Saturday, May 5, 2007

Dirty Little Secrets 2 (You Must Be This Tall to Ride This Ride)

Beautiful Girl commented beautifully, after I also mentioned to her privately that she might consider this line of work:

nice- glad there was a turnaround, my dear. i might try it, but there is something that wouldn't wash away, though i appreciate you thinking that i could. i am too essentially hippy, too uninterested in modifying my righteous me.[...] normal boys think twice about it. boys who pay... same as being paid to make music. there is a large sense of control that is lost.[...]

[...]i wish you were here to share in the night and the moon and the simpler things which do not involve boys and caring what they want and don't want. don't forget, dear one. you are more than the sum of these experiences, though they are heady and draw the attention like an exotic city seen first by night, with its lights and its music and its rhythm.

you are more.


She's right. Parts of it don't wash away. I noticed myself identifying with the group "prostitutes" when hearing that the group is being persecuted, and it's strange to feel one's identity shift. (A bisexual friend is married to a woman, all his long-term relationships have been with women, but he still calls himself "queer" because "when they load up the boxcars, that's who I want to be with.") No matter what else I do in my life from here, I've been a whore, and that's an indelible stamp in the passport that must be guarded forever. Once you go to Israel...

But this journey has led to a spate of writing like nothing ever before and so far the cost is high but worth every penny. Because I am writing about it, it's not about boys. Even when I am with someone, I am writing in my head and that is something they can't and don't touch, and right now it's burning so strong that it burns away a lot of the ick.

If I had to sell 20-dollar blowjobs on the corner to be able to write this well and prolifically (and hey, it's ego but I know when I'm good) I would do it. I would do anything short of shooting up to have this writing, and that's only a limit because I'm afraid of needles.

I said to Power Girl(and probably blogged)when I first started, "the memory of fucking him is already fading, but his money's still in my purse."

It's not about the money anymore. It's that for whatever reason, this is the risk that stimulates me. This is my wooden coaster, looking like it's been assembled by an old guy with a rachet set, the tracks shaking overhead while I wait in line, the jolting of the cars so strong I have to ride in the front seat only.

At the top

of the Pepsi Max One (longest-tallest-
fastest) you can see Blackpool laid out
beneath, the map edged with sea

spreading across the shingle, spreading
across the world.


There's a reason the E-ticket costs the most.

7 comments:

Z said...

You know, it doeasn't matter what you do. Sometimes it matters that you know why you do it - which you do. But the important thing is that you hang on to your sense of self, and that you don't seem to have a problem doing at all.

I'm sure the writing must help tremendously, both for its cathartic therapeutic qualities, and because it lets you turn the mundane into something beautiful and valuable.

Kiss,
Z

Anonymous said...

The writing that's coming from your experiences is excellent, but what of the costs? Is the thrill worth having to lie to your husband, betray his trust and potentially put his health at risk? Is the creative product worth choosing to be an untrustworthy person?

A. Reader, Esq. said...

There are people who live and there are people who exist.

Better to be in the former.


A. Reader, Esq.

Ps: Nicely done Mandy.

la fille mariƩe said...

Mandy, you blow my mind. Truly. It's like you take my thoughts (like experiencing in order to write) and just push them to the nth degree. Things that are just vague notions to me, you grab and shake and pull apart to make sure you truly understand the essence. Well done, girl.

dexplorer said...

to be able to write this well and prolifically (and hey, it's ego but I know when I'm good) I would do it.

Yes you absolutely are.

I don't know if extraordinary experiences are always necessary for extraordinary writing, but I'm quite sure they usually are. The kind that more than specialists find interesting, in any event.

Mandy said...

Thank you and yes.

Anonymous - see next post :)

Tom Paine said...

Writing has always been my connection to sanity. As much as I love C. and my kids, if I could not write, I would likely find a bridge to jump off. Or something equivalent.

You're scary. I don't know if that's art, but you are an original. That's something few writers can claim.