In her letter to me Rena says her father physically abused her when he was drunk. Was he sexually abusive? Did he force his beautiful daughter to be his lover? The ghost writer, hired by Stacey Pierrot says Vic forced Christine to be his lover. Did Stacey, or Tom, give a shit how this would affect me – or Christine’s daughters? Christine is not revealing this dark secret – in public! Meghan and Harry are in deep shit for airing dark secrets. Why is it just fine that A MAN – who is not related to me, and who never met my famous sister – to be allowed to write such things? Is Tom working out some repressed, stuff, from his childhood? He expects to get paid. My nieces are getting nothing from the sale of his book, and, if there is a movie made, Christine’s daughters would get none of the proceeds. Why? Is this supposed to be – good for them? In the video of the REEL film festival we hear writers and film makers in recovery say how good it was for their recovery – to air their – issues! What about me. Sydney Morris, a partner of Robert Brevoort Buck worked hard to make sure I am not heard because I wrote him this;
“Your probate is a fraud because you don’t have a DEATH SCENE! Everything written about how my sister drowned – is full of holes!”
Here is the input of Mariana Sayler. Was she shocked to read Snyder’s book? Did Tom lead her to believe all Christine’s family would have wonderfully beautiful and creative things to say about a world famous woman artist? Did she regret breaking Rosamond’s Anonymity?
Christine did not render works of art BEFORE the night she saw Rena and I together. She was very stressed out. She knew Rena was going to take me out of her life – and I was going to render paintings of her, and – I would become a famous artist! She loved me – like no other! I was her ideal man. I was her PROTECTOR – our whole life. And, now, by a waterfall, I get it – Rena needs my protection. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and she likes me, and, she is going to let me fuck her as much as I want, because our kiss was -so hot! And, I SAVED HER!
The problem is, I can not get her TO CONVERSE! We are not having a CONVERSATION! And this is just fine with her. I can USE her to sexually gratify myself – all I want! I was a virgin until I was twenty. I have – my issues! I am twenty-four. Problem solved -for both of us. We’ll just fuck like it is going out of style! We will heal each other. We will feel good – and whole!
Here’s a truth for you – because I have long loved the truth – without Rena, who lied about her age (she was seventeen not eighteen) Mariana Sayler’s published words – would not exist! She had millions – as did everyone around her!
Rena – is my Muse! She is also – Christine’s Muse! Rena inspired Rosamond to take up art, so she would be famous – too – and thus she would not lose me, like WE lost Bill.
Rena is my model for Victoria Rosemond Bond, because she has a memory that is beyond extraordinary. She tore up my long letter – then rewrote it so she could show it to the Sheriff of Bozeman Montana. She also rewrote – her letter to me – so she could prove she wrote me nothing that provoked me….TO STALK HER! I told the Deputy Sheriff, all I had was a P.O.Box!
“Oh!” he said.
Have you read the news? What the fuck is wrong with the leaders of the world? They all act like virgin girls who have been raped in a alley – and they are trying to get each other to CONFESS they are FUCKING SEX FIENDS…or something! When my father reached into his desk for his gun, I shouted at him…
Rena was very good – at fucking! She got straight As in school and was skipped a grade. She was in A CELL. She knew she was beautiful, but, could not own it. She knew she was severely damaged. I didn’t want to fuck her – anymore! I had fallen in love with something truly extraordinary. I was in love…..with beauty itself! I was in deep trouble. Rena, was the World!
Christine hated to – do shows. She hated to be asked this question, over and over..
“Why do you painting beautiful women? Why don’t you paint – beautiful men? Do you have a thing – for women? Are you gay – or bisexual?”
Of course, I came to mind.
“No, my brother is the real lover of women. He makes love to them. He has very beautiful lovers. I am so jealous! They are his – religion. I’m just in it – for the money!”
There it is – the truth alas!
I…and the world, including the art world, deserve to read the stolen words of Christine Rosamond Benton. No matter how ugly they are, how outrageous, and slanderous, they are her words. My brothers and sisters in AA have heard many horrible things in a meeting. I need to bring a lawsuit against people – I believe have read Rosamond’s autobiography.
Say it – Christine! Here’s your chance…..
“I love my brother – the artist.”
To all the artists, and their muses, who brought them to that special place in the world.
The Caribbean is vital to the strategic interests of the United States. It is the U.S. “front door” for maritime logistics, finance and tourism and generations of immigrants from the Caribbean that have helped shape U.S. society and culture. Russian President Vladimir Putin laughed off the idea that he could be considered a “killer,” but expressed a willingness to work with President Biden in an
interview with NBC News ahead of the two leaders’ summit Wednesday in Geneva. China’s ‘Outrageous’ West Philippine Sea Moves Slammed in Philippines Independence Day Protests (msn.com)China reminds us why the Caribbean is vital to US strategic interests (msn.com)Putin laughs off ‘killer’ comments ahead of summit with Biden (msn.com)
About ten this evening I put on my slippers and went to get my mail. I pulled a bundle out and noticed your letter nestled in a packet. On the walk back to my apartment I took a peek and noticed the beautiful handwriting, and the name “Rosemond”. There was this energy pouring from the envelope and flowing up my arm. When I opened it and saw the name “Bozeman” I began to cry. For several minutes I sobbed, let go tears of great relief as if you were my child who had been kidnapped, or lost, for all these years. And, now…..you are found.
In the history of letter writing, and receiving, I don’t think anyone was ever so moved. Then, I opened the envelope and read; “Here I am”.
If these were the only words this letter contained, then I had way more then enough to read for the rest of my days. My cup runneth over.
Before I discuss the content, I found something when I read your letter the second time. In the white-out on page one there was the faintest speck of green glitter. It sparkled at me like a distant star. It was the essence of you to go with “Here I am!” It went with the date the letter was written – Christmas Eve. I saw the star making its way from your tree, to the snow in your poem, and then to me. It was so full of life. It was the promise of a completely happy life that has eluded you and I since we can remember.
I too was held prisoner. Both my parents were violent and insane alcoholics that played evil games with their four children till the day they day – and after.
Over a year ago I began a painting of you. One night after I lie down to go to sleep, you lie down next to me. You were seventeen again. I jumped out of bed. For a month you appear by my side as I walked. When I went to a movie, I was not quite alone. I told my friends I have a very friendly – and beautiful ghost.
“Do you think she is dead?” a friend dare ask.
When Rena and I left the backyard, we went to that freak-out hotel on Telegraph so we could engage in intercourse in a bed. It was a disaster. No sooner did we get naked in bed, then we heard blood curdling screams and evil arguments – from every room. Folks were on bad drug trips. Our room was ugly and used – in an abusive way.
I looked at the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, who did not belong here. What a mistake.
“Let’s get out of here! Get dressed.
“Where are we going.”
“It’s a surprise.”
We crossed the San Rafael Bridge around six in the afternoon. We got to Mount Tamalpais, and pitched our beloved tent at seven. We had two hours of daylight. Rena loved this place.
“I want to go swimming. Is there any place to swim?”
“Yes, follow me!”
Fifteen minutes later, we are standing on the trail looking at the beautiful pool of deep water that Catarac Falls fell into.
“Will this do?” I asked, and was taken aback at how incredible Rena looked against the forest. I was enthralled by her perfect profile and watched her eyes take in the beauty all around us.
But, Rena was not smiling. I had a hard time reading her. We hardly knew each other. That fact become very apparent, because we were now utterly alone. We were deep in a beautiful forest. I could tell she was feeling uncormfable. I suddenly realized if she went swimming in this forest lagoon, I would want to be in the water with her. She did not want that. I could tell she was hiding her discomfort – very well. For some reason she did not want us to be naked in that pool, and embrace. Under her facade I could see she was afraid. Why?
“Rena.” I spoke softly. “I don’t want to seduce you anymore. I want to get to know you. I want to be with the person behind that beautiful face. I want to talk with you. I want you to talk to me.”
Rena looked so startled, as if she had been found, or, found out. She was trapped inside her beauty. Her beauty was her shield that told everyone she was doing well, and there was no need to dig any deeper.
I watched her stagger, then struggle to keep her balance as my beautiful blue eyes told her I was speaking the truth. Indeed, I would never touch her again if I could not see the real Rena.
“No ones ever talked to me before.” she said.
“What do you mean. Surely people have conversed with you?”
“But, they’ve never talked to me.”
“You mean, I am the first one?”
“I have trouble believing that?”
I studied this beautiful creature as the sun sent beams of sunlight thru the canopy. I heard these unspoken words……
“You have found me!”
This is one of the most incredible moments of my life.