I promised I would take more photographs, I know. And I will. I'll do it today. Things are just hectic here. Crazy, really. Things go well, then they don't. And it is all on me. So. . . be patient. I'll give you this instead. It's almost classical, right? Recognize the couch? Sort of. I had one once. I don't think Ingres or Botticelli ever painted a pair of underwear like that, though. Makes it look so very odd. But, for me, at least, the oddity makes me look at it longer. Originally a picture from my studio. Maybe it is too personal to expect a public approbation.
It's as close to a photo as I can get this morning, just a weirdly appealing rendering.
"Would like to come up to the apartment and see some of my renderings?"
That reference will be lost on the majority of people today.
"What the hell is a rendering?"
Oh, shit. . . I just tried to find a movie reference for that line. I got this from A.I.
"That's very kind of you! However, as a text-based AI, I am not able to see or view images, renderings, or other visual files. I can only process and respond to information that you provide to me through text."
That's what she said.
Random notes from my morning mind. I took a Xanax to help me through the night. It did exactly what it is supposed to do. Now, however, my narrative may be a little scattered.
The carpet is still getting wet even though I've poured vinegar down the drain lines, let it stand for 30 minutes, then poured a gallon of hot water through them. I guess it is really singular, not "drain lines" but "drain line." I poured a gallon of hot water through it and it drained fine. I'm guessing that residual water is making its way to the low spots in the floor. I keep stepping on towels to dry it. It shouldn't be getting wetter during the night in my calculations. My mother wants to call a company to come out and do what they do to dry it and prevent mold. O.K. That's fine with me, but when I mentioned that at the gym yesterday, one fellow said no, I didn't need to do that. They make some crystal stuff you sprinkle on the carpet that draws all the water up. After that, I should rent a carpet cleaner. They make shampoos that have mold and mildew stoppers, and of course they suck up all the water from the carpet. That made sense to me, so I'm off to the hardware store sometime today.
If that doesn't work. . . I'll call the pros.
In the afternoon, I took my mother to her primary care doctor. She has to prescribe all the meds my mother was getting in the hospital and in the rehab center. That went well enough. We stopped at the pharmacy the way home and picked up her prescription for Percocet.
Then we stopped at the grocers. My mother sat in the car while I shopped. What to make for dinner? I did something completely out of character. We had a healthy salad, sure. . .. and hotdogs and baked beans. I don't know what made me do it other than I couldn't face making another meal that night. My mental health is suspect right now. Tenuous. Cracked. Rough handling and it could break.
So hot dogs. Yum.
After dinner, I wanted to read. I got to for about twenty minutes before the calling of my name began. She needed this, she needed that. Then the surprise.
"If I could just take a pill that would let me sleep and not wake up, I would."
There it is. A devoutly religious woman, totally opposed to the idea of suicide her entire life. Now, however, she understands.
I didn't tell her I had the pills. Nope. I can't do that. But I am goddamned sure that I am going to refresh my own exit pack as often as I can. There is no iceberg to float away on here in the Sunny South.
We see the pain management doctor tomorrow. We'll see how that goes.
She is up and moaning now. She moves and fidgets constantly while she stares into the void.
No, really. . . we are o.k. here. All of us. We're just doing fine.
Lalalalala.
There was a knock on the door fairly late last night. It was a woman from a few door down. I heard her talking to my mother. She said that the woman who cuts her hair would come to my mother's house and cut hers tomorrow. Then I heard her say that her husband was having open heart surgery the next day. He had gone in for a physical, and then he went in to have a stint put in. But they told him he had no artery in which to put the stint and that they were going to have to take one from his leg and put it in is chest. They will split him open the way you clean a fish today.
"Which hospital is he in?" I asked.
"They sent him up to Lake Ramone."
Holy shit! I didn't say anything, but WTF? That's is a backwater hospital at best. It is horrible. I wanted to exclaim "Why?!?!?!" but couldn't. The fellow is exactly my age. He likes to drink, but he looks fine. He and his wife are super friendly and helpful to all the aging neighbors.
Well. . . I wish him luck.
But like my friend said, "God hates everyone equally. It's just your turn."
Mr. Tree was telling me I had to believe. That I had to have faith. He launched into some very emotional tales of how many times God had saved his life.
"That's good, Bubba. I'll bet he's going to keep doing that, too. You will never die."
Oops. Why? Why am I like that?
Paul Thomas Anderson has adapted, if loosely, another Thomas Pynchon novel. He did one that I can't stop watching, "Inherent Vice." Pynchon is great at making fools of conspiracy theorists, has been since the early '70s. Mysterious man. For a long time, many thought he was J.D. Salinger. The Anderson movie is called "One Battle After Another." The novel is "Vineland." Both Anderson and Pynchon are up my alley, so to speak. And Pynchon has a new novel coming soon called "Shadow Ticket."
So. . . here and there, there are reasons to live, no?
Here. You recognize the chaise lounge now, right? I wonder how the censors deal with images like these that aren't photos but aren't really paintings, either? I could post one on social media to find out.
What do YOU think. The lines are open right now. Call in and give us your opinion. We'd be happy to hear.
But now. . . a word from our commercial sponsor. We'll be right back.
Wow. That calmed me quite a bit. And while we were away, I was reminded of something. I finished the last episode of "Black Rabbit" last night. Meh. But the series ended with the song I posted yesterday. And man, I thought that was a very nice touch.
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