part 24
Subject: so, this is a taste of my own medicine?
From: MackAttack
To: Bopeep
Date: 08/16 10:10p.m. PDT
Aimee,
Why don’t you write? What is going on? I’m not in a panic yet, but …..
I don’t think you should have homoerotic relations with the people in your house. They aren’t the right ones for it. If that day comes for you, it should be far more elevated and beautiful — that is, accepting of beauty. And cleanliness. It should be more like a Penthouse pictorial. And you know why they don’t like that. It’s a “man’s fantasy.” Oh, really. The entire world they occupy is a man’s fantasy. Lesbiana’s world is ruled by the most hate-filled and grotesque dyke who can snort the loudest.
Diana Morgan-Hughes agrees with me. She was in the grocery store today. I seem to run into her whenever I don’t really need to. I never liked her before but my tastes must be changing because she’s the same wry, arrogant bitch as ever. And I told her this, and she shook her head said, “Oh, that’s just my façade, Mack.” What do I know what façades mean in the human sense? I am always myself. She told me she always hated me, too, and I wasn’t surprised. But I felt it elevated me to her top high school clique for some reason. Another sign of acceptance lately, like maybe the circle-jerks of the boys of the top high school clique were superior.
This is what stunned me: “I always wanted your approval,” she said. Been wondering about that since, if she could be like certain composers I hated when I was younger but like now. I hated pickles or anything sour or wine when I was a boy, but like them now. Has anything like that happened to you, Aimee?
Why don’t you write? What’s going on?
Love and concern, Mack
Subj: Hi
From: Bopeep
To: Mackattack
Date: 08/19 12:10p.m. PDT
Dear Mack,
Your letters were amazing. I mean, I am overwhelmed, and don’t know what to say. I think it’s so sweet that you offered to let me stay at your place. I don’t why I’d want to do that, or why I’d need to do that, but the offer touched me so much.
It’s quiet here as everyone went to the GALA Convention. (It’s the Gay and Lesbian Association.)
—No comments, please.—
The funny thing, is that I really think it is time to move on. Maybe you re psychic? I’m not that comfortable here anymore. I don’t know, it just seems too crowded. Certainly, it’s never been THAT comfortable to bring people to visit. When I mentioned my thoughts about moving to Bo she got mad. I suspect her “pretend” crush isn’t pretend.
Meanwhile, on the nutty side of my life. Mom is now offering me half of what she’d pay for a Chinese baby. So, she’ll GIVE me $10,000.00 to have a baby. Cash. No strings, well, except being pregnant for 9 months and handing the baby over to HER. I wish she’d just stop it. I mean, it’s like a broken record when I talk to her. She won’t talk about anything else, at all.
My only hope is that the tension and pressure will make her explode. Is that mean to say? What I mean, is I think that she and that husband are starting to fight. Am I wrong to hope that maybe they’ll break up. I hate to say it, but it would be great.
Am I a mean person, Mack?
I’d better go. I’ll write soon, I promise.
Love, Aimee
Subject: it is good to hear from you, finally
From: Mackattack
To: Bopeep
Date: 08/20 2:10p.m. PDT
Dear Aimee,
I can remember going shopping with you and thinking you became confused by too many choices. Just think of my place in times of crises. I’ve got to be good for someone.
I don’t know, hon. Where is the fire in your belly for your art? You never write to me anything about it.
Don’t have the baby for your mother. And the guilt that ties you to things. Guilty for what?? You stand accused of telling all the high-pressure salespeople in your life No?? That is not a crime!
Your mother shouldn’t be allow to adopt a rabid skunk.
I knew you would feel better with less sales pressure around you. Honestly, I’m a little disappointed you aren’t coming here — but that’s my problem. Don’t feel guilty. It isn’t the way I wanted to live with you, either.
Aimee, I must tell you: there is something about you people want to hurt. If I tell you I understand them wanting to haul off and smash you, you will think I agree with them. But I don’t. I don’t like knowing I felt the same urge around you. At least I know how to restrain and not be spontaneous.
Others have it, too, a quality that draws attacks. Animals can sense it about you. It is not the whole of you. It’s just one part. If it spoke, it would say, “Here I am. And I’m just crap. Beat me, kick me, punch me.”
You don’t ever have urges to take sharp objects and cut yourself, do you?
This has been coming to me for a long time now with your ideas that you are the cause of the problems. And back to me gradually in memories of when we were together. But I feel too educated to wonder if you are cursed, as in someone put a curse on you. A bad spirit. The Evil Eye. Old time Italians in the neighborhood where I grew up believed in such things. And it is in my impulse to help you, though you thought it was stupid—art and therapy, sanctuary, bringing you into the light of the sun god . I just want to pull you free of Mother Earth, your own mother, and I know all she would do below is cackle and shake her loins.
Love, Mack
Aimee Is A Little Crazy 