interesting,
because in the short time I was in Japan with you, I saw that most of your bullshit wasn’t bullshit at all, but a
brilliantly found philosophy of life … you covered it all up with a good story
and laugh … your stories were riveting I tell ya
my charge had a paperwork emergency so I went out to see her
this morning. we always have a meal once whatever fire she had is put out. and
I think that she chews each piece of food at least 100 times before swallowing.
today it took her 2 hours and 15 minutes to eat 2 scrambled eggs, 2 pieces of
toast, fruit, and a butt steak. usually I have to listen to her normal
repertoire of stories, but today she had a new one. she worked at Monumental
Life in Cleveland, Ohio after she returned from Europe and the Army. she was in
love with one the insurance salesmen, Mort, a married Jewish man. she had sex
with him twice in the apartment that he kept in the city. did she like it, yes.
then he fixed her up with several of his single friends, none of whom Doris
would give so much as a kiss to. what happened? Doris decided to move to
Chicago and leave Mort behind. she said that he tried to keep her in Cleveland
and wanted to buy farm for her to live on. a farm? you must understand that
Doris is the last person I could ever see on a farm. I asked her what she would
do on a farm? her reply … have sex! she explained that it would be an affair
after all and her job in it would be to sit around and be available for sex
whenever Mort could get away from the city and his wife. she moved to Chicago
instead. I asked her if she ever spoke to Mort again, and she told me that
whenever she and Jimmy had a fight (the man that she married in Chicago) she
would call all of her boyfriends, including Mort, collect.
you
think like me. that is rare in itself. you look at story like me … finding
paragraphs of scripted tale from a few bites of porkchops.
My dad didn’t yell at us … he was just loud. And he would
get confrontational. He was always trying to start stuff. “Hey, you have a big
zit on your face!” We learned just look at him and say, “yeah, so?” The thing
is, reacting that way pissed my father off. He wanted a fight. The older he
got, the worse he got. My mom got sick of it and finally started to give it
back to him. Well, my dad got so confused. He’d cried to me, literally cry
because the man didn’t live a day that he didn’t sob over something, “your mom
has changed!” He was, in his own words, a classic in his own mind. He got what
he’d always seem to want, but he didn’t want that.
you
are very bright and should publish … but then again, i don’t know. that defeats
the purpose.