Thursday Morning

Thursday Morning

Wow, the cats were so good this morning. As quiet as a church mouse. Who knows why! I'll just gratefully take it. As I'm sure Pop will, too. I'm sure he doesn't appreciate the meow-alarm at six and seven in the morning. It's only his instinctive love for dogs and cats that keeps him reserved about it, accepting it as an act of God.

More good news. The sky is already clearing very early. It looks like we should be enjoying a dry spell for a while, though we need a couple of days to dry out from these last rains.

Now, if only I could cite some good news about my back. My back is hurting, and I'm like the Leaning Tower of Pisa again. My bed is killing me. But the only good answer to that question is a thousand-dollar answer, that is, a new bed and a good one. That's not going to happen. And I'm not ready yet to consider seriously the hard option of sleeping on the floor, But I can see myself winding up there eventually. My bed is not my friend.

But, right now, I'm going to heat up my tortilla-sausage breakfast sandwich, to be washed down with a slightly abbreviated glass of sweet tea.

Memorizing Journal Entries

Besides writing or blurting, I also find myself giving my mornings to memorizing favored journal entries. I'm not sure if Nietzsche would approve, but it feels meaningful to me. I love reliving me memories of Bo and my old discussions with Gabe and Sugar and all of it, including Teri.

Of course, it's a new enterprise, and it remains to be seen if I will still be doing this in the summer and next year, that is, whether this is going to become a permanent part of my life or not - fervidly drinking in these fond memories like the last dregs of life. I still ask myself, for instance, if it might be better to work on memorizing "Hamlet". After all, Gabe and Sugar, for instance, only talked with me as they did because they did not know how ugly I was. If they could have had a full picture of me at the outset, they never would have said more than a half-dozen words to me, and those words would have been quite chilly.

So, am I not being silly to dwell and dwell on their warm flirty words, to savor them like manna? I'm not sure. And it is their words that were the driving impetus behind this enterprise. I don't have enough good, warm-hearted journal entries of Bo and my family to get this project launched on their own power. I only know that it still means a lot to me, being the warmest and most sociable conversations that I ever had, and so this is how I prefer to spend a good bit of my time, including my precious clear-eyed mornings, for now at least.

Cable Guys

Just getting up from my nap, I see an AT&T guy parking in front. I quickly put on my sweatpants and open the window. I tell him that he can go out back, but that it is badly flooded. These guys seem to be making a practice of coming to us directly after a bad rain. At least the timing was good in coming right after my nap. Ten or twenty minutes earlier would have been a real bummer.

Nancy Pelosi Takes Over

Pelosi takes over as Speaker of the House as congress convenes a new session. After a couple of dark years of the Trump administration, there is quite a bit of liberal cheer. Yet, one must fear that we shall be seeing more dissension and conflict than we have seen since the Civil War, and Trump still controls the military as well as the Justice Department - and increasingly the judiciary. But, yeah, I'd celebrate too, while we still can, for the battle ahead promises to be long and hard with many dark days ahead.

Old Sweatjacket

Oooh, nice! I am so glad I decided to wash my old sweatjacket, and I do mean 'old'. I think I've had it for close to ten years, and, truth be told, it was actually Pop's. I thought I threw it away. I'm glad I didn't, because the only ones I can get now seem to be of that skin-cringing material. Acrylic? It definitely does't feel like comfy cotton. I discovered this old jacket a few weeks ago and have been wearing it since, but it has smelled like rancid grease. And now it smells so nice - and a little warm from the dryer. Nice and comfy. I'm glad I got around to washing it in the middle of winter when I still have need of it. It would have been typical of me to keep holding off until the middle of summer.

Sondra Locke

It's been a long time since I've watched "The Gauntlet". Clint Eastwood, Sondra Lock. I think this is the movie that made them an item in real life. She does look pretty incredible in those jeans. They are so tight that she can barely walk in them. She's a bit frail, but I personally like that, not being very hunky myself. Next to Clint, she's like a junior-high schoolgirl. I suspect that was part of the thrill.

1977. Sometimes I feel tempted to limit my movies to those of the 70s or older, as a kind of denial of the Reagan revolution and the politics that has led us all the way up to Trump. It's been a right-wing turn to hell.

Before powering down and going to bed, I decided to google her, and I was surprised to learn that she just died last November. Apparently she wasn't big enough to make the headlines or trend on Twitter. She was 74. 21 years older than I am . I guess that puts her at around 33 when she made "The Gauntlet".

And I see that she wrote a book that focuses on her relationship with Clint and how it got a little dark, titled "The Good, the Bad, and the Very Ugly". Unfortunately, it seems to be out of print, and all available copies are over a hundred dollars. I'd be interested in getting it.