Wednesday, February 13, 2008

My redneck Valentine




All mysterious hints are sexually charged.
Like my lady barber' hand pausing at my thigh a lttle as she asks me to shift so she can get around me.
Lady is a Mediterranean knockout, but she has a husband and two kids.
Ah what the hell. Faint heart never made it with small animals.

Got a valentine in the mail a couple of days ago.
More mysterious hints.
The relationship ended 25 years ago, and still she writes. Wants to come over from half a continent away.

But one is still carrying a torch for someone even further back in the past, but last I heard from The One, it was "Don't even talk to me." And endearments, such as "Will you just f*ck off!"

My second- last Dutchess had sent me to her very own therapist. Said the therapist, "If you love something, let it go
"If it was meant to be, she'll come back to you."

Slugger the Biker says," If you love something, let it go. If it doesn't come back to you--hunt it down and kill it!"

Well, as a player in the game of love for the past thirty years, I have both waited and hunted.
Waiting seemed somehow like something a woman would do. But I waited and drank. And waited and drank. Looked in the barroom mirror and saw a phantom image of myself as a skeleton. I would be waiting a long time.
Says motherly restaurant owner: "Don't just get drunk. Get drunk and do something.
So I got drunk at home, want to the bar where my Italian rival was drinking, knocked him off his barstool.
Nothing was revealed, but I felt better. But Mafiosi are vengeful. Next day I caught him trying to set fire to my house. I called the police, but they just sort of played around with the gasoline can, kicked it a few times and said, "Hey, this must be awfully stressful for you." Mobster... and aren't they tight with local police? Punch out a Mafia guy and he'll answer real fast once he wakes up... Like a biker.
Damned if the son-of-a-bitch wasn't caught planting incendiaries in my attic.
But someone got to him first; he seemed to disappear, my errant mistress was now alone, but even then, she would have no part of me. Or, by this time, me of her. I really did let her go, hoping for all the world she never would come back. Weekdays with me. Weekends with the Italian!
"Your problem, Ivan," says my drug-addled Beetlejuice pal, "is that you came across a whole series of assholes." I caught myself chuckling. The guy was fried by 34. Never mind the PhD and the Juilliard music degree. Sometimes the bad die young.

An admonishment from the college where I taught: "We are looking at your life style."
Well, yes, but what resource is there after you lost house and home but to have a good time?
Good-time Charlie runs across a whole series of assholes. Um. Like attracts like?

There is an Isaac Balshevis Singer short story I can't find any more.

In it, an old rake comes across his original wife after forty years. She has obviously aged, is in fact, very much past her bloom... He hasn't had a hard-on for three years.

But he follows her up the stairs anyway.

##

10 comments:

Charles Gramlich said...

Was reading your post while listening to a song by Ozzy "I'm not going away," with lines like "I'll wait forever." When I wait, I drink. yeah. That.

Anonymous said...

That indeed, Charles.

And, as Ozzy might say, "Fok!"

Ivan

TomCat said...

After chasing females, and on occasion, being chased for 45 years, everything I understand about women fits within these parentheses. ()

Happy Valentines Day!

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Tom,

They don't say what they mean, do they?

Or maybe they do.

I guess the message sent is not necessarily the message understood.

Um. What did she mean when she said
"F/O, creep"? Lol.

ea monroe said...

Happy St. Valentine's Day, Ivan! ~Liz

Donnetta Lee said...

Ivan, Ivan, Ivan. My, my. Well, anyway, happy Valentine's Day!
Donnetta

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Donnetta and Liz,

Happy Valentine's Night to you guys.
'Feared I was into the loving cup or something and passed out early in the afternoon.
Loving cup?
More like hiccup.
Cupid's face in the wine bottles.
Exes and O's.

I told Josie that the gloomy Slav still waits. And waits. LOL

.........Where is Pam?
She gave me a Scot's greeting the other day.
Like "up your kilt, Mate."

Ooo

Anonymous said...

February 14th, 2008

Premier McGuinty's idea of removing the Lord's prayer from the Legislature may pay off in the term; just as his false promises gained him the premiership twice in a row.

A few months ago he ridiculed the Pope for his firm stand on life and family, the un-negotiable social values of the Catholic faith.

Having achieved such a position of leadership in Ontario, I wonder whether at his "first class" Catholic funeral, which he undoubtedly will receive in a few decades, he will have a eulogy expounding his moral courage and his deeds in defense of the faith.

I also wonder who the agents of moral decadence are: whether some politicians for their efforts at emancipation from Christianity, or some church leaders for their lack of backbone, or some Christians for their complacence.

Giuseppe Gori, Leader
Family Coalition Party of Ontario

Can you do me a Favour?

In trying to back up one of my directories I have made a mistake and deleted the newest version of a directory containing my Email lists. Thus I have lost many recent addresses.

If you have asked me to remove you from my mailing list, you might be back in. Please ask me again.

If you received this message, could you please send me a list of your contacts (name/ E-mail) who may want to receive these "Straight thoughts"? Thus hopefully I will be able to reconstruct most of my list.

Thanks.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Giuseppe,

Ah well.
It's Valentine's Day, sort-of.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

p.s. to Giuseppe Gori,

Omigod.

Premier McGuinty might upset the Humanists, who will now demand no prayer at all.

...Maybe consentual sex in the Legislature, in the course of which, it will be guaranteed that no gerbils will be harmed.