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Regret is Not My Style, But

More than 35 years since the divorce, and no rancor, no sadness left.   The past is more like an Indie movie, colorful, a bit racy,  like something created by the director of Juno.  The characters delude themselves but escape into happier lives relatively unscathed after all.  

The only regret I hold is that S. kept my Fugs album.   He's a urologist, for God's sake, what he does he need with punk anarchist rock music?  On the other hand, I'm constantly singing the patches of lyrics I remember "Monday nothing/ Tuesday nothing/ Wednesday and Thursday nothing/ Friday and Saturday a little more nothing/ Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!"  Repeat in Spanish and in Yiddish, in a frenzy.  So cathartic! 

Well, okay, there are a couple of other things I might have wanted to keep (and now I do find myself feeling a twinge of sorrow).  The Eames chair, one of our few pieces of furniture, was 400 dollars the year we got married.  It's worth about 5000 dollars now.  I wonder if S. still owns it, or if he put it out on the sidewalk of Madison Avenue.

And the Persian figures.  The first engagement gift we received was a check for a couple of hundred dollars.  I went to an antique store on Second Avenue and bought a set of vases in the shape of people; lots of blue and cream, like some of the pieces you find in Amsterdam antique stores.   It was an impractical choice on my part, not the only one I've made.  The little store seemed magical, filled with objects once prized by Old World sailors.  And the objects seemed to hold genies, to make promises.

What did he tell his second wife about the implausible Persian figures?  

They were a little bit ugly.

I really miss that Fugs album, though.  Ginsberg's dead, Tuppy Kupferberg's dead (he's the Fug who jumped from the Brooklyn Bridge and lived).

Letting go of the Fugs would take a more spiritually advanced person than myself.   

9 Comment count
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My Ex still has my high

My Ex still has my high school year books and Bowie albums. He's a guy whose best friend on Myspace calls herself "Whore for Jesus". What was I thinking ... I want my records back!

You are witty and amazing.

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Maybe just ask him?

You need those records back.  (Or hire someone to break in?)

Ask him.  m 

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Nothing Dreaming

So, Marilyn, you like the Fugs, too? Especially the "Nothing Song." How can I resist sending you my poem, "Nothing Dreaming"?


Nothing Dreaming

"Monday nothing, Tuesday nothing, Wednesday a little more nothing." --Tuli Kupferberg

Tuli Kupferberg and I are dancing.
He is light-years ahead of me,
Maybe old as twenty.
I myself cannot be
Many moons past eight.

We aren't holding hands exactly,
Only our fingertips touch.
They are sticky. We've been noshing
Messy chunks of halvah,
Melting chocolate gelt.

Mr. Slowpoke, my uncle Phil,
Fresh from a stretch in eternity,
Roller-skates across the floor
On wheels of salted bagels.
"Kam mit tsores!" he calls to us,

And time, the way it does in dreams,
Whirls by, dreidel-like,
Revealing all its sides
To me.

I am...I am distracted by
Kaleidoscopic visions
And winks from my mind's eye.

Tuli, meanwhile, is spieling
His nada, his gornisht, his nothing.

I am turned around.

Cracked and scratched beyond repair,
One of my favorite 78s
Is skipping like mad past all the best parts,
Bucking the needle at every turn,
Knocking it out of the groove.


Take care.
Peggy Landsman

PS- This poem is online on Spindle.

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O My Goddess, I Love It!

You just made my day--

This is terrific.   And the dreidel reference tops it off!

Thanks for sending.  Rock on!  Marilyn 

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You're welcome.

What better thing can any of us hope to do than make someone's day! Thanks for letting me know.

And I should add that this poem is in my chapbook, To-wit To-woo.

Best, Peggy

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I'll look up the chapbook--

I like the title of your chapbook!

All cheers and rock on, Marilyn

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I've saved this to my red room.

Marilyn - wonderful entry. Peggy - I love your poem.

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Thanks, Ms. Evelyn, for the Ray of Sunshine!

I treasure your words as well!  Marilyn

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Glad to hear

Thanks to both of you, Evelyn and Marilyn. I'm glad you like my poem and that you'll look up my chapbook.We writers need readers. I'm happy to have discovered you!

Best, Peggy