Posted in Amanda Bernstein, Characters, Family, The Mother, Themes

Two Moms

Unofficially, I have two moms. Although their same-sex marriage is not recognized in the State of Florida it is recognized in the State of Confusion. I have two moms now, which are better than one, so suck on that, Sarah Palin.

Posted in Almost Dorothy, Amanda Bernstein, Characters, Culture Clash, Family, Politics, The Mother, Themes

Same Sex Marriage (at Arby’s) is a Civil Right

Today is the day. Mom and Amanda B. are getting hitched, that means married, or at least they’re both gonna wear dresses across the street from a Mosque and a Church. They invited Sarah Palin to host their wedding, but she said no, hell no. Since Amanda B. is a practicing Muslim and mom doesn’t practice anything, they’re gonna get married in three places for extra luck. I swear, a church, a mosque, and Arby’s. These establishments won’t let mom and Amanda B. do their thing inside, or officiate over their same-sex marriage, so mom and Amanda B. have decided to get married in their car in the parking lot of each place. For real. Bobo the Mutt, who is our favorite mutt, will be the decider and bless their unholy matrimony in his yellowing shag coat and stinky breath. See below.

Mom says they’re gonna do this cause they want to ‘refudiate’ (sic) lunatic claims that same-sex marriage is a sin because it isn’t, at least not in their Big Book. Mom and Amanda B. also want to show their support for the 1st Amendment, which Republicans, like that great dumb ass Sarah Palin , thumb their noses at if you’re not a Christian. Amanda B. is pissed cause Palin called on “Americans” to ‘pls refudiate’ the building of the Islamic Center near Ground Zero just like “Republican candidates have denounced plans for a large Muslim center proposed near” Murfreesboro, Tennessee just like the Tea Party “group took dogs and picket signs to Friday prayers at a mosque that is seeking to build a new worship center” in Temecula, California. (New York Times.)

Amanda B. says she wants to marry mom cause it’s her fundamental civil right as a human American, who happens to be a lesbian Muslim, just like it’s the fundamental right (1st Amendment) for worshipers of all faiths to worship wherever the hell they want to worship, Mufreesboro, Temecula, Ground Zero, Arbys, or KFC, without the express written consent of idiot politicians. If the Tea Party Republicans, like Sarah Palin, Newt Gingrich and the rest of the gang really, truly believe in America, then they should speak out in defense of all Americans who are being harassed by fascists who picket Mosques with dogs and signs that say their places of worship “are monuments to terrorism”.

Bobo the Mutt by Neil de la Flor
Posted in Almost Dorothy, Amanda Bernstein, Characters, Family, The Mother, Themes

Breaking News

Amanda Bernstein (remember the B is silent) and mom are getting hitched. They say they’re gonna be committed this time and I smiled big because I thought this meant they’d enrolled in an insane asylum for nuts. They just meant they’re gonna get married and exchange sandals. Bobo the Mutt wasn’t too excited about the news because Amanda B. has a cat named Cat (the c is silent) and Bobo the Mutt is allergic to cats named Cat with a silent c. They say I can be the best man and the best woman at their wedding. They say they promise not to fight like WWF wrestlers this time, which makes me sad because those are the moments when their at their best. I love them at their best. They say it won’t be like before and I secretly hope it won’t because I hope it’s worse. I do. Because if it’s better than before then your presently surprised. They say things have changed and America has changed and their love has changed and the whole world is more accepting of this change, except for Iran, of course, where they plan to stone a woman to death, or Long Island where a man killed a baby boy because he thought the child acted like a sissy. Things have changed–at least inside our nest of nuts. I did suggest that they add bullet proof vests to their bridal registry and give me the keys to their gun rack.

Prop 8 Ruling FINAL

Posted in Almost Dorothy, Characters, Family, Politics, The Mother, Themes

Dear Cyndi Lauper

“We’ve had enough of the dumbing down of America,” Cyndi said as the audience yelped for the 80s instead of the Memphis Blues. Mom clapped like a bat flapping for her life. That woman’s got your back, Cyndi. My mom says you got a sick sense of humor. She also thinks your voice is amazing, raw yet formed like a songbird made of glass and big balls. I have no idea what she means by that but she cried when she heard you sing “Time After Time” even after the audience ruined the show by screaming “Sing ‘True Colors'” every time there was a break between your Memphis Blues songs. She clapped when you gave them assholes the finger. She  clapped when you snatched the iPhone from a fan and asked him not to film the show cause then everyone will stop coming if they can see it on youtube.  She clapped when you stepped down into the audience to show us all that you’re equal to all of us even though we have an obsession with celebrity. Cyndi, or Sister Cyn, you’re a star.

FYI: Mom wants to apologize for the asshole fans in the audience who are stuck in the 80s and have lost the ability to ride the magic carpet, the arc of your performance. In fact, she told one of them screamers to shut the fuck up and the screamer screamed at mom to shut the fuck up and mom screamed back at the screamer “you look like a fucking gorilla” and then the screamer didn’t know what else to say so the screamer shut the fuck up. Finally.

In the end, mom got goosebumps cause your voice is stronger now than it was then. The blues suits you like a suit suits a man or woman who wears a suit. Your voice is so strong that it almost made mom remember where she comes from. Art school, perhaps. Good luck with the rest of your tour and your new album, Memphis Blues. And, please come back to Miami, despite the fans. Mom said she’ll be-bop the fuck out of them next time they get rude and stupid and stuck in an 80s rabbit hole. Viva Cyndi. Listen to Cyn’s interview on GMA here.

P.S. Mom says she loves you cause she can see your true colors hanging out. Translation: she loves your red hair.

Posted in Almost Dorothy, Politics, The Mother, Themes

Yellowstone Bear Attacks Kills Camper, Injures 2

Mom is sad because a man is dead. Killed by a black bear who was acting like a black bear. Mom is sad because the man was camping in the wilderness where black bears live. Mom is sad because now the authorities on black bears will kill the black bear who killed the camper who was camping in the wilderness. Mom is sad because of all the killing. Mom is sad because the black bear will be dead. Soon. Killed by the authorities who guard the wilderness. Mom is sad that the National Park Services will kill the wild black bear who killed the camper camping in the wilderness where wild black bears will live without their mother. Mom is sad because she wonders where all the campers will go when all the black bears are dead. Mom is sad because the man is dead. Not wounded or starving like the black bear may have been. Mom is sad because there are almost no more black bears left. Mom is sad because she knows what she knows about the dead and the cost of living among black bears that live like black bears for a living.Like humans live for a living. Hunting for food at the grocery store to eat when we are starving mad.

Wounded Bear by Neil de la Flor
Posted in Almost Dorothy, Characters, Family, The Mother, Themes

New Mexico: Camel

When mom said she lost her camel in the desert I thought she meant she lost a real camel–the kind of camel with one or two humps, or the kind she gets when she wears her pink Juicy Couture sweat pants to Publix.  I looked everywhere for her camel. Left. Right. I even looked in the boys and girls bathroom. Lifted a sewer cover and said hello, camel, hello. Mom drank a Cream Ale while I searched like a freak for her imaginary camel. Finally, mom got a bright idea. She started the VW and backed it up. She got out of the car and slammed the door shut. She bent over and found her camel where the car was parked–semi crushed and open lying face up next to a heavily used tissue. The box was empty except for a few specks of tobacco. Someone must have smoked every last cigarette then blew his or her nose. Look, mom said, a finger. It wasn’t a finger. It was a butt. (See right of “L” in  “CAMEL”.) It’s a butt, I said. My ass, she said. You are, I said. Under my breath of course. We got in the car and left.

Camel + Tissue by Neil de la Flor
Posted in Almost Dorothy, Characters, Family, Politics, The Mother, Themes

New Mexico: Capilia de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe

When mom and I were in New Mexico we visited Jesus Christ @ the Capilia de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe. The little church is located in the old town section of Albuquerque, which is pronounced Albuquerque. It wasn’t really Jesus in person, but a painting of the young Christ, stud like and gorgeous as he must have been in old Jerusalem. Mom said he looked hot. I told mom she’s nuts. Mom wrote him a note and left it for him. Just in case, she wrote. 555-759-2011. Collect calls gladly accepted, your Sexiness.

Jesus Christ by Neil de la Flor
Posted in Amanda Bernstein, Characters, Family, Squinny, The Mother, Themes

Free Falling

I want to glide down Biscayne Bay in my pink and yellow muumuu. I want to call the cops on the muumuu monster called mom. I want to suck the madness out of the Gulf. I want to fly without wings. Mine the world with mines.

The scene: 9AM. Mom’s false teeth on the kitchen counter. Her push up bra unclasped. No bottom. A frozen chicken pot pie melting in the sink as her lipstick melts on the window sill. Sunday. My photograph of Squinny torn into a hundred tiny pieces on the breakfast table.

Mom said she was upset or pissed off because I had disrespected her when I had sexual relations with that Puerto Rican-Peruvian-Sephardic boy. She said I’d go to hell and my panties would burn in hell. Said that my privates would burn in hell. Said that I’m whore and that I would burn and burn and burn till I understood what she was talking about. You dirty little whore, she said. Just like you, I said. Just like you.

Mom smacked the wind cause I’m too friggin’ fast. I ran to my room. Assessed the importance of things like my Hello Kitty purse, red red ruby slippers, the pink lava lamp. I left my underwear behind. I left the lava lamp and potted cactus behind. I left the whole world behind and Bobo the Mutt too. He was furious at me for leaving him with mom. He looked at me and cried. He said don’t go, don’t leave me, in the language of dogs.

The world is not big enough anymore. I packed my mirror to remind me of who I was and where I’ve been. I scooped up all the pieces of Squinny and sealed her up in a pink envelope. I swiped a pack of mom’s cigarettes from the kitchen counter and then hauled ass out of that house as she hauled ass after me. I jump into the arms of Amanda B., who had waited for me in her getaway station wagon ever since she left mom and me. Hanging. Just in case I needed a lift away from Mars.

Posted in Almost Dorothy, Characters, Family, The Mother, Themes

The Loss of Innocence

1. I think I just got laid. I didn’t tell mom but she knew because she asked why my neck had been attacked by a vampire goat. What a sloppy mess, she said. Get a grip next time. My date with the Puerto Rican-Peruvian-Sephardic boy went well. I love his red Camaro. I love the way he drives with his eyes closed and the windows open. We listened to a remix. Messed with the stick shift. Kissed in reverse.

2. When I got home, mom clicked the lamp light on and off like Glen Close did in Fatal Attraction. As a result, I hid my rabbit and puppy. As a result, mom started back at church the next day.

3. Mom prayed for the coming of the lambs. I don’t know why the lambs are coming, but mom said it has something to do with what happened last night. On my date. In the front or back seat. On the bank of Biscayne Bay. In front of fish. In the parking lot of Bank of America. On the ATM. Thank god you can’t get pregnant, mom said. I don’t think two boys can conceive yet. I was really pissed because I’ve always wanted a baby goat.

4. A stranger came running up to me. She or he couldn’t speak. Said something didn’t go so well on Biscayne Bay. Said I should run toward the firelight. Said I would regret the scene. I thought he or she was my BFF Squinny back from the dead trying to tell me something intelligent. Trying to tell me to stop playing with the girls or boys. Trying to make me go, run, forget the tongue and lips and what they do to the flesh.

5. If no one ever marries me, the stranger said, I’ll marry the sky.

6. I married the sky when he touched me up here and down there. I was ok with that so long as he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop.

7. Mom caused a stir at church. She wore the black mini skirt without underwear just like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct except mom looks nothing like Sharon Stone down there or up here. She wore a blond wig. She wore a white rose corsage and took a Flintstone vitamin before she left. The boys in the choir stopped singing. The priest stopped preaching. Jesus just stared at mom speechless. The janitor wanted to make out with her but she wasn’t into making out with boys on pews. She touched herself here and there as a result of the rapture. She was enraptured. Enraged. On her knees praying to God for the return of Amanda B. and my virginity. I prayed for mom’s lucky stars. Peace on Earth.

Sushi by Gaby Velasquez

8. I met a new boy at church. The boy wore a white dress with puffy yellow sleeves. Mom wore flats. I wore my Almost Dorothy dress and red pumps. I brought the boy home even though he wore a ridiculous hat. Mom said that he isn’t a boy and would never be one. Not even in that getup. The boy told mom that mom isn’t a girl no matter how much make up she put on or how how short her skirt got. Mom gave the boy the finger. The boy in the girl’s dress gave mom the finger. I told them both to calm down and that I don’t care what’s between their legs, so long as they make me smile. Both of them looked at me and lifted their skirts. I saw Sharon Stone’s face and a plate of sushi. It made me laugh, the vacuum of space between their ears. I laughed at what makes a real boy and a real girl real real. When faced with a choice, I chose flight.

Two Dolls by Gaby Velasquez

Posted in Almost Dorothy, Amanda Bernstein, Characters, Family, The Mother, Themes

The Screaming

Today was a bad day. Mom cried all day and the baby birds trapped inside the attic. I’m sad because they won’t listen to me. The termite man will tent the house tomorrow. I climbed ladders for them. Cooed them toward nowhere safe.

Today was a bad day and the thunderstorms couldn’t hush the howling of mom or the wind or that thing that makes moms and the wind howl like mad, mad wolves. Or hatters. Howlers that not even the wind can muffle or silence.

Mom was screaming. Is screaming. Will never stop screaming for Amanda B. She will count on her lungs to feed her today. She hasn’t eaten in days. Hasn’t peed in the toilet for days. Hasn’t used my name in days. I am screaming.

In a moment it will begin to rain (again) and the Puerto Rican boy next door wants to take me on a date. Says he has something to show me. Says I am pretty in the light and dark. I wonder if  he knows I’m a boy just like him. I wonder if he cares. I wonder if mom will care. If I take his offer and fly with him in his red Camaro, will I repeat mom? Will I die? Collapse into his arms? Vanish from the face of the unknown universe?

I wonder if I’m old enough to fly. I feel like I have the right to clear skyscrapers with my bare virgin hands. I have the right to examine the nature of boys in the backseat of sports cars on the birth of Biscayne Bay. I promised mom I’d be safe and she nodded yes and uh huh and then screamed uncontrollably for B. She nodded toward the door. Nodded toward the place where Amanda B. fled in her butch attire and flats. She nodded toward the exit where all stories begin and end. For mom and Amanda B. For mom and me. In a few days. More.