The Sexiest Being on the Planet Evokes Memories of Lust & Rue

Rad note » this entry originated from another page. It was moved here because the subject drifted far enough to warrant its own, separate entry.

At the end of this entry (that you're reading now) I have included a link that will return you to the exact spot from where this entry originated. Here ya go ...

» The Lust and Rue of Mary-Louise

I know it must just be my imagination .. but I can hear Mary-Louise saying behind me, "He *does* have a point there, Mary."

What a photo .. kinda freaks me out the way she looks right thru you.

I had to put my hand over her picture in order to read .. cuz she wouldnt stop looking at me.

Her looks remind me very much of cousin, Patty. (Just put a big smile on her face. I sent an email with the link to her, asking what she thought. Cousin-Patty was in the Miss CT pageant twice .. placing 5th & 3rd.)

That article says that Mary-Louise's book is not a memoir. What says the Queen?

She is talking to these old lovers (.. with "lust and rue"). Kinda like what I am doing.

I can sense resistance .. it is not any easy place to go. So respect to her.

» The Lust and Rue of Mary-Louise Remind Me

But remind me to tell you about the conversation that I had with the Bug's mom .. when I met her running on the beach that first time ..

.. because it comes into play here with M-LP's book. Or at least, reading that article made me think of it.

Because this was a very crucial moment for me. Certainly up there will all of the biggies.

<ignore this intentional body-text marker>

••• today's entry continues here below •••

And I am approaching this crucial moment from the sexual (penis) side of things. But the reason it is so worth mentioning is because of what was on the other side of the penis, so to speak, at this encounter. This crucial encounter.

» The Lonely Writer Writes (in Laguna)

Because, at the time I met her, I was writing. I had dedicated both time and energy and even considerable financial resources .. to the craft. (Cuz I knew.)

Which always involves a lot of trial and error .. you know.

I was writing from morning to about 2:30-ish .. after which you get tired. And you have been sitting, so you want to get out and move and purge all this stuff that is coming out of you.

» Running Barefoot on the Beach at Crystal Cove

So I would pop off the targa top and drive up to Crystal Cove, which is a few miles up PCH. Five minutes max. Where you'll find an amazing 3-mile stretch of beach .. which makes for nice a 6-mile run up-n-back.

During the winter months, you pretty much have the whole place to yourself. You might not see another person the whole time.

During the summer months, if you ran at sunset, the sun set so far north that you actually ran straight into it (.. when you ran north) .. and the brilliant colors reflected off of the dark, wet sand as the wave retreated.

And it looked like you were running on a brilliantly colored mirror of fire or water .. depending on the colors of the sky. Like a mind-torquing optical illusion.

That was the absolute coolest. So you had to watch the times of the tides and of the sunset .. which were changing constantly.

I would run barefoot right where the water met the shore. Because the softer, more powdery sand was hard to run in. That would wear out your ass in a hurry.

And yes, I would sometimes run the powder for that very reason .. but not for a post-writing run.

» Looking for Meaningful Companionship But Not Romantic Entanglement

So I was not looking for any kind of romantic entanglement. Because I have limited time. Because I have limited funds. (You know the drill. Economics 101. Starving Writer chapter.)

But writing is very lonely. And yes, I have two housemates. But they are just housemates. They are just young girls. Who answered my ad in the Pennysaver when the Film school girl left me for someone who wasnt starving. (It was time for something new .. for boh of us. You could feel it.)

And I would really like to meet someone with whom I can just be myself and perhaps even share some of these things that have been pouring out of me .. with surprising force and volume.

And I honestly dont even know if such a thing is possible .. but it can't hurt to look, can it?

But I have planned for this all my life. I have been working and squirreling away a nut here and a nut there. I have been keeping open my eyes for interesting anomalies and things that cause strong emotions.

» So Why Even Try?

And every so often I would see things that cause me to think, "Oh, this is going to be great in my book. This shit is so bizarre that no one will believe it, which only makes it more fun to write."

Because I could see early on that you could never think up a story nearly as bizarre as this real life stuff. So why even try?

[ When I read about Dostoevsky's life .. I said, "Hey, this (real-life insanity) sounds a lot like the (supposedly fictional) Brothers Karamazov."

Dostoevsky is not about the fictional aspects of the novel as much as he would have you to believe. ]

So .. the question becomes .. how do you assemble this insanity into a believable coherent whole? (How am I doing, Mary and Mary-Louise?)

I am still experimenting, obviously, but this current cinéma vérité style of writing seems to be working well for me. I am getting good at these quantum-style jump-cuts.

» The Optimum Musing Environment for the Highly Creative Man

Speaking of which .. what do you girls think about the idea forwarded by Woody Allen in Midnight in Paris .. that highly creative men need to live with a muse or two and be highly sexed?

Oh, wait .. I meant rather Vicky Cristina Barcelona. (I confess that I have been thinking about Paris a lot lately.)

A penny for your thoughts?

» The Writing Thing

If you have the writing thing, these are things you do automatically. You challenge people for clarification when you hear them say things that sound hypocritical. (You try to do it nicely.)

No one tells you to do these things. And yes, sometimes it gets your ass in trouble. But you cannot stop the stagecoach from delivering the mail just by putting down your foot. (Good luck with that, limpy.)

Anyway .. that was my world before we stopped on the beach and chatted. Because I didnt have to stop; I could have just run right by her with a courtesy-wave of acknowledgement and a polite smile like I had a few times before.

» The Other Side of the Penis

I am trying to show you (among other things) what was on the other side of the penis.

Because, from the guy-side, it is not all about the penis. (Tho, I keep hearing women tell me that it is. Am I simply not hearing them correctly?)

» The Best-Laid Plans

But remind me to tell you about my moment of miscalculation. The best-laid plans are often .. miscalculated.

Because up until that point I nonetheless focused on writing.

But after the movie, we go here and we go there and then she is gonna show me her place because you can't really have much of a relationship if you've never even seen where a person lives and been a guest in their home .. right?

Relationships take off after you have been a guest in the home and been treated well there.

» Sleeping on the Couch

But then it started to get late .. and I have no car .. because she picked me up. And it is late to be driving, so fuck, I'll just sleep on the couch. That will be cool .. I can do that, no problem .. because I am feeling good with this girl.

And she gets me the nice, fluffy comforter. "Ooh," I say, "you have the good stuff. The super-fluffy stuff."

And one of those nice, fluffy pillows .. that smelled like cedar. I felt certain that no other head had ever used this pillow before.

And she pulled up a chair alongside and we were having the most marvelous conversations about everything and nothing and I am totally digging this girl.

Especially her particular mix and match of convention and unconvention. I mean, she keeps hopping back-n-forth .. causing me to reevaluate every time.

» Can I Climb in There?

But it is late and I am tired .. and I forget the surrounding conversation .. but I remember when she said, "Can I climb in there?"

And it was very natural and automatic and I didnt say anything, but rather lifted the comforter so she could climb in.

Now, if you are able to say "No" when the yoga-chick asks if she can climb in there with you .. then this is something that I would have to see with my own two eyes in order for me to believe it.

» It Is Not Good That the Man Should Be Alone

And that was it .. cuz when I felt her yoga instructors body fit up into me .. ooh .. the voice in my head said, "Dude, we have not felt anything like this in a long-ass time."

And she was warm. Good circulation .. those yoga chicks. It quickly got toasty in there. And I am thinking, "Man, this feels so unbelievably good that I can hardly stand it."

And yoga chicks have fantastic muscle control. For even the very smallest of muscles. And she is doing the subtlest little movements in just such a way as to say, "I am a yoga chick, dude .. if there is anything us yoga chicks know about, it's muscle control. Let me show you what I mean."

I mean, that was not at all difficult for me to hear. I was receiving that message loud-n-clear. (Most girls are ready to have sex before I am.)

Anyway .. I am not going to kiss-n-tell .. but I can tell you that it isnt long until the question becomes, "What are we doing here on the couch?"

» A Letter to My Younger Self

So, the moral of my story here .. which I am writing to my younger self from the future .. like Ethan Hawke does in that movie Predestination ..

.. is this » "If you really want to dedicate yourself to writing .. then dont let the yoga instructor press her warm yoga body up against you while you are falling asleep on her couch."

Because I was okay up until that point. (Yes, I have gone back and thought thru this stuff .. you cannot possibly imagine.)

I should probably note here .. for the sake of future generations .. that few things in my life felt more 'right'. (Feel me?) If I were to place an order at the factory .. this would be close to what I would order.

But you may forfeit the coolest kid ever .. so I would just go ahead and let her in. But I should warn you that you will get the shit kicked out of you. Many times, I'm sad to say. But in the end, it will be worth it. You'll see what I mean.

People will line up to kick your ass. Professional ass-kickers will line up for a piece of you. I know that you can't believe this now, but wait-n-see.

So you should at least make it look like you're trying to resist the inevitable. This was clearly the finest physical specimen, the most finely tuned, that had ever pressed up against me like that. So I shoulda known better.

» Poetry of the Python

And the thought was,"This feels like a python snuggling up against me." You could feel her strength. I was definitely digging the python action.

But it was more than just her strength (.. that did it for me). Rather, it was her e.a.s.e of strength. Or ease with it. Difficult to describe. And who knows why certain things do it for us? They just do. The rest is mere speculation.

But that ease of strength, or whatever you wanna call it .. suppleness .. that is one of the big things that did it for me. There was a poetry in it. (Which is why yoga chicks ruin you for all other women.)

She had a gentle writhing snake-like motion that spoke volumes to me. And I was getting the message. She had definitely gotten my attention.

The voice in my head said, "This is good for you. It is not good that the man should be alone. Cant you just feel the therapeutic effects already? The improved circulation and the increased respiration? Mother nature's own cardio."

I am a tactile person, so perhaps this is something that merely appeals more to me.

» Relax and Let Nature Take Its Course

And she did not actually say this, but the feeling that I came away with was, "Dude, I have advanced degrees in Child Development .. so relax and let nature take its course. I got a handle on things. Wanna see what I mean? You ever been with an Ashtanga girl before? I doubt it. You dont know the meaning of muscle control until you've been with an Ashtanga girl."

Now, this girl is not a California girl. And I grew up in Connecticut. But we are both here in California. Both living in Laguna Beach. Both running on the beach at Crystal Cove.

We both realize and appreciate how cool Crystal is. Obviously more than the indigenous species. (They didnt name it Crystal Cove for nothing.) Etc. I could go on.

But, being from somewhere else, I am able to see and notice things, perhaps, that the native cannot .. because a particular aspect of life in southern California has become default white noise to them.

You would see some of what I am talking about here when you go (migrate) from one nuclear plant to another. And you would say to your fellow migrant nuclear friends, "Why do they do this thing this way? That is fucked up."

And your coworking road whores would say, "Yes, that's fucked up."

So I would ask them .. "Why do you do this thing like that?" And they would say, "That's the way we've always done it and it would be too complicated to change."

But they couldnt even see it because that is the way it has always been for them .. even tho it is a painfully fucked up way of doing things.

So they would continue to do this fucked up thing .. from lack-of-enertia, I guess. A lack of something.

» A Layer of Appearances

Anyway .. one of these things that I noticed when I moved here (and yes, I had up my writer's antennae) was that there seem to be a LAYER OF APPEARANCES here.

A very nice layer, I will admit, but a layer nonetheless. Appearances. And I have a nice appearance myself, so naturally, I fit right in.

But the effect of this layer seems to be that you are not talking directly (heart-to-heart) to the person. Rather you are talking thru this layer that I'm trying to describe..

It is a subtle thing, and it would be easy for me to be misunderstood .. and maybe it's because I came from working in New York before I came to California .. and in NY, they are very direct. Right up in your face.

That is the culture there. That means they like you. So the contrast may simply be amplified for me.

But if you have been back and forth between NY and LA, and spent time living in each place (NorthEast vs SoCal) I bet you know exactly what I am talking about.

The movie LA Story with Steve Martin parodies some of these things. (Parts of that movie make me pee my pants. That would be a good movie to watch the night before you go to jail.)

Which confused me when I came out here because the singer-girl (Kristen) who I met in Connecticut, and who was from the Valley .. she was so not about appearances. Even moreso than me. So that is kind of what I was expecting. (Tho yes, she had a very nice appearance.)

And in my mind, I associate Hollywood with this layer of appearances. I mean, Hollywood, the movie industry is all about manipulating appearances .. for the desired effect, of course. That is what they do.

I do not know if the appearances thing feeds into Hollywood, or whether Hollywood causes the culture of a layer of appearances here .. or whether there is/are some other factor(s) at play.

So every once in a while I would get out my proverbial pocketknife and pry behind this layer when I just couldnt resist the urge.

And I discovered that, instead of people responding with glee at such a clever observation .. rather, they do not care one bit for that .. when you disrupt their beautiful layer of appearances.

So I learned to leave that shit alone .. I catch on quickly. Yes, I am speaking abstractly, but you feel me. Homie can play pretty much whatever game you wanna play .. and I will probably play it better than you. But that doesnt necessarily mean that I think very much of your game.

But my point is that .. with this girl, I was able to get beyond this superficial layer of appearances .. and it felt so good .. so satisfying.

And this is not even what I want to discuss. This is simply the r.e.s.u.l.t of the conversation on the beach, which is really the thing that I want to discuss. Tho I am not yet ready for that.

[ I am very good at avoiding my charged subject, arent I? ]

Now you might say that this relationship (the relationship that produced a child) was really a result of Maria's input, and sure, there is a degree of truth to that .. but without stopping on the beach, I never woulda said anything to Maria.

[ When I asked Maria what she said about me, she told me that she said, "He's the nicest axe-murderer you'll ever meet." But I dont think that this is what Maria really said. ]

But .. I think that the ultimate holy grail for any meaningful romantic relationship .. is a natural resonance between the two .. where each are at their most natural (real) wavelength (i will find a better word than wave-length later) ..

.. where the mesh is easy .. and where there is a complementary thing .. which means the other person is different in many ways, yet the same in others.

I have thought a lot about this kind of stuff. Much of it as part of reflections on past relationships .. both the good memories and the bad.

But I dont want to get too carried away with this line of thought (.. because I might never find my way back). I was looking at all the fascinating things that I could address. but that looks like a big job .. and I might get dirty.

I confess that I was not very familair with M-LP, but after reading that fascinating article, I googled her ass.

And the google says that she was genuinely in love with Billy and she got pregnant and started yelling at him a lot for no apparent reason. And he left her while she was pregnant .. for another woman.

Do I have that right? I admit it sounds rather outrageous, which is why I ask. If that indeed is the case, then I will not speak to that .. but I could.

It sounds like everybody was looking for a letter titled Dear Fuckhead, but that is not what she wrote. So that article made it sound like she is owning her shadow (embracing duality).

That is big-girl stuff. I would certainly put that in the 'rare' category. The mere fact that she was willing to confront the specter of such emotional pain is itself eyebrow-raising, no?

I mean, I dont care how tough you are .. that's gotta hurt. Pretty badly. You're carrying around this guy's baby in your belly and he's with another woman?

I can't quite wrap my head around how that would feel .. but I know it cant be good.

Soon as you involve children, things immediately go to a place that is beyond rational logic. You are operating in a world that doesnt make sense and you know it doesnt. (But that doesnt seem to matter anymore.)

I might have to lift out this section on M-LP .. just like I did with the Queen. (I can only imagine the title.) What is going on here?

There is a part of me that can't believe I am actually writing this stuff.

Update Nov 16 » I noticed an article today at the Times that said Mary-Louise might be playing Mary Karr, who is adapting her queenly memoirs and pitching them to Showtime. [ Do you want me to call my friends at Showtime for you? ]

When I read that part, one of the voices in my head said, "They are fucking with you now. They read your entry and they are fucking with you."

I mean, what are the odds .. that one of the girls who I am talking about in this entry ends up playing the other girl? That kinda freaks me out a little, to be honest.

Because, I do not know what the odds of that are .. but I know that they are eyebrow-raisingly small. (Which is why I thought you were fucking with me.)

But then I read that Mary Karr actually has a blurb in your book. Can that be? That would torque my cranium with a most curious twist. I admit that weird coincidences like this happen more frequently than I am able to figure out what is causing them.

But it definitely makes me think.

First, you wonder what it might mean .. tho rarely am I able to come away with anything intellectually satisfying.

If your book really does contain a blurb by Mary Karr, then that means that you're not just fucking with me. But that would make me one intuitive dude, no?

[ As a side-thought, I feel that intuition is what makes for the kind of writing that sees into the future .. and describes it with hair-raising clarity. Certainly a perceptiveness .. a sensitivity. Food for thought for a rainy day. ]

That would be a very interesting coincidence, no? (I can feel myself trying to figure out what it might possibly mean.)

I see that you are a daddy's girl. You have the dad thing. I know the dad thing. Or I should say that I know girls who have the dad thing. Only too well.

» I am Not Your Father .. I Never Will Be

I have told such girls (somewhat exasperatedly), "I am not your father. I never will be your father. You dont want me to be your father." [ "You think you do, but you really dont." ]

I did not say this, but was certainly thinking it, "There are plenty of guys out there who are like your father. I am one of the few who are not. Why didnt you find one of those? It should be relatively easy for someone of your talents."

There are probably books on this stuff, but I know from experience that (some of) the these daddy's-girls set unrealistically high standards for their man. That neither he (nor any mere human) can ever attain.

I used to do this very same thing myself with girls, comparing them to my mother. No girl could ever measure up.

Everything is fine until the girl puts you into the place where she would normally put her husband. Because it is at this very time when she starts to compare and when he starts to not measure up. (And never will, no matter how wonderful he really is.) No mere mortal can ever measure up to Mr. Salt-of-the-Earth Himself.

And once children get involved, then you cannot really stop such comparisons from taking place (.. if you are a daddy's girl). It's inevitable, because you are operating on instincts.

Parenthood activates this super-human thing inside you (the parent) that causes the parent to put their kids above even their own lives. It doesnt make rational sense, sometimes, but you can feel its dictates in the clearest of genetic impulses.

You would gladly give everything you have for just the opportunity to step in front of a speeding train .. if it meant you could save your child. (You wouldnt think twice. You would be thanking the man for taking everything you own.)

Your significant other does not have this same thing for their partner. (They have other genetic impulses being activated.)

You make light of it at the end, but it is a killer for your significant other, because they will never measure up to your unrealistic standards.

I bet that Colette knows about these unreakistic expectations that I am talking about here.

I do not mean to sound like an authority on relationships, because my batting average is abysmal, but I have lots of relationship experience. I know of so many ways that a relationship will fail.

And I know when a girl has the dad thing. Then you (the man) are wasting your time even trying. The harder you try, the bigger you will fail (in their eyes).

The dad thing usually fades in your 20's or 30's .. so I not really sure why you are still there.

But this is why you have never been married, Mary-Louise .. admit it. You know I'm right.

You can at least admit it .. and then you can go from there. But as long as you stay in denial, your dad blocks out all others who might wanna sleep on your couch.

It's okay to place your dad on a pedestal, sure, good for you, but just dont compare your man to that pedestaled ideal and judge him unworthy when he fails to measure up (in your eyes).

That advice is free of charge. I'm sure that a good shrink could explain it so that it makes perfect sense. Arent I the best long-distance shrink ever?

But you know that your dad would want you to move on. You dont need a psychic to tell you that.

Notice how this says that (at t=1:10) Angelina grew increasingly uhappy in the marriage for the last two years .. basically since they got married (Aug 2014).

If true this would support my point .. because that is where the expectations would begin to become unrealistic.

» Flirting With Mary-Louise

But now I think I am flirting with you. This is exactly how it starts. You admire something about someone .. and next thing you know, you feel like paying them a little compliment. Quite naturally and innocently. Because they are obviously good at what they do.

The voices are warning me, saying, "Dude, dont do it .. do NOT flirt with this girl .. she is a daddy's girl (still). And you know how that goes."

I am the recognized flirting expert of the Internet. If I flirt your ass, you will know it.

I actually invent new flirting techniques .. on-the-fly, as they say. And I may invent a little something for you. (I can already feel it coming.)

[ This is the aspect of male flirting where the male gorilla beats his chest and says that he is going to do something that no human being has ever done before. Surely, a hottie like yourself is familiar with this ancient ritual. ]

You never know how these things turn out. Because you never know from whence inspiration comes.

Are you a girl who is turned on by creativity? Or are you more of a meat-n-potatoes girl?

My favorite type of flirting is based on some genuinely noteworthy and commendable feature or talent .. that has nothing at all to do with sex .. yet does not deny an appreciation that does.

[ If a girl is sexy and you pretend that she is not .. then it comes off as awkward, no? Or is it only if you are attracted to her? ]

I would call this sport-flirting. But sometimes it can be hard to stop when you are genuinely impressed. So there is always a note of genuine encouragement in the background. "You go girl."

It is actually easy to flirt with a girl who minors in gender studies. And I cannot flirt with Mary Karr, because she is married. But then I see this, which says to me "Open season on flirting with Mary-Louise."

Speaking of which .. have you had a chance to think about the question that I posed earlier .. about your opinion of Woody Allen's intuitions regarding the needs of highly creative men?

[ This is a little technique that I gleaned from Hemingway .. where you set the trip-wire ahead of time.

If you do it right .. it has the coolest effect. A little bang followed by a big bang.

It is very much a timing thing. But you have to think highly of your reader in order to use it. ]

But you have to be more careful when you flirt with girls who dont minor in gender studies .. because they might actually call you on it. And then you are in trouble. Put up or shut up.

And I talk a good game, sure, I admit it .. but my well-chemo'ed ass seems to drag away from the laptop.

[ Here I where I set low the expectations .. so they can be exceeded later. How high is your bar that you have set? ]

Tho I will admit that the lure which a gifted writer polishes is not sexual at all, but something which he dares not cast before a truly magnificent catch .. which is similar to the promise of eternal life.

That he might create with his gift and with his imagination and her inspiration an enduring world which she helped influence, and into which he might actually insert her .. forever.

» The Most Pressing and Persistent Full-Court Press

[ I am reminded of something I read recently in a biography of Dostoevsky .. where an older, mentor-like person who Dostoevsky had met in Petersburg, wrote about his (page 52) "flirtations with the wives of friends who aspire to be immortalized in his verse."

On the preceding page, this person (Ivan Nikolaevich Shidlovsky) is described as a 21-year old Finance Minister who is "tall, striking in appearance, eloquent, loquacious," and who "impresses everybody by the depth of his culture and the passion of his perorations on lofty topics."

The phrase "flirtations with the wives of friends" .. reminded me of a get-together party at a friend's house ..

.. where some of the husbands jumped in the car and went for more pizza or beer. (I forget.) But I remember very well how, soon as I heard the front door shut ..

.. the wife who lived at this house came over to where I was standing in their big kitchen, next to the warm stove.

And she came onto me .. rather unabashedly. Right there in the kitchen. The well-lit kitchen.

(Yeah, she had been drinking a little wine. Tho she did not seem drunk. Not even a little.)

And I looked over at the other wife, who was standing right there, who said, "Dont look at me. I'm not gonna say anything. I'll stand guard at the door for you two."

I thought that they were just fucking with me, but the way the wife said, "They'll probably be gone 20 minutes," kinda freaked me out. She made hard eye-contact when she said this, and there was no hint of joking that I saw in her eye. None.

She was sexy. I was very confused. I was very glad when the guys returned. The girls acted like nothing happened. But a few times during the rest of the evening, she gave me a look. 

Does not this seem bizarre to you? I am talking about a mother of young children. A college-educated mother. Obviously very intelligent. Well-spoken. Ferociously self-confidence. Laser-beam eye-contact .. with tracking mechanism fully engaged.

You could actually feel her on you. Her press. "I will do you right .. I promise."

She did not actually say this, but that was the flavor that I came away with.

Her consistent pressure reminded me of how it felt when the other team would suddenly implement a full-court press. Only she wasnt after my basketball. In each case, you need to stay calm and cool.

Perhaps they were just fucking with me .. but it sure seemed like she was dead serious.

» Just One Little Kiss .. What Can It Hurt?

I pretended like nothing ever happened, but that clearly rattled me.

I feel like I should have seen this coming .. but I didnt. I had no clue.

She was saying things like, "Dont you find me attractive?" and "Then just give me one, little kiss. What can it hurt?"

All while she standing close to me. Very close. She was right up in my personal space.

I mean, she was very persistent. She did not let up until we heard the front door open. And even then she waited a few seconds before reluctantly walking away .. and then none too quickly.

» I Had Learned My Lesson By Then

I am not saying that she wasnt a hottie or that she wasnt convincing .. but rather that I had learned my lesson by then.

I felt a part of me watching to see if she actually touched me .. because that would make it something else.

I wasnt really sure what it meant if she put her hand on me and touched me, but I knew it would be something different.

And, what if her touch sparked something in me? Because, once a man is sparked .. all bets are off.

But she never touched me .. and that's one of the reasons why I felt a big sigh of relief when I heard the front door open.

"Whew .. that was fucking intense."

Her eye-contact .. that was really the thing that was getting to me. I could feel her, beyond the words that she was saying .. I could feel her trying to climb down into me.

Trying to possess my soul. Well, I didnt know what she was planning to do .. but I could definitely tell that she was trying to get in.

Many doors she tried .. way more than anyone else. And she was good, too. I tried not to admire her for this .. because it opened an avenue for her to exploit.

But it was this fearless component that made her so impressive. Fearlessness speaks of confidence. Confidence says that you know you got the goods, and that you can deliver a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

A little memory for you to take home with you .. along with the generous doggie bag that she fixed for me.

"You can bring back these plastic containers whenever it's convenient for you."

I was too scared of her .. to flirt back with her. She was going to places beyond (merely) physical. ]

But I would never stoop to such lows with you. By casting before you the lure of immortality in verse. Far be it from me to do such a thing.

[ In A Moveable Feast (first pub 1964), Hemingway began the first paragraph of the chapter titled Ford Madox Ford and the Devil's Disciple by writing »

» The Closerie des Lilas was the nearest good café when we lived in the flat over the sawmill at 113 rue Notre-Dame-des-Champs, and it was one of the best cafés in Paris.

He finishes this opening paragraph by writing »

» In those days many people went to the cafés at the corner of the Boulevard Montparnasse and the Boulevard Raspail to be seen publicly and in a way such places anticipated the columnists as the daily substitutes for immortality.

The daily substitutes for immortality? What do you think he meant by that?

In a way? In what way?

Perhaps we should ask Mariah. I bet she knows. Maybe Bolt knows about immortality.

It's off-topic .. but living above a sawmill? You gotta be shittin' me. Have you ever heard a sawmill? They are like 150 decibels. They make a rock concert seem like a quiet evening. ]

Daddy's girls are still much better than what you find at the opposite end of the spectrum .. girls who had shitty dads. Because they want to process thru you all the anger and hostility that they have stored up from their shitty dad.

"Hey, you remind me a lot of my shitty dad .. what're you doing this weekend?"

And I can hear another voice saying, "Dude, you do not even know this girl .. so how can you flirt with her?"

And I say, "This is where I employ my secret quantum entangling technique .. known only to the highest order of Jedi Warriors. You will see what I mean. You might wanna take a step back and put on these here thermonuclear-grade sunglasses."

That is my gorilla chest thump. But I would be lying if I said there werent a quiet voice sitting in the corner of my mind saying, "You may not 'know-her' know her, but you can bet your ass that she knows a.b.o.u.t you .. more about you than you know about her. And besides, sometimes people know each other, but they really know jack about the other person. Cuz they dont really know themselves who they are. Ya know?"

And I said, "Oh my God. That actually makes perfect sense. I must be losing it when the voice in my head is making good points."

At first I thought that must be the voice of my ego .. but my ego does not sit in a dimly lit corner.

Welcome to my world, Mary-Louise. My quantum world. Cant you just feel the entanglement? (You know what I'm talking about.)

There are a number of variables that I coded quantumly into my entangling narrative .. but you will know what I mean from its characteristic effects.

Which are feelings of being thrown down and had at. Vigorously had at. Lightheaded and disoriented. And sometimes even laughing at stupid shit.

"What are you laughing at, Mary-Louise? What do you mean 'you dont know'?"

Always accompanied by deeply therapeutic feelings of euphoria. Exhausted yet somehow invigorated. Tho thoroughly relaxed. Speaking of which ..

I saw you there on the green dart-board cover of the Weeds series when I got Netflix streaming. (I just didnt know it was you.)

[ That looked like lots of fun (8 seasons). In retrospect, it's probably best that I didnt watch Weeds .. because then I might be too intimidated to write this sassy shit. ]

I opted instead to check out Hank Moody the writer/parent (7 seasons). He smokes some weeds himself .. particularly as a college Writing professor. (Why am I thinking of Mary Karr right now?)

He smokes in his office and blows the smoke out of the window. I bet Mary Karr has done the same thing .. on more than one occasion.

These seem to be series like Friends (10 seasons) .. where you actually feel like you become part of this crazy, but cool family. But which include content not suitable for network viewing.

I have since cancelled my streaming account to focus on DVDs, but I would check you out in Weeds if I still had streaming. I also watched enough of Mad Men to get a flavor for it, cuz everybody seemed to be talking about it.

[ Speaking of Weeds and Hank Moody and Friends .. both you and David Duchovny seem to prefer working on these long, multi-season series .. rather than on the big, blockbuster shows.

I do not know anything about actors and actresses .. other than, of course, that they are good at pretending they are someone else.

But it made me think about what my rock-climbing friend said .. that he very much preferred climbing at Joshua Tree over "big-wall climbing" ..

such as climbing El Capitan at Yosemite .. which he had done twice .. because his wife made him. (She's a stud-climber, too. Stud-biker. Stud everything.)

And he said that climbing big walls was more about logistics .. eating, pooping, peeing, sleeping, etc. (They had spent five days and nights on the wall, each time.)

He said (something like), "I'd rather spend my time climbing, rather than working on logistics."

Is that a valid analogy of why you prefer to work on the multi-season series (Joshua Tree) than on the blockbuster film (big-wall)?

He just called earlier today to check on me .. which is probably why I am thinking about him. ]

My conscience is bothering me .. that I am writing stuff that is too cool. And that it will make you dizzy. And I am exploring here, yes, to a degree, as a writer, probably more than I should sometimes.

Where imagination ends and other things begin .. this is not always an easy place to locate. Particularly when the landscape includes an emotional component.

So .. what am I saying here? I am saying that I apologize if you are feeling dizzy. Please accept my apologies.

I used to tell my chemo doctor, "Sometimes, if I stand quickly, I get the swirlies. Sometimes pretty viciously. Like I need to hold on to something. Or I might fall down." So I know the feeling.

» Resonating Naturally by Doing the Same Thing and Holding the Same Values

But I will tell you that the reason why I am interested in you .. is because you have written to these old lovers. That means you and I are doing the same thing .. to a degree. A small, but notable degree. Surely you see this.

And whenever I see somebody doing the same thing as me .. it makes me wanna check them out.

This was actually my mind set with the Bug's mom. That was the thing that provoked my curiosity. We were both running on this cool beach. And sometimes it was just us. Even before I stopped and introduced myself.

But this aspect of running across someone .. who is doing the same thing that you are doing yourself .. surely you see how reading that column about you made me think of when I met the Bug's mom that first time .. while I was running on the beach at Crystal. [ That's a lot of thats in one sentence. ]

The unspoken thing is, "Hey .. you and I are obviously doing the same thing. Seems like we're the only ones. That means we're alike to some degree. I wonder how large of a degree."

» Can I Just Be Myself .. or Does She Need Me to Be Someone Else?

If you listen closely, you will be able to hear the cry of hope .. nearly extinguished, saying, "I wonder if we are similar enough that I can just be myself with this girl. Or does she need me to be someone else?"

And during these days when we were the only ones .. the only ones running on the beach at Crystal .. and there were more than one .. on these days .. it seemed like the Universe was saying, "Everybody out of the pool except these two."

And I could hear the voices saying, "Dude, how many times are you just going to run by this girl and smile and waive politely without stopping to talk to her?"

"You are such a cautious pussy sometimes. She's only a girl. What harm could she do?"

"You are going to pass her on the way back after you turn around. You might as well do it now or things are only going to get increasingly awkward.

"Oh, look .. she stopped. Are you just gonna run right by her?"

I could hear another voice saying, "Dude .. that's the oldest trick in the book .. sitting on the drift-wood log and pretending to tie your sneaker. Surely you're not gonna fall for that."

That's when I stopped.

[ This bit about resonating with someone who happens to be doing the same thing as you .. is actually part B of the initial thing that I really wanna discuss.

Or that I initially set out to address. The thing which seems to be the only thing that I really dont wanna talk about.

Or am not ready to talk about. Or perhaps too chicken-shit to talk about. But it seems like I am willing to talk about everything around that thing ..

.. except for the thing itself. On these types of things, I need to sneak up on myself .. and do it before I realize what I am doing.

Perhaps, if I talk about a related thing, then I may (naturally) segue over into the singularity without even consciously realizing what I am doing.

But the feeling behind it is like » "Once you touch the singularity .. all bets are off. You may never return. Because you never know where it might lead. So you should probably say everything else first that you need say. And may God have mercy on your soul." ]

There are other things that I resonate with, too. But my point is that .. it's not just because you're a hottie.

Tho you are. [ "Very much so .. obviously," as Martin Sheen says to Colonel Corman about Marlon Brando. ]

Speaking of hotties looking relaxed on the cover of Weeds .. I have been checking out some other weeds, lately .. they definitely help me relax. No pain.

And fuck if Mirror-Mirror on the Wall didnt say that I looked smokin' hot. "Dude, Brad Pitt is eating his heart out right now."

» You Have Never Seen Shit Like This Before

[ Come on .. that was a great tie-in with the weeds. Admit it.

You have never seen shit like this before, professor-of-English Mary. You are rubbing your eyes in disbelief, saying."I am seeing this, but it's still hard to believe. I have never seen shit like this before .. and I have seen some shit .. let me tell you."

Another genre created right before your very eyes. And I aint done yet. Not even close.

I bet that all your boyfriends after DFW compared themselves to him. In more ways than one.

Which is why you want everyone to know that you are not going to talk about his penis.

It actually makes perfect sense. From a certain perspective. A certain bizarre perspective.

The voice in my head said, "Dude, she's a professor of English. You should at least run a spell-checker thru this thing. You know how you spell like shit sometimes, when you are in the flow."

The first pass thru, I am just trying to capture the raw impulses. I admit that spell-checking doesnt comes until later.

So spelling errors indicate a raw version. ]

Speaking of relaxing weeds, Mary-Louise .. have you seen this thing by Farhad? "I've since forgotten about my heartburn." He cracks me up. I like him.

[ My grandmother used to complain of heartburn. When my brother went to med school, he said, "This thing that gram complains of .. there is no such thing as heartburn. It's indigestion, I tell her." ]

What about this? Promising.

Oh, look at my friend Gary Cutting is throwing down here with Doug Husak. It felt like a few minutes of sanity while I was reading that Q & A.

You could probably make a lot of money in the future endorsing weed. "I endorse this here weed. Watch how I endorse this thing. Wow .. that's good. I feel better already. Most irie, I must say. You gotta get try some of this. I should probably sit down now. Hey, what's happenin' Willie? What are you endorsing there?"

Anyway .. say hi to the Queen for me. (She admits to being not a particularly nice person, you know. So watch yourself.)

Did you notice? .. how, in my initial introduction of you up above .. I have you taking my side against Mary Karr .. particularly on her contention that it's not about the penis.

I had read the column about your book where you were talking to and about all these guys, past lovers. And I guess it spoke to me.

Because this is what gave me the idea that you would take my side of the argument. (There was definitely imagination involved.)

I have thought about writing a little thing that captures all the different lessons that I've learned from each girl.

They all teach you lessons, but they all have one signature lesson. But I would have been interested to know if you learned lessons from these guys and what those lessons were.

I am wondering .. seeing as you have all this experience with guys .. do you feel that you become a different person with each one?

I have thought about this myself .. and it seems like you certainly a.d.a.p.t to each person. And, to the degree that you adapt, you change. And to the degree that you change, you become a different person.

I have heard people say that you shouldnt bring old lovers into your relationship .. and I think, "How can you not? They helped make me who I am. For better or worse. To a considerable degree."

Anyway .. I cant help but think we would have lots of fun comparing notes. "You dont say. Tell me more. It's clear as day to me that he deserved that axe blade upside the head. All fourteen inches of it."

I find that I like to take advantage of the knowledge that a person specializes in .. particularly experiential-type knowledge .. what you saw, what you heard, what you did, how you felt. That kind of stuff .. before it has a chance to get to an interpretive filter.

And it seems that you have much experience with men. (Good for you.) Do you notice any curious patterns?

Speaking of the queen .. this article calls your book "not-quite-a-memoir". Oh .. so close. I noticed that is it selling strong at Amazon with overwhelmingly positive reviews. You must be totally stoked.

I read some of the reviews. I was struck by how personal and touched the readers sounded. There is a huge compliment in there.

» Sexiest Being on the Planet

Ooh .. I couldnt help but notice this one » "Forget that this woman is a famous actress, forget that she's the sexiest being on the planet, this woman is *deep.* "

The sexiest being on the planet? The voice in my head said, "Dude, arent you curious what it's like to throw down the sexiest being on the planet?"

This voice must know me better than I thought .. because now I am curious.

They did not call you (merely) the sexiest woman on the planet .. but rather the sexiest being .. which appears to put you in a category beyond merely human. (I know this category well.)

And places you in the realm that includes mermaids, woodland creatures found typically in folklore, demigods and goddesses.

The sexiest being on the planet .. that's what I call setting the bar rather high. I better start doing some push-ups.

» A Title Suggests Itself

One of the writing voices in my head just said, "Dude .. Sexiest Being on the Planet .. there's your title for when you lift out this section on Mary-Louise and transfer it to its own page. This is gonna be too much fun. I can hardly stand it."

I feel like a kid in a candy store. A little kid .. in a big-ass candy store.

Okay .. I have the title, which you can obviously see at the top of this page. I so badly wanted to be Mr. Clever and title this entry with something that begins with "Dear ______ " like Mary-Louise titled all her chapters.

But this was not meant to be. I could not make that work. And it aint for a lack of trying. We must proceed with what feels true and right. Even if that means sacrificing juicy cleverness.

» I Think It's Her Shells, Dad

Speaking of kids and mermaids .. my son went thru a Little Mermaid phase .. where we watched a bunch of the Little Mermaid DVDs, many times.

And I once asked him at the park, "What is is about Ariel that you like so much?"

And he gave it a few seconds of honest reflection and said, "I think it's her shells, dad."

Life thru the eyes of a breast-fed boy.

» Not Just Another Pretty Face

Oh .. look at this review by Beth Kephart, who is another Memoir Queen, and who can write herself, writing at the Chicago Tribune. This is even better than being the sexiest being on the planet.

I am a memoir connoisseur. I teach the form. I read dozens upon dozens of "true" stories every year, and only two or three stand out. "Dear Mr. You" stands out.

Wow .. that is a remarkable review. So you're not just another pretty face.

I can't help but wonder how much of her review was due to her writing skills and how came as inspiration from reading your book.

I can feel myself processing the implications. That's like Kobe watching you play and telling you that you have game. (Oh, look .. Kobe announces his retirement.)

That makes me wanna reach out and touch you. (Perhaps some of your game will rub off on me.)

I better not read any more reviews .. or I will get all twitterpated.

If I were there in the flesh .. I would say, "Mare, your book doesnt say that it was wriiten with a writer .. like some memoirs do."

Then I would study your eyes closely and say, "Did you write this all by yourself?"

And if you did .. then maybe you would tutor me. (We would have to work out something with the barter system.)

» In Love With Mary-Louise

My brother's first wife's name was Mary-Louise. She was a nut. A doctor, but a nut.

Nana said, "I warned your brother not to marry her. But he wouldnt listen. 'Oh, Nana,' he says, 'you dont know .. we're in love'."

Much later, Bro said to me, "It cost me a lot of money to divorce her .. but it was worth every penny. A bargain at any price."

She was definitely a hottie, tho. Most people called her Mary-Lou .. bro called her Mare.

I still wish he woulda stayed with the gap-toothed girl .. from high school. She was such a sweetheart.

I noticed that you go after other actors .. being an actress yourself. I would not go after other writers myself. That would seem (to me) too much like sleeping with my sister. (Tho I do not have any sisters.)

Like I said, my brother's first wife was a doctor (like him). And it ended badly. I feel, intuitively, that we need more differences in order to make our relationships work best.

I remember him telling me, "When I get home from work, she knows what I'm talking about."

So, in a way, he tried to make it sound like her being a doctor was the reason why he went after her. But really, I think it was because she was a hottie.

She told me, "I've had everything done .. the boobs, the butt, the nips, the tucks." I honestly wasnt sure if she were joking or serious. (And I didnt care enought to ask.)

» Playing the Queen (of the Memoir)

I still can't get over that you might actually be playing Mary Karr .. that is kinda freaking me out. There must be a rational explanation.

I mean, I have you playing off of her .. vis-à-vis so to speak, and specifically off of what she said. But in real life, you might actually be playing her. Is it just me? Or is that not trippy? It's definitely torquing my head. (Maybe you girls are part of the Illuminati.)

We should all get together and talk about it.

We will all get together at the premiere and smoke some weeds and read some passages and quote some poetry and watch it together. (Dont forget the pizza.) It sounds totally bitchin to me.

Or maybe I could play David Foster Wallace and kick you out of a moving car .. how cool would *that* be?

[ Did you see Angelina kicking Brad out of bed? (In the new trailer.) How many women can say, "I kicked Brad Pitt's ass out of bed." ? I'm guessing that this would put her in an exclusive category. ]

» The Courage Required to Craft an Honest Memoir

I feel that the idea of even attempting a memoir is both brave and rewarding .. cuz it forces you to evaluate your life, and focus on critical junctures. And the difficulties found there.

How can you not have respect for someone who crafts a memoir? (Or perhaps people dont know what is involved until they try it.)

Anyway, the process parallels closely the cry of the ancients .. to know thyself. Which can be a painful, frightening process. Downright terrifying at times.

But it is only then that a person can craft a life that truly resonates with who they really are.

I think that too many people dont really know who they are. (So they dont really know what they want.)

» A New Place

This writing feels different .. I'm trying to put my finger on it, but come up with nothing familiar. I dont think I've ever been here before.

But where is here? I suddenly feel disoriented.

Oh, "here" is with Mary-Louise. (No, I definitely have NOT been here before.) How did you get here, Mary?

This writing feels outrageous and fantastic, yet at the same time it feels .. like there is an obvious of-courseness to it. Almost routine.

So I dont see how you can have those two totally different aspects associated with the same thing at the same time.

Sometimes you just have to run with it .. to see where it takes you. Cuz maybe it's a writing wormhole. How can you know if you dont jump in? (Where is Alice when you need her?)

When I saw you sitting there on the couch .. the voices started talking. I am not going to tell you what they said .. but sometimes I crack myself up.

» Intimacy

I thought about ordering your not-quite-a-memoir. I am curious about the level of intimacy you were able to embrace. This article calls it "deeply intimate."

Intimacy is an interesting thing .. wouldnt you say?

There was time when the mere idea of such a thing seemed downright terrifying. And even now maybe some of that same sense of awe still lingers.

I feel a pull toward your book because it deals primarily with your relationships to these guys. Which is like a memoir, to a degree, but even better .. in my often not-so-humble opinion.

And I read something that said you were nice to these guys .. in your book. And I could hear the voice in my head saying, "This is not the time to be nice to them, Mary-Louise .. rather, the time to be nice to them is while you are w.i.t.h them." No?

Now is the time for honest reflection. Brutally honest. An honesty as brutal as you are able to muster. Dear Fuckhead:

» A Truly Remarkable Thing

Beyond the beautiful things that people share sexually, and I'm sure we agree that they are indeed beautiful beyond words .. really getting to know a person .. and letting them get to know you .. this is truly a remarkable thing.

To what degree, would you say, that similar life experiences are more necessary than less necessary for two people to really be able to know each other intimately? At the soul level.

I used to think not so much, but now I think more is required. More similar life experiences .. which may be why I am always on the look out for someone who has had similar life experiences as myself.

I admit that, after diagnosis, I no longer think like I used to .. and things that seemed so important before .. now, not so much.

» The Soul-Bearing Celebrity

Speaking of intimacy .. I would be lying if I said that I wasnt curious about how that feels .. putting yourself out there .. with such a revealing and even an "intimate" book .. as a public figure. (Or do you go by 'celebrity' instead?)

I can only imagine .. and it feels rather naked to me. I dont know that I could do that. Of course, I would like to think I could. But I admit (from here) that slope looks mighty steep. Yikes.

Somewhere around here would be a good place to have an intimate conversation about the outer Mary-Louise Parker vs the inner Mary-Louise Parker .. and particularly the differences between the two. You obviously have me curious.

» An Ironic Twist?

Tho I sense that I am able to write so freely because I dont know very much about you. Which seems to contain an ironic twist.

And while I am speaking so freely, let me ask you about .. why it is that women seem to need to possess a man's soul? Because that is really the thing that keeps good men away from otherwise good women.

Is it an insecurity thing? Because you do not strike me as insecure. But even the strongest of us have our moments of weakness.

» How Much Energy Goes Into Maintaining a Public Image?

I am not a public figure .. so this makes it easier for me. But you are a public figure. Which I would imagine involves focusing some energy on your public image. No?

Energy that could be put to better use. I feel an aversion to the public spotlight. (Which is why I include abrasive things that are designed to turn away the merely curious.)

Or perhaps the book is opaque enough that the reader cant see thru very far into your more intimate spaces.

In the vein of a public figure, and regarding your profession in particular .. to what extent, I am curious, do you feel that having a job in which you are are a recognized expert (as an actress) at basically becoming another person ..

.. how do you feel this affects your ability to embrace the openness and honesty required in and characteristic of a truly intimate relationship?

I mean, this is what you do .. you become this other person, who your are portraying, who you are really not, and you become them so well and to such an extent that peope (viewers) really think and feel and believe you are this person. (At least for the portion of time that they are watching you.)

It is off-topic, but on the subject of embracing intimacy, I am reminded here of something Maureen Dowd wrote about Papa Bush and George:

"Even for a Waspy American family with scorn for introspection and a long tradition of fathers not weighing in, choosing to let their sons make their own life choices, it's remarkable that two presidents who went to war with the same Iraqi dictator can bluntly talk to each other only through a biographer."

Think about it.

Oh, I got distracted there .. musing about intimacy. And a lack thereof. So I was thinking about ordering your book .. to see if indeed there is something in there from Mary Karr.

But I would want an autographed copy .. with love, of course. And a lipstick kiss on the inside cover. And a faint smell of your perfume .. rising from the open pages .. where I would be doing my exploring .. of your psyche. And maybe even your soul.

But not enough so that Brad and George will be able to smell it .. cuz they will give me shit if they catch me reading a girly-secret book. I would never hear the end of it.

But then I thought, "What if it's really in there?" Then you are not just fucking with me. And that seems even more problematic. [ Then it means that the illuminati really IS fucking with my mind .. just like the Internet says. Kanye is coming in 2020, right? ]

» Is It Me or Is It You?

Tho I will admit, when I ask people, "Is it you or is it me?" They always say, "It's you, dude. It's definitely you." (So I stopped asking.)

And if I read you letters .. I sometimes find myself putting things into my own words .. what you are really saying. Or what I interpret you to be saying from the male perspective.

Those things usually come on their own .. when I am thinking about what I've read .. that someone wrote.

Have you ever seen that movie Her (with Joaquin)?

» Hosted SNL?

I asked the google if you have ever hosted SNL and it said no. [ You should be receiving a call soon from my friends at SNL. ]

To be honest, I am not really sure why I searched to see if you had hosted SNL. Perhaps it was the voice in my head saying, "If she has hosted SNL, then that means she is untouchable."

[ But more likely, I feel it would suggest that you are more popular than I am comfortable with.

Celebrity, for me, feels like crossing a dangerous street. You stop before setting foot on the street, carefully look both ways, and try not to get mowed down in the process.

Would you say that some loss-of-freedom accompanies celebrity? ]

So this would suggest that you are touchable.

I will admit that you have me a little curious, now. I felt my respect for you climb when I read that you won a Tony for Best Actress for the Broadway play Proof.

You know .. I just noticed in that SNL wiki .. that some other girl did a skit about you on the topic of 50 shades. And I can't help but wonder why they would be singling you out for something like that. My curiosity wants to know in the worst way.

[ I have found myself, from time to time, in various shades of gray. I doubt it was 50, but it was more than one or two.

This is my new, quantum entangling erotica .. that I am still working on, playing off of Anne Rice .. my own little tribute. Maybe even a homage.

You have to be in the right mood, the right space, the right frequency, at the just the right time.

And if you tune into the same resonance frequency, then you can actually feel it. (You will see what I mean.)

Tho I doubt this would ever be something you might see on SNL.

This may very well be my most experimental stuff. "What's behind this door?" (And why are you the only one with a key?) ]

I must say, tho, that having your name associated with 50 shades .. makes it sound like you are a naughty girl. A naughty, naughty girl .. who does naughty, naughty things. Very naughty, indeed.

Did I ever tell you about my undocumented Guinness Book record?

See .. when I notice these cool attention-getting coincidences .. these curiosities .. I am not even sure what you would call them.

But when I recognize them, I try to see if they vibed this thing BEFORE me. You know what I mean.

Now, I know you are probably thinking that my last chemo put a hurtin' on my ass .. and there would be some truth to your hunch. It loosened up the screws considerably. The screws to my central nervous system. (And I know that you probably think I had too many screws loose already.)

Anyway .. in my post-chemo'ed way-of-thinking .. if something is really there from Mary Karr, then that means that you guys (girls) are AHEAD of me.

The last person who I noticed ahead of me was Cormac. "Wow .. that fucker is waay ahead of me."

But this is what you would expect from Cormac, no? For me, it begs the question .. "how did he get way up there?" Is it just age? Years of living?

The end. ■

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This page contains a single entry by Rad published on November 15, 2015 11:15 AM.

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