The Buried Collector

,,,was me!!!

I was “between the sheets” when I was a little girl. I just hated it when my mother and father gave me a “sandwich hug” in bed late on Saturday and Sunday mornings when I was little.

Later, I dreamed of a robot boy…

Then, after “the Advocate,” I enrolled in a drama course at Drew University in Morristown near our home in Summit in a desperate state. We were to read a passage aloud from literature. I read something dreary about smoke and a train. Someone else read something fascinating about a boy whose parents ignored him so badly that he pretended he was a robot plugged into the wall and when anybody stepped over the cord…

I was in psychotherapy with Sharon and got into trouble with my sister who pointed out–quite literally–she and her friend were pointing their fingers at me–that I was sluicing water between my thighs over my vagina in the pool–now I call it my pussy per the Mackintoshes.

So…

I was the Buried Collector.

In California, in Perris, before Jasmine Elizabeth, the second compensatory pregnancy and abortion; we were acting it out. The holy monk of the industry and the Buried Collector itself. I was spasming (per the diagnosis of “partial complex seizures” that led me to analyze my spasms as seizures that were actually spasms/convulsions from the clamped-catheter “surgery” in 1986). This became eroticized in the weirdest way. The wart/mole simplex, as previously reported, had suppressed a seizure disorder and it was within this that I had become my parents little “buried collector” “between the sheets” with a little “robot boy” lover upon reaching adolescence.

I had a natural love for the computer from an early age, I remember going on a trip to the IBM plant from grade school in New Providence, also, the simple, mechanical computer in Fourth Form at Kent School, also, my father bringing home the first hand-held calculator, a quite large thing, and this huge map of the first IC itself.

Much, much later, I remember “stroking” Hal, my husband’s Personal Computer in Germantown, MD for which I had a fondness, perhaps because he was one of the first to go on AOL way back in Buffalo back in 1994 just after Iain was born and then, in 1995 to 1996, in Germantown, MD, he was having an affair online in one of the AOL chatrooms. I caught a print-out of a screen capture of one of his conversations. It was very upsetting. He took me out for sushi. But then he kept doing it.

So, in Perris, California, before all this happened, before Iain, before Jasmine Elizabeth (but after Alexander Texas, the first compensatory pregnancy and abortion), we were making spectacular love. I would dress up in the most exotic lingerie. I won’t say any more. Except that I was jerky. Because my brother had kneed me in the crotch when I was five years old because the mole/wart simplex (pressing on a nerve in the side of my face) hurt me and made me mean. And this was what made me the little “Buried Collector.” I was perfect for it! A little bit jerky! Like an electrical part!

So, there we were in California, and, at that point, my condition had become complicated with spasms per the painful “surgery” and the diagnosis of “partial complex seizures” and all this had become eroticized; and, Alex was quite a handsome dude in a way that I did not QUITE SEE at the time and we were QUITE A COUPLE and I DID NOT UNDERSTAND at that time how we WERE PASTED ACROSS THE SKY TO HOLLYWOOD as the heart of the telecommunications industry, of course his work was in GIS consulting, just as my father was the James Bond of the telecommunications industry, here we were, the soul of the entire frigging electronics world.

So, somewhere in this I just know that there is a reason for all this human pain and suffering in the world that came to us afterward.

For Jasmine. For Iain. For me. For Iain. I am continuing to hold him up all night for his fragile soul as it hovered between life and death in that hospital in Buffalo the night that he was born, when he was somewhere in that hospital and I do not know where and I am trying to locate him.