The Niblets of My Mind

The only thing worse than not being loved,

Is being loved by the wrong person.

It just rubs it in.

He’s angry, wants to curse and shock the world.

Watch out, Girlfriend. You’re next.

Watch out for me when I’m sweet and polite.

I’m lying like a rug.

You remind me of my Mom when you smile,

And blame the world for your problems.

There is one lesson a woman must learn:

Kids and a mortgage won’t keep a man.

But they keep doing it anyway.

Forty billionth time’s the charm.

I get you. I understand. It’s not your fault.

But I still have to get my ass the Hell out of here.

I Never Wrote This. You Never Saw It.

When you step back and let go of the reins,

You may see the true power of the man.

That he can and he will and he is now.

Survival is his victory. Yes. Yes.

And people say no man can ever change

But he is but he is but he is, yes.

Imperfect, but honest and open, yes.

Thank you for letting me be here to see.

You owe me nothing. I ask for nothing.

I think I know better what manhood is.

In the three days under your protection

I learned the best things we offer in love

I knew what Eve felt when she saw Adam.

Though we are separated forever

When the jet took me out of the Garden,

You will always be in my mind and heart.

And the Earth will be better for your life.

Wrote This a Year Ago, Disoboyed it, Paid the Price, I Return, Humbled

You know what The Deal is. It means,

If you Love me, you will do x, y, z.

If you do not happily do these things,

You do not Love me.

It’s not that difficult.

Just do the x, and y, and z I choose

And what are they? You shouldn’t have to ask.

If you have to ask...

You do not Love me...

And so, I leave and have nothing but my

Foolish Pride.

But why does any of it have to happen?

What a lovely mind.

Those two lovely hands.

That I want to stare...

Does not require he...

Stares back.

But if I sit quiet and undemanding,

I will never have to turn my back to him.

Scream Feminism as loud as you like

Age makes a woman less desirable.

Weights, running, Botox, dye.

You’re still the same.

Read. Paint. Think. Enjoy your hard won Freedom.

Enjoy the vision of his lovely hands.

And ask nothing more.

How sweet it then is,

When he decides to share something with you.

Especially if it is not on that damned,

Silly list.

There Are Never Enough Cherry Lifesavers

It Is What It Is   

It Do What it Do

I live here.

This is my life.

No do-overs.

They’re done.

Move on.

Have a nice day.

Prince Charming

Is just a man.

Love is not

A Lifesaver.

And we only want

The cherry ones.

And have to take

The pineapple.

Because it’s

Better than nothing.

Waiting For the Storm

Hot and sweaty

Thick air today.

Clouds at last.

Mountaintops make

The rain seem

More profound.

Man has abandoned

His fellow

Man and

Nature

Simply doesn’t give

A rat’s ass.

Hit him with lightning.

Drown her in a flood.

We are no more

Signficant to Nature

Than the insects

We live with.

Atlantic Rain

Pacific Rain

Tornadoes

In the Midwest

Hurricanes

In the South.

The wind tore him

Out of my arms.

The water bore her

Away from me.

We’re alone

With the debris.

PAu 3-551-603

For better or worse, “Amour Americaine” is mine, copywritten and registered with the Writers’ Guild. Yeah, yeah, the title stinks, but the text is mine. Well, with a lot of the plot stolen from Edmond Rostand. It’s the first female Cyrano, so whatever one thinks of it, it can be stolen. I’ve heard of plays being produced without my permission. In the 1980’s, “Frenzy Witchcraft” was done by a bunch of eager acting students upstate who saw the challenge the parts handed them. I would have just loved to have been there to hear it.

Also in the 1980’s the Midwestern Christian circuit picked up my born-again play “Redemption.” OK. It was meant to be done in churches and I’m glad that I could appeal to people radically different from me, but I don’t like the idea that changes could have been made.

“Amour” is too big and too expensive to produce as is, but I demand to be there to cut it. This thing is good because it comes from my heart and says so much about women and the way we pretend to be liberated but are still imprisoned by Society’s expectations. We talk about the quality of our character and our wit, but our asses still play a huge part in our appeal to men. What’s love got to do with it? With 1,850,000 more women than men, men can get any intellectual or personality quality they want in the preferred package. Fact of life, Sisters.

And yet…our poetess will not be denied. She chooses to die in Roxy’s arms. Is this romance or stupidity? Is it Opera because it is happening to someone else? Maybe she has done enough and given enough and experienced enough. We want to think that our degrees and prizes and citations are the greatest value, but was it all hollow next to what Roxy painting her portrait meant to her worth.

I don’t have the answers. I just ask the questions and leave the audience to answer them and I think that old  PAu 3-551-603 does just that.

Red wire...blue wire...red wire....

1.

Oh, pray, what is the middle road between

Fatal despair and dumb optimism?

Some days the bright and shiny post is bull.

Next day, I need it to keep me alive .

The world was once on our side and friendly.

Now, it tries to trip us and rob us blind.

Weary from self-defense, I see no hope.

And yet, my life is comfortably set.

No matter age or illness, I am here.

Alone, I have it almost figured out.

Art and wisdom have seen me through till now.

And yet, I hate that nothing will improve.

Our teenage dreams are unattainable.

We must let them go and live life now.

2.

I’m sick of cleaning up and speaking nice.

Oh, give me freedom with none of the bones.

I’m bored with canes and shots and thinking twice.

I failed all tests of womanhood, I know.

It’s late too late to score the things I need.

Noise and music. Dancing. My life’s too slow.

We made sure that the rebels failed and died.

And now, we cower, terrified of want.

Enslaved by masters who screwed up and lied.

I hate these black on white lame epistles.

I want more color and shape and meaning.

I want to be atomic.  I’m just thistles.

A damned mosquito swept out of the path.

I know that I can do better than natter.

Study, damn it and do the fucking math.

Giving up all means nothing will improve.

All we have is what we are and no more.

It’s time to find my new, old lady groove.

Returning to the Play, "Siren Tears" Ebony to "Amour's Ivory

Sonnet 119

What Potions Have I Drunk Of Siren Tears?

William Shakespeare

What potions have I drunk of siren tears,
Distilled from limbecks foul as hell within,
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,
Still losing when I saw myself to win!
What wretched errors have my heart committed,
Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!
How have my eyes out of their sheres been fitted
In the distraction of this maddening fever!
O benefit of ill, now I find true
That better is by evil still made better;
And ruined love when it is built anew
Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater,
So I return rebuked to my content,
And gain by ills thrice more than I have spent.

I've Reached the Point of Survival...Nothing More

I’ve reached the point of survival home free.

Why do I feel so damned pointless and numb?

Senior Ms. Reinhard, retired at home.

Nothing accomplished and feeling quite dumb.

Friends all around me, causes ripe to pursue.

Warmth doesn’t penetrate my icy chill.

Who are you? Why are you? Where did you go?

What does this lame old broad want for a thrill?

Feels like I dangle between life and death.

Free to do anything but it’s too hard.

I won’t find Prince Charming or become the

Famous and  honored suburbanite Bard.

Stroke, a heart attack, or a broken limb

Is more likely my award than a Tony.

I don’t read. I write theatrical noise.

Her Highness, intellectual phony.

And yet, and yet, and yet, I cannot stop.

And yet, and yet, and yet, I soldier on.

Not clever, not polished, nor beautiful.

Perpetuating one Helluva con.

From "Redemption" I'm Proud of this Speech

Riza Gallagher, running from her past with her young son meets and marries a Virginia State Trooper and Born Again Christian, Valjean Roland, who adopts her son. She was, like many of us, a doubter, but the day has come when Valjean has been killed in the line of duty. She is standing at his coffin, alone. I have been murmuring this prayer for a friend myself, of late.

RIZA
I’ve spent the last two days reading the Bible, all of it. I would so love to see what you saw and hear what you heard! But I need your voice reading it to me.

Thank you for making Jesse such a good man. What did the Bible say, the mustard seed...it grows up and becomes greater than all herbs. It shoots great branches so that all the fowl of the air can lodge under it. That’s what you did for Jesse.

And for me. You have redeemed me. You have made me whole. When I was hungry, you gave me meat. I was thirsty, you gave me drink. I was a stranger and you took me in! Oh, Val! Val! Thank you! Thank you for your love! I may never be as good as you and Jesse, but you healed me. You touched me! I have to be the one to do this. I have to let you go, my Darling. “I am my Beloved’s and my Beloved is mine!”

(She closes the lid of the coffin. She cries up to the skies.)

Please, please, please, make it all true! Give him Paradise! Give him eternal life! Let me see him again someday! Make everything he believed in be true!

Amen!

That Little Red White and Blue Card

I was getting myself stressed for the July 1 arrival date of the Medicare card when it showed up today, June 13. It’s not good till October 1, the day after the Cobra ends September 30.

So many people, from my Mother on through the raft of hideous men I’ve been involved with, manipulated me by saying I was helpless and incompetent.

Up yours with this card and my bank account.

I am surviving very nicely, thank you. But that could only be done by living alone, without someone taking half or all of my paycheck while telling me that he was lowering himself to be with me. And for a long time, I tried to buy the love, but all I bought was an overcharged Visa card and the first month’s rent on my first husband’s new apartment to get him out of there.

Never again, boys. Never! I don’t expect a fat old lady to bag a rich man, but you are paying half of every bill and if you want a key to my place, you visit the lawyer first. Yeah, with 1,850,000 more women than men in the country, you can find someone desperate enough to pay the bills and take the insults. Be my guest.

Anyway, unlike the health insurance I’ve had for twenty-four years, the Medicare is mine and mine alone. I earned it while those bastards sat around home and ate my food and took my money and sneaked around with other women.

That crap ended in 1986. And that’s why I have money now. Crumbs of a man’s attention are NOT worth it, Sisters. Trust me, I know.

Couple of Random Ones

1.

All the

Pretty colors

All the

Happy endings

Won’t stop

The pain.

And the

Princes

And the

Mermaids

Mock your

Misery

Your wound

Is a deep

And

Subtle

Memory of

Sin.

No one

Who was not

There

Could ever

Understand

It.

2.

If you say “I care,”

Say nothing more.

No “therefore”

Or “ergo,”

Because

Nothing

Is required

In return.

If it is,

You want,

And

Do not care.

We Are More Than You and I

Accept the fact that absolutely everything has changed.

No matter how badly you needed or wanted it, it’s gone.

Be hurt! Be angry! Hold your breath and turn blue. Nothing changes.

There is nothing left to say or do except enjoy the dawn.

Millions and billions are in the same boat, no rescue in sight.

Still we refuse to sink into the water and disappear.

God and our right hands! That’s all we have and all we’ll ever need.

Refuse their temptations and pleasures and let them know we’re here.

Friend, if we can’t be the ones who live in the golden palace

Let us be the heroes who block the tank and make History.

We are free and we are rebels and we owe nothing to them.

It’s time to help the younger find their voices in Glory.

Our mistakes are the best lessons we can teach to other minds.

We can fix this life by accepting that the rewards are theirs.

Let the rich and the rulers and the bullshitters have the pie.

While we nurture and educate and give power to our heirs.

I don’t want to be bitter! Don’t want to be angry or sad!

Life’s hard enough day-to-day without rusty expectations.

A whining noise means that something needs maintenance and fresh oil.

And no one wants to hear our complaining emanations.

If we march, we march for others unselfishly, not ourselves.

And if we win, then we pray that the benefits help us all.

Rise up out of the mire and see the sun and the blue sky.

Take the hands of others and I promise you, you will not fall.

The New System

The first time I used the Photo Booth, I suddenly realized why some friends look so bad in videos because I looked like a wrinkled strawberry. Having a hell of a time moving the mailing list because AOL calls all the addresses I carried over as bad and Comcast won’t let me copy an address over. It has to be completely retyped. I have to get rid of Earthlink and I have no luck getting into the #$%@$#%@#% YAHOO to change my e-mail address on two groups.

But, I love the speed and even if I look like a dog, it’s fun to take my picture from Facebook and I just discovered that I can record on the Movie Maker. However, it has no tutorial so I’m on my own figuring it out. I think I’d like to try a short cartoon. It is cool that my Comcast e-mail is answering my phone when I’m out. And best of all, the phone is never tied up. I’m looking into Hulu and ITunes for television and movies and I seem to be able to watch Jon Stewart on Hulu. Just do the free until I figure out if Chase Bank has screwed up my IRA.

I’m up to 180 friends on Facebook and they are all delightful and creative. And this Microsoft is correcting my spelling AS I TYPE. I’ve finally watched all of my friend’s videos and I have to admit, Peter, that seeing them in one piece demonstrates their qualities much more positively. I’m able to watch the shared videos of everyone now. And all of this is saving me about $50 on the phone-cable-internet.

Still, though. I have to get out and meet people. I have to talk face-to-face and smell their scent and hear their laughter. I closed down the Plenty of Fish site. Too much and not enough at the same time. If there is enough fool out there, desperate enough to want me or compatible enough to dig me, it’s gotta be in real life. But the Internet is sure more fun with all this.

Fairy Tales Don’t Come True, They Can’t Happen to You

I was reminded that, when I was four years old, we received the first television on the block. In 1954, this was a major occasion, causing a party of neighbors to descend on the house to watch the single station available. Channel 6, Altoona, FROM HIGH ATOP THE ALLEGHENIES. Channel 6 had to carry a variety of all three existing networks, so I didn’t know from whence rode Roy Rogers.

Except from the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew that he would rescue me. From what? My mother was furious that two children had arrived at the ages of 18 and 19. My parents had no idea how babies were made and Grandma Boring, who had 12 pregnancies, advised Mom to only have sex in the exact wrong days of the month. Money was tight with four mouths to feed and I think that I was especially annoying as I was the last to push my way to the table.

Mom would regularly “call the orphanage” to come get us as we begged for another chance. We were spanked, mostly on the butt. And basically, even at the age of 5 and 6, we ran around the neighborhood freely, climbing mountains and going down the banks to the River. (The Conemaugh River that flooded during the Johnstown Flood.) She didn’t care as long as we weren’t home till dinner.

Mom and Dad fought. How they fought. I began closing myself in the bedroom and daydreaming. I daydreamed of all the males I saw on television, coming to rescue me, including the Monkees. I lost my virginity at the age of 20 to a date rape, which didn’t help. In my desperation to find the hero, rescuing husband that would make my mother feel that I was complete, I grabbed hold of insane men that no one wanted and spent the days daydreaming of other men. Only these were living men, and while I never cheated, I came damned close.

It wasn’t till I was in my sixties that I combined a real man with the fantasy and ended up making him hate me because he rightly felt that I wasn’t accepting him as he was, which was so, so true. I was trying to force a friendship into a fantasy and that could only lead to “goodbye.” Apologies, mea culpa. May you find someone who loves you as you are.

The funny part is now that I have this all sorted out, I am meeting real men and bumping up against THEIR fantasies, which no woman my age could ever fulfill. Still, I’m going to break this daydreaming addiction and try to see people as they are and accept the relationship that’s offered. Fairy Tales don’t have to come true and if they do happen to you, then enjoy them until the in-laws and the bills start arriving. This is 2011 and you need to be a team, not Prince Charming and his helpless Snow White.

Anthony! We Didn’t Fight the Sexual Revolution For This!

Anthony! We Didn’t Fight the Sexual Revolution For This!

Or is the only thing that matters a man’s ejaculation?
Over and over and over, one beautiful wife is not enough.

Does it feel THAT good, Boys?

To the point you’d sacrifice your career and your life?
To the point that you’d look for wounded women to be whores?

Does it feel THAT good, Boys?

What does it take to make you feel like a man?
How many does it take to make you feel like a man?

Maybe it does feel that good.

Sisters, my sisters, I know it’s a way to get love and money
But we need this man to save children and elderly from death.

And do YOU get to feel good?

Maybe, it’s all a joke and all the lovely ladies are laughing
Safe from their throbbing passions in the anonynmous internet.

What do we want for our sons?

To be so sad and pathetic and addicted that they’d toss away
Love and accomplishment, friendship and intellect and art.

For one tiny, sad cheap thrill.

Keeping My Legs and My Pocketbook Closed

I am retiring from Love having never really known it.
Once or twice I’ve seen longing eyes while I was unavailable.
Thinking I loved someone who was an unappreciative shit.

For ten years, sex was plentiful and easily, coldly enjoyed.
And then, the price to my ego and pocketbook became too high.
The men shrank in all possible ways and I started to avoid.

Men don’t believe this, especially if it’s their dicks at play.
No orgasm is worth it if we pay in dignity and pride.
We need conversation and respect and laughter to let them stay.

And face it, Ladies, it’s not our personalities that seal it.
With a million eight hundred thousand more of us than of them.
They can get what they need in a younger, sweeter and trimmer fit.

It’s time for the friends and collaborators to give us good love.
It’s time for me to be my companion and my own confidant.
No more noble understanding, tolerating or rising above.

Keeping my legs, and my pocketbook closed.

It’s About Survival

Forget about the dreams and fantasies.
There’s not enough money or medicine
To live forever
It’s time to deal with Death and poverty.

Whether you planned for it or not.

The Death of dreams and fantasies
That fueled this insane economy
The lies of children.
Who said “Worry about it tomorrow”.

Tomorrow arrived with a crash.

The ads promised that you deserve it all
Prince and Princess born to the middle class.
Why are you special?
There’s more involved than being born, I fear.

Failures cannot be fixed.

And there is no reason to start over.
Madness lies in demanding the rewards
Of a youth pissed away.
Contentment is the comfort to be had.

And that’s hard enough.

At least we don’t walk into the party
A hundred thousand bucks in college debt.
With no jobs in sight.
Sex, drugs and rock and roll was our war chant.

And then we settled down.

Jobs, houses, kids...take it or leave it.
Got a few productions, laid with strangers
And ate french food and wine.
Whatever the path, we can’t go back there.

We just have to survive.

Let Us Now Praise a 2002 iBook

Let Us Now Praise a 2002 iBook and the amazing crew at Catcom who kept it running. My MIS Department.

We are taking this reliable Mac, which was rebuilt twice and cannot hold the memory for 2011 programs, in to the shop to have its mind melded with the new, fancy IMAC with a huge memory. With the new, faster connection coming Thursday, I will have finally arrived into the year...2009.

At United Media, I received a new MAC that was killed or died 6 months later. It was replaced with the same machine, so I now refer to them as Bon and Brian. AC/DC fans will get the joke.

I don’t have a name for the tiny workhorse here. It has written a dozen plays and was critical to my joining Facebook. I met someone here and did the stupidest thing a woman could do and met him. I will never forget that wild and beautiful California condor. You are lucky to see one fly over head and even luckier to have it land before you and let you simply touch its feathers before he explodes again into flight. And it was here I said goodbye to him because that’s what you have to do with wild animals and wilder men. No regrets...but, never again.

The new MAC is a virgin, fresh out of the box, clear of old memories. Oh, God! Getting used to a new MAC...working out the kinks. I’m moving information into a temporary message site, praying I don’t forget anything. It is a storage place for my scripts.

But, with luck, this little guy will be my backup MAC, shaking his head and smiling at his goofy new brother who has no idea what the Hell is going on. This is my adventure for this year. And my big expense. Let’s hope I can make it pay off in all the best ways.

The Contest Is For...Something...About Ecology

Wood and Cloth and Glass and Metal

I remember when clothing came in
Wool or silk or cotton
And the boxes were simple cardboard
With waxed paper lining.

They still make waxed paper, don’t they?

Plastic
Makes the world go around.

Plastic
Makes.

If it looks like Wood, it might be plastic.
If it looks like Cloth, it might be plastic.
If it looks like Glass, it might be plastic.
If it looks like Metal, it might be plastic.

Clothing and boxes and dishes, oh my!
Computers, God! Computers and phones.
And now, you cannot destroy it.
And now, you can’t even burn it.

It is forever.

Some of it melts to become other objects.
Some of it melts to turn into gas.

It never leaves.
It is forever.

The most important thing to man is that
It’s cheaper than wood, cloth, metal or glass.
It’s faster than non-petroleum, too.
You make it in a mold and not with hands.

The rich of course, prefer the marble floor.
Food grown organic and cloth made of cloth.
The Mercedes must have a real grain trim.
And the botox comes from a...botox tree?