Self-Hypnosis (Warning: Don't Try This At Home)

I toyed with the idea of hypnotizing myself by following the "recipe" I read in an Anne Lamott book. Essentially, you just think about a colour, and then say aloud all of the associations (word and picture) that flow from your meditation on this hue. Eventually, you are in some kind of trance, and your own memories come bubbling up to the surfce, and you follow them backward in time to the very first memory you have. That memory is, in all likelihood, your "root" memory--the cause of all your trouble.

It seemed easy enough, but when I told Sarahbina about my plan, a decidedly dubious look crept to her face.

'I don't think that's such a good idea.'

I thought about it again, and was sure that I had oversimplified what hypnotizing myself would actually mean, so I decided to forego it. What if in my attempt to put myself "under" I slipped down Alice's rabbit hole into a perverse, bizarre world that reads like an LSD trip?

Tea For Two

I remember being about 7 and my mom teaching me the words to this song. I was obsessed with it, and sang it over and over again, much to her and my stepfather's chagrin, I'm sure. Courtesy of the In The Sun cd, it has been brought back to me. It's still a lovely song....it served as part of the backdrop of my walk yesterday... as I was standing in front of the abandoned jazz pub, Ms. Monheit sang "Me for you, and you for me alone...just tea for two and two for tea....oh, can't you see how happy we would be?"

Narrative Voice

So as not to lose my reading momentum, I am now consuming Paul Auster's autobiography Hand to Mouth. I am particularly intrigued by his refusal, as a young man, to "lead a double life" by having a 9-to-5. He made the decision that he was a writer, and would not do anything to finance that life, but would instead live that life. This was possible in part because he never minded being poor. Can I be frank? I want too many things to be the 'starving artist.' This is probably why it is taking me so long to get going. It would be easier if I could content myself to live in a cold water flat if I were out having adventures, could milk that whole 'kindness of strangers' notion, or were having regular sex with a man I loved. Not to be crass or anything, but life is a trade off.