Some notes on a Tuesday facing a loon.

Don’ t read this. It is personal. It is not poetic or political. OK, maybe you have your own Loon and maybe you have a Tuesday. In fact, maybe this all happened or maybe I made it all up.
Today is Tuesday, May 17, on a sandy cove in the middle range of the Gran Desierto Sonora. It will be hotter today than yesterday maybe cooler by Saturday.

I found one of my earliest published pieces from 1976 on-line while looking for something else. I had no copy. I copied it, corrected the grammar and margins and I will save it.

I was strange even then and that makes me feel better.

A brief excerpt:

“A picture of two boys staring into a glass of obviously purified water had hung in the darkest corner of his living room. He recently replaced it with a tiny crucifix he found the last time he woke up lost (and hungover) in the park. The picture of the two boys bothered him for no reason but enough he thought to affect his digestion. They stood there blankly staring into the glass of water.

Behind them was also a picture, but not of them. ”

If interested and you ask nice, I will put up the entire piece of short fiction.

but this is not about old fiction. As Arlo said

“but that’s not what I came to tell you about.

Came to talk about the draft.”

Well, I didn’t come to talk about the draft. I came to talk about the loon. I don’t want to be judgemental and give loons a tarnish, but…

I finally had my “Max” surface.  Max is a secret term my secret writing group uses to describe a person who we allowed into the inner-sanctum and then he went mad. Or maybe off his meds. I even take a risk mentioning his name here.

It started with a series of strange postings where someone was writing to an ex-former-current-drunk lover. They (the 2 in question) did Whiskey and Cocaine together for 3 years and had more money than the Gods.

Even the Coke dealer said that he was not answering their calls although they always paid…it was too much cocaine and they were getting to out there.

A Coke dealer with ethics. Better yet, a Coke dealer with guilt. Who would have thought.

She (The Loon) started with me and then when I said I was tired, she started on private texts and she turned hateful.

This morning I got a call from an old mutual friend and he said WTF…He had gotten drug (literally) into the madness. A second person who didn’t know why. A second person caught in the drive-by insanity spewed from a loon.

Later, while driving Bunny to the Orthopedic Surgeon, I received a call from the fiance 1 of the boyfriend (The Cocaine and Whiskey Lover) of this woman (The Loon). She has been married 20 plus years, has not gone out with him since the early ’70’s and is a long time Family Counselour.

She was in tears about what this woman had said to her. Imagine, sending a hardened Counselour to tears…

Then my “Max” started in on my Bunny. Text after text. Her Droid boinged and bonged and warned her that more digitaI spew had arrived. I told her to let it be. I don’t tell the Bunny to do anything, but this thing was going nowhere.

But with Bunny being in AA, over 15 years sober, I knew how she responds to the call that comes in at 3 AM. When someone reaches out, even demons, she extends a hand. She agreed to talk and the two (the Bunny and The Loon…) spent almost two hours about how the Loon world was dissolving, it  had all fallen apart and she could not control the drinking and the cocaine (Surprise Surprise) and she needed help.

Bunny left the door open for advise.

Later, after some silence…my “Max” texted back to Bunny a big GIANT F*ck You.

I don’t drink too much. I am sober and not a drunk and you (Bunny) (and me the Blogger) are big assholes for hurting her mystery lover (mentioned above with the Whiskey and Cocaine).

Now I knew this guy since 1973, and the first fiance and even the second fiance and his second wife and I even met my “Max.” She said I had hurt him like so many others of his so-called friends and it was up to her to protect him.

She had performed on Broadway.

She knew how to protect him from the cruel world, the bad fiances, the bad ex-wives, all of the people that had stolen millions of dollars. It would involve more Cocaine and more Whiskey…but she was or is a Loon.

Interesting note, The Loon’s original husband worked for my friend (Mr. Whiskey and Cocaine). He put him in control of his Chinese Operation of 2 dozen or so contractors. Her (the Loon) husband was a drunk, screwed up the business, came back to Connecticut and then flew off to Hawaii where he promptly hung himself in the Hotel. Horrible. I can only imagine.

A few years later, my friend contacted the widowed wife to see how she was doing and…well what do you know…they dated, she moved in with him in LA and they drank and drank and snorted and snorted. I think he eventually tired of her and helped her find a house a few doors down on the edge of Beverly Hills, where it is convienient for him to “drop” in.

I am hoping her loon flurry is done and whatever demons came out of what she put up her nose have gone back to bed.

But alas…I can find nothing to write about.

But do remember the beginning. If you ask, I will post the entire story that I found from the 70’s. You decide if there is a connection.

Hugs.

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