April 6, 2013

     As of yesterday, Mo and I ain't speaking to each other.
     We closed up at 9:30 last night, because it was the first formal performance of "Vagina Monologues" (they've been rehearsing here for a couple of weeks now). Mo left without saying good-night. We hadn't talked all day, her first full day in the bookshop in four weeks.
     How we got to this point is what I'd like to journalize. (I hope you know all the stupid slang in my journals is intentional, not that this makes it less vulgar, but at least it isn't as stupid as you might think.)
     So, you're warned. This won't be pleasant to read.
     And, I suppose, I owe you an explanation of why there were no entries in February and March, 2013, in this journal entitled Glenwood Coffee & Books.  I've covered my disregard of the journals the past couple of months in my new journals (Criminal Journal, Cat's Journal, Another Publishing Journal).  Basically, the excuse is a good one, I've been writing like mad, but small booklets (on Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, Robert Smithson–memoirs about people I've known who have influenced me: Thich Nhat Hanh, Daniel Berrigan, s.j., Teo Savory).

This week, Mo and I had a couple of good talks. As you know, I think she (and Valerie Warren and a few other "Occupy" women) is the finest person I have ever known or met.  I have to go all the way back to Zakira ("Patti Field"), 1970, or a superior person like Kammaleathahh Livingstone, to find her equal. I've been privileged to be friends with a large number of really saintly or extraordinary or talented or brilliant young men and women in my 77 years. None are finer, perhaps none are as fine, as Maureen "Mo" Kessler. She has more qualities, certainly, than anyone I've ever met, because not only is she intelligent, not only is she a committed peace-and-justice personage, but she is also an incredibly talented and creative artist. It goes without saying she is a feminist and a very handsome woman. She'll be 28 next week.
     Mo's one failing, if she has any, is she doesn't communicate, at least not with me. I have no idea why she has gone from extreme affection to extreme antipathy as far as I am concerned. Why did she care about me so much to begin with? I have no idea. Why is she so hateful now? Don't ask me.
     I can repeat some of the things she said. But, I think, it's like a marriage. Two people are so in love they get married. They live together, have children. But when they divorce the hatred between them can overwhelm everything. Surely, the two extremes are connected?
     But, how?
     I feel unhappy that Mo suddenly now hates me. But I never had extreme feelings for her, and, now, I don't have anything against her. For example, I'm not speaking to her, if I'm not, because I blanch at the way she now looks at me. I feel this intense disgust and dislike, and it unnerves me. But I don't share it. However, the little I know and understand about Mo's character, I think I'm in for it. I have a strong belief that once you lose Mo's affection, it's gone forever. I mean forever.
 She don't like old white men to begin with! Mo has shared some pretty strong prejudices about old white men with me. I'm sure I'm now one of those worms.
Oh, boy! All this against a background of "Vagina Monologues" in our bookshop!
In my defense I offer only that Mo isn't thinking too good lately. She's burnt out.