My Exceedingly Lonely Muse

aarena22Rena was not ten feet from me in the quadrangle, I on the verge of receiving the second best kiss of the ages, when all of sudden her head turns sharply to he left, and it is lowered like a hawk espying it prey. Rena is furious. The dark waves of rage are pouring from her eyes, and are being aimed at something.

“What’s wrong Rena? You look upset!”

Her head now snapped back in my direction sending waves of her hair flowing about her head like a cape. A hundred movie directors have shot then thousands takes to get this shot. It was in the can. I gasped, my heart was beating like a captured dove in her talons. Eat me!

All of a sudden, these two purple veins appeared on her forehead, and I watched them grow darker over her raptor-like eyes.

“Geez Rean. There is the Y on you forehead. Whats going on?’

“That Y always happens when I get real angry.”
“Wow! But, why are you angry? Did I do something wrong?”
“What – NO! You didn’t see her?”
“Who?”
“The girl who walked between us.”
“No! I saw only you! What did she do?” I asked, not having a clue why this girl deserved Rena’s wrath.”
“SHE……was wearing………my cape! The same cape, and the same color.”
“Oh!” I, peeped understanding I was not in this ballpark. This was major league……..?”

It took me a minute to understand this girl had ruined Rena’s grand entrance, and, my enjoyment of it. I got no kiss. Or a hug. This was a bad start, to the bad start, to the bad day, that we were both trying to put behind us, and thus save what we had which was/is – what?

This was a perfect match to the coitus interuptus we experienced, where alas Rena and I were going to make love in a big bed, in a house, and thus she promised she would be making a lot of noise, this time, not like in our tent in the campground. No sooner is she standing before me totally naked – I beholding the most beautiful bush in the world – then a knock came on the door.

“What is it? We’re busy?”
“It’s Rena’s boyfriend, He showed up at the door and l let him in. He’s in the living room. He wants to see Rena.”
Yeah. Right! Like I’m seeing her – for the first time. Of course he wants another encore. And he’s driven non-stop from Nebraska to get back in this perfect bush.

Rena get’s dress. Curtin falls on Act 3.

Wow! Pretty gutsy thing to do after she asks the sheriff to get me to stop, and I expose her perfect bush to my reader. I do this, not because this story is a work of art, and my newspaper was founded for the protection of the arts, I do this because I know the beautiful ending. It will make everyone cry. Now one will leave the theatre without wiping their tears away, like I have been for the last two hours. I had to restrain myself in the store, and was walking around in a daze – like a ghost.

I snapped at my pharmacist them apologised.

“I’m a writer in composing mode. You interrupted my story.”
“A young man next to me gave me a quick look to see if I was packing a piece.”

What I was working on was the exchange between my sister Christine and Rena in Jim Dundon’s apartment. We were all sitting around Rena in a circle like dwarfs around Snow White. We all knew she was perhaps the most beautiful human being we had ever seen – or would see. Then I noticed Rena was feeling un-comfortable, even agitated. That’s when I notice Christine was honing in on Rena with her third eye. I mean, this is the artist Rosamond – to be – who had an eye for beauty in regards to picking her girlfriends – whom she always wanted me to kiss.

Then, I saw it, the creature that I will be forever in love with. It came out of Snow White for just a instant, and the blue birds and what have you – dropped dead – as Rena said this without moving her lips’

“What are you looking at – BITCH!”

Here I am walking through target with my bag of cancer meds, seeing that Alien getting in Sergorny Weaver’s face!

Now, I have seen the cat fights of cat fights having grown up around the Rosamond sister’s, but, this spat – that only lasted for a half second – was out of this world!

Just then Vkci threw some blanket down on the floor and said it was time for bed. I watched my new friend put a quilt down, and a blanket on top of her. She seven feet away when the light was turned off. The street light outside lit the living room so I was able to study her, her energy. I never saw anyone curl up into themselves like Rena did. She looked like a creature, a very lonely creature. I knew then, I would know this creature till the end of my life. I just knew it. She was like a stray. She had this soul inside her that she rarely lets anyone see. When she sent me that letter and her poem. She never dreamed I would show these things to anyone. I knew she did not want me to post wich confused me, because I am allowed to write and publish intimate details about her and us, like I just did.

In the morning, as soon as we got out of the apartment, Rena says this;

“I don’t think your sister likes me?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because she was staring at me, kind of hard.”
“She was just trying to see the inner you.”
“Oh.”

Rena is a shame-based person because of the extreme abuse she suffered. She doesnt like anyone to see any of her flaws. I felt sad when she used white-out in her letter – that was less that perfect! When I posted that letter, she felt rage, because my readers could see the white-out. This is why I pointed out the tiny piece of glitter in the white-out. But, Rena didn’t get it. She thought I was pointing out her flaws. This is why she has avoided having girlfriends most of her life. This is why she flew into a rage when she saw Nisha reading her poem, because she saw Nisha as being perfect in every way, and not, flawed.

Every time I read Rena’s letter, came to a white-out, I wondered why she would not allow even me to see her mistakes. Then I understood she approved of everything I had written about her, and wanted my approval.

I am so in love with the imperfect Rena. So in love! “Why?” I asked myself in the store, because, she is the other Muse that work more closely with the artist than the Muse that inspires. She is the critical factor, the muse that takes a step back from the canvas with you, and recites this with you;

“No. That’s wrong! I didn’t get that down correctly. This is ‘The Lonely Muse’ because she never gets any real credit, because no one wants to be reminded of their mistakes – after they have been corrected. Rena and I have this beautiful opportunity to get it right, and I want her to have as much credit as she wants, as much as she can handle. She can even steal this story, but, wait till it is done.

To get to completion we must put this cat-fight behind us. This is what we are in right. I could be wrong. But, Rena never saw me with another woman. And when she did, she got out the big tub of industrial strength white-out. I knew, if I stopped writing in the last several days, she would have disappeared me!

I see that Y on her forehead, is beginning to fade!

“Phew!”

You see, this story began with a portrait of Rena I was doing with a brush. I am now working with words. I am so challenged to get everything right. I should have never put another woman in my portrait of Rena.
For she is a Great Muse.

“I have a million poems MEMORIZED. I can always guage my highs and lows by my focus, and my desire and ability to recite them…..”

What Rena is saying, is, recite them without making a mistake.

Now scroll to the top of the page and look at this creature that defies me to finish her portrait! I am in the battle of my life, at the end of my life. This is my masterpiece!

You see Dan Maynard, it figured out I had set a clever trap for it. It was all but invisible. I senced it like poetry, so I lay down little stanzas and siloques in order to lure it out of its tower in the wilderness. It took the bait. Began to Nibble on the live bait. Then, it saw it, these two words;

CAPTURING BEAUTY

Then, these three words;

AND THE BEAST

At eight o’clock at night, the town of Bozeman heard a terrible shriek! And, that’s when it came running with her long legs, to the Sheriff’s Office!

“He’s stalking me! Do something!”

I am going to write a letter to Doctor Phil. He’ll lure the Poet Monster out! It will be the most watched event in T.V. history!

Jon Presco

Copyright 2014

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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