Sunday, June 28, 2026

Bad Film, Rotten Lives, Microbial Cleaners, and Men and Boys of the Religious Right

There it is, the ONLY in focus well developed shot with the Aero-Ektar Liberator camera I got--out of 32 pieces of film.  So. . . maybe the camera DOES work.  This was simply a test shot at my house.  That is not a coffee cup.  It is a huge planter my carpenter left for me as a present.  It is hideous.  For this shot, I put the camera on the ground, so maybe some of the problem I experience in using it is hand-held camera shake.  I mean, it is big and weighs 25 pounds and has a huge mirror that makes an impressive slapping sound when the photo is taken.  

I'll try again.  But here is what half the images looked like. 

This one is exceptional in that it appears to be a triple exposure.  For real.  I shot over a bunch of film that had already been exposed, or, in this case, double exposed.  I know I shot this piece of film with my Chamonix 4x5 camera because one of the exposures is in portrait mode and the Liberator won't do that.  Which means I probably shot that piece of film over a year ago.  That is why I have loaded up eight double-sided film holders and am committing to shooting them quickly.  I have to know. 

I made a "discovery" yesterday.  Then I found out that it is something I should have already known.  I was able to clear the a.c. drain line and the a.c. is working again.  I went to the hardware store to get some drain cleaner, as I said I would in yesterday's post, but the one I was looking for by Zep wasn't there.  But ACE hardware had posted a handy-dandy guide to the drain cleaners they sold telling what the pros and cons of each was.  They had two that were microbial drain cleaners.  They work because the microbes in them actually eat and destroy the buildup in the lines, then line the plastic pipes to keep working.  Vinegar only works at the time you put it down the drain, but the microbes keep working to prevent buildup.  After I put it through the drain lines with a hope and a prayer, I Googled "Are microbial drain cleaners good for a.c. drain lines?"

Oh, yes they are.  If you are not using them, you'd better.  But here's the kicker.  There are many brands out there, and one of them is what the repair guy told me to use last time they were out.  

I don't hear so well sometimes.  

So. . . fingers crossed.  

Now my mother is safely ensconced in her home again, as am I.  Now we are back to routine.  

At one-thirty, I had my beauty appointment.  I wanted to tell my tale of woe, but I had to listen to one that was longer.  It is so easy to see other people's fuck ups.  My 47 year old hairdresser (I love using language from olden times) moved in with a cop years ago.  I don't care for him.  She's from Russia, he from the Dominican Republic.  He has built a compound on a big piece of property on the wrong side of the tracks (see?), and rents tiny houses to homeless mothers and drug addicts.  I won't go into it.  But she decided she wanted to give him a baby, so a couple years ago, she got pregnant.  He built her a home hair salon and she quit taking new clients, only working a day or two a week with people who had been "with her" for a long time.  But you had to go to her house.  

He didn't marry her.  Then, when the kid was one, he did.  She had been a hot babe all her life.  She won some minor body building competitions, bikini or fitness or something (I don't pay attention).  She was ripped.  She was also a dancer.  I'm telling you, she'd lived the vida loca.  But she paid the price and had to have a hip replacement last year.  Baby, hip replacement. . . it all took it's toll.  Now?  

So who knew that her married life would be problematic?  

"Most people going through this get divorced," she said.  They don't sleep together now.  Roommates.  

When the foils came off and she had washed my hair, I wasn't quite blond anymore.  She had alternated blond and dark to give me "texture," she said.  Then she began to cut.  When she was finished, I said it looked like I had a hair helmet.  I showed her a photo on my phone of what I had in mind.  

When she finished, I was shorn.  I don't have long hair now.  I am not blond.  People will not ask me if I am a surfer any longer.  

I am church ready.  Normcore.  

I don't care.  I can't look into mirrors any longer.  When I do, I see an old man.  

"Look at this!  My skin is getting crepey."

The hairdresser's husband started doing peptides.  GLP 3s, she said.  He lost a bunch of body fat.  Now that she is working back at her old salon several days a week (think goodness--I hated driving out to her house), she is around "beauty culture" again.  The Russian woman who runs the business is an aesthetician and does all sorts of microneedling and chemical peels and shit I don't even understand.  She has machines.  

"Everybody tells me I need to get on this and do that, but I'm not into it.  I know how to take care of my body naturally."

I've seen her do it before, shedding the pounds, counting macros, as they say.  But all of it to me is counterproductive.  You have to stay on the drugs you take or you will revert, and nobody keeps off the weight they lose in a diet.  

Still, should I do some testosterone replacement therapy?  Should I do the peptides?  In this town, everybody else is doing it.  

Three hours in the beauty chair and I was done.  I paid her a whole bunch of money and made an appointment for five weeks.  I told her I would send her the info on microbial drain cleaners.  

I needed sleep, so last night, I took a Tylenol PM with an ibuprofen.  I slept straight through the night.  

It is Sunday, the Lord's Day.  I opened the Times.  There was this.

Men came with their sons. They came with their pastors. They came with their brothers, their hunting buddies, their Bible study friends.

I sent this to Q.  

"Is this the end of Pride Month or is it a Catholic thing?" I asked.  

"That's just the devil talking through you," he said.  

I sent it to my conservative friend.  

"Democrats or republicans?" I asked.  

I think the world has gotten whacky, then I'll remember "Rocky and Bullwinkle" or "Green Acres" from my childhood.  Still. . . there is the weather.  Climate, I mean.  

Okey dokey, mom's awaiting.  Eggs, toast, Canadian bacon, and navel oranges.  If she can chew.  She is in dental misery.  I'll bet she's not going to want andy of that.  

But I do.  



Available on Netflix.


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