Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, when Christian believers give up pleasures that are vices and pleasures that are pleasures, praying that the time between now and Easter, the Resurrection, will shed some light on the distinction between evil vices and innocent pleasures.
I was born 51 years ago today, a miracle baby as my mother, who conceived with only one ovary, before she faded from me would tell me again and again. In 1957 Eisenhower was president and yesterday I voted for who I hope will be the first woman president and I think about miracles and Jewish girls, one from the valley and one from the other side of the hill, although her father’s practice is in Sherman Oaks.
Monica Lewinsky may well have catapulted the first female president into the White House. Hillary recovered from the humiliation of failure of her healthcare referendum and investigation for shady real estate dealings and touched the hearts of millions because my sister Monica stuck a cigar up her twat. Monica is what every man hopes for. But she was so jazzed at having done the prez, she felt compelled to blab. Who wouldn’t? Monica is every woman.
And, Hillary is every woman. We put up with humiliation and then we get on with it, shaking mad with rage and fuck it, we do it with dignity and poise. Hillary is what every man hopes for, a woman who understands what a laughable but not totally charmless organ the dick is. Hillary gets it.
My kitchen is almost completely finished and it is my own creation and to me it is beautiful but challenges in a number of arenas I cannot detail here, protecting the guilty, led me to sob there this morning. Monica went on to make handbags. I own one. I am down and disappointed and frightened and humiliated. But I have made a kitchen that is beautiful and my heart beats faster when I hear my husband’s step on the stairs. My children are gifted and there are nieces and friends to love and be loved by. Here’s to Jesus and Hillary and Monica, innocent pleasures and resurrection.
tiny little text etched into her neck it said "jesus lived and died for all your sins." she's got blue black ink and it's scratched into her lower back. it said: "damn right i'll rise again."
.Craig Finn—The Hold Steady
I was born 51 years ago today, a miracle baby as my mother, who conceived with only one ovary, before she faded from me would tell me again and again. In 1957 Eisenhower was president and yesterday I voted for who I hope will be the first woman president and I think about miracles and Jewish girls, one from the valley and one from the other side of the hill, although her father’s practice is in Sherman Oaks.
Monica Lewinsky may well have catapulted the first female president into the White House. Hillary recovered from the humiliation of failure of her healthcare referendum and investigation for shady real estate dealings and touched the hearts of millions because my sister Monica stuck a cigar up her twat. Monica is what every man hopes for. But she was so jazzed at having done the prez, she felt compelled to blab. Who wouldn’t? Monica is every woman.
And, Hillary is every woman. We put up with humiliation and then we get on with it, shaking mad with rage and fuck it, we do it with dignity and poise. Hillary is what every man hopes for, a woman who understands what a laughable but not totally charmless organ the dick is. Hillary gets it.
My kitchen is almost completely finished and it is my own creation and to me it is beautiful but challenges in a number of arenas I cannot detail here, protecting the guilty, led me to sob there this morning. Monica went on to make handbags. I own one. I am down and disappointed and frightened and humiliated. But I have made a kitchen that is beautiful and my heart beats faster when I hear my husband’s step on the stairs. My children are gifted and there are nieces and friends to love and be loved by. Here’s to Jesus and Hillary and Monica, innocent pleasures and resurrection.
tiny little text etched into her neck it said "jesus lived and died for all your sins." she's got blue black ink and it's scratched into her lower back. it said: "damn right i'll rise again."
.Craig Finn—The Hold Steady
1 comment:
Although Mr Finn's Irish Catholic I cannot stand his barroom bellow. Still, evocative image, ok? And, kudos to your link between possibly our future prez & the Divine Miss M. You should find her e-mail and send this to Monica-- maybe via Adele's doctor? It's a clever link that Heeb or the Forward might also be tickled by.
And, as you proudly proclaim your jubilee plus one, I totter here before collapsing into bed sick thanks to a deadly combo of sniffling students and subways full o'germs. To wish you a happiest birthday in a considerably harrowing year behind you and a wonderful new kitchen and future ahead for us all. I love you-- beyond the usual xxx me.
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