I struggle to find a suitable metaphor.... "What," I ask myself, "is the softest thing I have ever felt?"
Cosmologists talk of a place where the laws of physics, as we know them, break down - where all that we see, feel, hear, touch and taste crash into the brick wall of the quantum - where "The Rules" simply do not apply - where cats are simultaneously dead and alive and phrases such as "spooky action at a distance" are not considered hyperbole.
We find ourselves in these amazing places only by letting go and allowing ourselves to become lost in the heady chaos of infinite possibility.
I find myself there and am surprised to discover that it is quite calm.
Can you not hear the slow and steady beat of my heart?
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
KILLING RAY
Jen and I were good friends. We were a couple, briefly. After we broke up, we still fooled around on occasion - usually when I was between relationships, but not always.
Jen is pretty, smart, funny and easygoing. She’s just a cool shit. I mean really cool. This one weekend, we slept together on Friday night and next night we went to a club with a friend of hers from work, Dianne. Halfway through the night, Jen tells me Dianne hasn’t had sex in over a year and that she could use some TLC. I was surprised and kinda flattered that she'd pimp me out like that.
“Are you sure you’re cool with that? I mean, you don’t feel weird sleeping with me on Friday and then me sleeping with your friend on Saturday?”
“Not really.”
There was no hidden motive. It wasn’t a turn-on for her or me. It was just her doing her friend a favor. I think Jen would have said the same thing if we’d still been a couple. Sometimes, Jen cared but didn’t give a fuck.
She lived in Lawrence, MA with her dog, a beautiful Alaskan Malamute named Mynx. Jen rarely had a boyfriend and always seemed most comfortable alone. She is often quiet and never loses her cool. Some people mistake her for a bitch.
Jen has a psycho sister named Mora, who is incapable of being alone. She is needy and drives men away. She stalks them until she stumbles upon the next poor fuck who gets ensnared by Mora’s legendary bedroom skills. But sex is not casual to Mora. She bought a wedding dress for $4500 when she was 19 and not even dating anyone. It hangs in her closet to this day waiting for Mr. Tux, I guess. She is a bipolar nymphomaniac who only feels alive in the midst of chaos.
These two sisters are both damaged. Their stepfather, Ray, regularly sexually abused them when they were young girls. Their mother is such a pitiful wreck of a woman that she accused both girls of lying when they told her what Ray had done to them. When she caught Ray with Jen, she believed Jen, but not Mora. I’m pretty sure that is why Mora is exponentially more fucked in the head than Jen. Years of watching your mother side with your abuser would make anyone come unhinged.
Their mother never left Ray. And, get this. They all sit down, the whole family, every Christmas and Thanksfuckingiving like nothing happened.
In all the years I knew Jen, I never met her Mom or Ray. I didn’t want to. I hated them both. Well, I hated Ray. I just pitied that poor excuse for a fucking mother who thought herself so unlovable, that she had to cling to the man who destroyed her daughters’ childhoods.
I used to often end up in relationships with these damaged women. I often did not know about the abuse they had suffered in the past. Things would start off great. And for a few months there was a great deal of fun, laughter and amazing sex. Then suddenly it would change. The laughter would subside and there would be no more rooftop sex or car sex or cemetery-in-the-rain sex. Soon there was no sex at all. Then came the chaos, the boozing, the blackouts, the verbal (sometimes physical) attacks. This would culminate in me leaving. A day or two later I would get the call. Tears. Apologies. Promises. I'd go back one more time, but it always ended the same way.
But with Jen, it was different. She seemed to have a handle on it. She didn’t seem to have any ill will toward Ray or her Mother.
Understand, I didn’t have it real bad for Jen. I just liked her a lot. I liked that she never had a boyfriend and I could just roll into town and hook up. Or not. She’d cook me a meal. We’d rent a movie and chill. I’d give her a massage and try to get in her pants and was never frustrated when it didn’t happen - which was most of the time. The fun was in trying. She was always a good sport. She’d never get annoyed. She’d just laugh and shoot me down...except when she didn't.
One night, we were not really watching TV. I remember it was right after Thanksgiving. There had been an early snow and Mynx was outside in sled-dog heaven. I was sitting on the couch, leaned back. Jen had her head in my lap as she watched David Letterman finish his monologue. I was stroking her hair, when I realized I really liked stroking her hair. I didn’t feel like chasing her around the living room. I just wanted to stroke her hair like that. We weren’t in love, we were just, you know...really comfortable with each other. But at that moment, I loved this girl. As I watched her lashes kiss her face with each blink and felt each breath enter her body, I loved her more. And I loved the child she was before I met her. And I stroked her hair and without looking at her, I asked what I had always wondered.
“Thanksgiving. How can you sit at the same table as Ray?”
She took half a breath and as she exhaled, the words just seeped out of her mouth and spilled on the carpet like blood.
“It just doesn’t bother me anymore.”
That was when I decided to kill Ray.
Jen is pretty, smart, funny and easygoing. She’s just a cool shit. I mean really cool. This one weekend, we slept together on Friday night and next night we went to a club with a friend of hers from work, Dianne. Halfway through the night, Jen tells me Dianne hasn’t had sex in over a year and that she could use some TLC. I was surprised and kinda flattered that she'd pimp me out like that.
“Are you sure you’re cool with that? I mean, you don’t feel weird sleeping with me on Friday and then me sleeping with your friend on Saturday?”
“Not really.”
There was no hidden motive. It wasn’t a turn-on for her or me. It was just her doing her friend a favor. I think Jen would have said the same thing if we’d still been a couple. Sometimes, Jen cared but didn’t give a fuck.
She lived in Lawrence, MA with her dog, a beautiful Alaskan Malamute named Mynx. Jen rarely had a boyfriend and always seemed most comfortable alone. She is often quiet and never loses her cool. Some people mistake her for a bitch.
Jen has a psycho sister named Mora, who is incapable of being alone. She is needy and drives men away. She stalks them until she stumbles upon the next poor fuck who gets ensnared by Mora’s legendary bedroom skills. But sex is not casual to Mora. She bought a wedding dress for $4500 when she was 19 and not even dating anyone. It hangs in her closet to this day waiting for Mr. Tux, I guess. She is a bipolar nymphomaniac who only feels alive in the midst of chaos.
These two sisters are both damaged. Their stepfather, Ray, regularly sexually abused them when they were young girls. Their mother is such a pitiful wreck of a woman that she accused both girls of lying when they told her what Ray had done to them. When she caught Ray with Jen, she believed Jen, but not Mora. I’m pretty sure that is why Mora is exponentially more fucked in the head than Jen. Years of watching your mother side with your abuser would make anyone come unhinged.
Their mother never left Ray. And, get this. They all sit down, the whole family, every Christmas and Thanksfuckingiving like nothing happened.
In all the years I knew Jen, I never met her Mom or Ray. I didn’t want to. I hated them both. Well, I hated Ray. I just pitied that poor excuse for a fucking mother who thought herself so unlovable, that she had to cling to the man who destroyed her daughters’ childhoods.
I used to often end up in relationships with these damaged women. I often did not know about the abuse they had suffered in the past. Things would start off great. And for a few months there was a great deal of fun, laughter and amazing sex. Then suddenly it would change. The laughter would subside and there would be no more rooftop sex or car sex or cemetery-in-the-rain sex. Soon there was no sex at all. Then came the chaos, the boozing, the blackouts, the verbal (sometimes physical) attacks. This would culminate in me leaving. A day or two later I would get the call. Tears. Apologies. Promises. I'd go back one more time, but it always ended the same way.
But with Jen, it was different. She seemed to have a handle on it. She didn’t seem to have any ill will toward Ray or her Mother.
Understand, I didn’t have it real bad for Jen. I just liked her a lot. I liked that she never had a boyfriend and I could just roll into town and hook up. Or not. She’d cook me a meal. We’d rent a movie and chill. I’d give her a massage and try to get in her pants and was never frustrated when it didn’t happen - which was most of the time. The fun was in trying. She was always a good sport. She’d never get annoyed. She’d just laugh and shoot me down...except when she didn't.
One night, we were not really watching TV. I remember it was right after Thanksgiving. There had been an early snow and Mynx was outside in sled-dog heaven. I was sitting on the couch, leaned back. Jen had her head in my lap as she watched David Letterman finish his monologue. I was stroking her hair, when I realized I really liked stroking her hair. I didn’t feel like chasing her around the living room. I just wanted to stroke her hair like that. We weren’t in love, we were just, you know...really comfortable with each other. But at that moment, I loved this girl. As I watched her lashes kiss her face with each blink and felt each breath enter her body, I loved her more. And I loved the child she was before I met her. And I stroked her hair and without looking at her, I asked what I had always wondered.
“Thanksgiving. How can you sit at the same table as Ray?”
She took half a breath and as she exhaled, the words just seeped out of her mouth and spilled on the carpet like blood.
“It just doesn’t bother me anymore.”
That was when I decided to kill Ray.
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