Monday, April 9, 2012

Damaged Goods

Today I was talking with a friend of mine who turned out to have a female Holden Caulfield. His ex turned out to be crazy. She too didn’t take her meds. We both laughed about the outlandish stories they told. I had actually met this ex of his. I mean, she seemed like a nice lady but she too went crazy. We wanted to know, what is it about us that makes people crazy? And then we both agreed it was our spirit. Maybe we are just wired to be a certain way, dancing faster into the wind. Hell, we know that no one decent will probably want us either.

Last week I was out with Kindred Spirit. We were having pizza and talking about the food in jail. I mentioned a friend of mine said the food in jail sucked, however the food in prison was much better. Kindred Spirit tried to impress me by saying he was arrested for a traffic violation. But how could he compete with Darren who actually stabbed someone, or Larry who has tested the judicial system so many times he can act as his own public defender if need be?

Finally Kindred Spirit said, “I don’t want to hear about your jail bird boyfriends!” Sir, Keith escaped from prison and Holden is on the lam. That technically makes them FUGITIVES! Kindred Spirit didn’t like it either when I talked about some of the married guys I have dated in the past. He definitely didn’t like hearing about the ex-fiance. Let’s just say he didn’t like my stories either. Actually, he called them horrible. I mean, what else was I supposed to talk about?

He definitely didn’t want to hear about the weather. Oh and let’s just say he probably didn’t want me quoting Sylvia Plath or Emily Dickinson. Kindred claimed he wanted to hear about my career but that was a lie. Men never want to hear, especially once you start to do better than them. I wanted to tell him to make himself useful and stab someone. I think I scared him away this time, for reals.

When Roger was alive he and I bonded over our love for bad boys and the fact that married men pursued us. We would laugh about it. As a matter of fact, Roger and I were both dating a married guy at the same time. We would talk about it at 2 am when he would call me with the latest barrage of his ever extended bullshit. Roger once even told me that during his stay in Sing Sing his cellie broke his heart. Before that Roger had been writing a murderer and sending him naked photos. I thought about getting a pen pal on convictmailbag. Roger however stopped his, telling me I at least deserved a guy who spent a little money on me, not one who depended on me sending him money in commissary.

My other dead friend Joe didn’t take my like for bad boys so well. As a matter of fact he came down on me hard. One time I was talking about some ex-con I was seeing and followed it by the tale of the married dude trying to make a comeback. Joe responded with a face to palm motion. Then he asked me, “April, do you ever get tired of fucking up your life?”

I know I have been a complete doormat when it comes to guys. There are probably a thousand and one factors. Some of it was that I wasn’t a very pretty kid. Maybe now that I am a decent looking adult with a wild streak they like me. As my mom tells me I’m a creative genius. The part of me that wants to create is the part of me that also wants to fuck up, and to fuck up boldly. Perhaps it was the abusive fiancé in my twenty first year of life. Yes, the one who hit me, called me names, and tried to take my puppet children away.

Since the passing of Roger and Joe, Roger especially, I have cooled it off with married men. But these bad boys still like me. Ross the Deadbeat Daddy stole me perfume. Granted, it was a sample sized bottle but he told me that he wanted me to smell like a lady. He also offered to rob the house of Dimsdale because he had so maligned me in a public place. Too bad he, much like Holden Caulfield, refused to support his children. However, I do believe Ross’s baby mama was a bit of a trash pit and will have children by many different men in her life time. But then again, where else does garbage stick it, in a can lol.

Yesterday I was going to Seder with my friend Bob when I began to tell him about Holden. Bob had no patience for Holden.  I believe Bob, much like my friend Stephen, called Holden a “fucking loser.” He also said Holden had “no redeeming qualities.” I was like pshaw! Holden told me I was beautiful damnit!

Seder yesterday was good, and it occurred to me that Passover and Easter are holidays about washing out the old and beginning with the new. I know it’s time for new ideas. I know I have fans that look up to me.  Fans who tell me that I am the reason they do ventriloquism, like ventriloquism, or sometimes even get out of bed in the morning. Maybe it’s time for me to give up the jail birds once and for all.

On the other hand, who the hell is gonna want me? I know I am no prized package. My love life reads like a script from a Lifetime Movie. There is the psychotic ex-fiance, the prison escapee, the junkie, the felon, the other felon, the lawyer/liar, the illegal limo driver, Ross the deadbeat daddy, and Holden Caulfield just to name some highlights. I don’t even know how to act right. I am surprised when a guy has minimal track marks, has only been arrested for a misdemeanor, and has a job.

Perhaps though, Kindred’s Spirit’s reaction may have been a healthy, normal one to the stories some think are funny. Then again, the people who think those stories are funny also know which prison has the best meatloaf. But the nutty thing is, I didn’t want to tell Kindred about the book I have written soon to be published. I didn’t even want to mention the project being pitched to Hollywood. Oh and we didn’t even mention my music, a burgeoning new adventure. Of course we briefly touched on my spokesperson photo shoot.

But talking about that made me want to hide in the corner, cover my head and cry. I was much more comfortable talking about the shit that went wrong and the shitty people who helped make me possible. I know I have a role in all of this, and perhaps it is time for me to change my ways for real. I know it wasn’t just the drug and the long term health effects plus the black market plastic surgery that killed Roger. I know it wasn’t just noncompliance with his meds that killed Joe. It was the fact that in the end, much like me they liked the bad boys and couldn’t shake them. And I can hear them both yelling at me about Holden from the after life.

Still though, I have had some adventures and won’t beat myself up too much. Hey, I might be damaged goods kids. But Mama Foxxx is still top shelf.


A little racy but it makes a statement.........

Should I send this photo to convictmailbag?

1 comment:

  1. I think it's the city. Gotham does that people - you should move out west. Buy a horse and stuff...