Last night I didn’t wake up six times, filled with dread, as I did the night before. Last night I took a sleeping pill and then I woke up at 6 something and Steve was already awake. He’s going to Spain this Sunday to present his project to the Spanish bank that will be funding it. The show is about flamenco in the 60’s and 70’s. He’s curating the project, which has the photographs of 15 different photographers (including his work) and two filmmakers. He has to give this big presentation on the 12th of December and he’s very nervous, as anyone would be. But this morning he yelled at our daughter (I understand his feelings, but it wasn’t even 7 am), and then got into an argument with me. Yesterday he tried to fix my BlackBerry when I asked him not to and he broke it. So today will be spent waiting for a new one to arrive and then countless hours will be spent making it work.

There’s an article in New York magazine this week about loneliness. One out two households in Manhattan are single people living alone. I would never have guessed that. I think that overall, in all the boroughs of NY it’s one in four.

I lived alone for eleven years in Los Angeles. Aside from various boyfriends I dated, mostly I lived alone. I remember feeling very lonely a good deal of the time, but after a few years of living in the Harper House in West Hollywood, my wonderful next door neighbor Susie (she was Mary and I was Rhoda) filled that void. At least once a day we would get together and talk, or share a meal, or go somewhere together. My two cats, Max and Annie also kept me company. I began running at a park in Beverly Hills every morning, seeing the same people and running with a group of them. I studied yoga for a few years at Bikram’s first studio. I found 12 step meetings. I was living on the west coast, my parents here on the east coast.

Life was definitely a bit lonely, but so much less complicated.

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