These were some serious legs in the 1970's. They belonged to a dancer who lived in my girlfriend's dorm. I think her major was dance. Amazing.
I just wrote a bunch of drivel that I will push to the bottom of the page and in all likelihood will delete. It is an indication of my lack of focus this morning. Retired, in isolation, and without a true purpose, I grow mushy.
Perhaps I've listened too much to The Donald. I can't quit. I just can't make myself look away. He is an Idiot Savant. He understands that people don't care about scientific truths until they need them. Such things are too difficult. They are outside of the normal realm of American experience. He understands that people are ruled by impressions and gut feelings, and that those are the only truths that matter in the public realm. He understands that people don't want to have to think about things much before they opine. His language is of the people, never complete, speaking in phrases or simple groupings of words that can be repeated but within any linguistic structure can not be pinned down by grammar or meaning. Empty phrases and cliches. He's a poet with a populist voice. His ignorance is the people's ignorance. His anger is the people's anger.
Well, at least 48% of them. But like C.C. says, make some noise and an audience will find you. The Donald makes some big noise. I wish I was going to live long enough to look back on this and see what it looks like from the future.
Ah, fuck, this is not what I wanted to write about, either. I guess I had nothing I really wanted to write about at all. Maybe posting this picture has unnerved me. I don't know.
My calendar tells me I have a beauty appointment at 2:00 today. Of course I can't go. It makes me sad. When? When can I get beautified again? How is my poor beautician going to make any money? But I am sure that there are people who are going. The question is whether she can stay healthy. This city's outbreak is on the steep incline right now.
But that is merely science. In America, we are all special. Each and every one of us stars in our own movie. And in that movie, we are the survivors. The chance of not getting Covid-19 is much greater than of getting it. Those are Vegas odds, baby. Only losers need fear. And the chances of dying are tremendously low, even if you get the virus. That is what the people say. I have heard it with my own good ears.
Whatever. I can't write today. Maybe I can read.
(I deleted the rest of the post. I should have deleted it all)
I really liked the part you deleted a lot. You are right about Trump. He is a vile pustule on the body politic, but he represents the America we are better than the America we think we are. He is a Loman who made it big. He learned how to smile and talk the lingo. They will name an airport after him, too. Just wait.
ReplyDeleteYou think? The Donald International?
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ReplyDeleteOh - there's c.c. Hi. Good to see you checking in. Miss your comments always. :).
I don't watch The Donald. Except the one who played a big part of Season 1 of "Goliath." I've always been somewhat fascinated with William Hurt. And of course Billy Bob has always had his shoes under my bed. What a beautiful mess that show is.
I would have liked to read what you deleted. Of course. That's the always the best part isn't it? What is written and then erased?
Here's a realization that I won't delete. Confessions morning.
I think - I realized - how this time - not doing any work - being home most of the time - has allowed me to grieve my loneliness from Tom's goneness. Somewhat of a blessing - I suppose. Cause I have just kept moving for the last 1.5 years.
When someone isn't "yours" by law - you don't get much say in what happens when they die you know. His very young - screwed up wife wouldn't let me have him in death. I have no idea where he went.
I knew him better than anyone in his life. And I have his poems.
Have you ever read James Joyces' letters to Nora? His "dirty little fuckbird?"
I fear that is the only type of relationship that feels normal to me any more. Absolute soul giving dirty underwear sniffing kind.
Ok. So there's more than anyone wanted to read. But I must confess somewhere. Libra- TMI.
Denys Finch Hatton, Out of Africa:
I don't want to live someone else's idea of how to live. Don't ask me to do that. I don't want to find out one day that I'm at the end of someone else's life.
So. . . you were sexually active? I'm more of a Karen Blixen myself :)
DeleteHell, yeah. Nobody knows who the fuck LaGuardia is anymore.
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