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The movies alone are the way I like it. Always. Always like it like that. People say: “Oh my you go to the movies alone? Gee, call me sometime I will go with you.” Like it’s a sad thing and they are saving me. Don’t think so. Love the movies alone. No body to wait for, no body late so I miss the beginning. Phone calls back and forth about what movie. No one hungry saying they have to stop for food. No one eating in my ear and trying to put his or her fucking hand on my knee.
In NYC all day today. Down by the site burning incense. My friend Janet’s sister in law sent her some Corpal she got from a medicine woman who lived in Central America. The sister in law met her in Santa Fe and this woman said to send the incense to someone in New York City and they would know what to do. It would release the souls of the dead that are still under the rubble at the site. Oh yeah, ok, we can do that. Janet and I go down to the site with the stuff and burn it.
Yesterday I got on a bus and headed home to Maine. One hour just to get out of the city. Friday afternoon, bus packed, riding the dog out and up and home. Heavy heavy traffic not to mention the tractor-trailer that was turned over on its side blocking the whole road in Danbury. Four hours later and we are still not moving while they remove the truck. I am knitting and eating and watching bad movies. Young women next to me all anxious and freaked out she is going to miss her dinner date in Boston. Oh gee big deal.
Beautiful day, so warm for November. It’s a gift; I could have frozen my ass off today watching my daughter ride in her drill team demonstration. Made me cry it was so cute. Made me cry to be here in Maine watching six little girls ride there horses while Walk Like an Egyptian blared from the pick up trucks cd player, around and around and past each other and pacing just right not to colloid. People sitting on blankets watching the girls all dressed the same in their pink vests and tall black boots. Why arn’t I under the rubble?
Today I saw a man at my daughter’s school interview. Our eyes met when I walked in. I diverted them because it made me a little nervous. He was there with his daughter having a tour of the school. I couldn’t tell if his daughter’s mother was his wife or not. I left and all morning I thought about this guy. When I returned in the afternoon he was there. I noticed he had hair on his ears and a little bit of a potbelly. Gross. Why hadn’t I seen that this morning? Man oh man, it is always something.
Michael Jackson looked at me; actually he looked like he was looking at the guy behind me, from the cover of the TV guide. I was waiting to buy groceries. I had to pick the guide up and look close. I was fumbling around in my purse to find my glasses so I could get a better look before it was my turn to pay and leave all this wonderful gossip and intrigue that calls to you in line at the grocery store. Michael Jackson looks white and female. He doesn’t look anything like what he did as a boy.
It’s getting very cold here. Maybe I don’t want to go through another winter. Maybe I just want to lie on the beach and drink tequila and make love with boys and maybe some girls if the boys are at a game or something. Maybe I don’t want to go to school or to work or make dinner and go get my teeth cleaned. What if I just don’t want to shovel the fucking walkway, or write? What if I just quit doing what I have to do everyday? I think some people do that. Maybe that’s a nervous breakdown.
My son hates to get up in the morning. He looks at me like I am some sort of creepy slimy thing that has crawled out of the wall just to get him up and make him go to school. He’s a sophomore. So I say “ok I’m not getting you up anymore, you get up yourself and if you don’t get up, you don’t go to school.” So the next morning his sister asks me where he is. I say he is sleeping and not going to school I guess. She says I’m nuts and he’s a drop out.
Once I knew a boy, his name was Rain. We made love on his couch, The Cars jammed in the apartment next door. They were loud, we were drunk and it was a long time ago. I saw Rain once a week when I delivered fish to his family’s restaurant two hours South of where I lived. He was gorgeous and he would be there waiting for me. When I was done with my deliveries and he was done opening oysters, we went to his place. Neither of us knew much about each other except those nights, once a week.
Today I went to Cambridge. Lots of kids, everywhere. Where are all the adults? Gone far away to hell. Man, it was like a dream, a world with only people in their late teens and early twenties. Ha. Oh there is an older man. He is taking the money behind the counter. Oh there is another old guy, he is begging for fifty cents in the subway. But he has on a black leather jacket, and hundred dollar sneakers and he is smoking a cigarette, aren’t they about three bucks a pack now, that’s probably why he needs the money.
My daughter and I took the bus to the city. We walked past a little fish place and my memory swelled beyond my capacity to suppress. I tried not to remember but it was too late. The boy, the fish deliveries, the couch and The Cars, the drinking, the crazy lovemaking, the laughing and the not knowing each other. I could see clearly in my memory the sign on the restaurant door saying Closed due to Death in the Family. My daughter took my arm and skipped along. She will never know her mothers past. She never needs to know.
My dog has a guilty look that rivals no other dog or human. Guilty body, low and sad and full of apology. Tonight I walked into my apartment and Murphy is waging his tail and greeting me and acting like he always does. While I talked baby talk and scratched him I noticed chicken bones all over the floor. How did that little friggin’ dog get up on the counter and get a whole chicken and a fresh loaf of bread? I want to know where Murph learned not to feel guilty for such a heinous act? Sign me up.
I awoke last night or very early this morning with my hand around my penis. It was so hard and I was pounding my crotch with the side of my soft fist. My imagination was better then reality, my voice was loud as I asked for more and continued on and on lifting my ass up off the bed. I get a rush here just writing about it and might have to go back to bed to re-live the whole horny thing again. This would not be strange at all except for the fact that I don’t have a penis.
Tonight I wanted to go to dinner and then to the play Betrayal. There is a restaurant in town called Fore St. and I wanted to sit at the bar and eat the Fois Gras. I got there and it was packed in the dining room as usual. The bar was packed also and there was a waiting list to sit AT THE BAR. Hello? So I left and went to Subways and ordered the six-inch Southwest Chicken sandwich on whole wheat. The guy gagged over my sandwich about four times while he was making it with rubber gloves on.
Breaking up sucks. I do it so often with the same guy. This time it is forever. I say that every time but this time its for real. We say terrible things during these times. We hate each other. I hate him and I just imagine he probably hates me and I can’t stand thinking that. I have never really liked him except for brief times when I loved him but that never lasts. How come it is that hate lasts a lot longer then love? He says it’s because my parents are alcoholics, yeah, big deal, like whose aren’t
Walking across that giant bridge in new cowboy boots hurt. My head hurt from too much booze and not enough drugs the night before. I can’t remember his name or even what he looked like. I’m sure he doesn’t remember me either. It was so long ago. Maybe he remembers the girl who couldn’t get her new black Tony Lama’s off. Her feet were so swelled from dancing she sat, frustrated, at the end of his bed, bent over tugging and twisting and finally I just fucked her with them on. Maybe he tells that story to friends, maybe not.
Went to see Harry Potter movie tonight. My son calls him Harry Pothead. I think that’s very funny. Four fifteen-year-olds and a thirteen-year-old and an adult, me, ha, all crowded into my huge Suburban truck and one of the fifteen-year-old boys drove. Drove me crazy. It was dark and we ran up on curbs and sane people honked at us. The movie was fun. The audience was compiled of every age man and women. Lots of kids in their twenties and little kids age seven. Probably all of them had read Harry Potter, except me. My next books on tape.
Feet are cold. Head aches. Broke and out of coffee. There must be another way to live. Is everyone broke? No, of course not, just most of the artists in the world. It’s a choice. A broke choice. Just cause one is an artist doesn’t mean they have to be broke. That’s got to be a myth. The starving artist and all that. Bullshit. I hate that saying. The starving artist and the rich Doctor. I bet there are some starving doctors out there and very rich artists too. The starving doctor is married to the rich artist, for sure.
Jasper decided again to change her hair. It was the flat thin hair that was making her life hard. If she had thick curly hair then everything would be perfect. So she went to the beauty parlor and asked for a perm. This was in nineteen eighty and good curls were hard to come by. She didn’t know this, she didn’t know much about stuff like hair or make-up. Anyway, she got a perm. She looked like a poodle cause she brushed her hair so much trying to get the curls out she gave herself a head of cotton candy.
dogs humping, babies crying, cars stolen, roofs leaking, horses dying, grass growing, backs aching, feet itching, eyes burning, hearts breaking, dinner burns and an unwanted baby is conceived, rod bearing goes, someone smiles in the park, bank account over drawn, son coughs and stays home, pictures taken for money, someone cries out loud for love, another runs away from it, plays it safe, sleeps alone. Old man snores, women lie awake. Hatred spins joy into garbage, love turns relief into pain, bird crashes into plate glass, carnival barker gets high with the horse dancers and they laugh at the tourists.
I knew a girl once whose mother had slept with her boyfriend when she was a teenager. This is bad enough but the mother always told the girl she must stay a virgin or the boys would hate her. That if she slept with a boy he would leave her and laugh about how he had screwed her. So she remained a virgin even though she slept in her bedroom with her boyfriend. I guess the mother snuck in her room when she was downstairs have breakfast and fucked the boyfriend. The girl married the boy and hated the mom.
My mom came to visit last night. She stopped on the way down and bought a car at Wiscasset Ford cause he car was over heating. She came in with her new car and her little dog I gave her last Mothe’rs Day. They had on matching purple sweaters she had made. She slept in the living room on the couch with the little dog. Two-thirty AM she wakes me up and says, there is a light on the stereo, the dog can’t sleep. So I got up and put a pillow over the light. Never got back to sleep.
I was so tired yesterday from not sleeping. Thanksgiving. The kids and I drove up to New Castle to see friends. My mother went over to my brothers. I wanted to strangle her for waking me up in the middle of the night; it was good that we didn’t spend the day together. I was just too tired to handle the ordeal.. The kids and I ate turkey and pie, they played flashlight tag with their friends. We stayed up late and I slept in the little girls room. Lots of stuffed animals and toys and a very cozy bed.
We stayed another night at my friends up in New Castle. It was a strange feeling to not have anything to be back home for. They said, hey stay another night, and I said, I have to get back and they said why? I couldn’t think of a reason. I had my dog with me; my two kids were with me. Maybe the fish needed to be feed; no that’s a lame excuse. So we stayed. It wasn’t until this morning when we left early that my son told me he had plans last night and hadn't wanted to stay.
There is a man who lives downstairs from me. His wife left cause he was acting really bad, bad enough so she would leave and it would look like she left him. They are getting divorced. She took all the furniture including the stove. Backed a U-haul up to the door and emptied out the house when her husband was gone. When her husband downstairs came home he went ballistic. He called the police and said he was robbed. The wife’s father bought the guy a new stove and put it in for him so his daughter wouldn’t be arrested.
Went to some function thingy tonight. Benefit fashion show auction deal for the Peabody House in Portland, an AIDS hospice place. Everyone was all dressed up and I saw people I had not seen in a long time. There was lots of small talk, everyone said Oh you look great, why weren’t you in the show? What are you up to? Still taking pictures? How are the kids? I said, Thanks, yeah yeah, great, teenagers, yup, see ya around. It was pretty much the same group of people that I used to hang around with. I had a wicked stomachache.
The phone kept ringing last night late in the night. When I would pick it up in my sleep it would just beep beep at me. Some sort of automatic dialing thing? It should be illegal for someone to call your house unless they are your friend or a friend of a friend, or maybe a relative if you want. But you get to choose when you sign up. Ok, only this friends friends not that friends friends and only this certain relative and a friend of that relative but not this relative at all or anyone who knew him.
There was a soft knocking in the engine of my car so I took the car into the service station and left it there over night. Today I walked the three miles to the garage to get my car. The guy charged me fifty-six dollars and told me that my engine was broken. I asked if he fixed it and he said no, and I asked what the fifty-six bucks was for and he said it was just to be told that I needed a new engine and that would cost four thousand five hundred dollars. I just started laughing.
Last night I dreamed my sister came to visit. She looked great and as young as she was when she died. It was a little tense in the beginning; like it always was but as the dream went on we became relaxed and loving with each other. I asked her if she wanted to go riding and she jumped at the chance. We were in my room getting her outfitted in my riding pants and half chaps and fooling around, laughing and talking about which horse she could ride. Then the phone rang. I was so pissed to be awake.
Well, It’s Friday. I decided to trade in my piece of shit car for another piece of shit car. A friend told me I should have it detailed cause then it will look good and I’ll get more money from the dealer. That costs 150 bucks so I thought I would do it myself. I spent all day getting cleaners and sponges and rags and sticking dollars and dollars worth of quarters in the vacuum machine at the car wash. After I was all done I stood back and looked and sighed and drove it over to the detail guy.
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