The Heart. A users guide….

I like lots of things but there are three things I like the most, love,love and love.

-Anita Ekberg in "La Dolce Vita"

( I run.)

I am starting to think that I may very well be a figment of the imagination. Who’s? Well, I don’t rightly know nor am I sure that I want to.Who ever they are ,they have alot to answer for and I fear that they would not be answers that I would want or be equipped to hear.La,lala,la,la…..

My banner cracks like a whip in the wind, makes the rubes on the midway salivate and swoon as if touched by quick religion before Marcel has even torn a ticket at the darkened doorway to my tent. "A gypsy goddess"" they mutter awestruck moving forward opiate slow and utterly charmed.

 I smile, invisible when I need to be, my light dimmed and hidden I lean and listen "Goddess? Hell no!….White trash from the dirty south is all…." I whisper under my breath , turn on my sorrowful heal and go get ready for the show.

( I pick up speed just under the 4th street bridge…)

I am in the geek pit of celibacy beheading maybe’s instead of chickens, thrown by heartbreakingly beautiful and equal parts mean red headed boys who re-bruise my carneys heart by the elephant shit scented, popcorn strewn minute. 

I sink my opalescent teeth into the fragile jugular of the stunned half promises and shocked soon to be slain flirtations flung to the floor of my recessed well lit pit

Everybody loves a show dontcha know…..

( I run further….)

The show over for another night I wave to the pin heads and sigh as they stumble,sleepy and giggling back to their caravan, whispers and stares gamboling like puppies, playful  in their oblivious wake.

The colored lights hung high and candy coated make me happy in ways that I can’t explain,I take a suck on my hip flask and cross my eyes slightly  to redouble my visual pleasure,more bang for the occular buck,juniper scorching my tongue, I grin and burp gently.Sçuseme.

 Legs akimbo,I perch on a dented red bucket up ended by the silent stipped stage entrance..my barker licks his thread thin lips,tounge toying with an ivory tooth pick( "My granddaddy was gifted this by Marie Lavou and he gifted it to me Mon ami ,I would lie to you,no?") he smiles over at me, a ballyhoo barracuda from the swamps of  catfish country .Greedy fists clutching bouquets of crumbled soft green backs Everyone is a winner.

He spits into the shabby carpet of sawdust curled golden ,the beard of Zeus shawn at your fine boned bird like feet as you follow the trajectory of the titan tressed tormenters of  your pulp novel paper laced trimmed romantic heart.

"Thes’ collage towns are a doddle! 3 yards and a full house Cherie!!"  Leans over and kisses me like a crooked politician  laying one on an ugly baby come re-election time. "Save it for the fan dancers Marcel! " I laugh shaking him off like a Cajun chill.

He barks a short laugh and pats my head. "Don’t be betting on the boys cheri…you are special and he will  find you" (  pat,pat….and you aint gonna cry .)  Kisses the top of your head and turns to the fan dancers tent and leaves you alone with your thoughts,the stars and your stupid heart…..You looks up as the carnival winds down and the marks make their way to the lion jawed gates.

You sigh like a memory, a soap bubble as your idea of boy meat perfection trips down the fairway back to a reality that is a foreign to you as  you are in all of your diamond dotted,sin clotted glory to them.

And never the twain shall meet.

( I will run forever…but try as I may,I can never outrun my heart….)

Training without music is like fucking without comming.Sure, you break a sweat and its not that its NOT  fun and all but….I worked out for two hours today without the vinegar stroke so to speak.Didnt matter though.Mama has a new katana and my arms feel like they are made out of beef jerky.Your zealot scribe is clocking in at somewhere around 159 pounds.

Obsession seems to suit me. I love and do what I do until my last.I see no point in tempering ones self. I did once upon a sad assed long ago time.Gave me nothing but gas and a pissed of imagination who wouldn’t even look at me when we fucked.A sad and sorry state of affairs’s for all involved so now I do what ever the hell I want.

("Fiddle-de-de Miss Scarlet!")

You bet your sweet ass sunshine.

Granted,I may try and act like Mr Eastwood in any number of his Sergio Leone numbers and don’t do too badly if I may say so myself  but internal its a whole different story.Internal?  It dresses in velvet and goes down real slow.Lives in a shotgun shack the bayou and collects wayward hearts like snowdroppers collect smalls.Under the cover of darkness with an illicit illegal glee.Can I get a hallelujah?.

My stocks plummeted for a while there…well,over the weekend.

I shook my voodoo doll like a rag bound rattle,teething for magic and a silver bullet. If you recall I was asked on a date a while ago. I was looking for the hidden camera to tell you the truth, I mean ,it is me that we are talking about here. But, I accepted,eyelashes lowed like a matching set of jet  narcoleptic butterflies on my blushing Russian cheek bones.What is life for if not to be a tad scared and to put yourself out there every one in a scant while,I ask you?.

"Children! Do you know what a "Moron" is?" said Miss sunshine standing by the blackboard, shone upon by 23 cherubic little faces hungry for knowledge and peanut butter,for gold stars and red crayola colored love.

Hard reaching for the sky, almost passing out under the weight of the correct answer fair crushing her! Help the child Miss Sunshine! Save her before her infant self explodes!

"Me Miss! I know ,I know!"our young scribe doing the twist,bladder cha cha chaing full of chocolate milk tying her in a knot! Give the kid a shot for the love of  Pete! It aint Broadway but it will do…..

"Michele! Do you know?" Smiles the most loved woman in the room…"What’s is a moron?"

Lights,camera and action!

"Well Miss,its me right?"

( "And the winner is…….OH my stars!!!!! Its Michele Madden for "I’m a Moron!!!")

Ticker tape! Cadillacs! Baton twirler high kicking and knickers flashing,your ass propped on white leather,arms full of red roses and Vaseline on your teeth for a smile that wont quit,wave! Wave you silly cow! Wave damn it or its your ass……)

I should have known really.I mean , he was the kind of boy who’s name I would have written on my jeans surrounded in ball point stars at school. The sort of guy that I would have worn flat shoes for.For the love of Elvis! Jesus please us?!

 ("File that in with the "Hens teeth" Miss Madden!" yelled the Dr eyes shooting sparks,shocked she questioned him  "That rare Professor Chicken?" eyes porno wide and baby moist enquires our nubile young lab assistant shaking slightly at the brevity of the whole clanging kit and kaboodle.The Professor takes her by the hand and pats it softly as if calming a dumb but distressed dog."Yes Miss Madden"he intones like he ate Charlton Heston on toast for breakfast "That rare……" He coughs wetly and wanders back to the lab to shove his well manicured  PhD’ hand up a monkeys butt.)

Many txt’s ensued over the following week fogging up the phone and the widows on the double wide that housed whatever good sense I have from the testosterone tornado hopping all over the trailer park of my sadly neglected desire and oft ignored girl bits.

So, Friday night rolled around like a lip glossed kiss high on helium and ….( "An age old tale full of blah,blah and blah…boring…..self doubt….blah….and now back to our regular programming") …said that in a nut shell that ,well this is what I  got out of it, wasn’t worth the drive! And that was that! I have not heard from him since.

And here we are…back t olife in SoCal…..Shall we?

Ah! The wild assortment of hats that are thrown into my ring like roses to the matador.Ole!. Sigh. The Brooklyn rottwiler has been leaving harried and happy messages all over my electronic paper chase informing me of many dates all over  America to forfill over the 30 day span of the despised month of my sky blackening birth.Back to tampering with myself post show in the shower cubicles of Days Inns once more…..

Nothing ever really prepares you for seeing yourself emblazoned over the front of some dudes chest on a teeshirt.Take my word for it. Ace,the pimp of the aforementioned fine apparel, is back from alien country safe and sound.I think that a dinner is in order.I have a burning desire to know if his butt was probed.At least that means some one I know got lucky even if it was with a pointy silver speculum an alien craft…I mean,I wouldn’t say no if they called again.It strikes me all as arather hygienic and adventuresome winner.Two thumbs up.

All my boys are heading back to California.I lay down sonic seed for only the hottest homing pidgons.Ahem….

I have a twin.Have I told you this? His name is Mark Gardner and together we are…drum roll please…."The Whiskey twins" we know that we have magic powers we are not sure what they are as yet but we are working on it. I am avery lucky little desperado. In the Hollywood shuffle,the Californian quagmire,mountain sides of morons give way to a sea of superficial shallow spite.But Elvis has sent me the cream of the curdled crop and I Clutch them to my heaving bosom like a scarf flung from the Kings own finger tips right to me at Caesars palace in the steamy summer of 72′ deep in the dirty Vegas night.

Darling twin is plundering his way through Europe with his dear friends Masterdon.He writes and tells me of bars closing down before boarding the nightliner (The rock equivalent of a road raging bitumen bound modern day Jolly Rodgers doncha know?) Mark smiles with his whole body and I could feel it in his pirate missives across the sexy seas back to my proud-as-punch self in the bowels of the LBC.

Joseph Campbell .A stand up guy I am so sure. "Follow your bliss!" he exclaimed Primal Scream made me shake my tush to much of the same "Getcha rocks off honey!!! "sneered Bobby Gillespie all snide and British and I don’t mind if I do.

Stupid boys can eat a bowl of dick sans salsa …I mean really…rather look at what I have got rather than what, for a scant, and yes I admit,somewhat  moist moment thought that I lacked…Fuck em! Its them who is missing out, not me. Me? I get to thinking after the smut laden smoke clears under the force fan of my ever brutal logic,is that yet again I dodged a bullet.  A bullet with a dick and more often than not a crazy ex girlfriend but a bullet none the less.

Yey me and my Brillant Friends.

I have a sexy summer sneaking upon me,Ace the alien abductor,Mark the whiskey twin,Marty and my beloved and revered 4th St illuminati,a tour shimmering before my hungry eyes and black heart  like the sequins on a snake charmers skirt,Leizel who amazes by the hour….

So I keep beating off? Big deal.

Its my movie and I am in mad love with my cast.Date? Shmate!

I will never dumb down nor will accept less than what my hyper heart is worth.So there.

Right now he is off  somewhere breathing heavy but one day I know my prince will come.

And I will be waiting….sans knickers.

"So" I will smile up into his eyes as we stand in a hickory wind blown field at sunset "You love Bon era AC/DC right?" "Of course baby" he growls sounding like a honey dipped flame broiled Memphis messiah..

"That and going down like my life depends on it" Grinning, he sweeps me off my feet and over his shoulder,my bare ass sunny side up, I mouth a silent thanks to Elvis and whoop like a cowgirl.

( Fade to credits…..)

M

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