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Trojan Horses that concealed the true mystery\u2014how hard we\u2019ve tried for centuries to save them from themselves.<\/p>\n
Maslow tries to stay calm. He is juggling multiple worlds, times, ideas, connections. She feels his confusion and turns to give him the full-glow knowing smile, her teeth sparkling from some unseen source of light.<\/p>\n
\u201cJack thought I took our relationship too seriously. Hah! If he had known what was good for him, he would have taken it more seriously. My job, as always, was simply to bring the boys together.\u201d<\/p>\n
Gone now is the innocent seductress. Replaced by an emotional whirling dervish, rapidly changing tone, attitude, and intimacy. Wiser than her years…or even her lifetimes. \u201cNow where was I? Oh yes, Trojan Horses…\u201d<\/p>\n
Now, with a little twinkle in her eye, she walks\u2014this time, her famous \u201chorizontal\u201d hip-swinging walk, all the way back to ancient Greece and then returns again to the 1950s where she spins around, flings her arms back as if to burst into song, and smiles widely as she imitates the fake baritone of a 50\u2019s movie trailer:<\/p>\n
\u201cWith good old Joltin\u2019 Joe as the brooding and not-quite immortal Achilles, and countless men taking turns (remember that phrase)\u2014play fair, now boys\u2014at supporting roles: the cuckolded Menelaus, the ravaging Paris, and the brave, but sanctimonious Hector and Agamemnon, both trying to defend their brothers\u2019 honor while getting a little action on the side…eh Agi, eh Bobby? Not to mention all those dear, noble, elderly, modern-day Nestors and Priams, particularly kind Isidore, Arthur\u2019s father. The only real one I ever had. And the legion of lovely Clytemnestras, stabbing their wandering husbands upon their return, even though they themselves had also taken lovers in the meantime! Hah!… Paula Strasburg was an excellent Sibyl, don\u2019t you think? Or maybe Ophelia? A little dated perhaps, but I still cannot fully shake the hold she has on my spirit.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u00a9 2021 David Blistein<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Waking the Dead \u2014 Marilyn Monroe 6<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Her monologue had begun slowly but now rises to an ecstatic pitch. Maslow\u2019s mind is a mish-mash of insight and innuendo as chaotic schematics of relationships spanning three thousand years zigzag across his neural pathways like an imploding organizational chart.<\/p>\n
After a dramatic method-inspired inhale and exhale of breath, she begins again:<\/p>\n
\u201cTaking turns. I told you to remember that phrase. How else can I explain just how porous humans are, without destroying your sense of self altogether?\u201d<\/p>\n
Brilliant, Maslow thinks. Brilliant. Yes. Of course. Humans are porous. Why do I keep looking for boxes to put these people into when they have come from so far away to break out of them once and for all?<\/p>\n
Marilyn raises her eyebrows knowingly. \u201cYou\u2019re getting closer. Look how Arthur always cast himself as the cuckolder and then the cuckoldee, the idealist and then the betrayer. By the time he threw me at the celluloid cowboys, he really had no idea which end was up. (Something I never lost sight of by the way.) But give the man credit. Knowingly or not, he captured the way spirit informs flesh. Even when they tie you up for it.<\/p>\n
She sees Maslow shaking his head, trying to get it all straight. \u201cA little slow on the uptake again…Mr. Scribe?\u201d<\/p>\n
Before he can respond or defend himself, she returns to teacher mode, speaking slowly, distinctly, and now without condescension. She might as well be giving a lecture in a philosophy class or a sermon on the mount.<\/p>\n
\u201cMost humans realize that they play multiple roles throughout their lives. But they don\u2019t realize that, at the same time, multiple spirits are playing multiple roles through them. And the question is always the same\u2014can I stay on course, and remain true to my eternal self? So before you start running around and making a fool of yourself, my dear Scribe, by starting rumors that I was Helen of Troy or,<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u00a9 2021 David Blistein<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Waking the Dead \u2014 Marilyn Monroe 7<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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God-forbid, the blessed virgin I must warn you that little tidbit is barely the tip of the iceberg. After all, is it my fault that Jack ignored my Cassandra warnings?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhoa…whoa…\u201d Maslow thinks to himself, although he has learned by now that thinking to himself is like shouting out loud to these people. What had she warned Jack Kennedy about? She died a year before he was shot. She was just teasing him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhoa yourself…\u201d she answers with full pouty petulance. She retreats into herself, walking away from the timeline on the wall and right towards Maslow. It feels like she is looming over him as she suddenly starts screaming: \u201cSiege Troy. Blockade Cuba. You think these are the ravings of a mad woman? Hah! Pass the Nembutal, Chloral Hydrate, Champagne, and Vodka and I\u2019ll really start telling some truths! Ah, what the hell,\u201d she sighs now and shrugs, backing away, \u201cI don\u2019t need any sleeping aids where I am now…that\u2019s one of the many fringe benefits.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looks out the window at the chickadees joining their lead scout at the feeder. The image seems to cheer her up and she turns back to Maslow with a bright smile, as if remembering something she\u2019d been meaning to say:<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd how \u2018bout the lovely Lady Diana?\u201d She holds up one finger. \u201cShe appears on earth a year before I die…plenty of time for us to…uh…collaborate during her formative years.\u201d<\/p>\n
A second finger: \u201cHer mother was almost as absent as mine. Although at least she knew who the hell her father was. Unlike yours truly.\u201d<\/p>\n
Now a wink and a third finger. \u201cShe also had a face that could launch a thousand ships.\u201d<\/p>\n
Maslow pictures the young Diana. The smile that could embrace and transcend human lust. Millions of men\u2014who might not agree on anything else, were joined in their adoration of these women. Although, unfortunately, their love was anything but unconditional.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u00a9 2021 David Blistein<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Waking the Dead \u2014 Marilyn Monroe 8<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cBingo!\u201d she says encouragingly. \u201cBut you can\u2019t blame us for trying. It would help if you let us finish our jobs.<\/p>\n
She stops and looks at him quizzically, as if deciding how far she should go.<\/p>\n
At that moment, Maslow remembers her stop on the timeline at the station of the Cross. \u201cMary Magdalene,\u201d he says out loud.<\/p>\n
\u201cBingo,\u201d she says again, and with some unexpected kindness. \u201cSometimes it takes two to be one. So complicated for your poor little pea brain,\u201d she clucks sympathetically.<\/p>\n
She crosses her arms and holds up four fingers on both hands: \u201cOh, how hard we\u2019ve tried to dissolve the opposites: Troy and Greece, Jew and Christian, Washington and Russia, war and peace, love and sex, puritan and profligate, communism and democracy; the royalty and the people, the mythic and the human, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost! Hah! Achilles and Hector. Joe and Jack. Charles\u2014and legions of other men\u2014and their true natures.\u201d<\/p>\n
She grows grown manic again, but now stops and takes a deep breath. Making it very clear she can turn it on or off. She looks appreciatively at the dumbfounded look on Maslow\u2019s face and says: \u201cThat was a take wasn\u2019t it? Put that one in the can Mr. Huston!\u201d She giggles as a bright yellow male goldfinch lightly hits the window as if trying to reach her.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you know, by the way? It was shortly before our marriage…Arthur and I. We were driving down a twisting dirt road trying to escape from a French photographer and journalist. They crashed behind us, killing the journalist. Which, I thought, made Diana\u2019s exit a rather elegant touch. So many have died in pursuit of us.\u201d<\/p>\n
Maslow is stunned. The connection is obvious and eerie.
\u201cI\u2019ve still got it, don\u2019t I? See why they call us bombshells? Kaboom!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u00a9 2021 David Blistein<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Waking the Dead \u2014 Marilyn Monroe 9<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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And with that she is totally off and running again. The words pour forth in one furious deluge. Her voice rises and lowers, switches back and forth between determined seriousness and amphetamined leaps of faith. She no longer looks at Maslow, but rather paces the floor, throwing one arm towards the timeline and the other to the rapidly lightening indigo sky, dropping all pretense of her multiple personalities being anything less than one whole glorious spirit.<\/p>\n
\u201cRemember the rage of all women pouring out of me into the desert sky. The rage of women who have been abandoned, abused, and ignored. The rage of women who know that the wildest horses lie in the human heart. A rage so powerful, it could force those three wounded stars to finally choose themselves over a woman\u2014to look to themselves instead of me to find out who the hell they really are and what the hell they\u2019re really made of.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course, that was fiction.\u201d<\/p>\n
She calms down and looks right through Maslow. \u201cMe too?\u201d She says slowly. \u201cYou people have no idea.\u201d<\/p>\n
With that, she walks over to the door, flings it open dramatically, and steps out. A moment later, she turns back to Maslow and adds breathlessly: \u201cVenus is spectacular this morning,\u201d before disappearing into the dawn.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u00a9 2021 David Blistein<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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