One More Stop
Twenty years after her mother’s death, Loli Greene is hired by an almost bankrupt theater company to travel across the US to teach tired, toxic teenagers to tap into their creative unconscious, so that they might better understand their world at large and the world of their ancestors.
During her challenging travels, Loli taps into her world at large only to uncover secrets about her past that change her imperfect present into what might become her most perfect future. While teaching in a town in the Midwest, she meets a mother and a daughter whose lives she transforms, and whose love transforms her.
A raunchy, always entertaining book, Loli finally figures out how to navigate her untidy life.
Molly Malone (New Directions)
I remember, as a young child, I would sit on the pink piano bench, gazing at my mother’s fingertips as they traveled over the black and white keys of our Baldwin acrosonic piano. She played a lyrical Irish folk song over and over again. The first few lines go something like this…
In Dublin’s fair city
‘Sing my pretty baby.’
Where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone.
From the air, Nebraska looks like a dark brown on light brown farmers’ chessboard. In this country, in fact, it is the crop growers and grain givers who feed us and keep us alive. They are a dying breed. Their children cannot wait to get away from the cow dung and the prairie mentality.
When you arrive in Nebraska, you sense the dying-off of the farmer and his glory times. Archer Daniels Midland, the giant agricultural corporation, is no replacement for the real thing.
Before I arrived, all I knew about Nebraska was that Willa Cather, a gifted and prolific writer, grew up there. I know she eventually worked elsewhere; even though she apparently loved Nebraska, she couldn’t wait to get the hell away. Yet Warren Buffet, a very successful businessman, has remained in Nebraska for most of his life. What attracts one person repels another. What is acceptable to some is rejected by many. It is both challenging and difficult to be in the minority, especially when the majority rules or shall I say makes the rules.
Populated Area: Drive With Caution ‘84
‘Birds do it
Bees do it
Even educated fleas do it
Let’s do it
Let’s fall in love.’
Let’s talk about Simone. Twenty years is a long time to be uncommitted to the same person.
My unquenchable thirst for learning life’s hidden meanings led me hither, dither and beyond. I read volumes on the ascended masters, the philosophy of yoga, theosophy, the Tarot, breath work, death work, Hinduism, Buddhism, women saints, reincarnation, marcobiotic cookery, Zen meditation, astrology, herbology, psychology, Sanskrit, Edgar Cayce’s writing, shamanic studies, Mayan mysteries, this book on the dead, that book on the living, other books on dying (skimmed those), the I Ching, angels (lovely departure from demons) and wounded women.
My eyes were weary from the fine print of being. Then, one day, on Melrose Avenue, while perusing the shelves at the Bodhi Tree, I came across the title to supersede all titles Sexual Energy and Yoga.
At Dina’s suggestion, I had already begun practicing yoga, Up Dog, Down Dog, Sun Salutation, Paschi, Pachi, Pashi… Oh hell, seated forward fold, back bends, head stands, hand stands, but Sexual Energy!
I went to class and socialized. Met married men, single girls, jocks, babes, gays, straights. Sure, I did some deep breathing. But, mostly I was engaged in my desire mind. The LA Yoga Center became my singles bar.
Maggie takes her hand and places it on my heart. ‘Your heart is racing.’ ‘You should hear my mind.’ ‘Shh,’ says she. ‘Shh.’ She touches my lips with her fingers. I see my mother’s fingers on the black and white keys. I close my eyes. She kisses me. I kiss her back. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she says. I say, ‘I do.’ But I am not so sure… I do. Never been sure in matters that matter. Never.
We make our way through the rubble to the bed, undress ourselves, undress each other, explore. I explore Maggie Malone. She explores me. One stop at a time. Journey into each other; touch skin, smell skin, walk skin, ride skin, swallow sweet sour juices, breathe her, breathe me, taste her, taste me, devour me, devour her, mouths open, tongues deep inside, longing travelers, long, slow, wet roadways, slippery shoulders, fingers fucking, sucking, blind curves, nails dig trenches, tits hard, spread wide prairies, wild rivers, mouth to mouth, mouth to nipple, mouths, tongues, clits expand, contract, open, close, hard, inside, backside, tongue up ass, roll over, easy, hold, release, coming, home, take me, home, one more stop, one more stop. Hold. Stop. Again. Once more. Don’t stop. Stop! Breath. Can’t breathe! Can’t… Help! Help! ‘Help’ I scream. Maggie’s startled. ‘What’s wrong? Loli! What’s the matter?’ She takes me in her arms; rocks me back and forth… back and forth. I barely get the words out. Gasping. ‘Can’t breathe. Asthma. Can’t… Water, please…’
‘Thank you, Ms Withers… What if you are not who you think you are? What happens if how you define yourself is no longer your story? Your parents aren’t your parents? Your sister isn’t your…’ Uh oh… What have I done? A young boy raises his hand. He is no longer a forehead. He is an entire face with neck attached. Things are looking up. ‘Yes. What’s your name?’
‘Clarence Darnell The Third.’
‘If you don’t mind me sayin’ so, miss, I don’t need to do the exercise.’
‘Why is that Clarence?’
‘Well you see, miss, my mother lives upstairs from my father and me. She lives with my uncle, who is now married to my mother, so he’s my father too. My sister lives with my uncle’s son. They’re living in my apartment. My sister is fourteen. She just had a baby girl. So, now I’m an uncle. My father’s married my mother’s sister… so I think my mother’s sister is now my mother. My father and his new wife, my mother’s sister, and her two kids live in our apartment. So, now my cousins are my brother and sister. You see, miss, I can’t de-fine myself by who my mother, father, sister or anyone is. It’s too confusin’.’