orville redenbacher, dds

For me, the most interesting thing about Jewel is that she always looks like she’s got a mouth full of popcorn — and coming from the trashy, working class myself, I can totally respect a broad with fucked-up teeth.

Christ, just give me something — ANYTHING — that is REAL.

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tap, tap, tap

Now that I am back quick jump strut into the thick of it, I have a fast query for all my writer/author/penner/pecker/typer/scrawler/wordsmith friends out there in The Great Somewhere:

Tell me true…where do you do it?

Myself…I like to write at the MARVELOUS, evocative, cozy, Mid-Century Altadena library…or ensconced in my bed — pillows and blankets and schmatas and chihuahuas and books and papers and coffee and knitting nearby.

It’s either very Edith Sitwell of me…or very Jabba the Hut.

I choose Dame Edie.

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joan

I am spending this gorgeous Los Angeles day raking lizards off the trees and building complicated constructions out of forks and knives.

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life. mine.

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“The very things that hold you down are going to lift you up.” – Walt Disney’s, “Dumbo”

 

Now that the holidays are done and once again lovingly stowed away in their special red and green plastic bins in the underworld, and the calendar on my iPhone has clicked over to the new year, I have a moment to just sit, knit, breathe, and reflect – and I’ll be goddamned if 2015 wasn’t pretty extraordinary.

My marriage to My One True Love, Gregory, is still a wondrous great adventure after what will be 14 years on Bloomsday; our three beautiful babies are KILLIN’ IT; my poochies are FAB; my glorious gusband, Miss Jackie Beat, is as BRILLIANT and CUNTY as ever; my health is holding fast; and my genius writing partner and BFF, Doug, and I created, developed, and sold a motherloving television pilot to NBC.

Yes, THAT NBC, and yes, I am fully aware that our AWESOME SQUAD over at The Peacock shall soon enough figure out that I am an utter fraud with her bob up her ass who needs to be sent packin’ back to Fresno to once again clean houses and give handjobs. However, until that undoubted day of reckoning and revelation, I shall enjoy each and every notes call, rewrite, meeting, and motherfuck. Believe me when I tell you, I am WELL AWARE that I am one SERIOUSLY Lucky Slut – a little morsel of a phrase which brings me to my next point.

You see, after the long process of getting the TV stuff set in motion and moving along, I am now FINALLY back to the work of writing my memoir – “Lucky Slut” — and that means I once again find myself surrounded by pages and pages of intense, shocking, amusing, detailed notes, some entered carefully in right proper notebooks, some hastily scrawled on the back of Del Taco receipts whilst pulling out of the drive-thru in a state of giddy grace and hunger.

Either way, my fatass currently dwells in the very midst of wist and memory. Like any life, some of it is lovely, some of it is horrific, and yet, somehow, looking back now from the crepey, saggy peak of middle age, ALL OF IT is hilarious. I’ll be goddamned if the very worst things that ever happened to me as a human, have not been the very BEST things that ever happened to me as a writer. Honestly.

So, here I sit at my beloved perch at my beloved library…and I am just doin’ it — NO FEAR, OVARIES TO THE WALL. In the end, no matter what people are going to say or what people are going to think — and trust me when I tell you, they are going to say and think A WHOLE LOT — I lived it. I survived it. It is MY story to tell. There is no underlying revenge agenda, no notion of somehow punishing those who were less than kind or cordial to me.

It all just IS.

What I feel now is overwhelming gratitude and compassion for all those in my life who were doing the very best they could do at any given moment. I know that now. Any agony or shame that my colorful upbringing may have inflicted onto my spirit when I was younger is now a thing of the distant past. All is forgiven. All is embraced. There is no rage or regret. There is only awe and delight that I am still standing — surrounded by the people who I love and who love me back — standing and BELLY LAUGHING…and ready to tell what is one UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE STORY, filled with UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE EVENTS, and peopled by UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE CHARACTERS:

My FABULOUS, TRAGIC, MAGICAL KIN.

When I think back to the sensitive, young girl I was then — raised in chaos, crime, violence, and scandal — I fully realize that it was certainly a harrowing way to come up. But when I think now of the FIERCE, ruthless, bemused, old broad that I AM TODAY — I also fully realize that, as a writer, I HIT THE MOTHERFUCKING MOTHERLODE WITH THIS LIFE. All of the difficulties of the past have made me who and what I am today. I was forged in the fires of discord and want. I was tumbled smooth and cool by sharp edges and even sharper words. This life is a goddamned blessing. This story is a goddamned gift. It is a privilege to have lived it, it is a privilege to have survived it, and it is now a privilege to tell it.

All of it.

I can’t wait to gather round the fire with all of you…all of us under the stars, gazing amazed at the moon like children, huddled together against the dark, sitting at the edge of the endless, black, eternal sea, its constant, comforting rumble reminding us where we came from, beckoning us home.

We will tell our stories. We will tell our truths. I can’t wait to tell you mine. I can’t wait to listen to yours. There will be no judgement — only honor, recognition, communion, and, best of all, BELLY LAUGHTER. Even at the hard stuff. ESPECIALLY at the hard stuff. The chips in our china and the dents in our cans are what make us interesting. They are what make us beautiful.

So, grab a blanket and grab a brew. Don’t cost nothin’.

We are all here, sitting in an endless circle, bound one to the other by starlight and beer.

We survived.

We thrived.

We lived to tell the tale.

So, at long last, let’s tell it.

I’ll start.

 

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truth

DEAD FUCKING ON.

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truth

Also, THIS.

DEAD ON.

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All these 19 year old college students marching into the administration office and demanding trigger warnings in a class studying Classical Greek Mythology because there is a TWO THOUSAND YEAR OLD FAIRYTALE SWAN RAPE in the reading assignments.

Welcome to THE REAL WORLD, Oh, Soft Feckless Children Raised Like Prize Veal. Either BUTCH IT UP or FUCK ON OFF. If you don’t…your weak, whiny line WILL NEVER SURVIVE THE WINTER.

And, the very worst part?

It isn’t The Right doing this. Trust me, The Right is NOT NEAR SMART ENOUGH to carve and parse language at this micro-intellectual level. No. This one, Mein Poppets, is ALL ON THE LEFT.

So, congratulations, Kids.

YOU HAVE BECOME WHAT YOU DISDAIN.

If someone had told me ten years ago that this is what my ideological side of the aisle would become? I never would have believed it. NEVER.

As a STAUNCH, HARDCORE, LIFELONG, LIBERAL DEMOCRAT myself…allow me to just call this new, pathetic, insidious, word-policing horseshit that is currently sweeping the culture exactly what it is:

LIBERAL FACISM CENSORSHIP.

And, it must END NOW.

Like I heard a LIBERAL college professor say on NPR last week:

“Let me tell you something…if you get through four years of college without being offended…YOU NEED TO ASK FOR YOUR MONEY BACK.”

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home

Adorable Muff Fact #559: With my beloved kin of origin…when there is a serious family emergency and a push is made to mobilize help and support amongst the nearly dozen siblings…the first question is NOT is anybody in town or not busy working. The first question is always:

Who is NOT HOMELESS, STRUNG OUT, OR INCARCERATED?

Yeah, chuckle it up, Motherfuckers.

I’M NOT JOKING.

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TRUTH

Truth Coming Out of Her Well to Shame Mankind, 1896 by Jean-Léon Gérôme

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the magic kingdom

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Me and my most favorite person in the whole wide world…at my most favorite place in the whole wide world.

#disneyland

#myonetruelove

#luckyslut

 

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heart

I ACCEPT THIS CHALLENGE…with ALL my heart.
DO IT.
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