I had an interesting encounter with a celebrated Russian psychic healer yesterday.

Anatoly Kashpirovsky is a faith healer, psychic, and former Parliament member who is--or at one time was--all the rage in his homeland. He is not so famous here, but he goes on occasional tours and gives lectures and healings.

I am always curious about healers, and enjoy meeting them up close. I always hope I'll meet one who really resonates, and can help me with my hearing difficulties. In the meantime, if they can just zap me with some positive vibes and maybe get rid of this zit on my chin, I'm happy.

So I went to his lecture at the Holiday Inn on Herald Square. As I was coming from the bathroom to the conference room, I spotted Kashpirovsky--our eyes "met across the crowded room" as it were. He has intense laser-beam eyes and a really awful George Clooney haircut dyed pitch black. The intensity of his gaze made me pull away and go find a seat.

His lecture was about an hour long, all in Russian with an interpreter, whose accent was so thick that I couldn't understand her either. Some testimonials were given (thankfully by English-speakers), and then from the back of the room this bad techno music started blaring. I felt like I was on the Ricki Lake show.

He called a bunch of people up onstage to mesm-o-rize 'em, including me. In turn, he threw us all on the floor, where we were supposed to lie down and be whammied by his hypnotic powers. I didn't really feel anything...At one point my eyelids started fluttering wildly, but that's it.

When it was all over, I left quietly. I really wanted to be alone, and to eat...but that's kind of how I feel 24 hours a day.

Before I went to bed, my ears started pounding a bit, and I had a dream that I'd had a baby, and the umbilical cord (which was the consistency of Silly Putty) was still attached to me--from my earlobes to my navel. I kept trying to chew it off. Submerged as I was in my dream, I had the thought, "this is a significant dream..."

In movie news, I saw Iris today with my friend GeneClark. I don't know what to make of it, exactly. It is heart-wrenching because watching an old woman with Alzheimer's is heart-wrenching. And it is painful because watching an unbalanced relationship is painful. But I don't feel like I understand what the life of Iris Murdoch was. The acting is terrific, and there are some really lyrical moments in the swimmin' pond.

Speaking of British novelists, I'm not loving the Sarah Caudwell books. I finished The Sibyl in Her Grave, and started her first one, Thus Was Adonis Murdered, but they aren't singin' to me.

I'm making plans to record my next album!!!!! I am excited.