Hah, I wrote this feathery, long, dreary, complicated post earlier, and when my computer suddenly signed off I lost it. There were some pleasing sentences in there. Oh la, too bad, it wasn't meant to be.
Scott just left. I wish he were still here but he wasn't feeling well so I'm just sitting here missing him and feeling hot, lonely, and a little blue. I massaged my man with some nice body products from Lush Canada, which was loving and fun. Mmm mmm I smell so good I want to eat me. The sad thing is that this scent is driving me mad with lust and I have no one to play with.
Beau is sleeping in my room, and I'm here paying off debts, going through mail, listening to the radio, (Art Bell as usual, something about gyro/centrifigal force, interesting n'est pas?), and sucking up images on eBay. I get so much pleasure out of doing this. Beautiful, wonderful, vintage images, free for the taking. I worry someone will read this someday and cart me off for image theft, but I suppose there are worse crimes than right click save as. Plus I think of myself as the Robin Hood of image thievery because I love to share them so that pleases me.
I've been taking pain pills every day for almost two weeks now. Uh oh. Not good. An addiction well into the making. My Mom got a huge batch of pain pills and didn't want them, so of course I took them off her hands. Danger, danger, Vicodin and Oxycontin take the pain away and make me feel goooood. I don't take more than one or two a day but that's enough to become a problem. I'm worried I'll turn in to Winona Ryder and wander in to Saks with an urge to stuff things down my pants. In the back of my mind is this little voice of shame that is shouting, "You horrible monster, taking pain pills from someone with cancer, how low can you get?" Not that she wanted them, but it still feels crappy and sketchy and reminds me of Igby Goes Down, which I hated by the way.
Two confessed crimes in one post, should I round this out for an odd but satisfying three? I can't think of one. Oh wait yes I can, my freak out over Mother's telling me that I could take money from my trust to buy a new car. My Jeep is seven years old and the repair bills are becoming more expensive and coming with increased regularity. I finally persuaded her to allow me to buy a new car with my own money. She said yes yesterday. She said yes this morning. So I thought it was a go and contacted the broker who has my money. When Mr. I Want To Keep Jacqui's Money at Charles Schwab called Mom to confirm she even said yes to him, and it was a go, but because he's so fucking anal, he just had to call her one more time, and that's when she flipped. "You'll just have to take your three big dogs to the park in my old Jaguar." Spot the ridiculous word in that sentence. Yeah, that's right, that one.
She always does this, plays keep away with money. It's no wonder I'm so screwed up financially. I should be completely prepared for it by now. You want this? Jump, jump, jump higher. Okay you can have it, no, wait I'm freaking out, this means I'll have to part with some money, aaaaaaaa, money, money, money, money, noooooooooo, I've changed my mind, click. The only difference from my dread childhood, when the things at stake were spend-the-nights at my friend's house, trips to Disneyland, or a new pair of platform shoes, to now, is the size of the item. Is it any wonder I hated a movie about a sensitive, spoiled, lost child, and his narcissistic pill popping mother, overindulged, wealthy people, adrift in New York and the Hamptons? It just reminded me too damned much of my own life. The whole Jewish/Christian, wives/mistresses, cold, abusive parents, and their long-suffering children, people with money vs artists thing, was too restimulating for me. I don't even like talking about this, it feels so slimy and shameful. God, I have got to find a job and regain my independence. I am way too old to be doing this dance.
I watched a movie last night on cable that I really liked, Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison. It was an old movie with Robert Mitchum and Deborah Kerr about a marine and a nun stranded on a Pacific Island occupied by the Japanese during World War II. They have to hide from the Japanese in this cave and sneak in and out of camp for provisions. It even had one of those, "Sorry Mam I had to get you out of those wet clothes, you were delirious with fever," scenes. I don't know, it just had all the right symbolism for me, and was so sexy. Robert Mitchum with a scruffy beard had a sort of Russell Crowe hotness factor, and then you add a nun in a full habit and, well, you know how I am about nuns, I just really enjoyed it. Maybe I liked it so much because it was directed by John Huston, or maybe it was because I was flying high with my pain receptors set to low.
Well, I'm off. Love you guys, your pal, Wacqui. XOXOXO
PS: I just heard on the radio that a man in Bel Air shot his wife and then shot himself on Sunday night, but no one found them until yesterday when their little five year old son finally figured out how to call for help. How evil can someone be to do something like that when they have a little boy, and to leave him alone in the house? God, it's just so cruel. Although thank God he didn't kill his little boy. I still think about Phil Hartman and his wife and children, and what a tragedy that was. Is it just me or is the world becoming more evil? Come on you guys, it can't just be that we have bigger better media, and that this has been going on all along, on this kind of scale, but we just weren't informed about it?