Dear Time

DEAR TIME

I see you.

I know you’re there.

I didn’t used to but now I do.

I feel you inching up on me.

Whenever I say “Who is that actor in that movie, you know, the one about…?”,

Whenever I get on the floor to play with the cats and have to grab onto something to stand up again,

Whenever I can’t do what I did before and don’t know what I knew before,

I hear your dry chuckle and see you move a little closer.

I know you’re there.

I know you have plans for me.

Well, guess what.

I have plans for you, too.

Plans for where I’m going to go and who I’m going to be with and what I’m going to do.

Plans for today, plans for tomorrow, plans for the next year and the next.

I can’t outfox you.  Can’t outrun you.  Can’t outlast you.

I know you’ll catch me in the end.

So come on, follow me around.

Come close.  Breathe down my neck.

I am not afraid of you. 

A poem of sorts

LOOKING FOR MY TYPE or MY CHECKERED PAST

 

My first boyfriend, so handsome.

He gave me my first orgasm.

At the time, I didn’t know what it was.

 

The New York Texas Jew boy.

(His description, not mine.)

 

One shaped like Baymax.

One who looked like a ferret.

One who had ferrets.

(Four of them.  Only one bit.)

 

One pasty and bald, but such a creative, quick mind.

Terrible sex.

One acne scarred, but so courtly and romantic.

Terrible sex.

One built like a blond Greek god.

Great sex, but we had nothing to talk about.

 

A widower, perfectly nice,

But the smell of his late, beloved wife

Was still all over him.

 

One thirty years older.

One fourteen years younger.

A Persian one night stand who gave me herpes.

A vegetarian accountant/horse race gambler.

 

I tried them all, always hoping,

Always hopeless.

What’s my type?

Who is right for me?

 

And now I know.

My type is a bald, bearded, brilliant rocket scientist skydiver who loves cats, science fiction, homemade macaroni salad, fixing things, making things, old time rock ‘n’ roll,

And me. 

My superpower

To be able to fly would be fun, of course.  In fact, it would be amazing.  It might also be a giggle to be able to be invisible.  And I've certainly wished I could shape my body any way I wanted to without having to change how I eat.

But really, if I were truly granted one superpower, I would want to be able to live inside someone else for a while, then come back to myself and remember what life was like for that person - or animal, since I'm terribly curious about how my kitties see the world.  What are thoughts like without language?  What do they think about when they stare off into the distance?  How do Sweet Hubby and I register to them?

I'm just so gosh darned interested in what life is like for other people.  When I lived in Los Angeles, there was a woman named Angeline who was famous for nothing more than having huge breasts and dyed blonde hair.  There were billboards of her all over the city, with her thrusting out her bosom in a way that would disgust a hungry baby.  Once when she was interviewed on TV, she was asked if her hair was real.  "Yes" she simpered, "and so are these", although the interview hadn't asked about her boobies.  I often wondered: who was she to herself?  When she was alone, facing her mirror, was she pleased with what she saw?  Was she satisfied to be known for little more than her bust size?  What did she want?  What was she hoping for?

What is the inner life of that screaming homeless - sorry, unhoused - person like?  Who is he screaming at?  Does he know no one is there?  What brought him to this state?  How does he see other people?

What is Trump's inner life like?  Chaotic and angry, always scanning for dangers to his ego?  Self-satisfied?  Scared?  Does/did he feel powerful?  Is he always hungry for more?  More money, more fame, more power, more accolades?  It doesn't seem possible to me that he could be happy, nor even content.  Is he lonely?  Does he have even an idea of what it might be like to have a true friendship or a loving marriage?  

And how about those people in politics and on Fox who have betrayed their own integrity for the sake of money and power?  Lindsey Graham let us know what he thought of candidate Trump, and then reversed his position utterly when DT came to power.  Tucker Carlson revealed under oath that he despised Trump and never believed the Big Lie about the election being stolen.  Do they and their like ever have twinges of conscience or are they caught up in their political shenanigans and just want to stay in power, no matter how many pieces of their soul they lose?

And what about my Dad?  What demons was he wrestling with that he had no vocabulary to talk about?  I would love to know what his internal life was like, who he was to himself, and how he felt about his choices and his actions.

But alas, no superpowers are being offered.  I guess I'll just have to stay earthbound, visible, plump, and curious.

  

Duking it out with Marjorie and Lesley

I watched Lesley Stahl's "60 Minutes" interview with Marjorie Taylor Greene, and came away from it with disappointment and rage, as a lot of people seem to have, judging from the social media feedback.

When are journalists going to start asking tougher questions, the most basic being "What are you basing that statement on?"  (As in "Excuse me, Mr. Trump, but you are claiming the election is rigged before the votes have even been counting.  How are earth can you claim to know it's rigged?  What are you basing that on?")  In the interview, MTG claimed with a high level of certainty that Democrats are pedophiles who are grooming and sexualizing children.  Stahl said in a mildly chastising voice "Democrats aren't pedophiles" and then rolled her eyes when MTG repeated the assertion.  Why the hell didn't she say "What are you basing that on?  What exactly do you mean by 'grooming'?  People are groomed to prepare them for something.  What do you claim Dems are preparing children for?  Prostitution?  And how exactly do we sexualize them?  Telling little girls to show their non-existent cleavage?  Asking little boys to show us their bums?  And you say "Democrats" are whatever, with no qualifiers.  Are you claiming all Democrats are pedophiles?  Some?  Most?  A few?  If you're referring just to the Dems in government, why don't you say that?  You've left whomever in the public listens to and believes you with the impression that all Dems are grooming, sexualizing pedos.  Is that truly your intention?"

And when MTG accused Stahl of holding her responsible for everything she has said going back to childhood, why didn't Stahl say "As a child, a teen, a young adult, a private person, you can say anything you want.  But you're an elected official now, a leader.  (My comment: Hah!)  You have a very big microphone now and a very bright spotlight.  Isn't it important to be accurate and specific in your speaking instead of making sweeping generalizations which are bound to alarm and anger the people who listen to you?"

It's been a while since I've been this politically angry.  Right now it's 3:30am and I'm writing this because I'm hoping this will be something of a purge and I'll be able to quiet my brain and get some sleep.

Postscript a few hours later: Dear Miss Green, have you watched TV or movies, read a magazine, been on the Internet?  Sex is everywhere.  It's impossible for children not to be exposed to every kind of sexuality.  Democrats aren't doing any special sort of 'sexualizing'.  They don't have to; it's in our culture.

Yes, there are young people who question their sexual identity and consider changing it.  (I know a good number of transgendered people, and not a single one of them regrets having made their transition.)  Republicans are supposed to be for smaller government interference, so can't you just leave this deeply, deeply personal, private matter to families, and focus instead on, oh, I don't know, finding a way to make health care more affordable?