the "social worker" i started seeing when i thought i'd get
in trouble for a letter that i wrote, we've been meeting off
and on for six years now. a couple of years ago, i wrote a
letter to some restaurant where the vaginas who worked as
waitresses were taking much too long to bring out food. my
letter was forwarded to the police department and they called
the social worker and forwarded a copy of the letter, i met
with both my social worker and the police.
when i was meeting just with brent, the social worker, he was
smiling proudly and he just seemed overwhelmed and uttered
the word "twisted". i can hear his audible whisper now:
"twisted". wow, what a compliment. i was an avid reader of
stephen king books as a child.
i wrote my mother a letter in which my mind was going "all
over the place," to take the name of an old bangles album.
she called me a bastard because i said that i get more
encouragement from brent than i get from her...actually, i
said "support," and so she called me a bastard and brought
up everything she did when i was comatose or in the rehab
hospital. i said, "how do you support me NOW". she never
twisted. that is really a badge of honor. i know my mom had
been talking to my sister, i'd be so much more honored if my
mom was just repeating my sister's words. "twisted". my
sister is a california liberal, a democrat...and if it was
originally her word then i'd be so honored.
people call me "twisted," i think of the lyric by stone
temple pilots that goes "you can't swallow what i'm thinking".
i hear nanny fine's voice: "i can't even PROCESS that, it
was so mean".
it is moments like this that get me to write more. my
social worker says that i should be published.
check out my site, www.jaggedlittledyl.com
, unless you're there now