Ramblings

I found an old notebook and I thought I would share some of the things I found.

Written sometime in 2004 -

Some people think Americans are loud, obnoxious, and rude. The French have been quoted as calling Americans silly and immature.

Why not? We have a culture based on words like boodylishous and fashizzle. We wear big watches and use small phones. All our black entertainers throw the word nigger (a.k.a nigga) around like it's candy.

"Hi, nigga, what' up, nigga, where you been, nigga."
"I went to see that nigga Charlie and he says, 'S'up, Nigga?'"
"That's my nigga, Nigga."

It's just plain silly.

But let a white person say the n-word and all surrounding action will come to an immediate stop.

"Hi, Christian."
"What's up, Nigga?"
(Long record scratch) Eeeeeerrrt "What did that little white boy just say?"
"Um, er, I said 'brother.' What's up brother. You know, I don't even you you, my mistake, bye."
The little white boy breaks the land speed record getting out of there.

So you see, we ARE silly and immature. An entire race has taken a white man's slur and turned it into a taboo while at the same time making the word part of their heritage, culture, and identity. Well, I'm sorry, but you can't have it both ways. It's like getting caught with gum in grade school, if everybody can't chew gum than neither can you.

Y'know, the world isn't even black and white anymore. Boy, I bet that scares the hell out of the KKK. We've fucked around so much we'll soon all look the same. Then what? Who will we hate when we're all the same color? Guess we'll have to stick to religion.

I feel sorry for the priests.


Written sometime in 2006 - Title: 1,628

Nathan strode across the casino looking like a model. The style he wore was yet to be defined, but he wore it well. Nathan had been a fashion maven from the womb. In the 1980's, when we met, he could be Boy George one day and Adam Ant the next. The 80's had been full of fashion victims but nothing ever looked ridiculous on him. God knows the rest of us looked stupid and had the pictures to prove it.

While everyone else was conforming to grunge in the 1990's, Nathan stayed sheik. He skipped the Goth revolution but wore black like no one else. So here he was now, in 2006, looking unbelievably gorgeous in lime green leather pants and a black shirt. Yes, lime green. And no, no one else would be able to get away with it.

Too bad my vision was blurring. Tears tended to do that. See, my husband died two months ago and I haven't felt right since. The only reason I was still alive was because of Nathan. He made me promise years ago to never kill myself, no matter what. Damn him for the forethought.

The eye-offending pants looked soft. Nathan was crushing me to his chest, they were all I could see at the moment. Why we had to meet in Vegas I'll never know. I'm pretty sure I hold the record for being the one person in Vegas with the least desire to party. I couldn't gamble without thinking of my husband. Shows didn't interest me, and I didn't want to be around people. All I wanted to do was drink and I could do that anywhere. I'd been doing it at home just fine. Nathan pulled me away from him and took a good, long look.

"You look like shit," he said. I think this is why I loved this man. Honesty is so hard to find.

"Thanks. Nice to know I look how I feel."

He hugged me again and started walking towards the bar. I looked around and saw trees. Trees on the inside? "Where are we?" I asked.

"New York, New York. You said it was your favorite."

Yes, it was. I had taken the trees for granted. How detached am I? I'd done that a lot lately, slipping into my mental prison and shutting out the outside world. We walked through the slot machines and black-jack tables towards Gallaghers. I stopped. My husband and I had gone to Gallaghers on our honeymoon. Could I go in there? Nathan hugged me closer to his side.

"All your memories are going to change, Hon. You can't avoid it. But we can go somewhere else if you want."

"No," I tried to smile. "It will be nice to think of him." My insides were being ground into dust by shards of glass, but hey, it would be fine. Just fine. For the 1,625th time that day I thought of my death. Yeah, I'm just fine.

Nathan had a table reserved in the darkest corner possible. How he could pull strings this far from Los Angeles was a mystery. Nathan had started off his career as an actor. Somehow he started making more deals than movies and soon became a powerful man in Hollywoodland. I didn't quite know what he did, and so well, but I'm pretty sure most of is is legal. Ok, maybe half. When Nathan wanted something he got it, no matter how long it took.

I had a glass of Riesling in my hand before a word was spoken. I hadn't tasted a good, expensive wine in a long time. My husband and I lived simply. Or, we had. Hubby didn't admire money like most in his profession. He had been a film editor. A good one. Everyone loved and missed him.

1,626.

My husband sat in an urn in my bedroom back in St. Louis. I had thought of bringing him with me, but enough people thought I was crazy without me having to prove them right. Besides, he hadn't like Vegas as much as I had. Nathan was saying something.

"I have tickets for O this evening."
"That's still playing? What's it been, 6 years. I thought Cirque de Solel had a new show."
"They do, but O is still going strong. Cheryl is in it now."
"Really, how wonderful, when did that happen." Cheryl was Nathan's ex-girlfriend, one of the many. None of them ever stuck, but none of them ever left unhappy. They always seemed to become friends. I couldn't imagine how Nathan managed it. Every ex-boyfriend of mine had become a bitter enemy. I didn't miss any of them. Maybe that was kept the girls friendly, Nathan was a great person to know weather you were sleeping with him or not. Come to think of it, I'm an ex-girlfriend.

Damn, I had almost forgotten.

I was Nathan's first love. We had been 15, so many moons ago when the world was still fresh and nothing could stop us. A lot had changed since then. Nathan and my husband knew each other back then as well. Maybe that's why I accepted his invitation for company when I had rejected so many others. That, and Nathan knew I wasn't going to kill myself. Everyone else hovered over me like mother hens. I wanted to slit my wrists just to give them something to do.

I wasn't hungry but I knew Nathan would make me eat. Everyone wanted me to eat. I had lost twenty pounds on the Mourning Diet, but I wouldn't recommend it to anyone.

"Cheryl has been with O for the last six months. I hear she's doing very well," Nathan was saying. He held his glass up and looked through it at the candle on the table.

"You get her to job?" I asked. He simply smiled. "You're good at that," I finished.

"Yes, I am." He was being cryptic again. Nathan just loved being cryptic.

"Is that why you invited me here? To get me a job?"

He didn't even have the notion to look sheepish. "I do have a job for you, but only if you want it."

The waiter chose that moment to take our order. I was glad, I needed to avoid the topic. I was going to Savannah, Georgia, after this little trip to lick my wounds and drown in a bottle. No one was going to stop me. After the waiter left I commented on his latest acquisition - a sporty red convertible of some kind with lots of gadgets. "I'll let you change the subject," He smirked. "For now."

Uh-oh, Nathan had an agenda. Once he had one he kept at it like a pit bull. What Nathan wanted, Nathan got. Right then what I wanted was another glass of wine.

The show was spectacular. Cheryl did a phenomenal job. We sat in our private area watching the regular people exit from the building. Every male with short brown hair and a goatee made me wince. Did so many people have to look like my dead husband?

1,627.

"Are you tired?" Nathan asked. "I had planned to take you to Taboo, but we can go to the room if you'd like."

"The room, not my room. Planning something?" I asked.

He looked at me so seriously I became uncomfortable. "Once you see the room, you'll understand." That sounded ominous and I was suddenly nervous. I didn't need this. I really wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. All this Vegas cheer was choking me. I'm sure the room was some fancy suite with lots of pomp and circumstance. Nathan would have it no other way. "I'm tired. Can we just go to the room?"

"Of 'course." Nathan held out his hand for mine. The way he held it and looked at me, like this was the beginning and end of a long journey. I took his hand, it felt like a piece of home, so I kept it there as we walked out of the casino. Just a nice couple out for a stroll. Part of me felt guilty, I expected my husband to come around a corner and catch me.

1,628.

We walked in silence through the bustling crowds of tourists and newlyweds. We arrived back at New York, New York and waited for the elevator. Nathan shifted on his feet and did a little dance with his hands. He used to do that when we were kids, it meant he was anxious. He caught me looking and put his hands in his pockets. How long had we known each other? How long had he waited? The elevator arrived and Nathan got on. He turned to look at me. I stood frozen just outside the door.

If I got on that elevator I wasn't going to make it to Savannah. I would probably never make it back to St. Louis. I realized all those years ago I hadn't run away, Nathan had let me go. I went away to college and then met the man who'd marry me. Nathan hadn't protested it, he hadn't whined or begged in any way, he'd only made me give him a simple promise. All this time. Damn him for the forethought.

I stepped onto the elevator.