Noir

I was looking for a photo to post today, but I haven't taken anything worth a darn and I was sick of looking at the second and third tier photos I have in a folder on my little computer here at mom's, so. . . I took one of them into Chat and transformed it into something noir.  Why?  Last night, mom and I watched "Spider-Noir," with Nicolas Cage.  And holy moly, I got hooked.  It is a series on Amazon Prime, so I look forward to Episode Two tonight.  I don't know if it would be your thing, but you are definitely not as bored and seeking some distraction as I.  Not even close.  So don't take this as a serious rec, but yea. . . for what it is, it is really good.  The N.Y. Times reviewer referred to it as "What if Humphrey Bogart happened to be Spider-Man?" 

That's pretty accurate.  Cage looks weatherbeaten and worn.  There is no attempt to make him pretty.  In a world where Brad Pitt never ages and I do, I'm down with Cage, Penn, et. al,--hey, wait a minute--they were both in "Fast Times at Ridgemont High"!  

I envy Pitt, don't get me wrong, but I gotta hang with the fellows who, like me, have aged like old fruit.  

Like real people who can't afford Goop do.  

But. . . I'll confess. . . . 

A buddy of mine, one you've read about here before, has an appointment with a plastic surgeon who is renown for his work with eyes.  One of the gals at the gym is very open about the work she gets, and at fifty, she still looks like a kid.  When I got my hair cut, she was very complimentary, so I said, "yea, now I gotta do the eyes."

So she told me to go to this fellow who did hers.  Just the under eye.  She has another person for the above the eye work.  

So I told the other fellow, and he said he was thinking about doing it.  Yesterday he told me he had made an appointment for a consultation.  

"Let me know," I said.  

But, in truth, I'll stick with the old fruit look just the way God, in his wisdom and glory, intended. 

Oy!

Oh--you can watch "Spider-Noir" in either black and white or color.  True dat.  They made it both ways.  I watched the color version last night.  

What a world, right?  

"It was the best of times.  It was the worst of times."

Other than this, I have nothing.  I'm lost and can't find my way home.  I get the occasional story from Red, and I woke up to a text pic from my Miami Friend, but they are living and I have become a zombie.  When I left my mother's house yesterday afternoon, I couldn't think of what to do other than my usual routine.  I'd already gone to the mall.  Really?  I'm pathetic?  I had planned on driving to the Farmer's Market in the town half an hour away, but it is raining.  So I will make breakfast for my mother and then. . . and then. . . ?  

I'm running out of Xanax.  

Here's a song for a rainy day to put you in the mood for noir and a double Old Fashioned. 

Selavy.