sweetheart redux

September 29, 1990 the  faulty inspiration of alcohol. like a movie set, it appears to be real, but is not.

Being Women Together My mother and I were women together.  Well, okay, I was only her girl child for some of those years, but I quite precociously grasped one evening when I heard the plentiful and ebullient family next door having a barbecue that lasted roughly from noon until midnight the summer of my eleventh year the disquieting contrast between those noises and smells and the quiet dusk of our own kitchen. “I’m lonely.  I want more,” my sullen gaze telegraphed itself into her awareness. “I understand, one hundred percent” the squeeze she gave my hand – two short squeezes and a long one that felt particularly sincere and protective – transmitted. So – this was womanhood, was our own version of womanhood anyway – a cloud of dissatisfaction palpable as a self-separate entity, a runty bunny rabbit, white with those gruesome red eyes.

(I found one of my mom's old notebooks from the eighties.  her handwriting is atrocious but I'm transcribing her poetry) ************ Pinched and twisted In the dead of L.A. – Lost and more lost, she wanders, Not one word exchanged or offered- Bury and buy Again + again He exits Dripping gold Silent and dripping indifference Peripheral vision Revealed him Not to her.   Sheer wonder in Compromise . He’s glowing rays Of hate, death. Could his meaning have been Tender curiousity? The air is cool The sky is late The sidewalks are covered in Pages from desk calendars You (we) tread over days and days Of last year In which something happened – something – Lived and died – Putting me in a bleak park – Another lost day and dead years And dear but dead l.a. December 28 1989

          Resumé Razors pain you; Rivers are damp; Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp. Guns aren’t lawful; Nooses give; Gas smells awful; You might as well live. Inscription for the Ceiling of a Bedroom read by Ms. Parker Symptom Recital -- scene from the movie Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle starring Jennifer Jason Leigh

The Nostalgic principle of Time Travel on this the Anniversary of the Murder of John Lennon Firstly, would Darby Crash be a household name instead of just the homophobic homo nihilist punk who killed himself to be famous but had the sad luck to do it the night before we found out about John Lennon? It wasn't much of a splash he made, his suicide, and now he haunts this old roachy hot dog stand in Hollywood where he spent some happy -- for a nihilist -- nights with his fans and friends.  His old ghost bones give him pains. Secondly, and more importantly,  if John Lennon hadn't,'a been murdered when he was would mom have visited dad more in the hospital instead of drooling glued to the tv for all the details of her mania-man, that effortlessly cool guy, John Lennon? Dad was in the hospital recovering from heart surgery and oh gee wiz, if John Lennon wouldn't have been shot like that when he was, would they have stayed together, at lea...

I’ve tried out the gesture of tsk-tsking a few times, When it seems it may have been appropriate. I’ve tried, Not for months now, but once upon a time, To do the type of things that level-headed people do, Like sighing at others’ reckless denial of the Shit that passes for first-world amenities – Not to humble-brag, but yesterday I spoke at length with A homeless woman whose mouth was all covered in Sores. She liked my jewelry and my dress, Commenting on it the way my dead mother would have. Anyway, this homeless woman, To whom I gave some amenities that were in the scheme Of things as paltry as offering To piss on a jellyfish bite that was sustained Months and months ago – It was nice just to be there with her. But there have been times, Yes indeed, When I tried out tsk-tsking. I’m speaking to you now, Ghost of my Mom. There was a day when I called...