[lit-ideas] Another Pleasant Valley Sunday

From: Mike Geary <jejunejesuit.geary2@xxxxxxxxx>
To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Date: Tue, 13 Apr 2010 05:16:57 -0500
OK, suppose you're male and 42, and bringing in let's say 20 mil, got a
goddamn palatial place in Westchester and a pad in the Village (that your
wife doesn't even know about, although she really does and doesn't care,
because she has one too that you don't know about).  You have 2 adorable and
very, very bright kids who are at -- where?    Oh, Christ, wherever the fuck
it is that rich kids get shuffled off to now, schools that will insure
they'll occupy the same positions  when they're 42. You should know the name
of the goddamn school, Jesus, what going on here?  Early onset?  Or is it
just too early in the goddamn morning and here you are awake and 42 years
old and  all you can think of at the moment is that thank God you have not
awakened as a cockroach -- now,  there's something to celebrate -- though
Sheila, your wife of 17 years, no doubt would disagree -- believing you did
long ago.  But on this particular morning you've not awakened beside your
wife, no, but  beside your hired your lover in the Village apartment -- her
name is, oh fuck, shit, Jesus Christ, come on now, you know this....Corrina!
yes,  Aha!  "Corinna!" you call out.  Corinna rises into a sitting position,
yawns, stretches, bends and  kisses you.  She wants to get paid.  $1,500.
"Is that all that our love means to you?"  you say -- jokingly, bur not as
sardonically.as one might expect.  It's like a part of  you really believed
it possible that this hooker wanted you, needed you, loved you --  that her
moans and groans and shouts were real passion for you.  Ah but it was all
bought and paid for.-- unless, unless she really was attracted to
you....unless love really is possible.  You pay her.  She rubs the money
against her pussy and puts it to your nose. "The sweet smell of success,"
she says with a broad grin.  Then dresses.

"Next Tuesday?"  You say.  She nods with a grin and leaves.  You lie there
for a long time.  Wonder what your wife's life is really like. But you don't
have time for that now.  The real world is demanding your attention.  The
markets are in turmoil.  Decisions must be made.  Money managed. Just try to
imagine not having what you have.

Mike Geary
Wherever, whenever, whyever.

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[lit-ideas] Another Pleasant Valley Sunday

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