First Posted 10 August 2007

Summer Storm

Current mood:contemplative

THUNDERCLAP!

I sat, bolt upright in my bed, primal instinct taking over, wide awake, looking out my window, sensing danger.

A brilliant flash of lightening right outside my window, right in front of me!

THUNDERCLAP!

Immediate, deafening. I cannot describe the sound. It's as if the harpies in hell let out a scream.

I leap from my bed and run out into the hallway, thinking that that was far too close. Flash again, and the thunderous sound shatters through the still summer air shaking the building. Zeus himself, king of the gods of Olympus, is on the roof of my penthouse,throwing his bolts of lightening down around us. My flatmate, Jerry, comes out his room and we make our way to the livingroom to see the coming storm. Another flash, right out on the beach, another deafening thunderbolt screams through my ears. There's no need to count between the flash and the sound, the storm is right over us, we are the storm. There is no time increment small enough between the speed of light and sound at this moment. They are one and the same.

But there's no rain. No clouds. No darkened skies. Another flash, and another, and another and three window shaking thunderous roars blast around us. I admit to feeling fear. This was scary. Intense. Like I said, primal. The instinct of our human ancestors, deep in pre-history, who ran and hid, shaking at the wondrous and deadly forces of nature around them are right at the surface. I am shaking at the wondrous and deadly force of nature, all around me. It's scaring the piss out of me. Then the rain comes. Drips, drabs, slowly dotting the pavement below. Then the wind, first breezy and then gusting, and then, a locomotive, increasing with the rain's intensity. The heavens open up over us and the rain is coming down, in all the cliches: buckets, sheets, cats and dogs. It's a torrent of water falling from the sky, nearly blotting out the shapes of the buildings around us. Then, the gods begin to send more from their lofty throne of clouds. Hail begins to ping, crash, slam, ping, dent, ping all around us. It's as if it's a cosmic game of marbles, gone terribly wrong. The beach bums are running, everywhere, anywhere, to find shelter from this new and painful stinging bounty from the sky. I watch through the bathroom window as the hail stones tear a beach umbrella apart.

FLASH!

THUNDERCLAP!

Zeus will not be denied his power and reminds me of his terrible might as another lightening bolt slams the ground not fifteen feet away from where I stand and thecacophony of sound once again shakes my soul. The smell of electricity and ozone permeates the air and I back away from the windowsill. It's metal. I am taking no chances.

Then more flashes, more thunder but now, there is a delay between them. The storm is losing it's power. Zeus has taken flight and is moving eastward, throwing his powerful bolts at other helpless mortals, the winds die down. The streets are now swirling rivers, swollen with the deluge of water that fell from the sky in a matter of minutes, the hailstones are melting. Apollo once again commands his chariot of the sun breaking through the clouds. Intense and bright.

And then it was over.

I retreat back to my bed. Shaking at the wondrous and deadly forces of nature, knowing how small and insignificant we are when Mother Earth unleashes her gods upon us.

First Posted 23 September 2004

Why I live here

I did get out of the house, originally to get a newspaper or ten since our pictures were in it but, I ended up stopping by my florist, The Art Of Flowers, and saying hullo to my good friend Becky. She does all the arrangements for our benefits and helps out at the Red Ribbon Bingo as the raffle ticket seller (Among other volunteering, she was awarded a Congressional citation for her work). She gave me a beautiful single stem yellow rose, the colour of friendship. How nice. I wandered down to my hair stylist at the House Of Hair but Margarita (who donated my latest hair style as part of the cause) was under the weather, so I left the rose for her to cheer her up when she comes in to the salon to-day. I moseyed on down to the boardwalk, it was rather warm in the sun and I now have a bit of a farmer's tan going on because of my midday constitutional, I wandered by my old restaurant (who donated dinner for two and an ad in our program book) and ignored everyone there, I just didn't feel they needed to see me, and took the walk through Caesars/Bally's Wild West/Bally's/Claridge/Sands (all owned by the same company and put an ad in our program book) because the sun was getting on my vampire nerves and the casinos are oh so air conditioned. Exiting the Sands (funny how no one noticed my hair among the blue and pink rinse set in the casinos) I made my way to the offices at the club to pick up my paycheck. Ellen Eccles (her husband was honored, posthumously for his help in our cause), the secretary in the offices, and I laughed about the mistakes in the Atlantic City Press (who put an ad in our program book and covered the event every year) and I picked up my check and cashed it at the Brass Rail, where I chatted with Ed, the asst. manager of the club (who donated his time the night of the pageant). I took the casino throughway back to the boardwalk but once again the sun beat down far to hard on my delicate skin so I ducked into the passageway that goes underneath Convention Hall (Miss America, let me hear you holla!) and took a Jitney bus (the Jitneymen's Association put an ad in our program book this year) home. I chatted on the computer all night with Shannon (who got the bug and will probably become our biggest supporter), a bartender at the club and we gossiped about everything. She's so cute. It is heartwarming to know that I live in a city like this. There are few places that you can live where the sense of community is this strong. Some people have often asked me what it is that keeps me in this city. This is why I live here.

First Posted 22 September 2004

Week-End Folllies

Friday, Miss America Parade night The parade was not as packed as usual due to the threat of rain, but it was still well attended. I was resplendant in a lime green turtleneck mesh dress with a train and my fabulous fuschia hair set it off just so. I also had a rainbow thong, from Macy's no less, underneath it all and I looked so hoochie. The "girls" and I made our entrance from the side lines and got the usual screams and shouts from the onlookers. At one point, we kind of stole the thunder from Miss New Jersey, since she happened to be going by when we made another appearance. Poor thing, she didn't have a chance of winning this year, anyway. The winds from hurricane Ivan were getting to be a bit much so I decided to wander back to the club to get ready for the "rilly big shew". It took a bit for the crowd to get there but when they did, it was insane. We had over seven hundred people there at the final count. Our opening number was "Cell Block Tango" from the movie/play Chicago. We made our entrance from out in the crowd, at different points and sauntered up to the stage before the vocals began. It was a big hit. Instead of the usual prison attire, we had cute little dresses made each in a colour of the gay flag. The rest of the show was just too fun, and I got many, many, many compliments on our performances. I revised my "Positively New Jersey" number, only this time, the New Jersey applique I had on my outfit was in the rainbow flag colours (made with glitter, of course). Thank you, Governor McGreevy. I was so glad that everything went off without a hitch and everyone had a great time. The rains started an hour after we got off stage. Thank you, angels. I think I finally snuck out of there around 3:30am. My voice began to sound like Bea Arthur. Saturday, Miss America crowning night I ended up being late for work. My flatmate woke me up to get my laundry moving along, even though he had off the rest of the night and I was not going to get sleep until Monday. I was a bit pissed. I got my stuff together and started to pack for Sunday's pageant. The Miss America pageant was on and I got a caught up in watching it (of course) so packing became a slow process and by the time I got to work, I was forty minutes late. No one noticed because no one was there, customer wise. When it got down to the top two, I wanted Miss Louisiana to win, just for the leopard print dress she was sporting but, she didn't. Boo! The televisions were on all throughout the club and I got to see the crowning. It was painfully slow the rest of the night, I think the torrential rain showers had something to do with it, and my manager was kind enough to let me go around 8:30a so I could rest in one of the rooms we had set aside for our dressing area. Sunday, Miss'd America Pageant I got four hours of sleep and got my ass out to the deck for rehearsal. The rains had stopped and once again the weather was spectacular. With all the angels in heaven who we do this show in honor of, we have been truly blessed with the weather for the last thirteen years. It took forever for all of the contestants and the other past Miss'd Americas to show up, I could have slept more. Bitches! Rehearsals went well, the props arrived, the jitney bus for our swimsuit number and the clapboard for the in between set breaks, they were too cute. We had our 5:00p dinner break and got ready for the shindig. The opening went well, it's always good when the audience laughs when you expect them to. For those of you who couldn't make it, the event on 5/11 that our Michael Mary Tyler Moore was filming a documentary about was Brittany Spears injuring her leg and having to cancel her tour. It was a tragedy, I know. We still suffer. I did my tear jerker number, "I Can See Clearly Now"-Holly Cole Trio, and lost it so bad, I cried for a half hour after I got off stage. I really can't do that number when it is such an emotional event and I haven't had sleep and have been under stress. Oh well, they are good tears if you shed them for friends. I put on my new Erte' dress and we crowned Andrea LaMour as Miss'd America 2005. I got changed and got rip-roaring drunk. By now, my voice had reached Brenda Vaccaro territory. As an aside, one of my best friends and his girlfriend showed up, way later, and I was not a happy camper with him. Nice to know that on the most important day of the year for me, I can count on him to come and support. Jerk. That goes for anyone else in this town that couldn't behoove themselves to show up, Lance! All in all, the event was a total success and I am so happy that we pulled it off again. Thank you to the past Miss'd Americas, the contestants, the staff of Club Tru/Studio Six, the S.J.A.A. and our judges. And all the people who came and supported our little madcap pageant. And especially Sandy Beach. You are truly an angel on earth. Monday, Coma Monday I slept all day and all night and had no voice what-so-ever.

First Posted 6 May 2004

Revival

I am listening to THE goth anthem, "Bela Lugosi's Dead", right now and am remembering my days as a black clad little poseur standing on South Street. It's so funny to see the little punters and punkettes that still flock to that area, even though there's a (gasps of HORROR!) GAP kids and other chain stores all over the street. They would have been burned down in my day, LOL. The anarchy of the movement is just lost on these kids. Suburban angst ain't what it used to be and the fact that these kids are using a movement's dress sense without the political and social reasoning behind it, is a bit pathetic. Still, it brings me back, seeing them with the mohawks and creepers and bondage pants. It's a shame that they didn't get a chance to go to Revival. That was a place where we could explore all of our differences, enact social change and do it all to a backbeat. The latest bands played downstairs, as well as moi, on Bad Boy Sundays, the drag extravaganza that gave me my formative proving ground that has been the basis for what I do today. Upstairs, in this desanctified former Seamen's Church, was the dance floor, with the famous backwards clock, rapidly spinning time into the past. Every sort of music could be heard here, and all the latest forms of music got a play. The core regular crowd consisted of such a diverse mix of people: punks, goths, mods, rockers, queers, preppies, trendies, new hippies, skinheads (yes them, too), proto-hip-hoppers, you name it. We all got along in this haven of diversity, each open to new ideas and experiences, in a hunger for acceptance and knowledge. The underground stars and a few not so underground stars came there, too. They knew that they could be in a club that appreciated them for what they did creatively, not who they were, famously. I've danced with Prince, Siousxie and the Banshees, Joey Arias, Mink Stole, Dead or Alive and Jade Starling to their music. It was a hedonistic place as well, the back rooms upstairs were always seeping with pot smoke, the bathrooms downstairs were used for the more, how shall I say, powdered libations, the upstairs bathrooms were the meeting place, where you checked your make-up and picked up guys. Or girls. Or whatever. I never felt unsafe. I never felt out of place. It was home for many of us, a living studio of performance art as life and the other way 'round. These kids will never know what it was like to ascend the steps and walk through the greek revival (natch) columns and enter the BEST GODDAM CLUB EVER! It's now a Coyote Ugly. That's just ugly.

First Posted 29 April 2004

All's well that ends not well.

Concerning my date, I did lie a little about the end of the evening. No I didn't go home with him, that's not what you do when you want to snag a partner for awhile, not an evening. Christ, he said he would either pick me up in a green Jaguar or a blue Audi, I ain't puttin' out yet! Patience shall be rewarded (Oh it was the Jaguar, natch). What really happened was, we got a bit lost trying to get to 30th Street Station from Center City, we ended up in University City somehow and by the time we got to the train station, I ran down to the platform and the train was pulling out. He waited a bit to see if I made the train, how gallant, and since I didn't, I checked my bus schedule and found that there was a bus in just 10 minutes, he drove me there. After a quick kiss goodbye, DAMN!, I ran in the bus terminal, through the police and the drug dealers and the homeless and the rude, screaming cabbies, purchased a ticket and queued to board the bus waiting at the gate. And waited. And waited. And waited. I had the inspiriation to check a current schedule, the one I had was from the early '90's, and found that I would be waiting a long time. I passed the time recalling the events of earlier in the day and before you know it, the bus opened up and I boarded and was whisked away to the island paradise known as Atlantic City. I did float home, just on a different cloud than the one I had said in the last entry. With my karma, I can't have everything go perfect. Something has to f*ck up at some point.

First Posted 27 April 2004

My (not so) Dangerous Laision

The day went almost exactly as I thought, I just didn't sleep on the main line. I had the best time. It was a very beautiful day. The sun was shining and the temperature was perfect. The outdoor cafes were open and the outfit I wore was just right, white short sleeve shirt over a white t-shirt and creme pants, brown shoes and a brown suede light jacket. I figured the white/light colour made me look a little more virginal then I am. No snide comments, please. We first went to a great, funky little coffee bar (not Starbucks, God forbid). I had a double espresso since I was up at an hour I am normally asleep, he took his coffee black. We talked about our familys and how we did the whole coming out thing. We then drove through Fairmount park and along boathouse row and parked the car on the Franklin Parkway so we could enter the Philadelphia Museum of Art from the famed front steps. The art museum was a great first date, a really good way to see if you click with a person, what their tastes are, how they perceive the world and such. You can talk, quietly of course, and not talk, just to see how comfortable (or not) those silences are. He likes impressionism, Renior and the like. I am more into the gothic religious works and the studys by Van Dyke and his followers. We both liked the sclupture, classical in style. We then went back to the South Street area to eat. The restaurant he chose was a trendy little eatery off of South Street. The food was tasty and the martinis' were perfection. We talked about work and schooling and careers. After dinner we walked through the area, South St. has changed but hasn't, if you know what I mean. Twilight was upon us so we walked through the Revolutionary War parks to an outdoor cafe for iced coffees. The conversation was light and animated, laying the groundwork for date number two. Since he had to get up god-awful early, he drove me to the train station. I floated home. All in all, it was a perfect day.

First Posted 22 April 2004

Time Line to Disaster

Well, I have a date. A real, honest to goodness, bonifide, grade-a date. I am freaking out. Thursday is the day. I am smiling so hard, my eyes are shut. I am freaking out. I have not been on a "real" date in a very long time. I have never been on a date with someone that I didn't already kinda know, so this is going to be very weird. I am freaking out! Oh Christ! What the hell am I going to wear. Tomorrow morning I think I will be on my way to Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love and my second adopted home town. Atlantic City is the first and now Boston is the third (I'm all over, like dog poop). I think I will be taking in the Philadelphia Museum of Art, a favourite haunt, to see the Manet and the Sea exhibit and stroll around Franklin Parkway to the Rodin Museum, then maybe along the Schyulkill River and Fairmount Park, it should be a nice day and I will throughly enjoy the trip. Afterword, I think a nice dinner at a small restaurant known for it's laid back atmosphere and good food, and then I think I'll maybe make a stop for an after dinner cocktail (martini, natch) at a trendy watering hole where the well heeled go to kick up their Pradas. I'll make it an early evening so I think I'll probably go back to the Main Line, and rest my head on a big comfy pillow, and dream the dreams of small children and the insane. I think. Should any of this happen, I'll definitely be declared mad. Mad, bad and fabulous to know. Well, all the plans are set, I am packed and about to get showered and changed and I'll be taking the train to Philadelphia for an afternoon rendezvous. Can you say, excited? I hardly slept and I feel like a little kid, Christ, I need a valium. For those of you astute enough to notice that I packed a bag, that's none of your business, smarty pants. I'll probably be home tomorrow afternoon, so don't wait up...

First Posted 21 April 2004

A Lament For Class

Oh hear and be mournful for the death of class. Bow your head in shame for the end of propriety. Fall to your knees in despair for the collapse of social mores. Long have we suffered the wasting away of all that was good and decent. Long have we stood by witnessing the slow ebb of polite society fade into eternal slumber. I say to you, wail and clutch at your breast in shame for what the masses pass off as acceptable behavior in this dark day and age. When did "Yo!" replace "Excuse me?"? When did clothing become so agressive and threatening instead of smart and clean? When did grown men begin dressing as juvenile delinquents and not like grown men? When did grown women begin dressing as child prostitutes instead of grown women? When did wearing a bikini top, a thong, low rider jeans and sandals become fashionable in the dead of winter? When did screaming into a mobile phone replace talking to the person next to you? When did screaming in public into a mobile phone become acceptable? When did demanding replace asking? When did we lose the practice of saying "Hello." or "Thank you." or "Good-bye."? How about "Please?" or "May I?"? Why don't we say "God bless you." to a stranger who sneezes? When did a martini become acceptable to drink out of a plastic cup? When did champagne become acceptable to drink out of the bottle? Alone? Why don't we write thank you notes for gifts or parties or favors done for us anymore? Why do we let a pregnant woman stand on the bus? Why do people tell you the most intimate/horrifying details of their life when you ask, "How are you?"? Lo and behold the bitter crop that we have sown. No wonder cocooning is a national sport. It's a horrible world out there. Forever gone are the days when one knew that to live in society, you have to behave socially. There were rules of behavior. To be polite, to mind your manners, to follow the golden rule. That golden rule, my dear fellow mourners, is not just tarnished, it was melted down and stuck on someone's front tooth. Class is dead. Services will not be held. No one is polite enough to show up

First Posted 21 April 2004

Holy-Daze

Easter is kind of a weird holiday for me. Not really into the whole Jesus-comes-out-of-the-tomb-sees-his-shadow-and-we-have-six-more-weeks-of-lent thing, and I never really liked the jelly bean bunny poo left all over the baskets. And buttercreme chocolate eggs, uugghh! I didn't mind the new clothes that we would go and get, I just hated having to wear the fashions of the decade I was a child in. Well, that's not true. I hated not being able to pick out what I really wanted to wear. Halston didn't make a children's line, that bitch. I did always enjoy getting together with my family, especially my Aunt Janet. She was, in her own way, my Auntie Mame. I learned every dirty word, raunchy joke and disgusting bodily function from her. I learned how to play cards, especially Crazy Eights. I learned from her what beer tasted like. Hated it. And Vodka. LOVED IT! It was always a treat going to see her, as you can imagine. She always let me sit at the adult table, my sister and cousins hated me. I felt was always above them, anyway. They never got my humor. Now-a-days, the family has moved around and far away, and with work and life and divorce and death, we rarely get together as we used to. It's a shame. I think, just as a way of honoring those long ago days, I'm going to buy a new pair of dress shoes, a bad polyester suit from Penny's, leave the product out of my hair and go visiting the folks. On the holiday. Hey it can't hurt, except my feet. When's Easter?

First Posted 21 April 2004

Red Ribbon Bingo

Sunday night was the return of Red Ribbon Bingo at the Sands Hotel and Casino in their Copa Room. This is an event we haven't held in a year due to the management changes the Sands has gone through. Hell, they go through more CEO's in a year than we go through stockings. The event was a smashing success. Each game was sponsored by a local business, we received a slew of raffle prizes and we had a great turnout. I got to play with the bingo balls all evening. Fun for me! The evening got off to a great start because the first ball I called was O-69. If you've been there, you know what that means. With the inclusion of past Miss'd Americas, Lemon Fresh Joy and Morgan Wells, the event is shaping up to be a fabulous must-see each month. We raised a great deal of money for the South Jersey A.I.D.S. Alliance (SJAA), money they badly need to battle this hateful disease and help those in need who are living with it. I hope to see you there next month

First Posted 21 April 2004

My building has this low shudder, every now and again. It's a bit disconcerting, like a low scale tremor you might feel on the west coast. The rumble and noise of the heavy machinery out on the beach are the cause. It's a twenty-four hour-a-day operation to replenish the beach on Absecon Island. Finally the downbeach communities have relented and agreed to have their beaches replenished as well and the whole island will now have the beaches it once had twenty years ago. Kind of. The reason those other communities on our isle were originally opposed to the project was the fact we will have to put dunes on the beach. That's something new to our coastline. And the dunes are almost a story high, blocking the views of those several million dollar homes that line the beach in the more restricted sections of our shared barrier-island strip of land. So as you can imagine, the few very wealthy residents in their floor-to-ceiling window bungalo/mansions had tried to block saving the beach for the tens of thousands of residents and millions of visitors (can you say "shoobie") that live in and visit our little corner of the world. In the past, we would only add to the Atlantic City beaches. But after all the expense, and after a few winter nor'easters, all the sand would wash away to the more southern community of Wildwood, on whose beaches you now actually have to drive to get to the ocean. So I will put up with the shudder, and they will have to put up with looking at dunes so all of you can come on down this summer and enjoy our brand new, wide, fresh beaches. You see, I don't go on the beach, and the shudder will end soon, and I live in a penthouse overlooking the beach and ocean so I don't care about the dunes. "If you have a tan, that means you work in the fields"-Marie Antoinette

Working Backwards To A Funeral (Part I)

Insomnia is once again my best friend.

The last few days have been full of fitful sleep and vivid dreams, making me toss and turn throughout the night. Finally, I'll give in and get out of bed sometimes wasting the extra hours of unwanted time, like this morning, on the Internet, surfing through the flotsam and jetsam on Facebook or one of the many news sites I subscribe to, reading up on the same stories that I am hearing, simultaneously, on Good Morning America. Then there are the other times I'll get directly out of bed, grabbing cleaning supplies and getting my weekly chores done in the early morning hours before everyone else wakes up.

Although today wasn't a total waste of time, I did begin my laundry and had to wander out in the rain, collecting the lawn furniture and trash bins that blew around the yard and driveway. I'm concerned that the heavy rains and winds may have damaged the new plantings but it'll be a while before I can make an assessment.

Later today, I have to get to the gym and then it's off to Hammonton for a little get-together with Stephen Moore. He's taking me out for a belated birthday celebration, the details of which I'm not privy to but I'm sure it will be a great time. I'm glad I woke up in good spirits today...

...unlike yesterday. I was exhausted from the day before and thought I'd sleep like the dead but I was wrong. I was up every half hour and never got to the R.E.M. sleep that's crucial to providing the benefits that a deep sleep possesses and because of that, I was in a foul mood the entire day. I was getting pissy reading people's Facebook status updates, I was getting annoyed at the cat who only wanted the usual attention he gets in the morning, I hated the coffee I was drinking, I was irked at the dogs for wanting to play, my hair was thisclose to being shaved totally off my head, my elbow was inexplicably hurting and I could barely bend it, I was just a completely miserable, hateful person. I sat at the computer and stewed in my bile, wishing something would come along to salvage the day. The only saving grace was that as the afternoon wore on, Claudia didn't show up. Helene's pet project has assumed that she can come here each and every day, whether Helene's here or not, and sprawl across the couch from ten in the morning to ten at night, pontificating on and questioning every movement I make in my own house. She's actually a nice person but she can be a busy body and ask too many questions. And she is a huge mooch.

So, that being said, I was damned glad she wasn't there and I didn't have to deal with her in my dark mood.

Even with my elbow hurting me, I decided that I would go to the gym. That's always a great place to work out your frustrations and get some Zen. Maybe throwing around some heavy objects in the name of Narcissus would spur the manufacture of some endorphins to elevate my mood.

Maybe.

I got ready although I procrastinated, taking my sweet ol' time. The gym would be there and the overcast skies and my elbow weren't helping with my motivation. I finally left the house and began walking to the gym, listening to my mp.3 player along the way, scrolling through the songs one after another because they were all annoying me. It would have been a good day for some speed-metal or gloomy Goth-rock but, sadly, I had downloaded mostly upbeat songs, sixties girl groups and some eighties New Wave.

I was around Richard's Avenue in Ventnor when my mobile rang. I thought it was Miss Patti, who usually rings me when she's walking to work but I was mistaken, it was Helene. I answered and she wanted to know what I was doing and I told her I was on my way to the gym. She said, "Okay, never mind" and hung up and I breathed a sigh of relief because, knowing her, she had something for me to do, something I probably wouldn't like and with her "never mind", I was off the hook. But before I could count my blessings, she rang me back and went right into her request. And I knew by her tone that I had no choice but to agree with whatever it would happen to be. I girded my loins and asked her what she needed from me.

Doris, her other pet project, had to go to hospital, NOW and I had to go with her! She's been having trouble swallowing and just threw up her breakfast and was coughing and choking. I halfheartedly tried to get out of going, reminding Helene that I was on the way to the gym but I knew that it was a lame excuse and I turned around and began the trek back home. I got the final details from her and hung up the phone and my mood, which was rather dark to begin with, turned pitch black.

Doris has early-onset Alzheimer's among a long list of other ailments which I won't go into here. Her daily pill regimen would kill a bull elephant. Helene wanted me to go with her so I could talk to the hospital staff on Doris' behalf and listen to the diagnosis and inform Helene of everything that transpires. Doris is very forgetful, especially in stressful situations and she would have gotten the entire diagnosis wrong. I understood the reasons she wanted me to go and I agreed with them (better safe than sorry) but I was in no mood to do this. I also knew that it was going to be a waste of time, that it was Helene's overreaction that was sending Doris to hospital, not Doris' condition. I got home and changed out of my gym clothes and put on jeans and a hoodie and off we went to Shore Memorial Hospital, driving down the island and going over the Longport bridge to Somers Point, where the hospital is located. Doris' driving is another matter altogether! She's a madwoman on the roads, very aggressive and rarely follows even the most basic traffic rules. Like speed limits. Like red lights. Like turn signals. Like signs. So driving with her is another drama-rama to add to my already lovely and lighthearted mood.

We finally got to hospital, which is under construction, and she was complaining that all the parking is gone, driving everywhere trying to find a spot. Complaining as if they actually started the construction months ago and tore up the streets and former parking lot because they knew that on Tuesday, the seventeenth of May, Doris would need to park at the hospital and it was their goal to annoy her.

We finally found a spot and went to the packed emergency room, filled out the forms and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

You see, she's presenting no actual threat to her life, since she's talking and breathing with no problem so her choking complaint is low on the triage list. So we waited.

And waited some more.

Finally, they called her name and off we went to the back so she could get the "once over". Suffice to say, after prodding, poking, orifice eyeballing and an X-ray, they concluded she needed to see a specialist. Which she already has an appointment for on Thursday.

To sum it up, it was a COLOSSAL WASTE OF MY TIME!!! By now it was six at night, too late for me to get to the gym (they close at seven p.m) and my day was completely shot.

We left and I rang up Helene and left a message about Doris' condition and had Doris take me to Wawa so I could get some provisions and she went about her business. I walked home through the drizzle and I opened my front door and noticed the telly was on and I heard a "Hello" and realized that my hateful day just got even worse:

Claudia was sprawled all over the couch!

I simply greeted her back, curtly, grabbed my things and went to the bedroom, where I hid until she left, at ten-thirty.

I took my Lunesta once she left, climbed into bed and that brings me back to the beginning of this entry.

Random Thoughts And Observations

I was at the gym yesterday and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was very happy with what I saw. It was one of those quick looks that you do where you don't realize who you're looking at and you're like, "Who's that nicely built person?" and then you notice that it's you! I don't think I'll ever get the body I had over a year ago but I like how I look now, after a little more than two months of working out. I guess the muscles were still in there, hiding from me all this time. If anything, going back to the gym has done wonders for me. Giving me a constructive outlet instead of sitting on my ass and pestering everyone on Facebook has been a great thing. And my walks to and from the gym are giving me that time to compose my thoughts for journal entries. That's where I used to always come up with the inspiration for some of my most eloquent blog entries. I can't wait to get to the gym today which means I am obsessed...again. Miss Patti is already gloomy at the prospect of trying to design dresses for my broadening shoulders.

I've been reading the New Yorker religiously. It's Helene's subscription but she doesn't read it, she really has no time to. I read each issue almost cover-to-cover (although I am a few weeks behind). It's amazing how prescient they are! Some of the topics they discuss and the predictions they make are scarily accurate. Being behind in the issues, I'll read an article and compare it to current events and sometimes, I'm astounded at how accurate they were/are. Reading about the Big Apple, though, is making me want to go there, Big Time!

Death And Squalor

I woke as usual on Wednesday, immediately logging onto Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/mortimerlove?ref=profile) and checking out what happened during the night, since I usually log off around eleven and go to sleep. The show "Glee" (http://www.fox.com/glee/) had been on the night before and it always elicits a huge amount of comments among my gay boy/straight girl friends. The rest of the morning was going fine, I got my breakfast of oatmeal with some fresh blueberries, orange juice and coffee, getting back on my self-imposed diet. Because I was up in Philadelphia for so long, I hadn't been to the gym so I planned to go at some point during the day. I didn't really feel like going, it's so easy to find other things to do when you haven't been there in a few days. Although, when I do go on a regular basis, it can't think of any place else I'd rather be.

I did some laundry and yard work, taking my time to get ready for the gym, total procrastination but I figured I'd get there, sometime.

Then my mobile rang. It was Helene.

She was calling with bad news. Tammy, Doris' step-daughter, had just died. Tammy's mother, Nellie, rang Helene first with the news, understandably distraught and hysterical. And before I could even ask what happened, Helene asked me if I could go with Doris to Vineland to be with the family since she would be upset and needed someone to ride with her. Helene couldn't do it herself because not only was she working but was also on her way to Philadelphia with Evelyn, the woman she cares for as an in-home health-care aid. Reluctantly, very reluctantly, I agreed to go. The reason why I was so hesitant will become painfully clear as the story progresses.

I had been out in the garden so I was a little dirty but now I had no time for a full shower. I did a quick clean-up and got dressed and by the time I was done, Doris was there and off we went (after expressing my condolences, of course). By now, I had found out what happened and it really didn't surprise me. Tammy had died of an overdose. She had an appointment to be in court that morning for violating the conditions of her last conviction, i.e. staying clean. Evidently this is the third or...eighth time this happened and supposedly the judge was going to throw the book at her. I gather she was doing a "last shout" before having to go to jail. What makes this even more tragic and despicable is that she has three children (in their teens/early twenties) and, through her schemes and welfare assistance, is the soul provider for the house. Now, her little private heroin party not only cost her her life, but will totally devastate the family when they will eventually lose their home.

It's a sad situation compounded by even more pathetic complications, as you will see.

The ride there was interminable, since I was not in the mood to deal with all this madness. I kept Doris distracted as much as I could, telling her stories of my trip to Philadelphia and lying about performing up there. There was no need to go into my problems at that moment. She was pretty calm and collected until we got to the cross street we needed to turn down to get to the house. The city had it blocked off for construction/repair and Doris, in her imitable style, turned on a dime into the parking lot of the convenience store to our right, nearly hitting the car that was exiting and driving right over the curb. I slammed on the "passenger brake" and clutched the seat for dear life!

Here's where I should inform you that Doris is suffering from early-onset Alzheimer's. She is under medical supervision and is taking the latest drug regimen but there are breaks with memory and skills common to those with the disease/condition. Her driving, though, has always been erratic and has, so far, not been affected by the disease. She's a bit of a speed demon and far too aggressive (read: road rage) for her own good.

We figured out an alternate route to the house from the other end of the block and drove down the street looking for a place to park. Without her telling me, I could tell which house it was by the assorted riff-raff gathered on the front porch and the police vehicles parked out in front of the brick home. She brazenly pulled into the driveway and we got out of the car, making our way through the ramble of people who did not behoove themselves to even step aside to let us in the house. They were sitting and standing everywhere, some were eating and chatting loudly which I found a bit distasteful, considering Tammy's body was still in the house! I could hear dogs constantly barking from somewhere nearby. We walked through the screen door and into the front hallway. To our immediate right was an old-fashioned front parlour and I saw, right away, the squalor these people were living in. It was dark and full of dust and lacked any furniture to sit on. There were parts of a cheap entertainment center haphazardly set along the walls, made of pressed fiberboard and filled with personal mementos, and a vintage television along the back wall, in front of the cobweb encrusted curtains and blinds. The beige (I think) carpet was filthy with stains and dirt and the smell of dog waste hit us as soon as we entered. Nellie's bedroom was to the left but the door was shut and there were people standing throughout the house, smoking cigarettes although I don't recall seeing an ashtray let alone anyone using one. We made our way past her son's and daughter's bedrooms who's doors were (mercifully) shut and into the kitchen. Doris was adamant that she wanted to see Tammy's body but the police informed her that no one could go into the room until the coroner came and inspected the scene. From what I could see of the kitchen, it was in the same state as the parlour. Little to no furniture or appliances and devoid of clutter but not exactly clean. We went back down the hall and I couldn't help but despair at the condition of this once-beautiful house. The aged dark-wood door frames, the hardwood floors, the plaster ceilings and moldings were phenomenal but the fact that it was not maintained broke my heart.

Yes, I admit: I was more concerned for the house than the family undergoing their self-inflicted tragedy.

We entered Nellie's room which was dark and disheveled, a condition that I think is normal and not because of the recent events. She was sitting on the bed in her house dress that didn't quite cover her legs, especially since she was in a sitting position. I was standing at the foot of the bed and got a most unwanted view. There were people milling about and I was informed to make sure the door stayed shut. I really didn't mind except for the fact that I was on that side of the door! The conversation quickly became personal amongst the family members (burial method, financial decisions, etc.) and I hurriedly made my way out of the room when someone else came in. I stood in the parlour, text messaging people and accessing Facebook, watching the people come in and hug and cry with the family. The city chaplain came in and did his thing, comforting the immediate family and friends and was a welcome sight, since he was able to answer questions and knew the drill. After a bit, I felt completely out of place and I went outside and stood on the sidewalk out front, since no one on the porch made me feel the least welcome. The ambulance service and coroner came and the oldest son moved Doris' car out of the driveway and parked it down the street. The ambulance backed into the driveway and pulled all the way back to the rear of the house, out of my line of sight, thankfully. I went back in just to see what was going on and they were letting those family members who wanted to to view the body before they bagged her and took her to the morgue.

I went back out, refusing the offer to see Tammy. No, I really don't want to view a dead heroin addict who's bowels have released, who's blood has settled to the one side of the body and has been lying there for hours in an un-air-conditioned room, thank you anyway.

I fled to the street again and rang up Miss Patti and told her what was happening. She was my little glimmer of normalcy and hope in this tempest of misery I was unceremoniously thrust into.

I wandered down the street to the car, watching the neighbors who were watching the events happening on their street. I began to notice how nicely maintained the other homes on the block were. The lawns were mowed, flowers were planted, hedges were trimmed, it was all very nice and orderly, all of them with Tammy's house the only exception. I couldn't help but think they might have been a bit relieved. I'm sure they were well aware of what happened and probably thought that this would facilitate a vacancy of the house since this was the problem house of the neighborhood. The police were there so often for fights and squabbles that it had become a constant but commonplace nuisance. I sat in the car for a while and then paced up and down the street, admiring the beautiful day, finally watching as the ambulance pulled out of the driveway and took Tammy's body away.

I went back in and after some more discussion of the funeral arrangements, Doris (thankfully) was ready to leave. I gave the family my respects once more, hugged Nellie and quickly made my exit back to the car and we drove home, uneventfully. The conversation on the way home, however, was odd. It seems that the family is under the impression that Tammy committed suicide instead of a dying of an overdose. Frankly, I could care less.

Once home, I went back out into the garden.

The funeral is this coming Thursday. Helene wants me to go.

Once more, into the breach.