Bahamas! Bahamas! Deep Sea Tragedy! Cruise ship sinks! People drown! If they drown, then they’re dead and everybody reads about it for two seconds and no one gives a damn. Except for “thank god it wasn’t me.” And then it’s all over. Forget about it. Go! Go!

Libya fell today. Libya rose today. No one gives a damn except the politicians, large corporations, the oil and water titans and the erect military. When you’re dead you’re dead.

In her dark room Janice sat watching the tennis match between Nadal and Djokovic. She was switching between that and golf, at which Steve Stricker was making a mockery of the rest of the field. Janice collected June bugs when she was young. What made her think of June bugs? She doesn’t know. It just occurred to her. She used to collect them and put them in a cigar box with a lettuce leaf and closed the top to protect them. And in the morning they were all dead.

She met a dream man on the beach the week before and made a date with him for 8:30 that evening.
“Would you take my picture?” she asked a passerby. “I’m terribly happy.”
That night, after being stood up by her dream man, her root canal work failed and on Monday morning she had emergency dental surgery. Later that night, she fainted after taking two Tylenol and codeine.

Sunny Makepeace marches through the streets of Inwood with a determined step.  Why is she marching? The houses are still, the wind is blowing where it will. When the rebels march into Libya, why do they march?  Because. That’s why. Sunny is marching to Janice in her dark room. Because she just wants to see her.
There was a knock on Janice’s door. She put the TV on mute just as Djokovic aced Nadal. “Sunny! How did you get here?”
“The A train. Can I come in?”
“How did you know I’d be in?”
Janice unmuted the TV. The athletes were still grunting and groaning.
“Shit, you have a really big TV Janice. What make is it?”
“God, I miss my dream man.”
“I like the gold frame. I’m going to get one too.”
“What do you want, Sunny?”
“I’m going dancing. Want to come with me?”
“Do you think my dream man will be there? I miss him so.”
“No. I think he ditched you, Janice.”

Sunny was happy. She was dancing like she used to in the 1960s. Happy, happy. She danced her way through the night, first on Avenue C in the East Village, then in a Chelsea bar on 14th street. And Sunny stole the show. Everyone admired her. But most of all she admired herself. As she danced, there were two people she loved best in the whole world. One was Janice’s dream man and the other was. . . . . Janice. But she didn’t know it. All through that enchanted night, dancing with all kinds of people, she loved those two who were not there, and was happy with them.


About judyjablow123

In my youth I was a world class tournament golfer. I earned an MA in history at NYU, after which I knew I had had enough of academia. I have remained a student of history. I have a strongly personal - almost entirely negative- take on the contemporary pharmaceutical and mental health industries. That was the impetus for my Bluepolar blog, which will also include stuff on sports, history and anything else that strikes my interest.
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