So the car won't be ready for at least two more weeks. Once it was apart there was more damage than originally estimated. I tried to talk my brother into taking title and then my sister-in-law is trying to talk me into keeping it. My brother seems to be having a harder time processing things than I am. That's just my impression. He tells me the same stories and still expresses being dumbfounded and numb. I can hear it in his voice.
I think I know why mother insisted I leave. I offered to stay with her when my brother decided he needed to go home, take his son to school and get cleaned up. She's always protected me. When I was young and a severe asthmatic, doctors had told her to protect me from stress triggers. She always did. When my father slipped off a building at work and fell four stories, when she came down with breast cancer, when my grandmother was terminal... and even later. I just found out the other day my brother had been down with mono last year. Maybe it had to do with my hospitalization at 2 yrs where I spent time in an oxygen tent. That had to scare her. I'm tough intellectually and have learned a bit about coping. I've learned to talk more. I've learned not to bottle things up so much. I've learned a bit about mitigation and distraction. I'm potentially better off than I've ever been as a person, if not in these circumstances. And make no mistake, these circumstances suck.
I think I can live in the house alone if possible, even if just short term. I'm puzzled why my brother expects this could drag out a year. I would be shocked if it even takes six months to have things settled and plans in place to pay off any outstanding debts of the estate. Perhaps I'm too optimistic or just ignorance is bliss in this case.
I found out some things about credit--don't take this as advice, this was just an observation shared with me. It seems if you have old debts, delinquent debts, you're better off letting them go than going back and paying them off. It seems that will reset the virtual clock and it'll take another 7 yrs for those things to fall off your report. I've been fortunate not to have delinquent debts (knock wood). I also learned it's bad to pay off credit cards, they want you to carry a balance so I'll probably just pay down my one card with a balance and keep something on it just for the credit barons.
We're due for rain tonight perhaps and Monday as well. We had a little rain last night and it's been relatively cold. I don't mind. I've got good blankets, a cat and I survived sub-zero wind-chill temperatures during my uni days. That was some trial by freezer my very first winter and we had an Arctic storm! I learned the truth of bone-chilling cold where the very marrow hurt, where the warmth of my eyes causes my glasses to fog up. Where entering a heated room made you feel on fire as you thawed out. It was cool (both ways) but I don't think I'd want to make a habit out of it. I never did find out who pulled the fire alarm when I was in the shower and had to venture into the snow in a bathrobe and bare feet. Drunken idiot most likely.
OK, no duckie on line right now so I've still not talked to him all(?) week; we'll catch up one of these days. I'm off to bed and hopefully Genuine™ sleep!
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Update? Yeah, I Guess It Is...
Life has been difficult. Sleep virtually impossible. Eating is a chore. I'm still in shock. I feel like my head has been hooked up to electrodes and given shock therapy. I'm having a difficult time in the house alone. My brother returns to work and his regular schedule on Tues. Maybe I should've stayed at his place a night but with all the kids I thought it would just make it worse on me. I had an offer to go with them to church tonight but I know I'd be a basket case. I am planning to put together my ebay auctions to avoid a major cash flow problem until the insurance is paid out.
Half the time I want to vomit. I want to just hide and make my brother handle this. It isn't that I can't do the business affairs it's all the alone time in the house. Yes I've got the cat who has barely left me alone but I've just had such a difficult time unplugging my mind so I can rest. And today when I finally did doze off my brother rang. Then I dozed off and my mother's accountant was returning my call. Then I doze off again and the doorbell rings with two women asking for lemons from the tree.
I'm not meant to rest. They say there's no rest for the weary and I'm beginning to believe it.
I just wish someone was here, even just a little time. I know I can step next door and say hello but my neighbor's a caregiver like I was. His wife is a huge task. It's good for both of us to chat but I'm just not feeling up to it tonight.
I keep thinking of how events played. Where mistakes were made or might've been. It really seems this was going to happen no matter what. Mother had faith in me that I could handle this. She wanted me to sort her affairs and so on but the emotional strain is just indescribable.
I told my brother and his wife that I now have a good understanding of why people build relationships, why there are marriages. It's for support in times like these. It might've been an intellectual understood thing before but not comprehended on a gut level. I've never really been alone for long, always a flatmate at uni or here with mother helping her through father's illness. As my brother said this past Christmas it seemed like she and I were hitting a stride, getting beyond those past events and looking to the future. We'd way overspent on his kids and mother and I planned to cut back this year. In retrospect, it was good.
The SIL won't live in this house. She won't even consider it. It's not rational at all and perhaps not even practical depending on what is needed to settle mother's estate. Still, I'm yearning to be around family. I don't have friends locally. Everyone's out of state or out of the country. But I've got my brother's family. They were planning to buy a house this year but appear to be signing another lease. I'm trying to eat a frozen spaghetti meal. Sigh.
She did ask if I was mad she kept bringing mother cigarettes. I told her it bothered me but it's water under the bridge. They were not a factor in this drama and I don't need the stress of holding that as a grudge. She is at least going to try again to quit once and for all herself.
I don't know if this is already in the blog but the autopsy is done, the tissue harvesting was done. She was in the mortuary's care when we made arrangements. At my brother's desire we'll be picking up mother's ashes for transport to the cemetery instead of having them delivered. In the moment, it seemed the least we could do for her. That will be this week. There's very little more I can do without death certificates which will hopefully be available this week as well. Even the most bare bones cremation is thousands of dollars. Mother'd told me she wanted to come this week (when she was feeling better) and pre-pay. That was a tough memory.
I don't really need this house. I don't need to live here. In fact I'd go out of my mind if I stay here for very long alone. I'll be content to sell to settle her estate. Last year we were planning to move ourselves anyway this spring but plans had slowed considerably. Partly with her brother's decision to move out of state for his wife's job.
I hate change. Despise it. I'll most definitely need a steady source of income but I might travel a bit before taking that on. As it is I don't know where I'll want to live. I used to think Vegas because of my uni friend but that seems very questionable now. I'd like to move closer to my brother's family in the short term. But then what? That's enough rambling. My food is nearly back to frozen. I better eat.
Half the time I want to vomit. I want to just hide and make my brother handle this. It isn't that I can't do the business affairs it's all the alone time in the house. Yes I've got the cat who has barely left me alone but I've just had such a difficult time unplugging my mind so I can rest. And today when I finally did doze off my brother rang. Then I dozed off and my mother's accountant was returning my call. Then I doze off again and the doorbell rings with two women asking for lemons from the tree.
I'm not meant to rest. They say there's no rest for the weary and I'm beginning to believe it.
I just wish someone was here, even just a little time. I know I can step next door and say hello but my neighbor's a caregiver like I was. His wife is a huge task. It's good for both of us to chat but I'm just not feeling up to it tonight.
I keep thinking of how events played. Where mistakes were made or might've been. It really seems this was going to happen no matter what. Mother had faith in me that I could handle this. She wanted me to sort her affairs and so on but the emotional strain is just indescribable.
I told my brother and his wife that I now have a good understanding of why people build relationships, why there are marriages. It's for support in times like these. It might've been an intellectual understood thing before but not comprehended on a gut level. I've never really been alone for long, always a flatmate at uni or here with mother helping her through father's illness. As my brother said this past Christmas it seemed like she and I were hitting a stride, getting beyond those past events and looking to the future. We'd way overspent on his kids and mother and I planned to cut back this year. In retrospect, it was good.
The SIL won't live in this house. She won't even consider it. It's not rational at all and perhaps not even practical depending on what is needed to settle mother's estate. Still, I'm yearning to be around family. I don't have friends locally. Everyone's out of state or out of the country. But I've got my brother's family. They were planning to buy a house this year but appear to be signing another lease. I'm trying to eat a frozen spaghetti meal. Sigh.
She did ask if I was mad she kept bringing mother cigarettes. I told her it bothered me but it's water under the bridge. They were not a factor in this drama and I don't need the stress of holding that as a grudge. She is at least going to try again to quit once and for all herself.
I don't know if this is already in the blog but the autopsy is done, the tissue harvesting was done. She was in the mortuary's care when we made arrangements. At my brother's desire we'll be picking up mother's ashes for transport to the cemetery instead of having them delivered. In the moment, it seemed the least we could do for her. That will be this week. There's very little more I can do without death certificates which will hopefully be available this week as well. Even the most bare bones cremation is thousands of dollars. Mother'd told me she wanted to come this week (when she was feeling better) and pre-pay. That was a tough memory.
I don't really need this house. I don't need to live here. In fact I'd go out of my mind if I stay here for very long alone. I'll be content to sell to settle her estate. Last year we were planning to move ourselves anyway this spring but plans had slowed considerably. Partly with her brother's decision to move out of state for his wife's job.
I hate change. Despise it. I'll most definitely need a steady source of income but I might travel a bit before taking that on. As it is I don't know where I'll want to live. I used to think Vegas because of my uni friend but that seems very questionable now. I'd like to move closer to my brother's family in the short term. But then what? That's enough rambling. My food is nearly back to frozen. I better eat.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
A Few Closing Thoughts For Tonight
There were a lot of signs mother subconsciously knew this was coming. I'm become a believer in such things. I get nightmares when I'm sick and no other time. She suddenly had an interest in estate planning although we didn't get everything done; I am hoping this won't be a horrible situation in the outcome. I'm trying to steel myself for major pain. So long as I can keep the cat, some place to live and afford to put food in us, I'm doing OK. For now. The rest is ancillary at this moment.
Mother had said years ago she knew "you'll never leave me." The thought, from the late 90's I'd say (I probably have a record somewhere) scared me. I had images of being "stuck" with another ailing parent. Now that she's passed away, I wish I had a bit more time. I wouldn't be greedy. I'd take a day, a full week is probably pushing it. I feel like I squandered a lot of time. So much time on avoiding things, on dealing with my own issues on maybe not taking enough time with her in these last days. I had hoped to begin having more substantial conversations this year. I waited too long. We're fantastic procrastinators in this family.
I'm distressed by the things she didn't get to do like the travel. She could've traveled but didn't. I should've forced the issue ages ago but I'd become more involved in trying to get her desire into concrete plans. But in the past several weeks she's talked instead about sending me to travel in her place; I could come back and tell her stories of what I'd seen and done. Alas, that'll never be either. Well, we can't *talk* about the travels but I can "tell" her in a way.
My faith has been screwed up. I was perhaps a bit hypocritical and did offer a prayer and I wanted Last Rights for her since her heart was Catholic if her practice was not. She hadn't been a church goer since quitting the Episcopals in the 1970s after voting to ordain women. I've just been having a difficult time sorting out the role of homosexuals in a Christian faith. It seems to run from celibacy-and-no-relationships on one end to entering a reeducation program to purge yourself or something.
I need to nap. I'm getting drowsy. Wish'd Duckie'd been online when I was there.
Mother had said years ago she knew "you'll never leave me." The thought, from the late 90's I'd say (I probably have a record somewhere) scared me. I had images of being "stuck" with another ailing parent. Now that she's passed away, I wish I had a bit more time. I wouldn't be greedy. I'd take a day, a full week is probably pushing it. I feel like I squandered a lot of time. So much time on avoiding things, on dealing with my own issues on maybe not taking enough time with her in these last days. I had hoped to begin having more substantial conversations this year. I waited too long. We're fantastic procrastinators in this family.
I'm distressed by the things she didn't get to do like the travel. She could've traveled but didn't. I should've forced the issue ages ago but I'd become more involved in trying to get her desire into concrete plans. But in the past several weeks she's talked instead about sending me to travel in her place; I could come back and tell her stories of what I'd seen and done. Alas, that'll never be either. Well, we can't *talk* about the travels but I can "tell" her in a way.
My faith has been screwed up. I was perhaps a bit hypocritical and did offer a prayer and I wanted Last Rights for her since her heart was Catholic if her practice was not. She hadn't been a church goer since quitting the Episcopals in the 1970s after voting to ordain women. I've just been having a difficult time sorting out the role of homosexuals in a Christian faith. It seems to run from celibacy-and-no-relationships on one end to entering a reeducation program to purge yourself or something.
I need to nap. I'm getting drowsy. Wish'd Duckie'd been online when I was there.
This Is Not Fun. But It Is Interesting.
From my prior post you can imagine, can't you? Wow. The pneumonia was perhaps pneumonia but wasn't the cause. The back pain she suffered wasn't just back pain. It was caused by some kind of clot event which caused part of her intestine to die, causing a systemic infection. Only the CT scan was able to reveal the damage. We were assured this was one of the hardest diagnoses to make. A similar thing happened to waiting-for-death Israel PM Ariel Sharon very recently.
I've been through all manner of emotions. Anger at myself for not seeing the illness for what it was or perhaps not being aggressive enough in her care. Anger for things I thought. Things unsaid. Our last conversation was mundane. She was telling me things she wanted me to buy for her at the grocery, what pajamas and robe she wanted, to wash her slippers and to clean her bathroom. My brother took the time to tell her he loved her, to talk to her about God and Jesus. While the illness was likely terminal, I did not expect her death so quickly. Yes I recognized her labored breathing as being reminiscent of my father's the morning he died. Yes I was cognizant of the nurse's repeated difficulty to record her blood pressure and the inconsistent oxygen levels blipping on the screen. I understood what the nurse was saying when she said her labs were all over the map and her kidney function was out of whack. But it didn't coalesce into a single emotion. I understood the meaning, not the gravity.
My brother said I should've been angry with him because we went back to his place so he could get cleaned up, shower and see his wife and kids. I went with him. I don't know why. Normally I would've stayed. Yes Mother told me to go to the house. She was a bit adamant. She had gotten very angry with me because I was insisting she finish drinking her CT dye. I'd had an abdominal CT scan before to look for inflammation (none found) so I knew what she should expect. I knew she was in and out of the CT very quickly. Perhaps it wasn't a quirk of my exhausted brain losing time. I was too quickly since even the ER guy who takes and brings patients for tests as needed told me outright, "She can't be done, it's too soon." It took a few extra minutes but she was finished already. I took that as a bad sign.
Somehow my uncle made it from near Los Angeles. My brother's wife had called to tell him about the surgery. After we saw her, and were being ushered away so she could take her trip to the morgue. My brother wanted to take the near elevators and I suggested we go back the way we came. It was fortunate our uncle had sought refuge in the cooler hall seats than the warm waiting room and we went as I directed. Because of that confluence of events, we were able to get him in to see her before she was taken away. I saw a nurse bring him a small box of tissue but don't know what was said. From there I went to Admitting to pay the bill. I remember mother getting hospital bills up to a year after father passed away. She was going to be paid in full. It was $250. I had already had one forgetful moment when I thought I'll have to tell Mother that her brother had come to see her.
I hated going back to my brother's place. I needed quiet and not noisy children. My nephew wanted to come back here with his dad and me but I expressed objection. It really wasn't any place for him. The house needed some cleaning, calls had to be made, I had to let our neighbor know. He took it very hard. Since mother and he were both spouses of stroke-victims, they had some things to share. He'd been good to us since father had passed on. I think I'll go see him tomorrow and return the useful papers he gave me filled with phone numbers. His wife reminded me of my four year old niece. When she asked how my mom was doing, I lied. I'm not given to lies. I guess I finally learned the value of a lie when the person is non-competent, could be very upset and unable to cope with her emotions. She was able to catch on that she'd been hurt from the general conversation but her husband only said yes that she'd been hurt. I mourn his struggle: a widower in effect but not in reality. Like mother was told by one of father's doctors.
Mother was lucky, in a way, she didn't face the lengthy dehumanizing condition that father did. One of no bowel control, no real memory, uncontrolled emotions. She would be glad. It seems so inhumane.
She seems fairly peaceful but not as peaceful. She didn't have the slight smile of her mother. That would've been impossible with her false teeth removed and a breathing tube down her throat--it had to stay in by law. She did not have the terrorized face of my father. I don't think they prepared the body because her eyes had not been fully closed. My brother did that for her and yet one eyelid slid up slightly as if to spy on me. I signed off on an autopsy which had been recommended by the surgeon. Mother and I had spent many a conversation wondering what really killed father, what was really wrong when he needed so many transfusions. We regretted not asking for one but I think I was afraid that I might just see blame: something I overlooked, something we could've done more for him. I told her these things since I know she wasn't thrilled with the idea of being opened up.
I'm thankful she did not die at home. She wouldn't have wanted that and she was quite specific about wanting to be kept at the hospital rather than discharged for home.
This evening a call came to ask for permission to harvest eye, bone and skin tissue for transplants. When the caller mentioned cleft palate as a common use for skin tissue donations I knew I had to go with it. I know mother wasn't interested in organ donation (and she was too old anyway) but I think she'd like to know she was helping kids like my nephew. Mother adored him and began donations to charities who helped such kids.
I asked for a callback and phoned my brother to get his read. He was interested as was his wife. I don't know why her opinion was called for but I did not say anything; she's been very accommodating in recent weeks. I just don't need the stress--who does? I got the callback and did the recorded consent. There were a couple spots I might've second guessed with more time but other than keeping her parts in the US and not allowing her unused parts to be used for scientific study, I mostly went for the whole package. The interviewer was excited because of mother's relatively good health (except for the death part, of course) and basic clean living outside of cigarettes. I'm not interested in following her bits so I don't know if I'll read future mailings. I hope she'd not mad. We had assumed with her breast cancer history she couldn't donate at all but it's been nearly 20 years so it's no problem. It seems while I'm not the oldest child because of my co-residence with her I am the legal next of kin. Just as she wanted.
I did a lot of talking to my Vegas pal today. More time on the phone than in maybe forever. But it helped me get out a lot of things that weren't emotionally appropriate for my brother (or his family). He has his own grief right now. I needed someone with a better read on me and he was the nearest person. I appreciate his taking my calls. I did a lot of choking up tonight. The tissue donor call brought a lot things to a head: I felt like I could do one more thing for mother. We had both been disappointed when father had no interest from donors but we had no realistic expectations there would be any.
I'm going to try to sleep soon. I had a quick nap after an exhausting day. The cat is fed and watered. I have to feed the fish tonight and clean their tanks tomorrow. I'd been waiting so mother could help just like I waited to take the Christmas Tree down until she could help. Yes, it's still up but hasn't been lighted since 12th night if not before.
I need a break. More in a while.
I've been through all manner of emotions. Anger at myself for not seeing the illness for what it was or perhaps not being aggressive enough in her care. Anger for things I thought. Things unsaid. Our last conversation was mundane. She was telling me things she wanted me to buy for her at the grocery, what pajamas and robe she wanted, to wash her slippers and to clean her bathroom. My brother took the time to tell her he loved her, to talk to her about God and Jesus. While the illness was likely terminal, I did not expect her death so quickly. Yes I recognized her labored breathing as being reminiscent of my father's the morning he died. Yes I was cognizant of the nurse's repeated difficulty to record her blood pressure and the inconsistent oxygen levels blipping on the screen. I understood what the nurse was saying when she said her labs were all over the map and her kidney function was out of whack. But it didn't coalesce into a single emotion. I understood the meaning, not the gravity.
My brother said I should've been angry with him because we went back to his place so he could get cleaned up, shower and see his wife and kids. I went with him. I don't know why. Normally I would've stayed. Yes Mother told me to go to the house. She was a bit adamant. She had gotten very angry with me because I was insisting she finish drinking her CT dye. I'd had an abdominal CT scan before to look for inflammation (none found) so I knew what she should expect. I knew she was in and out of the CT very quickly. Perhaps it wasn't a quirk of my exhausted brain losing time. I was too quickly since even the ER guy who takes and brings patients for tests as needed told me outright, "She can't be done, it's too soon." It took a few extra minutes but she was finished already. I took that as a bad sign.
Somehow my uncle made it from near Los Angeles. My brother's wife had called to tell him about the surgery. After we saw her, and were being ushered away so she could take her trip to the morgue. My brother wanted to take the near elevators and I suggested we go back the way we came. It was fortunate our uncle had sought refuge in the cooler hall seats than the warm waiting room and we went as I directed. Because of that confluence of events, we were able to get him in to see her before she was taken away. I saw a nurse bring him a small box of tissue but don't know what was said. From there I went to Admitting to pay the bill. I remember mother getting hospital bills up to a year after father passed away. She was going to be paid in full. It was $250. I had already had one forgetful moment when I thought I'll have to tell Mother that her brother had come to see her.
I hated going back to my brother's place. I needed quiet and not noisy children. My nephew wanted to come back here with his dad and me but I expressed objection. It really wasn't any place for him. The house needed some cleaning, calls had to be made, I had to let our neighbor know. He took it very hard. Since mother and he were both spouses of stroke-victims, they had some things to share. He'd been good to us since father had passed on. I think I'll go see him tomorrow and return the useful papers he gave me filled with phone numbers. His wife reminded me of my four year old niece. When she asked how my mom was doing, I lied. I'm not given to lies. I guess I finally learned the value of a lie when the person is non-competent, could be very upset and unable to cope with her emotions. She was able to catch on that she'd been hurt from the general conversation but her husband only said yes that she'd been hurt. I mourn his struggle: a widower in effect but not in reality. Like mother was told by one of father's doctors.
Mother was lucky, in a way, she didn't face the lengthy dehumanizing condition that father did. One of no bowel control, no real memory, uncontrolled emotions. She would be glad. It seems so inhumane.
She seems fairly peaceful but not as peaceful. She didn't have the slight smile of her mother. That would've been impossible with her false teeth removed and a breathing tube down her throat--it had to stay in by law. She did not have the terrorized face of my father. I don't think they prepared the body because her eyes had not been fully closed. My brother did that for her and yet one eyelid slid up slightly as if to spy on me. I signed off on an autopsy which had been recommended by the surgeon. Mother and I had spent many a conversation wondering what really killed father, what was really wrong when he needed so many transfusions. We regretted not asking for one but I think I was afraid that I might just see blame: something I overlooked, something we could've done more for him. I told her these things since I know she wasn't thrilled with the idea of being opened up.
I'm thankful she did not die at home. She wouldn't have wanted that and she was quite specific about wanting to be kept at the hospital rather than discharged for home.
This evening a call came to ask for permission to harvest eye, bone and skin tissue for transplants. When the caller mentioned cleft palate as a common use for skin tissue donations I knew I had to go with it. I know mother wasn't interested in organ donation (and she was too old anyway) but I think she'd like to know she was helping kids like my nephew. Mother adored him and began donations to charities who helped such kids.
I asked for a callback and phoned my brother to get his read. He was interested as was his wife. I don't know why her opinion was called for but I did not say anything; she's been very accommodating in recent weeks. I just don't need the stress--who does? I got the callback and did the recorded consent. There were a couple spots I might've second guessed with more time but other than keeping her parts in the US and not allowing her unused parts to be used for scientific study, I mostly went for the whole package. The interviewer was excited because of mother's relatively good health (except for the death part, of course) and basic clean living outside of cigarettes. I'm not interested in following her bits so I don't know if I'll read future mailings. I hope she'd not mad. We had assumed with her breast cancer history she couldn't donate at all but it's been nearly 20 years so it's no problem. It seems while I'm not the oldest child because of my co-residence with her I am the legal next of kin. Just as she wanted.
I did a lot of talking to my Vegas pal today. More time on the phone than in maybe forever. But it helped me get out a lot of things that weren't emotionally appropriate for my brother (or his family). He has his own grief right now. I needed someone with a better read on me and he was the nearest person. I appreciate his taking my calls. I did a lot of choking up tonight. The tissue donor call brought a lot things to a head: I felt like I could do one more thing for mother. We had both been disappointed when father had no interest from donors but we had no realistic expectations there would be any.
I'm going to try to sleep soon. I had a quick nap after an exhausting day. The cat is fed and watered. I have to feed the fish tonight and clean their tanks tomorrow. I'd been waiting so mother could help just like I waited to take the Christmas Tree down until she could help. Yes, it's still up but hasn't been lighted since 12th night if not before.
I need a break. More in a while.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Times Like These I Wish I Was A Drinking Man
So life's been complicated lately. Mostly up in my brain. The gay-straight alliance I helped found during my uni days was recently featured in a national story. I passed that along to my Vegas pal since we went to uni together. In return he tells me he's got a boyfriend and just came out to his dad. It's official now: I don't know a single straight person I'm not related to.
Bloody hell.
In other more mundane areas mother's being a lousy patient. The antibiotics are done, the SIL brought over more cigarettes and mother's not had much appetite. The car is now in the shop. Didn't bother with a rental. Brother got that minivan he needed since his family has expanded to five. Faithful readers might remember I went to a new car show with him and we looked at minivans.
I mentioned this to Braan before, about Brokeback. I had a problem with the film and my emotions about it evolved. I'd have talked with him about it but he said the film wasn't interesting enough to discuss. Duckie's not been. Anyway, mulling the film almost immediately after I noticed on a level I was Ennis to someone else as Jack. Back at uni, I mean. So I think about how if he'd been a woman how life would've been so very different, how the situation wouldn't have eaten at me like a pack of ravenous wolves in the midst of a sheep herd. It's been nearly 10 years now. It doesn't bite at me with quite the pain it did.
I have a lot of anger about homosexuals. On one hand I think they ought to be allowed to live and let live but on the other hand they make me nervous. There's some reason, not just paranoia, because I was pursued vigorously, assaulted and abused by a family friend. He was driven with jealousy in part over my emotional connection with my own Jack. I'm still angry at the pain I was caused.
I can watch gay theme films, even queer porn and get along with it more or less. There are some things that I have to turn away from but there's no reason to titillate. One, however, is any expectoration as lubrication. Doesn't matter what context, it makes me want to projectile vomit. I know why. That was the lubricating method of choice for the destructive predatory beast in my life. It's like a flashback moment.
Porn has been a part of my life since I was my eldest nephew's age. He's almost 8. It's had a destructive, or at least distorting impact on my life. When having sex with my girlfriend at uni, I was almost acting out porn scenes. There were photos snapped that first time, now long since destroyed (sorry Duckie--no pix for you). The porn started as pictorial magazines but it wasn't long before video porn came into my life. I've suspected it set forth a environment ripe for confusion because it was so-called double-penetration video: two men and a single woman. At times one man per pelvic entry point and even two men in one pelvic orifice. Toss this in with the absent father (work-addicted) and a protective, controlling mother with a contentious relationship with my brother and it's hardly surprising I've been a mess.
I've had people tell me I was straight, say I was gay-in-denial, say I was bisexual. My own girlfriend thought there was something going on between me and my Jack Twist. There wasn't. Well, there wasn't that we were aware of. Honest affection ran deeply, however. As you might guess, I've heard it all. I've had opportunities for gay sex. It just wasn't me. There might be a strong compassion but there's no sex to be had or given. Sorry.
I feel miserable. Sad. Empty. Perfect timing too: it's Valentines Day.
Bloody hell.
In other more mundane areas mother's being a lousy patient. The antibiotics are done, the SIL brought over more cigarettes and mother's not had much appetite. The car is now in the shop. Didn't bother with a rental. Brother got that minivan he needed since his family has expanded to five. Faithful readers might remember I went to a new car show with him and we looked at minivans.
I mentioned this to Braan before, about Brokeback. I had a problem with the film and my emotions about it evolved. I'd have talked with him about it but he said the film wasn't interesting enough to discuss. Duckie's not been. Anyway, mulling the film almost immediately after I noticed on a level I was Ennis to someone else as Jack. Back at uni, I mean. So I think about how if he'd been a woman how life would've been so very different, how the situation wouldn't have eaten at me like a pack of ravenous wolves in the midst of a sheep herd. It's been nearly 10 years now. It doesn't bite at me with quite the pain it did.
I have a lot of anger about homosexuals. On one hand I think they ought to be allowed to live and let live but on the other hand they make me nervous. There's some reason, not just paranoia, because I was pursued vigorously, assaulted and abused by a family friend. He was driven with jealousy in part over my emotional connection with my own Jack. I'm still angry at the pain I was caused.
I can watch gay theme films, even queer porn and get along with it more or less. There are some things that I have to turn away from but there's no reason to titillate. One, however, is any expectoration as lubrication. Doesn't matter what context, it makes me want to projectile vomit. I know why. That was the lubricating method of choice for the destructive predatory beast in my life. It's like a flashback moment.
Porn has been a part of my life since I was my eldest nephew's age. He's almost 8. It's had a destructive, or at least distorting impact on my life. When having sex with my girlfriend at uni, I was almost acting out porn scenes. There were photos snapped that first time, now long since destroyed (sorry Duckie--no pix for you). The porn started as pictorial magazines but it wasn't long before video porn came into my life. I've suspected it set forth a environment ripe for confusion because it was so-called double-penetration video: two men and a single woman. At times one man per pelvic entry point and even two men in one pelvic orifice. Toss this in with the absent father (work-addicted) and a protective, controlling mother with a contentious relationship with my brother and it's hardly surprising I've been a mess.
I've had people tell me I was straight, say I was gay-in-denial, say I was bisexual. My own girlfriend thought there was something going on between me and my Jack Twist. There wasn't. Well, there wasn't that we were aware of. Honest affection ran deeply, however. As you might guess, I've heard it all. I've had opportunities for gay sex. It just wasn't me. There might be a strong compassion but there's no sex to be had or given. Sorry.
I feel miserable. Sad. Empty. Perfect timing too: it's Valentines Day.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Take Me Out Back and Shoot Me. I'd Feel Better.
Had a car accident in the clinic parking lot. Bah. Car will need front bumper and new hood. Maybe grill too. Scraped my knee. All occupants were properly secured. Concrete is hell on paint!
More meds for Mother but prognosis is OK. Cough is aggravated tissue, not fluid at this point.
I need to find the entrance to my fall-out shelter. The cat's already inside, tuna in hand.
No surprise the widow King memorial was turned into a bashing of Bush. Between Fred Phelps' cult protesting funerals and the liberal party turning them into political rallies does no one give a fig about the dead anymore? Bah.
Edit: I think I read last night Phelps' group was going to show too. Sounds like quite a party.
More meds for Mother but prognosis is OK. Cough is aggravated tissue, not fluid at this point.
I need to find the entrance to my fall-out shelter. The cat's already inside, tuna in hand.
No surprise the widow King memorial was turned into a bashing of Bush. Between Fred Phelps' cult protesting funerals and the liberal party turning them into political rallies does no one give a fig about the dead anymore? Bah.
Edit: I think I read last night Phelps' group was going to show too. Sounds like quite a party.
Monday, February 06, 2006
Odd Day.
Cleaned the dining table today and put on a new table cloth. Looks ok but if the leaf is added, it's too short. In fact, I think all the table cloths are too short for the full-length of the table. Seems like poor planning but I haven't investigated in detail.
So I met the newest nephew today. He held one of my fingers. I declined to hold him; I was sweaty and just wasn't in the mood. He got released from the hospital a day early than expect. Not a bad looking kid and much quieter than I had anticipated for a newborn. The niece deliberately wet herself while I was at the grocery store. It's obvious to me she's having issues with no longer being "Miss Thang," center of the universe. Boo-hoo! Get over yourself and learn some words, you're going to be five years old! When her brother was her current age, or a month younger, just about when I met him he was pretty clear spoken. This girl needs schooling badly.
After groceries and a postal run (why is the flag half-staff?), I climbed out of the car at the drug store (the chemists, for the royal subjects reading) and at my foot was a credit card face down. The curious sort, I picked it up. Someone dropped his platinum card. He hadn't even signed it. I was going to turn it in at the store but I sized up the pair of employees and didn't want to trust them so I pocketed the card and took it home. I phoned the toll-free number on the back. I swear I was talking to India. After a couple disconnects while on hold, I left my name and number with some guy speaking clipped English and shredded the card as instructed. That was my good deed for the day I suppose.
At this point I'd eaten three saltine crackers and finally got back home. I settled on one of the pair of chicken caesar salads and fed mother the turkey frozen dinner she wanted.
I feel bad for the fish, their meals are off schedule. The invasion of relatives made the cat unusually nervous for hours after the coast was clear. Always the paranoid type, she's getting too old for that kind of trauma. At least I brought her crab munchies from the store. Maybe I'll share tuna with her.
Mother was coughing more. The SIL (sister-in-law) gave mother at least one cigarette when I was gone and left another with her when everyone left. I didn't bring death sticks from the store. I'd already had that conversation with Mother: won't buy them. The SIL is the ultimate enabler; what else do you call a person who gives f*gs to a pneumonia patient just one point above needing oxygen? Perhaps I don't understand. I'm not a smoker, the SIL is. Anyway, mother finished the oral steroid pill to help her breathing and has five more days of anti-biotics. I'm more serious about Mother's illness than I let on. It's troubling in that I honestly can say I don't know how many more she has in her until the inevitable.
We had blueberry muffins for 'snack'. My muffin was bland. I ate it anyway. I had two coffees today. I draw the line at that number. I'm not a coffee drinker. Not until this past week, anyway.
My brother's doctor has told him he's too old for push-ups. He's 36.
"Cowboys and Angels" is an amusing gay-themed (not really) film from Ireland. I say not really gay-themed because it has a few gay characters but that's not the center piece of the film but does play a part. I like the end voice over. I need to ponder it and myself.
On balance Ang Lee's films are ponderously boring. Each is like pulling teeth without the drama of having your face jerked from side-to-side or the mist spray of blood as the dentist saws a piece of jawbone for more room.
Canada makes a fabulous Wyoming. Beyond that, save your money on Brokeback Mountain. You might need it for some dental work.
So I met the newest nephew today. He held one of my fingers. I declined to hold him; I was sweaty and just wasn't in the mood. He got released from the hospital a day early than expect. Not a bad looking kid and much quieter than I had anticipated for a newborn. The niece deliberately wet herself while I was at the grocery store. It's obvious to me she's having issues with no longer being "Miss Thang," center of the universe. Boo-hoo! Get over yourself and learn some words, you're going to be five years old! When her brother was her current age, or a month younger, just about when I met him he was pretty clear spoken. This girl needs schooling badly.
After groceries and a postal run (why is the flag half-staff?), I climbed out of the car at the drug store (the chemists, for the royal subjects reading) and at my foot was a credit card face down. The curious sort, I picked it up. Someone dropped his platinum card. He hadn't even signed it. I was going to turn it in at the store but I sized up the pair of employees and didn't want to trust them so I pocketed the card and took it home. I phoned the toll-free number on the back. I swear I was talking to India. After a couple disconnects while on hold, I left my name and number with some guy speaking clipped English and shredded the card as instructed. That was my good deed for the day I suppose.
At this point I'd eaten three saltine crackers and finally got back home. I settled on one of the pair of chicken caesar salads and fed mother the turkey frozen dinner she wanted.
I feel bad for the fish, their meals are off schedule. The invasion of relatives made the cat unusually nervous for hours after the coast was clear. Always the paranoid type, she's getting too old for that kind of trauma. At least I brought her crab munchies from the store. Maybe I'll share tuna with her.
Mother was coughing more. The SIL (sister-in-law) gave mother at least one cigarette when I was gone and left another with her when everyone left. I didn't bring death sticks from the store. I'd already had that conversation with Mother: won't buy them. The SIL is the ultimate enabler; what else do you call a person who gives f*gs to a pneumonia patient just one point above needing oxygen? Perhaps I don't understand. I'm not a smoker, the SIL is. Anyway, mother finished the oral steroid pill to help her breathing and has five more days of anti-biotics. I'm more serious about Mother's illness than I let on. It's troubling in that I honestly can say I don't know how many more she has in her until the inevitable.
We had blueberry muffins for 'snack'. My muffin was bland. I ate it anyway. I had two coffees today. I draw the line at that number. I'm not a coffee drinker. Not until this past week, anyway.
My brother's doctor has told him he's too old for push-ups. He's 36.
"Cowboys and Angels" is an amusing gay-themed (not really) film from Ireland. I say not really gay-themed because it has a few gay characters but that's not the center piece of the film but does play a part. I like the end voice over. I need to ponder it and myself.
On balance Ang Lee's films are ponderously boring. Each is like pulling teeth without the drama of having your face jerked from side-to-side or the mist spray of blood as the dentist saws a piece of jawbone for more room.
Canada makes a fabulous Wyoming. Beyond that, save your money on Brokeback Mountain. You might need it for some dental work.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Groundhog's Day 2006
So the beast Phil saw its shadow. That's the groundhog, not Dr. Phil. Easy to get confused.
Yesterday finally got mother to the doctor. She's being treated for pneumonia although it's inconclusive whether she's actually got it or not. Since she's already COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease), such things aren't welcome. She had some lower back spasms too which she described as worse than labor pains. Now let's keep in mind she's been sick almost two full weeks. Let me warn readers that old people, especially parents, make for lousy patients. She got a chest x-ray that was sent off for further analysis and did a breathing treatment. I used to do those as a kid for my asthma. I've even got a photo of me with my mask on, the luggable respirator on the kitchen counter. Those were the days! It's probably surprising I survived at all considering I lived in a house with three chain smokers. So before I get too deep into memory lane, I was talking about the wonders of managed health care. The pharmacy missed one of the prescriptions because it'd been written up on the address line. I had to go back to waiting. I'd already been in the building three hours and my head was pounding. Finally bored with the lumpy jeezer in a "Look Better NAKED" T-shirt's comments to complete strangers, I got back in line and I decided if they didn't have it ready when I got back to the counter I'd need to start taking hostages. It was ready so I didn't make the evening news.
Mother seems no worse today, perhaps a bit more chipper but narcotic pain killers can do that to you.
The cat and fish are fine. I'm a bit screwed up and off schedule. I'll deal.
The pending newborn nephew hasn't been born just yet. Well as of Wednesday anyway. If he doesn't escape by Monday, labor will be induced. Somehow I still don't care. I mean, it's good for him I guess. Duckie won't believe what his name is going to be. His dad has a birthday coming up in the next several days.
I'm having coffee. Me! Coffee! That's a sign of the Apocalypse, surely. What's the world coming to?
Yesterday finally got mother to the doctor. She's being treated for pneumonia although it's inconclusive whether she's actually got it or not. Since she's already COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease), such things aren't welcome. She had some lower back spasms too which she described as worse than labor pains. Now let's keep in mind she's been sick almost two full weeks. Let me warn readers that old people, especially parents, make for lousy patients. She got a chest x-ray that was sent off for further analysis and did a breathing treatment. I used to do those as a kid for my asthma. I've even got a photo of me with my mask on, the luggable respirator on the kitchen counter. Those were the days! It's probably surprising I survived at all considering I lived in a house with three chain smokers. So before I get too deep into memory lane, I was talking about the wonders of managed health care. The pharmacy missed one of the prescriptions because it'd been written up on the address line. I had to go back to waiting. I'd already been in the building three hours and my head was pounding. Finally bored with the lumpy jeezer in a "Look Better NAKED" T-shirt's comments to complete strangers, I got back in line and I decided if they didn't have it ready when I got back to the counter I'd need to start taking hostages. It was ready so I didn't make the evening news.
Mother seems no worse today, perhaps a bit more chipper but narcotic pain killers can do that to you.
The cat and fish are fine. I'm a bit screwed up and off schedule. I'll deal.
The pending newborn nephew hasn't been born just yet. Well as of Wednesday anyway. If he doesn't escape by Monday, labor will be induced. Somehow I still don't care. I mean, it's good for him I guess. Duckie won't believe what his name is going to be. His dad has a birthday coming up in the next several days.
I'm having coffee. Me! Coffee! That's a sign of the Apocalypse, surely. What's the world coming to?
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Friday, January 27, 2006
Turning a Corner?
Perhaps I'm turning a corner this week. Either I'm feeling a euphoria from a lack of caloric intake or I'm turning a bit of a corner with my decades long war with myself. I'm not ready to jinx it so you'll have to wait for more detail.
There was no Shawn Pyfrom or Ryan Carnes in Housewives this past week. Wait. That's not entirely true. Shawn appeared in a split second recap of a moment from season 1.
I happened to realize last evening that an overarching reason I haven't visited folks Down Under (nor much anywhere) is trust. Not of outside forces and folks as much as myself. Who, how, what do I behave like? Am I really repressed? Am I satisfied being a relative square? Would I find myself flirting too much with danger? Danger as in a tease? It's a bit like an email I got from another frustrated soul: To Date or Not To Date. Seems to be on many minds these days. What's the point if you know you're not going to settle down with that person? What's the point if you're not self-assured enough not to be wrestling your own moods while working on a relationship foundation? What's the point of dating women or men, men or women if you're not going to have sex with them? I've been hearing laments about the oversexed nature of homosexuals. It makes me sigh with sympathy and comprehension. I know just as many who are self-loathing after brief encounters as those who have gone on the public bath and gym shower circuits. Neither have seemed particularly happy.
There's a lot of discontent in life. Expectations we create for ourselves, about life and living. We don't live up to them. Or sometimes we do and find our imaginations exceeded what reality was able to provide. Pain in the ass, really.
I'm developing a 'thing' (I don't know what kind of thing so don't ask) for accented English. Brits, Scots, Irish, Aussies, Canucks… That about covers it. Wait! I forgot the Kiwis. (Oops! Sorry Drew!) Jus' iz long as it ain't Am'rican ghetto talk, dawg.
There's this character on CSI:NY, Danny Messer, with this NY accent which makes me want to take a potato peeler to my spinal column. I thought it was just a really bad bogus accent but IMDB assures me he's from Staten Island NY. Maybe he's self conscious about it. I'll pause here because Duckie is begging me to give him attention.
There was no Shawn Pyfrom or Ryan Carnes in Housewives this past week. Wait. That's not entirely true. Shawn appeared in a split second recap of a moment from season 1.
I happened to realize last evening that an overarching reason I haven't visited folks Down Under (nor much anywhere) is trust. Not of outside forces and folks as much as myself. Who, how, what do I behave like? Am I really repressed? Am I satisfied being a relative square? Would I find myself flirting too much with danger? Danger as in a tease? It's a bit like an email I got from another frustrated soul: To Date or Not To Date. Seems to be on many minds these days. What's the point if you know you're not going to settle down with that person? What's the point if you're not self-assured enough not to be wrestling your own moods while working on a relationship foundation? What's the point of dating women or men, men or women if you're not going to have sex with them? I've been hearing laments about the oversexed nature of homosexuals. It makes me sigh with sympathy and comprehension. I know just as many who are self-loathing after brief encounters as those who have gone on the public bath and gym shower circuits. Neither have seemed particularly happy.
There's a lot of discontent in life. Expectations we create for ourselves, about life and living. We don't live up to them. Or sometimes we do and find our imaginations exceeded what reality was able to provide. Pain in the ass, really.
I'm developing a 'thing' (I don't know what kind of thing so don't ask) for accented English. Brits, Scots, Irish, Aussies, Canucks… That about covers it. Wait! I forgot the Kiwis. (Oops! Sorry Drew!) Jus' iz long as it ain't Am'rican ghetto talk, dawg.
There's this character on CSI:NY, Danny Messer, with this NY accent which makes me want to take a potato peeler to my spinal column. I thought it was just a really bad bogus accent but IMDB assures me he's from Staten Island NY. Maybe he's self conscious about it. I'll pause here because Duckie is begging me to give him attention.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Five Button Mouse on a Mac?
So do you want more buttons but have trouble finding one that looks right with your Mac? Have you gone to your Apple Store and tried the four-button MightyMouse (US$49) only to find its pea-sized scrolling ball feels creepy? Well, how would you feel about five (5) buttons and scroll wheel for ten bucks less?
The white and silver HP Optical 5 Button Mouse looks good with Apple's white keyboards. You get five buttons and a scroll wheel (glows blue when you move the mouse). Ok, you give up the 360˚ feature of the MightyMouse but you gain an extra button! The mouse is wired (I don't do wireless) but is under US$20.
WAIT! Why did I say US$39 above?
Well, the mouse is Windows-only in the box. However Mac folks are a ingenious lot and thanks to "USB Overdrive" (shareware) the HP Mouse works great with Mac OS (MacOS 9 or later). All five buttons worth and scroll wheel are configurable. Works in Tiger (both PowerPC & Intel) and works with mice, joysticks and other USB pointing devices. You can even configure the buttons on a per-app basis.
If you want to set the 4th & 5th buttons to Exposè or Dashboard, don't use the System Settings' Mouse panel. Instead, use the USB Overdrive panel (in System Settings) and set the buttons to the keyboard equivalents for activating those features. For example, to get "F12" (default hot key for Dashboard in System Settings) set as a button in the USB Overdrive settings, hold down Option and tab the F12 key.
The white and silver HP Optical 5 Button Mouse looks good with Apple's white keyboards. You get five buttons and a scroll wheel (glows blue when you move the mouse). Ok, you give up the 360˚ feature of the MightyMouse but you gain an extra button! The mouse is wired (I don't do wireless) but is under US$20.
WAIT! Why did I say US$39 above?
Well, the mouse is Windows-only in the box. However Mac folks are a ingenious lot and thanks to "USB Overdrive" (shareware) the HP Mouse works great with Mac OS (MacOS 9 or later). All five buttons worth and scroll wheel are configurable. Works in Tiger (both PowerPC & Intel) and works with mice, joysticks and other USB pointing devices. You can even configure the buttons on a per-app basis.
If you want to set the 4th & 5th buttons to Exposè or Dashboard, don't use the System Settings' Mouse panel. Instead, use the USB Overdrive panel (in System Settings) and set the buttons to the keyboard equivalents for activating those features. For example, to get "F12" (default hot key for Dashboard in System Settings) set as a button in the USB Overdrive settings, hold down Option and tab the F12 key.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Lance Bass is simply phenominal...
So he's done it again. Apparently. Just yesterday it was announced he and Joey Fatone would star in a new pseudo-reality show for UPN (United Paramount Network) this fall. It is described as being like "The Odd Couple" with Lance playing the uptight neat-freak and Joey the slob. Here's what UPN's network president Dawn Ostroff said in Monday's news stories: "Joey and Lance are such fun, interesting people and they truly are an odd couple — even if you sit in a room with them, it's Felix and Oscar in many ways." Ostroff called the idea a "classic kind of story" that could resonate for a new generation."
TODAY, the announcement comes that The WB network and UPN will cease to exist in the fall of 2006. From the ash heap of half-baked programs and ethnic pandering comes the CW Network from Warner Bros. and Paramount.
Lance Bass has become the Jessica Fletcher* of Hollywood projects: going into space for MTV, redoing Grease, at least one tv series, a remake of Great Gatsby, a Holocaust film and now this!
I have a feeling Everwood's going to get the ax as there's really no indication any programs are moving from either UPN or WB to the new CW.
* Fictional mystery writing best seller of TV's "Murder She Wrote" who solved murders every show for some 12 seasons. Dead people just seemed to happen everywhere she went.
TODAY, the announcement comes that The WB network and UPN will cease to exist in the fall of 2006. From the ash heap of half-baked programs and ethnic pandering comes the CW Network from Warner Bros. and Paramount.
Lance Bass has become the Jessica Fletcher* of Hollywood projects: going into space for MTV, redoing Grease, at least one tv series, a remake of Great Gatsby, a Holocaust film and now this!
I have a feeling Everwood's going to get the ax as there's really no indication any programs are moving from either UPN or WB to the new CW.
* Fictional mystery writing best seller of TV's "Murder She Wrote" who solved murders every show for some 12 seasons. Dead people just seemed to happen everywhere she went.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Many bits to talk about
First off I've been sick a bit this week which annoys me. I hate communing with the porceline throne. Maybe if I installed an LCD-TV... anyway, MacWorld was this past week. I was disappointed with the Keynote. If you're eager for the Intel-based Macs, wait. Some features that were in the Powerbooks before are gone like S-Video and no one is clear what the battery time will be like. MacBook Pro is a ****house product name. Powerbook was the Mac notebook line before they ever moved to PowerPC processors. If you're in the market for a Mac, why not get today's tech instead of going to the first of the next generation which will obsolete by the time most of the Mac user base moved to the Intel-based systems? Seems reasonable to wait close to a year.
College friend from Las Vegas phoned for my birthday. We haven't talked in a year because, well, I hate telephones. It was a nice surprise. He's well.
There might be another nephew on offer. A newborn! He's due this month. I think this is a study in insanity considering the financial strain. I've joked with others that someone's bound to be marked for assassination. Or someone won a big pot of dough. My excitement for this is on lifesupport.
What else? I haven't seen Brokeback Mtn. but just might. If it's still playing when I'm feeling mostly human again.
The Shield started this week. It was OK. Not spectacular but not exactly bad. I'm cautiously optimistic. Desperate Housewives has continued to show scantily clad Shawn Pyfrom (as Bree's bad seed Andrew) and Ryan Carnes (his 'friend with benefits'). There's little else to recommend continued viewership of that show at this time. Another episode is coming tomorrow so maybe it'll improve.
There's damn little else on TV I bother with. It's more filled with cliches or obvious plot twists or marginal acting while not being escapist entertainment than at any time in memory. "Bah," I say.
I'm tired; I want a nap. Brother's supposed to come by so I can't really sleep. No dinner out. The street is finally wet, I guess there's been a bit of rain.
More when I'm feeling healthy enough to type.
College friend from Las Vegas phoned for my birthday. We haven't talked in a year because, well, I hate telephones. It was a nice surprise. He's well.
There might be another nephew on offer. A newborn! He's due this month. I think this is a study in insanity considering the financial strain. I've joked with others that someone's bound to be marked for assassination. Or someone won a big pot of dough. My excitement for this is on lifesupport.
What else? I haven't seen Brokeback Mtn. but just might. If it's still playing when I'm feeling mostly human again.
The Shield started this week. It was OK. Not spectacular but not exactly bad. I'm cautiously optimistic. Desperate Housewives has continued to show scantily clad Shawn Pyfrom (as Bree's bad seed Andrew) and Ryan Carnes (his 'friend with benefits'). There's little else to recommend continued viewership of that show at this time. Another episode is coming tomorrow so maybe it'll improve.
There's damn little else on TV I bother with. It's more filled with cliches or obvious plot twists or marginal acting while not being escapist entertainment than at any time in memory. "Bah," I say.
I'm tired; I want a nap. Brother's supposed to come by so I can't really sleep. No dinner out. The street is finally wet, I guess there's been a bit of rain.
More when I'm feeling healthy enough to type.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Hello... Dolly?
Yes, this is my first live post of the new year. I'll probably add a few things later on and do some 'serious' blogging in the next week. Well, I'll try!
But I've got to ask: how many drugs were abused in deciding "The Producers" would be worth a $45 million budget? This musical is a remake of a Mel Brooks classic featuring the song "Springtime for Hitler and Germany." I sat through most of the original. It wasn't that funny and I've actually liked some (parts of?) musicals* and Mel Brooks is reasonably capable of writing humor but it just didn't do it for me.
* Ok, give me time to think of some filmed musicals... uh... "The Sound of Music" sucked. "Hello Dolly" has one number I'd cut (painfully long number at the gazebo) but the huge title production with Louis Armstrong makes up for it. I guess "Mary Poppins" is a musical but I can't stand Dick Van Dyke and wish his chimney sweep fell off the roof! "The Music Man" is brilliantly done by Robert Preston (forget the Matthew Broderick remake). Every copy of "Mame" with Lucile Ball should be burnt. Go see the outrageous non-musical comedy "Autie Mame" with Ros Russell or if you really want to sample the original Broadway show "Mame" pick up the cast album with Angela Lansbury in the title roll. Elton John & Tim Rice's "Aida" is an enjoyable stage musical. The cast album is hurt by the pathetic male lead. I saw it with a stronger performer cast.
But I've got to ask: how many drugs were abused in deciding "The Producers" would be worth a $45 million budget? This musical is a remake of a Mel Brooks classic featuring the song "Springtime for Hitler and Germany." I sat through most of the original. It wasn't that funny and I've actually liked some (parts of?) musicals* and Mel Brooks is reasonably capable of writing humor but it just didn't do it for me.
* Ok, give me time to think of some filmed musicals... uh... "The Sound of Music" sucked. "Hello Dolly" has one number I'd cut (painfully long number at the gazebo) but the huge title production with Louis Armstrong makes up for it. I guess "Mary Poppins" is a musical but I can't stand Dick Van Dyke and wish his chimney sweep fell off the roof! "The Music Man" is brilliantly done by Robert Preston (forget the Matthew Broderick remake). Every copy of "Mame" with Lucile Ball should be burnt. Go see the outrageous non-musical comedy "Autie Mame" with Ros Russell or if you really want to sample the original Broadway show "Mame" pick up the cast album with Angela Lansbury in the title roll. Elton John & Tim Rice's "Aida" is an enjoyable stage musical. The cast album is hurt by the pathetic male lead. I saw it with a stronger performer cast.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Tiredness...
Very tired. Feel like I was dragged through a cobblestone street by a team of bison on stampede. Ugh. The kids were "ok" well except for the nephew's excessively high pitched screaming. I could've done without that.
Maybe the worst part of the experience was fighting with the iPod for Mother. The lights worked, iTunes showed the songs stored but there was no damned audible sound! Something obviously went wrong during one of the times the install crashed on Windows XP. I was starting to dream of the lanyard as a noose! Finally it worked after doing a "reset to factory settings" and she's listening away. Clearly Apple has work to do to make it more bulletproof and Microsoft can **** itself sidewise with a bail of razor wire. A pox on that company.
This was more emotionally taxing than changing the Transformer I'd gotten my brother into the robot form. That was tedious. It wasn't "hard" it was just more complex than expected, the modern instructions SUCK and I was a bit too cautious on what was a moveable part and what was not. Sometimes those joints are very stiff and need some decent muscle behind them to move. Who decided this was a suitable toy for ages 5+? I say it's too complex. However, the thing is brilliant! Very attractive in both forms. I got it specifically for the car state and because my brother was also a Transformers fan growing up.
The food was... well not as greasy as some years. In fact the biscuits were giant croutons by the time the SIL remembered them in the oven. Oops. I ate some of them anyway. It was almost like old times when mother used to good. Everything had to be mummified right from the oven: mashed potatoes, meats, mac-n-cheese...
I'd only eaten a blueberry muffin today. I filled up on carbs: potatoes, breads, stuffing. The dehydrated turkey. The green beans were canned! CANNED! Sure they were store-brand but they were C-A-N-N-E-D. Frozen is the only suitable non-fresh veggie form. Canned! I wanted to cry for these poor once organic, now metallic things. They didn't harm anyway. Didn't stay for desert in case fog was thick on the journey back to the zilla's cave. Some cookies were given as a parting gift. The SIL was embarrassed they turned out so flat although she assured us they tasted fine. I've used that recipe before, in my uni days. They'd go pretty flat. I used to use a recipe from someone but since he committed suicide it just hasn't seemed right. That and I can get pre-made cookie dough inexpensively (Nestle Tollhouse in the tube, not those break-and-bakes which use a different formulation) and get a fine, consistent cookie. I like to freeze the dough roll and then cut it (a benefit of good german knives), package and all into "coins" giving me around 16 or so.
The SIL's brother's son might be a Jew but the kid, apparently, has no concept of his roots. He "gets" Christmas but not Hanukkah. Pity. Jews have a very rich history. He's probably 5 by now.
Will write more as time allows. I'm on the verge of collapse.
Maybe the worst part of the experience was fighting with the iPod for Mother. The lights worked, iTunes showed the songs stored but there was no damned audible sound! Something obviously went wrong during one of the times the install crashed on Windows XP. I was starting to dream of the lanyard as a noose! Finally it worked after doing a "reset to factory settings" and she's listening away. Clearly Apple has work to do to make it more bulletproof and Microsoft can **** itself sidewise with a bail of razor wire. A pox on that company.
This was more emotionally taxing than changing the Transformer I'd gotten my brother into the robot form. That was tedious. It wasn't "hard" it was just more complex than expected, the modern instructions SUCK and I was a bit too cautious on what was a moveable part and what was not. Sometimes those joints are very stiff and need some decent muscle behind them to move. Who decided this was a suitable toy for ages 5+? I say it's too complex. However, the thing is brilliant! Very attractive in both forms. I got it specifically for the car state and because my brother was also a Transformers fan growing up.
The food was... well not as greasy as some years. In fact the biscuits were giant croutons by the time the SIL remembered them in the oven. Oops. I ate some of them anyway. It was almost like old times when mother used to good. Everything had to be mummified right from the oven: mashed potatoes, meats, mac-n-cheese...
I'd only eaten a blueberry muffin today. I filled up on carbs: potatoes, breads, stuffing. The dehydrated turkey. The green beans were canned! CANNED! Sure they were store-brand but they were C-A-N-N-E-D. Frozen is the only suitable non-fresh veggie form. Canned! I wanted to cry for these poor once organic, now metallic things. They didn't harm anyway. Didn't stay for desert in case fog was thick on the journey back to the zilla's cave. Some cookies were given as a parting gift. The SIL was embarrassed they turned out so flat although she assured us they tasted fine. I've used that recipe before, in my uni days. They'd go pretty flat. I used to use a recipe from someone but since he committed suicide it just hasn't seemed right. That and I can get pre-made cookie dough inexpensively (Nestle Tollhouse in the tube, not those break-and-bakes which use a different formulation) and get a fine, consistent cookie. I like to freeze the dough roll and then cut it (a benefit of good german knives), package and all into "coins" giving me around 16 or so.
The SIL's brother's son might be a Jew but the kid, apparently, has no concept of his roots. He "gets" Christmas but not Hanukkah. Pity. Jews have a very rich history. He's probably 5 by now.
Will write more as time allows. I'm on the verge of collapse.
I Need Drag Queen Training...
So I was going to wear red and green nail polishes for Christmas. Well, let's just say that I'd be fired the first episode if Rupaul had an Apprentice TV series. I did one green thumb and it was blotchy, then smeared... I couldn't get it to smooth out. Boo-hoo. Dejected, I got the polish remover. So I gave up on this idea. I guess it'll be a butch Christmas after all. Oh my... I suddenly have the melody of "It's a small world afterall" in my head! When I was small I dragged a victimized parent (or guardian, I don't remember who "volunteered") back through the "Small World" ride at Disney because I loved it. It's still really cool in my mind and who doesn't like the song. Right? RIGHT!? Ok, everyone hates the song but I was a kid and I liked it dang it!
So it's Christmas, wrapping up Down Under in about 90 minutes and just over 3 hours old here in the Western States. I've got the car packed and just wrapped two books for the nephew. The cat's stocking has her new collar in it and the catnip and hairball paste are on the mantel above.
I don't know if I want to do dinner with the SIL, et al. First off, garlic has no business in mashed potatoes! Second, the butter content is high enough to put a team of cardiologists on the moon. Third, I'll either be tired as hell and fall asleep on the sofa or my head will feel like a slowing tightening noose as the neice and nephew bounce off the walls. And if the SIL's brother's son is there to whine like a banshee I'll be down for the count. Kid's a Jew, what's he doing celebrating Christmas anyway? Will the Tylenol flow like baby's drool? Ok, so I'm feeling a bit anxious finally. I haven't really played "uncle" this year and I'm kind of burned out at the thought. Ok, I don't want to do dinner but told mother is she *really* wants to stay, fine. We'll stay and I'll play plate hockey with a slab of dried up turkey flesh. Maybe I can fill up on biscuits and honey like last year?
Maybe I'm just uptight about the hackish acting adults invariably do when getting gifts. I can tell. I have the emotional intelligence of an amoeba but I'm not blind. I know my brother's gotten me something and he has already said he thinks I'll like it which is code for "Fake it if you have to, you fuck."
We three (brother, myself and Mother) went out to the cemetary yesterday to deliver the little Christmas tree for Father. I didn't really "visit" with him. What am I going to say to a slab of marble? "Hi there. You're dead and I'm not, see you next time." So I wandered the nearby markers taking note of dates and what wars were served in. One was depressing since it was for a soldier's twin sons. Born and died the same day. Both of them. Must've been a living hell. And there's a missing headstone. There's no temporary between old and new markers so I guess the person was "dug up" and no one has been put in that open spot. Maybe Father wanted a better view. It's right in front of him. Still, I can understand going out there and cleaning off the pine needles or fertilizer but what's this business of getting all sentimental and "talking" to the dead? I cleaned off a couple of markers which were put down in September. I thought it was the least I could do. Besides, Father haunts my dreams many a night as it is. I admit I "feel" more for Father than I did when he was alive. It's very strange but perhaps it's because he was so closed off in life that in death he can't remind me of how distant he was even in the same room. We had a terribly disconnected relationship. I did my best by him in the end. I think we reached some kind of "understanding" on that level. Maybe I'm projecting but who cares? Just me I guess, so fuck off. :)
What did all of my loyal readers do with their Christmas cheer? Ok, there's no loyalty among readers. We all know that!
The first "gay themed" film I can recall watching was something called "Edge of Seventeen" which is set in the 1980's and features the song "Hey Mickey." It's not high art by any measure but there's some truth in the scene where the main character Eric tells Maggie, his best friend (girl) that he wants to be with her and that he can love her "like that." This is after he "came out" to her and had experimented with (groan) Rod. Eric thought Rod "loved" him but Rod goes back to college and Eric learns he was just a fling. The weight of this realization lead him to wooing Maggie who has long had feelings for him. After he sleeps with Maggie, she realizes he's cold the next morning and that he really doesn't (or can't) love her "like that" so she storms out. At the same time (hey, I said this wasn't "high art") his mom finds a matchbook from a gay club in his laundry and confronts him. He chases after Maggie. At the end, their friendship is apparently over. He ends up at the gay club and "out" to his mom. Whether he ends up going to NY or not to study music is left to the viewer.
*sigh*
So it's Christmas, wrapping up Down Under in about 90 minutes and just over 3 hours old here in the Western States. I've got the car packed and just wrapped two books for the nephew. The cat's stocking has her new collar in it and the catnip and hairball paste are on the mantel above.
I don't know if I want to do dinner with the SIL, et al. First off, garlic has no business in mashed potatoes! Second, the butter content is high enough to put a team of cardiologists on the moon. Third, I'll either be tired as hell and fall asleep on the sofa or my head will feel like a slowing tightening noose as the neice and nephew bounce off the walls. And if the SIL's brother's son is there to whine like a banshee I'll be down for the count. Kid's a Jew, what's he doing celebrating Christmas anyway? Will the Tylenol flow like baby's drool? Ok, so I'm feeling a bit anxious finally. I haven't really played "uncle" this year and I'm kind of burned out at the thought. Ok, I don't want to do dinner but told mother is she *really* wants to stay, fine. We'll stay and I'll play plate hockey with a slab of dried up turkey flesh. Maybe I can fill up on biscuits and honey like last year?
Maybe I'm just uptight about the hackish acting adults invariably do when getting gifts. I can tell. I have the emotional intelligence of an amoeba but I'm not blind. I know my brother's gotten me something and he has already said he thinks I'll like it which is code for "Fake it if you have to, you fuck."
We three (brother, myself and Mother) went out to the cemetary yesterday to deliver the little Christmas tree for Father. I didn't really "visit" with him. What am I going to say to a slab of marble? "Hi there. You're dead and I'm not, see you next time." So I wandered the nearby markers taking note of dates and what wars were served in. One was depressing since it was for a soldier's twin sons. Born and died the same day. Both of them. Must've been a living hell. And there's a missing headstone. There's no temporary between old and new markers so I guess the person was "dug up" and no one has been put in that open spot. Maybe Father wanted a better view. It's right in front of him. Still, I can understand going out there and cleaning off the pine needles or fertilizer but what's this business of getting all sentimental and "talking" to the dead? I cleaned off a couple of markers which were put down in September. I thought it was the least I could do. Besides, Father haunts my dreams many a night as it is. I admit I "feel" more for Father than I did when he was alive. It's very strange but perhaps it's because he was so closed off in life that in death he can't remind me of how distant he was even in the same room. We had a terribly disconnected relationship. I did my best by him in the end. I think we reached some kind of "understanding" on that level. Maybe I'm projecting but who cares? Just me I guess, so fuck off. :)
What did all of my loyal readers do with their Christmas cheer? Ok, there's no loyalty among readers. We all know that!
The first "gay themed" film I can recall watching was something called "Edge of Seventeen" which is set in the 1980's and features the song "Hey Mickey." It's not high art by any measure but there's some truth in the scene where the main character Eric tells Maggie, his best friend (girl) that he wants to be with her and that he can love her "like that." This is after he "came out" to her and had experimented with (groan) Rod. Eric thought Rod "loved" him but Rod goes back to college and Eric learns he was just a fling. The weight of this realization lead him to wooing Maggie who has long had feelings for him. After he sleeps with Maggie, she realizes he's cold the next morning and that he really doesn't (or can't) love her "like that" so she storms out. At the same time (hey, I said this wasn't "high art") his mom finds a matchbook from a gay club in his laundry and confronts him. He chases after Maggie. At the end, their friendship is apparently over. He ends up at the gay club and "out" to his mom. Whether he ends up going to NY or not to study music is left to the viewer.
*sigh*
Friday, December 23, 2005
Actor Brad Renfro Arrested in "Skid Row" Drug Bust
Most remember him from "The Client" 11 years ago (IMDB entry) it's horrible to see what he looks like today (age 23!). L.A. Times news of arrest.
In earlier times:
Another young Hollywood star, Devon Sawa ("Final Destination"), was arrested during the past month in Burbank but I don't know the nature of the charge.
In earlier times:
Another young Hollywood star, Devon Sawa ("Final Destination"), was arrested during the past month in Burbank but I don't know the nature of the charge.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Monday, December 12, 2005
Yes, I'm still alive!
Been lazy on updating the blog. You know how the holidays can be. The past two days I've been feeling uncharacteristically "good" which, of course, makes me immediately suspicious.
All the gifts are wrapped. My brother was over the other day to put together the niece's bicycle. I think we're owed a set of reflectors because I can't imagine why a bicycle would be sold without them for the usual spots when the pedals have some built in. What else? Oh, the tree finally got up. That's actually big news.
It's a brand-new artificial tree with the lights pre-hung. We bought a pile of decorations back in the 2003 holiday season but never used them for our holiday spirit was pretty much in the toilet in light of father's death in '02. Well they're up on the tree this year. Brother said he couldn't remember the last time we had a full-sized tree. It's probably been easily over 10 years, maybe closer to 15. Since then we've either done without or had very small trees of maybe 1 meter.
So the nephew is getting a lump of coal from his parents. Seriously. Seems they're for sale online. Ok, that's not all he's getting but this is the "gag" gift. Now before learning of this, I took ages to individually wrap each of his gifts and then put them in one box and wrap it so it looks as if he's shorted. The kid's going to need therapy. No, it's the niece that needs therapy or something. She's still not embracing learning and the alphabet and it looks like she won't be able to get into a pre-school. I'll consider an intervention if she's not improved by springtime. We know from other evaluations that she's six months back of her peers but I'm not convinced she's going to be ready for Kindergarten in 2006. The sister-in-law is getting a remote control spider. Yes, this is the arachnophobic SIL. OK, so what good is a spell-checker if it misses words that are in the damned included dictionary? Bah. Technology by trilobites.
I had a wet dream the other day. I know because, well... anyway I can't remember a damned thing about the dream. That's not fair!
I have some entertainment comments to catch up on with Prison Break on a fall hiatus until March or something and with some movies to spout off on too. But that can wait.
All the gifts are wrapped. My brother was over the other day to put together the niece's bicycle. I think we're owed a set of reflectors because I can't imagine why a bicycle would be sold without them for the usual spots when the pedals have some built in. What else? Oh, the tree finally got up. That's actually big news.
It's a brand-new artificial tree with the lights pre-hung. We bought a pile of decorations back in the 2003 holiday season but never used them for our holiday spirit was pretty much in the toilet in light of father's death in '02. Well they're up on the tree this year. Brother said he couldn't remember the last time we had a full-sized tree. It's probably been easily over 10 years, maybe closer to 15. Since then we've either done without or had very small trees of maybe 1 meter.
So the nephew is getting a lump of coal from his parents. Seriously. Seems they're for sale online. Ok, that's not all he's getting but this is the "gag" gift. Now before learning of this, I took ages to individually wrap each of his gifts and then put them in one box and wrap it so it looks as if he's shorted. The kid's going to need therapy. No, it's the niece that needs therapy or something. She's still not embracing learning and the alphabet and it looks like she won't be able to get into a pre-school. I'll consider an intervention if she's not improved by springtime. We know from other evaluations that she's six months back of her peers but I'm not convinced she's going to be ready for Kindergarten in 2006. The sister-in-law is getting a remote control spider. Yes, this is the arachnophobic SIL. OK, so what good is a spell-checker if it misses words that are in the damned included dictionary? Bah. Technology by trilobites.
I had a wet dream the other day. I know because, well... anyway I can't remember a damned thing about the dream. That's not fair!
I have some entertainment comments to catch up on with Prison Break on a fall hiatus until March or something and with some movies to spout off on too. But that can wait.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)