Mary

My ex-husband and I talked today. He tried to be a friend and eventually succeeded.

According to him the weirdest part of my last post on Instagram for a while…was how the woman who direct-messaged me automatically assumed I was schizophrenic. Like she jumped from reading I was seeing doors move on their own, etc. etc. and seeing the below photo:

to thinking it was obviously schizophrenia.

He presumed that she either had schizophrenia herself and thought I seemed like her…possibly for narcissistic reasons…or that she was purely trying to find something wrong with me out of hate. And…I have a feeling it was both.

…The clear problem with her theory at time is…I’m not genuinely diagnosable as schizophrenic. By actual qualified professionals. …But even if I was it wouldn’t change her heart intent. And I don’t think she had a good heart intent as she literally labeled herself a, “jealous bitch.” *laugh* But she sought out my attention last year semi-aggressively regardless.

Among the many inconsistencies in her epic stories about herself…she claimed to be from my area. Do you have any clue how annoying it is when people think you’re dumb enough to fall for that one? …And whether she was lying about that specific detail or not…it’s so commonly used it’s…pathetic. The narcissistic “We’re practically neighbors!!” routine.

*eye-roll*

…She did say some interesting things on occasion though. Especially about Native Americans. And that combined with my fear of genuinely hurting her feelings is why I talked to her and tolerated her “unpleasantness” at all.

…And you know…I like to think we all have something interesting to say on occasion. Something to relate with people about who are different than us. And of course he she acted like it was crazy to think we were different, like she had to patronize me to say such an absurdity…but we were. And are.

When narcissists give you obvious compliments…about obvious things…as if they’re not obvious…it’s a sign they’re a narcissist. Unfortunately, if you’re like me and you were brutally abused psychologically by lots of people who pretended to be being honest and friendly…you miss that sign. …Or I used to. I mean I was violently mentally bullied…and lots of things of that nature confuse me at times. Sorry narcissists that I haven’t cut you off from your supply before you get addicted. *ghostly grimmace* …Perfume community narcissists I can only imagine how rough that withdrawal must have been or be. Uff da!!

“Addiction happens.” *ghostly shrug*

Anyway, do you see the (possible) older woman’s face? Her one left eye? (The other one is half cut-off.) Her (1950’s-style) bobbed hair? Her heavy eye-makeup? She looks like a smoker… A woman who “had her hair done” to look “big” and wore curlers in between appointments.

…She probably is…nothing…but what if she’s a ghost? *laugh*

Who was she?!

…Was she a woman who worked as a prostitute?

*gasp*

Let’s say…she grew-up near Seattle in a lovely, middle-class “All-American” family. …Let’s say she was a natural blond with pretty straight hair that fell around her face like magic when she didn’t curl it. Light blue eyes. Fair skin. She was at least somewhat naturally pretty in her youth. Truly.

Let’s say she wanted to “make it big” so she did work in downtown Seattle in the theater. She hoped to be a Hollywood actress. …And when JFK came through the area in the early 1960’s Lem Billings recruited her to sleep with JFK. When she was only 17 and basically a virgin. …A virgin in the early 1960’s.

…She was incredibly naive.

She was starstruck and knew about the so-called “casting couch.” …And she fell for the lie that she was being “discovered.” So she slept with Jack with two other young women in some “back room” somewhere escorted by the Secret Service.

…And afterwards she thought he’d come back for her.

But…she could never fix her life. It was just drinking, drugs, more prostitution (it paid really well) and never anything truly good. Boyfriends, at least one husband. No kids. …Half dead inside always. …She at least partially lost her mind.

“How do you explain a thing like that to your friends in the early 1960’s?! Who could relate?!”

…By her early 50’s she was literally almost dead. Her last years in her apartment that was in decay by that time…in Lower Queen Anne…where we lived…were…sad. Reflective. She decided she’d been a narcissist to secretly think he’d come back for her. *eye-roll* “He was JFK!” But…she was kind of a narcissist in a way. *laugh* It was just…incidentally unrelated. *sad face*

Little did she know Jack wasn’t actually even straight. *laugh*

*smile*

…Did she see Lem Billings lurking in Lacey’s apartment? Or did she someone else? …In Seattle. In 2015. ? *eye-roll* because I don’t want bring up Lacey again and because of the stupidity of it all.

I bet she thought Lem was a narcissist too upon further reflection. Matter-of-fact I’m quite sure she did. And it’s really very logical. I bet she thought Lacey was too… *sad face* …It was her neighborhood first. And no…not in a reference to prostitution *laugh* but rather in general.

This is my neighborhood you stuck-up bitch!” Lacey may recall hearing the woman say to her one night while Lacey was walking home. But back then Lacey assumed it was just her imagination.

Lacey lived near a stadium and the Space Needle. I’m sure this woman had a huge clientele.

“It’s perverse.” Michael shrugs. “I’m sorry. I don’t care how you look at it. It isn’t homophobic to say it’s vile. Lem used his natural gifts in sick ways when he aided the Kennedy family. He was a very shrewd man. He was genuinely very gifted. Lacey, he really was. …I’m sure he knew where to find all the drugs. All the women. All the booze. All the everything. By instinct. He had a preternatural awareness of a great many things people take hours or years to analyze to get right.” He scoffs. “Lacey…it’s sick.”

“I was straight. I was straight. I was straight.” says Lem like he’s turned into a zombie, rocking himself back and forth in some sort of shock.

“I had my former pimp handle him.” she laughs coarsely.

“Is he ok?!” asks Lacey. “He was actually straight right?! This isn’t some form of conversion therapy?”

“Yes.” *the pimp rolls his eyes* “I don’t know what conversion therapy is.” he laughs. Lacey notices that the pimp was actually a fairly good-looking man in his own way? Possibly also Irish-American? He slightly resembles F. Scott Fitzgerald, ironically. …Lacey can see why the woman got involved with this man should he exist and have existed… He lived in the area too?

It’s…terrible. If it’s true it’s terrible…

“He’d know. Seriously, Lacey. He’d know.” she says in a hushed tone and then laughs cathartically.

“It’s not conversion therapy!” Jack Kerouac says still laughing.

And Jack is nowhere to be found. *”Shake it baby!!!*” yells Michael in Jack’s general direction. Apparently he can “find” him wherever he went off to.

*supposed or actual schizophrenic author Jack Keroauc laughs again* “He’s not been turned into a schizophrenic, Lacey.” he says reassuringly about Lem.

“Was he actually straight.” she asks Michael with concern.

“Yes.” says Michael in deep melancholy.

“He gave him something to help him sleep.” she says cryptically to Lacey who somehow automatically understands. But of course…Lem isn’t asleep. And suddenly Michael’s sadness makes sense to her.

“I WAS HIS BEST FRIEND!” says JFK as if he’s drunker than Lucy was in “Lucy Does A TV Commercial.”

“You know…it wasn’t crazy to think she was being scouted when she was approached at work.” Lacey thinks sadly. This woman’s sadness feels personal. Lacey isn’t this woman but golly…it is sad.

“Damn! He was a sexy man.” says the woman about Lem in a nuanced, frightening tone. She doesn’t seem demonic or evil so much as to be being used by God.

*”Shake-it! Or…let it go.”*

“I CAN’T LET GO!!!” says Jack.

And that’s when Lem throws up.

(Lacey can’t logically believe Lem was straight at this point. It seems irrational based on what’s been written for the most part, except for Red Fay’s description. She tries to be open-minded and empathetic either way.)

“Oh well! Oh well!” says the woman about her lost life. (She seemingly died in the 1990’s or 2000’s. I think she may have had lung cancer??)

[Edit to add: J. P. Kennedy says he finds it, “…hilarious how Michael Rockefeller is depicted as a “sweet guy.” Just a wholesome, average young man you’d meet next door in some normal person’s neighborhood. *he laughs* “He wasn’t gay-“ he cracks up laughing and can’t finish his sentence. “No!” He continues laughing. “No.” He smiles instead of laughing. “No. He wasn’t gay either, Lacey. …Yes! I can see why you think they might be. But they weren’t.” Then suddenly he looks sad. “He really was a nice young man.” (He means Michael.) “I can’t stand you. I can’t. I don’t hate you. I just wish you-But you can’t can you? You can’t understand.”

“No.” says Lem. ]

Was it this woman or was she explaining yet another ghost’s pain? Either way…I bet she lived in the neighborhood?

…Oh well. I’m sure it’s just a perfume bottle lid. And really…either way…living in Seattle just isn’t for some people.