Lacey really does look like Marilyn Monroe.
La Ciudad by ODESZA plays.
(Adult content below)
The problem is…as much as Lacey hears the beat in La Ciudad like an Egyptian…and longs to dance to it…which is outside of time and space….she seems woefully silly at times. Because yes La Ciudad is supposed to be sexual but Lacey is actually above such things and can rock the beat almost better than ODESZA. It’s a very Egyptian beat at its core and it irritates her how they slow it down too much just a bit. And other times she’s in awe of ODESZA. …They mix tribal dance of Central Africa with Egypt. And then what!? Shaker or African American folk beats? With New Age? With orgasmic whispers!?!
And then the song ends.
So awkward!
But…it’s genius anyway.
My Tears Are Becoming A Sea by M83 plays.
“The problem is…she’s totally unaware. At times. By nature.
She’s…brilliant. But…even with her Marilyn Monroe body…she would have thought it made sense to go without a bra. …Just like how she can never figure out what people think of her otherwise in other ways.
So…in 1976 she could have shown-up at my apartment dressed like that. Thinking it was chic. …Our generation didn’t do that possibly as much. But she’s young enough not to realize the meaning in 1976.
Yes. She really could have been Bobby’s friend. People would have thought they were buddies. And picked-up on an attraction from him…but…it also would have really creeped them out. Not for reasons of sexual perversion. But because the combination of them would have seemed…creepy. Just…really…really…really creepy. As in…the supernatural.
Somehow lightbulbs would have gone off in people’s heads and they would have wondered why it was so…extremely disturbing. Why? Because they’re both ‘psychic’ (Lacey more so) and she would have seemed…like a ghost. They would have seemed…like ancient Irish people in a cave on Halloween. Drawing the dead into our world everywhere they walked, and angels and demons. Because that’s just their spiritual DNA. And together it would have creeped most people out. …If there is an Illuminati the whole world is experiencing it a bit right now.
The ancient Irish are creepy.” says Lem.
Joe Kennedy Junior goes into shock. He didn’t anticipate this all.
“Why!?” says Elliott Roosevelt.
October Language by Belong plays.
“The stuff Charismatics get spiritually high off of…is real. Even if they barely have any clue what it is…and barely experience it at all.” says Joe Kennedy Junior. “They hype-up nonsense. False promises. False prophecies. But…it’s actually very real. Lacey can conjure pandemics that kill millions totally unintentionally. And my family…had a gift for conjuring too.” says Joe Kennedy Junior. “We were all just witches and wizards.
But Lacey isn’t like that. She worships God. Wholeheartedly.
So why was there a pandemic? Because her pain was that great.”
“Eww!! Not true!” says Casi.
“Oh my God! She’s such a narcissist!!” says another Millennial woman, who’s deeply narcissistically offended and devastated.
“No. It’s true.” says Joe. “I’m sorry you refuse to understand or can’t.”
“She’s ugly!!!” shrieks another livid living woman.
“Oh my GOD!! She’s common!!” say most Americans around the world. “Oh my God! She’s like us! EVERYONE IS LIKE US!!!!!” they say hurling their genitalia around the world like banshees out of Hell, in shrill, obnoxious tones.
“Damn! I’m so hurt!” say most living people sincerely.
“I can’t give that much!!!” yell more Americans around the world. Gilded Lily by Cults plays for them as they both self-aggrandize and victimize themselves to compete with Lacey.
“Hold-on are most of these people white?” asks a reader.
“Yes.” confesses Bobby.
“White Americans?” asks a Black man.
“Yeah.” confesses Bobby.
“Ok. So you mean to tell me nothing would have happened between Lacey and Bobby?” says a woman who died recently who’s Black.
“No! They’re really just friends in 1976.” says his first wife in the afterlife. “It’s bizarre…by our standards…but in 1976 it would have been acceptable. People were very experimental back then.”
So Marilyn Monroe but petite and ladylike would have shown up at Lem’s house. And Bobby…wouldn’t have thought much of it. Why? Because…she looks like Marilyn Monroe. And she’s so innocent. Which is exactly the kind of ‘back to nature’ vibe the 1970’s was supposed to about but…perhaps all of us are naive. And not quite as sophisticated as we imagine in some way, although be careful assuming.
And last night Lacey had a dream about it.
Early in the evening we all decide to paint. Lacey has everyone painting. Including Bobby. Lacey actually is very into painting and has been since childhood. She loves art. She’s not…especially gifted at it. But she doesn’t care…or wouldn’t care as she just loves art that much. But it was never cultivated in her. She tried to cultivate it herself and her parents bought supplies. But…they didn’t take her seriously beyond letting her ‘play at it.’ …She had to force them to let her play the viola more properly with lessons and in an actual orchestra.
She had to force her parents to let her take anything seriously other than their perspective on everything. Or she had to outwit them. And she did.
And at that Satan regrets leaving Christ. The music was so good in Heaven!!
So Lacey walks around painting. And I’m sorry but if you think I’m gay…I’m about to lose you. And you’ll have to deal with it. I’m sorry. It has to be said.
Lacey hangs-out in the hallway. Painting.
“What are you doing…with…your outfit today?” I ask her. She’s separated enough from everyone else enough to be safe to talk to.
“Lem! You like fashion too.” says Lacey, brightly and lovingly. “Well. I’m going for a sleek line.” says Lacey very artistically.
“I can see your breasts.” I say.
“Oh. Yes.” says Lacey.
I sigh. “Lacey…you can’t walk around like that.”
“Why!?” she says like a cheerful feminist trooper.
“I want to touch you!” I say in a whisper, dramatically.
“But you’re not supposed to.” she says with stoic grandeur and yet effervescence. As if Queen Elizabeth II was explaining appearing in The Seven Year Itch as herself in Marilyn Monroe’s body with little difference in the performance and expecting to have an incredibly dour, possibly morbidly serious intellectual conversation.
“Lacey! We don’t talk about that!” says a female Millennial hater to Lacey.
“Talk about what!? Sex!? Art!? Death!?” says Lacey, becoming enraged.
Romeo And Juliet by Prokofiev plays.
Getting back to my moment.
“Lacey…sweetie…let’s go talk!” I say.
Prepared to be shocked.
…So I look around the room and observe that all the kids are busy painting. Some are drinking. But mostly everyone is painting.
Shostakovich: Suite For Jazz Orchestra No. 2 plays.
“They seem fine.” says Lem, pulling her into his bedroom.
He (I) shuts the door.
I stare at Lacey.
I come on to her breathlessly, surprising myself.
And stunned…she begins making love to me.
Why? Because…we’re almost instantly in love. And so she can easily imagine us being one…but she also assumes I might be gay. …So…out of respect…she doesn’t expect anything of me and tries to lovingly allow me to reject her completely if that’s what I so chose. So she didn’t know what…I was thinking.
Sympathy For The Devil by The Rolling Stones plays for Louis Hill Junior. Why? Go think.
“Albert Sweitzer was a good film.” says Jerome Hill. “In Glen Cove.”
“Or in my neighborhood.” says Mary Tyler Moore.
“Tracks for those who don’t go on tour with Elsie.” says Lacey.
“They’ll catch on. Eventually, hopefully.” says Lem.
Keen to Cross the Pond 