I know Céline means something to the comedic community. It’s like “Gloria” by Laura Branigan. You know when something is so serious that it can make you laugh? “The Power of Love” is a great great song, it’s not that, “we’re heading for something” is truly satisfying. It is also funny, but that’s why you laugh at this Brazilian mother…this is her relationship to love. She is Nina from The Forbidden Dance… and this song—you felt its arrival in this house.
Maybe I’ll build in a narrator, voice over, even of me as an adult, something like that. But what she says about the lambada…feels central. I remember she said it being sad was - was not - the point. It’s love, Maria…and she seemed to want to tell me… about it… never give up on it… it’s a cultural thing. Celebrating.
I’m not Brazilian, and I don’t know if that’s Jewish, too, but it’s definitely Brazilian. A lot of music, depending, from South America — is about heartbreak, no? Dancing to this woman was practically medicine…you can bring a range of emotion to the dance floor…what are you supposed to do? It’s true. Deny it? Hide from it? I think that speaks for itself.
Just their cultural makeup is so funny. A super strong, very talented group of movers. Simply inspirational. I loved how they used to naturally go into the crowd and pull people in. They taught people the steps, and this is why people went over…so it’s the sexiest dance on Earth, but it was family, so it was innocent…there were moments…but none of that was bad…sex was not bad…and in looking at my parents…you really had to grain away. We weren’t in The Forbidden Dance, not the same story, but I have to communicate that part. Sex as an innocent act or that there’s healing in that area in some capacity.
Sex brings children into the world…it’s what life is about…according to her… hilarious and natural and wonderful… this woman lol, cracking up, getting sexier because she’s married. She has no reason to hold back. Party time. I thought that was a moving combination. And if you think about Parenthood, there’s something inappropriate about family, also, that seems to hold true in the comic dimension. Also dramatic. But what’s inappropriate for children…? In this case…um…some woman dancing freely is…the least of my concerns.
Sex was, an actual topic with me, so imagine a Brazilian mother with a girl like that…she isn’t from Bakersfield. Nothing wrong with that, it’s just not where she’s from. I asked her so many questions. About Brazil. Does everyone have legs like you? She painted it so honestly — you’ve seen NOTHING, nothing. We watched some carnival — FLOSS, Maria, women are wearing FLOSS. It’s so much fun. I just loved it.
And then…they all went to Hebrew school. So I was there for Shabbat. I hated the Catholics, I was vocal about the subject, totally confused, upset.
It’s like anything else, you keep skimming away to get to what it’s really about…the cultural meeting was inspiring…and she’s dancing around, sometimes, you know, to her Jesus and Mary candles lit, she’s just there…being her…and she’s such a talented mover, and this isn’t my mother, so there’s nothing uncomfortable about it. Her kids, hilariously, depending, snapped at her to simmer down. Nicole sort of airy…nodding at her…later on. Needing to bark at her sometimes because she’s dancing…or simply wait. They would appear…individually.
Mary and Jesus are Jewish! I would cry.
The Catholics infuriated me!
I was studying all this…maybe just observing at that age…that’s what I mean…maybe when my perspective comes into focus…I’ll figure out some text for a voice over, I’ll have to feel that out. I suppose that’s closer to the right track. It’s a love song. Or, some collection that makes up a whole. I guess some artists make an album that has fewer variations, but you have your ballads, you have deeper beats, you go on a journey.
At least with this mother, this Brazilian mother, I guess it all exists. She spoke to me as if I were there, there was a tough side to that. I would bark at people as if they weren’t there, they couldn’t see me, which she would say — I SEE YOU. I SEE YOU. But, like all her kids said, “what is she doing here?”
I have to make sure it’s clearly stated that the subject of sex…in this context…the sexiest dance…for someone communicating that to someone so young…who she thinks…and look, I might put this in, but remember in Sybil when she finds out that her mother…? Yikes. Imagine this woman? All caught up in some fucked up shit. Brazilian. Not Bakersfield.
It’s like, people said, this sounds like a soap opera, which “I get,” but it’s a truly dramatic situation with dramatic characters — even those three professional athletes, they are in a particular head space — so a soap opera to me implies that people murder casually, speak about truly real subjects in a slightly unreal way. This is a temporary insanity plea. There’s a difference. In real life, which I suppose I might have appeared that disconnected, talking about — yeah, and then, this happened, gotta go, we’ll talk about it at Starbucks later. Since my family life continued to be very dramatic…
I suppose it’s more spectacle, at times, I don’t know how her playing this game will come across… basically stay away. That was the basic communication strategy. And satisfaction or psychology is a real subject, in fact, meaning, we are — it’s an industry — attracted to drama…we have our dramas, romances, I mean, the lambada is a passionate dance. But that was a real drama right there though my mother Heavenly Creatures — ah, yes, that really happened, those types of characters exist. Thank you Peter Jackson, thank you. And what would you expect? Normalcy? Not really. Except, my father, was strangely “normal,” like a different animal. Except, nothing about the way he reacted was normal. Took me some time to just work that out, since this situation got out of control — for real. You don’t stand at some woman’s door…like, I guess the camera can take this perspective, so you can watch the ridiculously over the top SHOW — that was the point — go NUTS. And you can…watch a couple of girls going nuts…if that’s not a cognitive disorder, at least, I do not know what is. You child, yours, is at some woman’s house, who cares “if I hated you?” The whole thing was extremely suspicious.
There’s a subtextual communication that we have.
If you have some complex about being “the bad guy” — what the hell is that?
Forget my mother. She was too blinding…as an idea…
I am in this situation at four. Didn’t seem like that dawned on him. Ever.
So, without any change in behavior on my father’s end — this woman does a 180…because she’s spinning in a totally ungrounded, insane, lady. We make up all sorts of stories. It’s funny, to me, which now I am not hidden, since I was, when people talk to me about what they know about celebrities — I’m only doing that to study you. How the hell do you know that? An inside source? Now, I would crack up in your face. Sure, people “close” to you cannot lie about you. Of course. Always fascinated by what people believe in, when they in fact lie… to their closest… trust me, I’ve seen it before. My mother was one of these examples that taught me a lot actually. I suppose I unlearned some of that, but I think I mostly moved out of “I don’t know” space, meaning, I might not be projecting my past onto you, but I know where I came from. Simply.
She thinks she knows what’s going on…but that gets totally messed up. And somehow, we’re still dancing through it, or life goes on, I’m more and more a part of these people. What are you supposed to do?
So I took off today so I could work on this bible all day… I hope it won’t take that long. But at least…I can think out loud, and think about the elements that are missing…since, I don’t know, if the average person is going to know what the lambada is…and make the parallels between — some girl who’s apparently being abused… throwing her racket across a court… because an instructor sings her…a love song. She flips out, publicly. That’s what I mean. It was a real situation. Love songs. Just giving this man a piece of my mind— with a coconut pop. lol. This was our favorite. All of us eating coconut pops lol. Not everyone liked that one, but it should be that way.
Not Italian. These were my young years. I figure that probably the father can recognize her Italian ness, probably. Something. Or maybe they don’t. I don’t know. But Italians don’t eat with their elbows off the table. And my cousins were infuriated that I was told to do such a thing! Of course you revolted, this is Neapolitan. Any Neapolitan, doesn’t matter how old they are, if you tell them to eat with their elbows off the table — this is the reaction. You think in a house…that there’s one way…and it goes generally speaking across the board…it just doesn’t matter. My cousins also looked at me like I was strange…because I didn’t eat like them…because I am not Italian. Not from this country. So they go, oh, why did they, and typically, people don’t stop to think about these sorts of parallels. People are somewhat compartmentalized. Context. I found it all very fascinating. Annoying, it’s to be expected, at least, my cousins understand that to be…something everyone feels sometimes.
Maybe Franco tried to annoy me… since it was like, you can’t. Why people cared that much about my way of being, I really really don’t know. Now, I’m a bit with a couple of peace signs — I’m chill. You stay over there. Not interested. I get you are “superior,” I get you “know things,” I get you have “feelings,” okay? Keep them. They are in fact yours. Now that I got that one cleared up. I can continue. You are a “well of depth,” that too. I get it, I get the picture. I ain’t signing up. Excuse me if I might be sharp, but that actually makes more sense. What the fuck, this is Naples, do you know? My cousins supported me well. “Fuck off,” Angela said. “Learn it.” With her pout. Brava Meri. You see? I got here. Up the cliffs… lunchtime.
Anyway, we have our moments, moods, sides, but really being seen…or my story becoming real…was a tumultuous experience. You see, it’s one thing for some girl with a fairytale attitude, with shades, telling you some nonsensical story, but it’s another to imagine yourself in the position of — your family. Now, what would you do? Call foster care? That’s why I think it’s the right way to go. Because everyone has a family, this is what I learned, more or less, and there’s a bit of a difference, or people who cognitively function, no? So don’t try to relate to me, in a sense, just because sometimes, I don’t always agree with that approach. Sometimes, it’s good to feel lines of difference. You came from a totally different upbringing, and I’m not trying to relate to everyone… in fact. An exchange is something else. I’m not sitting here putting my story on some hierarchal scale, a most unnerving, annoying things that people can do…it’s just what happened. I cannot relate to them, does that make sense? I don’t know what it means to be Jewish because I spent some years there. I’m not going around…speaking about all this…in any way shape or form. So what? So you spent a few years somewhere… I spent like a decade in France, but I don’t know who these people are… I don’t know what their problems are… it’s a large country!
In any case, language is fun.
But a family drama. That I can do. That’s relatable. The average person, let’s say, more or less, can relate or put themselves in their position more easily than mine, but you’ll get it, too, and they, some of them, should for the story. And for those who can relate in some way, you know, I hear more often than not — family isn’t the easiest subject, also interesting to me…at that age… but these are not that people, you see. These are a group of people who are truly devoted to one another. But I get the sense that people can feel like outsiders in their own home…so that turns out to be relatable too…I had a hard time with people in my generation at times. Or these kids. But then, I acted out myself, but wouldn’t you? Would you want to go home? Would you listen to your father? Why? Someone who cannot basically function, in a weird way.
I don’t know what to say there… eventually, I’ll talk to some experts or something for my own piece of mind…I was there, however, because she believed that my father was a child molester, and my mother’s brief appearance was disturbing enough. Like, she cannot send me home, though she did, in reality, a couple of times, but if you understand how psychological often works, or can, that was a deeply confusing situation where she’s getting paid…she doesn’t actually understand it. Totally bonkers. Seriously, she’s be the first with her legs — to bust in on this weird ass Christmas party…what the fuck is this? Why are my parents nowhere to be found? Yuck. Some woman dying upstairs. You know when you can’t believe it? She didn’t know, but come on, this was one of those… when there’s nothing but abnormal disturbing behavior, what do you do? That’s quite tangled up. Dysfunction can operate. Literally work. Yeah, imagine? Okay, so Dr. J calls…weirdly… there’s a Christmas party? We’re trying to make this work. What the fuck does that mean, lady?
So..she drops me off…probably thinking…this is some party… or — not my kid. She’s so weird at this point… I was seven. But this unreal/real line — seems to be rather true for this figure. I am sure there are all sorts of scenarios… but I was trying to assess with a sexually very wounded person, evidently. There’s just a variety of directions I can go…”she gave you away to save you from herself” was an interesting interpretation. Save me from “him?” You know? From herself…? I mean, put yourself in the position of this family for real and think about that. You just don’t believe that something like that is possible. On the person level, I guess, even if statistics tell you that all sorts of weird shit happens in families.
Anyway, lucky me, I took off and I’m off to implement some of this storyline into the story… love songs…I mean, what the fuck did this mean to me? But I understood it, no? That’s what I have to get to…with this group of people who start doing that for me — just the image of JOSE flying like the wind across a parking lot. Nicole — watching him “Gemini.” She just sees stars in people, literally speaking, and I don’t know why I always think about Julianna Moore…being able to play her… but I can. Someone who has an expansive focus. An astrology prodigy, I mean, at seven, wow, I thought she was impressive. That’s how she saw the world. She was aware, at that time, that solar system existed within a person.
I think I’ll make the blond with Penelope Cruz…Kate Winslet in Heavenly Creatures. Just to keep it clean and simple. Shelley Long is hilarious, so is Nina, so maybe I’ll put that later on… they are also this. And you might laugh? For that reason. The character page about Dr. J I think is pretty riveting…it feels real to me…when you read that bio…so maybe I’ll keep that…I might find a photo of a tennis player in a fit of emotion next to Nina. Maybe I’ll make some triplet of psychological moments. I mention Heavy because it’s unreal/real. He’s lying about his mother…we don’t get that until the end. I need a terribly epic fight. I guess A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints has that dimension. I’ll be off figuring that out.