Greetings, hepcats and hepkittens, it's your old pal Phil Richards subbing once again for his ailing sister. You already know how Anne found her and how shocked we all were at how quickly she'd deteriorated on her own. What she only hinted at was the precautions the friendly folks at the CMH are taking to make sure she doesn't go walkabout (as Bill Patterson would say) any more; not only have they got someone more vigilant at the security desk, they fitted her with an ankle bracelet that'll go off the second she leaves the place. She won't really have time to bite through it or bite off her own leg or however the Hell she plans on being anonymous this time; if (or perhaps when) she tries, Doc Walby says that the next step is what she calls fitting her for an enhanced containment garment as she's put in a secure room (strait-jacket and padded cell) for the duration of her treatment. Given El's dedication to living in the past, she's making it hard to help her or to especially care. Not, of course, that everyone in Milborough sees it that way; Connie is taking what happened to Elly and making it all about her. Connie's simpering about how the halfway house that Georgia, John and I have arranged for El so she can make a smooth transition into some kind of life isn't good enough because it isolates her really means that she doesn't want to see that being in Milborough is the last thing Elly needs. That sort of thought, you see, leads to thinking that being in Milborough wasn't what she herself needed; as long as she can rant about how Elly is being jerked around, she can distract herself from having to face the symphony of failure that is her life. Twas not I, after all, who encouraged her to make a fool of herself by chasing after me twenty-nine years ago despite someone's hypocritical ranting about how I, as a musician, needed to grow up. Perhaps after Elly finally gets better, she'll finally let go of the past and see that the world isn't trying to keep her on her knees; if that happens, she might just call someone on her nonsense.
As for what madness leaves behind, John is bearing up a little better than he deserves; not only was he the ugliest person I ever slept with (HA!!), his cloddish hatefulness led to this chaos. It sort of serves him right that he's only figuring out who he was married to when it's likely that she won't be a part of his life any more just as it's sort of appropriate that his children not be too impressed by his ratting out some accountant for some sort of land deal. On the drive home from the halfway house, I asked him about the one thing he said that bugged me the most: his (and Elly's) odd belief that the kids owed them every penny they spent raising them; I mean, this is a guy who thinks nothing on spending thousands of dollars on a toy for himself but he has to make his kids act like they're the inmates of a Victorian poorhouse or his employees or some such nonsense. His answer was not especially edifying; since he had to go without unless he worked for it as a kid, he'd assumed that that was the way of the world. Never you mind that his dad said "Idiot!! That's because I was working for minimum wage most of my life! You're a dentist!! You could have cracked open your damned wallet!!" when we IMed the Patter-elders and Cruikshanks to handle the big foul-up with Laura. That's just another thing that he won't apologize for because he can't unsay it despite allowing as it's messed up. Ah, well; at least Doctor Ted and Anthony are there to make sure he doesn't turn into a hermit.
As for me, I'm on tour over the Holidays with a jazz combo for charity so I need to rehearse, not rehash. Catch you on the flipside and have a cool Yule.
Yours,
Phil.
