The Lucidity of Love
This is about the Lucidity of Love
This blog post is about the second book in my two-part series. I call it “The Lucidity of Love.” It continues the work I did in my first life story, memoirs or autobiography. The first book is “The Invisible Mitzvah,” the beginning of my ghostwriting memoirs. If these two books prove somewhat popular, I will write more such books.
Maybe, even if they do not sell. I’m intrigued and I’m writing my memoirs, life story or autobiography series. It’s good practice for a continuing career of editing your work into shape, and it keeps me thinking on my feet. I am considering mounting a marketing campaign for my memoirs, if I set aside the funds for it.
What is the Lucidity of Love without funding?
What can I say about this book? I’m still working on it, although I self published. I maintain all creative control over its process that way. I’m able to rewrite and republish it as I go. Rather than giving a traditional publisher all the rights, responsibilities and power over the publishing process. I’m publishing my memoirs series on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, Kobo and a host of other Internet sites. Such as Apple Books and Google Books, where other people mostly make the money from them. One aspect of the lucidity of love is to realize other people are out there. In addition to this, they need to make money.
I’m okay on that, I have other income. From my husband, and from my career as a ghostwriter. So it is working out well enough for me. I’m not the greedy type, and nothing buys our love for each other. We go out whenever we want, and my life is deep, full and rich. Like a cup of excellent Starbucks coffee, like a suddenly clear warm Spring day. We drove out to Beacon Hill to the Filipino grocery today and had a ball. The lucidity of love is that my second husband and I know what love is. An attempt to remain alive together – until the end of time.
Preface to The Lucidity of Love
Now that I’m settled, I must reflect on my past as a happy-go-lucky single. How can I forget the many times I’ve misled myself into a man’s loving arms, and how much I loved every minute of it? Why, I squirm as if caught in a velvet trap…well, I could, but my second husband is standing right behind me and might ask me what I’m sitting on.
I loved my first husband, a wonderfully funny Jew whose parents had fled the Holocaust as kids. After a dozen roller-coaster relationships before my first real commitment, he was the only man I ever truly loved (Remerio, don’t look over my shoulder!) Anyway, several years and sanity-defying relationships later, I landed in a seat in front of Him 2 in a Certified Nurse Aide class, next to a perking coffee pot.
My first husband thought he lucked out marrying his attendant. Gary was dying. I fell in love with his stubborn courage. He was the first person who ever needed me. After he died, I had a tragically brief affair. If I write about everything that happened, it’ll make an excellent trashy novel.
Remerio stopped my new single life cold by kicking the back of my chair-HARD!
He distracted me from talking to a middle-aged black lady, catching me in the middle of sniffling at her. I had a head cold. I’d been “taking it out” on Grace, who was overweight, casting her sidelong glances and sniffing loudly, while considering fetching her a cup of coffee. The pot was brewing close to me. It would’ve been hard for her to squeeze between the plastic seats. I began getting her coffee.
Sometimes I added creamer. I stirred it with the plastic stir sticks. She would ask me to add a sugar packet, please. But our relationship was rudely interrupted by the entrance of Remerio’s foot through the back of my plastic chair. Turning around after the “kick-off,” I faced a flatly Filipino cold stare. The face, however, reminded me of a Middle-Eastern teacher I’d noticed at Ohio University, back in the 1970s.
I gulped, “So how’re you doing?” My Mom told me to be friendly to handsome strangers. And then Remerio smiled back. We got married, and near Christmas day three years later we were blessed by our Princess Angela, nut-brown as her Daddy and sporting my chipmunk cheekbones. I guess I’d suggest more single ladies try sniffling at people to see whose attention they attract. If so, it helps if you fetch cups of coffee. It soothes people’s tired, ruffled feathers.
Be sure and add cream and sugar.
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