Big Val and the Pizza Man

Day of the Irish

Today is St. Patrick’s Day, the day when people all over the world gather round to get drunk. That not being an activity for me, I am staying home to recover from my lingering post-Denver illness. It is an illness in which I was literally silenced by my mother, an illness that stays with me always.

I am so happy that the Catholic church (home of many Irish) is being brought to its knees by its decades of unsavory activities — oh, the lies and promises of those in charge, the utter mind-fuck of the supreme power having the gall to commit such heinous crimes. To further demystify themselves, they participate in a massive cover-up — lying about it and allowing the guilty continuous access to ever more victims.

Oh, it is ugly, ugly, and I’m so glad these despicable perpetrators are being unclothed, and I’m glad the issues of child sexual abuse and mothers of madness are being brought to the surface again.

Big Val is in the front of my mind today, big old obese Val. What has happened to her? She has gotten into the domination/mind-fuck mode, which has taken me by surprise. Why is she doing that? I don’t understand. My first thought is that she is jealous of me. I have formed alliances at work and at the moment have several men pursuing me. She has no man in her life — has never, in fact, had a date. She is carrying an extra 150 pounds, and at age 35, already has a drinker’s complexion. Already, many things gnaw at her.

Then there is the Pizza Man. I have known so many off-beat, wacko people, but I think Dave G takes the cake. He looks so ‘normal.’ He’s nice looking, knows how to dress, has a pleasant, upbeat demeanor, and is very successful in his career. But he throws out one off-handed comment after another that utterly blow me away. Some items from the ‘most shocking’ list:

1) His diet: He eats a frozen pizza every night and drinks a bottle of wine. For lunch he drinks a can of Slim Fast.

2) He has no interests. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone like this before — even my father has some quiet passions.

3) His ideology and world view don’t seem to have changed since 1960.

The list goes on and on. As far as I can tell, he has no discernable substance, except, I guess, a firm belief in being ethical. He seems to have spent no time thinking about anything. I guess he’s an airhead or bubble brain. Where did he go? Something unspeakable has to have happened to him, and I’m guessing it was perpetrated by his mother.

Is he one of us? A member of the group the Catholic boys and I belong to, along with so many others. It is the deep, dark, ugly secret of our culture. Is that why so many of us are not in control of our impulses, why so many people flock to get drunk on St. Patrick’s Day? Events like that are really more of a tribute to sex offenders and survivors than anything. Though it remains unnamed, people flock together for the comfort of knowing they’re not alone.

How do all of these things fit together for me? They all involve serious pathology. Big Val is my mother engorged, expanded several times, and Dave is my father reduced. My father at least had some impetus, some lines of interest, and a fair amount of class. Dave, however has little of anything. Here I am again in my classic struggle: Mom is messing with my head, slashing at my being, and Dad is killing me by nothingness, filling me with an empty void.

Is it any wonder that I spent so many years of my life wandering around in a fog? It was a bog of despair — any piece of me not destroyed by one was obliterated by the other.

I must say that all in all, they did a very good job.