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  • Jimmy Broccoli

Blue Ribbons: The Hum of Perfection - The Buzz of Ambition [Freaks So Chic]

29 years ago I escaped from my self-chosen cocoon

To allow my body and mind to melt – to turn into goo –

To erase myself from who I was and to protect myself from others –

my silk self-spun web kept me safe – and the time within allowed me to change –

to become what I hadn’t been – what I was not –

to become who and what I wanted to be

 

I broke through my web - sticky, naked, and afraid –

I did not know how to accept my newly-formed wings –

I, initially, flapped them sloppily – and without skill or experience -

And did not understand how to present myself,

Now presenting magnificently (even if I flap them sloppily) -

with my new, multicolored (and beautiful) butterfly wings –

 

I was no longer the man I was before -

before I spun myself a web – and escaped within it –

for as long as I needed to –

long enough to begin to forget the man I was before

- to become something different – to become something better

 

My new wings flapped and they flapped and they flapped –

And they caught the attention of a photographer –

They caught his attention quickly

 

It was then I entered the world of porn

____

 

I opened my wings widely – allowing all of the debris from the incoming and violent and demanding winds to violate them –

to brush, uninvited, against them -

I allowed others to touch the colors upon my wings –

I allowed others to teach me how to fly

The magazine was released and the party ensued

I was a dead (and evolving) caterpillar – turned into a butterfly –

My dick hanging towards the floorboards as the camera lens focused –

and then it shot me –

 

Pages 15 -19 - me. The party continued –

Pink champagne on ice as the music pumps loudly in the VIP Room

Me in a tuxedo – me in a motherfucking tuxedo –

The epitome of class [how classy] -

I celebrated alongside other caterpillars who had recently become butterflies –

We spread ourselves – we spread our magnificent wings –

To become what we had not been before

We spread ourselves for others – to become what we had not been before

 

Autographs don’t sign themselves, so that is what I did

I spread my wings wide and allowed the world to enter

____

 

I sit on the uncomfortable and ridiculously upholstered long couch in my therapist’s office –

[throw-pillows placed within unequal distance from one another]

[if she could just wear an outfit that somewhat matches –

my OCD would greatly appreciate it – for real, though]

[I then distract myself from the mismatching garments and the fucking uneven throw pillows in order to remain focused and sane]

 

“Good afternoon” she says – and I notice her slip is showing slightly beneath her fashion-backwards paisley skirt -

“Good afternoon” I say, with a practiced former sex-worker’s smile

“What a lovely skirt”, I mention –

and she blushes red, like her face is the top circle of a traffic light

 

“I think I need to spin myself into another cocoon – a new cocoon”, I tell her

and she begins writing within her therapist notebook -

“I need to become something different – I need to become something better”, I continue,

as I present one leg at a 90-degree angle over the other because I am working on perfecting a more masculine and a more testosterone-influenced appearance while I sit in the presence of others

 

I painfully exhale as my tired, faded, and heavy wings rest themselves uneasily and uncomfortably against this lumpy (and ridiculous) couch –

they no longer appear brilliant metallic –

the confetti is no longer dropping upon the party floor at midnight –

there is no place for me to autograph my photos -

my muted wings are no longer shiny or worthy of attention

 

“Do you miss being a sex worker?”, she asks

And I tell her I do

as I sit upon a ridiculous couch that is decades younger than I am

____

 

My dick naturally hangs slightly to the right (only slightly) –

in my younger years I learned to mention this to the men who carried tape measures –

who measured my inner pants seams for high-end occasion slacks or other dress pants –

if it’s a formal occasion – it’s important the right side of my pants area allow a bit of extra room for my hanging dick …

and I’ve never understood this

 

The man measuring my fancy trousers brushes against my member very briefly with his hand (and then again – and then for a third time) so slightly I suspect it may be by accident –

This is the viewpoint I was taught -

This is the viewpoint I learned to live by –

This is the viewpoint I maintain so I don’t punch others in their fucking cock-violating faces

 

“In what way do you miss it?”, my therapist asks me –

as she sticks the tip of the filthy pen she is writing with temporarily into her mouth –

“I miss hating it”, I say

and she writes these words (or her reactions to them) into her therapist notebook –

and I wonder what it must be like to have to listen to the rambling retellings of a former sex-worker –

with wings less vibrant and colorful than they were in previous years

 

“I want to spin a new cocoon”, I interrupt

because she is writing for far too long for the little bit I’ve said

“I very much want to become something different –

I very much want to become something better”, I say

____

 

[Scene change]

 

The man sitting in the chair across from me does not write anything down as I tell him about my goals

- he looks at me in a way not much different than people look at animals who are trapped in cages –

“Do you really want to change?” he asks me, as his bulging and ridiculous muscles and toned body attempt to break-out of his too-tight (and very unprofessional – if I may say) shirt

“Yeah, I think so”, I hesitantly reply as the alcoholic devil on my right shoulder pokes my right ear with his pitchfork in disagreement

 

40 grams of protein 4 times a day

Frozen bananas and wild frozen blueberries –

and pumpkin seeds and almond milk –

and a TON (12, to be exact) of added supplements daily because I’m a stubborn vegan –

“and, you’ll need to join the gym immediately”, he tells me -

- and I will need to “decrease my alcohol intake”

 

What the fuck?

 

I need to decrease my alcohol intake (?) …

I need to decrease my alcohol intake (?) …

(I hesitate – as I remain seated – though the devil on my shoulder tells me to bolt – to fucking leave right now – RIGHT NOW!) …

and I, painfully, do not leave

 

12 additional daily supplements to get my body and metabolism back to “normal” [to healthy]

I’m ordering shit off Amazon I’ve never heard of –

Gaba and taurine and creatine – and a blender that pulsates at 1200 watts –

so the fucking ice for protein smoothies can be destroyed in record time –

and I don’t know what the fuck any of this means

 

“Do you want to change?”, my new nutritionist asks me a second time –

because he notices I didn’t answer him the first time he asked …

“Are you willing to change?” –

and I notice he isn’t asking me for my autograph –

he isn’t asking me for a copy of my latest book –

 

“Do you want to change?”, he asks for a third time –

realizing I have not answered because I’m struggling –

because I do not know the answer that is the right answer

 

“40 grams of protein – 4 times a day?”, I reply

“in a blender with wild blueberries [or strawberries – or motherfucking mangos, for fucks sake], almond milk, frozen bananas, pumpkin seeds, and a splash of agave nectar for sweetness

and I join the motherfucking neighborhood gym immediately – like tomorrow morning”,

and then I shake my head up and down, reluctantly, to let him know I understand

 

Does he not know or understand I grew up punk? It is who I was – it is who I am – and why the fuck would I want to be anything different than that?

 

He looks at me seriously – and I am familiar with this look. He’s looking at me wondering if I truly want to change or if I will choose to slowly die

(multi-decade alcoholism is unattractive – but, it is habit)

[and I don’t fucking yet know which way I wish to decide]

 

“Fucking hell”, I say as unwanted tears involuntarily well up in my eyes.

[my wings were once brilliant – and multicolored -and magnificent –

do you want me to autograph that photo of my low-hanging dick for you?]

I feel as though I may cry-out every insecurity and reluctance I’ve held onto for years –

and I might cry it all out right fucking now –

at this very fucking moment …

____

 

– and he replies - “yeah, I know”


Photo: Jimmy Broccoli.



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