Family Legends; Thing of Beauty #49-101
The other day, Cali (Midnight Toquer) left a comment saying that after she'd read the story about the day I went to Four Winds, she could understand why Buzz Kill didn't want me writing under my real name. I was a little surprised because I thought I had been kind to Buzz Kill in that story.
The reason Buzz Kill insisted on a clause in the divorce stipulating that I must write under a pseudonym - and that I couldn't publish anything ever until Velvet turned 18 - will be clear after reading this story here: The Jig is Up
I wrote this one a long, long time ago too. Back before Buzz Kill was Buzz Kill and before Velvet even had a nick name, although one could argue that Buzz Kill has been Buzz Kill since before the dawn of time. The Eternal Buzz Kill.
He's off to Hawaii next week to run in a mini-triathalon. He's gotten so good at these races of his that some foundation is paying his air fare since he's raised so much money for them by participating in these events. Imagine! I'm glad he's happy with his self in Spandex. Could be that this little story - which finally drove him out of the apartment. stomping down Central Park West home to his mother - shouting into his cell phone, "Once you go black, you never go back!"- Could be that this story started him on the road to self actualization.
Looking at this story today, it almost seems like the kind of race based remark pervasive in this country that has resulted in municipalities where it takes public pressure to convince the cops to take somebody like George Zimmerman into custody. I was reminded Matthew Shepard and James Byrd, Jr. Things like that make people afraid to have children in this world. That's one of the reasons why I wanted Velvet to go with me yesterday to the Million Hoodie March (Amy Goodman, Indypendent). Velvet had to escort Vagina Dentata out to dinner, though. She's out of the hospital and authorized to go to the restaurant on the corner. Buzz Kill was busy training for the swim portion of the mini-iron man yesterday, and Velvet took his grandma to the doctor all by himself. The two of them have a pact where Velvet will tell his dad that Vagina Dentata did not have any alcohol.
This little story was the absolute reason why I had to cancel the Gemini Party that year since Buzz Kill threatened to read it to everyone at the party to see just how funny it was. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I'd already read it at KGB and knew it was damn funny. And I was sadly disappointed to cancel that party because it was the one where I'd invited two dozen gay porn stars over to determine once and for all if Buzz Kill were gay or if he just needed a woman with a strap-on. It may have been a rough time in my life, but at least I had the kind of life where I wound up being the only woman at a party filled with gay porn stars who I could invite to the Gemini Party for that specific purpose. I may have been oppressed by my marriage, but at least I wasn't boring.
This little story was also the reason his lawyer wrote my lawyer about my frivolous lifestyle and serial infidelities. All I can say is that if I'd have known how quickly he'd have stomped off down Central Park West after reading this story - I'd have written it a year earlier and saved us all an excruciating trip through DeNile. I still can't believe that man thought for nearly two years I was going to wake up one morning and realize I filed for divorce due to an extended bout of PMS, but that's the fact.
The Jig is Up also explains why Buzz Kill would shit bricks if Mr. Wisdom does find his way up to Menopausal Stoners Outpost on the River and becomes a recurring character in the sit-com of my life. I'm still hoping that really happens. It's been two whole weeks since Mr. Wisdom told me that he couldn't manage to divorce his wife, take care of his kids, deal with his time-intensive job producing crime shows for cable and pay attention to me all at the same time. In man time, two weeks is nothing.
As it happens, this story could be considered the pilot episode for the Summer Boyfriend Reality Show, which began to manifest back when Granny the Ho was sick (Stonerdate 03.30.08). As it also happens, that post about Granny the Ho will give my buddy Cali a clue as to why she imagines Cybil Shepard playing me if my story were a movie. Although I think Cali was referring to Cybil as she appeared in Moonlinghting, her portrayal of Jacy Farrow from Last Picture Show was more likely conjured up in Cali's mind.
No doubt about it - the way I was raised, I couldn't help but turn out like Jacy Farrow. I have to say, though, that I prefer being a red head to being a blonde. And I prefer being over 50 to anything I have experienced so far.
I have to say, here, that the story of the black and me takes on a different significance in light of Trayvon Martin. I was glad to see people out yesterday at the Million Hoodie March
The Summer Boyfriend Reality Show generated a lot of good stories, my personal favorite being the story of Shakitking - who I enjoyed calling ShatAKing- the self described Wall Street Rock Star who turned out to be an internet menace, hiding in his underwear in his basement in New Jersey trolling for silly women on Plenty of Fish. I learned he was married when his wife left a comment on the blog (The Saga of the Wall Street Rock Star, Stonerdate 09.06.08).
That highly enlightening relationship with The Narcissist, aka Bluestar727, got started as a result of the Ashley Madison Experiment, however. Although some would say that period of my life was self-destructive - and Rhet went so far as to say that Agatha Christie herself would have trouble naming the culprit if I turned up murdered - I learned a lot about many, many things - not the least of which was the kind of mixed signals a woman can get from a man who goes through the motions of a significant relationship while he's looking all over Adult Friend Finder and other sex sites for a woman with a flaming red bush or trying to sign up for a gang bang (Light, Shadow & Internet Porn, Stonerdate 07.25.09).
As it happens, Bluestar727 was also Currently Separated the whole time we saw each other. His wife had kicked him out, but he got an apartment in the same building. He said that he wanted to be near his kids - which made sense - but in retrospect, I think he was a controlling dick head. We had been seeing each other regularly for about six months when he stalled about signing the separation agreement, but he finally signed it. The last time we talked on the phone some years ago, he bragged about how clever he was by refusing to sign off on the divorce. The Preacher was still officially married when he came down from the mountains to visit me (Springtime and Shifting Paradigms, Stonerdate 03.18.10). He wrote me a month or two after he went back home to say he'd filed the divorce papers with the court.
I specifically and intentionally did not check "any" marital status on my match dot com profile last fall. Currently Separated was NOT okay with me - but Mr. Wisdom was so right in every other way that I let it slide since he had filed the papers. I can't say that I'm up for another season of The Summer Boyfriend Reality Show. I just want to move up to the Outpost and start manifesting a big, fat raise for myself at work. I'm thinking I should be Educational Director or something like that. Or maybe I should be mentoring a group of student teachers through one of the local colleges. Or both.
Meanwhile, Buzz Kill is paying Velvet to babysit Vagina Dentata while he's chasing around Hawaii in Spandex. Vagina Dentata has gotten the okay from her doctor to go back down the the corner bar, but she still needs somebody to keep her steady on her wobbly little feet. Whatever we've been through as a family - and we've been through a lot - it's all working out in the end.
Thing of Beauty #49-101
The reason Buzz Kill insisted on a clause in the divorce stipulating that I must write under a pseudonym - and that I couldn't publish anything ever until Velvet turned 18 - will be clear after reading this story here: The Jig is Up
I wrote this one a long, long time ago too. Back before Buzz Kill was Buzz Kill and before Velvet even had a nick name, although one could argue that Buzz Kill has been Buzz Kill since before the dawn of time. The Eternal Buzz Kill.
He's off to Hawaii next week to run in a mini-triathalon. He's gotten so good at these races of his that some foundation is paying his air fare since he's raised so much money for them by participating in these events. Imagine! I'm glad he's happy with his self in Spandex. Could be that this little story - which finally drove him out of the apartment. stomping down Central Park West home to his mother - shouting into his cell phone, "Once you go black, you never go back!"- Could be that this story started him on the road to self actualization.
Looking at this story today, it almost seems like the kind of race based remark pervasive in this country that has resulted in municipalities where it takes public pressure to convince the cops to take somebody like George Zimmerman into custody. I was reminded Matthew Shepard and James Byrd, Jr. Things like that make people afraid to have children in this world. That's one of the reasons why I wanted Velvet to go with me yesterday to the Million Hoodie March (Amy Goodman, Indypendent). Velvet had to escort Vagina Dentata out to dinner, though. She's out of the hospital and authorized to go to the restaurant on the corner. Buzz Kill was busy training for the swim portion of the mini-iron man yesterday, and Velvet took his grandma to the doctor all by himself. The two of them have a pact where Velvet will tell his dad that Vagina Dentata did not have any alcohol.
This little story was the absolute reason why I had to cancel the Gemini Party that year since Buzz Kill threatened to read it to everyone at the party to see just how funny it was. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I'd already read it at KGB and knew it was damn funny. And I was sadly disappointed to cancel that party because it was the one where I'd invited two dozen gay porn stars over to determine once and for all if Buzz Kill were gay or if he just needed a woman with a strap-on. It may have been a rough time in my life, but at least I had the kind of life where I wound up being the only woman at a party filled with gay porn stars who I could invite to the Gemini Party for that specific purpose. I may have been oppressed by my marriage, but at least I wasn't boring.
This little story was also the reason his lawyer wrote my lawyer about my frivolous lifestyle and serial infidelities. All I can say is that if I'd have known how quickly he'd have stomped off down Central Park West after reading this story - I'd have written it a year earlier and saved us all an excruciating trip through DeNile. I still can't believe that man thought for nearly two years I was going to wake up one morning and realize I filed for divorce due to an extended bout of PMS, but that's the fact.
The Jig is Up also explains why Buzz Kill would shit bricks if Mr. Wisdom does find his way up to Menopausal Stoners Outpost on the River and becomes a recurring character in the sit-com of my life. I'm still hoping that really happens. It's been two whole weeks since Mr. Wisdom told me that he couldn't manage to divorce his wife, take care of his kids, deal with his time-intensive job producing crime shows for cable and pay attention to me all at the same time. In man time, two weeks is nothing.
As it happens, this story could be considered the pilot episode for the Summer Boyfriend Reality Show, which began to manifest back when Granny the Ho was sick (Stonerdate 03.30.08). As it also happens, that post about Granny the Ho will give my buddy Cali a clue as to why she imagines Cybil Shepard playing me if my story were a movie. Although I think Cali was referring to Cybil as she appeared in Moonlinghting, her portrayal of Jacy Farrow from Last Picture Show was more likely conjured up in Cali's mind.
No doubt about it - the way I was raised, I couldn't help but turn out like Jacy Farrow. I have to say, though, that I prefer being a red head to being a blonde. And I prefer being over 50 to anything I have experienced so far.
I have to say, here, that the story of the black and me takes on a different significance in light of Trayvon Martin. I was glad to see people out yesterday at the Million Hoodie March
The Summer Boyfriend Reality Show generated a lot of good stories, my personal favorite being the story of Shakitking - who I enjoyed calling ShatAKing- the self described Wall Street Rock Star who turned out to be an internet menace, hiding in his underwear in his basement in New Jersey trolling for silly women on Plenty of Fish. I learned he was married when his wife left a comment on the blog (The Saga of the Wall Street Rock Star, Stonerdate 09.06.08).
That highly enlightening relationship with The Narcissist, aka Bluestar727, got started as a result of the Ashley Madison Experiment, however. Although some would say that period of my life was self-destructive - and Rhet went so far as to say that Agatha Christie herself would have trouble naming the culprit if I turned up murdered - I learned a lot about many, many things - not the least of which was the kind of mixed signals a woman can get from a man who goes through the motions of a significant relationship while he's looking all over Adult Friend Finder and other sex sites for a woman with a flaming red bush or trying to sign up for a gang bang (Light, Shadow & Internet Porn, Stonerdate 07.25.09).
As it happens, Bluestar727 was also Currently Separated the whole time we saw each other. His wife had kicked him out, but he got an apartment in the same building. He said that he wanted to be near his kids - which made sense - but in retrospect, I think he was a controlling dick head. We had been seeing each other regularly for about six months when he stalled about signing the separation agreement, but he finally signed it. The last time we talked on the phone some years ago, he bragged about how clever he was by refusing to sign off on the divorce. The Preacher was still officially married when he came down from the mountains to visit me (Springtime and Shifting Paradigms, Stonerdate 03.18.10). He wrote me a month or two after he went back home to say he'd filed the divorce papers with the court.
I specifically and intentionally did not check "any" marital status on my match dot com profile last fall. Currently Separated was NOT okay with me - but Mr. Wisdom was so right in every other way that I let it slide since he had filed the papers. I can't say that I'm up for another season of The Summer Boyfriend Reality Show. I just want to move up to the Outpost and start manifesting a big, fat raise for myself at work. I'm thinking I should be Educational Director or something like that. Or maybe I should be mentoring a group of student teachers through one of the local colleges. Or both.
Meanwhile, Buzz Kill is paying Velvet to babysit Vagina Dentata while he's chasing around Hawaii in Spandex. Vagina Dentata has gotten the okay from her doctor to go back down the the corner bar, but she still needs somebody to keep her steady on her wobbly little feet. Whatever we've been through as a family - and we've been through a lot - it's all working out in the end.
Thing of Beauty #49-101
posted by PENolan at
8:52 AM
7 Comments:
Goddess bless you Jacy. Your words are the only uplifting of my spirit this week so far. Now, I must find a way to bottle it... eh? Good stuff.
I think you did bottle it . . .
Actually, I'm sending you the little bottles back for a refill. It's on my list of things to do tomorrow
xo
Oh, I didn't make myself clear, apparently. I didn't mean that you had been unkind to Buzz Kill at all. That being said, I'm sure he carries some responsibility for the debilitating unhappiness that caused you to be hospitalized. That's the part that wouldn't be so flattering to Buzz Kill, I'm pretty sure. Although I do give him credit for getting you to an appropriate place where you could get the help you needed. That really was a princely thing for him to do. Someone who was truly uncaring would have either insisted you stay at the first place or just let you continue on your deadly trajectory. A real asswhole would have decided it was a good time to purchase a handgun, "for personal safety," of course.
I went through and read all the other links in this entry, too. I had to laugh out loud (causing my son to ask what was so funny) when I read, "Mother banished me from the kitchen when I said 'Praise the Lord, there's morphine enough for every one.'" As one who is morphine dependent, I thought it was a real scream! I think I would have loved Granny the Ho.
As for Maglight Man, I had one of those, too. While I realize that they are totally getting off on the idea that they're committing a taboo that could easily have cost them their lives just a generation or two ago, that time has passed. Now, I can see it as part of a role playing scenario (I even have a hoop skirt somewhere,) it's kind of a turnoff when he scripts the same repetitive phrases over and over again.
I had a lover once who had a name with the same first syllable as my son's. He was forever insisting I use his name, and it was a HUGE turnoff for me. I've made it a habit my entire sexual life to NEVER use actual names during sex because I've always been afraid I might say the wrong name. I've never been one to fantasize about others during sex, but still, the possibility exists. Therefore I always used the usual pet names. But I'm sexually "retired" now, so all that drama is over.
And yes, Jacy is exactly what I was thinking in my mental image, for the obvious reasons.
Dang! We used to play in my mom's hoops from high school. Mother made sure we knew how to maneuver the hoops to sit properly.
I wonder how many parallel lives there are running around out here in blogtopia
In have dated a few ladies in my quest to exorcize the "ONE" from my head.
One of the black ladies was so funny. She informed me,a few hours into our first date that she dated white guys exclusively now because there were "things" that black guys won't do.
"Like what?" I asked, knowing full what she meant.
"You know." She said.
"No, please, tell me"
"You know!"
I told her I believe she was just seeing the wrong guys. But, I could and would do "things" (not being hung like a maglight necessatates I learn good technique).... then, as you know why, afer one good night, she wants to make it exclusive - and that ain't my thing. I still consider her a good friend, however.
Now, I am wondering why I wrote this. I really haven't much else to contribute to the discussion, I guess ;-)
And, being a fella, I can't speak to the elusiveness of the female orgasm, except to say, I do my best to ensure my friends enjoy themselves as much as I do. Sometimes, more.
Trish, the hoop skirt is a remnant of my time as a California Grand Choir member of the Masonic youth group Rainbow for Girls. (I am a Past Honored Queen in Job's Daughters and have two tiaras one in silver and another in gold, too.) Our matching dresses were gigantic hoop dresses, yellow, printed with California Golden Poppies. They had scoop necklines with a ruffle and an echoing ruffle/flounce around the bottom. It's all very Antebellum.
As it happens that year was THE year when they were doing their best NOT to discuss race, but chapters were quietly told NOT to initiate black girls. It just so happens that our chapter already HAD a "black" girl. She was actually Indian, but her skin was very dark and she had "black" facial features.
All Masonic organizations were fading fast by then and they seem to be in permanent decline now. I would estimate that there are only 10 to 20% as many youth chapters and an even smaller percentage of members compared to what it was when I was there. The adults blamed it on girls sports, but I think it's more of the societal change, really.
The adult organizations are floundering, too. Meetings look like overdressed versions of God's waiting room. Sad for those hung up on tradition, I suppose, but organizations need to change with the times, and Masonic organizations have not.
People don't want to be associated with segregated organizations anymore, nor do most people have the money to throw into pointless formal wear just because their parents and grandparents liked putting on the dog and looking down their noses at others. Once upon a time it may have meant something, but now it just causes people to confront you with all sorts of ridiculous conspiracy theories. Maybe those 33rd degree Masons know something, but I guarantee you the rank and file members know NOTHING.
mac, I hope you noticed that your comment led to the entire post about race over at Roundtree7. It made me realize that many of us look on people of other races as potential sex partners NOT potential criminals.
Make Love not War, and all that.
Cali, your stories continue to astonish and amaze me. Masonic Youth Rainbow for Girls? Jobs Daughters in Tiaras? What a sight!
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home