Pauley's Tavern and Pool Hall

Daydreams to cope with sometimes take on lives of their own....

al·le·go·ryˈ (aləˌgôrē) noun

plural noun: allegories

   "A story, poem, or picture that can be interpreted to reveal a hidden meaning, typically a moral or political one."

   “An Allegory is a form of extended metaphor in which objects, persons and actions in a narrative, are equated with meanings that lie outside the narrative itself.

The underlining meaning has moral, social, religious or political significance of abstract ideas as charity, greed and envy.

Thus an allegory is a story with two meanings, a literal meaning and a symbolic meaning.”

   Yes, I looked it the f*ck up and with that you know what is needed to be known to understand what the Pauley’s Tavern and Pool Hall book series is about.

  Oh I should add that the censor is pretty much off most of the time. PG this story is not. PG13 neither. R yes; but beyond that?

Shhh....

Now some background info on the place ”The R*tards" go to play.

(Pauley’s term of endearment for his patrons that don’t act their age, especially when sh*tfaced.

Think about what "r*tarded" means, then how it's used in every day language to be an insulting description.

Just like calling a child a "b*stard", some words should be questioned as too f*cked up to use like they're whatever.

"Wh***" is another one with an edge, and yes these words among others will be questioned, but you as readers decide the fate of these words as they apply to your personal vocabularies.)

   Pauley’s Tavern and Pool Hall is a sort of 'speak-easy' name for The Iron Horseshoe Tavern established back in 1974 by Paul "Pauley" Kelly.

It’s called this to keep what are now known as 'hipster' invaders away, and its whereabouts only known by word of mouth.

Is it elitist?

Perhaps.

Or it is about self preservation and preventing as long as possible, their haven from being taken over by those that do not honor tradition, nor would uphold Pauley's Code of Conduct.

  New folks are welcome, as long as they can respect the School House Rules and don't complain when Lucy gets unplugged; otherwise foos are getting their a*ses expelled!

   Over the years The Tavern has become a home away from home club house for old timers and mostly blue collar roughneck man children with its latest motley generation currently in their 30’s, give or take.

Some married with children or divorced with visitation on the weekends.

They have bills to pay, money to save, jobs to not f*ck up in order to do both.

Occasionally these a*sholes may brawl and Pauley’s shotgun Grace taken out to dance, with Jukebox Lucy playing the soundtrack; but overall the place is mellow on a weekday afternoon.

   The crowd that made The Tavern its watering hole is loyal and there is a sense of kinship between the boozer drunks.

Stories this tavern has no lack of thanks to the antics of the patrons, which also include my own.

   I wrote myself in as a character using my real name because all this stemmed from a daydream I had, to keep me company while I went for long walks with detours, in my new town of residence;

Boyle Heights, California.

   Though home for me will always be my beloved

East Los Angeles, Califas

   One day I thought of a man that didn’t exist to help me move on and let go of the past, by focusing on the existing hope of the present and lessons learned.

  Perhaps it was my way to prepare myself mentally for the future because I don't have much to my name other than my imagination.

 “Mikey, Jacob, Bobby, Joe, Paul, Davey, Alex, Dennis and Lou”

   Names of made up men that are a close knit pack of pals I will never forget.

They all represent an aspect of the men I have known, both in the good and bad; but they are human, even if fictional.

They are part of the details to the symposium full of zanies.

   This story experiment at times is a sort of open love letter to men that have shown their integrity even as they also try to get things right.

These men are strong but also weak.

Happy but still stressed.

Hopeful but discouraged at times with what they feel is out of their control.

It’s a mix we all endure, but with them; I feel how unequal men still are when it comes to expressing their feelings on it all.

How do I know?

I'm a daughter of one that expressed them regardless.

   The women in this saga also are shown going through their own life roller coasters and attaining their triumphs for they too are strong and capable.

It’s just with them, the way their stories are told is different.

How different?

The goal is to show we could use a little bit of understanding from the fellas.

With their stories, I hope to tell men that not all of us are their enemies or psychos, that more often than not, there was an issue with communicating and emotions go on edge.

We can be worthy of trusting and also respecting.

I hope to tell, we can have our bad days too, even if our hairstyles look nice; and we don't always know what the f*ck we're doing either.

We do know we could be wrong also.

No really.

Women are capable of knowing they can be wrong. Getting us to admit it, now that's something else.

*cough*

I want to show the men I was able to reach through to, women can be their friends as well, and shoulder part of the old burdens that say a man must bare these alone.

Even as women, we can relate and be more than arm candy hood ornaments, "Honey can you bring me a beer?".

  But this is to reassure the males that are willing to read, they'll have a place in what is usually considered female terrain.

  Yes this is a quirky soap opera Spanglish novela, for a subculture of those that bought in to what a friend called:

"The Rockabilly Retirement Plan for Punks, Skins and Goths".

And what was surprising, the guys did get in to it as much as the gals. I mean, how can I write an open love letter to men, if I don't include what matters to and interests them?

  From the serious like Erectile Dysfunction or even the car not starting and being already late for work.

To the "Are you f*cking serious!?!" and the latter said in two manners.

One with enthusiastic glee like they scored, and the other in BOHICA despair.

Espeakin' of which....

This is a bedtime story dedicated most of all to Our Troops and 'Docs' green side or civilian; for I do know the power of a reality break, if not reading oneself asleep.

And this because I want to "Play It Forward" and yes I do mean play.

  The man I would spend countless silent moments, wondering about his happiness and safety; he was the life lesson I needed to get me out of a bad place; even as I felt helpless knowing which bad place he was headed back to.

This Army Coptor Doctor ridding one of Anansi's spiderweb threads, tied to the foot of a Dragonfly Dustoff back in Stan; reminded me why being able to control your focus, makes dealing with difficult things, easier to cope with.

The chaos will still be there, it's how you allow it to affect you, that makes a very important difference.

You either learn how to hold on and fight or you don't. That "don't" had been my concern for him.

There was a reason his story began to stand out to me.

"Yet for me that also came from the desert, compassion I also knew how to show...."

  Eyes like his and lack of smile, you don't forget.

He had the face of many that aren't returning all that well; but his face comforted me when it would look silly; but haunted when it was a stoic with unintended, resigned grace.

  So this allegory that aims to be a cult classic, does have its soul, as that odd daydream of mine, found a life of its own.

And it became a Shoretale Fable of Therapy in Motion and thinking up the answers that become the solutions.

It's all just rhyming for the reasons, that carry us through the seasons of change.

Suggestion: Look up Grandiose, Ostentatious, Pretentious, Narcissistic, Delusional, Self Absorbed Motor Mouth, but most of all Ironic Catharsis. Thank you.

Back To The Top Where It Starts

Copyright ©2017 Rev. Mother L. G. Flores. All Rights Reserved.

Heaven Please Bless All That is "Pauley's...." and May No Harm Come To This Therapy In Motion, Adult After School Special, What Happens Cuando Nos Ponemos Las Pilas, Mark In Miles Stones, for This Dreamer and Music Maker Shake, Rattle n' Roll!

Amen.

"Siempre Fiel En Lagrimas Y Sangre"

"I Wonder..."

Part I

 

The Hot Crazy Matrix

Click On Link To Watch What Got Me Typing A Day Away

And The Date To Remember is

August 25, 2014

  I wonder where I place on this. I am medicated and in therapy, and I put on make-up yesterday and styled my hair slightly, still left it down and natural curls soft. My neighbor has seen me looking frumpy and with toothpaste on my face to dry up break-outs, but not dolled up. He does a double take and approves of how I look, saying I'm attractive. That was cool, boosted my ego a bit.

Last date I go out on, my friend tells me his estranged wife (divorce not final yet) seen my picture and said she commented on my looks and what he described was an ex noticing he's moving on with chickies that threaten herself perception of being the only beautiful woman her husband had eyes for. But my looks and mellow, medicate and in therapy, calm demeanor still didn't make for a love connection.

I don't know what I am on the number scale. I figure I place low when I am sick or sleep deprived with no make-up on. I know I'm not a 10 because I need braces, my breasts have drooped, I don't have a flat stomach with a plump butt. I don't do the hours of grooming and primping of a pin-up bettie that the guys drool over; but I would like to think when I do put in the effort, I'm in the “Dating Zone” range.

“Wife Zone”, I know how to be a companion, I cook and I have met others that have the same interests as me, it’s possible, but I'm not a serial dater. I'm holding out for when that feeling is present, the instinct to say "Okay, I'll go out on a date with you." I'm told I've very warm and loving, sassy, quirky, interesting, have opinions on politics and I'd like to be commended for my values now as an adult entering the second half of 30-something. I think I have the potential to be a great wife with the right person, but I am crazy.

Not “5150 take me back in!” crazy; more like my ambitions with the life I'd like to live. I don't vandalize a man's property to be spiteful. That's being reactive to disagreement and rejection. Fatal Attraction boiling bunnies, ah… NO!!!!! Actually that's funny the man doing the breakdown referenced that.

I needed a Scottish last name to give "Mikey" so his initials would be MAD. The running gag is for “The Angry Scotsman!”  He originally was named "Michael Anthony Douglas" or "Michael Douglas". I was playing on the actor detail for a future set up of folks saying "Like the actor?" I even tied in his wife Catherine Zeta Jones. Two years pass until I did a fact check from brain farting, not sure if Michael Douglas was the son or father being there is Kirk Douglas. I see Michael Douglas' face. It finally hits me.

He's the cheating husband from "Fatal Attraction" whose indiscretion caused the woman he committed adultery with; to become a stalker and spoiler alert, his wife cleans up the mess her husband made.

I haven't seen the movie, was too creeped out to watch it though Glenn Close is an amazing actress, but when I seen a snippet of the film on a psycho scale of movie characters, her acting put her on that Cable TV special countdown; where she's beyond flipped and says "I will not be ignored!" she nailed psycho very well. The boiled pet bunny in the pot from what I remember there wasn't a direct close up of the dead rabbit but it could have been edited out for TV and my memory is foggy, but I remember that being shocking. I think it may have been the musical score for the dramatic effect as I learned in music class that had the suspense factor. Try that sometime. Watch a movie and pay attention when there will be a spike in drama of some sort. Then go back and re-watch that seen with audio off. It’s a lot different without that detail of director’s intent. Or maybe it was isolated in violence and the slow walk up close up? Sorry I’m in movie geek mode, as I was not making a point already, ahem…

So considering "Mikey" is based on a few men that were good and/or bad for me, that brought out the good and/or bad in me; I was like there is no way he can have that last name!!! It was good I caught it because that irony would be twisted and it was bad enough; but seriously TWO WHOLE FUCKING YEARS!!!

 It stared me in the face and even for being a former Blockbuster Video employee that knew many movies I never watched and the actors in them, it took me a long time to notice and his last name was changed to "Duncan" that means "Dark Warrior--Brown Haired Man--Chieftain--Noble--Head". It worked. When it comes time to annotate, I’ll hopefully be able to scan an image from the 9 of Wands/Clubs from one of my Tarot decks to spot why it fit, and The King of Spades from another deck. These particular cards, Dr. Carl Jung I may have been channeling.

Back to me wondering.

I suppose to someone, I could be a "Unicorn", I've thought I've met men that were also Unicorns and I idealized them, mostly out of "Daddy's Girl" based limerence. That's me having abandonment issues with my father that had a duty to commit to, but didn't so I hope/expect that a romantic connection make up for his absence. I'm dealing with this; I don't want to be bound to that way of thinking and feeling. Actually, let me rephrase that. I am not bound to that way of thinking and feeling. I’m cool with my pop’s now. He’ll always be my dad. I love you daddy. Te amo papa.

Is there a female take on a male chart where there are men that are “Hot” and/or “Crazy”?

 My children fathers were flukes; that being of Mexican heritage, allowed them to last as my mates as long as they did. Old world Mexicans want to see their daughters married and having children. We tend to get the children part down, not so much the married. At least I got the rings when other gals just got humped and dumped with a parting gift.

Furby was "Hot" but he really down played his intelligence and focused on being buff instead. His nickname for me was "Nerd" because I was the smartest chick he knew according to him, and expressed myself in a manner that I suppose was “well spoken” to what he had been accustomed to. I still remember his complaint about other women and him praising me for being different. I also recall when he called me all stoked and proud, that he rode his bicycle up this steep trail and I was the first person he thought of to share this accomplishment, because he knew I would celebrate it for him. I used to encourage him. POINT!

He said it was a pet peeve when he would ask his dates that he went on about being Barbie’s basically with the breast implants and tiny waists, models *bleh*; he would ask them what they wanted to do. Their reply: "I dunno, what do you want to do?" He then asks where they want to go. Their reply: "I dunno, where do you want to go?"

I don't think he mentioned asking them what they were in the mood to eat. He seemed to have a thing for petite females that starve themselves which included me. That's proof I was crazy for ever being in to him, like he was worth harming my health in order to be fuckable but still not worth loving. He's been on my mind lately.

  Serendipity happened again with word getting back to me that the chick he dropped me for 10+ years ago, I guess they weren't meant to last either. She cheats on him and is engaged to the new guy now that was also a co-worker. He had seen her pull away and how the new guy and her body language were not discrete, at work. I wonder if he remembered me, that is if she broke his heart and seen the past repeating with him on the receiving end. I doubt it, but I did hear someone say about him and her, "Karma is a Bitch." I don’t think that was said in defense of me and acknowledging what I had to overcome, but it was said.

   Karma bein’ a bitch though… It may have been the best for them to move on from each other. I was informed that they were on and off again over these past 10+ years. I didn’t see her at the B-Day Ball he spotted me at, and stared at me for a while, not being very discreet himself about it. I wondered what that meant, especially when he high-tailed it after he confirmed it was me when he got up close to shake my pa-in-law’s hand I was guest of.

  I was told by one of the guys that worked with us in the loading dock, before I quit due to too much drama; I was too much woman for him to handle, and that the stocking crew would laugh at him with how he would try to run and hide when I was near. My former co-worker also said that when I couldn't see, the stocking crew would check out my ass when I would pass by doing returns, and that I was attractive and he was blind. It helped but the hurt was felt.

  My first bf was "Hot" also, but he strung me along for 3 years knowing I wasn't done being in love with him. We meet again years later, he seemed sad when we said our final farewell. He wasn't happy about his life being married to a woman he wasn't thrilled about and had children he loves and wouldn't abandon, but he didn't divorce for the sake of his children. I sensed he felt stuck. Hopefully things changed and they renewed their romance.

  Then there was my "Privileged Friend". He said years later after he's been married and had a child, that he wished he didn't have such a low self-esteem when we were lovers and friends. He expressed regret. I tell him not to regret the life he has with his wife and child, but his sadness was there.

  The Maj. Dipshit, he was 10 yrs my senior and for being older in his then mid 30's and me in my 20's, I liked him and got attached and he strung me along. We have our moment, he uses a text message to cut me loose and yet years later he contradicts himself, just like Furby. I helped him out because I had a feeling something was wrong. Serendipity strikes again and it was me the bipolar, crazy chick that reports his exes that banded together to commit defamation on a fucked up level. He choked up apologizing over the phone and thanked me for helping him. I was married, unhappily but I was married and we both had tempers. We wouldn’t have made it as a couple either.

  A couple more years pass and he recognizes me online at the same dating site we met at. He asks me if I was divorced yet, mind you my looks were the reason why he didn't want to keep in touch. I respond my divorce wasn't final. He gets pissy and says he doesn't want to talk to me until I'm divorced. I reply simply "Goodnight." When my divorce was finally final and a bit of time passes, I look him up. He needs therapy because he then didn't want to talk to me at all. I was over him a while back before, but I thought maybe our old friendship could be revived and a new chapter started. That makes me crazy, or better said, unrealistic and very generous.

  There was one guy that I wondered why he and I didn't date before I ran off and eloped impulsively running against the clock. He and I had a lot in common, the attraction was there, intellectually above all because he commented he liked I had no TV and had a milk crate book case with an eclectic range of topics;  and actually it was him that spotted me like the Maj. Dipshit on that military singles dating site.

  He was cranky, but I was flighty. I think we didn't end up dating because life had different plans for us, but we are cool again. We don't chat often, but the door isn't closed and I smiled huge for him when he announced he met someone and they are officially an item. I hope she's his right one, he's a divorcee and he seemed like the type that love is a very special thing for him. *crossed fingers for no whammies*

  Spooner was "Hot", especially when he was wearing his big boy clothes, like his face filled out but it looked cute on him. I seen him looking sickly, he wasn't "Hot", but he was beautiful to me still. I seen him athletic; he looked good but I think he's only really fit when he deploys. It's like that with a lot of military, both male and female. Talking about crazy, it happens and sadly many service members harmed themselves because of the shit hitting the fan where they were.

  He struck me more as a type that has dealt with or deals with bouts of depression, especially if life circumstances have stressed him. I know depression and anxiety. I know the feeling of being at your wits end. Thinking about it all, I would be crazy to fall for him because males don't tend to express when they are having a tough time. I’m head on, but also tempered with age, so its level of intensity varies depending on who has an opinion, and it is expressed.

Example: I got a buck that’s my age, he’s horrible at returning messages, and yet he asked me not to delete his number when I approached him about what’s the point to have it, and this with wisenheimer ‘tude for our running gag; if he doesn’t reply. He said it’s just that I scare him because I come off strong, and yet he wanted me to keep his number. Again I point out the contradiction that I scare him but he wants to keep in touch, how is that not confusing?

  Granted I am not timid, but it was his perception to think this like a projection due to where he is on his path in life at the moment. He’s expressive actually, but he’s not a love interest, it is battle of the wits for the sake of my jollies and I suppose for him it may be the challenge since he’s a wise ass also. He uses his phone while I have a keyboard. It was a little hard to keep up with me and for be as scary as I am,  he offers his number on St. Valentine’s Day without me asking for it.

  Again not a love interest, he had his chance, he dropped the ball; I crossed him off my list of potential prospects, back last year. We are chummy occasionally, so I figure he has things to figure out and I just a few seconds ago deleted his number. He’s a FB friend, he has a way to contact me, so being chummy is cool, but his phone number was taking up memory space and it felt nice being decisive, now to keep on rollin’…

   Ego, pride, being stubborn if not crippled with social programming. I was crazy to think it didn't matter how much back up he (Spooner) needed, he became special and important to me and that was my choice, even after I was regulated on medication and in therapy. He's long gone, but the learning lessons he represented remained and I'm reminded about why I didn't end up with that one guy that was interested, that seemed we could have if we tried from both agreeing we’d like to.

  If I had ended up with him or the ones before him, I wouldn't be feeling like I'm sensible and rational, pragmatic even; for seeing I can turn something good out of something bad and I actually stand a chance at feeling satisfied with doing "a job well done" my job being writing for the causes that speak to me. I wonder where that would place me on the chart o’ “Crazy & Hot”.

  Considering it all, I don't want to be a "Hot" or "Crazy" number to rank, it already has messed with my self-image and I'm lucky it didn't get severely distorted. I thought this video was funny and some good points were made even in jest. I would have to study the video and look for research to help inspire me further, to create a dichotomy of the observations concluded; to show I do have a sense of humor that men and women need to be briefed on the other. But he was dead pan with his delivery; I really did enjoy listening to him be the comedian.

  I'm used to being considered crazy, and even Furby seemed to liven up in return when my crazy playful side showed through and I got him to do some wild and crazy things himself like break in to a cemetery at night while he heard the barking of the guard dogs that made him nervous. He was a Marine. Then there was the time I felt like being spontaneous and he didn’t believe I wasn’t bluffing and I cooled him off with my drink and he got a kick out of that. It was hot outside, it was ok; we made out after.

  If I had fit his definition of being “hot” enough, then I wouldn't have gone even more crazy as I did with taking out my sadness on myself because I did get in to him when at first I thought he was a ding dong. The cigarette burns down my forearms aren't so noticeable now. I consider them my “hash marks” and I’m covering up the scars with tattoos representing my kiddos. That experience with him turned me stronger and wiser for the wear.

  I'm reminded of my friend and a text convo we had not too long ago. He's the one whose friend told him after my friend lamented about his love life, "You either like them crazy or you make them crazy." I thought that was such sage clarity. I tell him how I used that line in a piece not too long prior. He tells me there is an update with the gal that was considered crazy, that he lamented about. I didn't get the full update, but it was interesting what he had to say.

  They run in to each other on the street; he said they hug and he wasn't going to lie, she did look great. This is the crazy with her. She said she'll leave her husband to give "us" another chance. My friend's text I felt for I had questioned my own actions and thoughts even, from the past. He said she needs to divorce for herself, not for him and he doesn't want to be involved in breaking them up. I do wonder if she did divorce out of the marriage that apparently isn't a blissful one if she's ready to drop her husband for an ex bf; if he would take her up on giving their "us" another chance. She would have to prove she's changed and her issues and his issues get along well, to survive for “Part II”. In the mean time, he still has hopes to find true love with I guess a "Unicorn". I hope he finds his too.

  I will admit something about not wanting to be any number on the “Hot and Crazy Scale” when it comes to my desirability as someone to get to know for "more". August 25th with the New Moon, I'm submitting my application to be ordained as a Minister for the Universal Life Church. The title of "Reverend Mother" appeals a lot more right now than being a "Mrs." to any new guy.

   I know it may seem shallow too, but the idea of wearing a clergy shirt is making up for not getting to wear the wedding gown because I found true love before which I did not other than for my children I have to suppress because their fathers have issues with me. What's funny, I'll have the ability to legally marry those that have found each other which is the sweetness of bittersweet (past tense the bitter is getting kicked out of my life, hence release. Me happy *smiles* ). I can still date, it's an honorary title, but I think the clergy shirt would throw guys off and make ranking me a trip. Perhaps even “sinful” that makes it more appealing. We are creatures of folly.

  There's something about wanting what is or seems forbidden. I wouldn't be in "uniform" all the time when out an about doing my studying and reflecting for the sake of the causes that are close to my heart, and being spiritual in my connection to what created me. Actually I think my spirituality would make bachelors think I'm really a wacky dame, being that it is not conventional. If I was a Christian, Muslim or Jewish, there are specialty dating sites for those faiths. I'm not any of these, and add that I'm covering my skin with color inked in; again it would throw guys off and associate getting turned on by a “Nun” type, but in tailored men’s clothing.

  In front of them would be a woman that cleans up well with make-up and hair styled, and my ink is part of her "looks", but she's wearing a shirt a Priest would wear and to those in the service, I'd be the equivalent to "Chaps". I'm not a Nun. I'm not preaching religion. I keep myself in check with getting dogmatic and fanatical, but being single even with children that I consider a plus, some bachelors, even with children, don't want to date single moms, let alone one that is an unorthodox minister. I'm taking comfort in the idea of being a celibate workaholic; and that's crazy! Or is it?

It’s safety, my sanctuary while I continue on the next phase of healing.

   I have Norplant implanted in my arm; that means potentially if a guy can prove he is STD free and is going to chill with me for a while, he can go sans condom which men whine about wanting to be able to do. It could be seen as cruel irony because like my friend, I want to know what I have with a man is true love before he gets to know what's under the clergy shirt and below my belt buckle. This means chances of a guy hitting a home run with me have lowered tremendously. This is funny in a trippy way because I used to be so easy and even when my feelings were not reciprocated, I still spread my legs and the worst of them that I was blinded by a desperate love, didn't even make the effort to give me a bed to at least use me to get off on. Good work Furbs, and pendejo me for letting myself; but at least I learned.

  I feel a bit influenced by St. Catherine of Alexandria that would not marry any man, even when commanded, because in her mind and heart she married Jesus Christ and no man can compare to him. She was martyred for this. Jesus is cool, but I don't want to be married to him, even if spiritually. He's my friend and comfort yes, but I don't want to be his old lady; besides he married his true love, which believing he didn't die a virgin makes me crazy there too.

  Nope, I'd be the wild card that should be ranking high on the crazy side, but my psychologist and psychiatrist that help me deal with my PTSD besides Bipolar I Disorder, they deemed me sane and stable, and not a threat to anyone, especially my children and this put in writing.

   I'm a pacifist for the most part, but in defense of myself or others, instinct to fight kicks in, otherwise I don't want to continue the negativity. The best thing I could do with someone that I don't want any more drama with, is to walk away and do my best to learn the lesson that came with the experience. That’s the ideal because those that don’t like me tend to show it and it sure does keep things interesting.

  Going extreme with keying cars, slashing tires and these were left out: shoving a potato in to the tailpipe (trip to the mechanic), pouring lots of Coca-Cola over the paint (it dissolves it, imagine what it does to your tooth enamel and you could use that pop to clean your toilet. No bullshit.), using etching liquid on the windows (windows need to be replaced, cannot be washed off or buffed out), putting bologna on the roof (bird shit to scrape off carefully without damaging the paint); it's tempting but not my style. Where I learned this and why am I sharing?

  I’ll say it simply with, just because I know, doesn’t mean I can do it as a way to get some petty vindication and be neutral after like I did no wrong. I actually was in a position to accept an offer made I declined because that felt fucked up and they caused me no harm, so why should I be done a favor for what was not necessary?

   I rather save trading favors for when I really could use them. I told my psychologist about declining, they asked if that sounded like closure. I suppose in part it was but I am skeptical at times. In a recent session, my doc asks me if I love a person. I summed up what is a cause, but not an actual direct answer of “yes” or “no”. My doc wants to explore this due to all the energy and effort, being passionate with my art, and… For moments of pessimism, with moments of optimistic ‘Can Do!’ I am still a romantic that lives like a poetic clown from France. I do have a face for miming. I used to be trapped in a box. That was the song that put No Doubt on the map. I’m being silly now. Too bad it’s hard to tell.

   My style at being a pain in a guy's ass is immortalizing their bullshit, besides my own since it takes two to tango, through my writing and posting it online -- and self publishing on paper -- with a Facebook flyer passed around bringing attention to it all when I’m ready to focus on advertising*smiles* And my friends live in many areas on maps. It comes with word of mouth recommendation. That’s my way to subdue the upsets of angst.

 

Now that's crazy!

 

  Actually to show I've grown up some more, I deleted my Rockabilly Worldwide account because I got testy and blogged articles much like this (not really, this one takes longer to read); but also proposed questions in the "Single Mingle" group that everyone that is part of the group, gets a notification to go look at what was posted. Some questions got good responses, but my words weren't always what I want to be remembered for. Actually I think my excess of words and what they were describing, perhaps communicating; is what made Spooner leave the website.

  He could have left for other reasons, but I do feel I made him feel uncomfortable and it was annoying because I can be. I had a dream about it and explored that anxiety of him saying this about me and adding “psycho”. This was my dream; he hasn’t said a word to me since October 2010, though for a moment it seemed he was listening to what I had to say with Pauley’s in 2012.

  It's a small World Wide Web, I recognized his picture in that “Single Mingle” group since I didn't have the option of a filter search; I had to go through all the pages of listed members in the group. I made contact so he would be aware that I was there too and I didn't chase him. It was chance, but I did think that it was serendipity at it again. Psychobilly Fever “Part I” went offline, a friend recommended an alternative and I didn't look for him, I felt it was done, my limerence I mean and I agreed with my intentions that things were fine, it was time I remember what gracious looks like. Seeing him there too, I did hang my head and sighed.

  Anyway, I ranted and raved, and though it had an audience that approved, I wanted a clean slate, so the 300+ pictures I had in my gallery that I could only upload 10 pics a day, so it took me a while; plus their comments, all gone. I plan to reopen an account under a new handle that still plays off "Ponygirl" as in a girl version of Ponyboy Curtis from The Outsiders, not because that's a fetish character for role playing. Another sad and cruel irony for the guys that hoped I'd tie back on my blue ribbons.

  I know what a "Ponygirl" is in B&D because I was introduced to the scene once I was no longer jail bait, back 18 yrs ago. The only "role playing" I do now is in my books with "Mikey" that does buy "Gina" from the books a corsette so she can look like a dominatrix since he had a curious fantasy of getting tied up and blindfolded, and being “kinky”.

SPOILER ALERT: He wants to try S&M and "I" couldn't do it, I couldn't bring myself to hit him so he can see if he derives pleasure from physical pain.

   My reasoning is that it would potentially create a monster who's issues would amplify and the fix of pain that is sexual, confuses; and it's begging for a dysfunctional relationship where he is submissive asking "me" to dominate him in the bedroom and perhaps outside of it. There would be no equal standing in "our" relationship. In real and fictional life, I don't get off on pain, receiving it or inflicting it, but a bit of a rusty Dom "Gina" does play and I tried balancing it out with humor that was slapstick, and that wasn't a pun. Y'know, that reminds me of Spooner asking if I had any pictures of me dressed up from back then, when I opened up to him about my funky past, back before I imploded. No pictures or clothing from that era survived. It’s better that way.

  But yes, I took down everything by canceling my membership. Google searches still show hints I used to have a profile at RW, but even with cache, not much would be found. What I seen in the search results was just references to chapter excerpts I have tweaked and reposted on the official Pauley's website where it belongs.

  Y'know maybe wearing a clergy shirt would not confuse or excite, for a different fetish, but rather keep males focused on that I wear it to be seen as someone that can listen to them and isn't shy about dealing with issues and I can be candid, besides have a colorful way with words. I would have to remind them I don't deal out penances if they want to talk about what conflicts them. If they want to confess and seek forgiveness, they have a direct line with the Universe the word intention God also represents. I could listen and make suggestions, but becoming ordained does not give me the sanction to claim I can absolve anyone of their sins, though I could do Last Rites and baptize.

  Usually after guys that checked me out and got interested, get over the curiosity of being sexual with me, they speak with me and it's conversations of insight. Sometimes men do speak about the sexual with me, but it is not sexual. I've listened to them open up about their Erectile Dysfunction. I’ve listened to them ask how to reassure their wives they see as the beautiful women they married and still would like to make love with, but the wives are self-conscience about their bodies that changed after childbirth. Their wives are focused they got stretch marks, a tummy pooch, breasts not as perky or swelled with milk making them a bra cup size bigger and their tatas deflated like my own. Or their wives gained weight, or the natural life cycle happens and so does cellulite. These men wanted to understand how to convince their girls that they are not imperfect. If that’s not love a husband or boyfriend feels, then enlighten me because these dudes took to the opportunity to have a female perspective respond to their questions.

  I've also listened to a young man that was degraded by their mother when she flew off the handle for finding he downloaded pictures of "Hot" chicks in bikinis. I was there to hear her screaming at him and then going on about his father's penis size like that had anything to do with this young man going through the early stages of physical urges and attractions. The little boy part of him was distraught because he thought something was wrong with him for being aroused. He knew about the "Birds and the Bees" but not about masturbation. Being he was my nephew, did I step in to explain it is a private act that is not evil, but natural as we leave adolescence and enter our adult lives.

  Part of my training I'm signing up for is peer counseling, then pursuing additional certification in psychology to include working with troubled youth, sex crime victims, service members and their dependents dealing as a family with PTS(D), recovering addicts and pretty much be a mental health advocate. Working with those dealing with depression, that are suicidal is something that really speaks to me, because I've listened to others on the edge and it reminds me of when I was.

I think St. Dymphna smiled when I decided that counseling is something I could do with proper training, because not only would I be trained to see what is subtle or said between the lines, I approached it as a patient that knows talk therapy works. My own psychologist smiled when I said I've been thinking of becoming a peer counselor again after folks kept turning to me for advice/insight with mental health; and remembered the 1st thing taught when my own school counselor signed me up for it back in 8th grade. Why he did, I'm not sure, other than perhaps he seen I was a basket case in the making, when I did rebel as a youth. Then I got my first 5150 that went well past 72hrs at age 13.

  I learned "You listen but do not tell someone what to do." If it makes for one less suicide in the world, yea.

(pause)

   My psychologist offered to loan me her old school text books and gave me a tip with the APA (American Psychological Association) to look up personality disorders since Pauley's has a cast of characters and they all represent someone dealing with particular issues. It was for the realism to relate with. She told me I'm dealing with my problems like I was a psychologist, so it was natural to want to think that way when I develop the characters. I practice making sense with the guise of a soap opera, so it's educational, insightful and entertaining all in one shot. Even my Optometrist got a kick out of my Pauley's efforts when he was checking my eyes and making conversation.

  I had told him I'm a writer and spend hours on my laptop without glasses, and don't really take breaks from looking at the screen, so my eyes ache, especially with the marathon composing sessions such as with this piece. He asks me what I'm writing and he asks me wonderful questions I was more than glad to have a shot to answer. He asked from who my target audience is and publishing, and then marketing. When he was saying with a smile "So it's practical entertainment; I like it." I was stoked that's it’s now 3 doctors that think I'm on to something.

  Speaking of marathon composing sessions, I should sum up and make it relevant. (I kept going. Walk away and go play or be responsible for a bit, eat, drink water, do your business in the bathroom, and then you can pick up where you left off. Also you may benefit to use eye drops since looking at the screen for hours dries your peepers.)

For y’all’s sake, to be continued…

Powered by Squarespace.

Copyright ©2018 By Rev. Mother L.G. Flores. All Rights Reserved.

Heaven Please Bless All That is "Pauley's...." and May No Harm Come To This Therapy In Motion, Adult After School Special, What Happens Cuando Nos Ponemos Las Pilas, Mark In Miles Stones, for This Dreamer and Music Maker Shake, Rattle n' Roll!

Amen.

"Siempre Fiel En Sangre y Lagrimas"