Just heard an ad for Moses Asch’s Folkway Collection. Every recording he has made is in the Smithsonian and can now be downloaded. Omigod I lived with a man who made two records for Folkways and can be forever downloaded. The future is here. Soon all our lives will be available forever somewhere.
Should think of a good name for the bum. After all this time, I no longer blame him for every problem that’s happened to me, or to the world.
Things I loved about the bum, in the beginning:
He cared about the world
He was compassionate
He had a sense of humor–though not the best sense of humor I have known in a man I lived with
He was adorable
We looked like each other
He told me the worse joke that I have ever heard, and I couldn’t stop laughing
He was filled with schemes and grandiose plans.
He borrowed $10 from the first man I had ever loved to take me out
He had two albums out before he was 25
His song lyrics were exceptional, she thought when in much lust
The first man I had ever really loved and a singer then just called Lucinda played matchmakers.
He adored my family
He made me see The Jerk
Underneath it all, he was the sexiest man I have ever known
He made me feel like the most beautiful sexiest woman in the world, ever.
He loved my friends, especially Lucia.
He tolerated double dating with Shelby. This wasn’t usual.
He introduced me to some really cool people.
He was from New Orleans, and he was Jewish. This was very important to my parents.
I knew a girl he had gone to high school with. We both hated her. My dad knew this girl’s father and grandfather and hated them.
He loved my family, and liked spending time with them more than I did.
He was very sexy.
He was a rebel rocker/folkie
He introduced me to the music of Tom Waits, and actually exchanged phone calls with him
Sex was magical.
He so believed in me.
He cared about my opinions.
He made me feel safe.
We could spend days alone together and never get bored
He tried to make me stop feeling guilty about everything.
We looked like we belonged together.
Sex was incredible.
He let the world know how he lusted for me.
I’m trying to put this story together in a coherent narrative because it deserves to be told languidly and with truth. He has a name. I can no longer call him the bum because I only called him that as a defense.
When I found out that he had killed himself, I went around for days, maybe weeks or months boring everybody with “I’m the bitch who killed…”
I wasn’t of course. People kill themselves out of a despair I can’t really imagine. Intellectually I understand that, but when you loved somebody, almost had his baby and then devoted a good part of your life too hating him, it’s hard to seperate yourself.
Bear with me while I work this out. This story is long,and I feel a responsiblity to tell it properly.
I might take breaks from it, and finally tell the story of how I became a charm school dropout. A couple of weeks ago I demonstrated for Lucia the proper way to bend down. Both knees creaked. Yeah we’re getting older. But we have had more interesting lives than Britney and Lindsey. Really.
I’m going to be away for a couple of weeks, but will have laptop. Then there is the first ever Savage family reunion. I just know that fave sis will tell everybody I have a blog and it’s called Courting….And then I’ll feel funny talking about them. But I will.
I’m trying to think of a good name for the bum; it has to be a ’50’s name; and suitable for a New Orleans Jew. This is the kind of detail that bogs me down, and stops me from actually getting to a second draft and submitting my work places. Open to all suggestions.