Tuesday, February 20, 2007

"Lucky" old Ivan

The lucky world has no shortage of Ivan pictures or Ivan stories.

Made sure I wrote lots, published lots of pictures, for better or for worse, and now all you have to do is google to find old Ivan.

But E.A. Monroe now wants our high school senior pictures and I just realized I'd used mine as backing matte for a better portrait by some American master on my wall. Actually its "mistress", some lovely portrait done by a Baltimore woman a hundred years ago. Shows an attractive woman in a Victorian dress, in a lovely flower garden fulll of hollyhocks and sunflowers. I dig sunflowers.

Just as well, I suppose.

The vanity of it all. Your own picture up on your own wall.

Like Mick Jagger stuffing half a roll of toilet paper down his crotch to make him appear, uh, well endowed.

Well, Mick Jagger is never overexposed.

Myself, I fear I am becoming overexposed. Says E.A. Monroe, "I know you, and I know what you did."

Did somebody install a webcam and catch me at it?

I am fast becoming like the raincoat guy with the false pantlegs in front of the Woolworth's. I think I am a tad overexposed.

I am trying to scrape the glue off my high school picture, but in the meantime I'll empty my "my pictures" file
and offer you still one more example of the poor naive dweeb who thought, as a lone political candidate that he could make it in a room full of Masons and Mafiosi.

But there's like running for mayor to peddle your novels.

It works.

Sold a whole whack of "Light Over Newmarket" novels--what other title? Gotta start your novels where you stand.
Title your novels from where you stand.

And then the novels you write after being politically defeated..

My novels usually go, "This is why I f*cked up."


"My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends!"


ivan said...

Note to Liz Monroe:

My opponent was--you guessed it!--an Italian.


EA Monroe said...

Hey, Ivan!
"I know you, and I know what you did." That's the note you should have written to your political opponents! Umm... but then maybe that's why they burned down your campaign headquarters?! ;-)

You should run for office again and sell some more novels! I'll come to Canada and vote for you. You are a handsome devil in those photographs you post!

Liz M.

PS -- we used to write those notes when we were kids and leave them about town -- "I know who you are and I saw what you did!" I'm surprised the Masons and Mafiosi didn't string us up.

ivan said...

Thanks Liz,

My "anthill mob" newspaper buddies took all the photos.
No publicity department? Work for a newspaper and you'll have lots of exposure by way of your friends in the business.
I guess you know all about that from the days you were a "stringer" for your local paper.
But they paid you in chewing gum?
Ah well, start early, I always say.
As for the "devil", I saw some high school pictures of you on your web. Baby, you were/are a knockout!
So, probably was Donnetta. Bet you guys were popular.


EA Monroe said...

Chewing Gum. That was the going rate for a 10 year old in my early days of being a "reporter!"

Hah! Like Erik of the Gazebo said, I sure do not like looking into mirrors!

~grinning~ We were "popular" trouble makers! Well, I better let Donnetta speak for herself on that one! ~Liz

Donnetta Lee said...

Popular!! hahahahahah. Wait, I have to stop laughing. Probably everybody thought we were crazy! Nobody acted like we did. Nobody!!

Yes, Liz was (and is) pretty. Big old eyes and long eye lashes. The most I ever got was "cute." That's what you say when you just can't say "pretty!"

Now, say. You rather resemble Arnold. I had to look twice. Still not sure which one is you and which is one is Arnold. Could be brothers.

Hey, remember, gotta be pretty inside. Donnetta

ivan said...

Notoriety. I guess that's what it was. "It's them mischief -making 'sisters'"?

Lord, If I'd ever found a note like that, steam would just shoot out of my ears...I mean, most guys are pretty guilty anyway, and finding a note like that would have them rip up their Playboys. Or maybe get out of their mother's clothes. Heh.

Josie said...

Hey, Ivan, you're a real cutie patootie...! You look like your sense of humor. (Does that make any sense?)

I guess I will have to play along and dig some old pictures of myself out from somewhere.


P.S. Hollyhocks are my favorite flower.

ivan said...


Me resemble Arnold?

I wish.

Must be the chompy teeth.

Sounds like the shenanigans of the
T-R-O-U-B-L-E Sisters were the talk of the town. Eat your heart out, Etta Kett!

My ancient mother used so say, in her own European way, "Pretty people are BAD."

ivan said...


I was just telling Donnetta that my old mother used to say "all pretty people are BAD."
I am positive that you are the exception.

I can almost see you now, in a wonderful sepia tone, a blonde Victorian maedschen among the hollyhocks.
(My German is better than my Dutch--but then you are part Afrikaans, and I have seen Dutchmen absolutely stymied when they heard Afrikaans; Not only is it Dutch, but it is part Portuguese and quite a bit of Swahili...the mind boggles).
Anyway, the girl in the portrait in front of me looks quite a bit like you, but brunette.
But then you were a brunette for at least a week once!

Yes, we'd all like to see those pictures of you.


ivan said...




EA Monroe said...

Ivan, your mom would have loved Donnetta and me! She would have liked Donnetta's Granny, too, and mean as Granny was to everyone, Granny was never mean to me.

Ivan, you are cracking me up over your finding a note like that and steam shooting out of your ears.

Imagine how Donnetta's brother Alan felt when we were doing our crazy best to make him think he was going bonkers! Hey!

ivan said...

"Imagine how Donnetta's brother Alan felt when we were doing our crazy best to make him think he was going bonkers! Hey!"

Ha ha ha ha ha ha.
Yeah, I guess that must have been about it.

I am positive my mischievous-but- wise old mother would have just loved Donnetta's grandma. I somehow think they were of the same ilk.
My mother used to tell me the oddest stories, some so ancient, I swear they were in Church Slavonic.

"A mother crow was looking for her lost young-un, who had fallen out of the nest and had disappeared.

'Surely, you couldn't have missed her,' the old raven mother was telling the woodcutter.
'She's the prettiest thing in the forest. You'd have to have seen her!'"

My mother would also recite the strangest poetry, not written down by anybody, likely going back to Neolithic times. Like the little raven chick at one time having a good look at mommy and saying, "You're kind of hard to look at."
And the raven mother's retort:
"And so who feeds you, who looks after you? Me. The ugger."

My mother married my father, a practical man, totally bourgeois.
He was a doer. Had no use for poetry.
She would do a "Donnetta's brother"
on him, but more direct, and more scary.
She would sit in the corner and sharpen a miniature hatchet.
Talk about mental cruelty and plain being bad!