Of Mice and Men….


I haven’t posted anything here in ages. I have two blogs, one here, and one on Blogger. I have TRIED to blog because as a writer, frankly, it would make sense for me to do so. But, alas, I am a lazy blogger, so both of my sites sit in woeful forgotten mediocrity somewhere out there in internet land. Today I feel the need to blog, however.
It’s been a very unusual week… I, who have never set foot in front of a TV camera, have done so twice within seven days. The second one was extremely difficult in ways I cannot explain at the moment as I am under the blanket of silence until it is at last revealed as a film or podcast or whatever it is called… but, suffice it to say, there are few things on this earth that intimidate me. I stared one of them straight in the face the day before yesterday. And I was surrounded by loved ones.. My friends I travel with were there, Libby and Lane… my husband Bob was there… my rockstar chick friend was there helping in the actual production. But, I was not on my game. there was something missing… and that missing piece of me, I’ am afraid, may have affected my interview. frankly, I think I sucked. This thing that’s missing? to some it would seem so silly, so tiny.. I am missing my Mouse.
See, I have this person in my life… he is in actual day to day taking a shower, eating, living part of life nothing to me at all, it would seem… on the surface. We met on facebook, and have become, I thought, extremely close friends… in fact I made a 3200 mile trip this summer with Libby to see him. it was something that had haunted the recesses of my mind for the better part of three or four years… almost ever since I got that email from Bill Hayes that informed me that he had sent a copy of my book to a friend of his named Jj Solari.  As a contributor to biker rags, I had of course heard the stories about Jj… He was one of the legendary greats who wrote the copy that helped Easyriders rule the biker world for a decade or two. He’s a virtual god amongst biker writers. I remember thinkin’, “Wow, HE is reading me?” I decided to search him on Facebook. What the fuck, right? I had no idea when I clicked that friend request button what an important change in my life it would conjure forth. It took us about five seconds to become inseparable allies on the internet, and not much longer than that to start toying with the urge to cross 1,600 miles to meet face to face. Libby and I did other things during our three week trip, of course, but the reason I ultimately made the trip was to meet my Mouse.
See, he and I have a very weird relationship. It’s not a romantic one.. we are both happily married. Its a literary, intellectual, sharing of comedy and ideas and mutual contempt of basically the human race as a whole… when we are together, even a thousand miles apart, we kinda hum the same tune most of the time. Our words flow together in absolute precision, whether in anger or jest… we are Burns and Allen, we are Hannibal and Clarice, we are Bonnie and Clyde. nothing is sacred with us. we discuss everything everywhere… we email and facebook pretty much all day every day. We both have told each other things that nobody else on earth knows. We have both freelanced for the same magazines, but he is much better at it than I am, and our careers span a 30 year difference, as do our ages.
Libby and I spent about a week with him, and our time was precious. He took me to the Los Angeles Ren Faire…  I adore Tudor history. He taught me to ballroom dance.. I am deaf.  He took me to a mall… where we walked through a door that was a shoe department at Sak’s. that, to me. was like Dorothy landing in Oz.. complete with a pair of silver Jimmy Choos in a glass case in front of the door. Most of the time I spent with him in Libby’s company. It was not a torrid affair type visit… it was more like two children who had finally met their brother and sister as adults.
there were bets wagered and a combined mass audience who await breathlessly still to know whether we now have carnal knowledge of each other, since our online tittle-tattle copulation is a steady and bandy affair of larger-than-life proportions. Did the nefarious guru of all things sexual and the scandalous queen of the bikers finally consummate their debauchery? Did we fuck like rabbits? Was there sweating and pulling of hair and gnashing of teeth as our bodies ground out a harmony against each other? Did we pull the blinds and hide away from the world in quiet desperation to grasp, at the last possible second before a plane landed and the spell was broken, a golden, once in a lifetime opportunity? Has he felt the brush of my hair upon his skin? So easily could we have crossed the short distance from friends to lovers and none would be the wiser.. Or are we both just extremely skilled writers? Consummators or consummate liars? All writers are liars, you know… Of course I thought about it. I am a red blooded woman and Jj, an attractive man who has quite a way with words… extremely hot, sexual ones. I own I have indulged in the fantasy of imagining the feel of his body connected to mine in the same way that his mind is at some of the things he writes. I own that there are times when he says things that would make my panties hit the floor if I wore any. He is well aware of the fact that he can call me “toots” and wrap me around his pinkie finger any time he wants. Did we take the chance, with only our minds a witness to our sin, and they would never tell a soul… Then when people asked me if I went to Disneyland, I would smile, and say ‘yes, yes I did.’ Well, what the fuck do you people think this is? Fifty Shades of Shit? We had a few hours to actually TALK face to face about everything… to watch the facial expressions and laughter of someone we talk about everything with, and to try to store them in the banks of our memories to last until the next time we see each other again, if the deities of fate deem us so worthy of something so precious. A penis is the easiest thing in the world to come by… but one controlled by a mind like Jj’s.. Well, that could be worth driving 1,600 miles to find. But his mind is one that is so interesting, his life so compelling, why in the world would someone waste time with access to all that to go around trying to play with a cock? I mean, he could have a magnificent one for all I know, but it still couldn’t be nearly as interesting as his brain. I cried for three days when I left him.. I gave him my favorite pair of shoes, because they were Paris Hiltons, and he thinks she is a goddess. If I had to choose one person I was allowed to talk to for the rest of my life, it would probably be my Mouse.
But for some reason, I don’t think wants to talk to me anymore. I don’t know what I have done to deserve his animosity, but I have been feeling a wind of change in his manner toward me lately. I now haven’t actually been addressed by him in four or five days. I don’t know what I did to  cause him to decide not to talk to me anymore. I hope he eventually tells me, because I have found that I depend on this friend for many things. He grounds me. He believes in me and makes me believe in myself. I miss him and I hate him for making me cry when I say that. It hurts like a toothache, to not send him what I think because I know he will not answer. I know this is selfish of me.. I should be thankful I had the opportunity to peek into a few of the closely guarded rooms of his cavernous mind… but I don’t care. I am pissed because I don’t know why he is doing this or how to fix it. I am hurt that he wasn’t there when I did the tv show thing because you see, there’s a reason I call him my Mouse. He was a Mouseketeer.. a real one, in the Annette days. he knew how to handle what I was going through when he was 13 years old. I don’t understand why he wasn’t there to talk me through it. I can’t find anything I could have said or done that would have made him completely close the door on our friendship. I don’t really hate him… If I did it wouldn’t hurt as much as it does. I actually love him, in a different way, just as much as I do my husband or my sister. I really just wish my Mouse would come back because for some reason I am not completely me without him.

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