1. The past three days have been a throwback to the days of gut-wrenching anxiety about my daughter, with an added portion for my grandchild(ren)- One is still on the way. When I went over to visit her & Punkin on Tuesday, I left her apartment for a minute to go buy her a cheeseburger, when the tiny, sweet lady who lives next door to her stopped me and talked with me about what’s been going on over there between my daughter and her husband. As before, my daughter has been leading a double life. She smiles and tells me all is well, quite convincingly, but it’s not. This lady, who I’ll call Cat, has been a close and good friend to Sissy since they moved in to the complex. She’s been an ear for all the things Sissy hasn’t been telling me, namely that he’s abusive. And it’s not just a story she’s been telling Cat, the lady’s seen it. She’s heard it through the walls. She took her to the hospital on one of the nights he was “out” for an anxiety attack that took six hours to get her stabilized. She’s confronted Michael about it several times, only to be cussed and screamed at. Sissy was then discouraged from spending time with her.
- He’s shoved her against the wall with his hand on her throat.
- He gambles away significant portions of their money,
- She’s gone to Cat’s house hungry several times.
- She’s told Cat she thinks he’s on steroids again because he’s going to the gym again and getting “meaner”.
- She can’t stand outside her apartment and visit anymore because “Michael doesn’t like it”. (Same reason she’s not allowed to work or go anywhere: guys might try to talk to her).
- He screams at her to kill herself on a regular basis.
She was so upset and told me she’s begged Sissy to get away from him, to come home to us. Apparently, when the hospital found out what was going on, they told her the same thing. Not only is this chaos and stress hard on her, it could hurt the baby she’s carrying, as well as the harm it does Punkin, who lives in the big middle of it. Sissy told her she called me and that “she didn’t think we wanted her to come home”, which is a lie. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I found out. The only hint I had was when Jack told me they got in a big fight when he stayed with them while we went to the concert. I questioned him further after talking with Cat and found out that it got so bad Jack pulled a knife because he was afraid of what Michael was going to do, to which Michael told him he’d “knock him the fuck out”. To my 12 year old. He threatened her little brother. MY baby. NOPE.
2. When I told Beau, he headed to their place without telling me until he was halfway there. I was over at Ali’s, who lives close to Sissy, so we met him over there, all fully prepared to go to jail if we could get our hands on him. All of us, plus Cat, knocked on the door to confront the situation with Sissy, and try to get Landon out of there for a little while so we could take Michael outside and “deal” with him. He poked his head out and then hid in the bedroom. Savannah wouldn’t let us in and closed the door in our face, saying she was calling the cops. Cat called her, Ali texted her, both pleading to at least let us talk to her. Beau & I knocked on the door and window- me begging her to let us help, Beau calling him out to face him like a man. Neither happened.
3. I have a knot in my gut that tells me they might not let us have a close relationship, if any relationship, with the kids now. A couple of her messages have given me that impression. I can’t even go into that, it makes me feel like I’m going to throw up.
4. We had a sudden death of a close family member on Wednesday, who we go to bury tomorrow. He said he felt out of breath, stood up, and fell back in his chair dead. Buford was one of the most interesting people you’d ever meet, with a career in dealing and transporting exotic animals, full of stories and anecdotes, and a quick, dry wit. He is survived by his wife Helen, and his son, Terry. We just saw them a month ago. It is a big loss for the family and the friends he made everywhere he went. He will be missed very much.
5. It’s been a long, draining, nightmare week. Capped off with a funeral 500 miles away. Oh, and we signed the papers and deed agreement for the land and our new place yesterday. It’s hard to feel happy about anything right now.
jennipur, I agree completely. (Regarding the pictures of Mars above)
One of the oldest people in the world, a woman named Gertrude Weaver was born on the border of Texas and Arkansas in 1898, she grew up picking cotton because her parents were sharecroppers. I can only imagine what it must be like seeing what she’s seen.
At age five she lived through the invention of the airplane by the Wright Brothers.
Throughout her thirties and forties Gertrude would have watched as her rural communities got electricity for the first time.
She saw the world come to the brink of annihilation at the closing of World War I and then she saw man split the atom and in doing so nearly split the Earth at the closing of World War II.
She saw Turing break the enigma code and invent the path towards artificial intelligence.
At the age of 71 Gertrude watched as men walked on the Moon.
She’s seen us fling the Voyager spacecraft outside of the solar system and watched as robots landed on Mars, Titan and next year she’ll perhaps see us send the first robot to Pluto.
It’s hard for me to imagine how trippy life must feel to someone who, born under the white rule of sharecroppers to go from that sort of borderline peasant lifestyle, to watching all these incredible things happen. To someone like her I bet the world must seem quite remarkable.
People are on average, living to older and older ages and we were born much more recently than the time of sharecroppers. I’m so excited to see and learn what we discover:
“Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known." - Carl Sagan
Lovelovelove this reply. I’ve tried to imagine what that kind of change looks like to someone born so long ago. It must be a perpetual state of awe.
Jenny, Beau and the Pride. :)
Wow, this made me tear up.
The Highlight of the week: Birth by Maite Guerrero
"Water is pure. Water is oxygen. Mothers give birth in the water. The water soothes tears, while bringing joy. Water is pleasure, delight, emotion … holy water. There is nothing to equal the impact of water on us, the water gives us life. We are water." - with such short and strong description Spanish photographer Maite Guerrero, based in Barcelona, presented her one of the most beautiful and original projects, called "Birth". Water, as you probably already noticed that, is playing very important role here: it gives us life and creates thousands of elements in it everyday.
My Jenny and Beau…
Man, last night was badass.
I won’t go into detail as to why the three of us ended up at the bar but, let me just say… The relationship these two have is nothing short of incredible.
They had a rough day yesterday and the way they came together to squash it was crazy cool….
Thank you, sister. For these words, and for the fact that you saddled right up along with us like you always have when trouble hits. Of course we’ll always be just a call away for you. Like you said last night when I apologized for all the trouble, “Family first”.
And you are our family, in every sense of the word. Always.
Thank you for being willing to go to jail with us, especially in light of everything else you have going on. THAT is a solid example of selfless love. THAT is why you & I will grow old together. I love you so, so much.
For anyone reading, I’ll write out what happened last night soon. I just wanted to reblog this because Ali’s words about our marriage are precious to me. To have someone see us that way is just about the most meaningful compliment I can think of.
I love this
I love this too.
And as much as I’d like to believe there’s a truth beyond illusion, I’ve come to believe that there’s no truth beyond illusion. Because, between ‘reality’ on the one hand, and the point where the mind strikes reality, there’s a middle zone, a rainbow edge where beauty comes into being, where two very different surfaces mingle and blur to provide what life does not: and this is the space where all art exists, and all magic.
…And just as music is the space between notes, just as the stars are beautiful because of the space between them, just as the sun strikes raindrops at a certain angle and throws a prism of color across the sky —- so the space where I exist, and want to keep existing, and to be quite frank I hope I die in, is exactly this middle distance: where despair struck pure otherness and created something sublime.
— Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch (via liquidnight)
Thank you, sweet pea. So much.
Photo shoot was awful. I have no lighting right now, and my camera’s lens or view finder is fucked up. Everything shoots upwards and to the left, so it’s extremely hard to frame. Blah blah blah, shitty pictures. I’m only posting because of Roberto tryna call me out like a punk, so the last pic is just for you, my sweet;).
She already had it. Lololol
Fuck it, I tried.
I adore you, Sally Ruth.
My friend rustbeltjessie has a performance of this along with “When I Get Low I Get High” on her blog that is amazing, but I didn’t want to reblog her personal stuff. However, I am stuck on this song for the night, so here’s Jolie Holland doin’ the thang.
This song is sooooo sexy, goddamn.
Crazy sexy porn star hair- check
Pouty blood red lips- check
Black stockings- check
Knee-high leather boots (w/5 inch heels)- check
Husband at home to share this with- ……
Maybe I’ll take pictures
Maybe I’ll put my nightgown on and call it a loss.