The lost tape; Electra’s dictionary, film noir (jmmuse)The newly found Dr. Rothschild Tape

 

‘The ladies on the bus all gossiped. They worked at the homes of the folks where the bus stopped at. The bus stop on the street with the yellow house and the dog that always bit me and chewed up my toys as my ‘father’ said, “good dog!” would stop at the house next door. Anna-Marie lived on the corner, the Poland’s next door; Mimi, Marc and David— and the bus stopped right at the very spot the Poland’s left their trash cans ….one day I kicked a can but didn’t realize till it flew up in the air that —it had remnants of cheap beer….till it emptied upon me….i stank of it after and had to vomit…. men covered in green tattoos always stepped off the bus….one man I saw from mommy’s window every day….a damp cigar hanging always from his loose lips….but this day ….i got on with Annie. I trusted her. She was different from ….Mattie….who said things she thought I was too young to understand, as if I were even deaf….those ladies worked as maids on the blocks by where we lived ….pastel painted Miami homes….i got on the bus with Annie. She took my hand, we took seats behind the driver on the left…. ‘is that the little princess of the cats? She got no place now, pass for white anyhow with that creamy skin….pass for white, but she ain’t nothing but a mulatto and will never belong anywhere—wrong side of the blanket, too bad as that king didn’t do nothing for us folk, we still serving the master and she jus bastard pass for white trash….” 

but what did it mean? 

Why did she hate me? 

How did she know me….know who I was ….when nobody at home ever even saw me ….or knew I was even there ….i was invisible ….after he never ….came to see me again.’

Awakenings

my mind is deep in the thick of morass but I do sleep —the unconscious sleep you wake up from not knowing how long you’ve been gone 

I sit up and Jörn walks over. He pulls my face up by the chin. He holds his phone. He looks at me and pulls the hair back from my forehead. He holds my head by the chin and looks at his phone,

“clever ….” 

He smiles,

“you inherited his exact shaped face and hairline. Heart shaped. Even the shape of your skull is like his. The long face. The widows peak. You have the arch of his brows ….your mother was clever.”

JM chronicles Film noir /Electra’s dictionary:the flood of memories in regressive therapy

Those things that come to you when the mind is like a giant volcano full of mad heat and chaotic chemistry ….i suddenly remembered what it was but not just the insult it was more than that 

Jörn is like a proud giant stallion when he fucks, like a flying Pegasus ninja or dragon, like ….a Viking and it was this sudden image that came to me because it was the thought of the shield 

I saw it from my dream memory as ….it was happening and the sun flashing on the metal made me see —the memory of the medallion….

….you see? It was the motion …. I don’t know why it changed from Jörn to him but —it was the position and the memory of the belt as it hit me as a child —how the buckle hit my spine at the neck ….he said it! And it was about my true father because….He told me he turned him in and what he’d done….

Electra’s dictionary JM chronicles/Back at the Barn;sexual healing

Electra—How is it that I am able to think so much clearer now….i had not expected to feel this; I feel different….much different….I feel alive again ….and the world less terrible somehow….it is not just knowing that I am lusted for and desirable, that is part of it I suppose but no, it is the act itself of getting lost in someone else; their energy…. their heat….their smell, their savage rhythm….all focused on me….but utterly caught up in them ….and so sore now, can hardly walk, three times in one night, I don’t need a work out for sure but perhaps sleep ….

I think this has opened a memory in me….a past life memory but something else —something like I remember now what it was that I have been blocking….it came to me during intercourse as he was trying something different with me I’d not ever done and it was because of the act itself that the memory just came to me

….I know what it is now ….but I must not ever say it aloud —Jörn must never know

I must talk to Gerald, I think 

Electra; code for hound me

Hide in the bathroom to write. Clear my thoughts, Electra—and how to incorporate this ….altered experience I’ve had….Some things you don’t need a map for —I mean ….

—or even a legend key.i am blown away…. I must confess…. And a clear moment to think. Who needs to talk, who even needs words, I forgot how good it feels. I feel strangely so wildly alive. That was amazing 

he’ll do for a hound

Electra’s dictionary & film noir; a shift in Celf

 

Electra….Sometimes it is easier to settle for what is there 

I have just a moment to write —I have given in 

as truth and fiction overlap in symbols and meanings as dictionary book of days ….Devine comedy of the philosophical artist as told through legends as

the love letter you leave behind ….

   Yes I do play hostess.Yes. Because should I be stranded in the mountains, I can be Jörn’s doll, so what, or anyone's….so many keep showing up like a laundry list of stalkers so, who do I pick? I’m not really there anymore….i don’t care and no longer feel anything so I can just watch them as they drool over me; it’s entertaining and I could use that—and I could certainly use a faithful dumb hound, which he’ll be, if I play my part just like a dumb doll….i think of my previous marriages. All sentences. Prisons….i can play whore like any queen and enjoy my hound

…..

More later as I hear the shrill voice of mama!!! calling for me…. Leek soup?

gud hjälpe mig

Electra’s dictionary & film noir/Driving back to the Barn House;hosting a fugue of sound and mind

 

….so 

  We were last at Latitude 44 Bistro —weren’t we? Talking to Jörn …. 

well, I don’t know what happened….

    Sometimes …. well, so long ago now …. there was this thing that happened to me 

as a child. It —would ….just suddenly come upon me. It’s shameful. To speak of. Like, it’s crazy. But—as a child I’d fall into a trance. I’d feel it happen. I could not move. I was frozen. I just was ….stunned.

Later when I studied for my psychology degree —I read the label for what they call this but—I’d rather not say. Anyway. It seems to be that the event that first triggered this as a child all surrounded this big secret I grew up living 

but it was the cruelty and violence and actual inflicted harm to me by that psycho dad with his belts. He insulted me too. Called me filthy names. He made me wish I never lived nor ever breathed. He made me want to die. And it was because of something I am still trying to remember ….it was about my real dad.and it seemed to be too terrible for me to believe that I just went blank; like white out; I couldn’t move ….i was literally catatonic. I tried later to snap out of it but it seemed something kept me from talking. And the family freaked out. They didn’t know how to get me back 

I learned to outgrow it. But this was something that later happened over and over. A trance I couldn’t shake. Well….as a scholar I understand how this could happen to a child. Intellectually, I know what was the matter. The umbrella term is “dissociative disorder”

but

  I know why I had to. So their dumb DSMV book isn’t worth the label on me. I needed that to survive. It was not wrong. I found how to escape myself. I found the cell inside. I found the Celf. So it’s just a Darwin thing

But sometimes it still happens inconveniently 

And I must have blanked

 ….and when next I open my eyes it is to the view from within the interior of Jörn’s Volvo as he slows to the entrance to ….the old Barn House 

I sit up fast, bolt upright and rub my eyes behind my glasses as if to rub out a dream ….but now, he is pulling down the drive to the two story barn house with the two story picture window and a glimpse of Jörn’s white Steinway grand piano that I swear I can almost hear 

I turn my head slowly to look at him,

“what the fuck am I doing here?” 

But then as we reach the front of the house, I see Josef! stepping out the front door! and ….Elsa too…. 

I sigh heavily because I sense a plot —and that marriage contract we did actually go through with but….until this moment assumed it was in name only and they all got from me what they wanted ….

“What’s going on?” I keep looking from Josef through the car windows and then back to Jörn’s profile —as he is clenching his jaw 

“Just—don’t get how you get,” he looks at me in that appealing way he usually reserves for lady operatic ‘Mama’ 

“What does that mean?”

And now Josef (have we forgotten that I outed him as the Interpol director?) is reaching to open my door! 

But no, I want an explanation first, not another ambush 

I realize Jörn has not released the lock on the door. 

I realize this is for me. 

So I look at him and wait. 

I raise my eye brows to gently prompt him with forthcoming intel asap 

“Papa is retiring,” Jörn says 

Three words. Succinct. They say more. 

No, his eyes say more 

It’s like slow mo—I start to notice there are quite a lot of cars parked by the house. And also note the strong constitution of Swedes as Elsa stands outside in —an evening gown; aka, a fancy and expensive garment meant for hosting or going to ….

I look at Jörn again from that alarming image 

He says,

“By the way, you passed out—but, it saved time because ….”

“Let me guess, am I going to a party?”

“No duva —you are hosting one.”