When I was very depressed at age 14 I sat in my bedroom listening to the radio. The oldies station just depressed me even more to listen to by that age..but Otis Redding’s iconic song caught my attention.
I’ve always recalled that moment vividly because it felt like I was finally being heard, as in my inner-most thoughts and feelings poetically were in that song. It felt like he would have understood me based on the way he sang the words. Or, at least the song itself, so to speak, understood. It felt wonderful to genuinely not feel alone. Even in an old song. People say, “You’re not alone.” But oftentimes it’s mostly ludicrous to think that they really understand and feel your pain from personal experience in any authentic way. At least that’s been my life. And it ironically hurts even more to have to humor them so as not to offend or hurt them when they try to “reach out.”
But anyhow, when I tried to picture the dock Otis Redding described I couldn’t place it in my mind. I kept seeing an industrial bay… Where was this image in my head from? It didn’t seem quite like California…
Tonight I was watching Tik Tok and I heard that he died in Wisconsin when his plane crashed into Lake Monona. And that that’s why the whistle is at the end of the song… He didn’t finish recording the song before he died and the (filler) whistle had to suffice. And it shocked me when I saw it on Tik Tok as the memory of being 14 and struggling to try to place Otis Redding sitting by water in my head came back to me. I wanted to put him clearly in California like the song seed to narrate but…it felt odd to do so.
Did something supernatural at the time tell me “Wisconsin” or paint a photo of him sitting by Lake Monona? Or did the radio announcer talk about his death in Wisconsin? Or…was it weirder than that and I’ve purposefully misremembered it? Because I know I’d never seen Lake Monona (surprisingly or not). And certainly not in the 1960’s…
…Anyway…the image in my head looks like Lake Monona in the 1960’s. I looked it up tonight and it was possibly more industrial with trains and etc. back then than it is now. And it’s not surprising the image felt so much more familiar than I imagined California feeling…and than it is. The water I imagined Otis Redding sitting by felt like my great grandfather’s farm but with water.
He seemed at peace? But…still able to relate to my sadness. As a human. …Except I thought I was only imagining him being able to relate. *confused look*
You know, I think I’m hearing something supernatural though either way. It’s just too weird I saw an image of Lake Monona in my head from the 1960’s… *laugh*
Also about Lacey:
If Michael is Blenheim Bouquet then Lem is Santal Blanc. Or vice versa.
…And she has to trust that one of them will be happier without her for eternity. And vice versa.
“It’s just true.” says Harold.
“I thought he was gay!”
“I’m not!” says Michael with a suggestive smile.
Harold and Lacey are thrown by this.
“Lem. Why didn’t you just claim me?” she says.
“That’s a horrible way of putting it.” he says. “I can’t believe you’re not repulsed by the act of homosexuality so much as me not loving you enough. Or me repeating my abuse with Jack over and over and over again.”
“I can see why you like Harold.” she says to Scott. But then she looks at Michael and feels relieved and cries a tiny bit.
Elliott is unsurprised by this.
“See. See how she reacted to me.” he says to Lem. “Lem, that’s how it happened. Reread it if you have to. You can’t leave her vulnerable. She’s like London.”
*Joe Jr.’s eyes light-up (otherwise possibly known lovingly and jokingly as Hoe Jr.)*
“You have a curious mind, Lacey.” says Michael seriously.
“I wish I knew so much more.” she says.
“It’s not like they just grab her tits!” says Lem’s former classmate. “It’s not like they just grab her tits and she-“ he waves his hand. “I think she was fooled.”
“Lem what’s happening to her right now?!” says another man from Choate.
“She’s met his former boyfriends. Or at least me.” says one man. Not in reference to Michael. He shrugs his shoulders about Bobby Sr..
“Come on. You should go to bed.” says Michael.
“It’s also very triggering Lem. It reminds me of what Mark did to me with all those scheming women he dated when we were first together. I had to convince him that they weren’t all just his friends. I had to convince him that they wanted a relationship with him. And some of them probably still stalk us thinking something will happen. Waiting for him to be with them. And he’s literally ended contact with all of them very clearly. They try to friend him on places like LinkedIn…and there’s no reason for it. If you really were straight…Jack reminds me of those women. He won’t take no, demands to be seen as the object of your epic, profound affection, and yet might be a vile joke. A vain farce. An ugly, sad myth. …And your willful self sexual abuse…is heinous.” She smiles calmly and kindly. “Don’t lie. Don’t play games. If you don’t love me enough I won’t rape you to get your love in some losing pact with the Devil. And I shouldn’t have to say that. Having to say that is disgusting and a total rejection of my actual soul.”
“I screwed-up.” says Jack seriously. Without irony. Without euphemism. He sees something terrifying. “Not about you in that way!” he says to Lacey…and she knows what he means…or does she?