Exhaustion

You know, we’re only 37 measly days into this new year. It seems like motherfucking eons. 

This week we found out that a global web of pedophile billionaires is running the world. They are NOT in fact doing this out of a basementless pizza shop in D.C. Just FYI.

Just two weeks ago we watched masked paramilitary goons murder an innocent man, Alex Jeffrey Pretti, in broad daylight on a crowded city street. Though there were half a dozen in the gang of ICEholes, only the two Latinos, Raymundo Gutierrez and Jesus Ochoa, have been named. I wonder why, of the group, only these two are being thrown under the bus. Hmmmm, that's puzzler, in'nt?

On the same day as his murder, Prez Pedo’s personal fixer and Attorney General attempted to extort Minnesotas’s governor – turn over your citizen’s voter registration records and welfare recipient info…maybe we’ll make ICE go away.

It’s only been one month since Jonathan Ross murdered Renee Good.

It was New Years Eve when Keith Porter Jr. was murdered by Brian Palacios, an off duty ICEhole.

None of these butchers have been arrested or charged.

Don Lemon and other journalists have been arrested for reporting on what Trump's violent goon squad is doing. So much for the First Amendment, eh?

On the international level:

We’ve already covered Pedo’s January third attack on Venezuela. I guess he got bored with that though. The old asshole has a pretty short attention span. 

Just a couple weeks ago we were on the verge of WWIII because he had a hard on for Greenland. Pedo backed down after someone fancy footworked him into believing that agreements which already existed are brand new. Added plus – vague promises of future meetings about “golden domes!” Donny does love gold.

There’s Pedo’s Board of War Criminals (AKA “Board of Peace”) which is no more than a global slush fund.

The SALT Treaty expired expired yesterday.

The last remaining nuclear arms pact between Russia and the United States is set to expire Thursday, removing any caps on the two largest atomic arsenals for the first time in more than a half-century.

The termination of the New START Treaty would set the stage for what many fear could be an unconstrained nuclear arms race. 

Russian President Vladimir Putin declared readiness to stick to the treaty's limits for another year if Washington follows suit, but President Donald Trump has been noncommittal about extending it. (source) 

So, the testerical, perpetually tantruming toddler is going to …what … hold his breath until he turns blue and then nuke the planet if Putin and Xi Jinping don’t bow down, make Dim Donny the king of the universe? 

AND, no surprise here, the US left the World Health Organization (WHO). We left an unpaid tab too. As of today, California, Illinois, and New York City have joined and are part of WHO’s Global Outbreak Alert and Response Network (GOARN) WHY is Massachusetts not on this list? C’mon Governor Healey, step up!

Sheesh, OF COURSE I’m having a hard time getting up, showered, on the elliptical, and just generally shifting into gear. I’ve got laundry to fold, two years of overdo taxes to work on, MRI schedules to sort out, and a thrice canceled dental surgery on Monday but I’m having one hell of a time facing it all.

I just want to sit in my blanket fort eating dark chocolate truffles while reading my book about a team of stylish, elderly female assassins. I don’t think this is a big ask.

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

I could NOT sleep a wink last night. What the Bast-forsaken-fuck was that all about?! 

I suspect my inability to surrender to Hypnos had much to do with the fact that I had an absolutely fabulous, foofy coffee drink (okay, I had two of them WITH whipped cream!) at breakfast yesterday. Yes, these were caffeinated beverages. I don’t do the jitter juice anymore and, apparently, my system is now quite the delicate little flower when it comes to even the faintest of these demonic coffee elixirs.

Rats!

So then, what did I do all night besides fuss about my taxes? (which I’ve neglected to do for the past couple of years. HEY, I’ve been busy with surgeries and shit! Life’s been a bit overwhelming. Cut me some motherfucking slack!)

Well, I thought about this…what IF…. just WHAT IF I could get my hearing back for a day, what would I listen to? Okay, let’s make it a few days…maybe more.

On the classical front I’d start with:
Liszt – Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 in C-sharp minor, Totentanz 
Handel – Messiah 
Vivaldi – The Four Seasons 
Orff – O Fortuna (Carmina Burana) 
Stravinsky – The Rite of Spring 
Steve Reich – Different Trains 
David Byrne – The Forest 

I’ve never been a Jazzhead but I’d really love to hear these again:
Dave Brubeck – Time Out 
Ornette Coleman – Tone Dialing
Miles Davis – Kind of Blue, Sketches of Spain, Bitches Brew

And then we move on to a bunch of other favorites:
Dylan – Blood on the Tracks, Desire, Bringing It All Back Home, Hard Rain
Paul Simon – There Goes Rhymin’ Simon, Still Crazy After All These Years, Graceland, The Rhythm of the Saints
Beatles – B side of Abbey Road
Stones – Let It Bleed
The Who – Who’s Next
Led Zeppelin – Led Zeppelin III, Led Zeppelin IV (EXCEPT for Stairway to Heaven – I honestly never need to hear that one ever again.)

Emerson, Lake & Palmer – Brain Salad Surgery
David Bowie – Aladdin Sane, Diamond Dogs, Station to Station, Heroes
King Crimson – a few cuts off the albums Discipline and Beat
Brian Eno – Here Come the Warm Jets 
Robert Fripp – Exposure 

Linda Thompson and Richard Thompson – Shoot Out the Lights
Richard Thompson – Hand of Kindness, Rumor and Sigh
Leo Kotke – That's What 
Tracy Chapman 
Talking Heads – Stop Making Sense 
Los Lobos – La Pistola y El Corazón
Morphine – Good, Cure for Pain

Belly – King (or Star or both!)
Concrete Blonde – Mexican Moon
Concussion Ensemble – Tragically, I don’t think there are any extant, decent recordings of this MOST awesome band. They were composed of three standing drummers (each kit distinct), one standing percussionist with a rack of random metal objects and other bits plus two guitarists and a bass player. No singer. They were spectacular!
Pearl Jam – Ten
Nine Inch Nails (NIN) – The Downward Spiral 

And I’d love to watch the Beastie Boys video Awesome, I Fuckin’ Shot That! and be able to actually hear it.

This is, of course, just off the top of my head as I watched the digital clock flip later and later to earlier and earlier while the sky got lighter and lighter.

*sigh* no more coffee for Donna.

Tradeoffs

Dunno ‘bout you but I fucking HATE this shortest day of the year shit. Yes, yes, yezzzzz. It’s really not that bad. I mean, yesterday in Boston we had a wee bit over nine hours of murky cloudy skies.

In my other favorite places?

Stromness, on the Orkney Islands off the northern coast of Scotland? They'll only get about six hours and 11 minutes of daylight today.

Reykjavík will only see about four hours and 45 minutes of daylight.

Here’s the big fucking difference. The warmest it’s gonna get in Boston today is 32º and that’s not taking the wind chill factor into consideration. Good luck walking down Clarendon, Washington, Boylston Streets or along the goddamn seawall today.

Stromness is gonna be 47º – that’s fucking balmy. Shorts weather!

Reykjavík? 46º *SIGH* 

Meanwhile, Los Angeles will have nearly 10 hours of daylight AND the temps will hit 66º today. Fine. I’ll take my four months of cold weather and short days over their poor air quality, earthquakes, wildfires and, from what I’ve heard, miserable public transportation.

The older I get the more I understand the whole snowbird thing. You know, the folks who migrate to warmer southern locales (like Florida or Arizona) for the winter months. Problems – Arizona’s not on an ocean. I need ocean proximity. Florida? The governor is evil, state politics are vile – it’s a rightwing MAGAt hellhole, gun laws are a joke, and the education attitude seems to be that it’s only for the rich (who can pay for private schools). Environmentally, Ron DeSantis is hastening Florida’s inevitable sink into the the Atlantic – he doesn’t give a fuck.

So, where could I go for a few months to escape the cold and dark of winter AND still be close to docs and surgeons who have experience with and a real understanding of NF2. I’m at the point in life where it’s not smart to be far away from savvy med resources for extended periods of time. “Extended” defined as more than a month. 

Los Angeles

Cool but that’s really pricey. Since we’d be on the other side of the country, we wouldn’t have our car with us. Do we rent a car for the three or four months we’re living there? $$$$ I’m not terribly mobile anymore and California’s not known for its public transport. LA ain’t NY or Boston – cars would be a necessity. $$$$

Redondo Beach is around 20 miles from UCLA Medical which is only six miles farther than I am now from Mass General. So, broadly speaking, that’s mebbe workable.

We could get a short term one bedroom, furnished rental for a few months for around three grand a month *ka-ching* 

There’s a wide, diverse variety of dining options there including Thai, Mexican, Japanese, Middle Eastern – most advertise vegetarian and vegan options. There’s a vegan place called lil' Vegerie. I checked out the menu and all the dishes are making my mouth water. Coconut Pumpkin Curry? Philly Cheesesteak? Loaded So Cal Hash? Jesus, go read the menu. Boston needs a diner like this.

Some joints on the list I pulled up are just labeled “health food.” I automatically think that means vague, mushy carboard-ish textured beige, food that, after consuming, is going to leave me, a vegetarian, with a yearning for a greasy Big Mac and fries. Honestly, if you describe your restaurant’s offerings as “health food,” you’ve clearly failed Marketing 101.

Honestly, I'm much more apt to snowbird in Reykjavik or Stromness than in LA. Why? It may be dark but 46º in January feels like springtime to this New Englander. It's the snow and cold of Boston in winter that I mostly object to. Also, those LA palm trees are just plain odd.

The Fifth

Waddayaknow, I made it through another nasty-ass Fourth of July.

Our herd of cats were most def unhappy about all the stupid firework action. Fireworks are illegal for regular citizens to use, have, and/or sell here in Massachusetts – no sparklers, party poppers, and firecrackers. Only people or organizations holding a pyrotechnic certificate of competency (fireworks license) and a permit can, by law, set these babies off.

This would be great BUT fireworks are totally legal and easy to get in next-door New Hampshire. The folks who don’t give a fuck about their neighbors who suffer from PTSD, like veterans, or don’t give a rat’s ass about their own cats, dogs, and other critters (let alone yours or mine) and can’t live without their little bomb explosions just hop over the border and go on mad shopping sprees.

The penalty for selling fireworks in Massachusetts? A fine or imprisonment. The fine can be anywhere from $100 to $1000. Imprisonment? One year max. Oh and your inventory will be snatched – that’s mandatory.

What about this – you bought fireworks in New Hampster. You’re now sitting out on the seawall here in Valhalla with your brand-y new box of Black Cats and a case of Coors Light. You haven’t set off any firecrackers yet but you’re planning on doing so right after you kill this next beer. A cop rides up just then. What happens? He takes your case of beer, leaves the Black Cats, and moves on to the next person flouting open alcoholic bev container laws. 

Great. Kid getting buzzed on the seawall (at my age, I consider everyone under 40 a kid), watching the Weymouth fireworks display across the bay? NO problem AT ALL. Kid on the seawall getting drunk, setting off Black Cats every five minutes, which cause Skitter to hide under the couch, trembling in fear and Cake to cower by my feet on the bed as he pisses himself in terror? Yeah, I got BIG problems with this.

What’s the state law for possession and/or use of fireworks by an unlicensed jerk?

Penalty: Fine and confiscation only
Fine: $10 to $100
Seizure of fireworks: Mandatory

If my neighborhood’s typical of the state, there’s no actual fireworks ban enforcement. I’m pissed. Think about how much money the state could take in if the law was enforced. Not only would this unholy week be less traumatizing for pets, wildlife, and those who’ve already suffered more than enough, Massachusetts might actually have enough buckos to fix our goddamn pothole riddled roads. 

That’d be nice.

Queen of the Slugs

Some days all I can manage, energy-wise, is a shower and brushing my teeth. Luckily, I usually only hit that low one or two days out of seven.

With my recently upped physical therapy  regimen and increased time on the recumbent elliptical (AKA the Enervating Pain Machine), I am, more or less, resembling an uncaffeinated mollusk. In fact, on my non-workout days I’m medaling in Olympic Sluggardlyness.

Today will be in the 40s and overcast—a good day for a walk. I suspect I’ll whine about it a great deal beforehand. Afterwards, I'll undoubtedly demand cookies. Why Ten puts up with me is unfathomable.
~~~
Woke up with Moody Blues I’m Just a Singer In a Rock and Roll Band playing in my head.
I was never a big Moody Blues fan but I was def keen on their big hits, like Nights in White Satin, Tuesday Afternoon and Ride My See-Saw.

I was more of a Jeff Beck Group/Emerson, Lake & Palmer kind of a gal. Yes, I was an overly serious child.

~~~
A very quick must read about the need for emotional support penguins:

In what experts are calling an “unprecedented flippers-up market,” the demand for emotional support penguins has reached record heights as humans worldwide seek comfort amid the ongoing economic crisis.

Dunno, I might need to stick with my emotional support Cake.
~~~
Catastrophize
     verb
: to imagine the worst possible outcome of an action or event

I have always catastrophized. If something is outside my comfort zone (and, frankly, anything beyond getting out of bed in the morning is outside of my comfort zone) I will think of all the ways the undertaking du jour could go wrong. This means that, in my relatively long life, I haven’t taken all the chances, paths, risks, adventures that I could have.

What am I talking about? Skydiving? Bungee jumping? Tightrope walking? Hiking down into the Grand Canyon?

Fuck no! I wouldn’t consider doing any of those.

For Bast’s sake, why would I jump out of a perfectly functional airplane?

Why leap from a totally stable bridge?

Step out on a tightrope? Am I Simone Biles? I know that, in the vid, she’s dancing on a balance beam versus a tight rope—close enough for me. And, NO, I am nothing like Ms. Biles. My equilibrium isn’t even in the same universe as hers. I’m lucky if I don’t fall when I get out of bed.

Also, I’m not suicidal.

As for the Grand Canyon? Do I look like I belong to the Havasupai Tribe to you? Nope. Have I ever expressed a wish to sweat to death whilst stumbling over rocks and cactus? Also no.

While catastrophizing has kept me from doing some minor things, it's also prevented me from doing a lot of wickedly stupid stuff. Hells bells, I’m absurdly impulsive and prone to enough imbecility without adding in insanely reckless feats of derring-do.

'scuse me now, I need to get out of bed without tripping and go brush my teeth.

Mother’s Little Helper

I was never a big Rolling Stones fan. I think, mostly, it was because I just couldn’t take Mick Jagger seriously. I found his stage theatrics annoying—for me they took away from the music. Still, if I just listened to the tunes, didn’t watch performance clips, I could appreciate a bunch of their offerings.

The only album I ever bought was Let It Bleed. Keith Richard’s 1988 solo album Talk Is Cheap was brill and more in line with my own rather broad tastes.

Still, I occasionally get a Stones song stuck on the old internal turntable. Last night, it was Mother’s Little Helper.

Doctor please, some more of these
Outside the door, she took four more
What a drag it is getting old

"Life's just much too hard today"
I hear ev'ry mother say
The pursuit of happiness just seems a bore
And if you take more of those, you will get an overdose
No more running for the shelter of a mother's little helper
They just helped you on your way, through your busy dying day

I’m only now reading that the pill they were talking about was Valium. All these decades (the song came out almost 60 years ago!) I figured it was speed because OF COURSE it was. How else would an overwhelmed mother keep up with her 24/7 housewifery?

Was thinking about speed and getting old last night. Warum? On Friday I had a flu vaccine. For the first time ever, it knocked the shit outta me. C’MON! This was a weenie little flu shot and I’m tired to the point of napping? I didn’t feel up to ellipticalling OR doing my strength and balance exercises yesterday and this morning, almost 48 hours post shot, my arm hurts? NOT FAIR!

Would I take a Black Beauty if I had one? No. I quit recreational drug indulgence (this doesn’t include weed, OK?!) in my early 20s. Hells bells, I don’t even drink coffee or caffeinated tea anymore. Why not? It fucks with my sleep too much.

I’m real keen on the wisdom I’ve gained with age BUT, all the same, what a drag it is getting old.

I only mention it but Mick and Keef were in their early 20s when they wrote Mother’s Little Helper. ‘the fuck did they know about getting old? Maybe they just had a whole fuckton of empathy.

 Anyway, here—have some pics!

Cake

Walter

Skitter

Frozen

Okay, I’ve just about had it with winter.

• My sinuses are in full revolt. My nose is all “thanks but it’s January and time for me to be more clogged than the Tip O’Neill tunnel during evening rush hour.”

• I’m running through moisturizer like RFK Jr. eats through roadkill. Seriously, I drink a ridiculous amount of water and have a humidifier going 24/7, yet my skin still has a texture that makes Death Valley jealous.

• Though it MIGHT reach as high as 39º fahrenheit today (versus last week’s sub-zero horseshit), there’s still a ton of snow and ice along the seawall path. MAYBE it’ll all melt so’s I can walk outside this afternoon but I kind of doubt it. I’m quite keen on staying upright—not slipping, sliding, and falling on my delicate fucking head.

Luckily, I’ve a recumbent elliptical so I can do my cardio exercising inside BUT that does fuck-all for improving my wonk-ass balance and building up the muscles around my ankles and calves. Sure, I could go down to the mall for a walk BUT most people go around unmasked. The chance of catching the flu, COVID or pneumonia doesn’t thrill me in the least. I have enough health obstacles without adding those into the mix. I could do laps of the house BUT my home is small. “Tiny” would not be a descriptive stretch.

Wollaston Beach in ice

What to do? Extra PT exercises, the elliptical, and Ten will check the melt sitch on the seawall at noon.

A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.
~ Carl Reiner

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, Ode to the West Wind

In the winter she curls up around a good book and dreams away the cold.
~ Ben Aaronovitch, Broken Homes

Sounds excellent but reading all day in my comfy chair doesn’t rebuild my surgery banjaxed physical strength and endurance. Otherwise, that’d be totes awesome. The other problem is that I finished my good book—Redshirts by John Scalzi. The next library book (currently on hold) isn’t due to hit my Kindle for another two weeks. Woe-as-hell is me!

Winter is not a season, it's an occupation.
~ Sinclair Lewis

Andrew Wyeth—Winter Carnival

It’s work—hard fucking work. I want spring NOW, goddammit

No animal, according to the rules of animal-etiquette, is ever expected to do anything strenuous, or heroic, or even moderately active during the off-season of winter.
~ Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows 

This as it should be.

The problem with winter sports is that - follow me closely here - they generally take place in winter.
~ Dave Barry

To appreciate the beauty of a snowflake, it is necessary to stand out in the cold.
~ Aristotle

Thanks, I’ll just take your word for it. There are 66 more days until spring.

Brain Dead

No, I’m not actually deceased AND my brain is still functioning…as much as it ever has, that is. It’s just that I seem to be in Vacation Mode. I’m just not in the mood to do any damn thing.

Okay, here are things I can be arsed to do:

• Eating pastries.

• Reading my ripping yarns.

• Schadenfreude-scrolling:

*   Loomer versus Musk sniping is giving me life. Of course, I’m experiencing serious cognitive dissonance and even a smattering of horror that I’m currently cheering for looney Loomer. Enemy of my enemy much?
*   Vivek Rama-lama-ding-dong-swamy, who continues to be spectacularly NOT ready for prime time, has invited the wrath of the MAGAts home for tea and crumpets

• Pet video scrolling.

• Texting amusing memes to my sister.

• Watching teevee whilst snacking on grilled brussel sprouts, spanakopita triangles, and tater tots with Jen and Kevin (Oni’s brother who lives here now with his awesome cat Walter).

Things that I CAN be arsed to do BUT it takes me half a day (minimum) to gin up the energy to break through my utter slothdom:

• Getting out of my jammies.

• Showering and other ablutions (NO, I'm not stinky...YET).
  

• Going for a walk (it’s fucking COLD outside!).

• Doing my goddamn PT exercises (only takes a half hour BUT WAAAAAAAAH, I don't feel like moving!).
  

• Forming coherent thoughts.

CanNOT be arsed to do. Quite possibly, not even if you paid me:

• Giving the the news more than a cursory viewing.

• Giving a good goddamn about the Orange Asshole’s latest idiocies. THIS, by the by, is not the same as ignoring his threats. Will he and Prez Musk try to send troops into Panama, Greenland, and Canada? They can try but I doubt that most MAGAts will go along with this. Rand Paul (whose neighbor really needs to finish what he started) and Tommy Stupidville will but that's to be expected from folks who make Marge Three Toes and Lauren Boob Job look sane and smart.
  

It just does NO fucking good to be and stay outraged 24/7. Yes, I’d love to move to, say, rural Iceland for the next four years but:

1. I lack the buckos.
2. I gotta stay near my tumor team at MGH,
3. My luck I’d end up living three feet from the next Mount St. Helens. 

Laziness is nothing more than the habit of resting before you get tired.
~ Jules Renard

Stuff your eyes with wonder," he said, "live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. Ask no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal. And if there were, it would be related to the great sloth which hangs upside down in a tree all day every day, sleeping its life away. To hell with that," he said, "shake the tree and knock the great sloth down on his ass.
~ Ray Bradbury

Hard work may pay off in the long run, but the benefits of laziness are immediate.
~ Marc Acito, How I Paid for College: A Novel of Sex, Theft, Friendship & Musical Theater 

Cantankerous Beastie

That's me.

Today, I'm Oscar the Grouch. I’m not sitting in a trash can but it’s a near thing. Frankly, depending on how today’s appointments go, I may dye my hair green and move into a nice, roomy dumpster. Maybe I could find one with a view of the water. Hot and cold running snacks and cocktails might help too.

Don't talk to me. I'm tired and grumpy and I'll probably make fun of you.
~ Ann Brashares

Weirdly, to my mind anyway, exercise makes me less of a grouch. Somehow, getting out for even a small walk and doing at least a few of my rehab exercises perks me up.

Judy, my physical therapist will be here at 2PM. While I don’t want to preemptively wear myself out, it’d be a good idea to do at least a few exercises before she arrives. How much must I do to elevate my mood so it's safe for good, normal humans to be around me? It's a mystery.

I'm old enough and cranky enough now that if someone tried to tell me what to do, I'd tell them where to put it.
~ Dolly Parton

The grumpier you are, the more assholes you meet.
~ Banksy

Stands to reason—if you're in an assholian mindspace, if your misanthropic nature is in full bloom, you're bound to run into fellow travelers on the Fractious Freeway.

  "More fun than a barrel of monkeys." Has anyone ever stopped to think how cranky, if not downright vicious, a barrelful of monkeys would be, especially once released from the barrel?
~ Tom Shales

A palate-cleansing view. You're welcome.

Pie

If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.
~ Carl Sagan

This is how I feel today. Relatively simple tasks feel confusing, overwhelming, gargantuan and mystifying. Okay, maybe I feel like this every day. What’s yur point?

It doesn’t help matters that I slept only a few hours last night. What sparked this? I didn’t have any coffee yesterday. I walked, ellipticalled and did some of my balance exercises. The plumber came right out to replace our newly dead water heater (heading my house repair anxieties off at the pass). Cake was curled up by my side to help me drift off. Deep breathing and muscle relaxation exercises were performed. I even managed to cut down on my doomscrolling.

I should have been all set, right? NOOOOOOOOO!

I have, not one but two appointments today. Nothing big and scary—just standard upkeep crap. Maybe that's beside the point though. Could it be that I just want/need a few days in a row with NO medic appointments, house deterioration woes, grossly tedious paperwork shit and general adulting?

I think a staycation might be just the thing. No travel hassles, no crowds of potential COVID carriers, a pile of amusing, ripping yarns at my side and some Dutch apple pie. Maybe binge watching some Star Trek would help too?

Yeah, I think that might be the golden ticket.

Cake is exhausted from all the work of keeping me calm and functioning.

Digable

I was reviewing some old paperwork and discovered something surprising. You see, for awhile now I've thought that I lost the vast majority of my hearing when I was 46. Turns out, I was 49 when my audio took the last train to the coast.

What’s this mean? I had hearing for three more years than I thought. This makes me happy. I mean, 49 is almost half a century of music heaven. Awesome, n'est-ce pas?

I googled ‘music 2007’ to see what was happening right before the old sound system crapped out. It looks like I didn’t miss much that year (remember, art and music tastes are subjective—so this is just me and not an imperious judgment. REALLY!). There was a lot of rap, the always execrable country and a bunch of forgettable pop/rock.

I was never really into rap but I’m happy as hell to have been able to enjoy Digable Planets’ alt hip hop and jazz rap stylings after they reunited in 2005. I got to groove to The Beastie Boys but, sadly, totally missed their instrumental album, The Mix-Up.

What did I listen to most during my last few months of hearing? I knew the wrecking ball of deafness was coming at me so I had David Byrne’s mostly instrumental album, The Forest, Aaron Copeland’s Fanfare for the Common Man, Jeff Beck Group’s Truth all in solid, continual rotation on my little stereo. I wanted to burn them into my memory banks. There were so many others too—Paul Simon’s Rhythm of the Saints, Pearl Jam’s Ten, Nine Inch Nails’s The Downward Spiral, Jeff Buckley’s Grace to name just a few.

That’s it for today. After a nasty night’s semi-sleep, I’m feeling foggy and not fully up for another day of errands, physical therapy and whatnot. What I’m DEF gonna do is avoid the news, especially the rage-baity let's-manufacture-a-horserace shit. I've got Douglas Adams' Life, the Universe and Everything and John Scalzi's The Ghost Brigades to read.