--IF IT'S ABOUT WINNING, WELL, THEN, THAT'S ENTIRELY DIFFERENT

 …It’s morning and no one’s awake in the house.  Not even the dog, which is curled up on a pillow on the floor left of me.

…It’s going to be a great weekend, don’t you think?

…I’m ¾’s of the way into “American Horror Story.”  What a creepy show.  Jessica Lange is brilliant.

...Speaking of creepy, here’s something I wrote a while back:

 

                                               Relative

People say it’s strange what I did, but isn’t strange a relative term?

Before Bobby left me I was a masseuse.  Temptations come with a job such as that, on both ends.   I’ve read about Jesus being left alone with the devil in the wilderness for forty days and coming out a stronger, better man.  Frankly, I’m impressed as hell.  It was Twain or somebody who said, “The only thing I can’t resist is temptation,” and that’s a lot like me.

Bobby’s coke habit was just a little thing but then he got into horse and all bets were off, as they say.  He started hanging out with shady characters—Rudy and Antonio, Lorenzo, Blaze—and after a spell they started to seem normal to me, as if they were cousins visiting a little longer than you wished.  People on heroin are pretty much ghosts, even to themselves.  The only time they come back to life is on the slide down, and then it’s just Satan (funny, that’s the second time he’s come up) needling you to get your drug back on.

In order to be a successful addict, you basically have to be a millionaire.  Our bills piled up.  We sold off appliances, a car, then the other, and I’d have to take the bus to work.  I didn’t mind because that’s how deep my love was for Bobby.

When he suggested I take it further, accurately pointing out that all the other girls did, it hurt initially, but then he explained how love and sex were different entities, and even though I already knew that, his careful articulation was so poignant I cried afterward and hugged him so hard my jawbone nearly cracked.

Once I’d agreed, what had seemed so easy became a scary proposition (no pun meant here).  It was as if men saw me as cheap prey, hustling elsewhere, searching for a real challenge.  In time I landed a few fish, then a school of them, but still we were always broke, Bobby and I.

The fellow that changed everything was a dentist.  Starting off, he was nice enough, sort of kinky with the outfits he’d bring for me, until one day he brought along this girl he called, “Sierra.”  The going rate for what he wanted was top dollar and I did it not only once but several times.

One day Sierra showed up by herself and explained how she was Mr. Dentist’s daughter.  I didn’t believe her but the pictures she produced were undeniable. 

People don’t know the whole story because I never gave it until now.  The newspapers just described my wicked sinfulness, how I plunged that hypodermic needle into his neck like I knew where to aim, which I did.

Bobby found someone else naturally, but Sierra, she comes to visit me once a week.  In many respects, she’s like the daughter I never had.