Before
I go on with more integral matters, let me buttress a wound licking moment and
yowl that I lost a potential novelist online friend, Shayna Grissom, because I
engaged in my usual delight of contention braggadocio in the discovery that
Alessandra Mussolini was a living facet of history, and I almost couldn’t not
defend her against a farcical jackass like Jim Carrey. To me this is
fascinating, that while I’m here on Blogger pondering the many roots and
branches of Italy’s indispensable cultural legacies, Mussolini’s granddaughter
is actually live on social media! I very nearly groveled and decided this would
amount to little more than an irritant, and so went after Carrey, whom none of
us like, for his hard joke about Benito’s death. It was lacking in tact, his
cartoon, contributing nothing to anti-statist tensions. I only really use
Facebook as an outlet, or for a question, but Shayna cut me off, and yes, I felt
it, one again reaching for tentative rapport. She did a shout out for a
volunteer to review her agent letters, I offered to help, was happy for her
novel, and here we are, after following each other perhaps less than a year.
Fragile suburban housewives, I am on my last legs, and get shafted by her
neediness and insecurity, and none of this had anything to do with her, her
husband, or the death of her sister-in-law. That tweet, if hers, may have been
when I first paid her individuality any notice. I’d really like not to be dying
by myself and get a hug by someone other than a jamboree jigger getting paid to
serenade me into the Twilight Zone. I invested in Shayna’s validation, and now,
I’ve paid, but if Alessandra allows me to stay on her feed, maybe I can get a
nice essay out of it; I am not sure how much I can assume about my strength,
taxed as it is. There is no giving up, mind you. A home for cripples would
simply torture me. I either can take it on my own, figure out a foolproof exit
valve, or take an institutional technician’s abuse. Those, as it stands, are my
options, as my bridge to via support caved in a while back. The current
caregiver, ever helpful, suggested I ask Shayna for a token fee, the same Shayna
who raised her voice against censoring YA novelists. Uh huh. Any reason why I
should try to keep placating this tyranny of female centric herd dynamic?
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