Weblog 66

May 13, 2007~ 2:45am
Today is Mother's Day....the day I think of privately



as 'Martha Stewart Day'- in other words, one of those trumped up celebrations of the American propaganda of supermoms- "career woman/housewife/sexual siren" that every little girl tries her bloody damndest to be when she grows up, and usually ends up anorexic in the process.

You know.......'Mother's Day', the celebration of long-suffering, and a penchant for growing one's own herbs- making cleaning products from their reconstituted puree, and lovely door decorations out of their dried remainders, when tied with a spritely bow!

A day of cheap sentimentality and virtural ignorance the rest of the year through, because after all- "you've had your DAY". It's probably just that I hate these false occasions foisted upon us. I hate the 'Good Housekeeping' picture of American life and motherhood, the 'Saturday Evening Post' vintage picture of clean and calm domestic bliss. I'm talking about this-



Yes- a lovely picture to be sure, but lightyears away from a lot of households where the kids are glued to the television, the frozen dinner is in the microwave, and Mom is juggling her overtime with a parent-teacher conference called because Bobby slept through most of his science classes this semester and printed out nudie pictures off the internet, as well as sharing them with his class chums-- for a price. Households where 'dad' is often oblivious to all of it, but knows the football line-up for Penn State off by heart and the names and breeds of his pretty secretary's pets, and the type of the cologne she wears because he asked her when he told her she 'smells nice', and in fact, he bought some for his wife.......for Mother's Day.

That's the unvarnished picture I have of the contemporary family and I think it's a helluva lot closer to the truth than the picture above- or a crazy attempt to be the kind of housekeeper/decorator Martha Stewart is. On Mother's Day, a simple hug, a word of thanks, a promise to pick up after yourselves, a bit of real appreciation outranks a dozen roses any day of the week, but especially that day- the one they've singled out- make it real- is all I'm sayin'.




May 14, 2007~ 5:15am
It started when I awoke yesterday, but today worse- a thousand sneezes, stuffed up head, packed in cotton, the world muted. And I saw a fine yellow dust on the outside of the new car- pollen!-- it's either allergies or a nasty spring cold.

That's what I got for Mother's Day- (and two calls from the kiddoes)- and dinner out with mum, which was quite pleasant, though the back brace I bought for her --(that's what you get an 86 year old mother for Mother's Day- and some chocolates) was too small; will have to be upped a size, but she did proclaim it wonderfully comfortable.

Couldn't breathe through my nose to sleep at all. Was in a panic, dreading a sleepless night and wondering if I'd have to keep my sleepless, sneezing carcass home, but I sprayed some Vicks 12-Hour Nasal Spray (thank God I bought a new bottle on Saturday night)-gave each nostril 2 squirts and within 10 minutes, I could breathe again, and managed to sleep 6 hours.

So now I'm just woozy, stuffed and woozy, but the spray should clear the head again. I'm hoping this will pass- that whatever bloomed and thrust its presence in the air will politely taper off, If not, then drat!-- I've caught Kay's illness from Thursday night, and I'm basically screwed: that little gal was deeply under the weather, that's for sure.

Ah Mondays.........the old poker up the butt day- the boot in the seat of the pants, the tough it out, the plod and plod....yep, here it is. And me, too muffled, muted--- too drunk-on-pollen to enjoy it. LOL!




May 14, 2007~ 8:15pm
Still down with this damn cold. About ready to turn in, but I wanted to share some thoughts that have been circling my brain all day, and that is the question of 'taste'. What is good taste- what is BAD taste, and how important are they? When does it become snobbery? How useful is it to make such distinctions?

I guess for me bad taste is anything so obvious or 'cute' it rankles-- (this is to be distinguished from satire or exaggeration to illustrate a point or elicit laughter)-- bad taste is cornball stuff taken seriously, or any overtly cloying sentimentality. Bad taste is different from obscenity- that's a whole other category- no, I'm talkin' plastic protectors on the furniture, tea cozies crocheted to look like angels or pumpkins, Kewpie dolls lined up on a dresser or a mantel, and having a vanity license plate that says "SLPRY WN WET"....

Here is an illustration of the difference between 'good taste' and 'bad taste'- (and dare I use the horribly hokey expression...."oh gag"???)






I need say nothing more-- some are hopelessly, sappily cute to the bone. Some see the difference and pay it heed, and thank god for that. Now I'll trod on off to bed in my little bunny slippers to get some badly needed rest. Nigh t'all. LOL!




May 15, 2007~ 5:45pm
I was very excited when I woke up this morning because I could BREATHE without using a half box of kleenex-- and my head felt clear. (I was feeling pretty cocky I must say. LOL!) I thought, "Well, that's ONE cold/allergies didn't get the better of me." Oh I still sounded nasally but I was bright-eyed and alert, and strutting around like an Immortal.

That lasted until about 1:00 pm today, when the bottom fell out and that's when the COUGHING BEGAN. I mean the deep, churning, croupy mayonnaise jar of phlegm we lungers carry around deep in our chests. And yes, of course, the nose started up again and I do believe there was not one phone call I took that didn't mystically create that "turkey quill down the throat" sort of tickling and bring on the kind of hacks should not be heard outside of a sanatorium.



By 2:00 pm, this was me, sitting at my desk and wondering why in the hell I hadn't stayed in bed the whole damn day! Of course, I am preparing here for an early night, still believing the magical will happen once again and I will awake feeling 100 percent chipper. (Actually, just to have one day like that is a miracle for me. I mostly go doooooooownhillllllllll from day one of being sick, so I have SOMETHING in the plus column anyway!)

Happily, I discovered this amazing lady artist today on the net, sent via email, and I find her driftwood horses incredible! Go on. Enjoy yourself-- you just patiently read through my sickening descriptions of this 'cold thing' that's workin' on me, so you deserve it. Heather Rensch: Sculptress Extraordinare




May 16, 2007~ 7:30pm

Sex!- ok, now that I have your attention, that's the subject- and I want to toss some thoughts around. You know-- most ladies would see this picture and just be over the moon- thinking "oh, how sexy- how sensual they look..."



Well, to me it just looks posed. Really a turn off for me, just as the women's romance novels leave me cold and always have (at least since I was about 13, when I thought they were "dreamy". LOL!) Whenever I see candlelight, dark, russet silks and some fella with a 5 o'clock shadow that looks like central casting cooked it up (and they DID in this case- that's Joseph Fiennes up there with the incomparable Heather Graham) and if those two do nothing for me in a classically 'sensual' pose, you would think I simply have a miserable case of total lack of libido.

And to that, I would say, "no.....but I'm different." I don't connect at all with most other women's concept of 'romance'-- or what they see as sexual.
There's gotta be something alive- and yes-- 'crazy JOYOUS'-- absolutely alive for it to click for me: impromptu, unstudied, 'physical'- but in a way that hints at the very real physical stresses that sexual acts are made up of so there's gotta be the 'good healthy stuff'- that could very quickly trip over into bull snorts and heavy labored breathing. Stuff like this-



Call me an idiot, but that picture is ALIVE and so are the ladies in it--and the the largest one is laughing: nothing sexier than laughter. (I don't mean smirks or dirty giggles or knowing winks, I hate that shit)- I mean transported in the moment to somewhere else- a place that can become quite effortlessly into each other's arms, laughing and tumbling....

So there's that. And then there's the more covert, darker side trussed up by inhibition, shame- 'in pain' in one way or another, and I find myself responding to the absolute nakedness and honesty in those feelings as well. Look... I don't think any child gets out of childhood without full set of luggage filled with dread, shame, and excitement, all mixed together when it comes to sex-- and most of us take it with us in the 'carry on' compartment wherever we go in life. That's real. To me, it looks something like this-



Weird? Absolutely. Haunting- disturbing?? Without a doubt. It's in my 'carry on' nonetheless, and I cannot deny its pull.

So the very first picture here is 'pretty' to me....that's it. Stretched beyond that, it's contrived and dumb, but a combination of the second two- well, that's the real picture: some mixture of both. I find them stimulating and sexual.

Media-garbage that tries to plumb the human sexual labyrinth is predictably boring and dead. It's like pushing someone onto a dance floor and saying, "Go ON! It's fun!"

What's 'fun' is being alive. What's sexual is whatever turns you till you hear that 'click'- and I don't think Madison Avenue has a clue about that--just the rote stuff, the predictable; it's about marketing, not ever about the thing itself. That remains the prize in the Cracker Jack Box- (and it's known to shape shift too) and that's what makes it interesting.




May 18, 2007~ 5:15am
Still blowing my nose- coughing- but the severity fluxuates. Sometimes I feel on the mend and other times much worse. I thought I had it licked yesterday but this morning there's much phlegmy clearing and blowing of nose here. (I don't think the temperatures bouncing around between 82 on Tuesday, to rainy low 60's and 50's has helped it much either) but it's blessedly Friday. I can sleep all day tomorrow. Right now sitting here with my coffee and a lap full of soggy kleenex, it does indeed feel like tomorrow will never come. But it does. It always does, for good or ill. A comfort really.....





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