Saturday, July 08, 2006
Some Women Are More Alive Than Others
One of my old friends left his beautiful wife for a very unattractive marriage counsellor (let's just say she was as wide as she was tall) that he and his wife had been seeing to save their troubled union. The woman, (let's call her Dr. Strangelove) claimed that to be self-actualized, one had to throw everything to the wind, to abandon your life as you know it and fall into the abyss. Huh? If we are taking the abyss as a euphemism for her enormous ass, I suppose she was right. His life changed (mostly his bank account -- his wife took him for all she could considering the circumstances -- advice to all in illicit relationships -- do not write long letters describing your lovemaking) and all he said about his choice (she dumped him shortly after he chose her -- part of the unorthodox treatment perhaps?) was that some women are more alive than others.
There are two schools of thought about all of this -- that being in love is worth everything (the only crime according to that great philosopher Anthony Quinn is not loving!) and that being in love is a crock of shit -- all that I'd walk over hell if you dropped your hat and put it back on your precious little head stuff gets old and tired and you mostly just end up walking around in hell looking for a hat that isn't there. As for being alive, it's a tough gig. You start each morning breathing. Sometimes you visit the ocean and enjoy the tides that come and go as they damn well please, washing everything you've built or written in the sand away.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"We are most alive when we're in love." John Updike
Chet Baker's Prettiest Girlfriend
1 shot of espresso
1 shot of raspberry vodka
Serve in a martini glass and garnish with shaved chocolate.
Benedictions and Maledictions
In answer to Cindy's question about "Day of the Dead" -- you are correct. The rapist in the poem is the Chelsea rapist in New York who chloroformed a woman on Halloween night 2005 (he'd dressed up as a member of the NYPD and cleared her building, telling the tenants it was on fire) and raped her on video camera for nearly twelve hours. The story is that he was a frustrated writer/journalist (for Women's Wear Daily!) who had produced one off-off-off broadway play and had become obsessed with the television show Nip/Tuck. His detailed journals were found before his capture about the rape -- how he planned it and what he would film. A student on a college campus in the south (he had been on the run for a couple of months) recognized him from the news and turned him into the police. When the police found him, he took out a knife and slashed his throat as they approached. The hospital staff saved him and so he is awaiting trial. His father has spoken out about how troubled his son is -- like most of the stuff parents say about their children, I'm thinking, yeah, we knew that.