part 23

Subject: A second calling to immunity and immaculate healing

From: MackAttack

To: BoPeep

Date: 08/11      11:10p.m. PDT

Dear Aimee,

I wish I could give you sage advice about Zoe and Martha. But anything I could tell you to say would come out of your pretty girl voice and skinny girl image. Maybe Martha wants Zoe to kill her. If you asked her directly if that’s what she wants, what would she say?

Then ask Zoe: “Do you want to commit a major crime so you can go to an all-women’s prison and get plenty of lesbian sex?”

That’s what I would do, but then it would come out of my man’s voice and image. Kev gets no respect because he’s a queen. And the others, well, they all have their reasons for getting no respect.

They like to parade their kinkiness on the streets and scatter the energy. But that’s different than the concept of The Man. The great god of the Muses, of light and truth, healing, music, gym-buffed studliness, who mainly likes girls but not exclusively .

I’ve been thinking about it, Aimee, that you can’t help being a girl and have that natural-born image problem in matters of being respected and having authority to guide and teach. I admire you for not stamping your little foot and demanding it. You turn to me because I am The Man, but please realize I can’t help but be that, either. It might be easier if you were here basking in my presence and hanging on my every word.

Hey, you should tell that my music composition is going very well these days. I’m in one of those zen-like can-do-no-wrong periods. In moderate amounts, hubris is good for me. Vanity is good for me.

Your friends are creative, too, but they scatter it. They spend the energy as fast as it builds up inside them. And there is group pressure to do that — to always be running somewhere to do something. But The Man contains and concentrates his energy in lengthy ponderous deadly silences. He is the thundering silence of mountains and Spanish plains. But if he holds it in too long, he looks like the kind of Spanish father who is trying to shit a cannonball.

It would be easier if you were here and I could demonstrate in safety what you dread: the silence of The Man.

I really don’t remember if you could stand silence, Aimee. Can you? Or does it make you nervous and bring on thoughts of your mortality? Well, you know I won’t hurt you. I’m not your killer or your rapist. I am your solar experience. I can make you all mushy and turned-on without speaking dirty to you or debasing you. Come to me, my child. Let this be a new crisis in your life. I won’t tie you up, but I might use the ball-gag.

I won’t tell you when to come to me. You will simply know when. The Great She within you will know.

Don’t think me inconsistent, Aimee. Think: versatile.

Love, Mack

 

Subject: Come into the Light

From: MackAttack

To: BoPeep

Date: 08/12       11:10p.m. PDT

Dear Aimee,

I thoroughly enjoy us vs. them, and breaking up into cliques and groups. Not that I ever join any of them. The Nazis want me but, you know, “been there done that.”

You have been given good advice about getting out of that house. And now it is a matter of following through. I mean, leave the house. Leave it all behind. It turns out they just aren’t your friends, Aimee.

So you made a mistake. So what? Don’t punish yourself for it. We’ve all believed in something that didn’t turn out to be true. “Us vs. Them.” It happens when you are turned into a “them” by an “us.”

Complicated out there .

You often said I was filled with self-importance. And? So what was wrong with that? It’s an odd view of the world to see people who are important to themselves and think they should not be. Why should they be corrected? What is the benefit, or who benefits, if people think they are not important at all? Why did you want me, your boyfriend, to think I wasn’t important?

Some might say you wanted power over me. But I don’t think that’s true. Then as now, you really think it will help me if I believe I am crud of no significance to anyone or anything. And you want to help me because you love me. You want to save me to your view that I am crud.

This is what you and I struggle with. I am trying to save you to something else. Who will win? I could fight your mother if I was in the same room with her. I am old enough and strong enough now to hog-tie that sow and ram the most pure and perfect righteousness of the Christian Inquisition up her anus. And though she may in her love been trying to save you to crud, and though her mother may have too and so on back to original sty, I wouldn’t care. I draw a line in the muck, Aimee, and see only YOU.

Do you need a place to stay? It’s just that you might not recognize me. I’m working out at home. Unemployment insurance is a wonderful thing. They send a check every week, and all I have to do is live on the pittance. I have dyed my hair blond and shaved all the hair off my body. It’s for my new period as the pagan sun god. Akiko has left her influence. That’s all right. I didn’t know you are pagan. Knowing your mother, though, it makes sense. You were raised by devotees of my antithesis, the great god of booze and deception. And crud. Your Christian bootcamp chums would call it anti-Christ and say you are spawn. I’m not so extreme.

When I write to you, whether you know it or not, I tell you things I tell no one else. I tell you things that make sense to me, and find they make no sense to you. But I tell you anyway. I may make no sense to anyone but myself.

You make a “them” out of those who create “us vs. them.” Honey, there is just no escaping it so you may as well like it. That’s as my wise Great Uncle Walter said about Vichy France. If it is inevitable, you may as well enjoy it.

This a concrete offer. Sanctuary in my temple. My couch, a blanket, and I won’t make any moves on you. I will ask only that you not bring anyone into my apartment with or without my permission. For with you, Aimee, the swarm. With you, the mob beast. Also, don’t change anything, or surprise me with something you believe I would like. Otherwise, you are free to carp at me and prattle. The phone might be a problem if you give out my number.

Now I must return to the Sarabande de Torquemada from my suite. I’m trying to capture that misunderstood man’s mental anguish. Think about it.

Love, Mack

 

Subject: this is growth; something will happen

From: MackAttack

To: BoPeep

Date: 08/14        11:11p.m. PDT

Aimee,

I had a blatantly homosexual dream last night but I’m not at all disturbed by it. I’ve been accepted, or . ?

Around it, you know what a free man does? Anything he pleases. And yet man isn’t free until there are things he doesn’t want to do.

You are troubled, Aimee, that you are not in a “live and let live” world. It is because you are not with free people.

My neighbors in the building could complain about my music, but they don’t. I get a lot of compliments about it. Plus, I know when to stop or go to headphones so only I can hear it.

The free world is created by free people, and you aren’t living with them. I really don’t know how to make this clear to you. But I’ll keep trying. You live with people who grow violent when they hear the words that describe them. There is one vile American word that describes simply all of them. But it translates to tyrant.

You could come here for six weeks and relax in real peace, in true freedom from the rapists, the violent maniacs who assault you , who burst into your space and demand you lick them, who trick you into seeing scenes in female hell and coerce you to use you as an incubator. And after six weeks, you would feel so good, you would run right back to them. That is the real mystery of the Eternal Feminine.

Mack

 

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