"I'm Just The Worst Little Buddhist In Town"

That title is a quote from Cher which I found in the Vanity Fair magazine last night. Cher is endlessly fascinating to me. I actually went to see her on one of her "final" tours some years back (thanks, Ms. Fleur!) and although it was quite the experience, it wasn't as much fun, somehow, as it was back in the olden days to get stoned and watch The Sonny And Cher Show.

Different realities and sometimes the least real is the most pleasant.
I think you know what I mean.

She looked amazing at that concert but still- there was something off-putting about it. She looked a little like a grandmother wearing her old show-girl costumes and you know that if your grandmother came out of her bedroom wearing one of those things you'd be like, "Oh, for god's sake, Grandma, have some fucking dignity!"

Just because you CAN do something, doesn't really mean you should.

BUT, hell, Cher is Cher and her grandmother just died recently so you know she's going to live forever and she'll be wearing feathers and a g-string up until the end (whoa! now there's an unintended pun!) and people will be paying the big bucks to see her do so.

Cher and Meryl Streep are good friends which is sort of surprising. They met when they did the movie Silkwood together and if you've never seen that movie, you should. It's a good one. The other night Mr. Moon and I watched It's Complicated with Ms. Streep and Alec Baldwin (don't you always think it's Alex? I do) and it was a sweet movie and Meryl is getting older but she's still gorgeous and that face- oh- that lovely face. There's an intelligence in that face that knocks me out and a beauty that is forever true. It's such a different sort of beauty than Cher's.
I find it hysterical that they're good friends. They seem so different and I'm sure they are.
But they're both mothers and they both love their children and seem to be proud of them, although it seems like Cher is having some difficulty with Chaz's transgendering. She still claims he's a lesbian and as I've said before- get over it, Cher! Men can't be lesbians!

Okay. I'm babbling.
Good morning.
The sun is out, I called the doctor. I have an appointment for tomorrow. Tomorrow! Jesus!

I took the pictures of the huge oak tree out front this morning because it was calling me. I love how the bark of it reminds me of an old elephant's skin.

Rather wrinkled and almost baggy in a frozen-in-time way and yet- beautiful and interesting in a way that a young, smooth tree just is not.

Too bad humans are not regarded with the same eye for beauty as trees.

Sigh.

Cher wouldn't have to keep getting plastic surgery and she wouldn't have to keep getting back into those fishnets either because she'd know that an old face can be as beautiful as a young one and a surgically rearranged and tightened face looks...surgically rearranged and tightened.
But, hell, as Cher said in the article, she could get her tits put on her back and it's no one's business but her own.
And some women are like Cher, and yes, Lady Gaga, too, who famously wore a meat dress

and some women are like Meryl Streep and they can all get along, and we can all see the beauty in their differences, their own definition of who and what they are.
It's complicated.

Well, here's another picture of the oak tree.

That's my reality this morning and yet, I am fascinated by Cher and I respect her and I can still see her beauty, as enhanced and rearranged as it's been.

I'm sorry. I'm too old to see Lady Gaga's beauty but I'll trust whoever tells me it's there.
(Meat hat? Meat purse?)

It's a big world and there's room for all sorts of beauty, that which shines and sparkles, that which simmers quietly, that which is not apparent at first glance but which, upon noticing, you can't keep your eyes off of.

I'm just happy to be here, observing it all, being amused and awed, and wondering where I fit in the whole picture. No answers today but I'll bet you this- I'll bet I'm the only blogger in the world today who posted about Cher AND oak trees.

Well. Maybe. Maybe not.

I'm as unique as you are and we are as unique as everyone else in what and how we think, how we look and feel, how we perceive this world and its amazing and mysterious ways.

And as long as Vegas pays Cher millions and millions to do a show, she'll be doing it, and there's something comforting in that. Not as comforting to me, personally, as that oak tree out front, but still, comforting.

Some of us are more unique than others.
You can quote me on that.

Love...Ms. Moon

Cher, Darlin'. Let's Talk.

She's sixty-two.
Now. Is this get-up a beautiful and wicked fuck you to all the ageists?
Or is it....hmmm, slightly bizarre and freaky?
Or is it just damn wrong?
I'm having a hard time deciding. Part of me wants to say, "You go, girl!"
And part of me wants to say, "Oh, honey. Give it a rest."
I just keep thinking about all the surgery, the make-up, the wigs, the effort entailed in her being able to put this on and go onstage. I think about what she must look like after the wig is off, the make-up washed from her face and the body-suit and leather jacket stored in their trunk. Does she put on an old kimono, her real face tired and wrinkled and sit down to a nice bowl of Fiber One?
I remember years and years ago I would get really stoned and watch the Sonny and Cher Show and I would be mesmerized by the beauty that was Cher. Her face was all angles and big nose and cheekbones and she laughed at herself and there was so much realness there.

Well. I do know this- I'm pretty glad I don't get stoned anymore.

But what do you think? Daddy Billy, I especially want to hear your thoughts although there is the serious possibility that you will be so stunned with delight that you won't be able to type, so drunk with joy that you won't be able to copy your verification word. So joyous of heart that you'll find yourself floating on the ceiling, a goofy grin on your face, your beautiful real face.

Give It A Rest

So my daughter Lily was over the other night and we had dinner ready and were waiting on the men to come in from hunting to eat and I settled on the couch with some embroidery and was flipping through the forty thousand channels to see if there was anything on and yep, there was Larry King (how old IS that man?) with a hot show.

He had Oprah's personal trainer, personal doctor and personal spiritual expert in the house.
Yes. That's what it said. Her spiritual expert.

That's a picture of the guy, whose name is Michael Beckwith although he looked even creepier on Larry King. In fact, Lily kept saying, "He looks like someone on Star Trek. He's scaring me, Mommy."

But the point is, these three men, led by Larry, were discussing the world-shaking news that Oprah has gained weight again!

No. Tell us it isn't so.

But yes, yes she has. She's ballooned up to 200 pounds again and she's ashamed and her entire life has no meaning because she's fat!

Look. I'm not making this up. Although Oprah herself was not there on the show, there were many interviews with her and magazine covers and so on and so forth where she discussed, once again, her struggles with weight.

Now listen- I am not making fun of Oprah's or anyone else's struggles with weight. Been there, done that, worked with hundreds of others struggling with their weight. I have compassion.

And I understand that Oprah's weight is a topic which fascinates and captivates the entire world. And I understand that it sells advertising time on television and magazines and is probably responsible for about one-quarter of the total income of the vast Oprah Empire and has made more than a few chefs, personal trainers and Spiritual Experts rich and famous but this is getting out of hand.

What tore it for me was when these four men were discussing Oprah's appearance with Tina Turner and Cher in Las Vegas and how completely humiliated and embarrassed and ashamed she was because she was FAT and they were not.

In fact, one of the men, okay, Beckwith, had this to say about how humiliated she was: "She was twice the size of the other individuals."

WHOA.

If my Spiritual Expert said THAT about me on Larry King Live and I was Oprah, he would be one kicked-to-the-curb spiritual expert motherfucker.

Because here's the deal: Oprah may weigh two-hundred pounds but I guarantee you that neither Cher nor Tina weighs one hundred pounds. Tina Turner has always been a full-bodied, strong woman and the perennially anorexic Cher has recently done some ballooning herself.

So what's my point here?

My point is that this is insane.

Yes, it makes us all feel better to know that even Oprah, with the vast resources she has, seems to be as incapable as the rest of us when it comes to controlling her weight.

And yes, it's so much easier to wrap our heads around issues like this than it is to understand oh, the Gaza Strip and the crashing economy.

But to have an entire hour's show with four grown men discussing the issue and to have one of them say that Oprah was twice the size of Cher or Tina makes me want to hurl.
I am certain Oprah had given this panel her blessing to discuss her like a piece of meat on Larry King, but that makes me sad because it says so much about how she feels about herself which is uncomfortably close to how so many women feel about themselves, which is rather unbelievable here in 2009.

I'm sure that in about four months Oprah will be back to her fighting weight and then Greene, Oz, and Beckwith can come back on and discuss how she did it and how once again she has conquered her demons with the proper diet, exercise, stress control and spiritual growth.
And Larry can lead the discussion with all the gravitas he would offer the president or the secretary of state and we call all feel good, knowing that Oprah is thin again, happy, and ready to lead us all into a state of spiritual and physical wellness.

After that, maybe they can deal with Cher.

Which would help them sell even more books. And she can go on Oprah and discuss her thyroid, aging, weight gain and sense of worthlessness due to being fat.

Perhaps Beckwith will point out that her ass looks huge when she wears red-sequined dresses. And she will cry and say, "I know, I know! Forgive me for having a fat red-sequined ass!"

But what I'd really like to see is a show where this powerful trifecta of women would line these men up in a row and kick them in the crotch with all the strength in their powerful and stout legs and then stride off into the sunset together, wearing whatever they felt strong and beautiful in, shouting over their shoulders, "Fuck you!"

And then they'd all go get Mexican food and margaritas and then take over some dance floor, showing all the skinny gals how real women dance.

That's a show I'd feel good about watching.

How about you?