She’s Glad Her Mom Died

Posted on August 24, 2022 by Sister Wolf

I’m Glad My Mom Died is the title of a new memoir by a former child actress I’ve never heard of, and it’s a best seller. It has received more attention than any other recent book that’s not about Donald Trump, and the response to it seems uniformly favorable.

For all I know, Jeanette McCurdy is a good writer. But it’s the shocking title that seems to please reviewers most. How daring of her! Good for her! The book is a chronicle of abuse by a terrible, exploitative and seemingly mentally ill stage mother whose conduct sounds like something from a Grimms’ Fairy Tale.

But now the mom is safely dead from cancer and Jeanette is sharing her story of suffering and redemption all over the internet to hearty accolades, not least from others who hate their parents and share her bold sentiment. A piece in the Huffington Post reveals that “it’s not uncommon to feel that way.” Uh-oh.

Naturally, as a mother I find this chilling. As a mother estranged from an adult child, I can’t help feeling the title embodies my worst fears. I know my adult child wants nothing to do with me for reasons only he understands. I mean, I know I wasn’t perfect and I yelled a lot. And abuse is in the eye, and narrative, of the self-proclaimed abused party.

But it pains me to think that my death will actually be celebrated, you know? I guess it won’t matter since I won’t be around to be horrified.

Back when I learned about forums for adult children who hate their mothers, I had to stop looking at their posts when someone admitted to feeling no grief upon losing their parent. They weren’t exactly proud of their reaction, like Jeanette seems to be, but rather a little defensive. The other mommy-haters on the forum reassured the griefless adult child that they looked forward to the death of their parent and the relief it would bring.

Since I can only speak for myself, and my own narrative of my experience as both a mother and an adult child of a mother, I guess it’s not for me to judge these damaged victims of bad parents. But it seems like the title “I’m Glad My Mom Died” is somehow acceptable in today’s zeitgeist (sorry!) of proud victimhood and trauma survivors, whereas the title “I’m Glad My Daughter Died” would never be published, let alone applauded.

Is it because it’s reasonable to hate your mom but not your daughter? What about “I’m Glad My Dog Died” or even “I’m Glad My Neighbor Died’? None of these work, do they?

My guess is it’s because the Awful Mother is now a staple of our cultural landscape, from Carrie to Mommy Dearest and beyond.

Mother’s can’t win, is my feeling. The best of us are still not good enough, although Donald Winnicott disagrees. (More about the concept of the good-enough mother here.) Our mistakes engender bitter resentments that time cannot eradicate for many. But it’s my belief that whatever you do as a parent will be wrong. All you can do is try your hardest to make the best decisions you can, to get help if you see you’re fucking up, and to love your kids unconditionally.

I’ve come to forgive my mother for her shortcomings and her bad behavior with the awareness that she was a complicated person shaped by her own difficult childhood. I’m not glad she died; I’m screwed up but I’m not heartless.

Jennette McCurdy tells an interviewer somewhat self-righteously that she’s “done the work” to earn the right to her title. Whatever that means. Is she sorry she was born? I’d like to ask her that. Because she owes her existence to her mother, which is not nothing.

And now she’s making a fortune by speaking Her Truth about her mother. She also complains in the book about her Nickelodeon co-star Ariana Grande’s greater success, which could lead to another brave best seller if Ariana could only die.

Just kidding! You do you, mommy haters.

Thoughts and insults, anyone?

 

* Giaquinto di Corrado Bottega, Medea, 1752, Hinton Ampner National Trust

 

Posted in Art, Celebrities, grief, Horrible Stuff, Words | Tagged , , , | 7 Comments

Kim and Pete: The Dream is Over

Posted on August 14, 2022 by Sister Wolf

I know I should have seen it coming but let’s call me a hopeless romantic, or just a dope. When Pete talked about wanting to be a father, I heard wedding bells (and calls to available surrogates.) But then…you know the rest.

I need to know why! And who dumped who. Let Pete be the dumper, if you’re listening Jesus! How can they turn on a dime like that? Did something happen in Australia? Did Pete’s BDE fail him, or did Kim suddenly realize that he’s white?

When their thing was first reported, I was amazed by the incongruity just like everyone else. What the hell? I thought. But as it continued, I began furiously projecting. Kim must be smarter than we thought, if Pete likes her. In our narrative of Pete, he’s too smart and sensitive to waste his time on an idiot. She would have to have real substance as a human being, right? This meant that Kim Kardashian is not what she appears to be, e.g. an insufferable narcissist and plastic surgery addict!

And given Kim’s imagined ability to have any man, this meant that Pete is not only a great fuck but also a dynamic paragon of manliness. Plus, she introduced him to the kids!

I found myself daydreaming about Kim and Pete. Mostly it was hazy soft porn. I tried to imagine Pete’s frail physique juxtaposed with Kim’s gigantic mounds of silicone. On the one hand, ew. But on the other hand, I really wanted to visualize how it would work. I think this could be called mental fan-fiction.

I studied every picture of them to parse their body language. Their hand-holding was so cute! Their goofy selfies! Their trips to exotic beaches!

I was googling Kim-and-Pete several times a day. I couldn’t get enough. It as like a Novella only with higher stakes. And here’s the worst thing of all: I watched the Kardashian show for the whole season, eager for news about the budding love affair and for hints that Kim was not an idiot. My husband humored me and watched it too. We agreed that Kendall was painfully stupid but he thought Kourtney was even stupider. It’s a tough call, I guess.

At least I won’t have to watch any more of that crap. No more of their giant nothing-colored living rooms and staged heart-to-heart confidences. No more reminding my husband of how much Kylie has done to her face and how much weight Khloe has lost. No more of those nude lipsticked fish-pouts!

But when I woke up and heard about the break-up, I was devastated. I am not making this up; I was stunned and heartbroken. Could it be a mistake? Maybe so, because we didn’t hear it firsthand from Kim or Pete.

Now I’ve accepted that it’s over, and my hurt has turned to resentment. I feel cheated and duped. First I thought it was selfish of them to take away our only moments of respite from anxiety and global catastrophe. Now I’m wondering if the whole entire thing was a publicity stunt. So was it?? A friend believes it was a publicity stunt AND they also slept together. Whatever.

Now that Pete is history, clarity has returned and I see that Kim is indeed a big ho who can’t take her eyes off herself for a single minute and will do anything to hold the world’s interest. How dare she wear Marilyn’s dress! May she put on all the weight she’s lost and then some. May she take a fall down some stairs in those stupid stiletto heeled shoe-pants. God I hate her. I’m going to unfollow her on Instagram as soon as I wind this up.

I hope Pete can start dating someone twenty years younger than Kim whose butt doesn’t need a wheelbarrow to carry it and who doesn’t need hair extensions. I will forgive Pete for this slip-up because he is chronically depressed, genuinely funny, and because of that big dick. JUST KIDDING about the dick, of course, because a big brain is way more exciting, right ladies?

All we need to do now is predict Kim and Pete’s next love interests. Thoughts??

Posted in Celebrities, Disorders, love | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

Don’t Look Down

Posted on August 1, 2022 by Sister Wolf

Not long ago, I saw my own thigh in the sunlight though my bathroom window and I screamed. EW! Whose leg is that? I thought. I’m not kidding; that was my actual thought. I guess I expected to see my thigh as it exists in my memory. Not the world’s best thigh, but not a dry crepe-y one with no muscle tone. Today as I walked my dog, wearing cut off jeans because of the awful, muggy heat, I looked down and saw it again. Truly an old thigh, commensurate with my age but no less disappointing and even shocking.

You think this is stupid and shallow but just wait. You too will experience this cognitive dissonance unless you go blind, in which case you’ll have a while different set of problems. Since I rarely look at my own body in bright sunlight, I had no idea this was happening. A person I know who inspects every inch of her body and face every single day and exfoliates with a stiff vegetable brush will never be taken by surprise.

But keeping shit from falling apart is just too time consuming. It already takes me forever to get ready for bed, and my beauty routine is practically non-existent. Have  you guys seem Kim Kardashian’s new skincare line with nine (or 12?) products that she says are essential to use together in a certain order? Forget the cost. The time spent at your sink would move bedtime to around 4:am. No, Kim, don’t make me!

So being an old bag leaves you very few choices of how to visualize and project your image to yourself and the world. On one end of the spectrum is Paulina Porizkova, who at 57 never stops bitching about how the male gaze won’t acknowledge her aging appeal while shoving her remarkably well-preserved body in our face nonstop on Instagram.

Paulina rose to fame at just 18 years old as the first Central European woman to be on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. Almost 40 years later, Paulina said she still feels sexy and hated society’s obsession with looking youthful. Despite still feeling confident though, the mother-of-two said younger men haven’t been interested in her.

 

daring to look her age!

 

Haha Paulina, you hate the obsession with looking youthful? I guess all the bikini shots are just something you do for fun.

She said: “I am now completely invisible.“I walk into a party, I try to flirt with guys and they will just walk away from me mid-sentence to pursue someone 20 years younger.”

God, just shut up Paulina and fuck off. Eat some sandwiches. If you want to hear more of this faux insecurity, check out her Instagram.

At the other end is Bridget Fonda, who has evidently rejected all efforts at looking young and attractive. When I first saw a recent picture of her, I didn’t believe it. It could not be her. Even though regular non-celebrities look old and fat when they’re old and fat, Bridget Fonda’s transformation is just startling. She is unrecognizable.

then and now

I felt sort of betrayed by Bridget. I should have admired her courage to stop pursuing a narrowly defined ideal of female beauty. Maybe she’s trying to live the opposite existence of her aunt Jane, whose face is now a clownish travesty

Somewhere in between these two extremes is a healthy outlook on aging. I just can’t find it.

It’s not the male gaze that bothers me. It’s my own gaze in the cruel morning light of my bathroom. I’m going to get some under eye filler and then go around pretending that I’d never get any filler, just like J. Lo and everyone else.

And I’ll stop wearing cut offs or just remember to not look down. Aging is so horrible! I just googled the insulting term “aging gracefully” and found a list of tips. I’m not going to follow any of them, because of my PDA, but you can if you want to.

Thoughts, ladies and gays?

Posted in Disorders, News | Tagged , , | 27 Comments

Because I’m a Monster

Posted on July 22, 2022 by Sister Wolf

Boris

It has been a long and dismal few months. Our wonderful dog, Boris, passed away with cancer at 14 years old. Our whole world went dark. I realized that yet again I have lost a treasured part of my identity: Boris’s mom.

With the new silence in our house, we began to contemplate getting another dog. No dog could replace Boris, the sweetest most soulful Australian Shepherd. But I’ve had four dogs in my adult life and loved each one for their unique qualities. So we started looking.

We hoped for another Aussie. For one thing, they are just beautiful, and because we are shallow, we enjoyed the compliments each time we went out with Boris. We also loved the intelligence and loyalty of herding dogs.

We searched adoption pages and found Pepper, a 4 year old Aussie who was described as adventurous, smart, loving, great on walks and in the car. We drove for 90 minutes to meet her at the home of a rescue lady who had 20 dogs inside her sprawling ranch house. Sorry for writing “sprawling ranch house” but I’m in a hurry to get through this story.

Pepper jumped on us and seemed pretty wild but we were assured that she was just excited. We paid $600 for Pepper and signed a contract.

Driving home, Pepper barked and struggled to get into the front seat all the way home.

Once home, Pepper bounced off the walls. She was happy to jump on the couch for affectionate petting, but impossible to control. The next day, she was even wilder. She was supposed to know some commands but wouldn’t acknowledge any. She was an ordeal to walk. She started giving me hard, unblinking looks. She jumped over me on the couch, nearly knocking me over. She attacked her dog-bed, dragging  it around the house and growling.

So we called the rescue lady and said we couldn’t deal with Pepper. On the drive back, Pepper kept jumping on my thighs in her effort to get into the front seat. and we were rear ended by an SUV. The rescue lady could barely restrain Pepper when she took the leash. We felt giddy with relief when we drove off to Starbucks, the bruises blooming on my thighs.

Next, we got Zoey, who was extremely loving but would not stop grabbing our legs and fiercely humping us. Zoey could bark for hours, literally, without a break. She started chewing up the dog-bed. The humping got more aggressive. Luckily, this rescue girl wanted us to spend a couple of days with Zoey to see if we were a good fit. A nice wealthy family came to meet Zoey at our house, and drove off with her, hoping for the best. May god be with them.

We continued our search and contacted the owners of two dogs they needed to “rehome”: Roxy, who was described as lovable and gentle but not good with dominant dogs. And Kora, a 4 year old mini Aussie who was described as sweet and happy to lie around all day.

On a Saturday, we met Roxy in a park with her owners. They were a young couple who had raised Roxie and were now expecting a second child. They didn’t have the time to “give her the attention” she needed. They told us how she barked at animals on TV, including the Charmin cartoon bear! How adorable, we thought.

Tired of this yet? Me too! Roxy was great in the car. Back home, she humped us even more aggressively that Zoey. She jumped on us and vigorously humped our legs. She jumped on the couch and thrust her butt in my face. She became hysterical when a dog barked on TV, and clawed at the screen.

Nevertheless, we kept our appointment to meet Kora, the mini, which was love at first sight. I couldn’t believe she was real! I rubbed her tummy and marveled at her cuteness. She sat in my lap like a baby on the drive home. I was and still am ready to marry her.

Kora, my betrothed

But then. I walked with Kora into the kitchen to give her a dog treat. Roxy barrelled into the room, snatched away the treat and attacked Kora. The panicked squealing and angry growling was terrifying. I managed to separate them with my foot and checked to see if Kora was hurt.  She seemed okay but wouldn’t eat for the next day and a half.

Now our TV screen was ruined and we had to sleep with Kora in our bed to protect her. I texted Roxy’s owners after 2 days of this and said that “aggressive” wasn’t the same as “gentle.” The girl wrote, “Nonetheless, we have said our goodbye’s and are not taking her back.”

Now we are up to date. The two dogs are okay together but have to be fed in separate rooms and Kora can’t have any treats or toys. We are still sleeping with Kora and afraid to leave them alone together, so we can’t go out.

Roxy and Kora

We have contacted a million adoption places but no one will foster a dog who needs to be an only dog. Who can blame them? A lady who was excited to meet Roxy changed her mind when I informed her about Roxy’s “resource guarding.” I sought to rehome Roxy on a neighborhood Facebook page, where everyone scolded and lectured me for not “doing my research on Aussies” etc etc. Their grammar was terrible.

No one wants this fucking dog and neither do I. I have come to hate this poor innocent dog whose owner fucked her up by not socializing her early on. I can’t help it. I just hate her.

Walking Kora in the neighborhood yesterday, I stopped and chatted with a new neighbor. She weighs around 250 pounds, displayed in a tiny sundress despite her advanced age. She told me about her popularity with men, “because I’m sexy.”

Because I’m Sexy will haunt me forever. Who says stuff like that?? Because I’m a monster, I’m planning to take Roxy to an animal shelter, still wearing the original owner’s  dog-tags. Let them pick her up or explain that they’ve already said their goodbyes.

Posted in Disorders, grief, Rants | Tagged , , , | 9 Comments

Sociopathic Show Pony

Posted on May 18, 2022 by Sister Wolf

Don’t be mad at me for being consumed with Amber and Johnny; Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #JusticForJohnny have been viewed 8.3 billion times! Americans have googled Amber Heard four times more than google searches for abortion or the Supreme Court.

It could be serving as a needed escape from the reality of our politics, Covid, inflation, and bla bla bla. But I think it’s just a universal drama that most of us can relate to. Most of us have had at least one destructive relationship under out belts. Most of us have wanted to have sex with Johnny Depp at one time or another. Most of us love courtroom conflicts. And most of us pride ourselves on our ability to spot a liar.

And Amber is lying her head off, right??

Yesterday I read a preachy essay about how the backlash against Amber is misogynistic. There are a few of these essays making the rounds. If you don’t believe Amber Heard, you are dooming abuse victims to silence or worse.

But I disagree. I think it’s because this particular woman seems so awful and nuts. My favorite quote of all time is the former friend who described her as a sociopathic show pony. Try saying it out loud. It’s just a wonderful phrase! I could not love it more. And I feel it is apt, after watching her antics in court. The continual head bobbing and barrage of theatrical expressions are truly bonkers.

Further, I’ve decided that her “lip cut” is a cold sore, and her bruises are the result of botox injections. Don’t ask me about my research or you’ll know how immersed I am in this crap.

If you listen to their taped arguments – and who tapes arguments besides my sister??- you can hear her goading him, using weird baby voices or laughing demonically. Johnny seems to maintain a tired and pissed off tone, even though his acting skills are a million times superior, while she tries everything under the sun to manipulate him.

I don’t believe the bottle incident because whose pum pum can accommodate a fucking whiskey bottle for fucksake? Without having to go to the hospital for surgery afterwards? Her crazy email after this pretend incident says she wants to rip him apart and devour him. Which cannot follow a rape by a whiskey bottle, in my world or anyone else’s.

And also, what about her hairdos? Jesus Christ with those hairdos. The farm-girl braiding, the fluffy loose buns, the fake disheveledness. I’ll admit I’m jealous of her tailored designer suits and the way she buttons her shirt collars. But the fucking water bottle…no.

Her intake of mushrooms and MDMA do not reflect the anti-drug stance she insists on having, and her use of Elon Musk suggests a fetish for powerful men. There is nothing sympathetic about this woman, no matter how you regard Johnny Depp. I kind of want to kick her myself.

Worst of all is her flagrant lie about donating the $7 million divorce settlement, which I knew was a lie back when she first announced it. Because I can spot a liar a mile off. It is one of my superpowers, like finding thrift store treasures and critiquing bad writing.

Okay then. Thoughts?

Posted in Celebrities, Disorders, News, revenge | Tagged , , , | 13 Comments

Crazy or Totally Fucking Nuts?

Posted on May 1, 2022 by Sister Wolf

A Pat Benatar song came on the car radio the other day and I was instantly reminded of a blog post I wrote years ago about antinatalism.

Antinatalism is the belief that it’s morally wrong to have children. Why is it wrong? Because “life is harm” and because the unborn is unable to give consent.

On the face of it, this argument is just nuts. I mean, it’s unconscious knowledge that this is nuts. By unconscious knowledge, I mean instinctual knowledge. We may also find it self-evident that a person who believes that “life is harm” is a deeply unhappy person.

But in trying to refresh my memory on the lunacy of antinatalism, I came across an essay that tries to refute the idea that antinatalism is a philosophy borne of depression. Yeah, well, some depressed people may see things more realistically than an incurable optimist, but it’s inherent in the illness to see the world in distorted ways that only therapy or meds can modify. (The most well-known proponent of antinatalism is a guy who insists on strict privacy about his private life so that we can’t extrapolate anything from his history or psychological make-up. Hint: He is miserable.)

Anyway, Pat Benatar caused me to go back and read the post from 2008, and just as I recall, the comments are hilarious. Comment threads like these have kept me writing here for a million years, and while they don’t occur very often, they are pure joy. I hope you will go read that post and then laugh your heads off at the comments.

And I hope you will be moved to comment here, so we can laugh some more.

Posted in Disorders, Rants, Words | Tagged , , , , | 7 Comments

God Schmod

Posted on April 25, 2022 by Sister Wolf

A thread on Facebook caught my attention last week. It was on a neighborhood page, where the Discourse is usually confined to incensed complaints about the homeless and reports of lost cats. This one was posted by an administrator and titled “Ask an atheist.” It was an invitation for questions, and the thread was, miraculously for fb, respectful.

One guy posited that atheism was itself a form of religion. This was so silly that I jumped in to ask how an absence of belief could be deemed a form of belief.

I learned that there is “hard” atheism and “soft” atheism, and I learned a fun new word: Ignosticism. This is the idea that the question of the existence of God is meaningless because the word “God” has no coherent and unambiguous definition. That sounds kind of petulant and argumentative, doesn’t it?

I’ve always considered myself an atheist but now I realize that I’m more of an apatheist.

Apatheism considers the question of the existence or nonexistence of deities to be fundamentally irrelevant in every way that matters.

I know that “god” doesn’t exist but I don’t care either way. Let god believe in me, if he/she wants. The whole idea is stupid but others are welcome to it as long as they don’t tell me to have a blessed day. I must say that the stupidest form of religion is the one whose adherents say, following a terrible personal tragedy, that their faith in god helped them through it. The fact that god didn’t prevent the tragedy in the first place doesn’t seem to bother them.

You probably know that in most societies, women are more religious than men, but have you wondered why? There is no scholarly consensus on this. There is the theory that this gender gap in religiosity is caused by differences in risk preference between men and women. Risk preference theory argues that irreligiousness is a form of risk taking because irreligiousness risks eternal punishment such as going to hell. Because women tend to be more risk averse than men, they are more religious.

Another argument is that women are more likely to be sanctioned for nonconforming behaviors than men; thus, choosing to be nonreligious is more socially risky for women. To avoid stigma or social sanctioning, women tend to choose to be religious. I like this one. It blames the patriarchy, and why not?

But wait! Among Jews and Muslims, men are more religious than women. In these religions, men are required to attend public religious services while women are not. So again, blame the patriarchy (or maybe thank the patriarchy.)

As an apatheistic Jew, I admit that Christians who are super vocal about their religion tend to either annoy me or perversely amuse me. I have kind of an alter ego who I call the Hissing S lady, who is very Southern and very Christian. When I do this character, it’s hard for me to stop. Luckily, my husband doesn’t mind her. You can enjoy her here.

*For extra credit, go see a category of Renaissance art that depicts Jesus with an erection.

Posted in Religion, Words | Tagged , , | 6 Comments

Grammy’s 2022 Exegesis

Posted on April 5, 2022 by Sister Wolf

I never expected the Grammy’s to fuck up my personal life, but thanks to Justin Bieber, it has. I posted a picture of an oversized suit I bought last month from Zara (I know), and several people commented “Justin Bieber.” So today I googled “Justin Bieber suit” and to my horror found that he wore a similar suit on the red carpet. What a bastard. Do I have to take mine back now?? I don’t want to. I don’t want to lead a Bieber-directed life. Let him return his suit.

Other than that, the Grammy’s offered  fewer insults to taste and intelligence than in recent years. It was quite a surprise. The grown-ups won several award that could have gone to some useless clowns. There were fewer rappers performing and more actual singers and musicians (yep, okay boomer, I get it, so don’t even bother.)

Olivia Rodrigo has become my most hated figure in pop, dethroning Taylor Swift, who must despise Olivia for muscling in on the My Boyfriend Was Mean territory. Olivia and Taylor both got implants, both have huge teeth, and both like to bleat instead of sing. But Olivia seems even more fake and awful somehow, turning to Doc Martens to signify her punky side. Just ew, Olivia. Every time she didn’t win something, I felt a surge of relief.

I also hate Doja Cat, for obvious reasons, but I was enchanted by her Grammy co-winner, a full-sized woman on crutches and wearing a naked dress with a long train, carried by a helpful Lady Gaga. If you didn’t see it, it was a Moment.

Sticking with Lady Gaga, she performed a sickening Jazz number, playing the role of a 50’s chanteuse to the hilt. I actually had to cover my face. Why can’t she just choose one persona, or, god forbid, just be an authentic and genuine person?

Billie Eilish turned out to be a real rockstar, even if it’s taken a lifetime of looking in her bedroom mirror to perfect the stance. I loved her head banging song, which contained the line You ruined everything good, a lyric for the ages, I feel.

H.E.R was fantastic as always, bringing aging sexpot Lenny Kravitz onstage for a dueling guitar solo, serving up real style and talent that everyone present seemed to appreciate. I want to know how Lenny can squat so effortlessly when I can barely get down to tie my shoe.

What else? Jon Batiste, whoever he is, gave an all-cylinders performance that ended with him jumping on a table, and later gave a beautiful acceptance speech celebrating art. I love it when someone seems like a great human being, even if they aren’t.

Lil Nas X was super gay and super hot, but he ruined things by adding Jack Harlow to the mix. Who the fuck is Jack Harlow and why do we need him?

Carrie Underwood turned out to have fabulous muscular legs, even though her song was stupid, so fabulous that I googled them and found  her work-out regime. I’m not going to do it, by the way. But go look at those legs.

The Bieber performed an annoying emo song about peaches, and I was mad at him without even knowing about the suit insult to come. I would have been happy to just feel sorry for him, but now it’s war.

If I forgot something, let me know.

Posted in Celebrities, Fashion, News | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

A Voice Through a Cloud

Posted on April 4, 2022 by Sister Wolf

After violently coughing for a week, I broke a rib, specifically rib #5, which an x-ray revealed to be “minimally displaced.” This means, not broken in pieces but not a neat crack either. It is extremely painful, because it hurts with each breath. When you cough, it’s like being stabbed in the chest with an ice-pick. I had to sleep sitting up at first, because it was worse lying down. Obviously there are a million worse things but still, it is awful in its own right.

This constant pain and misery have reminded me acutely of  A Voice Through a Cloud, one of the best books I’ve ever read, an autobiographical novel about a young man whose bicycle accident destroys his health, and led to the author’s early death. The novel beings in the hospital, where the narrator regains consciousness in terrible, unspeakable pain.

Over the years since first reading it, I’ve come to think of my accidents and illnesses as a Voice Through a Cloud, meaning the sense of isolation you feel when in pain. You’re not really you anymore, you have entered a new consciousness as unlike reality as an acid trip. All your sensations are distorted, food is different, the sheets feel different, other people are shadowy figures who live outside your membrane of suffering.

This has gone on too long but it takes at least six weeks for a bone to mend and sometimes longer. Let this be a lesson to you to get enough calcium!

My brain has been altered throughout this ordeal, focused primarily on How long can I stand this, and Why doesn’t anything help, even opiates.

When I’ve been able to think outside the rib pain, my thoughts have turned to deep philosophical questions interrupted by the need to check on Kim and Pete. They are more real to me than my family at this point, and their relationship more momentous and consequential than any other. I mean, all the tattoos, the dinner dates, the threats from Kanye, the impossibility of their whole coupledom, the thought of him dealing with her enormous fake ass…

I’ve been mentally and spiritually haunted by a friend’s angry statement that she doesn’t want to hear about Ukraine because the world didn’t care about the war in Syria. I believe this is a stance of the far left, the wokity woke, who resent the privilege of the white, European Ukrainians. When I said, But what about those poor women evacuated from the maternity hospital only to be killed in the theater they took shelter in, my friend sneered, They don’t even have maternity hospitals in Syria!

I keep compulsively reviewing this, trying to figure out if one of us is just nuts. I am trying to focus on East Africa, which is facing a terrible famine that will only get worse. At least we can all agree on the heartbreaking unfairness of this, except for a guy in a NYT comment thread who insists that it’s Africa’s fault for not controlling its population.

Then, I wondered whether anyone can have a philosophy or value system that is entirely rational and not an outcome of one’s own psychology and, ahem, personal issues. Just think about that. Do I hate capitalism become I’m not rich and I hate the rich (which I do)? Do I think truth is important because the liars in my family have betrayed me so often? Do my white friends who see racist micro-aggressions everywhere feel guilty or an unconscious need to subscribe to all tenets of the progressive left? Does my half-brother, a staunch determinist, just dread the notion of having free will?

These are the rambling preoccupations of an altered consciousness, plus the worry that the internet has ruined life as we knew it without any off-ramp.

Denton Welch‘s A Voice Through a Cloud on the other hand is a masterpiece that I can’t recommend highly enough. The astounding intelligence of it’s author proves that pain can be an impetus to art in the right hands (rather than a drive to see what Kim and Pete are up to.) It is a work of genius that raises a faint hope for humanity and will elevate your soul at least temporarily while the world careens toward oblivion.

Posted in Art, Celebrities, Disorders, Horrible Stuff | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Academy Awards 2022 Exegesis

Posted on March 29, 2022 by Sister Wolf

Oh god, Will and Jada Smith, just go away. Boo hoo about Jada’s hair loss! Let her deal with osteoporosis, which I am blessed with, and my husband doesn’t need to slap anyone. Let her and her whole crazy family shut up about their personal dramas! Who gives a shit? Best performance of Toxic Masculinity by a big baby. Thank you, next.

Okay, back to business.

Aren’t you relived that Nicole Kidman didn’t win?? Her dress with that donut-peplum thing was awful, and she needs to start eating. Jessica Chastain seemed like a nice person, didn’t she? Her dress looked like a Disney cartoon princess, which was kind of poignant, but really the best thing about her is that her adorable nose is the result of plastic surgery.Yay! I saw the original nose somewhere on Instagram.

Megan Thee Stallion was a “nice” surprise, just like, or rather not anything like, Liza Minnelli. All the red dresses cancelled each other out, didn’t they? The only good one was the trouser outfit worn by the joyfully queer Ariana DeBose. Black dresses were in short supply for some reason, but Billie Eilish‘s dress was a monstrosity by any standards. Good for her! She likes to get a reaction and I hope she’s satisfied with EW! and WHY??

Maggie Gyllenhaal wore a black Schiaparelli that looked like a chest of drawers, the better to shield Jake from questions about Taylor’s scarf.

Kristen Stewart was super hot in her shorts and unbuttoned shirt, let’s admit it. Her bad-girl thing is still going strong and I want it to never stop. Likewise, boy-toy Timothee Chalamet was fetching in his Luis Vuitton women’s jacket and bare chest. What a darling little person he is. I also loved Wesley Snipes in a nutty, Pimptastic satin shorts suit with matching leggings.

Best outfit for my money was a floral suit worn by Encanto director Byron Howard. It was so wonderful! Where is the fuss about it??? Who made it? Can I borrow it? I’m still looking for pictures and info. Second best was an amazing dress printed with Renaissance angels, worn by Eva von Bahr, along with a Greek bust handbag.

WAIT, I almost forgot to mention Beyonce! Her musical number was a baffling Busby Berkley type extravaganza with a million women all wearing yellow-green dresses that did not distract from the song’s essential nothingness. I kept wondering how many starving people could have been fed with the money that went into this enterprise. Come @ me, Black women, I know it’s a racist sin to not appreciate Bey, and I’ve already heard from several irate nutcases on this subject.

In fact, I’d like to see Beyonce slap Jada, or vice versa, in keeping with the new Twitter game of imagining offbeat slapping scenarios.

Who would you like to see slapped, and by whom? Weigh in! And what did I leave out?

Posted in Celebrities, Fashion | Tagged , , , | 12 Comments