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Still recovering or holding steady

Went to the ER again, this time in Kalamazoo. CT shows that both pulmonary embolisms have not grown, though they’ve not shrunk yet. I am having tachycardia (high heart rate), even if I walk across the room- so I am bedridden a lot, which is not cool.

I used to have to run or workout hard to get to 140 beats per minute- now I can do that walking down two flights of stairs to my kitchen. My resting heart rate is around 81 right now, which is INSANE for me.

I was pretty fit right up til 20 min before my clots (for someone with my genetic and age related crap). I ran, I walked, I was a fitbit freak. I don’t do drugs, I don’t smoke, I rarely drink- but when I do, it is with friends and family- I stopped eating carbs until my surgery. I felt amazing til the hysterectomy… ok, well, I AM a little reclusive by nature. I like just being with my kid and doing stuff quietly. I can’t even do that now.

I was right about the robot trepidation, I guess. They suspect that surgery caused this shite.

I am getting referred to a cardiologist to be put on a Holter monitor- and see a blood specialist about my genetic clotting disorder this week.

I am too stubborn to die. I refuse to leave my little girl. I’ve advocated for patients in the past- it is more difficult to advocate for yourself when you are infirm.

This morning I dreamed of my childhood bestie, Roger. He died about 6 yrs ago, suddenly. Had the same thing the actor John Ritter died from, just fell down and died at not even 40. He’d broken up with his boyfriend some time earlier, but had his room mate living with him at the time, who called the paramedics when he heard it happening.

I dreamed I was in Roger’s old bedroom from when we were teens on Red Arrow Highway in Watervliet. It was empty except for a waterbed and a little dog was hiding under the covers, and I pet it- it was a white small dog, not like the ones he owned that I remember. I had to go in his old closet to get a checkbook and get some of his bills paid- and his old closet was far deeper and larger than it had been. He was nowhere to be found, but I talked to the air and told him his bills were paid, then I saw another old friend (not Rog- and I presume still alive) whom I haven’t seen in over 2 decades- but none of my friends in the house could see him and asked me who the hell I was talking to…

The most comforting thing was seeing my other friend, who I believe is still alive, but lives abroad. It was so real. I put on a brave face to most people and really don’t get into the emotional aspects or fears associated with this crap, but it does scare the shit out of me.

People EXPECT me to be the tough bird, the crutch for them… except for this blog or my other writing outlets, I tend to not let people in. I suspect a lot of folks are like me, IDK.

Life, for me, is stop whining and get the fuck on with it, usually.

I almost died this month, suddenly, from bilateral pulmonary embolisms. I don’t want to die. I REFUSE.

Rog, I love you, but I don’t want to see you anytime soon. Maybe in 40 yrs. XO

My other friend/s. I love you all, too- even the ones I haven’t seen or neglected to reach out to for a million years. Thank you for reading this and I am sorry I have not been updating very often.

 

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I should be blogging, but life & bleeding & Bourdain & grads & ballet get in the way…

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I should be blogging about my female issues, part 2, but at the moment my innards are weeping the bloodiest of tears. I’ve slept so much this week since the endometrial biopsy- and it jump started my period early. I had no idea that simple uterine biopsies could take so much out of a person. The pain is better, the fatigue is not.

My hysterectomy is scheduled for 12 July.

My endometrial biopsy (the first) should be back early this week, the oncologist says.

My son graduated from high school last weekend, I still need to add this to the blog. I am so proud of him.

Maisie has her 2nd ballet/tap recital of her life tomorrow. I will be herding cats/taking care of the tots back stage, like I did last year. Someone has to do it and I’m evolving into a stage mother at this point.

The other crazy things happening in the periphery are dying down, for now. I’ve had my say and will continue to work through this, as a reminder to myself and others- don’t let people walk all over you. There are some seriously chronically messed up opportunists out there- and yeah, while addiction can account for a lot, that still is not an excuse for what was done to us.

I think about Bourdain and his fragility- and the fragility of those around us. This world will eat you up and spit you out if you don’t stand up for yourself and for what is right. Tony Bourdain stood up against the tides, championed his girlfriend’s #metoo cause against Weinstein- and it still wasn’t enough.

I saw a chilling post Bourdain put up on his Twitter on 22 May. It called out some guy re being found hung (I’m paraphrasing) in a lavatory from auto-erotic asphyxiation. It kind of gave me chills. While I don’t know the circumstances surrounding his death any more than the rest of us (a bathrobe belt, found tied to a door)- suicide or accident- neither is preferable.

He had his child at 50. That alone would make it impossible for me to take my own life, but I don’t live in anyone’s skin but my own.

It’s sad, sad, sad in this mad world.

Death comes to all of us, sooner or later. I think about my own mortality a lot right now. I’d fight tooth and nail against it, just like I fight tooth and nail against any other injustice levied against others and myself.

But life goes on, children grow up and graduate and do their recitals and play with their toys. We grow older. We die.

Over and over, in different bodies and different lives, it is all the same. We all share this common thread- even though we believe we’re unique.

We’re not unique. That is the beauty of it. The sameness, the threads that bind us- that’s the wonderment.

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Frauds & Old Broads

I’m too old for this bullshit”

At least that’s what I say

While muttering under my breath

Judging the other old broad

Who is simply clinging to dreams

Long since shattered by genes

and drugs

and other people’s opinions…

“I am too old for this bullshit”

I keep telling myself these lies

While I, too, am just as insecure

Aging not as fast as the other bird

But clinging fast to a pipedream

Fostered by hard work

and artifice

and expensive fucking fillers…

“We are both frauds, you and I”

I will say I’m almost 50

while I pop my heart meds

and stare at my smooth face

in the mirror

made deceptively young

while my insides rot away

like everybody else’s…

“We are both frauds, you and I”

Hiding your real birthday

popping your pills

photoshopping your wrinkles

in photos

made deceptively young

while your soul rots away

with your own delusions…

———————————————–

But the biggest truth this old bitch can spew:
I am still glad I am nothing quite like you

That, too, is fraudulent,

we’re both the same

The only difference

Lies in our pain.

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Ode To The Rude

Ode To The Rude

Have a care, I must report
Think hard before you retort
For I am simply not the sort
To hold my tongue in vain

While trying not to analyze
The scads of perfect alibis
How shocking that they all tell lies!
But they always sound the same-

While again I try to reason
Something smells a lot like treason
I think it might be wabbit season
On the maniacally insane

Look to the bedbugs in your bed
Do roll your eyes at THEM instead
Bravado masks the social dread
Can one quiver with disdain?

The moral of this short discourse:
While others may display remorse
What separates an ass from a horse:
Horses don’t scheme & beg for pain…

 
©2018 JDA

2

Vind wat je zoekt…

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Oké, nu naar beneden scrollt… it’s a few days back.

Useful links:

Part 1- How It All Began w/Writing a Screenplay for Cannes
Part 2- The Gap Sales Lady Lawyer
Part 3- My Child Traumatized By This (w/video)
Part 4- The Tale of Ludwig
Part 5- She Decides to Attack Maisie’s Dad- and he replies to her!

ALSO: Poetry, or ‘Em er some interesting reunions going on

4

Je houdt alleen van jezelf…

I knew a girl who went to Boston

Opportunity knocking at her door

Dreams of editors to save her soul

That she’d known once before-

 

So she planed this glad reunion

And wanted so to be his muse

Said the kids would stay in Europe

With their papa, what the deuce?

 

I cannot fathom heartless women

Who leave their families in dismay

Chasing dreams of lust and scandal

While motherhood slips fast away

 

We should let this be a lesson

Hold to ourselves those most dear

Instead of freaking drugs and aging

When abandonment is surely near 

 

The moral of this little story

Jotted down by this kind elf

Is the truth, when you tell them

Je houdt alleen van jezelf 

1

The Tale of Ludwig- Or, It’s a Sad World If People Think IMDB Credits Are More Important Than Apologizing For Scaring A Child.

They added the new “French Kiss” movie site on Facebook.

As an aside, they sadly and hilariously misspelled the co-author’s name. Her name is Christine-Marie Liwag Dixon- and it was changed to “Ludwig” a number of times, even after we pointed this out.

The saddest part was when Christine tried to participate in our group chats with these people, they’d ignore her comments completely, as if she were invisible.

It’s been corrected now on the page, but it reminds me of this meme from “Parks and Recreation”:

Instagram-510153

the saddest part was when Christine tried to participate in our group chats with these people, they’d ignore her comments completely, as if she were invisible.

I thought about things, about winding this feud up and getting back to real life, because it’s like arguing with aliens.

What these people seem to not comprehend, because they don’t seem to display typical human emotion, was that the proper thing to would have been:

1. NOT HAVE A PERSON CALL AND THREATEN MY HOUSEHOLD IN THE FIRST PLACE

barring that,

2. APOLOGIZED FOR THESE THINGS and addressed the part where a small child had been caught in their crosshairs AND TRAUMATIZED.

I don’t know what some folks are taught, but there has to be some sort of moral high ground.

They only seem to understand narcissism and fake victimization. It’s all for the glory for them, apparently. Nothing else and nobody else matters.

That is a sad state of affairs for them, in my opinion.

Suddenly, I find my blog seems to be quite popular in the Netherlands and Belgium, where they live on the Antwerp/Kapellen/Putte border area.

People have actually been quite decent about this and I am touched by some of the messages received from you. I thank you all so much for your support.

Dank je wel et Merci Beaucoup, jamais en altijd.

I have always loved the Dutch and Flemish people.

I only had ONE semi-nasty message from her camp- it was a fellow from Instagram.

I can absolutely see how this person could manipulate others into feeling sorry for them, to do her bidding. I was ONE OF THESE PEOPLE originally. I totally get it.

I will post below:

We seem to be oddly popular in Belgium and the Netherlands today

from the Instagram

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Soooo… the ‘actress’ called today- and later, I find out that she retained a Gap Sales Lady as her FB lawyer PLUS UPDATE: SHE USED A STOCK PHOTO-

UPDATE: HER ‘GAP LAWYER’ WAS A STOCK PHOTO- NICE TRY. SHE USED A ROYALTY FREE STOCK PHOTO TO THREATEN ME THIS TIME.

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Saw an UNKNOWN call come in on the phone. It was the actress.

We recorded it all.

Basically, the summary:

I had to tell her that it was less about credits & more about the actual THREATS:

ONE SIMPLY DOES NOT HAVE strangers call and threaten to fly to Amereeeeeca and attack someone/their family.

She simpered “Why did you write that?”

Me: “We NEVER have strangers call others & threaten to attack them in their homes”

S: “WHY DID YOU WRITE THIS, WHAT DID I DO TO YOU?”

Me: “Please re-read manuscript”

LATER, I receive THIS email:

She is now having sales ladies from the Gap attack & serve me with legalese.

Things must be mighty bad in the movie industry if her legal representation works in retail.

Since I saved and screenshot-ted everything she wrote- and video’d all the calls, with witnesses in the room, go ahead. Send you legal reps from Dollar Tree next.

Also, though I am not one to talk, Tilly ought to use spellcheck.

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2

In Which I write a screenplay for the Cannes Film Festival and get shockingly attacked in the process… theft and dishonesty in “the movie biz”

Jess Anderson & Christine-marie liwag dixon

So… I wrote a screenplay as a favor to a former admirer’s 50 yr old actress wife. I find out later that she was supposed to actually write it herself for Cannes, but she was too busy with her 27 yr old Dutch trailer park lover and his drugs/baby mama probs to write it.

Oh, and I was instructed to not let anyone know she’d been born in 1968, instead of 1970, as her IMBD indicates. Growing old is a blessing, but I digress…

By “admirer”, y’all know what I mean. He had been a good friend, as well. I must’ve had an impact on him, he named his children the names I chose 20 yrs ago-I had no idea he’d been saddled with such a scary problem until much, much later…

She’d been talking to me off and on for a few years, I had no idea she even knew who I was. We followed each other on IG. I was simply friendly and interested in keeping with the niceties. Well, one day she discloses that she knows WHO I am and basically pukes out all her marital and personal problems to me.

I feel SO SORRY for the poor thing and she asks me to write a script for the 2018 Cannes Film Festival because ‘she can’t deal’ with the drama in her life and convinces me that her husband has heinously abused her/never loved her, which is the reason why he allows her to philander.

She tells me ‘they are basically separated, but the hubs is her only source of income’- plus, he CANNOT KNOW I wrote this for her (did I mention it was just days before the Film Festival? MADNESS) and gushes about this director who will be filming it- at the same time, dissing him for lack of as many padded IMDB credits as she has.

Oh, so the ‘actress’ suggests the topic of this screenplay- it is largely a vanity piece. She plays the victim of a cruel husband (which I believed at first) in a loveless marriage- and says the only stipulation she has is that I write a great f*ck scene for her with a sweet, young thang (male)- and it be under 10 pages #shortfilm

She gushes that I am a GREAT writer, she is a super brown noser- but, lemme tell ya, this AIN’T my best writing. It’s what you get in 3 days before Cannes… but I try to deliver, because I have two things I later discover she doesn’t have: #integrity and #workethic

As I write this screenplay, I started out feeling very sad and sympathetic towards her, but as I get to talk to her more, I realize “Damn, this chick is wacky”. The real picture becomes glaringly clear when she tells me that she f*cked her young lover in her marital bed one day and that her hubs discovered a used condom- she then accused the hubs of planting the condom.

I knew her hubs, he is NOT nasty like that. She’s admitted to drug use and to her lover being a junkie. She is smoking cigs, she says, for the first time in her 50 yrs- a pack a day- who DOES THIS?! IDK anyone who suddenly acquires a nicotine addiction at HER age. EVERY story she tells me in the wee hours, typed out in FB msgr, keeps getting weirder and weirder…

I enlist the help of another professional writer to do the love scene. I had a basic idea of how I wanted her to be ‘handled’, but the idea of having this crazy lady nekkid in my mind’s eye after the cray stuff she spewed turned my stomach- the writer did a fantastic job blocking and creating the sex scene-

So, other writer and I happily work on this fluff, gratis, btw- for an IMBD writing credit and because it sounded like a light, fun thing to do- and the phone calls and bizarre msgs from this actress continue to arrive in my inbox.

She sends me photos of some 20-something bikini clad baby mama of her boyfriend’s – she is scattered and won’t work on the writing with me- and all she talks about is her very messed up extracurricular love life.


They also set up the casting call BEFORE WE EVEN FINISHED WRITING THE SCRIPT.

Cannes day arrives and she shows up, after giving up a yachting party, to the filming, per eye witnesses ‘strung out of her mind and wasted’- plus A GOOD 10-15 YRS OLDER than her IG and other pics, due to her recent sudden weight loss. She seriously reminded one of a “Faces of Meth” article- so much so, that I was immediately informed by those doing the shoot- who were also in shock.

Apparently, she didn’t look like that the year prior at Cannes-

I hear from her and the director that they had tentatively cast the roles with working actors- but after arriving in Canne she suddenly decides TO WALK THE STREETS LOOKING TO REPLACE THEM WITH NEW CO STARS, because she didn’t like who the director originally had suggested. WTF?! Everything was based on who she found, drunkenly, sexually attractive- per her disjointed texts to me.  

Fast forward to the end, it is shot in a record 7 HOURS, at which point she bombards IG and FB with excerpts from this ‘incredible epic film’… and she spends the rest of the film festival complaining  to me on fb messenger, when I’d check in to see if she was still alive- that her husband didn’t give her more than 250 euros for the trip, she had only 60 euros left, and couldn’t afford to eat- but was living off the free champagne and begging male friends (including the co stars ‘discovered’ on the streets) for lodgings.

At this point, things get blurry. The filmmaker (who doesn’t speak French) asks me to translate what the French husband was saying in the opening scene on the telephone- the dude was speaking gibberish, nothing salvageable for the film… he wanted to salvage it by either a voiceover (I felt like doing this would turn out like a bad 1960’s Godzilla dub) or a musical score to ‘set the tone’, since the male ‘actors’ were not actually professional actors at all.

The actress continues with her weirdness once she is back home in Belgium. She sends me msgs from ‘friends’ of hers who are accusing her of stealing their work. She is obviously strung out and not all there. She gets super paranoid. Once she finds out that I was assisting the filmmaker with post-production, she lost her MIND.

She keeps offering “if we don’t like it” to remove us from the writing credits, even though I told her again and again that we want our credits no matter how it turned out.  We send the script, as is, to the lawyers for copyright and published the Kindle version immediately. She was not pleased.

She twisted everything with the director, telling him WE WANTED to wrest control of this silly thing from them. She whined and gaslighted and manipulated. She would flatter, then cajole, then threaten me. That type of thing might work with other people, but Mama doesn’t play that.

Emotional terrorism is not cool.

I am currently going through a cancer health scare- and my sister currently has cancer as well.

A family member in CA was in a catastrophic motorcycle accident in December- I had been caring for them all winter in San Diego and am only back home in the midwest for my own health issues.

This writing project was supposed to simply be a nice little distraction, a way to create something positive and fun.

I did it for FREE. I DON’T need the money.

She had the nerve to infer that I was using my health issues as a way to take the spotlight from her and gain sympathy. I was shocked.

When I wrote today, in a group chat, that I forgave her for her transgressions and that an apology would be nice, or even that she should just come out and say what bugged her instead of twisting and turning people against each other, she flipped out.

She FINALLY OUTDID HERSELF TODAY:

S: “What’s your phone number?”

Me: “xxx-xxx-xxxx”

A screaming and slurring drunken French- speaking woman calls, not even the actress. She threatens me. I turn on the speaker phone so that the people in the room with me can hear as well.

CRAZY FRENCH CHICK (I believe her name is Marie- and she spoke in French accented English: “I am REEECH AND ‘AVE MONEEEY AND I WILL COME TO AMEREECA AND BEEEAT YOU UPPP, leave S alone”

Me (calmly and in French):Parle en français, madame- il y a un enfant ici et tu parles comme TRAILER TRASH”

(Translation:Speak English, madame, there is a child here and you sound like trailer trash)- I had a three year old in the room and these harpies couldn’t even do more than screech and hang up- it wasn’t even the actress, she used her friend to attack.

I tell the group chat with director and other writer what just transpired, and THEY CALL AGAIN, this time, I am able to video witnesses to this.

I tell the woman in French again to speak in French and they hang up when I do speak her language.

WHAT KIND OF CRAZY DOES THIS SH*T?!  

I tell the group again what transpired, the actress leaves the chat in a huff and blocks me.

END SCENE.

(Thank goodness)

Later, I discovered that a long time friend of hers also received the same shabby treatment. She had, apparently, a reputation for promising film credits for her little vanity films and would steal the material for herself.

No, what we wanted is fair treatment. You don’t steal from those who are there to help you. Karma is a b*tch. Play nice, especially to your writers. Don’t be a grabby, greedy, thirsty passive-aggressive little c*nt. THIS is why you have no real friends. This is why ugly from the soul is showing on your face.

If people didn’t do as she asked (or implied), she’d play a victim.

If you push back, she attacks.

I feel badly for her husband and kids and the other innocents she’s hurt.

I don’t feel badly for writing this.

Someone has to stand up to this anti-feminist, disempowered, passive-aggressive, drug addled pseudo-bully.

I told her once: “You are the polar opposite of Me”– and I am ok with that.

She must hurt a lot in her skin to hurt others like this.

I say this because I have been blessed with ways of dealing with MY aggressions.

I am a healthier person in my ‘old age’

Also, my non-white self is NOT SCARED OF YOU or your little friends, who can’t be THAT rich if they can’t even lend you money for a hotel in Cannes.

I can’t even imagine a world where I’d have to beg or have sex written into a scene in order to get a man to want to do me. That alone left me gobsmacked.

End rant.

Btw, here is the actual kindle link to the screenplay- I would not buy it, personally. Not our best work.