Recently I was shooting with Krissy and Jewell Marceau. We were talking about buying and selling real estate. Krissy mentioned that her father purchases "repos", fixes them up, and either rents or resells them.
"He buys mobile homes?" I asked, slightly puzzled.
"Sometimes." she replied."He has mobile homes, regular houses, and some apartment buildings."
After Krissy answered me I felt slightly foolish. She may have found it odd that I had specifically inquired about mobile homes. I had done so because she had used the word "repo". Scores of people are losing their homes in Southern California and I almost always hear the word "foreclosure" used to describe the reclamation of the property. Somehow I always associate the word "repo" with the repossession of automobiles, but that is just due to my limited thinking. After our conversation I worried that my question had been slightly offensive to Krissy. I worry far too much about minutiae. Nonetheless, later that night the conversation kept replaying itself in my head. I always see conversations in my head. When I'm speaking with someone all the punctuated dialogue is spelled out in my mind and neatly organized into paragraphs. It runs North-South on something similar to a teleprompter screen. The scripts for disturbing conversations often resurface and torment me. Sometimes it helps me to write about them so I can expunge them from my soul.
Initially I did not think the misguided mobile home question I posed to Krissy would keep lurking around my conscience, but it did. Last week I was dancing at the bar and spent some time sitting with a contractor, Lorenzo, who buys and rehabilitates old houses and apartment buildings.
"There are repos everywhere now." Lorenzo happened to say. "It's only just starting and the situation is going to get a lot worse. Lots of people are losing their homes."
The usual text was scrolling through my mind as he and I spoke. It screeched to a halt as soon he used the term "repo". Quotation marks quickly materialized around the word and it multiplied and began flying at me: "repo", "repo", "repo", "repo". It turned red: "repo", "repo", "repo", "repo". Then it started flashing. It began varying in size and continually jumping to the front of my brain. I lost track of the conversation I was having with Lorenzo. After a few moments I realized that Lorenzo was waiting for me to respond to something he had said. I wrapped my hand around my drink as I tried to vanquish the "repo"s and attempted to mentally replay the last sentence Lorenzo had spoken. The condensation from the glass dripped over my fingers.
"Um.. " I began.
Lorenzo mercifully repeated himself and did not seemed annoyed by what he may have perceived as my lack of attention. I tried to shake my mind loose from "repo". Its minions continued to fly at me but its dominance subsided as Lorenzo and I kept chatting. "Repo" returned again when I got home that night. Go figure. I can describe all this without really understanding it. Initially I reacted by thinking that I definitely did not want a connection with the word "repo". After a few minutes at home I decided that that notion was probably just a stab of irrational fear that my own property would be repossessed. I reflected longer and realized that a connection with"repo"might be a good thing. Perhaps I will start buying repos. I don't know. I will say that it is hard to function normally when a specific word is sending a fleet of its clones at you, particularly when they are bright red and start flashing across your brain like meteors.
The pic of Krissy above was taken on the day of the original Krissy/repo conversation. That's my foot going into her mouth. Perhaps it would have been more apropos if I had a photo of my foot going into my own mouth. Join www.TanyaDanielle.com to see the full gallery of sexy, hapless Krissy bound with rope, subjected to a mechanical dildo, and forced to worship the pantyhose-clad feet of Jewell and myself.
"He buys mobile homes?" I asked, slightly puzzled.
"Sometimes." she replied."He has mobile homes, regular houses, and some apartment buildings."
After Krissy answered me I felt slightly foolish. She may have found it odd that I had specifically inquired about mobile homes. I had done so because she had used the word "repo". Scores of people are losing their homes in Southern California and I almost always hear the word "foreclosure" used to describe the reclamation of the property. Somehow I always associate the word "repo" with the repossession of automobiles, but that is just due to my limited thinking. After our conversation I worried that my question had been slightly offensive to Krissy. I worry far too much about minutiae. Nonetheless, later that night the conversation kept replaying itself in my head. I always see conversations in my head. When I'm speaking with someone all the punctuated dialogue is spelled out in my mind and neatly organized into paragraphs. It runs North-South on something similar to a teleprompter screen. The scripts for disturbing conversations often resurface and torment me. Sometimes it helps me to write about them so I can expunge them from my soul.
Initially I did not think the misguided mobile home question I posed to Krissy would keep lurking around my conscience, but it did. Last week I was dancing at the bar and spent some time sitting with a contractor, Lorenzo, who buys and rehabilitates old houses and apartment buildings.
"There are repos everywhere now." Lorenzo happened to say. "It's only just starting and the situation is going to get a lot worse. Lots of people are losing their homes."
The usual text was scrolling through my mind as he and I spoke. It screeched to a halt as soon he used the term "repo". Quotation marks quickly materialized around the word and it multiplied and began flying at me: "repo", "repo", "repo", "repo". It turned red: "repo", "repo", "repo", "repo". Then it started flashing. It began varying in size and continually jumping to the front of my brain. I lost track of the conversation I was having with Lorenzo. After a few moments I realized that Lorenzo was waiting for me to respond to something he had said. I wrapped my hand around my drink as I tried to vanquish the "repo"s and attempted to mentally replay the last sentence Lorenzo had spoken. The condensation from the glass dripped over my fingers.
"Um.. " I began.
Lorenzo mercifully repeated himself and did not seemed annoyed by what he may have perceived as my lack of attention. I tried to shake my mind loose from "repo". Its minions continued to fly at me but its dominance subsided as Lorenzo and I kept chatting. "Repo" returned again when I got home that night. Go figure. I can describe all this without really understanding it. Initially I reacted by thinking that I definitely did not want a connection with the word "repo". After a few minutes at home I decided that that notion was probably just a stab of irrational fear that my own property would be repossessed. I reflected longer and realized that a connection with"repo"might be a good thing. Perhaps I will start buying repos. I don't know. I will say that it is hard to function normally when a specific word is sending a fleet of its clones at you, particularly when they are bright red and start flashing across your brain like meteors.
The pic of Krissy above was taken on the day of the original Krissy/repo conversation. That's my foot going into her mouth. Perhaps it would have been more apropos if I had a photo of my foot going into my own mouth. Join www.TanyaDanielle.com to see the full gallery of sexy, hapless Krissy bound with rope, subjected to a mechanical dildo, and forced to worship the pantyhose-clad feet of Jewell and myself.
- XXOO Tanya
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