je suis le Roi
Tuesday, September 15th, 2009
Oh My God!!!
Still exploring this site, but the “In the kingdom of the blind” Quote has me sold. Since I was 9 or 10 I have loved the original French version of the quote:
“au royaume des aveugles, les borgnes sont rois.”
Yes, I was a pretentious queen at nine. Sue me. Actually, there’s a funny story there. Remind me to tell you it some time.
You’re busy. We’re busy. Summer has, if you’ll pardon the expression, been a shit soup: Little nuggets of joy floating in a thick and at times impenetrable broth of shit - of my own and other peoples making.
But fall (look at me! How Americaine am I? That’s your actual French, you know!) is shaping up to be weird.
Weird insofar as, after a summer of shit, I can’t quite remember how to be normal and relaxed and enjoy - I want to run up to “good” grab it, and hug it to my breast desperately. Which makes me sound like Glen Close in that film with the Casserole du Lapin.
I need some Yoga classes, but nobody will touch me til I work out how to make my shoulders touch the floor (apparently I’m looking buff “But sweetheart,” said one of my trainers - yes we have several; the benefits of being queens with friends in the fitness industry - “You could play Richard the third without prosthetics!”). And apparently my Chakra is all out of whack, but that’s nothing that a few Valium and vanilla smoothies can’t cure.
Have been informed by a rather odd “Psychic Jewess” at work (what is it with me and the Chosen People? I don’t know if she’s really Jewish or just psychically so, but that’s how she introduced herself to me) that I “Simply must be at least a thirty-second Jewish,” which wouldn’t, apparently, have saved me from the camps, but entitles me to a subscription to Heeb magazine, so I suppose that’s something to be positive about…
Anyway Raquel (I reckon her parents named her Rachel, but it wasn’t “Psychically Jewess-y” enough for her) reckons she can foresee futures using a mixture of Kaballa, automatic writing and Strong Psychotropic Drugs, and sees me “Living in Manhattan by the age of sixty.”
SIXTY? Jesus. I don’t wanna be Quentin Crisp; I wanna be Lou Reed.
Am I rambling? Do stop me….
Think: Eight years ago, the world was ending, and here we all are. My city of choice has changed; our lives have changed. The world is different. But we’re still here, and we still have love and respect for each other, and that means a HUGE HUGE amount to me.
Raaaaaaaaamblingg…….
Seriously; things haven’t been great of late, but the old ship has sailed the reefs, and the sight, on the horizon, of friends, Beloved people, places, memories and the knowledge that what we have, and have had – all of us, together and apart - is too huge to be anything more than scraped by the storms of the past 5 months, has kept us going.
Right. Love you.
We outta here. Peace. But Beyonce SHOULD have won that award!!!!! 
Dxxx