these days of leiderhosen

On St. Valentine's Day my True Love gave to me: My beloved runs naked into my bedroom. It's Otis! It's Otis! And it is. Was. I can't really get into it. The worst/best  part was burying him in my parents' backyard wrapped in a flowered sheet Steven has brought incense The kind I like An expensive gift. This will be a Buddhist ceremony, apparently. He breaks the stick in two hands me one half lights them put it to your forehead then put it in with Otis. I put it in and burn my finger on Steven's embered end And I am kneeling in the soft garden soil sobbing When I get up and around Da is holding up the side of the house. That was real nice he says. And I weep all over him. ----------------- I asked the Steven what he thought Otis' next reincarnation would be. "Magnificent." And that is a very fine answer. Or maybe that is the highest one can be to enlightenment: a charming, happy, loving, weird, troublesome house cat...

It was not a fucking good day today. Locked out of N office, where my source files are kept. Now her allies refuse to let me in and only the co-director will Who is there only 50 percent of the time. Now there is a form to check out files It should just say Mme: you are not wanted here. Clip it to a heavy clipboard and tell me to bash myself over the head with it. My job is now impossible. I still don't know what I did or what I was supposed to have done. N still won't tell me. Too busy, Well, fuck that noise.

I now understand why every hacky sack player I ever met was stoned. You need time to move a little differently when you are keeping something deliberately in the air. My brother joined the Circus. And we couldn't be prouder. We. I love that my Da and I are a couple. Odd, certainly. I like to think we might be friends. ANYWAYS: My Brother Scott. Circus Shmrikus. Vermont. Heaven. And he and his darling family came for Christmas and We were just in heaven, with the new Odessa. So after a delightful two weeks they leave and Da says I want to learn how to juggle. Scarves. Scott said he learned using scarves. Buy a set for me on Walmart.com. I'll pick it up, two counties away. Aw. No. Forget it. Amazon is dangerous. juggling Scarves. Prime? Less than 12 bucks but more than three stars. Yes. Damn, I sent it to myself. Too much trouble to cancel so I send  him a fresh order. He is delighted and confused and trying to rig them to make them operate in the air as he wants/ex...

 Here are Bowie’s booktrysts, in reverse chronological order: The Age of American Unreason ( public library ) by Susan Jacoby (2008) The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao ( public library ) by Junot Diaz (2007) The Coast of Utopia (trilogy) ( public library ) by Tom Stoppard (2007) Teenage: The Creation of Youth 1875–1945 ( public library ) by Jon Savage (2007) Fingersmith ( public library ) by Sarah Waters (2002) The Trial of Henry Kissinger ( public library ) by Christopher Hitchens (2001) Mr. Wilson’s Cabinet of Wonder ( public library ) by Lawrence Weschler (1997) A People’s Tragedy: The Russian Revolution 1890–1924 ( public library ) by Orlando Figes (1997) The Insult ( public library ) by Rupert Thomson (1996) Wonder Boys ( public library ) by Michael Chabon (1995) The Bird Artist ( public library ) by Howard Norman (1994) Kafka Was the Rage: A Greenwich Village Memoir ( public library ) by Anatole Broyard (1993) Beyond the Brillo Box: The ...

My entire sexual existence has lived under the shadow of a plague, one that deals death and fear. On the more delightful B-side: I have loved and lived, until last Sunday, in the time of David Bowie.  We have lost thirty-nine million people to AIDS so far, the equivalent to the entire state of California. Those people –had they been given futures- who would have dramatically changed everything. We lost the people that NOW needs. We lost vast cultural human potential  from 1975 to today. It is simply not there. The tastemakers, the writers, the patrons, the poets.  We lost young intelligent minds dancers, politicians, artists, thinkers, comedians, people to think and talk and would be participating in the world today. Everything would be different. But miraculously, the Divine preserved David Bowie. What a gift. David Bowie the rock star of the flexible sensuality and outspoken sexuality managed to survive this plague, losing friends, collaborators and lovers. ...

..that the title of the previous post has much to do with the content. I have been lately writing in an altered state, so I might as well call this what this latest writing is and just go with that.  Read, if you like, Darlings. Mme. L.

My mum. I don't know when I started calling her "mum". Much longer than after I moved out of the state and relied on PBS releases of BBC comedy for my lessons in culture, style and, occasionally, diction. This is not exactly make me the hot and witty chick the men I wanted WANTED. I was a bit strange. To this day the word banana is pronounced "BAH-nah-nah". Anything too nasal just does not belong to fruit. No. And as I write this: the sports bra I was wearing exploded. Danskins/Freestyle, front zip just separated company  and popped apart under my 2000 french blue man's shirt with the name 'Atticus" over the heart, on the pocket. My name is not Atticus but the character of Mister Finch lingers, close enough to remind me how people are, how mobs behave, where fear belongs.  Maybe I am still a bit strange. I threw away the sports bra; it was the not the first instance of zipper divorce. I gave it another shot at my chest and BOOM mid-post. Like ...