Days of my Life #38

Stormy Weather

I’ve had that song dittying inside me for the past fifteen minutes.

Could it have been the storm of two nights ago or was it the recollection of my lost love? Nevertheless, today I am full of an unusual melancholy.

It’s crazy, this feeling, since the sky is blue with some cloudiness here and there and the sun is really all warm and the light is perfect, artistically inspiring – with the exception of threatening humidity and weather.com’s prediction of thunderstorms, in general I’m feeling pretty secure that the day, weatherwise, will continue to be okeedokee.

Which brings me to the other choice of my lost love. No, he didn’t go spelunking in a cave and couldn’t find his way out. He also didn’t (to my knowledge) get lost in the arms of another woman (nearly impossible). Nor did he head out around the world in a leaky canoe, or attempt to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. Granted, those things would’ve been tough to handle and far more romantic than losing him in 2012 to fucking cancer. But the latter took him away from me and that is that.

And it’s been going on nearly eight years since the dear man went off to explore another plane of existence so I’m not even certain that the sadness I feel has anything to do with him, because this is a newish, weirdo sort of feeling. But what then?

Today I went to the Central Market to pick up what was on my “list” while daughter, grandson and Zappa the pup went off to explore the nearby pond. I donned my mask and approached the pre-sterilized shopping carts all lined up in neat rows as if they were readying themselves for adoption. I whispered to one “would you like to be my vehicle for mass consumption today?” Perhaps it was my imagination but I thought it said, “Yes! But, Do you really wanna take me for a ride?” I didn’t stop to answer because there were now a few people standing by, at the appropriate six feet, who were anxiously awaiting a cart of their very own. I also didn’t look around to note if they might’ve heard our interchange because that might’ve been slightly embarrassing.

Together we rolled up to the hand sanitizer for a couple squirts then into the produce section where I picked up a couple cukes, weighed them, printed the label, then repeated this action with peppers, celery, tomatoes, mangoes, etc., and continued throughout the store, stopping at the dairy, cheese, bakery, and deli sections, picking up probably more impulse items than I had intended, all whilst passing other masked shoppers and staff at a socially appropriate distance, eventually reaching the cashier stand where I loaded my mostly overpriced stash onto the moving belt. All the while I felt as if I were in a strange movie.

Normally, or what used to be a regular occurrence, lo those two or three months ago, I would visit Central Market on a Thursday morning to write postcards to politicians and various movers and shakers to voice either my approval/support/thanks or my words of indignation/anger/reproach, all while visiting with other progressive folk where we would schmooze and support one another during what I thought were the worst of times.

Then after my business of doing “my part” I’d hop downstairs to do some shopping for groceries, many of said delicacies are not found elsewhere in Austin. (Woe is me.) It was a purposeful day. To add to the regularity of it all I would stop at my post office box, occasionally being overjoyed to find a check from heaven knows who. Sigh.

Is my melancholy about the loss of “normal” Thursdays? Or is it something much deeper? I recently promised myself I would no longer write about things like the horrid state of the USA, or he who shall not be named, or our environment, etc. because everyone else is doing such a good, yet depressing job of it. I also made secondary promises that I wouldn’t gross people out with pictures of fluffy kittens or threaten to hold zoom meetings or do something inane like tell stupid jokes in a sort of comedic-relief sit-down on YouTube. So far, at least in several days I’ve held true to these inner vows, though the latter might actually be moderately amusing, for me anyway.

Perhaps these contracts I have made with little ole moi are what is causing my despondency. Time will tell.

Tune in.

Days of my Life #16

Breakfast was filling if nothing else; shredded wheat and oat milk with a touch of dark brown sugar and some “why bother” decaf. I have already begun my day by perusing the news and email. Yuck!

Even the travel ads are having the “How can I get excited by armchair excursions?”challenge. Just the other day I received a tantalizing invite to travel to Spain and Portugal with a group of cutting-edge science/history/comparative religion nerds (that may not seem sexy to you- but those peeps and their suggestive haunts really turn me on), only to be cock-blocked by the first page on their website reminding everyone about possibilities of date change/cancellation due to covid. Cold shower time.

Even though I’m guarding myself for another disappointment, I’ve been preparing to rev up for the election with new insoles for my block-canvassing sneakers, extra sunscreen, all-natural insect repellent, “go-blue” hat and my selection of socially responsible tee shirts. I suppose I’ll have to wear something like pants or shorts, that is if we’re not still in lockdown or the slug who would be king declares martial law and usurps our elections. If need be, I can always do bottomless virtual block walking, but that’s TMI!

It’s time like these I wish I’d paid more attention to the crystal ball gazing class I took back in the eighties. Of course if I could’ve foretold the future then I probably would’ve divorced husband #1 sooner, definitely wouldn’t have married husband #2, would’ve moved to the south of France or Barcelona or at the very least, Portland and might’ve taken controlling interest in Amazon to make it a socially responsible company. Oh well, hindsight, but then it is really 2020.

I, like so many others, am finding so much time to reflect, to imagine and then locate the remote or iPad charger. I’ve made a bunch of masks, calls to friends & politicians, signed online petitions and donated to food banks, yet I’m still wondering with all this time on my hands I might do something more worthwhile, like create a “why didn’t someone think of this yet?” cure for cancer or world hunger or homelessness or war or joblessness or global climate change!

I am reminded of the adage “every cloud has a silver lining”. While we don’t have cures for the above specific woes, we have the possibility/opportunity to look at them with new eyes. Years ago, my dear friend and teacher, Aristhaia Cash, goddess rest her soul, said, “Most homes have a front door and a back door and usually a few windows -yet most of us mainly use one door to enter and exit and a favorite window by which to regard our outside world. But what about the other door/s and windows? What view/s are we missing? Do we need a skylight? How is the foundation?” Her wise words have served as a reminder that I’ve gotta look everywhere for answers because the predictable views don’t always have the total picture. Its not even the point of fake news as it is limited news, just who’s paying for it and what is their agenda?

To be a critical thinker one must exercise their skills of investigative discernment. A sort of treasure hunt for real, unabridged truth, which these days is a full time job, given the internet and people who only read headlines then spout off with their minimal information and apparent lack of deep thought.

Am I being hypercritical or just unrealistic in thinking we’ve gotta be better than this? Perhaps, then again I’m reminded at just who is running our state/country/world into the polluted ground.

Oh dear! Now I wanna escape to the land of oohs and aahs where I can be spoon fed deep dark chocolate lava cake with vanilla bean ice cream after having a long and oh so sensuous massage by a geeky, creative, straight hunk who whispers sweet everythings into my ear.

Alas, these sorts of brief fantasies are short lived in these times of virus. I’ve finished the cup of decaf and I’d better go take the dog for a walk.

Tune in.

Days of my Life #14

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for coming to the page commemorating two weeks of my brain blather. I must confess, I did not begin this series of what is happening in the life of Yours Truly until I was several weeks into semi-isolation, was certain I could breathe and I had blown through my list of Netflix fantasy and sci-fi, and was well into questionable romance films on Amazon. Heaven only Knows how long I would’ve postponed writing were I into murder mysteries or war films, which on a whole, I am not…unless there are love scenes to where I can fast forward.

Call me a hopeless romantic, better yet a desperate escapist, I haven’t had sex since 2012 when my sweet love died of cancer. Oh no, should I have said that? Oh well, the cat is out of the bag and it’s too late to call it back. Besides I don’t have a cat. Sure, sure I could’ve pushed delete, but why? It’s not like I can troll around on silver singles or match dot not so calm, while we are in lockdown. What good would it do me anyway? Maybe a good nights sleep were I sated…

Safe sex means something quite different these days, doesn’t it? I thought perhaps virtual sex with a stranger.. but without zoom video working, unless we were wearing masks, and we could put Vaseline on the lenses to blur the details of each others features… sort of dreamlike, to obliterate the possibility of criticism and where we could have our own refreshments…taking breaks when required. Oh yes, I have unrealistic rules by which i might consider phone sex but in the crazy world of pandemonium (or was that pandemics) I am entitled to what I consider safe (albeit imposed) fantasy space.

Are you bored yet? No, I didn’t mean by my rant, I meant our collective lockup/lockdown/turn yourself round and round, dizzying effects of being confined to ones home. I have been reading the posts of some friends stating that they’ve hit a lull in engaging activities. Then others who’ve taken up digging for dirt on vaccine mogul/ Microsoft Gates or perils of 5g networks thus are busy riling up the already bored and frustrated masses who just wanna hang out with their buds at the brew pub down the street, but can’t “cause of this dang police state.”

Please don’t get me wrong…I beg you, cause I’m a bit suspicious but not of them, per se, but of the other shit that’s going down while we are watching the red spiked ball rolling indiscriminately down the highways and byways around our, it’s a small world…after all.

Did you know our public lands are getting sold off? That the USA is currently sending warships to Venezuela-spending money that could be going to support needy us citizens? That environmental regulations are getting shredded? That Trump and his cohorts are attempting to privatize the usps so it will be harder for you and me an some poor shmuck in keeokuk to vote? That the stimulus check you were expecting may be gobbled up by your bank to offset any fees you owe? Yep, and Immigrant children and families are still separated and at great peril, but republicans wanna save the unborn, or was that eliminate women’s right to control their bodies? All the while blowhards are bitching about having to stay home, China is experiencing a second wave of covid 19 plague because they opened up too soon? Put that in your proverbial pipe of whatever news you’re smokin’.

Frankly, as I’ve said before, I don’t know who to believe…with the exception that I know I don’t believe the orange non-leader as far as I could throw or roll him…perish the thought.

So what do we do? Hmmm good question. Certainly it means I’m gonna read as much as my eyeballs and brain can coordinate from a variety of sources so I can get as much of a handle on what may be happening. Then I’m gonna keep it to myself for long enough to make sure I’m not instigating something ridiculous like showing up with a kid to a protest March full of people who’ve been cohabiting with a bunch of people who spread their germ-filled remarks. Then ….

Tune in.

Days of my Life #13

Mocha is currently tap dancing in her sleep on the cushion next to the bed. Her soft shoe/paw is tapping at the cabinet abutting the cushion. This is why I am awake at 3am. I suppose I could’ve just gone back to sleep but then I got up for a glass of water, a visit to the bathroom and thought “might as well stay up and write.” So, here I am. Excuse my mini-yawn.

Daughter and grandson baked a delicious “it’s not my birthday“ strawberry/lemon cake yesterday. We ate it twelve hours ago. I could eat more now but then I’d have to start my intermittent fasting program tomorrow and I’m on a roll with changing old habits, consuming delectable treats being one of them.

Yes, I like many, have expanded my waistline during this time of pandemic uncertainty which I also call my “so what if I have another piece of something to placate my feelings of insecurity” time. Though the ig (immediate gratification) – of shoving snacks stuff into my mouth is momentarily satisfying, it has the unfortunate result of making my clothes tighter, hence I am putting the kibosh on the ig. Plus I am in no mood to shop, which is probably not good for the economy but then spending money on fashion is not good for my wallet, especially now.

I must say (since apparently I have to) that the uncertainty I am sensing is one shared by millions of Americans who are sitting on the ends of their chairs/beds/sofas/etc., some with baited breath others with a hand in their bag of chips, wondering, just when this virus of unspeakable proportions will disappear and we can all go outside and play in the sunshine (those who are independently wealthy) or go back to work, many at two or three jobs due to lack of a living wage and ridiculous rent.

Being a person with too much imagination, and a sense of “por quoi pas?” I am picturing at least two scenarios on the day we exit our abodes:

1. People are singing aloud “free at last” in a sort of high school musical rendition of Porgy and Bess (without the sadness, death, violence, slavery). The children wave as they head off to their schools momentarily forgetting bullies, drills for shootings and fire. Beauty spas, open their doors to people with clogged pores from eating too much sugar, expanded waistlines from same and kinks in their necks from watching Netflix in bed.

2. People stay indoors, depressed, watching others go off to work, gazing back at the pink slips, along with stacks of unpaid bills, on the table which have been gathering dust for the past weeks…and wondering if there will be an election or if Trump is now a fulltim3 golfing dictator.

Excuse me, I must escape for a moment, because I see myself spiraling into a dark hole of pessimism and that will totally screw up any possibility of my going back to sleep without nightmarish dreams. I’m going to walk it off.

Okay, that did absolutely nada, except make me realize I’m actually tired, so I’ll continue this when I wake up again. Wish me luck. Zzzzzzzz

I’m back. Have you had one of those days, in let’s say the past month, where you just wanted to yell FUCK! Repeatedly? Today, even after getting at least 38 1/2 extra winks, is one for me. But, rather than have the entire virtual page filled with that ever so satisfying word, I’ll just get out the thoughts which have been bubbling up inside of me. Read at your own risk.

Besides the fact we are all sincerely worried about our fellow family/community members being carried out in body bags and not being able to attend in person funerals/wakes/memorials where we can cry in each others arms to further spread those nasty germs of wretched plague, it is also time to worry about our basic civil rights, to say nothing of our votes, being conveniently frittered away.

Now hold on a pretty second..I am not one of them gun-toting-Trump-frenzied morons who are calling for civil war in front of the governor’s mansion in this here “keep it weird” Austin, Texas. No indeed. I am sitting here in the convenience and comfort of my home, having washed my hands at least fourteen times since I got up three hours ago – it is now high noon in the Wild West, contemplating where we go from here. A Facebook “friend” has spoken to me about how things don’t exactly add up, that we are all caught up in the fear frenzy which has been fed by news from near and far and thus we may be seeing the erosion of personal freedoms like never before. And to this, I agree in some part. I know we must tread carefully with our eyes open to what is happening around us. The unease I feel is that we cannot possibly know what is really happening and that is the truly scary shit in which we are wading, now knee deep. Who and what can you believe?

The dis-ease we are feeling/witnessing has caused most of us to be neurotic about things, (like the right to vote or being killed by dreaded virus)…we had barely even considered these before. It is said it takes approximately thirty days to change a habit. Besides the obvious issue of exercising constitutional rights, do those habits in peril also include no more kissing hello, smiling at strangers, dining with a group of friends, hanging out at a concert, shopping unmasked, working in an office, kids playing on a playground …etc.?

In case you haven’t already done so, I hope I’ve given you Something to think about. And now I’m going to stick my head outside to yell you know what.

Tune in.