Mar 03 2008
The Gem
At Jackson Square I was bragging to my friend, the phantom artist, about my two thousand dollar platinum and sapphire ring, which I traded a great painting for it from Nancy. It is her ex-wedding ring. The phantom joked around saying, “If you ever get held up they’re sure to miss it. Looks like you got it at the bead shop.” It’s my King ring, a symbol of my achievement, self proclaimed rule. Everyone needs to be the king of their self.
I hopped on the street car and cruzed up to La Boulangerie were I bought a baguette that would soon become part of a Kings sandwich. Exiting the shop I thought about my Queen in California, Amanda, hopping that she would forgive for breaking the law of the foreign land by mentally raping her in an early morning conversation. Heading back to the my chambers I was skillfully maneuvering my longboard on challenging New Orleans sidewalks. I approached a section that was impossible to traverse. A couple was walking out of a shop and watched me dismount my deck. They said, “We would have been really impressed if you would have been able to make it over that rough patch.” I replied, “There’s some things I just can’t do.” A few clicks down I got back on my board and kicked off. At the very next, quote unquote, side walk ramp I took a header right onto the pavement. The couple looked very concerned for my well being but they had nothing to worry about. I am a master at falling. I got up brushed off the dirt and started laughing. I asked them, “Did that impress you?” They joined my laughter and my pride remained strong.
Back at the Den I told my friend Nancy that I was depressed because Amanda was avoiding me but that I was still confident she would come around. Nancy wanted me to go with her to pick up some things from the store and I was more than happy to drive. At Pier One she made a startling discovery on my hand. The sapphire in my kings ring was missing. Upon further inspection we deduced that it was dislodged during my fall. We drove back to the location of the fall sight. She revealed an unjustified attachment to the gem and to make it more weird for her, the day would have been her 8th wedding anniversary.
We spent the next hour scouring the concrete looking for a thousand dollar cut stone. I was disappointed not finding it but rationalized that had I to chose losing the stone or the Neo Ray Bans I was wearing, I would have chosen the stone. I’m an Imperadør now, after all. I gave the ground one more look as I searched for the carved gem. Amanda called.
“an unjustified attachment to the gem”
I take exception to the word unjustified. It was just sad as it really was a beautiful ring. I thought it was going to a good home; now it is just gone. It was not about the person that gave it to me, but what it represented.
Ultimately it represented a huge failure of judgment on my part with regard to my hideous marriage, but that was not the fault of the ring or mine. The ring deserved a better fate as did I.
wow, that is the first time i’ve ever seen those two words juxtaposed…..hideous marriage…..be glad you escaped, nancy.
speaking of hideous marriages, somebody in new orleans needs to write the ballad of zack and addie
I agree. Not to mention that they lived over a voodoo store. That certainly was one of the Top nasty stories of last year. The week before he jumped off the roof of the Omni Royal Orleans I was attending a pool party there. I am surprised that he did not fall through the bottom roof and take out some of the hotel guests.
Can you imagine chopping up someone and boiling them in a pot? BARF EWEWEE. A friend of mine contends that it is all about the voodoo shop, and a demon had to have possessed him. Makes perfect sense to me
I would rather believe on the devil did it than someone who is supposed to love you could become crazy over night and chop you up and eat you with out anyone else seeming to know there was anything up.
All in all at least I can say that no one tried to chop me into bits and eat me, so Hideous might be a strong word. Miserable, controlling bastard religious zealot hypocrite ass might describe my ex- husband and my marriage - which still equates to hideous on many levels.
I did like the ring though…it might have been the best thing about the marriage.
Nancy - minus the zealot part, I’m starting to think we married the same guy.
Were either one of them gun dealers?