Peckerwood Manor

Once I made the decision to write for Peckerwood I promised myself I would try to be lighthearted about a lot of subjects, reveal some personal things relating to celebrities and use the inside stuff I learn from time to time to share with you. I thought it was the least I could offer our little corner of the world. Most of you I have known for 7 years, others less, and some are new, but one thing that holds true for me is how important certain stories are and how they can pull back the curtains on the world of entertainment where everything is not as it seems.  We see these people spit-shined and spun into cotton candy, but it is a world not built for the weak, sensitive, gullible, kind, trusting, very young, or those without street smarts. It can grind and chew people up and toss their mangled dreams and corpses into the gutters of LA and New York City, and the public forgets them as soon as their 10 minutes are up. 15 if they are lucky. I am one of those who learned the hard way, an

The Woman In Me is explosive. It is like dynamite, and a grenade had a baby and was launched into the atmosphere, illuminating some things that filled in  some  holes that were question marks while leaving others totally unanswered. The childhood portion was too long, and I sped through it, pausing at the eyebrow-raising parts, skipping over some descriptive parts, and finally switching to the audiobook. If I won't read Ernest Hemingway because I hate how fucking long he takes to get to the main point, I am not going to read through her talking about lying on warm rocks. His books are torturous for me, so I finally stopped, hitting the big titles and skipping others, but this was easy and short to listen to while doing other things.  It is an example of her telling her story and me reading between the lines. I begged to differ; ma'am, in some sections, she can get dreamy and escapist sometimes in others, like someone who is never really in reality and spends time in fugue state