I’ve structured out the beginning — it stays. I’m not bringing in the lambada. I’m not bringing in the love songs, her living in a state of dance. I’m going to reserve that, maybe for the end, not so sure, but I had to make meaning out of a story like that, and the lambada is a dance famously if not infamously about sex. And they’re Jewish too, so we honored Jewish holidays too in the same house. It was about everything— people thought this was unbelievable, when human history is packed with tragedy and catastrophe and terrible acts. And there I was, a symbol of child abuse, in some insane lie? Which…??? The Jews know. They were killed as children. Anne Frank. What was I supposed to do with that?
I’m just having her come to my house first. I’m not bringing in the song and dance yet. I think that’s later. In general, I’m finding, I think, that I try to do too much too quickly.
On the way to my house, I have her looking over her shoulder — needing to switch lanes — that’s the metaphor for psychological structure, and that’s what fascinated me the most, the existence of it. She had a frame of reference, she has a world that’s traveling through the universe. She knew child abuse existed out there, but never in a MILLION YEARS — and people exaggerate, to bring in a META point about DR. J— did she expect this to come into hers. So will she be able to even SEE it? NOT in her structure. Not in HER world concept.
There’s a reason why self-defense classes begin with tackling your shock response. You can’t freeze. People might not totally understand how they might react, in reality. Your MIND is another topic in these cases.
“Can you imagine?” She tapped her temple at me dramatically. She couldn’t imagine it, but at the same time, she knows and readily believes, “real tears,” my mother cried “real tears,” she insisted.
I get it. But a man can do this, it’s mythical, even, or maybe I should speak to the existence of a collective. I saw that was a real idea. There’s a collective, more than one. We know it happens. It wasn’t THAT unbelievable that a FATHER could molest if not RAPE his own FOUR YEAR OLD daughter. Forget the tears—WHAT? You see what I’m saying? So she shows me, this happens? Okay. Keep going.
It’s just to introduce that this woman is going to get — IMPACTED, something’s coming out of the blind spot that’s going to be a touch too real or apparent.
So I left off, in my last post, when Angelica gets to my house, and Dr. J walks down the steps.
I tend to get mixed up here.
The reader doesn’t know that the story was, originally, that my mother lied that my father was a child abuser. It’s not going to LOOK good when we get there…WHY Angelica decided it wasn’t true. My parents aren’t in the picture yet, which is good. We just know I’m asking her to tell me the story of what happened.
She comes into my house, and she’s alerted upon entry. She took ONE step, froze, and THEN TURNED and saw me. She felt it, and she was amazed herself. “I am from BRAZIL.” The joke.
Once Dr. J comes down the steps, it gets muddled, because her husband’s best friend asked her to do him a favor and pick up his tax return, and it’s going to turn out —that this guy was one of Dr. J’s lovers, which I find out later, in reality, and it’s going to be funny, because he hated ME, you see. Fat Alan. I don’t know if I’m there quite yet. “You didn’t know her?” Not at all. “Never met me.” I’ll stick to the basics.
“I could have been ANYONE,” she shivered. And the FEAR is always sex, child abduction. The fear is always sex, doesn’t matter WHERE you are. It’s just to say. It’s one of these examples to point out what I mean about PEOPLE — THIS story was impossible to people, it could not have happened, but there’s a child rapist everywhere, no matter where you go… right? But people can’t draw these connections. What’s this fear, Dr. J? I saw the existence of a collective, I did.
That’s called a collective fear. One that might be too true. You see? So don’t act, as if there weren’t child abusers if not murderers waiting in the wings of every nation. Truly speaking.
Lots of fear around sex. Got the picture. Please continue. I was nine. Angelica Leibowitz and I had been discussing sex openly since I was four, which is true. But she’s not acting fearful around it, which I appreciated. The fear around sex hurt me, it did. I’m four, but I know I came from sex, no? Is this secret? I’m not asking for details, I’m not exactly… able to retain a thought… enough, I was so confused, really, around the subject of sex, thinking about Dr. J’s lunacy.
I’m seeing truth in her, in other words. Is it really crazy, Dr. J? Our perspective on sex— yes.
Anyway, she comes down the steps. I’ll move her description along… as she was a person who merited being analyzed, but I won’t get caught up. I’ll develop it later.
They were standing next to tea cup sets on pedestals. A mad hatter, Dr. J, for real, she acted as if she were on mercury. One of these details, where you go, really? Just because she was so “on the nose.” Her storytelling was EXTREMELY CLEAR, too clear, like her eyes.
So, the first words out of Dr. J’s mouth disturbed Angelica, (I’m laughing), which brings in point one:
“HERE TAKE HER!” Wee! Dr. J pops like a Jack in the Box, with confetti flying, that’s what she did, and that imagery lands with Angelica. She threw me onto her in a state of extreme joy.
“What did you think?”
“Was she joking?”
You never knew with Dr. J. She appeared to not possess distinctions between lie and truth, like she was one mad universe, or the MEDIA. No one knows what’s what, THEY have an agenda but not my media. The aliens are here, (lol), the military guy is making his rounds in podcasts, Minhaj’s emotional truth. Dr. J is — dee dee dee — speaking right, left, literally, skipping down the middle, sticking ONE foot OUT, one foot IN, you see? “Cha cha real smooth,” Casper Slide Part Two. “Let’s go to work,” and she’s clapping her hands like a monkey with cymbals. She appeared to crack on a particular line. And she’s going to crack her dazzling smile… she’s not reflecting a lie, in fact, if you catch my drift.
You see what I’m saying? The joke?
So here I get lost in my conception of this story.
I’m investigating child abuse, so this has to reveal something, or be leading the reader towards some point about it, which is, Angelica said, “can you imagine someone lying about that?”
But YOU the reader don’t know enough yet, maybe, like, wait what? She lied? So it’s not true about your father? Maybe that’s a good twist early on?
“Imagine someone lying about something like that? About your own husband?”
“But isn’t it already a lie?” I ask. “You must lie.”
I was wondering if Dr. J actually came from an abusive household, if this situation I was in reflected her real past.
Where did this woman come from?
I don’t know if I should do a scene where my aunt and uncle tell me that they had to leave her family house the next day, because it was “too creepy.” You see what I mean? RIGHT out of the gate, I’m expecting CREEPY just as she projected right away. That’s what I mean. I’m seeing the truth. I’m seeing reflections of it.
Dr. J = creepy, not in a few convos. The first. And the second my aunt and uncle walked into her family’s house: “creepy,” first word. Now picture me, a newborn, unable to leave.
So here are the notecards I’m staring at right now:
Her personality — brighter than bright. So how does that relate to child abuse? Is it BRIGHT, Dr. J? Like, Margaret Atwood said recently in the NYtimes, that “very very likely” we’re all getting abused… molested, literally. We have to assume that we’re all going to get molested — and is that true? Here we go. That old question. You see? The crack we are on, with Dr. J? Regardless, what is happening? You see what I’m saying? What are we SAYING?
I saw that in her, long ago.
To bring in an example: when I said it was a lie, I heard without fail, “was it?” And then, when I asked that question, it was “no no…” basically. This what I mean about her basic condition. Is it true? Not true? Can it exist? Only if it IS a lie? A clown show.
“She believed her own lies,” my father said. But so did he. So did Fox News when they said Obama wasn’t a citizen of the United States. They knew that wasn’t true, but they acted like it was. Fake news MUST have fact checkers, but the real news doesn’t have to…
This is where I don’t know what to do next.
Mirror mirror mirrors? Like are you following me? Where I go into her universe of mirrors? She reflected the truth. Mirrors were one of her symbols.
The ONLY way she could be THAT happy? Angelica Leibowitz leveled with me, is if she made love recently, just before she came down the stairs… and should she be disturbed? Like did she get her mind too blown? Jesus. What did that even mean in her case? Why did she act like that?
And that’s just the first interaction with my mother, which might make some men wonder— who is your father?
Now, here, “well she could have…” as she slept with her clients upstairs, often, and so, there’s her legendary sexual behavior. You can’t talk about Dr. J without addressing a real problem in this arena, and here we go, sex. That’s what this story is about, so as long as you have a basic picture of her, a basic haunting idea hanging above it all, I can keep going.
When we left that day, my mother’s vehicle was parked out front (I have pictures). A cherry red mercedes with a license plate that read IRSHELP. She’s getting pulled over for drinking, driving, and looking for sex downtown in that vehicle, as a tax expert, a genius. Her limo pulled up, her solution to her problem, or simply, wee! Time to move up in the world. She was only chaffeured around in limosuines, another lover in the driver’s seat, Michel, “him too, Maria!” Angelica said. And the black tinted windows reflected the sky the color of her eyes… that’s the central relationship in Dr. J, where the light became dark, the dark became light.
I don’t know the steps yet, how to order these ideas.
I know central storytelling points include: did this happen to her once upon a time? And, she reflected the truth… that’s my working hypothesis.
So maybe I should go there first, she reflected the truth, was she laughed at, even? She was almost asking to be laughed at… the way she acted when Angelica just tried to talk to her.
I’m taking in the club, as it was hell, it would have made a great stage for hell, as the terracotta deck, bright red, baked so hot under the sun, it burned your feet right off, you couldn’t walk barefoot. And she made acutely aware of light and dark, heaven and hell. There would be bright spots in hell, wouldn’t there be? Was this the quality of it? Not so much DARK, is this… bright? Like it’s happening right in front of everyone? You see what I mean?
“Very very likely, everyone is getting abused…” in front of our faces. But is it true? Here’s Dr. J again. YAY! NAY… YAY! YAY NAY, time to play twister. How low can you go… I have a lot of fun using her as a reflective object, because she was that ridiculous. And, interestingly, to skip ahead, Trump won’t release the full files on Epstein. With situations, scandals, like these: you expose. You see what I mean? They are TOO BRIGHT. That’s what you do. Like, sorry, you abused children. You massacred people… and there are shades of darkness that are just TOO BRIGHT.
That’s what I’m seeing in Dr. J. My feet dangling. “Huh.” It was all…so fascinating… as if I were “a dark character” turning the lens on the light… as we’re dealing with a reversal of concept, and yes, it’s disconnection, the BUTTON word of today. “Everything is disconnected.” Think about it. Dr. J is scratching her wig, so it shuffles from side to side. This is really the point. It’s going to come down to our nature, our beliefs about our own nature. That’s what I’m seeing in Dr. J, even if I couldn’t totally get there, as a child. I’m SEEING the future, I’m SEEING Jean Baudrillard. I’m seeing a fairytale even inspired by his treatises.
This section is complicated. But, “you’d think?” I’m tossing a paper towel into the bin of bathroom at the BH Tennis Club, in a shady corner… staring at the magnolia tree, or gardenia. It’s about our nature, Dr. J, I get that, something twisted about our ideas about all this… but you’d think, you’d think that “a man is raping a four year old,” would be an automatic goodbye, not a “here’s 11k a month while I figure it out…” like, “we loved each other once…” sounds a little DISNEY, delusional. The knee jerk reaction SHOULD BE— I need to get HELP. That’s NOT what happens. It’s just to say I’m SEEING as child abuse as DISNEY. Is it rated PG, if not G, Dr. J? I was amazed. How?
In terms of the story, this is what I have, first.
I have Joy calling Angelica every day… she’s keeping her close. I asked her to describe these phone calls, and I can start to describe her in more detail here. Like maybe I should push ahead in the narrative.
So she calls every day, she’s keeping her close. Did she KNOW what she was doing, bringing in her BLANK state eyes of SHEER innocence? I don’t give a shit. People asked me that. Do you? Do you know what you do? It’s a question Jesus answered—no. “They don’t know what the do.” But, hm, some might call him delusional, and understandably so, all things considered. Yes and no.
Now, to bring back in Eric Berne, this smells of a game… he believed the games we play reach back into our childhoods, so what is this game, Dr. J? So maybe I should push ahead… action wise before getting caught up in her…
Because the question that’s coming is: did this happen to her?
Then, the accusation gets launched, and Angelica decides to “play a nice game” anticipating that he might call and “act NICE.”
Maybe I should drive the narrative here.
I don’t know where to put these scenes:
At four, in church, I was contemplating “pure regards.” I had to conclude at four, that she might have been abused younger than my age. I knew what rape was, conceptually. I didn’t know the details, but it didn’t look good. It really really ugly. Dr. J has a “pure regard,” which was fascinating to me, because she was so impure, I got it, I just didn’t understand it. Why? I got that sex wasn’t pure to these people, the Catholics, but if I am pure, and I came from this act, why is it impure?
I didn’t even know where this woman came from… so I asked my father, to and fro the club, WHO is this woman? And basically, he reveals a detail about her life, that she was sent away for a few years, because her sister beat her when she was two?
And my father’s “oh didn’t ask anymore questions…” like, I understand it might repulsive, repelling, but was that a cover up? A blatant lie? I get that you don’t know the difference, Dr. J, but I couldn’t help that I could see that I was sort of sent away, so did this situation reflect a real past?
I’m going to stop for today.
Did this happen to her…?
Mirror mirror mirrors on the walls… do I go into the mirrors now? She reflected the truth.
A later story development is: how do we become who we are? As this situation is going to fall on me, or my mother is — even if it’s outrageous! Outrageous to put such a fate on someone so young.
I’m studying abuse.
And I launched a psychological experiment in the fourth grade, which is a scene I feel like I need to put in… just because, I tried to understand her, destroy her, at the same time.
In any case, I’m currently confused, but I’m figuring it out. It’s starting to feel “thrilling,” which is what I want.
I just don’t know how to order THIS because it’s not going to sound like a lie, you see, I’m pretty sure.