If My Life is a Joke, It’s Not That Funny.

May 30, 2000

I got an invitation in the mail today for afternoon tea with Senator and Mrs. Rockefeller. Also enclosed was the offer of an audience with Mrs. Secretary of State, Madeleine Albright, or Maddy, as we like to call her, featured keynote speaker at a Symposium called Women Pacesetters of the New Century. It’s an alumnae thing. You know, the old school ties. Actually I only went for lower and middle schools, but it still counts. Remind me to thank the Hearsts, the Duponts (that was high school), and the other benefactors of my unfinished education. All dear, kind people, really.

But now, onto the other facets of my charmed existence. My family? They are, by turns, unemployed, alcoholic, on or off welfare, and often ten paces too far down the next poor decision.

I however, live in Zurich, as I have for the past 9 months or so. That was after moving from Vienna, you know the politics there were so… unpleasant. We, my new husband and I, were there for 8 months. I have no children, no pets, nothing to do all day really, but keep house, which I do only begrudgingly and with great harrumphing. I’m also nearing 30, and for the first time, am conscious of my physical decline. Broadening hips, new crinkles, the usual.

I sometimes feel as if caught in a vise-grip of extremities. The constant worries and strains of too many and too few options are always with me. I find it all so exhausting.

I often think of myself as the genetically-manipulated spawn of Holly Golightly and maybe Grace Jones, I guess early immersion in Truman Capote and post-punk disco will do that to a person.