Painting by Gardner Leaver made with a paint gun.
It’s snowing, and my mistakes are beautiful, no two alike. When I was a kid they called it snow, the nothing on TV that vibrated. I was talking with a friend who is 53, and I realized in a sharp and annoying way that when I was 53 I would not have allowed myself to imagine the mind of a person who was 78. What must they be thinking as they stand on a crumbling precipice overlooking the abyss? What must it feel like, the nothing that vibrates? I still cannot imagine it, living on the border of kindness and wildlife. It’s some kind of cruelty to oneself to imagine you know where you stand in the eyes of other people. That’s all aging really is. No two mistakes alike. It’s rare a dream doesn’t melt. Emotions too, you can see them in the snow, following the trail of a deer, no hat or gloves. The trees are beautiful, outlined in the shapes of friends. That’s something I haven’t seen before. Gardner used to say, speaking of the spatters and drips in his paintings, “Mistakes are the art.”
Today for example,
I was wearing a ski hat pulled down to my sun glasses. The hat gives me a pinhead look, especially when worn, as it was today, with a tattered down coat that has shoulder pads out to the 1980s. There is this tiny head on top of an enormous, ragged sleeping bag of a coat, tied at the waist with a sash from a posh shop in Chelsea no one remembers but me. Today I was offered free pastries from a bakery closing for the day. I like free food. The universe sees the coat and throws me a bone.
Every day Richard helps me. There’s something romantic about being unable to get out of your own way. You’re soft and vulnerable, and people can see it. Richard is reading a book about fakes. He likes being confused about whether something can be said to be a genuine anything. This is a question Warhol played with well. The best thoughts are love affairs you can dip in and out of.
At the risk of biting the hand that feeds me, the headline In the New York Times piece about Richard and me getting married, a piece that is otherwise loving and tender, says I have "softened" my view of marriage, suggesting my feminism has lost its erection. I would like everyone to know my feminism remains rock hard.
In related news, I was recently up for a job, and I was asked to fill out a questionnaire, and one of the questions was about my sex identity, and there was an option to identify that for yourself, and I wrote out a sex fantasy because I thought when they asked what my sex identity was they wanted to know what made me come, and I said what I was wearing, and where I’d applied perfume, and I described the images going through my mind, and the bodies of the other people who were in the fantasy, and I said what I was hoping would happen with hands, mouths, and other body parts, and I got the job.
Some Leonard, “I’m Your Man.”
The music has a jaunty, Kurt Weil bounce that builds without laying on too much of the old-world schmaltz Leonard likes to play with. He’s alone on stage, no chorus or back-up singers. Just Leonard promising anything to turn you on. The file box of possibilities, itself, is the turn on.
He’ll wear a mask for you. He’ll let you strike him down in anger. He’ll go into the ring for you. He’ll explore every inch of you. He’ll have a baby with you. He’ll drive you like a car. He’ll let you drive him like a car. He’ll move off if you want to be alone. You name it.
Let’s get back to the “I’ll explore every inch of you.” He’s been with enough women to know this is the hook. He will make you feel he could drown in you. He’s drowning in something, and in sex it’s easy to think it’s you.
In 2008, when Leonard is seventy-three, he hits the road again to perform. He needs to reinvent his life and he’s broke. A woman has stolen all his money while he spent five years in a Buddhist monastery. When he plans the tour, he’s afraid of the reception he’ll find, although it turns out tons of people love him. He doesn’t know how this has happened. He doesn’t believe he has anything to say except this is the way an artist makes a life, by staying in the game. And he hopes to give pleasure.
On stage, he tells the audiences he’s grateful to perform for them. He feels honored. You think it’s authentic. He’s so sweet and also severe in his restraint. With Leonard, it’s all: take me. It’s all: what is it you want I can give you?
I’m Your Man
If you want a lover
I'll do anything you ask me to
And if you want another kind of love
I'll wear a mask for you
If you want a partner, take my hand, or
If you want to strike me down in anger
Here I stand
I'm your man
If you want a boxer
I will step into the ring for you
And if you want a doctor
I'll examine every inch of you
If you want a driver, climb inside
Or if you want to take me for a ride
You know you can
I'm your man
Ah, the moon's too bright
The chain's too tight
The beast won't go to sleep
I've been running through these promises to you
That I made and I could not keep
Ah, but a man never got a woman back
Not by begging on his knees
Or I'd crawl to you baby and I'd fall at your feet
And I'd howl at your beauty like a dog in heat
And I'd claw at your heart, and I'd tear at your sheet
I'd say please (please)
I'm your man
And if you've got to sleep a moment on the road
I will steer for you
And if you want to work the street alone
I'll disappear for you
If you want a father for your child
Or only want to walk with me a while across the sand
I'm your man
_________________________________________________
Yesterday, I spoke to a woman for the first time,
yet she was not a stranger. She was a subscriber, wondering if we would be a good a good fit to work together.
I loved listening to her speak about her life and the book she was writing. Maybe I have something to offer her, and maybe we will not continue. The unplanned, the gravitational pull, the unexpected, the sudden hand reaching out from behind a curtain—this is what I love about the stack, our accidental network.
To continue, new people have to take a turn at paid support. If you have been enjoying the writing and are curious to try out other benefits, please jump in. There is no paywall. There will never be a paywall.
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The next ZOOM conversation for PAID SUBSCRIBERS is on TAKING RISKS, JANUARY 25 from 3 to 4 EST.
RSVP: lauriestone@substack.com
At the December Zoom, Richard and I hosted a conversation on taking risks in writing. We divided the subject into risks with content and risks with form, and lots of people showed up. Everyone wanted to take more risks, however they imagined moving from point A to point B, and everyone's idea of risk was different.
It was such a rich topic, WE HAVE DECIDED to stage another version of it on SATURDAY, JANUARY 25 from 3 to 4 EST. You can sign up now, and I will send you a link a few days ahead of the event. Please RSVP: lauriestone@substack.com.
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Love this! "At the risk of biting the hand that feeds me, the headline In the New York Times piece about Richard and me getting married, a piece that is otherwise loving and tender, says I have "softened" my view of marriage, suggesting my feminism has lost its erection. I would like everyone to know my feminism remains rock hard."