Saturday, August 2, 2014

If I Told You the Truth, You Wouldn't Believe Me Anyway

I feel safe in here.

Things rush by, outside my windows – most of them just shapes, blurs, really – and some of them seem more threatening than others seem, but I feel safe in here.

Mostly.

While I am in here, I find things to do to occupy my time. We all have to be doing something, after all, wherever we end up, and mostly, I blog.

I have been blogging like this for years. By now, it might even have been decades. I do not know. There is no way to know for certain.

I blog, and one of the things that happens when you blog for as many years as I have is that people you have never met – just complete and utter strangers, really – begin acting as though they know you. I guess they act like they know you because they feel like they know you because they read about your life because you’ve written about your life and you’ve posted it online for anyone – even complete and utter strangers like them – to see.
                                                                                                      
At least it seems like that’s how it happened with me and my blog.

In my case, a lot of these strangers who feel like they know me send me emails, and the emails are full of questions and full of advice and full of offers for very inexpensive Viagra. And looking back through all of the emails that all of the strangers have sent me over the years, I guess the question I have been asked the most is “How do you know you don’t like guys? How many times have you tried? Shouldn’t you maybe try again?”

And looking back through all of the emails that all of the strangers have sent me over the years, I guess the question I have been asked the second most is “Do you think you could send me some pics of your tits?”  

And looking back through all of the emails that all of the strangers have sent me over the years, I guess the question I have been asked the third most is “How much of what you write in your blog is true?”

Let me assure everybody, for starters, that the first question and the second question are true. People really ask me those things, which is fine because I feel safe here. Mostly. And the people who send me emails, most of them even spell the word “tits” correctly, which is a testament to the quality of people that me and my blog attract.

I would like very much for everything in my blog to be true. I wish I could answer back the people who email me that third question and I could just say, “All of it! Every bit of it is true!” That is how I dreamed it would be, back when I started blogging, whenever that might have been.

Something got away from me somehow.

Sometimes when I am writing, people I don’t talk to anymore or people who are dead will just appear and start saying things and doing things and before I know it, the blog is not true anymore. But other people – people I do talk to, people who are very much alive and who are important to me – they never show up at all, or they do show up and I never call them in to do anything.

My son, for instance. Yes, my son. Four years old and I see him all the time, but if you only know me through the blog, then you have never heard a thing about him. He is sitting in the next room right now – sitting there, politely, quietly, like the good boy he is – waiting to make his big appearance, his grand blog debut, and I have not even had the common decency to give the boy a name.

Then there is Veva Purvious – crazy, maddening Veva Purvious – who’s made it halfway through the door in more than one blog post, only to get quickly shuffled into the back room. The back room with my son. And with Aesop (whose words are sometimes attributed to a hallucinatory sleep paralysis-induced demon). And with Bhoomi. And with my paternal grandma (not the grandma with the time machine, who’s actually been dead for years).

Somebody’s going to take notice of this shit. Child Protective Services or somebody is going to come ramming down my door and raid this awful place – a place where dead people and chupacabras and Nephilim roam the halls freely but honest-to-God happy, healthy, living people are locked away in the back room without so much as a name.

I wanted this place to be a diary!

There are no chupacabras in diaries!

Still, my blog is as real as I can make it – as true-to-life as I can manage – and from this day forward, I am going to manage even more.

I have some truth for you right now. Here it is. Here is a phone call. A phone call from my daughter, Rachel. On the fourth of July. It is the phone call that started the Chaos at Feast, and it is true:

RACHEL: I am going to ask you a question, and I am going to need for you to answer yes or no.

KATY:     Why? What is going on? Are you okay?

RACHEL:   I am going to ask you a question, and I am going to need for you to answer yes or no.

KATY:   Well, okay…

RACHEL:  Did you drug, poison, or otherwise dose Mom with something?

KATY:   Why would you ask me that? What is going on?

RACHEL:  Yes or no, please. Did you drug, poison, or otherwise dose Mom with something?

KATY:  Of COURSE not. I haven’t even-

RACHEL:   Shit. Okay, thanks… I’ll call you back.

That was the phone call where Chaos started feasting, and I haven’t felt as safe in here, or anywhere else, for that matter, since it happened.

This much of my blog is true. 

56 comments:

  1. Christ. I'm sorry. Somebody really hurt you there.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi, Rupert.

      Nothing bad has happened yet. I'm trying to tell a story slowly here. Parcel it out, a little at a time.

      At least until I get distracted by something shiny and start telling monster stories again.

      Delete
  2. Started slow, ended up with a bang. I like that.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks. I'm going to try and write things different ways.

      Some of it is going to work; some of it is not going to work.

      You'll probably get to read the successes AND the failures...

      Delete
  3. I'm not nearly as curious about the flunitrazepam questions as I am the missing links in the blobby family tree. There's a four year old boy in the shadows? So... we're getting drips and drops about all of this in the future? And can I delete previous requests for titty pix? They weren't made in jest, just lustful-wishfuls, and I totally regret them now that you appear willing to name names and tack our little shriveled testicles to your blog wall.

    Mea culpa?

    But when you're done with the literary castrations, can we have some details on the kids in this saga? Something tells me those kids are going to have some awesome stories to tell the world one of these days. It's always good to get a read on future best selling authors before they pick up a crayon.

    Can't wait for another update. Unless my balls are getting nailed to the wall, in which case, I'd could use a pardon from the governor.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It was definitely a conscious decision not to post pictures of him when he was a baby.

      I've had real issues with talking about and showing the kids in general.

      I suppose I could block out their eyes or digitize their faces somehow, but that always seems REALLY, REALLY creepy to me.

      As does the idea of posting topless pics of myself now that I'm thinking about how my oldest could easily find this place. If she hasn't already.

      Delete
  4. Do they have tits in the Americas? I thought they were European birds.

    *I'd* like to see pictures of your tarantula.

    As for your feasting chaos, I'll wait to see if you actually *do* write anything about it before I ope my lips and say, "Thou art Ms Oracle...and let all dogs bark!"

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The tarantula is fantastic and has gotten MUCH more face time in the blog than my kids.

      I highly recommend them as pets. They're sort of the cactus of the pet world: They don't require much maintenance, are almost impossible to kill, and your guests don't try and touch them.

      Delete
  5. The naked truth is poking out there! (sorry, brain hurts today)

    yeah, after stalking you all these years, I feel I know you. Maybe we should have a block party

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You have been around as long as anyone at this point. I remember talking to you in 2010, back at the old digs. Out of my regular commenters, I believe Cal and Brent have been around the longest, and you and Bill are next in line.

      There are some readers who have been around since the old days, too, but they don't comment much, if at all.

      We should have a block party.

      Delete
    2. "There are some readers who have been around since the old days, too, but they don't comment much, if at all."

      true that....

      Delete
  6. speaking of chupacabras, I posted photos of the puppy party, last night
    http://tinyurl.com/goodstuff-puppies

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I need to get some pet pictures together. Back when Dana and the kids were here, we had a veritable zoo - tarantulas, cats, snakes, scorpions, a snake and a dog. It was something like 40 different critters.

      But the pictures get scattered between computers, phones, disks, etc., and I never do what you just did there...

      Delete
  7. Well, I don't know what is true anymore. How can I believe there are goons who ask if you've "tried boys"? How do I know...Your banner is really cool, did you do that yourself?
    Sorry, I get distracted very easily.
    I must take issue, however. Chupacabras do show up in diaries. The best diaries.
    Maybe soon we'll get to read the whole story you've now been teasing for weeks?
    Also, if you wouldn't mind, please forward me these magical emails that promise very inexpensive Viagra. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You read the last page of books first, don't you?

      Life is a journey, not a destination.

      If I tell you NOW that my family was eaten by chupacabras back in July, isn't that going to just discourage you from reading the next few posts? once you know, why bother?

      Delete
  8. Just to be clear, I never asked for a picture of your tits, just to photograph them....

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Wow, SOMEBODY is defensive!

      No one is accusing you of being anything but a perfect gentleman... although I've never actually talked to the women you photograph, so this is just a gut feeling that doesn't even rise to the level of hearsay.

      Delete
  9. Replies
    1. All 3 of them are pretty great.

      I think it's obvious to anyone with kids or who knows a kid or who uses the internet or who hears about the internet why I'd be hesitant to feature them too prominently in the blog...

      Some people here might even remember the Great Hamster Debacle of 2011.

      Delete
  10. Well I didn't really know you at all since I'm fairly new around here. However, after reading this post, everything has changed. I feel like I can pop round for dinner without invitation any time I like. I don't have to knock anymore since we're such close friends and everything. I even have my own chair and a pair of slippers in the living room.

    Also, I was going to post about chupacabras this week. Not many people realise that chupacabras are slowly building an invasion force to annihilate the human race. Wake up sheeple!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hide your goats!

      I should go ahead and clear out a spot for you at the house, actually. The comments to this blog have made it clear to me just how long people stick around - there are people who have followed me from blog to blog for 5-7 years here!

      In the real world,. I only have about 2 friends, so this is sort of weird.

      Since you have the chair and slippers, though, I do hope you also have a smoking jacket. I've always wanted a friend in slippers and a smoking jacket.

      Delete
  11. Bloggers, like painters, publish their work more for exhibitionist purposes. You used to portray your personal life like how Picasso portrayed the mistresses he had. But even at that time, people in your real life rarely publicly commented on them, because they knew the exhibitionist nature of your public displays of your work and your troubled soul.

    Nowadays, your blog is not even about you, as if Picasso started to mimic Matisse, for whatever the purpose it might be. Yes, it could be more wholesome or agenda-driven now, but, who cares, you know? The doting yet clueless public wants to see the obscene nudes, while your family and friends, as the most important person in your life, only wants to know and to care about your soul.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Wow, I was just talking to GOODSTUFF about my commenters who have been around the longest. I'm not sure whether you have been around as long as Cal and Brent, but I know you go back to like 2007.

      You've said before that you don't like my newer stuff. I LOVE the new stuff - I really think it's the best material I've ever written (or some of it is, anyway), bad none. It definitely contains some of the most personal stuff I've ever managed to write - the "Dear Dana" one from last year, for example, surprised me. The 3400 material from earlier in the summer surprised me, too.

      Just as importantly, though, I'm not completely interested in a bunch of page views by people who just want to see me naked. Honestly. I had to look up two references others left in the comments yesterday, and that's fantastic!

      Two of them are worth 200 of the other. So I get 25 comments and 500 page views per blog now instead of 250 comments and 5,000 page views.

      This page accomplishes all of my blogging goals, for the most part.

      I do wish I could push the writing envelope a little farther, but I'm always going to try for that!

      Delete
    2. For the doting and clueless public: my referencing Picasso's obscene nudes was a metaphor for this blogger's past portraits of her personal life and struggles. I was certainly not urging the posting of actual nudes on this blog page, especially given the unknown and undisclosed legality involved.

      But there is a simple reason for your reaction to the "Dear Dana" and the "3400 Montrose" pieces, which was not a surprise to those who understood you: you allowed your real emotions to come out in those writings, which you did in nearly all of your old writings, making them much more valuable and meaningful.

      The 5,000 page views you used to get, they were not about hoping to see you naked. Even the phone-sex pervert Charles in Oregon came to read your stories once a while. People are naturally drawn to real life stories and real emotions.

      Just like real love, which has nothing to do with nudes or sex either.

      Delete
    3. Sorry about the comment-posting confusion earlier, on5464.

      I don't want to get into the tall weeds here, but there is a very big difference between a diary and a writing journal, and most of the time, I think of this place as the latter. I'm trying to create moods or do something with the writing, as opposed to saying, "I went shopping today, y'all!"

      In fact, this blog from the beginning was IN PART trying not to create that personal connection with people that led to such ugly things over at Multiply. It can be scary when SOME complete strangers feel a connection to you - YOU know the sorts of things it led to at the old place.

      Delete
    4. This comment has been removed by the author.

      Delete
    5. Hmm... Well, the pre-2011 blog did teach me to be more careful about how much I put out there about myself.

      Delete
  12. Of all the people whose blogs I've read for a long time I feel like I know you the least.

    Jay

    ReplyDelete
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    1. This comment has been removed by the author.

      Delete
    2. Jay's not pulling his punches today...

      For the record, though, people I know in my day-to-day life would probably say the same thing.

      I'm not overly warm and fuzzy.

      Delete
    3. My comment wasn't a criticism. You don't have any obligation to let people get to know you. I mean, I post things like mock news headlines and celebrity sex tapes that would be popular. Not exactly deeply personal stuff. ha

      Delete
    4. Everyone feels like they know you because they hear your voice on your podcast!

      Delete
  13. I come here for the writing, plain and simple. Not for tits or truth. A little creativity beats "dear diary" type shit any day.

    Also, I've never "tried boys" and I'm still 100% certain that I don't like them, so I'm not sure why that kind of logic can't apply to gay women. Unlike brussels sprouts, a penis is not something I have to try to know I don't like it.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm thinking about making this blog consist mostly of pictures of the food I'm about to eat and cute quotes my kids have said.

      I think that will add that personal touch that will really make everyone feel like they know me!

      Oh, and pictures of penises. Nice, heterosexual penises...

      Delete
  14. Humph! Up until about a month ago ... I thought you still lived in underground Houston. I'm too mushy-minded to have to discern the truth about EVERYTHING I read ... and as a 'Murkan citizen I don't think I NEED the by-god truth to get by, anyway! Unless'n the TRUTH ... is as good as what you've been writing. Either way ... Please proceed!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi, bj! You are on my Gold Star list today because of the shout out on your new post (http://bjsunoriginalthoughts.blogspot.com/2014/08/is-it-monday.html )

      Anyway... As it turns out, not having a permanent physical address was going to hurt my chances of getting joint custody of the kids.

      Seriously. Apparently, the family law courts in Texas frown on voluntary homelessness.

      I've been grounded to a real home for more than a year!

      Delete
    2. Hey BJ - I am now following you

      Delete
    3. You see that? Yet another match made possible by Fascist Dyke Motors.

      I'm all about bringing people together.

      Delete
  15. Where are all the metal fans?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Same place they always are, I assume: Out finding a church to burn down.

      That's what I need to post: A good church-burning blog. I haven't been edgy enough lately.

      Delete
  16. First time I found you was on Multiply;. I believe I was following you before I moved to Chicago in 2005, I followed you there and when I returned. If I remember right I think you were also blogging on My Space. I'm not sure about the dates, as it sometimes seems like I'm coming down with old timers disease.
    I dropped out on you a couple of times for a year or so, once when I tried to get rich quick and again when I was running back and forth to Morocco trying to bring back a runaway bride.
    You always impressed me, Yes, I thought you were my kind of girl, but it never entered my mind to ask for your picture, I would have been afraid of scaring you off and that's the last thing I wanted, I still have a crush on you, You're safe because I'm still in love with my wife, and i don't anticipate that changing,
    You make me jealous because you good.write so well, You are unique and I think you are probably as charismatic in person as you are on paper.
    Since I've probably pushed the envelope and don't want you to OD on praise' I:ll stop now, except to say this. I don't need your picture because I don't know how there could be a more beautiful photograph of a woman than I see every time I open this blog, Whoever took it is a genius. It is stunning.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Frank!

      Most of the Multiply immigrants were originally from Yahoo 360, which was an early attempt by Yahoo to have sort of profiles / social media things for users. Like everything Yahoo touched, it tended to blow up for no apparent reason.

      I never imagined back then that I'd still be talking to so many people in that crowd a decade later!

      Delete
  17. By the way, not my business, but I wouldn't write about my kids, before they were adults and they signed off on it. I don't think it would make them rich, and i might regret how they got famous.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yeah, I sort of ride a line when it comes to the kids. The "Mommy Blog" phenomenon is a little scary, but sometimes, stuff involving the kids is all I have to write about.

      The blog is probably going to be the least of the things about me they'll come back and complain about later on.

      And hey. I haven't had them eaten by seagulls or kidnapped by aliens in the blog... yet.

      Delete
  18. Truth is over rated, because there is more fiction in the book stores than non. And we all know that fiction is based on experience. So is it non or not? Dunno, but either way Truth is lost in the accident we call writing, and all that survives is narrative. Which is fine, as long as it is good.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi, rammer!

      I think that sounds about right. When i start writing, I sort of have something I'm trying to say and sometimes, the writing just sort of happens. During this post, for instance, I went off on this great tangent about how I come from a long line of bloggers, and how my grandfather live-blogged Teddy Roosevelt taking San Juan Hill, but our blogging empire was wiped out during the Blogging Wars of the 1910s...

      I shelved that part because I figured it would look bad in a blog post about truthiness.

      Delete
    2. Hi, Katy,

      Thanks for your note about deliberation in composition. I am glad that you decided to separate that story from this post. It is a hard thing as a writer, especially for me, to choose not to write a thing. And your reason was righteous. You are better at this than me.

      But I want to read that story. So, write it. For me, and us your readers.

      Delete
    3. It will all get posted eventually. I'm a terrible editor. Just terrible.

      But seeing the good reaction to this post, I'm remembering that people seem to respond best when it kind of feels like I'm talking with them in my blog.

      So I'm going to try that for a couple weeks instead of, you know, hitting them with long bits about strokes and suicide.

      Delete
    4. Probably a good plan, because no matter how dark you write tonight, the sun will come up tomorrow.

      Delete
    5. When I go dark, it usually does not mean I'm down or depressed.

      Sometimes it just means I like dark stuff.

      I sort of cycle through that and find the light again. I think there's a name for that in psychiatry...

      Delete
    6. Yes there is are names for it, but it is not from psychiatry, nor are you depressed, or psychoactive. You are truly an author, or an authoress, or a bad-ass word bitch, or a write-your-own hyphenated adjective. Just keep it coming and we will all continue to be thankful to be able to read you.

      Delete
  19. It's the writer's curse: when you write the truth people think you are making shit up - and if you make shit up people think it's the truth. This is a sign of good writing. It fucks with the head. You are a very good writer, so you are basically screwed in this particular department.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I've sort of given up, you know? If something gets my point across, the specifics aren't so important. Hopefully, the writing will remain fun and the accuracy won't matter.

      I'm not cnn.com (or whatever site might value accuracy). I almost majored in journalism in undergrad: The writing was mind-numbingly boring.

      Delete
  20. I know you're a great writer! But otherwise, yeah I don't know hardly anything about you. But the same thing could be said for nearly all the bloggers I follow. I think it creates more incentive for readers to return. Not that your writing, itself, doesn't warrant that already. I don't know what I'm saying, but sorry I'm late to the party on this one.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Chiz!

      I've never really been into the facebook thing, where you post every place you go and everything you eat.

      And with the people whose stuff I read, I kind of like the idea of their being to dole out whatever information about themselves they choose to dole out.

      I hope I'm not an over-sharer.

      Delete

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