Thursday, July 21, 2016


In eighty years I never learned a damn thing by talking.

Yesterday was somehow a really bad day, comma for me comma, mind not working quite right with something in the background I couldn’t quite touch, a mood that kept coming and going before I could ID it and know what it was, repeatedly returning realization through the morning that I’d not yet written the blogpost that I count on to keep the brain working, music that once lifted happiness so stirring grief that I turned it off, at church prayers that took me where I couldn’t bear to be. Wednesday: an ineffable day, not going there again. Starting with reading several YogiBear-isms including that Yogi said he didn’t really say most of the things he said,  Thursday will be better despite the steamy day that hit me on rising at five o’clock for the second time, and stepping out onto 7H porch. 

And now this morning thinking I was being complimented by the word “literati” when in fact she said “litterotty” linking me and the areas around my chairs to the Charlie Brown character PigPen. Maybe the day won’t be that much better after all. 

But with black coffee a few flakes of chocolate with orange now doing the trick.

Up first at 0308 with Old Father Nature being ugly insistent, I stayed up and read online for an hour and a half. What I like about the internet age is that I can choose for myself what’s news instead of some television or newspaper moron deciding “here’s this morning’s news” or “here’s today’s news,” I can bloody well choose for myself what’s newsworthy. Not watching tv because the convention coverage makes me think I need an air sickness bag as the newest dynasty assumes the throne, heir presumptive and all the royals. But background articles on the Candidate are fascinating, both those against, who predictably make their point by pointing out that they are resisting using the word fascist or pointing to circumstances leading to its rise in Europe nearly a hundred years ago, and those in favor, which are more interesting. The Candidate is stirring feelings about issues that make Americans anxious about America including overzealous internationalism, jobs floating away and that not only that the person you reach on the phone with your technical question speaks indecipherable English with an Indian accent but also that everything in your house was Not Made In America anymore, that people who hate us and mean us harm are slipping in through the cracks, that we look around to see that we have lost control and that it’s unsafe to go the mall or even to the neighborhood bar and all this because those we elected and have been reelecting are not interested in us but only in staying reelected. What happened? People are angry, frustrated and bewildered, and the Candidate offers himself as the People’s retort to the Elite. As much like 1917 as 1923, it’s entirely understandable. But it won’t come off and nothing will change.

Time to take my car to the shop for its issue of the flashing light and dinging bell about the antilock brake system. Linda’s car has been to the shop several times but its air conditioning system still doesn’t cool worth a damn. 

Yogi Berra: the future ain’t what it used to be.

Sip of black and nibble of dark.

Moon again, in sky and sea. 20160721

Lightbulb: my father died 23 years ago yesterday, was/is that my problem?


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