Girls Girls Girls

Q sent this cartoon to me last night.  I sent it to my friends identifying myself as "a true badass bohemian."  Almost everyone I sent it to wants one of those t-shirts.  Take it literally.  

What?  

It's simply that people's selfishness and inconsiderate behavior gets the best of me sometimes.  I'm working on it.  I've gotten pretty good at not ending my educational lectures with "fuckhead" or "motherfucker," and I'm really good at it most times now.  But when the heavens conspire and three or four idiots converge in a single moment or even back to back to back to back. . . . 

And then I feel like shit and think about what I'm repressing and who I'd really like to smash, and. . . . 

So it is good to be home, tucked away in my own little sanctuary, no invasions.  

When T was over a couple nights ago, he was sitting next to a journal I'd left lying on the couch with a Mont Blanc Meisterstuck lying on top.  He picked up the pen. 

"Nice pen."

"It's s fake.  I have several real ones, but I don't take them out with me."

"Yea, I've lost many nice pens."

"It's like expensive sunglasses.  It seems I always leave them in restaurants.  If I wear a cheap pair, I can't seem to ever lose them."

Then he reached over and picked up the journal.  

"Is this. . . " he struggled to remember the name.  

"Moleskine," I said.  

"Yea, yea. . . that's it."  He started flipping through the pages.  I shouted out in panic.  

"No. . . don't look through there."

"What's a matter, homie?  You afraid I'll read something."

Oh, you bet.  That ain't no blog, friend.  

He told that story the next night out with the gymroids.  Now they all figure I'm writing about them.  Everybody wants to be a character in the play.  Everybody wants their story told.  

"I'm sure you're writing shit about us."

"What do you think you deserve?"

No writing is true or complete or accurate.  What do you have to do to make it sing?  I guess I could write, "In Praise of Infamous Men."  

Women, too.  

I couldn't wait to sit down to a tofu and noodle dinner.  I keep coming up with ways to spice up those Annie Chun noodle bowls.  Last night, I put some vegetables in a bowl of bone broth and water and let them cook for a minute before I put in the noodles and spices.  Fried teryiaki tofu slices.  Sliced avocado.  O.K.  It ain't like real good pho, but it is good.  Really, it is good.  And really easy.

Paired with a good wine, of course.  

So. . . it is America's favorite holiday today.  What?  It should be.  I asked several Gen Z kids about it.  Apparently it is important because it is the day Lee surrendered to Grant in the First World War.  Yup.  History is lost unless it is on X or Instagram.  But don't blame the kids.  They weren't brought up on the Ten Commandments the way the next generation will be.  Yea. . . blame the fathead old people who decide to cut the humanities out of the curriculum and fail to teach them math.  As you know, I'm in favor of youth.  I get in trouble about it all the time.  But they ARE the brightest generation, the prettiest, the most athletically talented, the most sophisticated.  There has never been anything like them in history.  

They just need to know that they stand on the shoulders of what came before them.  They didn't invent any of the things that make them so incredibly talented, so sophisticated and beautiful.  And they are.  They need a little humbling, that's all.  

So, yea, let them know that today we celebrate Washington cutting down the cherry tree.  

What am I saying?  That most people don't know shit about the 4th of July unless they've been watching Oprah.  Or somebody.  

You can always YouTube it.  

I will, in the usual spirit of the day, make burgers and things for my ma.  We'll really whoop it up.  There will be beer.  

And then the annual "scare the shit out of the dogs" neighborhood fire fest begins.  That's really what it's all about.  

I got hooked on a YouTube creator's group last night called Beehive Productions.  I got there someway through Folk Alley.  I'll share more with you as I filter and cull what I like and don't.  But I spent a couple hours listening and watching some crazy great musicians.  I was hypnotized.  It was all "roots" music, but most of what I listened to was bluegrass/hillbilly stuff.  Funny looking people in funny looking clothes.  Mountain people, valley people.  It is mostly crazy good talent.  It makes me weep to think of the music most people consume.  But I understand.  People like big productions with lots of sound.  

The funny thing is that I came upon it through lesbian music.  I think.  Much of my favorite music right now is simple stuff by. . . I don't know that I should say "lesbians."  It carries a lot of unnecessary baggage.  

Some of them look really good in dresses.  

O.K.  I just had to say that.  I know.  Just to piss people off.  

You want a ☮ of me?  

I sure agree with one thing, though.  Girls! Girls! Girls!  

I'm glad she uses that word, too.