No Use Crying over Spilt Ketchup.

No Use Crying over Spilt Ketchup.

I guess I can’t stay mad at Ketchup. I would wonder how he got away with everything. The infidelity. The lying. The drugs. The car accidents. I thought that maybe we all saw something of our wayward selves in him. I certainly saw him as a Scapegoat. I guess it’s because I know what that is like: to be a Scapegoat. And he mirrored people. It’s amusing, actually. You have to think: con artists have their work cut out for them. They have to emulate and mirror people. Imagine having to keep up with MY weirdness! And only to have it fall flat every time that I saw through it. Which was most times. Scorpios cannot fool Pisceans. It’s a rule.

I have to thank him for showing me who my true friends are. Andrew was only ever a self-entitled enabler. Mike was a psychotic proto-Fascist. Rafael was a manipulative creep. Daniel was a zoned out pushover. The Paradas, Jonathan excluded, were one narcissistic ego more stupid than the sum of its parts. The feminists were only ever just that: Alanna’s road to Hell was paved with their intentions. And it definitely says something when the only friend you have to go to is Anthony Fucking Riccio.

I could write an entire Folio just trying to explain to each of them the virtues of Loyalty, Chivalry, Trust, Mutual Respect, and Genuine Authority. I have enough satirical material, inspired by sheer SHOCK, to write each of them into my Tragicomic Work a dozenfold. And it’s all ready begun. My first play is complete. Two more near completion, with an other on its way. You can all call me Octomom.

Who taught me this if not Alanna herself? Did she not supply the lighter fluid for burning these bridges? Did she not sever every tie, academic and interpersonal, in a manner that mirrored mine at every turn?

Why bother to explain sexual ethics to Saul? Was Ketchup ever my superior? She only ever used him. It is not arrogant of me to presume that she would have used me in his place. It is much rather arrogant of HIM to presume that she would NEVER use me, but that she was bound to use him in my place. Sure: I have turned the tables and presumed with just as much formal ARROGANCE that she would never use HIM in MY place, but that she would have used ME in HIS. The arrogance seems doubled by the fact that it contradicts our history. But how objective IS this history? History is simply HER story, filtered THROUGH him. Would she have ever had REASON to lie to me? Would I have deserved it? I was the pliant one. And he knows who is truly in charge. The Dominant serves the Submissive. As is the case in Christianity, so it is in Sexuality.

Must I convey her virtues to Andrew? To Anthony? The former would regard her only as a force of autonomous will, dispossessed of bitchiness at the moment that his own will approves of her. The latter would see her as no more than an uncontrollable object made to serve a role that she fails to live up to by the very nature of her design. It’s alarming to consider which is the Virgo and which is the Aries. This much alone is true: neither of them can see her as BOTH will AND role, and much less will they regard her as greater than the sum of those (and other) parts.

She is my Twin Flame. In her brief time on this planet she taught me an entire Half of Virtue that had been systematically repressed by false friends. In them I saw my repressed Life, a Life that they themselves stole from me, and I accommodated them in place of myself.

They deserve her wrath.

I guess that Scorpio does its work even when it imagines itself to be Master of its Own Destiny. Satan all ways loses in the end. Kali yields to the new Golden Age. And they all know it. Even though as time accelerates forgetfulness is aggravated.

At long last: I am Happy. My family life is at peace. My music career is a fish taking flight. And my writing is stellar. I even got my sex drive back.

Life is Good. And to live a better one is the best revenge.

If I’ve not mentioned you, consider yourself blessed.

Dm.A.A.