Anne mentioned this just at the end of her phone call. Looked up some videos on youtube.
Sent Dennis three secret tales, see what his response is. Sally, Phil and Ken. Got some Hyalouronic tablets, see it they help my thumbs.
"And I can't look at Mr Winkelmann's eyes. I can't look at the black and white clothes that are moving toward me, then the clothes move away from me. " Fosse 128
If there is a time for everything (is that biblical in some way?) then is there a
time for releasing long held secrets after a suitable length of memory and loss? Release them from shoulders out into the ether? Is that the appeal I suppose of cold case stories in all the tv series? I usually don't like those much anyway. What is the point?
Blustery and colder here but at least not gray. Gray November tires me out so much.
S B. She went out for a hike in the hills around Denver one day. In her early 20s? Not sure of that. Car full of guys pulled up along side her. They ook her off the trail and raped her. She told me this while we drove home from a zen meditation retreat over in Woodstock NY we went to, Allen Ginsburg (with his fuckboy) the star. He then looked like anyone's grandfather in a comfy wool cardigan. Many of the people there had no idea who he was, had been. Sally was wise enough to ask for a chair to use during the sitting meditations. I tried to be full lotus and my knees fucking killed me. It was at a Zen Mountain Monastery which had been created by some guru from Manhattan who had left wall street to go zen. Chapel had been part of a former prep school, we slept on the old metal bunk beds in the dorms.
PH. He went to college down in PA. Went down a week or so before classes started. One day he was walking in the center of town back toward campus. Car pulled up beside him, nice guy in a suit and fedora, offered him a ride to the college. "In those days you did what yourl elders asked you to do." Took him to a motel. Tried to give him a blow job but Phil didn't respond. Turned him over and fucked him. Then drove him to campus, told him he had a nice ass. Phil felt like it was written all over his face, that everyone who saw him could tell what had happened, would just know. Had never known men did that to men. Retreated into shame for years on end.
K L. Few details about this. K was traveling somewhere, stayed overnight. Went to the bar next to the motel. Got pretty drunk, talked to a guy. They went back to his room and fell asleep. In the middle of the night or next morning he felt sore and confused, realized, remembered, he had been raped. Guy was gone in the morning.
Was reading a book in which this passage showed up yesterday, maybe that was a sort of "trigger" as the youngsters like to say? "A marine tells Handke a story about his homecoming in Red Wing, MN. "It was as if someone else were looking at the marine. At the same time I felt offended that he had picked me to tell his story to. Why was it that people always told me their stories? One look at me must have told them I wouldn't like it. But that didn't prevent them from telling me the stupidest stories with perfect calm, as if they took it for granted that I'd listen with the ears of an accomplice."
Did you go to a family feast for the holiday? We had a pot pie from Moultonborough Farms. It was so bad I went out yesterday and bought a frozen Marie Callendar one and we enjoyed that one much more. So much for buy local.
Keep praying to St Jude and some others that you will get your Signal to Move and hop on the train!!! Fingers crossed too. Must be one specific saint in the Lives who takes care of moving from town to town! I know I'll ask ChatGPT. Everyone is. Dave laughed and said it gave him a perfect schedule of times and actions for when he needed to do what to get the meal on the table. Of course, it says---St Joseph, and St Ann for moving house, and for finer details St Frances Xavier Cabrini or St John Baptist Scalabrini. (Now his name sounds bogus, probably from Naples!!)
Dennis had a perfect line in his reply: But you and I both grew up where we were to deny our own selves to fit into the norm.
The Handke "forbidden" or "censored" book arrived and I am reading it immediately. A Journey to the Rivers. Journey through Serbia. I had gotten the Croatian version years ago from our psu student who went over there, later came back to work in the refugee office in NY. His father Croatian who moved to NJ before the war. He's the meatpacker who worked in the big plant that made all the hamburger for NYC for years. The student a charming guy who brought a young woman back with him to save her from the war. She was then a teenager. They never married. He has never married. Did the blog about Croatian wine for a while, became a sommelier at night school and worked in a fancy spa in the Plaza hotel.
Heavy gray skies this Sunday morning. Snow today and then again on Tuesday.
\"an abbreviation of an abbreviation." Handke 13 struggling to say he visited Serbia with two friends as translators because media accounts (did social media exist in the early 90s?) gives us only these pre-distilled distillations. Must go back and edit the earlier post to take note that Cliff, the pro-Croatian student, spent a few years on the edge of the wars and finally decided in general disgust that both sides were indeed guilty of wretched behavior, terrible atrocities, war crimes etc of every sort.
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