Author Archives: L.

Flow by Crooked Colours plays.

That’s about what our house looked like if reincarnation is real. Maybe it’s a bit bigger. Let’s see…

It wasn’t huge but it was very large.

I was the second cousin of a Duke or an Earl. Maybe first cousin. But I didn’t have a title and my family was heavily involved in industry. We were industrialists.

I was born in the 1870’s and she was born in the 1880’s. No. She’s not JFK. He was never a woman and she was never a man.

But I did make gay faces and imitate them. Because I was gay in my head. Even though I wasn’t gay in reality.

Let’s visit her at our old house. And let’s say that she was the niece of the Duke of Lennox for now. She didn’t have a title. Her portrait may never have been painted nor her photo taken. Mine either. Or if it was it might not have been kept. We had no descendants. All of our children were stillborn or died in infancy. It was particularly heartbreaking for Lacey, although I cared too obviously. But she was the mummy.

I show up at the door.

“Hello!” I say.

She smiles.

“I thought I was gay.” I say. Let’s get that out of the way.

And what’s her reaction? She laughs.

It’s not quite that funny to me. And I feel bad for her. But that just makes her angry. Because she thinks it’s mildly hilarious.

“What time is dinner?” I say.

She looks upset. “Same time it always is.” she says before walking away.

Her laugh isn’t jaunty and middle class like the Jane Austen series you see now on PBS. Her laugh is…what would seem haughty and inappropriate to you today. Her laugh is…sincere. It’s a snicker. Maybe Queen Camilla could laugh that way still. It’s too bad it’s not seen as much as it was. It’s a sight.

I wander in and sit down and the maids smile politely at me as if I’ve never been anyone else. Then I realize I should have some tea.

An Indian man suggests we turn all evil Boomers into eggs again. And make them dance like in Ally McBeal. “Time Is On My Side” performed by The Rolling Stones plays. Why? Because they perverted my story. And they stubbornly refuse to believe that I imitated gay men. They’re too arrogant and stupid to comprehend the idea and too conceited to believe anything they do or think is evil. An Indian man suggests we make dancing eggs for our amusement. Helpless buffoons we use to have fun by shaking them in eggs and watching them dance like toys.

“That’s brutal.” says Lacey.

“Yes. Hell is worse.” says the Indian man.

Take Me to Church by Hozier plays.

Lacey looks at the man on the cover and laughs at him. “What is their fascination with sticking their hands in their pockets? What the fuck does that even mean?” says Lacey. “It’s a threat to the old money aristocracy. But I can never figure out what they’re implying.”

“I agree.” says a man who knew us both. He laughs with Lacey.

Why is he in my house?

“I tell you Lem! We should plant lavender this year!” he says cheerfully.

“It’s my house!” I say.

“Is it?” he says.

“We wrote these lyrics for you!” says The American Kennedy Class.

“Who is it directed to?” asks Lem.

“The big guns in your house!” says Jack, excited.

“The big guns?” says Lem, I.

“Yes! Whoever has the social power in your house.” says JFK, like it should be obvious. He assumed it was me and is me. But it’s not.

Lacey’s family had a title. In her immediate family. And yes, being related to the Spencer family was a very big deal…but her title meant more.

“No. You’d have to address this to Lacey.” I say.

Let’s read the lyrics as JFK sings them on behalf of The Kennedy Class to my Scottish aristocrat wife.

Take Me to Church

My lover’s got humor
She’s the giggle at a funeral
Knows everybody’s disapproval
I should’ve worshiped her sooner
If the Heavens ever did speak
She’s the last true mouthpiece
Every Sunday’s getting more bleak
A fresh poison each week
“We were born sick”, you heard them say it
My church offers no absolutes
She tells me, “Worship in the bedroom”
The only Heaven I’ll be sent to
Is when I’m alone with you
I was born sick, but I love it
Command me to be well
A-, Amen, Amen, Amen

Take me to church
I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life
Take me to church
I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life

If I’m a pagan of the good times
My lover’s the sunlight
To keep the Goddess on my side
She demands a sacrifice
Drain the whole sea
Get something shiny
Something meaty for the main course
That’s a fine looking high horse
What you got in the stable?
We’ve a lot of starving faithful
That looks tasty
That looks plenty
This is hungry work

Take me to church
I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I’ll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife
Offer me my deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life
Take me to church
I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I’ll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife
Offer me my deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life

No masters or kings when the ritual begins
There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin
In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene
Only then I am human
Only then I am clean
Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen

Take me to church
I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life
Take me to church
I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life

Source: LyricFind

“My goodness!” says Lacey. “Was I so-called deity?” Lacey asks God.

“Yes! If there’s reincarnation you may have been what the Romans thought were deities. Of course that’s a lie. But…you had what humans would call superpowers.” says an Englishman, who’s not me. He fancies Lacey.

“Alright.

Well…you sound insane, Jack. If I was a fake deity…you’re right to call my godhood a lie. It was. Except…I wasn’t exactly human either. I wasn’t alien. I was…like Zeus. And I died.

Umm…I’m not going to be your lover. And you seem rather confused about what’s going on.

Did you think I was your lover through Lem?” says Lacey.

“Yes!” he says. If there’s reincarnation.

“What pathetic drivel. Why would I ever fuck you?” says Lacey.

“I agree!” says Lady Dashwood.

“He’s vile looking.” says Lacey.

“Is there something wrong with your bottom?” asks Marie Antoinette.

“No.” says JFK.

“No. You’ll just never do. I’m sorry.” says Lacey. “You misunderstood.”

Lady Dashwood nods in agreement with Lacey.

“Now…as to the only Heaven you’ll ever see? Did you mean with Lem or me?” says Lacey.

“I wrote it with the assumption that it was Lem who I was talking to. But it’s actually addressed to you. I’m directing it to you.” says JFK to Lacey.

“You will never be alone with me.” says Lacey.

JFK thinks.

“So are you stuck for eternity in Hell or ceasing to exist?” says Lacey.

“I hope not?” says JFK.

“Oh dear. You’ll have to straighten that out with God.

And then what’s this bit about ‘the starving faithful’, the ocean being drained and my stables?” says Lacey.

JFK cries. He rarely cries.

“And the part of the song about class not existing in Illuminati sex-magic ritual is utter rubbish. No human can escape class. It’s always there in the fallen world. It can lessen or be slightly altered…but not necessarily completely and it’s always there.” says Lacey. “At least that’s what I’ve observed. Of course…how you handle it is of the utmost importance.”

“The starving faithful are people who Lem doesn’t put out for. But to you it’s about being superior and being mean about it. I automatically assumed you were totally heartless towards the poor. The ocean being drained just sounded good. Because I assumed Lem was jealous of the sea. He was so quiet near the sea and I loved the sea…so I assumed he was jealous of my love for the sea. So I was giving you the power over the ocean as much as me and my followers can Satanically give you. To appease you. Your stables? Ahh…Lem was withholding, I assumed. And I hated his old money ancestry. So…I was threatening to kill your horses. And eat them.” says JFK. “Like…brutally rape you and him to get off and fill my sexual appetites, that I called tensions.”

“Hold on. I have to process all of that.” says Lacey. “Lock him up.” she says to God.

Later.

Take Me to Church by Hozier plays.

“Alright.” says Lacey.

Jack eyes Palestinian and Israeli food. Drools. On a Friday night. Brisket. Chocolate. Fresh vegetables. He has a hunger-seizure staring at it.

“Why are you so hungry?” asks Lacey.

“The Irish put me through the Potato Famine yo reach me a lesson.” explains JFK.

Later.

“Jack. Lacey isn’t who your family has thought she was all these years. I’m sorry.” says a dead woman.

“God will have to deal with the mess that is Take Me to Church. And I can’t figure out what the hands in pockets mean but I hope to someday.

“It’s sexual!” says a dead British aristocrat.

“Oh. Because it displays the crotch?” says Lacey.

“Yes!” says the man. “And it showcases it, of course.”

“For what purpose?” asks Lacey.

“To request pardon…for kicking our ass.” he says, laughing.

“They’re like weird, smug lesbians but as men.” says Lacey.

“Are you all non-binary?” seriously asks Sarah Ramirez of the Kennedys.

“Lem did you get jiggy with a huge bitch?” asks a dead English aristocrat.

“And completely stab Lacey in the back?” asks Lem. “No!”

“I have a feeling that’s maybe what it seems like.” says the dead English aristocrat.

“Jack…we’re wondering if you were a hateful non-binary person.” says a living English member of the upper class.

“Yeah. You’re sick.” says Nancy to Lacey.

“I’m fighting a cold.” says Lacey.

“That’s not what I mean.” says Nancy.

“Are you referring to me?” asks Lem.

“Heck yeah!” says Nancy.

“What exactly do you imagine is happening?” asks Lem.

(Adult content below)

Back In Love by LEISURE plays.

“She has sex with your bones.” says Nancy, confused.

“His actual dead bones?” asks George Bush.

“Yes!! That’s what they do in the secret societies!” says Nancy.

“Actually…I find that endearing. It’s very painful to think we’re so separated.” says Lem. “But no.”

Masquerada, Suite From The Incidental Music For Orchestra by Aram Khachaturian plays.

“Then what the Hell is actually happening?” asks Nancy.

“I manifest.” says Lem. “Enough for her to sense me.”

“Goodbye!” says a skeptical psychic.

“No. Really. We do.” says Elliott Roosevelt.

“In her room!??” screeches a psychic.

“YES!!!” yells Louis.

“Then you’re battling Schizophrenia!” says the screeching psychic.

“NO! That doesn’t meet the criteria for schizophrenia. And actually…we do manifest them. Often.” says the Illuminati. “Daily.”

“Yup.” says Jonah Wiley. “It’s in the Bible.”

“I can’t get anything!” says the psychic like she’s a control in a scientific experiment.

“So what!??” says the Illuminati. “You’re not us. How do you think we control everything!?”

“They’re right. Sorry.” says Salem Massachusetts. “How long have you been practicing witchcraft?”

“Five to ten years.” she says.

“My great grandmother was a witch. These people are…very dangerous. So am I.” says the Salem witch.

“Then what the fuck am I supposed to make of this blog?” she says.

“Are you covering for Nancy right now?” asks the Salem witch.

“Yeah.” she says, shrugging.

“Nancy. They’re manifesting like in The Ghost And Mrs. Muir.” says the CIA.

“That’s not possible!” says Nancy, freaking-out.

“Why!? Because you ruined my romantic relationship with Lacey!??” says Scott Fitzgerald.

“No. It’s possible.” says a witch from PA.

“How!?” asks Nancy.

“Well…how did the Witch of Endor do it?” asks the PA witch.

“Yeah. It’s in the Bible, Nancy.” says Dr. Moritz.

“Then how is Lacey doing it!!?” asks Nancy.

“We just emerge.” says Lem.

“She might be slightly dead.” says a Salem witch.

“So you’re not hallucinations?” says Nancy.

“No. We’re not. She’s not hallucinating. That’s not what’s medically happening.

Look…we move things. We make noises that other people can hear. We…tell her when she’s sick at times. We plan things. We do things to at an extent like a living person. It’s not sick. It’s sad. Very sad. But it’s not sick.” says Lem.

Silence.

“Nancy…have you read Shakespeare?” asks Lem.

“No. Yes? Sort of.” says Nancy.

“Yeah. It’s there. Do you find The Ghost And Mrs. Muir sick?” asks Lacey.

“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to Lem.” says Nancy.

“Oh well.

Answer my question!” says Lacey.

“No. But that’s a movie!” says Nancy.

“Yeah. And she’s as pretty as me too.” says Gene Tierney. “Or prettier.”

“But it’s a movie.” says Nancy.

“So what!?” says Theodore Roosevelt. “Nancy!”

“Okay. It’s not sick.

It’s…perverse.” says Nancy.

“It could be. But…I don’t know that it is in my situation.” says Lacey.

“Nancy. Her father was born in 1894. Most men who she’s similar enough with to fall in love are dead. What do you want!?” says Dr. Moritz.

“Yeah. Alright.” says Nancy. “There’s no Skippy Handelman?”

“Mmm. No. Doubtful.

He was supposed to be a unique person.

And…really…he’s Lem Billings. He was literally inspired by Lem Billings.” says a writer for NBC.

“I’ve checked. There are few men available.” says Lem. “It’s fairly hopeless.”

“I’m not surprised.” says a Salem witch.

“Why!?” says Nancy.

“Genetics.” she says.

“No. It’s not as if God let’s living humans talk to the dead everyday. But it happens to some people in desperate situations. And she’s in one.” says Lem.

And at that Lem listens to Appalachian Spring with Lacey and sees her perspective. And begins to weep. Not as a gay man, but as a straight man…and really as just himself. Not possibly many, if any living men would understand.

“Uh no!” says a dead Jewish man. “You don’t see what we do.”

“How do genetics allow her to see that!??” says Dr. Moritz.

The dead Jewish man sighs. “She’s been very fertile. She was created to bear children. We created the Boomers. And she has that perspective on everything. And it’s our generational perspective. It’s her personality.

What’s so sad?

Even though this song is about Appalachia…it’s also about New York City. Old New York City. The city of immigrants. And….Lacey sees them. So do I. I’m their grandson. Lem gets it too. It’s about death.

It’s about death, love, hope, tragedy. And human dreams. It’s about the human heart.” he says.

“You can hear the dawn of the 20th Century at the end of the song.” says Lacey. “And all that hope.”

“No. That’s not something everyone can feel.” says Tsar Putin.

“Can you?” asks Joe Biden.

Strauss plays.

“Yes!” he says.

“I can’t.” says Joe. “Barely, anyway.”

“Can you?” a Salem witch asks the Kennedys.

“No.” says JFK. “Not really.”

“Then you built the music hall for Lem?” asks the witch.

“Yes and no.” says JFK.

“I don’t think I grasped the meaning.” says Lem. “If I’d loved you I’d not have committed suicide purely over that building.”

“Why?” asks the witch.

“We never made love.

But even if we had…I’d have thought staying alive for that building was worth it. To honor him. And the love we shared. At least that’s what I think.” says Lem. “I tried to be respectful to him and his family. But it irritated me. And I hated that place. It looked stupid from the outside, at least, and the acoustics were awful.”

“Would you have felt flattered by it?” asks Joe Jr. of Lacey.

“YES!” says Lacey. She fights back tears.

Joe looks sullen and pale.

“You STOLE MY LIFE!” yells Joe at JFK.

“Yeah. Lem and Lacey aren’t the same person in that way Jack.” explains a reader. “You can’t build the theater for Lacey through Lem in that way.”

“Why didn’t you just build it for me!!?” says Jackie.

“Because we’re not really like that!” says JFK.

“Like what!?!” says Jackie.

“British aristocrats!” yells something.

“Yeah. I’d never have built it.” says Joe.

“But what an honor!” says Lacey.

“Yes!” says Queen Victoria.

“DAMMIT!!” yells John Quincy Adams. “DAMMIT!!”

“Lacey can you see them?” asks the Salem witch.

“No. But I can in a way.

John Adams is in my living room. Jackie and JFK are in my dining room. I’m sitting with Lem on the sofa. And Joe is by a closet.” says Lacey.

They all leave except for Lem. And then try to return.

“I wound have made that place far more grand.” says Jackie.

“And I might have married.” says Lem.

“Why?” says JFK.

“No. Not true. But…I think it would have helped me.” says Lem. “I needed to feel free. From you.”

“That’s just riffing. And ribbing.” says a gay man.

“No. It’s not. I couldn’t stand him.” says Lem.

“Okay. So…that’s just weird.” says Nancy.

“Nancy it’s tragic.” says Lem.

“No.” says Nancy.

“IT’S TRAGIC.” says Lem.

“SHE’S UGLY AND EVIL!!!” says Nancy, rocking herself back and forth.

“No. She’s human.” says Harold Loeb.

“NO! I’m human. She’s EVIL!!!” says Nancy.

“No. She’s human. You just don’t want to feel any sympathy for her at all.” says the CIA.

“So what!?” says Nancy.

“Nancy. That’s weird.” says the CIA.

“Yeah. I’ve had to realize I have that problem with her too Nancy.” says Casi.

“Me too. Somewhat.” says Chris.

“Yeah. Me too.” says her legal step-mother-in-law.

A shadow moves around her dining room quickly before disappearing. Lacey’s unimpressed, so to speak. Common occurrence for her.