Blonde

Oops.  What happened?  I said I was going to take four Black Cat Liberator photos a day.  I guess I forgot.  Got busy.  Something.  I haven't taken a photo for over a week.  I'd better get busy, though.  I have nothing left to post.  

Today.  Surely I will go shooting today,  

I will have to excuse myself, though, for my life has been a carnival this past week.  I've been living like I haven't lived in years.  I've eaten out five of the last six days.  Every meal.  I've made one meal at home, the noodle bowl that you saw from Friday night.  And it shows.  I'm bigger than ever.  I tried to counter this with physical activity, but unable to run, I have no way of keeping up.  If I am going to continue to live this life, I will have to limit myself to a single meal per day.  

Ha!  Who am I kidding?

I'm living rather 3rd world here the past two days, though.  There was a water main break down the street and the water was turned off Saturday morning.  It wasn't turned back on until sometime in the afternoon.  Since then, we have been under a boil water notice.  I keep forgetting.  I got up yesterday morning and put the coffee on to brew having taken water from the tap.  I remembered, though, and dumped the coffee down the drain.  Having not bought any water, however, I had to use some distilled water that I buy for developing film.  You shouldn't drink distilled water, for it has no minerals in it, and water, being the universal solvent, will leach minerals from your body if hasn't any of its own.  However, I reasoned that whatever it got from the ground coffee beans might be a mitigating factor, so I made some mitigated coffee and worried not.  

But. . . I'm not supposed to wash dishes with the filthy stuff coming from the tap, either.  I have.  It makes me wonder, though, about water that comes through underground pipes from I have no clue where.  We have no water tower in my town.  That water is basically sitting in miles and miles of pipes all night while people sleep.  I have always loved turning on the tap and not needing to go to the well to pump up some potable water. to haul.  When my mother was a child, she said that their water came from a spring up the hill from the house and would sometimes have tadpoles or other little creatures when it came from the faucet.  I take clean water for granted, I know.  Did.  I'm beginning not to "of a sudden."  

I'm drinking boiled tap water coffee now.  

I got "blonded" yesterday.  It took three hours.  I didn't know I was going until Sunday morning when my little Russian beautician texted me.  Noon, we agreed.  Having partied with my mountain friends the night before, however, I was a slow dog, waking up late and being muzzy headed all morning.  I had planned to at least take a long walk, but time flew.  I was hungry, but I hadn't been to the grocers for days.  As the old clock on the wall closing in on eleven, I decided to drive to McDonald's to get an Egg McMuffin.  In a hurry.  I had only minutes before they quit serving "breakfast."  

I made it, and damn. . . it was good.  

Yes, yes. . . I've changed.  Just for a bit, I hope.  But if I become a traveller again, I'll not be cooking, so consider this "training."  

My beautician was chatty.  I mean really chatty.  Living at home with a new baby, she needs some community, I think, with people other than her family.  She shared a lot of things with me--including that she is an adamant Jew who says fuck the Palestinians.  I know I said I was done with politics, but it is pretty much impossible.  I've always said that war is so atrocious that you should only go to it if you are willing to kill your enemy.  You can't decide just to kill the bad ones and leave the good ones.  You can never win that way, especially if the other side is determined to exterminate you.  So what do you do when the family next door kills your kids while they are playing in the yard?  Do you want to sit down with a mediator and have peace talks?  

"Give us half your backyard and we'll agree not to kill your kids anymore."

There is definitely a "heart of darkness" in the world.  Conrad captured it well when he wrote, "Kill all the brutes."  

We on the sidelines are always trying to figure out who the brutes are.  

"His language is triggering me.  I feel unsafe."

So, like so many I know, she has abandoned the party of "The Woke."  Progressives and the "trannies for Palestine" movement have driven her to the Republican Party.  People are, in the end, pretty tribal.  

The situation now is that we have a group who is voting for Trump and another group who is voting against him.  Harris is just a totem at this juncture. It is simply unbelievable that this thing is going to be close at all.  If Harris picks Buttigieg for her running mate, I'm going to guess the deal will be done.  

I tried to talk, but I had to listen.  I'm a good listener, though.  She said so.  

I told her about going out with my mountain friends and about the witchy stuff I encountered.  Like so many people I have known of late, my beautician is "witchy" too.  Reiki, chakras, auras, and unknown energies have captured the imaginations of many.  Astrology, palmistry, numerology, tarot. . . . My head spins with it.  

"More and more, science is showing. . . ."

It may prove to be true, but somehow I think the cart is way, way before the horse here.  

When I left, I was terribly blonde and it was late in the afternoon.  

"Send me before and after pictures, diva," requested the girl that may have asked me out.  Oh, sure. . . I snapped a few.  

I called my mother to tell her I had not been able to get anything to fix for dinner, but she was on the phone with a friend, so I said I'd call her back.  

When I got home, having eaten only a 310 calorie Egg McMuffin all day, I decided to make a Campari and smoke a cheroot.  I've been making good decisions like this one for over a week.  

I called my mother back and told her what I had to say about dinner.

"That new barbecue place up the street opened up.  The neighbors went there last night and said it was good.  I thought we could try that."

"Sure, that will be fine."  

Me an ma, out on the town.  

The food was what one might expect if one has been eating at one of the best bbq spots in the states.  The beans were way too sweet and the pulled pork bland.  The sauces were like brown syrup.  But I said, "not bad."  It was a lot of food, and my mother said, "Next time I come, I'd just get the sandwich."

But we ate it all and a giant piece of chocolate cake besides.  

I know.  I'm on a real roll.  

When we got back to her house, I couldn't keep my eyes open.  It was a sudden attack of narcolepsy.  I had to excuse myself.  

"I need to go home."

And when I got there, I poured an after dinner scotch and put the t.v. on to YouTube Music.  In a moment, I was asleep.  

But some of the best music I've heard for awhile played on, and when I woke up I couldn't understand anything.  Had I had a stroke?  

No. . . they were not singing in English.  Ho!  I sipped my scotch and watched in some semi-catatonic state for an hour.  I managed to "like" some things so that they would go into my algorithm.  The more I "liked," the more I got.  

It was fairly thrilling.  

Early on, after watching an episode of "Babylon Berlin," I took a hit off the pipe and lay myself down.  

And I slept well until five.  There will be a nap in my future, maybe, but if the past two weeks have been an indication, it may not.  

And I have much that needs doing.  

Tennessee called yesterday to tell me he was going to be in town all week.  

"We'll have to get together. . . get dinner or something."

Sure, sure. . . I'm in.  

It is still early.  Maybe I'll go back to bed for a brief nap now.  That might just be the thing.