Monday, March 05, 2007
Loose lips sink ships.
Sister 1 has been talking to my Mom. The subject was me, Lorraine and our problems. (Such as the fact that I am sleeping in a separate room, and that we have not had full sex since 25th December 2005, and that when we take time off from work we take it separately, and that I have sometimes taken to drinking too much, and that I am now imagining a life without Lorraine and the mechanics of achieving such a life. You know all of this except for, maybe, my thoughts of a life without Lorraine in it.)
My Mom has been talking to my Brother, Sister 2, Sister 3 and my mad Aunt.
On Sunday, after the movie (more about that in a minute), I went to see my Mom. My Aunt, my Brother and Sister 2 were also there.
"How are you Son?" says my Mom.
"I'm OK", sez me.
"Not what I heard." says my Mom. "I've been talking to (Sister 1)".
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah." Big pause. "If you're not happy Son, you should get out of there."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah. Think about it."
My Aunt nodded sagely. Sister 2 said nothing. My Brother grinned. (He has always disliked Lorraine intensely.)
Yeah.
Later my Brother cornered me in the kitchen. He asked me if I wanted to go out with him this Saturday. (Lorraine is going away on Saturday, for a week. She is visiting her cousin, and then her Brother and his new twins, so other than work, the week will be my own to do with it what I will.) My Brother suggested that we sink a few brews, pick up women and see what happens. Lock up your daughters. The Pynchon boys are in town.
I said that I would think about it, but the answer is going to be No. It's nothing that I want to do. I'd rather stay in and watch the TV.
I should be furious at Sister 1, but I'm not. I'm kind of glad that it is out in the open, or at least out in the family.
My only concern is what my Mom is going to do next. My Mom is of Italian descent. She is... formidable. She is short and old and grey and sweet and deadly, like a Mafia Godmother. My Mom has one concern, and one concern only, and that is the well being of her family. I would go so far as to say that she does not give a flying fuck about anyone else except for her family. We come first. We have always come first.
I could see my Mom phoning Lorraine up and giving her a piece of her mind. Lorraine, also a formidable lady, would not appreciate that. In fact a hit might be ordered. Or a horse's head might be appropriated. (Enough of the Mafia analogies, already.)
My Mom is just worried about me. Perhaps I should call my Mom and have a quiet chat? Yes. I think that that might be wise.
Sunday afternoon. I made some comfort purchases. "Lucky Number Slevin", "United 93", "House Of Sand And Fog" and "9 Songs". Then I went to see "Hot Fuzz". (Finally Hurrah!)
I work with a guy who saw "Hot Fuzz" at a preview screening. He came into work the next day and announced that it was "The best comedy of all time!"
Er... No. It's not the best comedy of all time, but it isn't bad. Yes, it is too long, but it's mostly very funny and I thought (blasphemy!) that it is probably better than "Shaun Of The Dead" (which also wasn't bad, but not as brilliant as everybody thought it was). A riotous piss take, especially towards the end, of those high octane action films that we love and loathe. Lots of great cameos (see if you can spot a very well known Australian Oscar winner) and a great supporting cast of British character actors hamming it up. Great soundtrack of British pop music, as well.
Well worth the visit, I thought. No arseholes in the Cinema, either. Always a bonus.
Sister 1 has been talking to my Mom. The subject was me, Lorraine and our problems. (Such as the fact that I am sleeping in a separate room, and that we have not had full sex since 25th December 2005, and that when we take time off from work we take it separately, and that I have sometimes taken to drinking too much, and that I am now imagining a life without Lorraine and the mechanics of achieving such a life. You know all of this except for, maybe, my thoughts of a life without Lorraine in it.)
My Mom has been talking to my Brother, Sister 2, Sister 3 and my mad Aunt.
On Sunday, after the movie (more about that in a minute), I went to see my Mom. My Aunt, my Brother and Sister 2 were also there.
"How are you Son?" says my Mom.
"I'm OK", sez me.
"Not what I heard." says my Mom. "I've been talking to (Sister 1)
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah." Big pause. "If you're not happy Son, you should get out of there."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah. Think about it."
My Aunt nodded sagely. Sister 2 said nothing. My Brother grinned. (He has always disliked Lorraine intensely.)
Yeah.
Later my Brother cornered me in the kitchen. He asked me if I wanted to go out with him this Saturday. (Lorraine is going away on Saturday, for a week. She is visiting her cousin, and then her Brother and his new twins, so other than work, the week will be my own to do with it what I will.) My Brother suggested that we sink a few brews, pick up women and see what happens. Lock up your daughters. The Pynchon boys are in town.
I said that I would think about it, but the answer is going to be No. It's nothing that I want to do. I'd rather stay in and watch the TV.
I should be furious at Sister 1, but I'm not. I'm kind of glad that it is out in the open, or at least out in the family.
My only concern is what my Mom is going to do next. My Mom is of Italian descent. She is... formidable. She is short and old and grey and sweet and deadly, like a Mafia Godmother. My Mom has one concern, and one concern only, and that is the well being of her family. I would go so far as to say that she does not give a flying fuck about anyone else except for her family. We come first. We have always come first.
I could see my Mom phoning Lorraine up and giving her a piece of her mind. Lorraine, also a formidable lady, would not appreciate that. In fact a hit might be ordered. Or a horse's head might be appropriated. (Enough of the Mafia analogies, already.)
My Mom is just worried about me. Perhaps I should call my Mom and have a quiet chat? Yes. I think that that might be wise.
Sunday afternoon. I made some comfort purchases. "Lucky Number Slevin", "United 93", "House Of Sand And Fog" and "9 Songs". Then I went to see "Hot Fuzz". (Finally Hurrah!)
I work with a guy who saw "Hot Fuzz" at a preview screening. He came into work the next day and announced that it was "The best comedy of all time!"
Er... No. It's not the best comedy of all time, but it isn't bad. Yes, it is too long, but it's mostly very funny and I thought (blasphemy!) that it is probably better than "Shaun Of The Dead" (which also wasn't bad, but not as brilliant as everybody thought it was). A riotous piss take, especially towards the end, of those high octane action films that we love and loathe. Lots of great cameos (see if you can spot a very well known Australian Oscar winner) and a great supporting cast of British character actors hamming it up. Great soundtrack of British pop music, as well.
Well worth the visit, I thought. No arseholes in the Cinema, either. Always a bonus.
Labels: Family, Lorraine, Movies
# posted by Pynchon @ 9:03 pm 
Comments:
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One should never mess with the son of an Italian mama. It's suicidal.
Talk to her. You'll both feel better for it. I'm so sorry that I never got around to sitting down with my mother and talking to her about my problems (being gay, blah blah blah.)
Just do it.
Talk to her. You'll both feel better for it. I'm so sorry that I never got around to sitting down with my mother and talking to her about my problems (being gay, blah blah blah.)
Just do it.
I've been on the recieving end of such a mother... they are onesided, myopic, arrogant and evil.. in my opinion, anyway... seeing their children as always right, irrespective of the reality..
oops. had a flashback there.
oops. had a flashback there.
My Mom was widowed at the age of 43. I was 14 years old, my Mom had 4 other kids under the age of 10 and another one on the way.
Before my Dad died my Mom was nothing. She was no-one. She had no opinion, and what opinion she had didn't matter. She was invisible. My Dad bestrode the house like a colossus. It was not a democracy. He was King.
When my Dad died my Mom had to either fall apart or survive. She chose to survive. She gathered her family around her, held on tight and refused to let go. The barriers were up and remained up for many years. We were her Universe.
My Dad died on the Sunday. On the Tuesday two social workers came around to take my Brother and Sisters into care because they didn't feel that my Mom could cope. My Mom threw them out. She cried buckets after that, but nobody outside the house saw it. Somehow my Mom kept the social worker scum from our door.
My Mom lost her baby. I would have had another Brother. He would have been 28 now.
My Mom is iron and steel and titanium and the material that they will make space craft with in the future.
And no, she doesn't give a fuck about anything else but her family.
Before my Dad died my Mom was nothing. She was no-one. She had no opinion, and what opinion she had didn't matter. She was invisible. My Dad bestrode the house like a colossus. It was not a democracy. He was King.
When my Dad died my Mom had to either fall apart or survive. She chose to survive. She gathered her family around her, held on tight and refused to let go. The barriers were up and remained up for many years. We were her Universe.
My Dad died on the Sunday. On the Tuesday two social workers came around to take my Brother and Sisters into care because they didn't feel that my Mom could cope. My Mom threw them out. She cried buckets after that, but nobody outside the house saw it. Somehow my Mom kept the social worker scum from our door.
My Mom lost her baby. I would have had another Brother. He would have been 28 now.
My Mom is iron and steel and titanium and the material that they will make space craft with in the future.
And no, she doesn't give a fuck about anything else but her family.
There is nothing that gets things done so much as bringing out the primal instincts in a mom. (Did that sentance make any sense?) Anyway, you know what I mean.
I owe you an apology. Here I was griping right along with you about the lack of sex, but I was thinking I was deprived because I wasn't getting it twice a week anymore. you poor fella!
I owe you an apology. Here I was griping right along with you about the lack of sex, but I was thinking I was deprived because I wasn't getting it twice a week anymore. you poor fella!
To use a phrase i've always wanted to use, but never have had the chance before....; Careless talk costs Wives .
Terrible Pun, I know. Feel for ya, Pynch.
Terrible Pun, I know. Feel for ya, Pynch.
Pynchon, sorry I haven't been around. It seems like life could be better. I just rented Taxi Driver again and Aguirre: the Wrath of God. Did you see the Departed?
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