Drooling naplam Print E-mail
Written by OG   
Thursday, 14 December 2006

Got an email this morning from dear old mom.  She’s desperate again.  She needs money for her vehicle that is going to be repossessed. I’m torn as to whether I should give her the money, or let her slide further into her prophecy of becoming a bag lady.  She has always lived on the edge of civility and survival.  Now that the kids are long gone, she has no reason to keep the semblance of her life together.  Plus, she is pushing sixty with no modern skills, no basic clerical skills, no hope.  Her parents are dead and her sister wrote her off the family books years ago and well, I’m torn.  If she looses her truck, I might be able to convince her to move back and live in my mountain house. 

Sure, it is a bit isolated, but there are numerous antique stores and I would not let her starve. Although, she will have to find some sort of work or apply for disability. Of course, she is half crippled with her bad foot and being overweight and somehow she manages to always burn her bridges.  When I look over her shoulder, past the decades of her life, there is a landscape of smoldering ruin.  She does not just burn bridges, she scorches the earth around her in all directions. Of course, when I look back over my life, there is a similarly scorched landscape.  Just recently some grass has begun to grow around my feet, but here comes Momma.  Everyone, put your asbestoses suits on. My arms are turning into flame throwers. My mouth is drooling napalm. My guts are leaking petroleum. I’m sure to explode any second. Boom!  A thousand-billion pieces spread across the earth, slowly crawling back into itself like the vampire Lestat, the immortal un-dead plagued by a son’s inability to ignore his mother’s desperate pleas.

Guess that means I’ll send her the money.  Was thinking of doing it anyway just because it’s xmas. Ho, ho, ho.

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grungeogre (Publisher) 2006-12-16 08:23:42

RE: Wound up sending some money as a xmas gift. No strings attached.

The whole thing transpired via email.

It's just odd. odd. odd.

Anyone else communicate with your bag lady mother only via the internet and paypal?

--

Regarding grass growing under my feet, I went to a party last night of some relatively new friends in Yuppy Town. The grass grew a little more. This is the first time since leaving home at fifteen that I've lived in one place for more than a year. Hmm.
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