mia loves henry miller
Letter 23 – Lady M Erotica, The Downfall, Liberated by Death
“Always we are led back to the heart. It is there that everything is determined. A community must be organized around the heart, otherwise, no matter how rational the theory, how stout the principle, it will fall apart. This is the true theater of operation: the heart. What happens outside in the world, as they say, is only the echo of the passion play which goes on in the soul of every individual.” —Henry Miller, Remember to Remember
1/4/12 1:34 p.m.
Dear Henry Miller,
It’s hard to believe that I’ve been writing to you consistently for one month. I’m at the beginning of letter 23. I never thought that I would get this far. Somehow I am fueled to write to you, instead of resting and watching television, recuperating from our big New Year’s Eve Burlesque Show. I will most likely work on the mural project on Friday. I need to start working consistently on this project, now that the holidays are over.
Once upon a time, many years ago, I used to have an erotic web site, called LadyMerotica.com inspired by Jamie Joy Gatto and MindCaviar.com. Mr. C and I were newlyweds, living at our five bedroom farm house. Mr. C was newly unemployed. I had a family of five to think about. I didn’t receive financial help from my ex-husband, nor did we get any financial help for Mr. C’s son from his ex-wife. I felt that I could make a substantial income to provide for my family, with this classy, adult web site.
“If we could all go on strike and honestly disavow all interest in what our neighbor is doing we might get a new lease on life. This is a pipe dream I know. People only go on strike for better working conditions, better wages, better opportunities to become something other than they are.” –Henry Miller, the Colossus of Maroussi
Unfortunately, any new business takes time to build. When I was at my height with my web site, gaining popularity, members, income, etc…something awful happened. Mr. C’s ex-wife’s family found my web site, printed copies of numerous pages online, and mailed them to my mother in–law! My elderly Mother in-law, who was nearly the same age as my paternal grandmother. The next thing I knew, Mr. C’s angry, pissed off mother was knocking on my door, with many Xeroxed, kinky, yet classy pictures of me, and erotic diary entries from my web site in her tightly gripped hands.
This was the first time I had ever encountered such an angry confrontation with her. I’m thankful that I chose to remain silent for most of my chastising from Mr. C’s mom. I did say a few things…but it was so long ago…I don’t even remember the words that were said. It wouldn’t be so bad if my sexual preferences were tame and vanilla. But, oh no, I have to be the kinky, freaky girl, one should never bring home to mother!
I was one of the main people taking care of a young, teenage boy who wasn’t of my blood, and two children of my own. I didn’t mind parenting my stepson – I love him dearly. However, what bothered me about this situation was that my stepson’s blood relatives and mother, who were the evil culprits of this fiasco, chose to do nothing financially positive for my stepson. Actually, they did not do much for him at all – no help with school clothes or school supplies, rides to and from school, lunch tickets, etc…
His mother was unfortunately messed up with drugs and alcohol at this time in her life. The rest of the family avoided both Mr. C’s son and daughter like the plague, because their mother was so messed up. They blamed the kids for the sins of their mother. My stepson did have an Aunt who would do what she could for him, every once in awhile, on a consistent basis. I was appreciative of her help when it happened.
I love my stepson as if he was my own. I have been one of the adults in his life responsible for feeding him, parenting him, monitoring him, loving him, empathizing with him, advising him, and protecting him. Back then, when the downfall began, I was doing anything I could to help my family stay afloat with as much dignity as possible, while they were ridiculing me about my lifestyle, perversions, passions, my erotic writing, my adult web site, and my sexuality. If they would have spent as much time as they did with trying to bring me down, into positive, loving energy towards their blood relatives, meaning my step daughter and step son, their time would’ve been better spent.
Regardless of how I provided for my family, even with a limited income, I did everything I could to put good, hot food on the table, provide a consistent safe environment, provide shelter over my children’s heads in a safe neighborhood with a nice home, clean, clothes on their backs, lunch tickets, school expenses, sports, weekend family entertainment, and other necessities. I worked my ass off back then. I never sat still. Today, I still work hard for my family. I’m a natural mother – I do what I have to do, to make sure we, as a family unit, survive in this fast paced world.
“I think when you suffer somewhere and you can’t escape, you begin to accept the situation and then you find marvelous things in it. So in the midst of my poverty and suffering and all that, I really discovered Paris, and the true French spirit and everything. And got to love it. Of course that’s a hard thing to understand – how can you enjoy being right down to the very bottom? And that’s the most important thing that ever happened to me…” –Henry Miller, This is Henry, Henry Miller from Brooklyn
Out of respect for Mr. C’s mother, I took down my erotic web site. This was hard to do because of all my time, my energy, my creativity, my huge amounts of promotional work, etc.., which I had put into my web site. MJ was soaring with her web site, which was initially a branch off from my web site, which began many months before hers. It made me a bit sad to see MJ move so quickly forward, while I had to tear down something I carefully created, and start again with something new. I was happy for MJ, but it hurt to turn my back on something I felt very passionate about. I knew that I would use my unfortunate obstacle and circumstances to my advantage, permitting the frustrated energy I felt about it to refuel my dreams in another direction. I would survive!
“To be without anything, no crutch of any kind. Cut off completely from any help, and to have to find it every day, this help to live from day to day. This is a very good thing, you know. you suffer, sure. You’re miserable. But it’s so interesting, it’s so fascinating, you’re so thoroughly alive, when you do that…” –Henry Miller, This is Henry, Henry Miller from Brooklyn
Mr. C’s mother didn’t talk to her son or me, for many months. I kept my silence. Regardless of how much I wanted to defend my point of view to Mr. C’s mother, I didn’t. Regardless of how much I wanted to express my anger towards my stepson’s mother and her family – I said nothing. My mother in-law and I eventually mended our relationship – putting everything in the past and moving forward. Our relationship was never tense after that. We never spoke another word about my web site or our confrontation. We just moved onward as if nothing ever happened. She was a tough ass woman who died around this time of month, last year. She was quite the woman – very strong and determined. I loved and admired her. I never spoke again to Mr. C’s ex-wife’s family.
“For genius is, after all, the ability to deliver oneself from the circumstances in which one is enmeshed, the ability to free oneself from the vicious circle.” –Henry Miller, The Books in My Life
I wasn’t very sexually liberated, until I met Mr. C. I lived in a self-made prison made from fear, distrust and shame. I had come from a difficult past. I had emotional baggage from previous sexual abuse as a very young child, rape as a teenager, and an oversexed pig for a first husband. So, being able to conquer all of that darkness through being an erotic writer, an erotic model, a performance artist, Bondage A-Go-Go dancer, and an erotic artist, was like spitting in the past’s face. It was like slaying a huge, red eyed demon. I conquered an enormous fear and a very large obstacle in my life. I was finally liberated. It’s been extremely healing. No amount of therapy could give me that.
“If it weren’t for the constant struggle on the part of a few creative types to expand the sense of reality in man, the world would literally die out. We are not kept alive by legislators and militarists… We are kept alive by men of faith, men of vision.” –Henry Miller, The Air Conditioned Nightmare
It means something so much deeper than the dollar, for being as open as I am in these letters to you via blog, my previous diary entries with MindCaviar.com, and my past erotic web site – although, I’m anticipating money to come from my dedication and efforts. I’m writing these letters so diligently, to financially continue on with my burlesque show, to financially build my dreams as an artist, to be capable of financially helping my children when they need it, and to financially afford to travel and experience the world. I expect to profit from all of my hard work. But, I know, deep within, that I am receiving more than financial gain. I am being liberated as a woman from my own insecurities, fears, and emotional baggage by writing so candidly about my life. By doing this, I am claiming my right to enjoy my sexuality as a woman and to be open about it – without shame or regret. I have lived far too long with shame and regret. It makes my life dark and miserable. I’d rather not live in that kind of world.
“Twice in his early years, Miller later said, he wanted to die: once at the age of eight, and once when he was in his early twenties. In 1915, at twenty-three, he believed himself an utter failure. His life was chaos, the most telling symptoms of which were disappointments, failures, and debts. The tailor shop claimed his days, and he was still involved with Pauline; as he saw it, he was attached to her body “like a tick to a cow.” He had vague yearnings to be a writer, encouraged by the examples of his father’s customers Boardman Robinson and Frank Harris. Robinson was a popular illustrator who also had a newspaper column; Henry visited his studio one day to ask him how one went about writing. Robinson’s response was that as far as he knew, you just wrote.” –Mary V. Dearborn, Happiest Man Alive, biography of Henry Miller
I have had you in my head, Henry, for over ten years. The idea of writing a book which consists of my erotic letters written to you has been deeply seeded in my mind, heart and soul, for a very long time. But, you didn’t come alone, you came with many lovers and many friends, like Anais Nin, Lawrence Durrell, Emil White, Hoki Tokunda, Brenda Venus, and Erica Jong, who I have thoroughly enjoyed learning about over the years through books or letters you have written, or the books that have been written about you by other authors. I’ve attempted so many times to write these letters to you, but, the inspiration and creative flow was never there, until now. Maybe, on a subconscious level, I waited until Mr. C’s mother passed away, so I could feel no regrets or remorse as I type.
“When I was young, I would be exultant one day and depressed the next. In later life from the middle forties on, I was on a more serene level.” –Henry Miller, My Life and Times
I honestly don’t give a shit what Mr. C’s ex-wife’s family think about what I do with my life now. I’m completely free to be me. I no longer have young children living at home. I no longer have to walk on egg shells around my mother in-law. I’m also much wiser in age, which aids in telling my story from a different perspective. I’m glad that I have waited. But, I’m also happy the time is now. I’m compelled to tell you everything I can about the story of my intriguing, erotic, passionate life. I find myself in my quiet living room, with the television turned off and my fingers delightfully dancing over my computer keyboard, deep in the zone. The click-clacks of my fingers floating over overused keys sound like music to my ears. It’s so nice to be writing again. I can’t seem to stop the creative flow.
I’m so grateful for your inspiration – it awakens me – gives me a sense of purpose, and it liberates me more as a woman.
“The wise man, the holy man, the true scholar learns as much from the criminal, the beggar, the whore, as he does from the saint, the teacher, or the Good Book.” –Henry Miller, The Books in My Life