An ex of mine moved into an apartment in which an elderly woman had been strangled to death, seemingly by a family member hoping for insurance. My ex got a reduced rate on what I came to refer to as the "Murder Bachelor Pad" and decorated it in Unabomber chic, all trashbags and unhung framed album covers, mostly of Chet Baker, both the Bill Claxton photographs when Chet had a face so beautiful it could break your heart and the later ones, when Chet had a face so heroin-ravaged that it did break your heart. My ex did not fear the energy of the Murder Bachelor Pad because the woman had been elderly and my ex is a rather large man with a large neck and it would take a long time to strangle.
His complex contains a lot of what my ex refers to as "see you on the weekend" Dads, lonely guys who try to chat him up in the laundry room. He's not much of a talker, my ex, so I can only hope they find solace in his vaguely affirmative grunts. He himself does not have children and one of his worst moments was when someone asked him if his kid went to school at the college advertised on his t-shirt. (He takes great pride in his t-shirt collection that includes some very obscure ones and some "dress" t-shirts such as his "Free Leonard Peltier" one and one of Elvis in a turtleneck.) I can see him still, walking amongst the garbage bags and the framed Chet Baker pictures, all at floor level where you can enjoy them provided you don't mind sitting on the floor.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"...Went to college once and can still speak English if there's any demand for it. There isn't much in my trade." Philip Marlowe --The Big Sleep
Drinking CD suggestion of the day -- Cure for Pain, Morphine
Benedictions and Maledictions
Anything You Want
A skinny man who had been dancing around without
a shirt in the back of the bar now shoves his way
into our conversation, now clothed, white t-shirt
hanging from his frame, wife by his side and starts
talking about baseball, his love for it and tears up
when he talks about the Detroit Tigers, God what
a wonderful town right now, do I understand what
he is saying and I nod while checking out the track
marks on his arms and his wife tells me that her
sister took her to Red Lobster and let her use $50
on her WIC car, saying get anything you want.
That's love, she says, and I smile and say, baseball
is emotional and Red Lobster is great, and anything
you want, well you can't beat that and then the game
comes on television and nobody says anything else,
it's the end of something, but what I don't know.
12 comments:
oh my goodness what a picture! love the post.
Honey, you may be one of a handful of poets and writers who can be in a Victoria's Secret catalogue. By the way, did the hideous Beast give our sweet Beauty her other Woody Allen picture back yet? Or is he "holding it hostage" in that same hateful passive-aggressive way he always had? I am so glad you are rid of that Neanderthal. It took him years to get the message. kiss-kiss, Bon
My newest t-shirt.
There was a time where I thought about places where terrible things happened, now I don't. I don't even pay attention anymore to what people have done; only the present counts for me. For instance, I knew a man that killed his wife and had her in his freezer for three years. Since he used to be a school administrator, he and I would talk shop while he prepared the coffee for the day. Sure did look forward to my coffee. --Jim
Today's triple-header "Quote of the Day":#1: It's evident that no individual, no society, no natural process can come into being and continue its existence without lawful relationship, without the various elements knowing their places and fulfilling their roles. It is often as evident that heirarchy is inseperable from order, that it is inherent in order on every level, on all scales--that it is an organic principle without which the world could not exist--Lorraine Kisly;#2:There is no rectifying of those above by those below. Rectification must be from above downwards.--Mo Ti;#3:Pepsi, no Coke.--from "Saturday Night Live."
Today's 2nd "Quote of the Day": Chock Full of Nuts is the heavenly coffee, heavenly coffee, heavenly coffee, heavenly coffee, heavenly coffee. Better coffee a millionaire's money can't buy--sales gingle.
I have this theory. Hank isn't dead. According to Personfinder.com, he's 36-years-old. Hank has faked his own death and now lives with Michelle and does her boudoir costuming and photography. Even if Hank is dead there with her, she's always said: Don't think of being dead as a handicap.
O Mighty Isis
Dude sound like a Lady bbut best of all you're the Foxy Lady of Detroit Rock out, little MamaR2 C2!
Dear Michelle,
Interesting outfit. Marvelous and lovely, just like the rest of your post. Your ex-, well . . . good thing he's an ex. To the Tigers and your whole post, including the beutiful picture, Bravo! You are a vision of loveliness, always.
Meshelle very sexxy I am little jealos (laughs) luv to my favorite poetess N.
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