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« May 2006 | Main | July 2006 »
Why I don't blog about current events so much anymore.
June 27, 2006
Because everytime I start to get worked up about something...like this article, I read another blog on the feminist blog feed, say feministe, and someone else has already done a mighty fine job of interpretation and evaluation, like this:
And that’s why this biology debate makes me uncomfortable. It’s important and interesting, of course, to look at the biological causes of everything under the sun, including sexuality. But no one bothers looking at what makes heterosexual people heterosexual. I’ve never been asked when I chose to be attracted to men, and I’ve never had someone insinuate that perhaps my sexuality isn’t genuine. Researchers, as far as I know, have never bothered to look for the gene that made me straight.But yet people seem to think that if we can come up with a biological explanation for homosexuality, then we’ll finally be willing to give the gays their due. Because, you know, it’s ok if they can’t help it.
and, hell, even the comments are more astute than anything I would have to offer:
Also no research in what makes a girl become a lesbian. Why would anyone care about a girl’s sexual preferences!
So, I'm afraid it's back to my little hidey hole. Go on, now...get thee over to feministe, or the feminist blog feed!
My suspicions have been confirmed. It *IS* all about the hair.
June 23, 2006
She was petting the neighbor's cat when I drove up. I got out of the car, and she waved, enthusiastically. I thought maybe there was something wrong with the cat, or that maybe she thought the cat was mine. She motioned for me to hang on a minute while she impatiently waited for a car to pass by and hurried across the street.
"Hi! You probably don't rembember me!" She said, with a Latina accent that I instantly recognized. We had had a long conversation in the park several years ago. I can't remember what it was about, but it was fun and arm-wavey and delightfully mundane. That much I do know. I thought she was kind of insane. We probably talked about the kids and neighborhood animals.
"Yes! I remember you!" I said.
She said "Oh, it is probably the accent. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that haircut REALLY works for you. It is fabulous! And, as a woman, I know how difficult this can be to find. But you should know that it looks REALLY good."
"Aw...thanks! Wow. Thanks a lot!"
"Well, I just thought you should know, because I know about these things, eh? And your CHILDREN! They are getting so BIG! But, anyway - yes...the haircut really works. And I know about these things, as a woman...It is more difficult to find a good haircut than it is to find a good GYNECOLOGIST!"
We both laughed and waved each other off and that. Was that.
Nick Cave
June 23, 2006
I have this inexplicable urge to acquire all of the Nick Cave releases on CD (I have all of them, but half of them are on vinyl) and listen to them in chronological order over the course of a day or a weekend.
Sounds like a project! I'm going to get on the acquisition bit. Anyone wanna join me for the listening bit? Maybe I should get all of the videos, too.
Single. Mother.
June 21, 2006
It has been a mellow day. I have taken the night off today to be with my kiddos for the longest night, and I am taking the night off tomorrow to be by myself and perhaps a nice boy for another solsticey celebration. Maybe.
It occurs to me that I suddenly have multiple boys in my life. Not all romantically oriented, either. This is odd for me. I think it is a function of fully gaining the outsider status of a divorcee - even if that status is all in my mind. I don't feel right around married mama friends. Not fully. The other day, on father's day, I forgot it was Father's day until I called one of my married mama friends. She said "Oh, yeah. Since you don't have a husband or really a father, it figures you would forget." I don't think she meant it to be as mean as it sounded. In fact, I am certain she didn't. And I wasn't really upset by it. But, still. Yeah. That pretty much pegs it.
Which might explain this sudden influx of boys in my life. They are single. I am single. That seems to be the predominant factor in forming "hangout" relationships. Availability. I am available. It is an interesting time in my life. I am enjoying my newly refound ability to be around boys, and enjoying my singledom also. I am having my cake and eating it, too. But I do kind of miss the mamas.
And, too, there is this idea that I fight against. Now that I have come to terms with being single and a parent, and being glad for it. For now. Like, to the point where when I hear of my friends talking about all of the little obligations that partnership entails I am not wistful for them but, ack! somewhat appalled by them. There is this idea, though, that I still fight against...the idea of this ideal family structure that I am expected to provide for my children. The structure that I know my children crave, but that I am, for now, unable to provide without doing some serious compromising - first, because there is really no one promising in my life right now to build that kind of structure with unless I force the issue (and I so do not want to try forcing that issue again. Ever.) And second, because really I am exploring this idea that perhaps there Might Never Be. And I am learning to not fear that for my children, just as I have learned to accept that I don't really fear that for myself. That I never really have needed a partner to feel fulfilled, and that it's not fair for anyone to find someone to merely fill a logistical/practical role in my life for the sake of my children. Even though a year ago or so, I truly thought it was perfectly fair. Now, the idea of living with someone who is practical but with whom I am not fully engaged with does not satisfy me or interest me in the least - even though I do occasionally long for...something. A break. Solace. Another pair of hands. Someone to change the damn lightbulb on the front porch. Damnit.
Perhaps it will happen one day that I will find someone who fulfills my romantic desires as well as those practical needs. In the meantime, I am happy with the way things are. I hope I can find a way to communicate this satisfaction...this JOY...with the children so they understand and do not feel a sense of longing for a fabricated structure that I am incapable and/or unwilling to provide. I have foundation here, and solid walls. And a roof over my head that does not leak. And, while it does feel precarious at times, and sometimes the doors stick or the hinges squeak, this house of mama love stands just fine on its own. Better than just fine. Fabulous.
A good explanation of the solstice & seasons
June 21, 2006
We have had many questions this morning about the solstice. This site answers many of them. Yay! Free stuff on the internet!
Did he really say that?
June 19, 2006
CNN.com - Bush: Iran must stop uranium enrichment - Jun 19, 2006
If Iran's leaders want peace and prosperity and a more hopeful future for their future, they should accept our offer.
*sigh*
How Many More?
June 19, 2006
Over the last year, I've spoken at a lot of high schools that have about 2,000 to 2,500 students on campus. I ask them to close their eyes and visualize an empty school. Only then can they begin to relate to this devastating number.But for those of us who have lost a son or a daughter or a brother or a sister or a father or a mother in this war, the number one is more than enough.
One empty chair at the table.
One folded flag on the mantel.
One driverless car sitting in the driveway waiting for the finance company to come and pick it up.
One person never coming home.
One broken family that cannot be repaired.
How many more?
How many more of our nation's finest are we willing to kill to enhance the bottom line of the Halliburtons and the Exxon Mobils? How many more of our young wounded is it going to take before our country wakes up?
How many more Iraqi babies are we going to allow our leaders to murder before we realize that all babies are precious, loved, and mourned when they are killed?
They are such simple words, but so powerful. Every time I think about writing a post about how dumb war - ALL war - is, I stop myself, thinking it has all been said before. I am glad that Cindy Sheehan doesn't do the same thing. Evidently we need to keep saying it.
2500
1
It's all too much...too high a price to pay.
Love chaos
June 18, 2006
I keep going back to this ridiculous notion that people keep wanting to put forward to me (and perhaps that I keep going back to in my own conditioned response to reality) that you can somehow predict the outcome of love. That if you “choose†to love someone with (or without) certain characteristics, you can somehow be assured of safety. Yet all that I have experienced in my life proves the opposite. People are surprising…delightfully so. And anyway, that is the whole point of love, isn’t it? To reveal some hidden inner truth in another person that maybe no one else has ever been able to reveal. Certainly that is never predictable, and if it was, I wouldn’t want it. If I wanted a predictable high, I would just do a bunch of drugs. No. I love chaos, and love is chaos. Full on. Delicious. Chaos.
Yum!
I am alive
June 16, 2006
And, I mean, like TOTALLY fucking alive. It has been a good three weeks in spite of the missing of the children. However, right now, I am feeling the same way I felt the night they left. I am weepy and empty and reuniting myself with that tender heartbreak that I have come to know as motherhood.
But my adventures have been wonderful and wild over the past three weeks. Too much to contain, too much to explain. And I am in a private mood, anyway. For once. I want to save things up and share them with a select few. Sometimes so select it is only one. I am inspired and firing and breathing and beaming and it is fucking awesome. I am also, it seems, having my cake and eating it too. And I am feeling deliciously vague about it.
The kids return on Monday. It will be a hard week...I can anticipate that at least. I have many things to integrate into my life. Some vital shifts will have to be made. Some of my recently acquired freedoms and the habits that have been borne of them will have to be abandoned until next my children are away. I need to take this weekend to embrace that.
Also, the solstice. The half way marker of the year. Where am I? Where did I want to be. I am writing religiously, which is good. And I am striking a balance between social activity and solitude. I am still working on financial stability. (speaking of which, I need to get my fucking tree trimmed before it rips all of the fucking shingles off of my fucking roof). New rhythms need to be established. New alliances formed.
Oh, my sweet coleybird calls me every day and mourns. He loves me he loves me he loves me he loves me is all I hear. He sings songs into the answering machine and exhales into the receiver, on the verge of tears. It is almost over, dear bird boy. And Monk...doesn't say much of anything. But I know he misses me, too.
And there is another boy. A man. And he is sweet and smartassy and soulmateish. I am not sure what to make of it. Of him. I regard him out of the corner of my eye. He refuses to be looked at head on. He is a slow-moving train, and I am standing on the tracks, waving my arms. Delighted with the onrush of wind. Anticipating collision.
And that's about all you are going to hear about that.
Solstice
June 13, 2006
Sweet Summer Solstice Balances Life's Bitterness
Humans must always balance the tension between grave public demands and intensely personal preoccupations. There is reading the newspaper, and there is letting the mind go out the window. But the golden twilights of June want attention paid. You remind yourself that this week's display is of ingenious movements of the planet that you otherwise take for granted. Ironically, the solstice is defined not by intimacy, but distance, for now the sun is as far as it gets from the celestial equator. The resulting length of days points to earth's trustworthiness, for the movement away carries the promise of return. When has the dance of earth and sun ever broken that commitment?And when has astronomy ever done more for the lifting of the spirit? The suspended moments of time's zenith are sacraments of life's goodness. Haste, duty, and the hassles of work have no admittance here. In the coming week, you will remember with love all those with whom you have found your ease in such suspension -- companions of summer. And in recalling such release, you will look for more. Ironically, this is how you deepen your feeling of responsibility for the world. It is the one thing you have learned: to be at peace is the way to prepare to work for peace.
Extropic Art
June 12, 2006
I was noodling around looking for information on the ephemeralist art movement, and I found "We're not in Kansas Anymore":
One of the impatient ideas suffusing the EAM is that the artist’s greatest work is his/her own being. An extropic artist is an "Automorph," a kind of continuous canvas in time, not only in the sense of "body art" but in a constant refinement of emotions and intellect. The way to make a perfect painting, suggests a passage in T minus, is to become a perfect person, and then simply paint. Automorphing picks up on the Extropian theme of transhuman becoming post-human. "How old are you?" they asked. "My intelligence augmentation is three years now, my right hip, five. Ocular implants, just two weeks, age reversal nearly nine." "How old are you?" they asked...just to realize before she left, She was not yet born (from the Automorpher, a performance piece by Natasha More). Though extropic art and automorphism may seem like symptoms of millennial hysteria to some, extropic writer and philosopher Reilly Jones finds its seeds in Renaissance humanistic ideals. He quotes Pico della Mirandola (1486) from "Oration on the Dignity of Man," "Adam, to the end that according to thy longing and according to thy judgment, thou mayest have and possess what abode, what form, and what functions thou thyself shalt desire...Thou, constrained by no limits, in accordance with thine own free will, in whose hand We have placed thee, shalt ordain for thyself the limits of thy nature." To Jones, the aim of self-transformation is to "structure an architecture for the soul."
I had never heard of this movement before, and while some of it sounds a bit kooky...it strikes me. I will have to read more about it.
I do think they have ephmeralism pegged wrong, though. My understanding of ephemeralist art is not deathist. To me, ephemeralism is about capturing a moment and letting it go. That is perfectly descriptive of life as I know it. Appreciating what is so as not to expend the possibility of what will be.
Jon Stewart on Gay Marriage
June 9, 2006
Bring it On
June 8, 2006
Remember a couple of weeks ago? I had that arm-wavey conversation with JM about Dirty Three & "Low & Dirty Three - Down By The River" and all things Nick Cave?
I remember, too, during the course of that 15-minute conversation, we discussed our mutual initial aversion to Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Nocturama. I mean, it was bad enough that there was a 37 and a half hour song that consisted of the words "Babe I'm On Fire" and little else (OK, it's actually not lyrically that bad, but I can't listen to anything that repititious for more than, say, 5 minutes, without wanting to bash my head THROUGH a wall) but there was also a song called "Bring it On." BRING IT ON, folks. And this was, I believe, AFTER GW's ill-fated invitation to terrorists. It was definitely after the cheerleading movies of the same name had moved from theater to DVD. The next thing you know, the man will be singing about Frappacino's for god's sake!
Bring it on! The nerve!
So, that is why when I went for my walk last night, I was surprised by my desire to pop Nocturama into my walkman. Maybe I was setting myself up for some torture. No pain no gain. That kind of thing.
But no. I mean, yes...Nocturama is by far my least favorite of Nick Cave's offerings. I'm sorry, I don't buy that "Going back to my roots" crap, either. I think Cave phoned this one in, for the most part, and I see little redeeming value in a "Dead Man In My Bed" when I can have a Real Live Devil "Bucking and Braying and Pawing at the Floor" in such sexy tracks as "Loverman" (a is for any-old-how, darlin' - n is for n-e-old time!)(Ouch.)(I would say "Hurt me" but "V is for virtue, so I ain't gonna hurt you, and E is for even if you want me to.)(again...ouch, I say!)
But anyway, there is some redemption in Tracks like "Still in Love" - which appears to be another one of those "Who did Nick kill THIS time...or is it the man himself who has died?" songs. As well as the subtle simplistic sentiment of "Right out of your hand." And even though I cringe every.fucking.time. I hear the line about the trip to MALTA (really, nick? MALTA?) I gotta love the sappy star-crossed sentimentality of "Rock of Gibraltor." What can I say? I am kind of a sap.
Additionally, Warren Ellis' violin tremors tie the whole package together with a nice heaping helping of shimmering wistfulness. Like a vulture rising up from a carcass. And any good nick cave fan would understand that I mean that in a Good Way.
As I neared the end of my walk last night, though, "Bring it On" came on. I rolled my eyes, but then I quickly remembered how powerful that song really is. Ellis puts the punctuation at the beginning of the sentence, and from there we are led into a beautiful lyrical exploration of the true meaning of a phrase which has been made trite by popular culture. Cave, accompanied by Chris Bailey, sing to us about the starkness and raw power of laying yourself naked before the possibilities, both good and bad, inherent in loving someone. They remind us that we all carry "shattered dreams" and "useless fears" and we (at least *I*) yearn for someone to stand before me, unafraid of all of that, and tend my ordinary flowers as they scatter my sadness into the sea. And I yearn to do the same in return.
It's meeting nakedness with nakedness. Raw with raw. It's a declaration that is only made stronger by the cliche nature of it's declarative statement. Perhaps that was the point...perhaps it was not. But I returned from my walk last night, alive with possibility, understanding and hope that I did not have when I began.
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Bring It On
This garden that I built for you
That you sit in now and yearn
I will never leave it, dear
I could not bear to return
And find it all untended
With the trees all bended low
This garden is our home, dear
And I got nowhere else to go
So bring it on
Bring it on
Every little tear
Bring it on
Every useless fear
Bring it on
All your shattered dreams
And I'll scatter them into the sea
Into the sea
The geraniums on your window sill
The carnations, dear, and the daffodil
Well, they're ordinary flowers
But they long for the light of your touch
And of your trembling will
Ah, you're trembling still
And I am trembling too
To be perfectly honest I don�t know
Quite what else to do
So bring it on
Bring it on
Every neglected dream
Bring it on
Every little scheme
Bring it on
Every little fear
And I'll make them disappear
So bring it on, bring it on
Bring it on
Every little thing
Bring it on
Every tiny fear
Bring it on
Every shattered dream
And I'll scatter them into the sea
Shockingly Beautiful.
June 7, 2006
I love my friend John, and am so heartened by his continued presence in my life. What, has it been 20 years or so of frequently interrupted but still uninterruptible friendship? – taxed by distances of geography, affinity, and occasionally ideology and still so strong.
I remember John driving me in his car in the city. Chicago. It was a sunny day, but winter, and I was wearing my cowely-necked poncho under my black capey thing, and I had the cowel pulled up over my eyes as he drove and was seeing the crisp world in this wonderfully vague and blocky way. I was pretending I was John, which is something I find myself doing often, and looking at the world as shapes and feelings rather than concrete objects. Photographer John. Always inspiring me to look at things in different ways.
And so it is that as I balance on this tilting bridge of love, arms akimbo, I look to John for another way of looking at this complicated emotional topography, lest I focus too closely and fall in a bad way. And John responds, as he always does, with wisdom and a surprisingly concentrated knowledge of Who I Am. And this makes me so happy I want to cry for my good fortune.
I think a lot about my fortunate relationships with people. My heart is open, and while good close proximity-wise friends seem sparse, I feel full with people past present and future who are truly wonderful and inspiring. It is amazing, actually, how wealthy I have been in terms of these relationships. It is how I know that I make good choices when sometimes circumstances might try to convince me otherwise. And some of these friendships have been hard-won and fought for. Even John has not existed in my life without a certain degree of challenge. And yet, when all is said and done, there he is. A flitting constant. Wonderful.
So, about this rickety bridge I am balancing on. I am sick to my stomach and on the verge of tears and absofuckinglutely loving every damn second of it. I am seeing things. Maybe not with a photographer’s eye, but with some kind of vision that is not my typical vision. Today, driving home from work, I spied a tremendous flock of grackles in a tree outside of the mall. They all rose up at once, as if to fly off, but something stopped them and they all impossibly managed to roost in the same tree. I found it difficult to believe that one tree could contain them all without bursting. And that is how my heart feels right now. I am finding myself flying out, only to return and reroost, and each time gathering more and more until I am almost bursting with feathers, beaks, and talons. Yet, although the invisible net draws me back in and back in and back in, I miraculously find the strength to continue to attempt to burst forth and burst forth and burst forth until maybe one day I will break through the net in all of my bird-hearted joy. But for now I am managing, somehow, to refrain from unleashing completely. Gathering myself in this one small tree of me. Hopping from one branch to another. Chirping.
And I am thankful for the inadvertantish wisdom of Caution and Slowness. Me? Typically, I am impatient, needy, and weak. And that is OK, too. Because even though I am bursting, I can be contained. Barely, but it can be done.
My eyes crinkle at the corners as I regard this situation. External to me, I am viewing the geometry of my emotions. With my shirt pulled up over my eyes, I can see shapes and feelings – abstractions rather than concrete desires. I am trying to look at the world with the photographer’s eye, to escape my demanding for immediate action and be content with the back and forth motion of silence and stillness. I am thinking about Right Now. Every Right Now that passes. And though I want and I want and I want, I feel…satisfied with what I Have. Full and empty both. If I listen, I can hear the chatter of a thousand birds. If I listen closer, I can hear the silence in which that chatter echoes.
Update. Life. Complications.
June 5, 2006
I just got home from work to my emptyish house, and it feels so weird. I keep feeling like I am forgetting something. I guess the last few times the kids have been at their dad's for extended stays, I have had other people around. Now it is just me, and I feel very displaced.
I also am feeling oddly on top of things. I can go in to work and work 8 hours without having to worry that I am burdening someone else with my children. I can go out for a swim in the middle of the afternoon without having to drive 5 miles out of my way to drop the kids off somewhere. I can involve myself in complicated social dealings without having to reserve my energy for the children.
And, oddly, though I am writing more in my journals...I am not in the mood to blog. I am finding myself embroiled in a situation that I feel very protective of, and I really do not want to share it with anyone. It's the kind of thing that can only be understood if I give all of the background information...and I am totally not wanting to give all of the background information, because that information is not mine to share. In my mind, it is all good. However, I am sure if I attempt to share my feelings, it will seem not all good in the lack of context and completeness. So, I won't share any. You should just know that I am feeling mushity and happy and full of life and love. And I'm also feeling some less positive feelings, but that is all part of the everything that makes us human, and I totally love that, too.
I swam 40 laps today, which was enough to get me good and rubbery feeling. I figured out that if I go swimming after swim lessons are over, I can get my own lane and not have to worry about any of that confounded lane sharing. I do not like to share lanes.
I miss my boys. As logistically smooth as my life is without them, I crave random chaos. The house is too tidy. I find that I am leaving the dishes in the sink on purpose, just because that is the only thing I seem to ever mess up around here in this house by myself. It is very weird here without them. I wake up in the morning and long to tell someone to go away and leave me alone, but I am already alone. Without Coley around to knock on my door and wake me up, I am finding that I wake myself up by my loud nose snoring.
What else? That is about it. Nothing more to report. My little empty world. It's kind of nice, actually. There is expansiveness in all directions. I can choose to be solitary, and I can choose to not be solitary. These days, I feel very privileged to have that choice.
Cool Air and Crushy Boys.
June 3, 2006
It has been one of those "I know why I believe in the inherent goodness of people" weeks around here. First of all, we had the cute, sweet A/C repair guy who totally went out of his way to find the missing part to my A/C unit so I could get it repaired without replacing the whole furnace. Also, while he was replacing it, he discovered that the collar thingy that holds to blower motor in place was totally rusted and falling apart, so he actually machined a new part for me because no one makes parts for my unit anymore. I am telling you that when he came and fixed that thing and I really truly realized all of the work he did just to help me out and not charge me for it...I was on the verge of tears. What a wonderful nice person. And I don't even have to believe in god to see that or receive it. hahahahaha.
So I made him a lasagna. I big, heavy, feeds about 82 people lasagna. I hope he really enjoys it. He not only helped me make my house about 20 degrees cooler, he really gave me a lesson in human kindness and for that I am most appreciative of all.
I also made a lazagg for my cute crushy boy who came over last night for a nice date-like thingy. Although I wasn't sure if it was a date or not. I'm still not sure if it was, either...but it sure was nice to hang out with him. Crushy boy (who will remain a mystery to everyone moo hee hahahahahahahah) is quirky and sweet and gosh is he fun to cuddle. He makes me smile, and I am grinning dumfuckedly at the screen as I type this. We watched Brazil, and he even seemed to not mind that I had to get up and move around about a zillion times during the movie, even though he is a total film snob and he had predicted that he would get pissed about my movie ADD. But I did him up right with pesto and bread and salad and lasagna and berries with choc covered espresso beans for dessert. Also, he liked my dog. And I like him. An awful lot. Yeah. Immensely.
So, what crushy boy has taught me this week is that certain needs can be satisfied from unlikely sources. Like, when I first started talking to him, I had no idea of the depth of his ability to satisfy some of my more bizarre desires. Things like chatting all day off and on - it is like there is a nice little disembodied voice in my house with me. A grown up voice. And poetry and silly sappiness and music. So many sweet little things that I have not been able to share with anyone before, I seem to be able to share with crushy boy. And I am so thankful for his presence in my life. Plus there's that snuggling thing. That's important too...when the voice has a body. Hee. I am getting all dreamy sitting here.
At any rate, yeah. I would say it has been a good week, notwithstanding the absence of my two favorite little wacky sidekicks. Life is pretty fucking grand.
Keep your ear to the ground...
June 1, 2006
Last night before I went to bed, I typed up this note and magnified the font and left it on my computer, which was on all night with the monitor off:
Dear me:Do not sit around pining away for impossible boys on the computer all day and waiting for the AC repairman. GO SWIMMING! TREAT YOURSELF! HAVE FUN! ENJOY LIFE!
Love,
Me.
Ha! I crack me up sometimes.
Of course, this morning it is raining and not really good swimming weather, so go figure. However, I am not pining in the least, nor do I care if the AC repair guy EVER shows up. At this point, I am starting to calculate the cost savings of not even having AC at all and maybe just investing in one good window unit to keep us cool this summer...or until I can save up to get a whole new HVAC system that is energy/cost efficient. Fuck central air! Fuck luxury!
I am slowly crawling out of my self-induced hell of no children. It feels shockingly empty in this house. And tidy. And I have nothing to distract me except for impossible boys on the internet, and the news - all of which seems bad, and my books and journals. I wake up, having slept with my journal, and I write for 30 minutes. And before I go to bed I tap madly at the keyboard. Pecking out words.
Oh, it's not so bad as all of that. I am not completely insane and isolated. I played card last night with A. He taught me how to play Fluxx and it was enjoyable. A is a nice person to spend time with. He is not an impossible boy, but a Truly Nice Guy. So if any of you ladies out there are looking for a nice guy - I can introduce you. Come play cards with us!
My housemate keeps to herself mostly. And I have been working. Free from the logistical nightmare of childcare, work is so easy to accomplish. I go into the office early, and I feel compelled to stay late. I have been forgetting to scan the Chronicle for shows and movies that I want to see. I feel kind of broke what with the ac repairs forthcoming, but I might still find a way to afford to go see blackalicious tomorrow if it isn't totally sold out and if my tentative movie-watching, lasagna-eating plans with #1 impossible boy get canceled - which they likely may, because he is Impossible.
Other than that...nothing. I still wake up at Coley Time every morning. My goal was to swim in the late morning and walk late at night. I have been doing the walks, but the swims have not been happening.
I spend my days at home listening to old punk rock on cassette. I need to get a new turntable. It's in the works. Today it is the Discord State of the Union compilation. "I want this candle lighted for the dear departed." I remember my friend Gar had a big crush on this woman. Gar. Gah. I need to email Gar. He always can pull me out of semi-funks and leave me laughing and laughing and laughing at the absurdity of it all.
Time is too short to mope. Almost 1 week down, a little more than 2 to go.