Letters of a befuddled subject 5 8 17

Letters Of A Befuddled Subject

Monday May 8, 2017 Dear Jesus, Of those who’ve lived and died, there are so many to reprise and by surprise of bombastic eyes, Joan Blondell is hella belle! All others in Hollywood wouldn’t think but to cut someone out, not Joan though. I suppose this Rosebud to be of the bushel and peck that great actresses are fleck out from. She was never glum, even though her life had bumps and bruises; she never spent time over injuries, she pressed on as the British would say. Her father Ed, whom has said: “If you love ‘em, they gotta love you back!”, is her first inspiration. He gave her a life rife with community and no immunity to hard work.

Indeed she worked hard and got married…and failed. We all fail Jesus. I pray therefore for George! Oh he was so depressed. He sat there in cold sweat for want to say what was on his mind and couldn’t. He got more gleeful with the passing hours when she would press him for why he was slumping there not moving or talking. That was when his glee broke into the cold sweat of frustration as she was walking away. Joan, he thought: “No! No! Pull it out of me! Get this daemon out of me!”

She could not, Jesus, release his inhibition so he could feel the rain on his skin. Then,…she divorced him. And the sound stage fell silent and the darkness of a corner descended on him and then he was gone. Poor George!

Help him Jesus! Give him the Immaculate Conception for consolation!

And she married others. There was Dick Powell and he had a cavalier chagrin about his chin and she was tethered to his lummox, his charms in hand. They bore Ellen, where before Joan bore Norman with George. Her two children managed to cope with her fame and lifestyle though they did rebut its schedule. When she finally met Mike Todd, it was the St. Elmo’s fire in her night dreams; though I think, Jesus, it was the Holy Spirit and not Mike Todd. It swept over her and without a scathe it made her stop with husbandmen and chart her course into more uncharted waters.

Remember Joan’s obedience!? Remember how she would not take a role away from another actress? How, when on Broadway, she always covered her compatriot actors errors? Remember how she left Mike lest the children should get hurt? Remember how she would sigh and chasten long to understand her man?

Remember her, Jesus!

It shows me that all of us men take out our frustrations on the women we marry and can make their home a wreck of the Hesperus. It happens when we have a love so deep and profound, it becomes a brazen crack and we lack the propensity of expression. I think it is for want of Eve to return to our rib.

Your Befuddled Subject