August 29th, 2000

Chalkboard

Severed Heads, Burning Man, and My Hair!


Image by Julian Axolotl aka Supersnail, my favorite BM Photographer.

Hi Everyone,
I have so much to catch you up on, so much to say, but I'm
leaving in two days for Burning Man and I feel so anxious
and pressured because there is so much left to do before we
leave. ( I forgot to mention that I managed to find a way
to pull it off, less time and smaller RV.) The Los Angeles
Times had a huge three page article about it today. My
eighty something year old mother is a news-aholic so of
course she read it, and it would be the kind of article
that focuses on the vast numbers of people who attend and
how an event of that size won't be able to sustain itself
for much longer without something terrible happening. Ooooh
shivers. They mentioned a couple of tragic fatalities that
occurred in previous years from reckless and poor driving,
so she latched onto that and lectured me on the dangers of
driving at night.

I finally figured out what I want to do with my hair and
have to go bleach it right now or I'll never get any sleep.
I'm going to bleach it out, then dye it a wild red, or
several wild reds, and then tomorrow this nice gal, Benita, is going
to braid different sized braids through it in more weird
colors, then I'm going to glue red and white rhinestones
into it, snap some flower things through the braids, and
spray red glitter all over that, phew.

I started out wanting to do a pretty mermaidy blue and sea green thing
but didn't want to bleach my hair too badly so I changed my
mind and thought I was going to go black with Barbie doll
heads and then I somehow ended up with the red hair plan. I
have to go by anacam and see if any of my pals their had
any hair advice for me. I posted a query in my favorite
forum there.

My truly rotten and very corrupt ex, who I simply cannot
stop loving and feeling hurt by, (and for my partner Scott who reads this, I
don't mean can't stop being in love with, but rather can't
stop feeling love for), has decided to take the high road
and sue me for alimony, after two years of separation.
Alimony, child support, joint legal and physical custody of
our ten year old son, and a division of community property,
and any remaining outstanding debts. Hunh? What property,
what debts?

Well, that's pretty. First off, he's been gone for over two
years. After sixteen years, and in the middle of a major
house remodel, that he was the general contractor on, being
paid by my mother, he ran off with a crazy, (and I'm not
exaggerating here by any means), meth head, stripper gal,
who he married in the lovely state of Nevada, without
bothering to get a divorce from me first. Details, details.

Since that time he was homeless and living in his car, then
he moved up to motels, then he lived with his mother, who
kicked him out when she overheard his sweetheart
blackmailing him with bigamy charges. Then he lived in our
rent-a home, and then on the couch at the remodel, then
back to his car and finally back to his mommy's where he
has remained to this day. Griping about the four hundred
dollar a month rent his mother charges him, for a large
private bed and bath, and a Jacuzzi where he can get drunk
and screw whoever he likes.

In all this time he hasn't given us one dime of child
support or ever offered any help
in caring for our son. He continues to be a completely
selfish fuck up and despite the deep hurt and sadness I am
glad to be free of him. But this, this is unconscionable.


While he was partying with his latest affair during Spring
Break in Florida with money my mother had given him to pay
sub contractors for our house, I finally gave up and moved
all of his stuff out of the house. I gave him everything
that could possibly by even the wildest stretch of the
imagination have been his. If it even reminded me of him,
he got it. I didn't have a job and don't have a job now, so
there isn't any earned income to split with him or give him
alimony, grrrrrr, from. Conversely he had a license I had
done everything to help him earn, and thousands of dollars
worth of tools we had bought for him. He was able to go
back to work immediately making over twenty dollars an
hour, under the table. I had some income from a piece of
property I inherited and my parents. But if anyone should
have been given money for support till they got on their
feet again, it should have been me. But I wouldn't have dreamed
of asking him. I wouldn't want it anyway. Screw him is
about how I felt then and continue to feel now. Which is why I
created my pseudonymous imajerk journal. But to sue me
after all this time for what, a sofa my mother gave me? A
TV I bought after he left. The income from a building I
inherited from my grandmother and have a loan so big on I
can barely survive on the remainder of the rent? And then
I'm supposed to share custody of my beloved son with a man
who drives drunk with a car full of guns. No, I don't think
so. To say I feel hatred for him would be an understatement.

There are so many stories I want to share with you and my
energy is truly flagging, so I'll just tell you about the
severed head. For those of you who don't know, I live in
Los Angeles, but my assistant/housekeeper/pal Esther lives
in hell, and I had to take her there today. As we were
driving down this little street about two blacks from her
house I noticed a crowd of people and a Police Officer
crossing the street with the yellow tape. Well, you don't
have to live in New York anymore to know what that means.
So I pulled over and asked some of the people what happened
and this sweet little girl on a bike, who couldn't
have been more than eight, told me that her friend had found
a head. She had found a head, in the storm drain, that had
been shot twice in the back, severed from it's body, set on
fire and then tossed into this shallow storm drain that anyone
passing by can easily see into. There were other little
kids around, lots of kids. And it just broke my heart to
think of these little children who live in a world where
finding something like that is so commonplace that it
didn't even make the news. To see their faces and the faces
of their neighbors who looked kind of dazed and
disheartened. To know that before anyone had even called
the cops, a whole block full of latch key kids had gone and
peered down at this head. To think about the meaninglessness,
the loss, the obliteration of any kind of innocence these
kids could ever have, living where they do, seeing
something like that. And then to think it didn't even make
the news. Well, hell that just puts me in another bad mood.

Is it any wonder we're all taking antidepressants. This is
one grim fucking age we're living in. One serious shithole
of a city.


Just yesterday I was looking at these unbelievably
beautiful, truly breathtaking photographs of waterfalls and
dense green rain forests in Washington, and thinking I
wished I could share these with Zuul, who writes about how
much he wishes he'd been aborted. But now I wonder how many
more severed heads there are out there, bobbing along in our storm
drains, like so many rotten apples at a country picnic? Am
I going to tell Zuul to cheer up, it's a beautiful planet,
get out in nature, or take some Zoloft? I don't think so. I
think he's on to something.


And now I'll skip merrily off to my bathroom, where I'll do
meaningful social work for the disenfranchised Blatin
(that's Black, African, and Latin combined for ya there)
American work force, abused and forgotten children, and one
very dead head, and bleach my hair in preparation for some
vibrant red.


Hey, if I don't make it back here before Burning Man, be
sure to check that fly by satelite photograph from space,
(I'm not kidding, check the web page). I'll be the naked
red head holding the very tattered heart.

Love you,
Jacqui
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