Super Sunny Saturday Here!

Really lovely morning here, gang. Although later it’s supposed to rain unendingly, on into the wee small hours of the morning…

So let us gather our little rosebuds while we may!

Yes, the Spider did indeed replace all his lovely webs on the kitchen porch.  He looked amazing last night. He always seems so happy to be sitting right smack in the middle of his kingdom in all his brand new webs!

Of course, I might be projecting a bit.  He might come down from wherever it is he lives during the day, and see my handiwork with his old webs, and think: Jesus fucking Christ! What is the matter with that crazy dame? As soon as I get everything looking exactly the way I want it, she comes through and trashes everything and I have to start all over again.

It’s actually kind of hard to tell what he’s thinking.  I know he’s not afraid of me, or anything. Sometimes I just stand there at night and marvel at him in his amazing web. And he just sits there and stares back at me with all 1800 million of his eyes. Saying nothing.


Yes, it’s Saturday, which means I have to work with Peitor on the video script here in a bit. FYI, they’ve been having earthquakes again out in Los Angeles. He texted last night and said that last night’s quake was the only one he truly felt. It was another strong one.

Those earthquakes are one of the primary reasons I don’t want to settle in California. It just feels like flirting with disaster.

You know, back in 1989,  when they had that terrible earthquake in San Francisco, my first husband had just moved there from Honolulu. This was in the “death throes” era of our marriage.  I had stayed in NYC when he moved to Honolulu, which is what caused our separation – I still had my band, I was still singing all the time; I did not want to move to Honolulu.

But once he moved to San Francisco, he expected me to move out there and start behaving like a wife and stuff like that.

He called me on the phone. I was still living in my hellhole apartment on E. 12th Street. He said, “I’m buying you a house here and you’re going to move out here and you’re going to start behaving yourself.  I’ve been patient, but you’re my wife. It’s time for you to grow up and act like it.”

Gentle readers, I know you don’t actually know me, personally, but you probably know me well enough to presume that that little conversation didn’t go over too well with me.

Yes, I could have been smart!! I could have been like other women I know, frankly, and I could have thought: I could own prime real estate in San Francisco. Move out there for now. Get a deed in my name. THEN get a divorce.

But, honestly, my mind doesn’t ever work like that. Instead, I told him that I didn’t want to do any of those things.

So he got on a plane and flew out to NYC to have a more persuasive chat.  But for some reason, I just wanted a divorce. I just wanted to be myself, you know?  I would have suffocated if  I’d tried to be any sort of wife in a house in San Francisco. So he finally gave me my divorce.

Then, about a dozen years later, I did it again. Got married. And it didn’t work out. Because I am always “me” in whatever marriage I am trying to be in.  And a priest who was counseling me while I was in the process of leaving my second husband – because I was suffocating; going further out of my fucking mind; could not figure out how to be myself and still be “a wife.” The priest very discreetly said, “Are you sure you want to just leave? Have an uncontested divorce? You’re walking away from prime real estate in Manhattan.”

He honestly really said that. Nothing about how God might think that marriages should be eternal or anything.

I don’t know what it is about me. I just need to be in this perpetual state of divorcement or something, and clearly, I never want to be a gal who owns valuable real estate.

Actually, I just want to be loved, for who I am, and haven’t found marriage to be a real promoter of that kind of thing for me. And even The Beatles taught me very early on that: Money can’t buy me love, gang.

Who the fuck needs real estate, and real estate taxes that are off the charts, if the person you’re with constantly wishes you were something else?

There is that saying, “I clean up real good.” Meaning that I did look really good in a little black dress, high heels, the whole 9 yards of it. And both husbands appreciated that. But they both really, really, really wanted the personality underneath that “look” to just go away. The 2nd one, especially.

We were always locking horns with my career.  And I thought I had the coolest career ever, because I was doing stuff that had never been done before.

After Marilyn’s had been around for a little while, a director came to me with a script he wanted me to produce for Marilyn’s Room. I usually just promoted erotic fetish films that had already been made. But this one would be made exclusively for Marilyn’s Room; a 10-minute film, super saturated color, a fetish lesbian vampire thing. Hardcore fetish (blood sport), but not actual porn. And it would stream on the Internet instead of having to be downloaded, which was way too time-consuming and way too expensive.

This sounds so ordinary now, but back then, no one had ever done it. Ever. No one was producing highly stylized extreme hardcore fetish just for the Internet. It was so exciting to me.

When I went home and told my husband about it, he not only looked at me like I was from Mars, but Polanski’s film Repulsion barely captures everything else he felt. He just couldn’t stand the things my mind loved.

I never made the film because the only people willing to fund it were either in the hardcore porn industry,  or in the Mafia.

I had very good relationships with both of those avenues, but I wasn’t stupid or anything.  It was so important to me that the porn industry not be what was funding Marilyn’s Room, because to me, what we were doing was Art.  And then the Mafia. I mean, I’m just not stupid.

The bar I hung out in at that point was a Mafia place in Midtown, and the men there were well into producing movies. Regular movies, I mean. I was telling one of them about this great script, this cool great new idea that I was trying to get funded, and he jumped on it, even though I wasn’t asking him for funding.  He said, “I can give you $50K right now if you’ll just wait right here!”

But you  know. I was still young and kind of good-looking. I knew exactly what they were gonna want from me in exchange for $50K for pretty much the rest of my life.

It was too funny! Why couldn’t any regular people say something to me like, “I can give you $50K right now if you’ll just wait right here!”

But nobody else I approached really “got it.” They could barely understand the Internet yet, and so could not understand producing a 10-minute, intensely strange fetish video for it. Instead, they wanted me to go out to Hollywood with them and make regular movies out there.

ME: “But why would I want to do that? Everyone’s doing that. I wanna stay here. And do this.”

And that’s sort of the story of my life, right? “But I wanna stay here, and do this.”

Oh well! Whatever, gang! Such is the tale of me and matrimony and art and real estate.

Okay. I’m gonna get going here before I have a 3-hour phone call to attend to.

I leave you with 2 options today. One is my actual breakfast-listening music from this morning. A song I absolutely love & wish someone would sing about ME, just exactly the way I am!!  However, it is no longer politically correct to listen to this song. So it might offend you. (Michael Jackson, “Got to be There.”)

The second is something I heard this morning on a music blog I follow,  hotfox63,  from out of Switzerland, I think. I love the song but never knew the name of it before because I was about 7 years old when it came out! (The Kinks, “Waterloo Sunset.”)

All righty! Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!!!



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