key that opens every door…” Mike Nichols laughed, because she just opened her mouth, and how touching, if her confidence, she said, came from “belonging.” As someone who had a mental illness, I feel the need to reiterate that. Even her main trait, of making people “care” sounds like a joke, if we keep in mind the book, "Nobody Cares for Crazy People.”

“Yeah.” She agreed, of course she did. About the popup cards. We spent a little quality time, here. “Yeah, those are wonderful, yeah.” I’m using this scene as is, but she inspired one idea after another, she really did. I never had an experience like that before, though, once I worked out my family problems, admittedly, I felt much more creative and clear, so I had a wealth of ideas and I saw this time just blooming with potential. She did, she really inspired one idea after another, and I thought that was rather remarkable, as a real muse. This “peanut,” Nichols said, “a ninja,” respectfully, to me. She’s a ninja. “In switch blade fight,” a journalist wrote, “the smart money would be on Harris.” I found that to be really true. Just the experience of trying to get her to the pharmacy was ninja Harris throwing tactics…slowing down…even. “Is this for sale?” Honestly. She can’t say, “I don’t want to go,” she can’t say, “I don’t want you to go,” she can’t quite navigate that.

Thanks for reading, and keep on. Next, is the scene that happened later on that night… it sort of touches upon her “people scene,” which she developed at The Second City, which involved people revealing themselves over the course of the scene. You’ll see what I mean…

SCENE FIVE

(BARBARA and MARIA eat sushi on her bed, Chobani standing by)

VOICEOVER

In the criminal justice system…sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous.

In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories.

(SUV CHANGE OF SCENE)

DETECTIVE I

That’s a lot of t-shirts…

MARIA. So, somebody got murdered by a schizophrenic guy who also has a t-shirt business?

BARBARA. Hm…

MARIA. When you’re watching actors, like these people…

DETECTIVE I

We’ve got some questions about Grand and Bob Cockner.

(BARBARA and MARIA FREEZE)

JONAH

Why?

DETECTIVE I

Did you know they tried to shut down the entire clothing business a few days before the murders?

JONAH

They wouldn’t do that…

BARBARA. Is he the one who is psychotic or…?

MARIA. Yeah.

BARBARA. Is he playing psychotic? I mean, he looks a little strange but…

DETECTIVE I

Were you involved in a government operation?

MARIA. I don’t really know…

JONAH

(laughing)

No, it’s a t-shirt business

MARIA. What is up with the t-shirts?

DETECTIVE I

We work for the government too you know…

JONAH

Well, you know, there’s the government, then, there’s the government…

BARBARA: So he’s gotta get the money from…

JONAH

It’s a need-to-know basis. They need. To know.

BARBARA. Is that Jonah? The psychotic?

MARIA. Yeah.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

DETECTIVE II

(on a computer)

Look at this…

DETECTIVE II

The old knife sheath of his that the police found?

(BARBARA and MARIA FREEZE)

DETECTIVE II

…It had DNA inside that matches five of the serial killer’s previous victims.

DETECTIVE I

Jonah Applebaum is…

MARIA. Uh oh…

the box car basher?

BARBARA. (high-pitched) The box car basher?!

(SUV CHANGE OF SCENE)

CHIEF

I’m worried about everything. Worried him about killing someone else, about the way this office is run, a serial killer in our hands and then released–am I being too picky?

MARIA. (laughing)

BARBARA. (mildly amused)

(SUV CHANGE OF SCENE)

PROSECUTORS

Mr. Applebaum is also the suspect for eight other murders.

JUDGE

But not the three from the other day?

BARBARA. Three?!

PROSECUTORS

No.

JUDGE

Well, I guess I’m going to have to buy myself a score card. Alright, the charges are dismissed. We’re going to keep Mr. Applebaum in a mental health unit.

BARBARA. Mental health unit is like jail but…

JUDGE

A witness who committed NINE murders identical to the ones charged here?

 BARBARA. (amused)

(LAW AND ORDER CHANGE OF SCENE)

DETECTIVE

Your missions, Jonah, they involved killing people.

JONAH

What part of "I’m not at liberty to discuss it,” do you not understand?

BARBARA. Doesn’t sound psychotic to me…

DETECTIVE

You told your friends that the KGB tried to kill you…

BARBARA. (interested) hm…

JONAH

I’m still here.

MARIA. How do you play someone who is crazy?

BARBARA. You don’t! Let them think you’re crazy. Be a scientist in your head or something.

MARIA. (laughing) Be a scientist of seagulls!

BARBARA. Why are you always wearing black?

MARIA. The SEAGULL.

BARBARA. Oh, I’m the seagull, yes, yes. Oh yes, yes, I am the seagull, hard to do. She really does though. Isolation is terrible.

X

So he’s not completely crazy? He believed it was a cover…

X

The jury won’t buy any of this if he starts ranting about the KGB. What about anti-psychotic drugs?

X

They could make a difference but he refuses to take them.

X

We cannot make him unless he’s a threat to himself.

BARBARA. Unless he wants to…

X

Are you sure that’s a good idea?

BARBARA. What can they do? They can’t do both…

JONAH

I thought they were protecting me from the Russians…now I realize they were getting ready to kill me.

BARBARA. They mentioned the Russians. I guess that’s some sort of giveaway…the Russians…I guess you’re crazy if you believe in the Russians.

JUDGE

When you were 25 years old, were you diagnosed with a mental illness?

JONAH

Yes. It wasn’t true.

JUDGE

What was the false diagnosis?

JONAH

Schizophrenia, paranoid type, it was a lie…they…they had a Russian doctor there!

JUDGE

You’re a diagnosed, paranoid schizophrenic, and you’re telling us someone was following you?

DEFENSE

Objection!

BARBARA. Now he’s acting nuts…what’s schizophrenia again?

MARIA. Well, there are many tyyyyypes of schizophrenia but people sometimes believe it involves multiple personalities.

A common misconception about schizophrenia but it’s more related to her…that’s what I am referring to, since I heard that, and I’m not sure…what she was diagnosed with as I heard a bunch of terms, and I wondered if she was even diagnosed correctly.

BARBARA. Sounds like me.

MARIA. What multiple personalities?

BARBARA. (chewing Chobani) Yeah.

MARIA. (laughter) Barbara…what is up with this sleeping bag on your bed?

BARBARA. Oh, when I don’t feel like making the bed. I just sleep in the bag. I used to bring this over to people’s houses so they wouldn’t have to make the bed.

MARIA. No!

BARBARA. Yeah!

JONAH

I’m still here, I’m still here!

BARBARA. Now he’s crazy…

JONAH

I know what’s going on!

BARBARA. I think paranoia is very helpful. There’s something right about paranoia.

MARIA. Why?

BARBARA. (changes channels) Because if you feel something is weird, sometimes it is.

(BREAK TO COMMERCIAL)

COMMERICAL

Hi I’m Taylor…

BARBARA. Now who is this?

COMMERCIAL

…And I have to show you a true beauty innovation.

BARBARA. Oh, I know…

COMMERCIAL

Three-second LASH.

BARBARA. (Changes channels, scratches her brow) I did it, but I didn’t want to take the time…

COMMERCIAL

(female duet country song)

“Ohhhh you want me to help you…”

BARBARA. (Changes channels) K.

COMMERCIAL

These pieces…that you can use them…

BARBARA. (Changes channels) No.

COMMERCIAL

I’ll have one of these nuts…

BARBARA. I do like this.

TV SHOW

What about Teddy…

BARBARA. Talk about crazy…

MARIA. Charlie Sheen?

TV SHOW

As I said, Teddy is fine but there are some areas in which he doesn’t measure up…to Hugo…

BARBARA. (Changes channels) Ha.

MARIA. Ha.

MARIA. Look at that dapper George Carlin!

BARBARA. (Changes channels) I don’t know him.

MARIA. Wait! Stop!

GEORGE CARLIN

Due to the fact I work most of the time at night, I get to see a lot of daytime television. And for the sake of you guys in the audience who are at the office all day long, I’d like to give you a little example of what takes place on your TV set in the afternoon. We’ll start with the newscast.

(Pop sound)

GEORGE CARLIN

(Newscaster)

Russian and the United States are at war. Missiles have been fired on both sides. Washington and Moscow are in flames. Details on these, and other stories, in just a moment…

MARIA. (laughter)

BARBARA. (Changes channels) I know…

COMMERCIAL

If your moderate to severe Ulcerative Colitis or Cron symptoms… are holding you back…

BARBARA. Oh no…

COMMERCIAL

…if you’re current treatment hasn’t worked well enough…

BARBARA. Oh, what is this?

COMMERCIAL

…it may be time for a change…Ask your doctor about Antivia, the only…

BARBARA. I don’t want to buy any of these drugs…I hate those.

COMMERCIAL

…works at the sight of inflammation in the GI tract…

MARIA. I get that.

BARBARA (scratching her brow) But you have to deal with it…

MARIA. Do you deal with it?

COMMERCIAL

…May increase risk of infection, which can be serious, PML, or greater serious potential fatal brain infection…

BARBARA. Well, they helped me a lot too…the anti-depressants. It did.

MARIA. How long have you been on them?

BARBARA. Too long, but they really should take you off of it.

MARIA. I agree.

(To interrupt, that’s a big deal for her. Talking about it, at all. And I can’t tell you how hard it is even for me, to go through these lines, sometimes, because it was so intense, I think, but there’s no shame in it, obviously, except, that’s not entirely true, for her, for the world outside…)

COMMERCIAL

It’s gotta be Tide.

BARBARA. They don’t give you enough time to know, to let you get off them, or to take them away very, very slowly if you’re in a good position where you’re steady…I’m never steady here (laughs)… I don’t have a life here, so.

(Why is that funny? “I don’t have a life here, so…” classic Harris, I think, where she’s vulnerable, that’s it, she has a trait. She’s sincere.)

COMMERCIAL

Termites?

MARIA. And you don’t want to move?

BARBARA. I wouldn’t mind, I just don’t know where I’d go. I have such a beautiful apartment. I would hate to go back to New York and live on the fifth floor, in one closet, for 10,000 dollars a month, I don’t know.

 COMMERCIAL

Nothing but hard work….you’re closer to the farm than you think…

MARIA. (pointing) I like what you have written over there. "Confidence comes from belonging.”

BARBARA. It does, I think so. I really do. I think that makes sense.

COMMERCIAL

Hi, this is Jonathan. I’m Karen. I’m Lisa. Looking for a real relationship?

I’m looking for a woman who is trusting, funny, and kind.

BARBARA. Mmkay. I’ll come with the dog.

I wondered, just because there was an inherent intuitive brilliance to how these days ended up structuring themselves, if she felt that way, if she felt like she couldn’t really hide, or she didn’t know why things came up, despite herself. I came to the conclusion that “boundaries” was a basic problem to work out, as they extend beyond relating, but also how the world feels… we’re watching a TV show about a mentally ill person… and I’m watching her put Chobani into her mouth, watching this, as the writer, I’m supposed to make a thoughtful comment about that, when it sort of speaks for itself. We do reveal ourselves, despite ourselves, though she’s doing most of it, because she is the person I’m respectfully, even, writing about. But “confidence comes from belonging,” what a mysterious phrase to me. Her life sentence. I asked her what gave her the confidence to do it, as I couldn’t, which was couched in the question, but it came from a sincere place. Belonging. Okay…? I didn’t even know what “belonging” meant, and I didn’t think of looking it up. I’m not saying it like, “aw, yeah totally,” I’m feeling something, but I don’t know what that is. And the perfect conclusion, “blackout.” You can almost hear it. “I’ll come with the dog.” She was very very funny.

In theory, it’s easy to open up, and she’s expected to as a public figure, but I’m not certain if she even anticipated her own response, you see, as she had a mental illness, and it’s so annoying, because it’s seen, not seen. She’s not going to respond well, necessarily. I don’t even feel comfortable being in the SPOTLIGHT by proxy, and I didn’t grow up with a mental illness, but I had a story I couldn’t talk about. The public eye wasn’t that comfortable for me, being seen as…interesting? Having done a good job? I don’t know. I just sort of got here, to be vulnerable, as I had family problems to work out. So I’m getting used to it. I hope this does well, I hope I do well, but that wasn’t easy for me given WHERE I came from, and HOW my story might be received in the public eye. Have you ever felt naked on the inside? I have. Exposed? Kinda, that’s how my family story made me feel. I don’t know what to say about Harris factually, as there’s a real difference between interpretation and FACT, but I can imagine that her “mental illness” would have made fame and praise— a hard idea in her body, even, perhaps. I’m just trying to be sensitive to it…now watching some mentally ill man be misunderstood in a court of law.

SCENE SIX: Stargazing with Barbara on her porch

We stargazed every night, as I waited for my Uber, “the guy,” she called it. Except Day III, she wasn’t feeling well. She got a little drunk, the first night, as she had two glasses of wine, and I tried to get her into bed, but she bounced out of it, springy, and she wanted to sit with me. I wanted to stargaze, not talk though, so that’s what we started to do — stargaze. What a beautiful image, under stars, real stars, as I was with one, a real one, encased in the shadows of the evening. Her porch, because it was enclosed, created the illusion that we were in a mast sailing through the galaxy, another idea for a play, and a good one, or at the auditorium at the planetarium in funny clothes with coolers, maybe a funny Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, but Scottsdale. She played the least likely to become a star, which I thought was so moving. In On a Clear Day You Can See Forever, she’s a bumbling awkward Daisy Gamble who harbors secret, mysterious gifts, like she can make flowers grow with her voice. In Nashville, she’s the hopeful that’s the least star-like. She had somewhere to go, as a character actress, so there’s a practical reason behind it, but she was someone who struggled with mental health, literally speaking, her whole life, and her family, and she was one of the biggest stars if not one of the most respected actresses, if I heard that correctly? I knew a girl in high school who had mental health struggles her whole life, and if she suddenly became seen as a genius, a comic genius, which she was, also, she would have had a freak out, probably. I would have been the one she would have called, and she might have even tried to semi-attack me. Literally. She would have flipped out. But, the response is the same, “you’re so much more than you think you are….” and “DUDE,” she would have said, “dude,” isn’t that a moving message for us all? Thinking about improv, and what it unleashed in so many. So we spent out time in oceanic parking lots as dry as a bone that became the universe at night. Her condo looked over a monstrosity. It so perfectly captured her mystery. We didn’t have to talk. We could take it slow. We were on the edge of life and death, but I didn’t really know… not until the end.

I thought about it, more so as a sacred time than one to shy away from, as she’s going to reveal how sick she is in a totally unusual way, in a scene that could have gotten her an Academy Award nomination, for the CHOICES she’s making. They are unusual, as we were about to find out how sick she was. Pink and haunting, that’s what Mike Nichols and Austin Pendleton said. “She’s pink,” Nichols said, “but she’s sort of haunting,” and Pendleton was so sensual, he was, in how he put his body into the fluidness of her, “haunted,” even. I captured the last snapshot of an extraordinary actress.

I told her that it takes 100 years for the stars to reach us, like we’re looking at the past, and she wondered where we were in that timeline? I didn’t know. Connection.

I don’t know what to say about life after death, so I’ll end here, because I had a truly mysterious experience with her… though, I became psychic to a bunch of people this past decade… looking — hm, around, like I don’t know what to say to that. So we both had to put up with supernatural talk, you see, because of our backgrounds. It’s interesting in thinking about improv, what we can pick up on, but we might not be totally correct.

Her work, her, I don’t know, she really supported me, I felt it very deeply, in getting here, in navigating through the worst moment of my life. I don’t know what to say about her “fragility,” since everyone seems to concentrate on that trait of hers as being the most remarkable. I thought vulnerability on Instagram was a sign of courage, or strength. You see? How confusing this is? My impression was that she was strong. I’ve had my moments, you know, as someone who could get affected, sensitive, knocked off, even, by other people, sure. It’s a bit of a stinging sensation. But, what can I say? I worked through most of that, and I tried to see it as a gift, actually, as she made me think about vulnerability that way. In my personal life, though, I sort of said bye. You be sensitive. Me? No. I say that as a four year old who was in a sex scandal. Talk about embarassing. People in my life ACTING like it’s not true. That took my whole life thus far to get to as a clear sentence. So, again, I was happy to put myself slightly ahead of her, so that her mental health issues would… diminish in a way. Not to downplay her experience but rather to support her. I came from a sex scandal. Now… let’s… think about what mentally ill really means. She was, I think. I think she would relate to that statement. Is there anything wrong with it? I mean, to me, mental health is the Seinfield statement of our times: not like there’s anything wrong with it. No, not at all. And was she? She was quite young, you know, when she was diagnosed. Did she always have to be? No, not in theory.

Like, today, I would have so many ideas for her in terms of body work she could do, to help her manage her energy, as she had a relentless, inextinguishable amount of energy. For how sick she was, cancer everywhere, that was remarkable. I do cranial sacral therapy, a godsend. There’s a lot out there that wasn’t available, I don’t think, at her time. I’m not ill though. Listen to this, I was sitting with a friend, and she felt sitting in front of me that Barbara Harris was sexually abused as a child, “whoa,” as that question is in my story, not hers. Another one of these “psychic” types I keep meeting out there. I didn’t understand this thought, but trauma and mental health get mixed up, like, one incites more care than the other, and it’s exhausting.

Her circle was open about it. She wasn’t publically, but her friends knew. They did much more than just “mention it,” to refer to her last remaining relative. “You couldn’t talk about her without talking about that.” And what am I mentioning? Was she diagnosed correctly? On the right meds? These are my questions. Evidently, there was a LOT OF SHAME in it for her family. Hearing this statement, “she got it the worst,” I have Murray Bowen, prominent if not premier psychiatrist in the field of family therapy up to bat — to break down family dynamics for us all. It’s time to clarify this, as I came from mentally ill parents. That didn’t sound that fair, did it? But family isn’t always fair. That’s all I have to say, about that, thinking about Forrest Gump. I wasn’t below average, but I could play someone below average, also.

That’s one these moments where Harris pops up in my mind, laughing. Her laughter healed me. Really. I went through a terrible terrible time, to speak personally a minute, as writing about my family woke me up to what happened back there, and I had no idea what happened, but I was also thinking out loud, in a sense, at that time, and she would laugh, appear in my mind, laughing at the things I was thinking about, and it healed me, it really did. Her laughter through me really helped me, I don’t know how else to put that. I ended up deciding to try performing again, so that’s what I’m doing. And who cares? You know? I’m sorry I have to laugh. I had all these strange fears… about being seen…as someone who wanted to do that… I just hate agendas. Please, leave me alone. I was in a sex scandal. We do have sides…

Anyway, we’re in the inky shadows, preferring not to be seen, stargazing. I was surprised, myself, how hard it was for me, conceptually, wanting to succeed in the world. Just putting myself out there, for real. I went through a harrowing time around it, angry because I hated how my world felt unsupportive, at times, ignored “sex scandal,” acted like having a mental health crisis, even, even if it hadn’t been related to trauma, was a walk in the park or unreal. To be frank with you, yeah, I would have appreciate FLOWERS, get better, well, that sort of thing since CARE would be the issue here. That’s something to keep in mind.

I decided I really wanted to see how far I could go… give myself a real chance. So that’s where I am, personally, loving this special time that we spent, for its flaws, its humanity, as we’re two people who came together and, I think, something magical happened, just picturing the way she plopped down on some used couch, some staged living room set, green 70s floral, and started opening up about fame. We went from Nashville appearing in the atmosphere at AJs, truly, as he sort up appeared, down aisle five, and I didn’t know why. Then, she mentioned it. We reviewed the song she sang as the fame hopeful as the woman who didn’t want it, and now we plopped down on a couch and she was opening up.

She needed to sit because we were walking around for hours at AJs, even if she’s not letting that on, but she’s opening up about fame with a price tag behind her in yellow. People perusing… I’m sitting in the recliner, complete with a side table, lamp, fake crystal, black wood. Sitting there, I said something I always wanted to say… “I do not know anything about fame.” With “I don’t know” eyes, which are very true eyes on me, “I do not know. I do not know if you’re supposed to like it, not like it, nothing.” Go ahead, I have no idea, truly. And of course, I’m combing through her speech, not remembering what I don’t need to, because she might veer around, she might say things she doesn’t actually mean, also, because how does she really feel about things? Did anyone ask her? So, sure, she might splatter around, she might have run into some gender crap, inequality, she might be turning around sharp discomfort, so I am not attaching to anything she’s saying, you see, this is who I am. “I do not know you,” fundmentally, always. In a sense. You can change your mind. We can take it slow. ““I can’t imagine that one might like all of it, no? Was I saying something radical? You see? This is where I do not know, because I do not pretend to know what everyone is doing, how they do it, and what’s radical to them. This is just, me, interacting with this person. So we had this conversation, she decided to open up out of nowhere on a staged living room set. I don’t know how deeply that resonates, it might resonate more for those who are famous, I don’t know, you see, because I am not famous. And did it have to be that way? It’s fine, she has negative feelings, but there’s nothing wrong with them, first of all, but what I do know, in my heart of hearts, is that evolution is available to everybody. So, those could evolve, let’s say, to reflect on her psychology and the subject itself. It’s fine. These do not need to be corrected, reframed permaturely, these are deep places of experience, there’s a lot in them, and I do not embody regret, meaning, she couldn’t have been a much bigger star than she chose to be. She seemed to leave a lasting impression. This conversation, of course, was — not hard to follow, exactly, but disjointed, but I don’t know if I would call it that, only because there was nothing wrong with her, that’s my final point. Now, for some that might change their life as an idea. Big. Big feelings. That takes time. You can’t just BLAST someone’s world to pieces, as some jerk did to me. Time. Safety first and room, yeah. We looked at tchotchkes. Safety.

Then, we walked over to Two Sisters consignment on the edge of a goddamn oceaning parking lot, the Pacific all dried up like an omen: shopping in the desert. We walk into the store, and almost immediately, what? My face, what is this? This sales clerk… I don’t know, too, fundamentally, you see, so I’m puzzled, honestly. She starts talking to her… uh huh, I’m thinking. She looked over at me, “did you know she used to be a big star?” I was confused, this is Barbara Harris, she still has her prestigious awards. I had no idea what to do, say “yeah totally?” But then, I thought, maybe I shouldn’t care, I don’t know. We had white shirts to peruse and shoes to investigate. We went our separate ways. Barbara Harris looked through racks. I tried many many things on…I would walk out, from time to time, she’d be looking at the shoes, having called a friend in there in the meantime, sending pictures to him, “should I get this?” I walked out in a vermillion dress, and she beamed at me that I had to get it. Really? I did. She liked it. It was a bit different than what I normally got, and she thought I was rather pretty, actually, she couldn’t get over my hair, my body, it was sweet. She was a sweet person. I don’t know why certain traits get more encouraged than others, I don’t know. She had range, as a person, that seemed to be very true, and it didn’t bother me, really. I suppose there were very scary places, but sometimes you just let a little light in, I think, because fear is tough, as she evidently went through tough states? I just care so much about the subject, and it hurt me how people can’t care like that. So she went through some scary places, too, I think. I suppose I did too, though I wasn’t aware of that, I don’t know, since I went through a revelatory experience, or mental health event, regardless if it was revelatory, it was a break down, structurally, so I went through a world end. I successfully recovered from it, and I had to embrace change very deeply, but not regrettably, though I went through that phase, not about the event, but the understandings that came after it, like, nothing had to go in the way that it did. The choices I made, I struggled with those, the choices I made not knowing what was driving them. I went through that phase. I’m more of a proponent of allowing instead of correcting, but I keep a grip, some grip on the current that wants you to heal, be happy about what’s next, rather than getting stuck. She might have had to have gone through a kind of world end, meaning, dismantle what she learned, but that’s step by step, just because you want to remain calm, that’s basically it. Sure sure, I’m sure she was sick, I’m sure she had problems, I’m sure all of that is true, I’m sure her family was right, I’m sure they were wrong, she was wrong, acted inappropriately? And? You can move on, too, which is a fair statement to make. I think healing is available to everyone, as an idea, and why limit the possiblities there?

Anyway, I’m going on a tangent, but she was a remarkable psychology to have engaged with, I meant that, I couldn’t believe what I was reading, how people were talking about her… like, people told me that she could have contributed to the field of psychology, for real. That’s what people told me. “This isn’t Daniel Day Lewis, this is Barbara Harris, she’s not becoming the role, she’s becoming someone else…” That’s an unbelievable statement. Is this happening to her, is she doing it? Okay, I would say, it’s dangerous to suggest that she isn’t doing it, sure, she has “something going on,” to keep it vague and neutral, but she can make different choices. She can become aware of her experience and if she so chooses, go in a direction that’s going to feel better. You hopefully create space, the space for that to start to happen. I just felt, as not a professional psychologist, but someone who might have had an innate gift as someone who came from a particular background, that she was really remarkable, in fact, as Lerner felt she was. Her wrote On a Clear Day You Can See Forever for her.

Her psychology interested me the most, quite frankly. She was…an ayptical person who had a remarkable profile. Her states. I just get a bit fearful, myself, around these areas for the spaces it opens up in my mind. Like, it’s a little scary, you can operate differently as I cannot relate to her, so I rely on her experience and that provides a difference. Because, it’s true, I cannot relate to her, I didn’t grow up with “a mental illness,” but I had ill parents. I would never have wanted to have one, that had to be scary back then. I wanted to perhaps get to real conversations with her, let’s worry about what to write… in time… no rush. I would never betray her trust, that’s non·negotiable, and I mean what I say. It takes a lot of courage, yes, strength, to put yourself out there. That was her power, someone to be admired for it, maybe she would have calmed down about the press. I gathered, they might be a little weird to interact with? SI’ve seen the way they can ACT, yes. That probably could have been worked out. I could imagine she just needed a little understanding from an entity that pushes someone over an edge rather than back off.

I hope we learn what care is, I don’t know, that her profile will make us think, laugh, yes, also, and also not, sometimes. I’m remembering how, she had to go to the dentist, emergency, and that’s where I learned how sick she was. At the dentist, of all places. She drove into a parking lot, more like a small lake, this time, across the street from the greater ocean out there. She drove over the divide, the cement block that marks the top of the parking space, and into a field next to the parking lot. We drove in circles, literally, but I had to get her to the dentist, you see, but I can’t say, why are you avoiding this? And it was funny. I’m pointing to the SPOT, “there, right there, you see that, drive there.” “What?” “Drive there. Right there. There.” And through we went in her Honda Civic, Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, and she parked out front. It was, I haven’t told you HOW we got here yet: the photo shoot we did, the acting lesson in the parking lot. Every moment was a scene, and it was sort of brilliant. I can picture every actor on Earth responding emotionally to her giving me an acting lesson in a parking lot, it would be meaningful for actors, I know you, this is what it’s all about to Leonardo diCaprio, this I know. How? I do not know. But I feel that to be true as someone who studied acting.

She went to the dentist. I crossed the abyss, got a salad, came back, and she BURST back into the room, suddenly. I didn’t even hear her steps, and she BLURTS — even cutely — that there’s a mass in her jaw, bopping around. I had stood up in the dress she told me to buy and laughed, not meaning, to, “what?” I went to the window, met her there. “Excuse me?” I was upset, you cannot just leave a woman like that, throw information in her face like that without caring for her. “What? There’s a mass, and???? Now what? Do you have the number of a specialist?” She wrote it so tiny, on this business card with a number that didn’t even work, but wait, did she already know? I couldn’t read this dentist. When Harris was in her appointment, I approached the window, just a touch, it was the only time I did. “Does she come here?” She hadn’t been in, in a while, and when we skated briefly on the subject of her, she gave me — sort of direct but indirect communication, like, you know, well, she used to be a big star… look, lady, I didn’t say this, but she is Barbara Harris, she still has her awards, and also, she’s mentally ill, meaning she has… bigger fish to fry. Fish. To fry. It’s not related to that? I was confused here, again. People project. That’s for certain. But the third time, this was chilling, a little, the third time I reached for the handle of the car, as she always revealed something about her health, here, and together they told a story. “I am on a lot of anti depressants, look at the stars,” that was the first night, like, she shouldn’t have had that second glass, but I believe it would be alright. And now, “Maybe I have cancer all over…” she got there. She didn’t end there. I was trying to understand, out the door when she started trailing off about where her cancer was… I froze, hand hovering over that handle, aware. Okay, I’m going to open the door having received this information. And all this followed a delightful mad dash to get here, post the acting lesson in the middle of a parking lot, where we rushed into her house as she was unnecessarily flailing across the expanse… she could not be late!!

I had gotten to her condo early, as one does with a senior citizen, to give them room, so they have the time. I showed up in the dress she told me to get. The day before was a dark day, but she appeared to have recovered from that, and she even let me come over when she was in pain, and I sat underneath that note: confidence comes from belonging. We had had an honest conversation, about her wanting to have had kids, she wondered if I wanted kids. She came out the door at 10:45 AM beaming at me and the dress, and we had to do a photo shoot —now. Earlier that morning, as this time was really jampacked, she had erupted on me on the phone, as I was walking to Old Town Scottsdale to take in this place she lived in… she had freaked out. No problem. I thanked her because if I had known about her, that probably would have made a difference in my life. I truly appreciated her as an artist, just to let her know. I had to go, yes, I’d be there, at 11, to escort her to the dentist, but for now, I had to investigate someone wearing a Jean Michel Basquiat t-shirt at this juice bar. There were so many juice bars. But that Jean Michel Basquiat shirt was a conversation piece. It was art. I sat behind this blond. I did not see their face, because I do not need to know everything.

And so, she beamed at me in the dress, and we needed to do a photo shoot immediately, so the gaze was flipped, neither of us really knew it, though I did, she might have gotten sharp here, in spots, but that was fine too. In any case, in the end, a garbage truck pulled up behind her as she’s beginning to freak out, suddenly switch around, because the dentist! Shit. She flipped out that she was going to be late — and these garbage men began to slow down their action, they were mesmerized, by this mad dash across the expanse, her failing arms, the cacti all around her in frozen states of throwing their arms around. I grabbed the white carpet, the piece of white carpet off the arm of a maitre-d cactus, as I had annoyed the shit out of her, because “why are you posing like that?” I followed her up the steps, not matching her at all, no reason. We’re 100% going to be early. But I had no problem with her chaos. I found his address, we were fifteen minutes away, she delightfully if not spritely twinkled to the bathroom to put on some make-up, this is what I mean. She’s pink and haunting. She’s putting on rouge, in a rush, “don’t lose your slut…” I leaned at the threshold. “Or else?” “You’ll just be another nut…” and she — back in the action — she’s — getting to the dentist, in this rush, which I do not need to match. She miraculously, even, managed to disappear and reappear a little too far away to be actually possible. I blinked, I was shocked, even, she was in her kitchen, the fridge closed, holding an iced coffee with berries in it? Maybe the fridge wasn’t closed, but I think it was. I was touched, “you made me something?” She pivoted her torso, shrugged, she did, “you’ll starve!” She handed it to me, I stood there, and I gave her the floor as the sun was rising to high noon, as the appointment was in the late morning, and it cast her living room in a golden hue, desert, warm, illuminating her little pot of magenta flowers, purple, and she’s in a delightful chaos. I thought this was fun, and amazingly, she just dropped it at the door. I had given her the floor. She had mentioned The Apple Tree somewhere in there.

When she brought something up, I tended to take a step, but just one. So I crossed the living room, in my own time, as I was communicating, for sure, that we did not have to rush, she was going to be on time. But she had dropped it, just like that. I had to, uh, put on my shoes. I sat down with a real glass of iced coffee in my hand that I’m going to have to carry out of the door with me, and I felt naked… that was alright. Maybe she wanted to thank me or apologize. She was vulnerable, I felt that way in that moment, wondering later, did you set me up to be funny? Putting the glass down. That’s sweet. A shaft of light between us, dust floating there, I wondered if she wrote that monologue in Harry Kellerman, but I don’t know in which order I asked these two questions because I pursued a question when she initiated the conversation. She had mentioned The Apple Tree, so I don’t know if I dropped my focus, meaning I asked her something before she brought it up, so I forget here. However, as a story, I think this order is better, that. “Did she write that monologue?” It sounded like she did. But, apparently, she could really make you feel that she was making the lines up as she went along. However, it sounded like she wrote it, and it’s an Academy nominated monologue, so. She said, her figure covered in sunspots, that she didn’t. She did. Found out later. I could understand why she said that as she was part of a project, I don’t know. This moment, when I recall it, always feels so expansive, as if so much happened in this fantastic spilling out across her house. I don’t know why. I tried, you know, to do her voice in the Apple Tree, I said, “how did she do that?” I realized later, as I was experimenting with “I didn’t know,” as my approach, I only talked about the music, didn’t I? Those were always my questions, so I knew, you see, that I would reveal myself due to the choice I made, and I didn’t know it.

I sung to her day one because it was the first time I had sung in fifteen years — we had just met, and she was already nervous and apprehensive about doing this. So, at some mall oasis at sunset, I just sang a line, nothing disrespectful—”getting to know you.” I revealed myself first, made a vulnerable move, thinking about her art, of course, that’s what she became known for: her stunning vulnerability.. She beamed at me, “you must sing” in the middle of a parking lot, just met me. “I was always shy about it,” I admitted, and that was the first time I ever did, but I didn’t have to say that. I revealed myself in scene. She could relate to that. Right. I tried to lead with my own vulnerability, for real, since that was the subject at hand: her art. It’s an unusual choice, admired, sort of. Oh, I always wanted to know about the music, I realized that later. I suppose I really did care about that. Did I know that? No. She so cutely, she shrugged, “I just put on a funny voice. You try.” Through my nose, I suggested it, a little, because that number from the Apple Tree, “Oh to Be a Glamorous Movie Star,” it’s a museum piece that you respect. But—my shoes on, I sort of knew it too, like we have a show to do, something. Barbara turned on—back in the action. I had my iced coffee in hand, and Barbara went bopping down the steps in a state of urgency. I didn’t. I also could move faster than she could, so — I just followed her down the steps. Easy breezy. You can make different choices. Into the CIVIC taking up two parking spaces at a true oblique angle, the most perfect example of an oblique I had ever seen. I had even told her, it was amazing. “This is an oblique,” I said it. “This is the most perfect oblique I have ever seen.” She was math.

She recounted her date with Marlon Brando, told me she believed in me, which sounded strange. When I reopened these years, that finally landed, “was she being serious?” And, in rereading all this, I discovered perhaps another layer, why she was peering at me during this photo shoot. Anyway, she and Brando spent date inventing tea kettles that don’t drip. “Was that an interesting convo?” I meant it. Well, honestly, she put her head into my honest response, “it was the best he could do at the time, best I could do…” we drove between gigantic parking lots, she told me about how she ended up being a seamtress in a theater around here, like she wanted to be involved but she didn’t want to be seen, or be a star, like her comment back on the couch, about thinking small, not big, which is hilarious in the world today that says only — dream big. She moved to Scottsdale, she revealed, because her psychologist lost his license so he came here, and she followed him… he became a postal worker. Right there, he was not the right psychologist. She tried, she tried to get herself support. I definitely know, unfortunately, that you can get bad therapy, not the right kind, so that might not have supported her at all, clearly. I didn’t ask her additional questions. I didn’t think I needed to because we were just hanging out. Maybe we’d just concentrate on her career. I didn’t think I would tackle her psychology, a bit.

I thank Hannah Arendt for her nuturing since her work did. Nurture me.

She was almost like a mother to me, and I appreciated it, she nurtured my mind, actually, she made me feel like that was the most interesting part about me, not my looks, a strange arena in my case. She would have, most likely, been interested in my case, like she would have read every single page of my mess… of that first draft that woke me up to my childhood, she would have followed me so closely, thinking about my family story. She might have actually given it the time of day. That helped me, beacuse I felt like my mind was seen by her, like she could penetrate the mess, the confusion, with her understanding of the public/private sphere, wondering what a family story like that, even intriguing to her, perhaps, would produce… in a world that will not see it. Impossible, even, to her, with a bit of gravitas, attached as she was big feeler, I think. Due to the element of sex. Regardless, there was sexual dysfunction in my family. And she wasn’t afraid of anything. I suppose, when you know the Nazis are very real, not a story, as time passes, not to say there aren’t examples of it, let’s say, KKK, real danger in that way, I imagine that it clarifies a lot as to what’s really frightening. I thought about a lot, the value of respecting differences over relating. I relied on that difference. I needed it. So that’s a supportive tool, idea. I relied on her genius mind, because my story was such a mess, on my end, and I would go through sharp fear spells, so I went through fear very young, I think, I knew not fear at four, that wasn’t me, but I also got wrapped up in fake psychologists, as well. I would remind myself, out the window, I do not live in a Totalitarian regime. Time to calm down. No one is busting down the door. I was so terrified of my mother, but, I could almost picture Arendt — that was ridiculous. I had a rea dialogue with her in my mind, because I couldn’t even look her up. I ordered her book, the book my mother wrote on taxes, I began to face her, “who was this woman?” That took time, so she inspired me to do that, and ended up influencing this idea involving Barbara Harris particularly around her relationship to the public sphere given her mental illness/sci-fi conundrum.

That’s where I ended up. I got involved with people who believed I was psychic to a laughable pitch. And, thinking about Arendt, we came from “otherworldly backgrounds” that inspired talk of “other dimensions,” even, when it just felt like a game void of any real utility or respect. In her case, she was onstage, so she brimmed over with superstar talent. I got, strangely, some of that without needing to provide any real evidence. We could relate, as I said, at thoughtprovoking angles. I didn’t have a mental illness—not like there’s anything wrong with that — but I know your family can make you ill, for sure. “She got it the worst.” That statement from her last remaining relative says a lot. But none of these people making these claims are crazy, or mentally ill, and sometimes I can’t keep up, I just can’t, with the different states of mental health.

I wouldn’t have been able to begin writing a book about Barbara Harris without Arendt, due to the psychological component, and she was stunningly brilliant at it. What she did in Rahel Varnhagen was absolutely genius. And she’s chill, you see, no issues, not like that. My mother was a “genius,” and I had this one article written about Dr. Joyce Rebhun, my mother, in Neiman Marcus magazine, next to all her books, Life of the Mind, etc. She was a genius, and she wasn’t insane. She was even attractive, I know, being attractive if not quite the same as being beautiful, so I appreciated her, as a presence, because I was attractive. I was in a reading group, and without fail, someone would mention that she was attractive. I got the sense that she knew that, actually. So that was tough for me. Confusing. Harris doesn’t care if she’s not being spoken about.

She would rather other people be spoken about. That’s funny. As my thoughts matured, over the years, and it took years, even if she was dead, I do not care, Harris is sort of still there, so I had, an admittedly even funny mysterious experience where I’m feeling thoughts of mine being received, I have to laugh. People do believe in life after death. I just can’t go there, personally, I stay present and grounded in the concrete world. But I sensed this material continuing to open up, so I kept taking it step by step, as it wasn’t always comfortable sensationally, especially around these issues, but they impacted me personally. She was mysterious, the night sky above us, she was even classical, full of poetry, humor, heart, distaste. She was a true artist, in that, the scenes became artfull, full of dimension, possiblity, like this night sky full of stars. Where we return on the last exhale. Back to where we came from, truly belong, the stars, the cosmic verse. That’s her, a true actress, capable of reciting monologues with that scope, and inspiring you, somehow, which actors do. They inspire people. That’s basically what it looked like. I have an active imagination, but that’s what it is. So I was going to have to rise to the occassion, and that sounded like an adventure, and it wasn’t always easy. Just writing, it turned out to not be the easiest exercise for me, which she might have appreciated. She was creative writing, maybe not an article, though I could do that too, evidently, but I had to go on that journey. I saw a vague sparkle out there, I had no idea what it was… Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure with one of the greatest actresses, really, and it was a pleasure to spend time in her presence. “Things happens around you, they turn into art…” I believe I was pretty transparent about it. “This is an oblique,” I meant it, that was not a joke.

And if this time turns out to be deeply important, lol, revolutionary, life changing, the story about acting itself, if my idea for a Barbara Harris version of “Where’s Waldo” series takes off, because it could, but it would be his cousin, you see, Barbara Harris. So be it. She can become other people, so you’d have to picture turning the pages to a slightly more artful illustration, as she was high art, funny enough, and she’d be handing out hotdogs over there…she’d be playing a beatnik over there…looking over someone’s shoulder in a blond wig, heartwarming. She could blend in but couldn’t help sticking out. As On a Clear Day attests to, she could inspire a storybook like that, because you cared about her. She just became different people, according to most people I spoke with, except the actors, I have to be honest. She was an extraordinary actress who came from “a tradition,” who didn’t always like to rehearse, who had an acting coach, William Daniels, for some productions, with a tight-lipped persona, so what her process was, I don’t know, but I did speak to someone who took an acting class with her. I would have to speak to more people, obviously, but I really wanted to hear about that since she was…one of the greatest, I heard? Her former student said, also sort of a fan, friend that she was all about the emotional throughline, so that was her guide.

We conducted this hilarious photoshoot where she snagged some technie trying to get to lunch, not expecting to get roped into a professional shoot outside the cultural center—and the beauty of being in a universe, under stars, is that, all these apparitions, these people who popped up were stars. This man, this technie in a costume, yes, checkered shirt, the phone kept dropping in his hand as he didn’t know how to get out of this. I was laughing so hard. Harris didn’t break her steel director persona. “Why is she laughing?” She asked him, but not looking at him, as she was stationed a little in front of him. By the time he, “um,” finally interjected, we had moved to the potted plants. She turned to him suddenly as if she had forgotten he was even there. Just a great moment, with pictures of me laughing so hard. Then, she turned, and a large insect of an innocent man just walking to his scooter… crossed the expanse somewhere out there. “Should we get you on the scooter?” She threw me into the parking lot, like you gotta just throw yourself out there. “It’s hard to get you to focus.” I thought she would see right through me, which she did, and I thought, that’s true. I did not get defensive. Instead I allowed her to. She changed states, thrillingly. She pinned me down, her stare, not at all bopping around, she was fierce. She threw around her fingers, she wanted me to count all the red cars, everything red, and she approached me and demanded that I count every palm in that tree up there. If I didn’t, she’d kill me, and she made me feel, and it stunned me, even. She made me really feel, that she would kill me. She walked away. That was impressive, I thought. Wow. Okay, here we go, I’m counting palms. We came back together, crossed a planet, it felt, truly, even if she wasn’t that far away. She could admit that she felt like she was a good teacher, so maybe she needed to feel like she was giving her talent away, or something. I just don’t see any problem with it. She wanted to get back into it, even, and I said, sure, I’d be there, for sure, in your living room? Sure. I’d be there. I wasn’t even an actor anymore, but I would do that. Then, the garbage truck. Time to switch states again. I don’t know what to say about how blurry the lines were between life and stage for her, but that relationship exists internally, meaning, you, societal you, who you put on to go to work… as “all of life is stage, and we are merely players,” that refers to society, if anyone cares to know. It’s pretty straightforward there, beautifully expressed, and it’s often, simple, somehow.

I really was quite inspired by her, it was an interesting headspace, as she was inspiring: a big — star. She was a big big star out there, and it was just a corner in the universe, and I was someone, just someone, and I told people, “these four days sort of felt like…art?” I asked her circle, because I wondered what they would say to that statement? No one expressed surprise. Really? Only because the most unbelievable phrases circled her person, genius, channeling DAEMONS, practically, becoming someone else, inspiring musicals about psychics, even, funny psychics, you know what I mean? On a clear day you can see forever…. under a clear blue sky over a sunspot in the middle of the desert… so that means, by relating to her, simply, I, too, could become art? Now that, now that’s quite a gift, don’t you think? Worthy of just going to meet? Who gives a shit about the illness, do you know what I mean? I came from a different time. Alas, only four days, I’m not one for sentiment, so, that’s alright, and I was over the moon to reconnect with what I loved, too, and I didn’t know that, myself. This would be where you’d play “Tenderness” from Clueless. That’s the out song, the graphic boxes, colorful, that we’re “popping out” of on some interactive movie poster.

It began with Donny Osmond, blasting from a bar at the mall designed to evoke an oasis in the middle of the desert, and that layer hovered there, the commercialism, the new basic need: shop. I can’t explain it, but there was loneliness in it, I feel it in my heart, that a couple of vulnerable people, for different reasons, connected with one another to evaluate a particular type of exchange that can make actors touchy, come on, I know that. “Like a shot in the dark, I’m Soldier of Love,” that’s how we began. Getting to know you, in a parking lot. And now, she’s throwing me out into the parking lot, on “Tenderness,” that was the effect she had. A journalist had “a thought event,” an Arendtian phrase, when he was taking her in during On a Clear Day. Something about being in a crowd of female clowns as the remarkable one because a pale rain cloud hangs over everything she does. She is funny, but it hurts to laugh. Alan Jay Lerner followed up that thought, she quoted him. “You care about her.” That’s it, he summed it up… he penetrated the imagery and answered succinctly. It made me laugh, it did. You cared about her… how confusing for people, but the real joke was that she was mentally ill and no one knew it but they did, and classically people don’t care. She dealt with depression, too, but I don’t know how to interpret that thought.

I don’t know what to say, she seemed to have a particular chemistry, but that isn’t exclusively in her brain, that’s an archaic and detrimental understanding of chemicals, where they are, as these relationships in the body are chemical, there’s chemicals in every thing. We’re made up of bonds, connections, there’s not a moment that we aren’t connecting. I kept thinking about the Sonoran, the desert, if you look at it on a map, it looks like it sparked into two flames, that they spread, like a mythology, Gods, into Arizona, and one roared to California, leaked down into baja, to the end, and one stuck around Scottsdale with quite a reach, and it turned out to be the lushest desert of them all, in a state of blooming in the spring, which is when I met her. This story was about connection, and I ended up connecting to the earth and stars, root and heaven, I guess, as it really started there, here, Earth. You cared about her. Remember that? When you cared? About the Earth? Reality happens between us. Now that tbought changed my life, saved my life, whereas “you create your own reality” almost killed me. So, I’m with her. Confidence does come from belonging, her Arendtian life statement, because I had confidence issues that were masked, and yet, she saw through me in a minute, and maybe I didn’t always make sense, either, even to her. Why isn’t she an actress? That’s what she thought I was, which she decided somewhere in there, she told me she believed in me, but it was couched. I do think she was a sincere person who wasn’t totally understood. She said she felt that way, our first conversation. I began by telling her I studied clown, a little. She said that she related to that. “What does that mean?”

“Misunderstood.”

Confidence comes from belong, I tried to follow that, I did, so it was like a star somewhere out there. To me, psychology concerns itself with building, establishing a goal. I said that, more like a friend to people who were dealing with real shit, to be frank. One was a refugee who had been abused by two members of her family, and the other was a Russian thief. I interjected ethically, to get her to a therapist. There’s a goal, so you can get there, in other words, he could stop and she could tell her mother. Even I, imagine it, lost sight of it, speaking of losing touch, or having gone through a strange phase in my life that almost killed me, but it allowed me the chance to actually live my life, in fact, as I went through a world end, but I lost sight of what I knew… lost in a field of others… others with hierarchial patterning, constructs, who exhibited absolutism. There is an absolute truth, for example, “the one true religion,” same principle. Different form. Anyway, I, too, was vulnerable. If I’m being truly honest, a word you’re not supposed to use, it sucked to feel how vulnerable I was. I became “psychic,” this crap, got wrapped up in cultish type logic, and were these people mentally ill? Barbara Harris’ ponytail swinging around a tiger, “yeah.” I got offtrack, but I wanted to not let this go, this time, because I am honored to carry the last reflection of a truly original artist, a woman, comedian fundamentally, wrapped up in so much mystery. God has a sense of humor, so the meeting of comedy and mystery is even wise, and it was such a gift in her, and that’s coming from a mentally ill woman, so that’s even groundbreaking, inspiring, I mean, wow, so I admired her. Admired her courage. To not loose her slut, her spark, laughing at her… as she dashes away. “Or you’ll just be another nut.” Not bad.

So, this is just a blog post… I’m taking out my phone, not knowing how to use it, but there is an app, Harris, where you can hold it up, which I did not do, and it will tell you where the constellations are. Goodnight. From her porch. Stargazing with Barbara Harris, just gazing at stars in the sky, our eyes glistening in the night, made of the very same stuff, stars in the sky. A Native American healer, speaking of history, and a last goodbye, I interviewed her, and she said, “I am, too, a cosmic being. I too am made of stars.” Connection, stars, dirt. The catci, uh, on their own channel. Funny little creatures catci. The clowns of nature. And how cute, a baby owl face in a window that was perfectly cut into a square, like a single window for this owl. So cute. Hello? She was, I guess, very adorable. A little Taz, tazmanian devil, a little flustered, she could be, puttering around. She could putter her words and speak as if she were winded… she was pink, haunting, haunted, but I think someone with scope, and the unknown can be triggering, within ourselves, too. There are mysteries… that seems to be true…mysterious experiences, without the need to attach too much meaning to them, as that gets into trouble, I’m a fan of no forms, I am formless, I do not shape. I rest pure. I’m speaking about experience, of course, and I have to laugh while I say it, so she was inspiring, as a person. She had that effect. Good timing, perfect, always. She had it. Perfect timing. So, in a world in need of a little care, here is this time… that you can read about, and get affected by, I hope.