Posted in Almost Dorothy

14 things I learned this year

Tomb Has a Heart | Photo by Neil de la Flor
Every Tomb Has a Heart | Photo by
Neil de la Flor

Mozart is not a form of art. Mozart creates art out of music which
are squiggles and lines that punctuate the night as ma conjures up
the songs of stars while eating potato chips. In bed.

2. Love is a sin. Sex is a
gift from God.

Sometimes Mozart wears a wig as a boy and sometimes I wear a wig as

4. The magic
flute isn’t a ride at Disney World but every ride is a form of

5. Never say
bad things. Never have a sense of humor. Never use incense to cast
out ghosts and ghouls unless you’re a psychic vampire. Or naked. In
the backyard. Beneath the full moon and the twinkling

Psychic vampires don’t exist except as tools to dehumanize the
humans who try to heal the human wounds of the world through any
and every means necessary, even through acrobatics and mind
melding, as the real vampires of the world play a game of dice as a
tool to reveal the two sides of the wound. In your room.

7. The devil on your back is
there for a reason.

8. Every tomb had a heart and every
heart has a wound.

9. Photographs are faster than the
speed of kissing.

10. I have an obsessive personality
disorder activated by karma and guilt, kitsch and chaos.

11. I avoid electrical socks
and rush hour traffic.

12. Trauma can be

There are no secrets, just blindfolds that lead us to secret

Humans cry for positive things to happen that have already

A few more things I
learned but they’re not so important

15. I joined a cult, not a culture

16. The
coolest person in the world sleeps in my bed and barks.

17. We are bound by our silly
nature—not by Ganesha or Shiva, God or some Divine Diva, astral
projections or numerological aspirations—no matter how hard we

Sometimes the “Smallest of Things” are bigger than the “Biggest of

19. Even if
we die nameless, we always live in shame unless we laugh at our
slips and falls.

I am the two sides of the wound.

21. I may or may not be

Posted in Almost Dorothy

Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings in C Major, Op. 48

All Saints Episcopal Church

Last night ma and I went to see Seraphic Fire at the All Saints Episcopal Church off Las Olas in Fort Lauderdale. Ma wanted to go cause she thought there would be saints and fire. There was no fire, no smoke, and the only saint she recognized was the one that slides down chimneys like an old pervert. There are no chimneys in Florida, ma said. I’m not sure how this old perv breaks into houses without getting arrested. No response. Ma drank the holy water during intermission. There was no intermission.

We sat and watched a firebrand orchestra from the church balcony. Last row. Ma said she would jump. I encouraged her. No luck. Instead ma fidgeted and chewed gum. Then she stuck her gum beneath the seat and scrawled profanities on the podium next to her. God is a woman!, she wrote. And so am I, more or less! Meanwhile the orchestra played string instruments and fiddled away to lullabies composed by some foreign gay guys named Tchaikovsky (Serenade for Strings in C Major, Op. 48), Mendelssohn (String Symphony No. 8 in D Major),and Mozart (Divertimento in D Major, K. 136). I asked ma which was her favorite part of the performance and ma said she loved the ending. You mean Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Srings in C Major, I asked. No, she said. When we left.