Tied to the Whipping Post

I kinda sorta turned things around a little bit today.  Maybe.  It felt as if I did for awhile.  We'll see if it holds.  I realized that I had neither music nor flowers in the house for two months.  I was lamenting that I couldn't enjoy the silliest things I used enjoyed, like Martin Denny music and the iTunes Radio station I made from it, Radio Primativo which comes up with all sorts of crazy shit like "The Romantic Moods of Jackie Gleason" and "Claire de Lune."  I put it on this morning as I sorted through another couple boxes of old Polaroids.  I started feeling a bit more chipper.  I was thinking that the wrecking crew had come last week, but I was wrong.  I live in a time warp now.  Quickly, I started getting things ready for their arrival.  I ate some breakfast, which I haven't done for two months, either, and got ready for the Physical Culture Club.  It was later than usual when I got there and the place was empty.  And boy, did I have a great, no pressure workout.

When that was done, I drove home with a plan.  If the maids were there, I'd take a walk.  If not, I'd make lunch.

I took a walk.  It was o.k., though, for I had eaten breakfast.  And when I returned, they were gone.  The house was clean and neat.  I made a quick lunch and ate outside before I showered, after which I put a lamp in a needed place in the t.v. room.  There used to be a table there a couple months ago, and I determined (I did) to get a replacement this weekend.  Then, before it got late enough that the traffic would be bad, I drove to Trader Joe's to get some cut flowers.  Tulips is what I got, a bunch of them, and some eucalyptus, too.  I also got a bunch of Trader Joe's treats and a frozen pizza in case I didn't care to cook tonight.  I split the tulips into two vases and put the eucalyptus into another in the kitchen.

Mr. Do It.

All day, I'd been thinking about pictures.  I want a studio, want to make pictures of humans again, and I came up with an almost plan for getting one.  Not my own, but something of a shared space with the boys at the photo shop who opened up a gallery.  It is a sort of pop-up and is only open on some weekends.  I thought to pay them some of their rent to let me shoot there some nights.  They are pretty loose, and I think they might be amenable.  The thought of it made me happy-ish which is much better than what I have been.

*.  *.  *.  

I got kicked out of the coffee shop while I was writing this.  They were closing to set up for a private event, so I came home, poured a glass of wine, and called my mother.  As we were chatting, the cats appeared.  They haven't been around for at least three days.  Suddenly they were my buddies.  The birds have come back, too.  I saw two barn owls fly over head.  I heard hawks crying (I am pretty sure it is mating season).  Song birds returned to the feeders.  The cats pretended nonchalance.

And then Friday night was approaching, and I realized what lay ahead, and my music/flower/animal high began to fade.

I barely made dinner, simply adding to a garbanzo bean, red pepper, garlic, and avocado salad I already had.  A frozen organic ramen noodle soup.  The news.  Then YouTube.

Old Big Dick Q texted me with some of his good news.  Old Priapus.

I won't spill the beans on my blog, 'cause that's the kind a guy I am.  I let him tell or not on his own.  But he was planning on a big night of drinking and eating and sexing until he was as satiated as he could get.

I poured a scotch and watched a video of Jackson Brown and Greg Allman playing together.

"Please don't remind me of my failures/ I've not forgotten them."

Jesus, I thought.  It's come to this.

But I've always been one to measure myself by other people's successes.

Speaking of micro-aggressions, I've been noticing lately that whenever Q says something that isn't biting about me, he doesn't link my site (link) (link), but when he wants to give me the shiv, he does (link).  What's up with that?

That's what happens, I guess.  Indubitably.

The sun is shining, and it is cold.  I want to get breakfast at the diner, but the CDC is telling old people not to go out.

One positive thing, though.  As always, the folks over at the New York Times are keeping an eye on my blog.  They read about the contest to name my top three ideas on the pursuit of happiness, and so today they published this (link).

Sometimes it seems like I've been tied to the whipping post.