alright. i’ve figured out how to write judy’s character convincingly. as a faint shadow of myself as the eldest in my family, i find that i can’t really get back into the horrible feelings of hatred i harbored 30 years ago. i’m more in my mom’s position now than i was 30 years ago. now it’s my daughter who has the problem with hating her mother.
so i’ll partially write judy as my kid. god knows i’ve stuck her into enough of my fiction (write what you know). and if i need an example of matricidal tendencies i need only write down her words and behavior and there we have it. fiction is real. today she asked if she could make art from my corpse, and jim offered to talk to her about making a mold of my head and putting my ashes into it when the time comes. you can’t make this shit up.
my 21 year old is living downstairs and renting the apartment while she learns about the world of credit scores and rental history. she loves the apartment, but really wishes i’d move away because i’m the largest thorn in her side. so all i have to do is keep track of the things she says, keep in touch with her irritation.
i’ve been thinking alot about judy. she’s not going to turn out the way i’d pictured her. for one thing, she keeps wanting to be single. but i need her husband to sleep with mom. so i’ll make it like the later years of my own first marriage, and they won’t have had sex for years, and either they sleep in separate bedrooms now that the kids are gone, or they’re in a king size bed and she’s got a row of papers and books taking up the middle of the bed between them.
i’ve already been informed by judy herself that she is a hoarder. she’s got piles of crap all over the house, and in some places you have to turn sideways to pass. things in chairs. things on tables. things in corners. in my case, fabrics, sheets, blankets, pillows, comforters, scraps, old clothes in bags, things pulled out of the garbage and folded up to go on the pile. books by the thousands. i can take all this from a friend of a friend whose house is a real case study. ah the kitchen.
she can see the good in everything, the potential use in a scrap, and can never make her mind up to throw out anything because you never know when you’re going to need it. this is why she’s the peacemaker in the family, this is how she’s suppressed her anger all these years, this is why she uses weed like prozac and drinks around her family.
on another topic, i took my laptop downstairs into the studio and set it up for the start of nanowrimo, which is coming up fast at the beginning of november. i can’t exactly find the new networked drive that my ex set up on my main computer, but i can at least connect to the internet and mail myself the daily writing, or even post it here right from my studio. last year i was reduced to disconnecting the laptop and bringing it upstairs to physically plug into my desktop. this year i’ll be able to sit downstairs with jim all day, and when i’m tired of writing i can work on a painting.