Calling Madame Sosostris

The world isn't any weirder than it was, I guess. For today's post, I was doing a little research on some of the strange things I remember from childhood, things that seemed odd even then though I was in no position to protest any of it, things that I had to accept as part and parcel of the discomfort of existence. Midget Wrestling. There was something of the burlesque show about it, but occasionally and unexpectedly from time to time midget wrestlers would be a warm up match before the main event. Sometimes, too, they would show up on the television wrestling show, and I would watch in horror, really, not wanting to watch but unwilling to turn away. Even now, I am not one to judge such things. Little people have a right to wrestle. There isn't anything wrong with it, I guess, though I can't help feeling that I'm missing something obvious. The Little People Association called for a ban of it at one point, I read today, so I will follow their lead. I am guessing that there is no Redneck Association of America that finds wrestling offensive to a certain culture. There is a difference, I know. I'm not that dense. But I can't help feeling I am missing some small nuance.

Women wrestlers, too, creeped me out. Sorry. Again, I know. . . . But there, too, the whole sleazy burlesque thing seemed to creep in. I would need to do more research than the brief bit I've done today, and maybe I will. I would like to do a Cafe Selavy photo series, maybe, resurrecting it all in ju-ju Polacolor in my studio.

My hillbilly aunt dated a nice fellow who died in the past few years. Ronnie. He had lived a hard life of smoking and drinking and running around. He was from another world, one that I grew up around and in. He went to high school with my aunt, I think, long ago and far away in a little hillbilly town where many kids didn't have shoes to wear to school. I don't judge them. I can never know. I liked talking to Ronnie about his life. He had been a 'rounder. He had dated a female wrestler for years. Oh, the stories he told about that--I don't dare to record them here. But life is more like "Blue Velvet" than we like to admit.

I will consider making the series, but I first have to do the circus. And I've thought of a rodeo, too. I need more money and time to do it all.

But my immediate concern is simply getting through the day without harm. An ill wind is blowing, and I think I must duck and cover. Perhaps a visit to Madame Sosostris is in order. She reads a wicked deck of cards.