Monday, March 22, 2010

lady jaye chapter of scrimshaw

Chapter 53 If time is a tunnel then memories are stairwells that bring us to the surface. On the level ground we soak in the many rays of pleasant times and ultimate connections that serve to sustain as we continue our underground journey. Lady Jaye told me that she loved the PTV3 line up. “I could eat them without dressing.” I sent her some requested material that met her approval: “yes, berry good.” That’s the way she speaks: with taste and a delicate palate. “I like warm Dr. Pepper,” she told me. Confused over the voices I mistook her for Djinn. I said they had a shimmering quality when they spoke. “Shimmering,” she repeated. Her voice is a giant chain that helped pull me from a cave, the light shimmering from every link. I wrote that several months ago. I never met Lady Jaye in person. I knew her over the phone and though email. I’d call and she’d talk to me for like an hour. After one of my heroes, Hunter Thompson, blew his brains out we talked. She pointed out that using coke for that many years rewires the brain chemistry. Rewires the brain chemistry; that was a point I needed to hear because I hadn’t considered it. In one sentence she was able to clarify a point and make me understand exactly what had gone on and why. I suddenly saw her as a mirror of Djinn and how they both shined light in different places. They reflected each other but that reflection didn’t convince it enhanced. It showed the lines around each other’s body like a grid overlaying a map. They traced each other and said: ‘we can go here, or we can go there.’ ‘This is me, that is me.’ In my voluminous files I find a postcard of two marmots on a rock. Marmots are a species of ground squirrel that look really cute. On the back was a nice note from Lady Jaye saying that Mercury is in retrograde and it’s caused all manner of bullshit the past few weeks. She mentioned how NYC is a toxic oven in the summer but where to move? “It must be somewhere without pollution and with a tolerant consciousness so we don’t end up tarred and feathered.” It’s hard for me to imagine anyone tarring and feathering such a gentle spirit as Jaye but stranger things have happened. Her passing was a great shock and very strange indeed. The day before I was recalling her interest in warm dr. pepper and I thought when she comes next month I’ll be sure to leave a bottle in the back of my car so she can experience some warm southern dr. pepper. I was absolutely stunned when I got the email. I couldn’t even look straight. Who am I gonna talk to now? I got so used to Jaye picking up the phone and saying: “I’d recognize that drawl anywhere, how are you Jim?” We traded rock and roll gossip; we discussed the gangster Bush administration, we discussed being Cancers and she gave me an interesting tip. She didn’t celebrate her birthday on the actual day because so many strange things had happened in the past. Her last celebration was on Bastille Day which is my birthday. Most importantly we discussed the message of Breyer P-Orridge and how it is about showing the possibilities of change. About showing the inevitableness of change, about showing that the way you live can be creative all by itself. Move a fin and the world turns. Five or six times over the past year I’ve had such an urge to call her but then I remembered. Especially since I changed my anti-depressants and I knew she’d have some insight. “Rewiring the brain chemistry.” Rewiring what a person thinks is possible; reclaiming what a person thinks is applicable, redistributing the energy to accommodate the belief that nothing is true and everything is permitted. Lady Jaye showed and reflected a message of hope and love. She hoped that everyone she encountered could get a glimpse from the light she reflected. I certainly did. I miss her very much.

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