That’s Entertainment

Word for the day:

Escapism
     noun
the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy.


As you know, I’m in a near constant hunt for distracting fun shit to read or watch. We all need a vacation from this harsh, bloody existence—even those of us who aren’t fighting our own bodies and/or minds for control ON TOP OF witnessing the Republi/Fascists plot and scheme out loud democracy’s destruction.

In TeeVee Land, Jen discovered the most amazing show—What We Do in the Shadows. It’s billed as comedy horror, fantasy AND a mockumentary. Like This is Spinal Tap but for vampires, werewolves and a the like.

Nandor the Relentless, Laszlo, Nadja (all traditional vampire types), Colin (a cube style office worker, energy vampire and day-walker) and Guillermo (Nandor’s human familiar/servant) all live in a HUGE old Victorian on Staten Island (of all places). Almost all the sets are bottomlessly dark—consistent with the hard lighting seen in film noir and shot-on-the-go documentaries. One of the plusses of dimly lit teevee show scenes is that the set designer, who’s usually on a slim budget, doesn’t need to spend as much to flesh things out. Also, dark = moody, deep and dangerous, right?

The sets (particularly those in office spaces and out on the street) and lighting look like they’ve been done on the wickedly cheap side but, I think, that’s at least some of the goal. It works. In the Shadows looks and feels like a documentary.

While the show’s main actors are, to me, unknowns, there are tons of guest appearances by Hollywood bigs like Mark fucking Hamill, Tilda Swinton, Paul Reubens, Danny Trejo, Wesley Snipes, Sofia Coppola, Jim Jarmusch (!!!) and more. They’re all, clearly, having a blast. It’s hilarious!

The show's writing is abso-fucking-stellar, as are all the actors. Yes, I’m feeling a bit addicted. Each episode is a quick 22-30 minutes long. Jen’s rationing me to a miserly two eps at a time. In doing this, I’ll still have escapist hoopla to watch next week. Thank Bast one of us is thinking ahead!

I saw an ad for a Wolverine/Deadpool movie. Should I be embarrassed that I really want to see it? I love Deadpool’s humor. Wolverine’s serious, not a jokester though. Will this movie be witty or just all big special effects fight scenes with shit exploding everywhere? Is this a Marvel Universe Odd Couple? Is Deadpool Oscar and Wolverine, Felix?

Maybe I should be just a little concerned about my escapism proclivities?

I’m disappointed but unsurprised to hear the allegations about Neil Gaiman. “Disgusted” is probably a more accurate descriptor. Hey, I can be both unsurprised AND disgusted, right? I’ll still watch Good Omens season two when it comes out. While he was half the writing team for the original book, he’s not the whole ball of wax for the teevee show. Apart from that, I don’t think I can get past the utter skeevy-osity and my supreme loathing to see or read any of his other work.

The best I can say is “At least he wasn’t, as far as we know, raping 13 year olds (who looked just like his own daughter) like the adjudicated Republi/Fascist rapist candidate for president Von ShitzenPantz and his best buddy Epstein.”

If you can’t trust the writer of modern fairy tales to be a better human than a soul-sucking, horrifically bigoted, mysogynistic, lying sack of malignant narcissism, who can you trust?

Why Do When I Can Overdo?

I overdid it on my walk yesterday. Shocking? Wut? No?

I’d intended to add just an extra couple of blocks BUT it was a beautiful, warm day and loads of folks were out walking their dogs and bairn. Given that, here in Massachusetts, we’re averaging 2,035 new cases of the Trump Plague PER DAY (yesterday hit 2,660!) I like to keep a good 60 yards between me and anyone I don’t live with. Yes, I’m masked up when venturing outta the house but, given my infatuation with staying alive and that annoying neurosurgery habit, there’s no such thing as being too careful.

So, to avoid possible plague carriers, I took a few detours. Yeah, I made it home in one piece and even managed to do one of my strength building PT exercises too but, DAMN, Imma have to go easy on me today.

I can’t help but figure that this long-ass recovery is exacerbated, made more challenging, in part due to the COVID struggles. Also, and significantly, there’s the endless, reality eschewing insanity of the Republi/Fascist Party and their treasonous toddler chaos king. That shit takes a toll especially as it’s, post election, been ramped up by the Narcissistic Nitwit and his despotic Renfields.

In an effort to distract and release tension, Jen, Oni and I have been trying out new shows for our sci-fi/fantasy, escapist tea times. We’ve watched all of our latest shows – CrazyHead, Picard, Sabrina, Lucifer, Warrior Nun and Bast knows what else.

Last night we attempted to view a few new ones.

Fer instance, DayBreak:

High school isn't the end of the world... until it is. In this post-apocalyptic, genre-bending series, the city of Glendale, California is populated by marauding gangs of jocks, gamers, the 4-H Club, and other fearsome tribes who are kicking ass as they fight to survive in the wake of a nuclear blast...Following an eclectic group of survivors as they navigate this strange and treacherous world, DAYBREAK is part samurai saga, part endearing coming-of-age story, and part Battle Royale. (source)

Sounds great, right? Though amusing and I like the fourth wall breaking bits, all the players are kids – no adults seem to have survived the apocalypse and, lemme just tell you, that’s dull.

We tried Marianne, a French show about a young author whose horrific dreams are becoming reality. Nope. Not only were none of the characters engaging, they were actually annoyingly off-putting. Also, half an ep in, the writers had already pulled out half a dozen, if not more, desperately tired mystery/horror tropes. Right after the scary old crone proudly pissed herself as she was serving “tea” (which just HAD to be poison) we bailed.

We looked at Vampire Diaries, imagining it’d be similar to Buffy. Nope, NOT. AT. ALL. The first thing to annoy me was this – the actors all looked alike. They had matchy-match grooming, clearly tog shopped at the same three stores and had almost identical general appearances. I was thinking that part of the storyline was that they all came from one, highly incestuous family. To be fair, the female star’s BFF is Black but, aside from rockin’ a darker shade of flesh-tone, she was def from the same Teen Vogue tribe.

Honestly, it took me half the show to be able to distinguish one player from another. Also, while Buffy certainly had romance shit going on, that wasn’t the whole deal. The show’s other elements had just as much, if not more, weight. Basically, Vampire Diaries is a soap opera for swoony, mainstream middle school girls. Ya know, the type who find Beyoncé too exotic and radical. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

One thriller, which we may give a second chance, is Diablero – a Mexican show about a a priest needing help from "Diablero"  a legendary demon hunter named, Elvis Infante (LOVE the name!). The first installment didn’t knock my socks off BUT, of the four, it was the only one with a hint of promise.

We’re also gonna check out Childhood's End, a mini-series based on the Arthur C. Clarke novel.

After peaceful aliens invade earth, humanity finds itself living in a utopia under the indirect rule of the aliens, but does this utopia come at a price? (source)

This one looks like a thoroughly engaging winner, if not a laugh a minute.

I WILL transcend our current stress infused reality yet!

All pics today, by the by, are from my reality distract-a-thon camera purge.

TeeVee

You may know (or not) that I’m not a big fan of the boob tube. Dunno why – it just doesn’t, generally, grab me.

After The Amazing Bob died though, me and the teevee were tight. Specifically, binge watching Big Bang Theory helped me escape my extreme sorrow and reconnect with the universe outside of my giant loss.

Eventually, I ran out of DVDs and no other shows captured my frayed nerves (and, I found, I could only re-watch Star Trek eps so many times). I went back to reading escapist sci-fi and mysteries. I attempted knitting (unsurprisingly, I don’t have the calm mind for this meditative endeavor). I found that I could paint again. YEA!

And then I met Ten. He’s not a teevee watcher either. Good thing since I can’t find the remote and the screen doesn’t seem to have an “on” button or a channel changing dial. Yes, teevee tech-wise, I’m stuck in the ‘70s.

I do, regularly, see some highly selective offerings over at Jen and Oni’s place. We’ve just started watching the latest Star Trek series – Picard. So far (just viewed the second ep last night) it’s fabulous. My only complaint is Doctor Agnes Jurati played by the actress Alison Pill. Her character is a former Starfleet doctor and an expert on synthetic life forms (e.g., Data)

In real life Pill is 34 years old – BARELY old enough to be a just-starting-out doc (with ot without specializations) here in 21st century reality. Plus, she looks more like 18 than mid 30s with her cartoonishly button nose and jarringly babyish pastel outfits. All she lacks is a twee little pink bow in her hair. On top of that, she plays the part with all the gravity of a sugared up toddler let loose on the playground for the first time.

Hopefully this utterly miscast character evolves and quickly. Right now she makes Doogie Howser look like a wise, seen-it-all-and-then-some elder.

Jen, Oni and I are also watching a British show – Crazyhead.

Bowling alley worker Amy and nonconformist Raquel kick some serious demon butt while also facing their inner demons as they navigate their early 20s. (source)

It’s fun, not deep in any way (so far) which is exactly what I need.

Teevee – it’s about ducking reality, dodging this insane dimension we occupy. Given this, I’m sure it’ll come as no surprise that I’m not watching the farcical Amy Covid Barrett confirmation hearings. Hell’s bells, even her Notre Dame colleagues don’t believe she should score the gig. Fer fuck’s sake, she can’t even list the five freedoms guaranteed by the Constitution.

As Amy Coney Barrett was undergoing hours of questioning Tuesday, on the second day of her confirmation hearing for appointment to the Supreme Court, more than 100 faculty members back at the University at Notre Dame, where she had been a law professor for 20 years, were signing an online letter opposing her appointment. (source)

Yeah, this also means I won’t be watching Preznint Maggot Riddled Pumpkinhead’s “Town Hall” tonight either. I’ve got enough aggro in my head without watching this preening and posturing, drug addled pile of toxic waste.

No thank you!

Everything Stops for Black Holes

Jen, Oni and I are going through a Tea Time transition. We‘ve watched all the existing eps of Star Trek: Discovery and Lucifer. These two shows are utterly brill – the best kind of escapism. There’s wit, spaceships, angels and demons, hot topical issues are tackled and more.

Lucky for us, there WILL be more of both series but WHEN?

We’re now exploring other shows – looking for brilliance. Maybe there’s another Buffy or Angel out there in TV Land somewhere? Toward that end we auditioned the first ep of Farscape.

Two things I couldn’t get past:

1)   Muppets. It was produced in part by Jim Henson’s company. Cool...if you’re watching with your pre-teen kiddles, I guess. Me? I just can’t take fuzzy puppets seriously as killer, space traveling aliens.

2)   The 20-something protagonist, (who looks way too damn wholesome – like a fairy tale blonde Nebraska mother just popped him outta the oven), is an astronaut. He’s taking a super duper, brand-y new rocket ship (which he co-invented...of course) out for a test drive when he accidentally falls into a black hole.

My friend Mark recently explained to me what could actually happen if one of us humans ever rilly fell into one. Me, fer instance.  Gravity would be way stronger at my feet than at my head so I would be pulled, stretched like taffy. I would be, as the science folks term it, spaghetified.

I found this fascinating post at BBC Earth – The strange fate of a person falling into a black hole  by Amanda Gefter.

So what happens if you accidentally fall into one of these cosmic aberrations? Let’s start by asking your space companion — we’ll call her Anne — who watches in horror as you plunge toward the black hole, while she remains safely outside. From where she’s floating, things are about to get weird.

As you accelerate toward the event horizon, Anne sees you stretch and contort, as if she were viewing you through a giant magnifying glass.

 ~~~snip~~~

When you reach the horizon, Anne sees you freeze, like someone has hit the pause button. You remain plastered there, motionless, stretched across the surface of the horizon as a growing heat begins to engulf you. 

According to Anne, you are slowly obliterated by the stretching of space, the stopping of time and the fires of Hawking radiation. Before you ever cross over into the black hole’s darkness, you’re reduced to ash.

But there’s so much more.

A black hole is a place where the laws of physics as we know them break down. Einstein taught us that gravity warps space itself, causing it to curve. So given a dense enough object, space-time can become so warped that it twists in on itself, burrowing a hole through the very fabric of reality.

Wickedly fascinating shit!

Also, I only mention it, reading about quantum mechanics shit is WAY more fun and less stressful than looking at the news reports.

So, ‘scuse me, Imma go bury myself in event horizons, singularities and field theory and shit. Cheers!

Black Holes

Read the New York Times today. At least check out the front page.

Just FYI and shit, I have a goddamn right to a long, happy fucking life – every bit as much as someone who is healthy, whole and 41 versus 61. I will not lay down and die so that you can go to the gym, get a haircut, sit at the bar swilling cheap white wine and Bud. I will NOT lose my life so that you can shop ‘till you drop, show off yur bikini bod on Nantasket or eat roast duck at Mistral.

Most folks that I know are staying in (apart from essential worker bees) – only going out for groceries and doc appointments that can’t be done online. We’re staying safe or as safe as is possible. This may well be what life looks like until a vaccine is invented and made widely available. I’m not counting on wide availability happening while Sparky Stupidhead is in the White House. Motherfucker’s gonna try to make it so only wealthy whites can be safe. To his banjaxed brain, the rest of us should live in fear, grateful for bread scraps tossed in the dirt at our betters’ feet.

Yeah, fuck you and the ugly ass SUV you rode in on.

If vote by mail isn’t possible, I WILL don a poor person’s HAZMAT suit and stand in line for days to vote the grifting, murderous Shitheel Administration out of office – him, his passel of laughably slugbrained children, the animatronic wife-bot and every other swindling simpleton in his avaricious orbit.

AND, for all the yahoos who think humans are all that and a bag of chips, check this out :

3.5 billion light years from Earth — a significant chunk of the way across the visible Universe — lies a monster. It's called OJ287, and it's an active galaxy, one with a tremendous amount of energy blasting out of its nucleus.
~~~snip~~~
The power source for this galaxy is a black hole in its center that is abjectly soul-crushing in its proportions: It has a mass of 18.4 billion times the mass of the Sun — that's the mass of a small galaxy, except it's all compressed down into a single object.
~~~snip~~~
…OJ 287’s black hole isn't alone. It's a binary black hole, with a second one orbiting it  This companion is only — only! — 150 million times the Sun's mass. For comparison, the supermassive black hole in the center of the Milky Way is about 4 million solar masses, so even this smaller one in OJ 287 positively dwarfs ours. (source)

Shit man, black holes…they don’t give a fuck about pesky little planets in hillbilly galaxies like ours. They’ll steal yur candy and fuck you up, mes amis.

The message of this lecture is that black holes ain’t as black as they are painted. They are not the eternal prisons they were once though…things can get out of a black hole both on the outside and possibly to another universe. So if you feel you are in a black hole, don’t give up – there’s a way out.
~ Stephen Hawking 

Connection

Am I ever anything but exhausted lately? I slept, get this, 12 hours last night! I know, I know, that ultra fast trip to see Poppy, with the hour and a half flight time and two+ hour drive from airport to his home is a killah. More so with him not in great shape (WORRY!) and me unable to be there 24/7 to hover (shut up, hovering IS too salubrious!), fuss and cosset.

That's a smile I'm rockin' – REALLY!

Yup, that’s my primo super-villain Guilt Woman talking. I just can’t shake her.

Earlier this AM, I checked in with him via text and he’s doing ‘not so bad.’ GOOD!

Text messaging on the tinyphone isn’t so easy for him (understatement alert) – he has big hands and his digits don’t fly like Baryshnikov anymore. I want and NEED to keep in contact with him though!

Way back when I first lost my hearing, a new thing came out – captioned telephones. Fer example, Daddy could call me and just talk, NOT text, and a screen on my end would automatically show what he’s said. Cool? YES, so very, very way fucking cool. At that time though, 13 years ago, the service wasn’t available in Massachusetts. Also, I’d need a landline and we didn’t have the money for one. Things have changed and, I just checked the Captel website, it IS available here now AND, though I’d still have to pay for landline phone service, I could get the fancy caption screen phone itself at no charge.

On a quick perusal I found TWO MORE companies who offer this service/make captioned phones – ClearCaptions and CaptionCall. Choices I HAVE CHOICES!

This could be earth shatteringly awesome.

Dreams and Resolutions

 I dreamed I’d just moved into a very old, but shabbily elegant and def cool, building in Boston. It had been a brilliantly hip movie theater which’d been converted into small apartments (think Exeter Street Theater meets Hotel Buckminster circa 1980). It was populated by artists, writers and hipster entrepreneurs.

I was exploring the joint and found a café, serving breakfast (my favoritist meal of the day!). It was the sort of place that serves tea in delicately glazed bone china and all the napkins are lace edged. I was in the deep past where everything and everyone had fascinating histories and told epic tales of chic, interesting, creative LIVES LIVED.

I was also here and now and, waddyaknow, I am.
~~~
I saw my awesomely fab, stylin’ surgeon yesterday and she was awesomely fab, supportive AND wearing the sweetest spring-IS-coming retro mini dress with olive patterned tights and cream colored pumps. Not only does she have MONDO smarts, a grand sense of humor and brill observation-fu, she is a creative joy to behold.

My bruise colored swollen eye is, in fact, due to some sort of weird allergic reaction. It’s the prescription night goop in combo with…something. Maybe it’s dust or Coco OR the moon is in klutz and who the fuck knows. She did say that my eye, the inside stuff, is GORGEOUS. Apart from the monster from deep look, my surgical recovery’s going gangbusters great. TREE-fucking-MENDOUS!

She gave me directions and recommendations for ending the allergic reaction AND easing its effects. It’ll be a couple weeks before I look fully human again but I WILL be human once more.
~~~

BOYCOTT THEM!

These, below, are some of the companies who partner with the NRA/ who offer discounts to NRA members. Please join me in boycotting them.

I know it’s not gonna be easy for me but it's GOT to be done. Whenever I fly to visit my farther  I gotta rent a car from one of these folks to get from the Pittsburgh airport to his tiny, middle of nowheresville hamlet. I've used one of these death enablers here at home when I’ve needed a not-Bix car. A magnificently effective way to bring about positive change is to hit corporate enablers square in the wallet.

I won't use these companies ever again unless they end their support of this reactionary culture spinning, terrorist enabling, Republican whore sponsoring group.
~~~
Words for the day:

plutocracy
1. government by the wealthy
2. a controlling class of the wealthy

This once great nation is now and, with very brief, sane human breaks, has always been a plutocracy.

Nick Hanauer snarkily replying to Chrystia Freeland’s book Plutocrats: The Rise of the New Global Super-Rich and the Fall of Everyone Else, notes that:

Facts are for little people.

We plutocrats have a long and proud history of controlling human societies, and the belief systems that we create about how the world works enable us to do that. "Earth is the center of the solar system" was a useful one for us in the past. "Lowering taxes on the rich produces growth" is one of our current favorites. You show me an orthodox belief, and I'll show you plutocrats who benefit from it.

madeleine – NOT just a cute little cookie!
1. something that triggers memories or nostalgia: in allusion to a nostalgic passage in Proust's Remembrance of Things Past.

     ... thus temporarily bringing the sounds and smells of his dream world to him, a madeleine of the ever-postponed future. 
~ Jayne DeLynn, Real Estate

2. French Cookery. a small shell-shaped cake made of flour, eggs, sugar, and butter and baked in a mold.
Hmmm, I think I need a cookie RIGHT now.

Dream On – Aerosmith

Bored Now!

Coco's not pleased with my new look

Selfie, taken a few short minutes ago.

Bottom line, being ill gets annoying and dull, dull, dull muy rapido. I'm feeling all Willow-esque at the mo and need to do something to shake myself out before I, ya know, flay someone alive or something.

Latest painting. More of a doodle really.

Fer instance – the weekend MEEI idiots who FINALLY called my surgeon, Doc Davies, yesterday. The good cutter was out of town and, gosh, I guess the in town worker twits didn’t want to interupt her mini hol with my pesky blotated orb prob. That would’ve been AOK IF any of those manqués had been worth a damn. Quite possibly Jen, who was doing all the heavy phone work for me, needed to go all Dark Willow on their asses. I suspect she did.

In any case, Doc Davies reviewed whatever notes, images and blatherings the weekend crew collected and said, yes, allergic reaction/not infection. I'll see her live and in person this afternoon and hopefully get some rock solid answers and fixes. Good. After eliminating, one by one, all eye meds (except the post surgery prescription drops) I’ve run out of guesses as to what’s causing the bruised, swollen Republican wife look.

I will be sending a very stern letter to the MEEI Powers that Be. MEEI has improved greatly over the years but this, THIS was totally unacceptable amateur hour bullshit.

In these times, when my health is dodgy and I'm having to pitch epic battles to get decent care, it's too damn easy to become hyper focused and tunnel vision-y. I can ramp up my multi-tasking fu, attend to this crapoli and not be a two dimensional, depressing harpy (though I'd totally dig those wings). It's time to start that new painting. Maybe TWO! Also, I just picked up a very interesting looking book – Frankenstein in Baghdad by Ahmed Saadawi. The Guardian says it's strange, violent and wickedly funny. OK cool – I'm up for it.

Plus, today’s supposed to hit 61º and 68º is on tap for tomorrow! I may not be able to do much BUT I can go to Nantasket and barefoot it in the surf.

The Saga Continues

Didn't use the prescription goop OR the tape on my eye last night thinking, I'll wake in the AM looking human, normal-ish. Seemed like a safe bet. Nope. My eyelids are – I didn't think this possible – even more swollen and red than yesterday morning.

Going to the ER is out since they were so astoundingly useless yesterday. Jen will call the doc's number again this morning and attempt to strong-arm them into seeing me live and in person today. Yeah, it's Monday of a three day weekend so I may be shit outta luck.

I'm still thinking this is an allergic reaction to either one or some combo of my meds versus a sight compromising infection (yesterday's ER Doc Lame-Ass pronounced it an allergic reaction – I'm choosing to believe she was accurate on this score). So then, I'm vastly annoyed but not in a full blown panic.

A word to the wise – don't have medical emergencies on three day weekends or holidays. The time off gets blown to bits AND no one but newbies and incompetents are on the job.

There was a red button on the wall labelled EMERGENCY, but no button labelled BEWILDERMENT.
~ Michel Faber, The Book of Strange New Things

Eyeballs in the ER

It's like this – I used to, straight up, loathe Mass Eye and Ear. The only appointments had there that were reliably, satisfyingly competent and reasonably on time (versus hours, seriously, hours late) were those with my beloved Beach Boy neurotologist, Mike McKenna. OK, my old neuro-ophthalmologist, Simmons Lessell's, office was always spot on too.

All others were woefully, painfully, sub par.

Over the past couple years though, I’ve had significantly better experiences there. My cornea dude, Doc Dana, and the stylin' Doc Davies and their staffs have been incredible.

And then this nasty post cataract surgery thing happened. Jen was on the phone on and off most of Saturday with different nurses and docs. She was even instructed by the last one, an on call cornea specialist, to email in:

• A pic of my red and swollen but not yet quite Frankenstinian eye
• Pics of all my eyeball meds

Looked like we were getting somewhere. But no. Before he even got the pics, he pronounced that I was having a bad reaction to the medical tape used to secure the sleepytime shield over my eye.  Oh…rilly?

• The tape is never in contact with my eyelids – cheek and forehead only.
• I'm not allergic to med tape

Jen sent off images but the dude did NOT call or resopond to the emails. Guess he had a party to go to or something.

By this time, I figured out for myself that I was having an allergic reaction to something. It seemed my eye was NOT about to fall out and I wasn't about to go blind. I suspected the prescription nighttime goop was teeing off my monster-from-the-deep look or, mebbe, it was that in combo with with my usual racktime dry eye goop.

Experiment time! I used only the prescription stuff last night.  Boyhowdy, when I woke this morning looking like one of the current White House administration's battered wives, I had my answer – my eye no like the prescription goop.

Why'd I go to the ER? Do I have an ER fetish? Ah...no.

• To make sure the eye, which looked horror-show bad this morning, was gonna be AOK,
• To get advice or meds or something to fix the giant rotted bloom that my eyelids had become
• To get the pro medical folk's word (versus my guess) that, yes, it's the goop, stop using it.

Did I get what I needed? After a lot of frustration, yes, more or less.

ACTUAL pic of what I look like now!

For staters, the first words out of the intake nurse's mouth were "do you read lips?"  This is Mass Eye and Ear where, I’d have thought, the staff would have experience with and knowledge about deafness. Ya know – they’d all be aware that lipreading a complete stranger accurately and completely is beyond most mere mortals. Nope. I tried to calmly inform and educate without going full blown, pedantic Jane you ignorant slut.

Then there was the on call eye doc. She kept interrupting me when I was giving her my sitch, saying that we (Jen was with me) should "call your doctor."  I'm sitting in there, expecting the doctor to hear my story, examine me, assure me I'm not gonna lose the eye and/or make me inpatient, dispense meds or, at least some pro recommendations, and what do I get? "Call your doctor." At that point, I kinda lost it. If that's all you're gonna say, what was the point in me coming in?! I pointedly, angrily pinned her down to answer the basics:

• Is this allergic reaction compromising my cataract surgery result? No.
• Is this serious? No.
• When will the red and swelling subside? A couple days.
• Is the night goop the cause. Yes. Stop using it.

She didn’t give any recommendations or an alternate goop ‘script but she finally did look around in my eyeball.

All in all it was a real Jane you ignorant slut morning. I'm no longer worried and freakin.' Nope, now I'm just pissed.

OOOOF!

Having bad allergic reaction reaction to something – probably one of the 50,000 drops that I need to put in my poor, recently sliced up eye. My lids are a hideous bruised red color, obscenely swollen and vision’s more than a little fuzzed. Motherfucking HELL and shit.

Headed into the ER now. BIG fun.

Yeah, pic at left is NOT of my Frankenstinian eye.

You’re welcome.

Sound and Vision

I can’t get new glasses for a month. I guess my left peeper vision’s just gonna get better and better (!!!) over that time so getting a ‘script now would be all preemie – a waste. That’s OK – the lamps, as they are now, give me a dandy enough view for driving and painting. Granted, I’m not gonna be taking any long motor trips for a while. I do have some smarts, ya know.

I dreamed of clay again. Specifically fluid form, molto organic vases. They were terra cotta with bright turquoise glaze glowing, promising secrets, on the inside. When I woke I immediately thought of similar shapes done in stoneware and then wood-fired. When spring comes, when warm weather arrives, I am SO bringing my wheel up onto the front porch. I need the peace, the meditation of throwing.

Back in my college days, I knew a blind potter. She was in the MFA program doing sculptural vignettes of cartoonish pigs. They were sailors on ships, farmer swine tilling fields, biz hogs being…ya know, piggy. Very cute but terribly twee. Still, this woman was a fab inspiration. If blind, I could still be an artist!

Why I live where I live – THIS!

This naturally puts Evelyn Glennie, the brill deaf percussionist, in mind. I would LOVE to see/feel her music live and in person. Looks like she performs, mostly in the U.K. though. The Bristol Jazz & Blues Fest gig look particularly inviting. ROAD TRIP!

In the meantime, I gotta begin a new painting. I’ve a small canvas that's cannibalizable. It’s a perfect size for a portrait of one of the wonderful chums I saw whilst out in the Wild West. I’m inspired by Cian McLoughlin’s work, seen while on my Dublin odyssey. Also too, P-town artist Cassandra Complex. Portraits – they don’t have to be dull characterizations which only resonate with loved ones.

I also need to start a big’un – another painting of The Amazing Bob. Call it grief management – a way of acknowledging and swimming through the pain without drowning.

Sound and Vision – Bowie

Made it!

HEY! I've made it to Friday WITH both eyes! This, I only mention it, is some awesome shit. Oh, YES it is!

Yesterday, first thing, Oni brought me into the post cutterage appointment with my humor enhanced, madly stylin’ and fabuloso surgeon, Doc Davies. (LOVE her. Think I want to paint her)

I had loads of questions like:

• why'd it take so long? 
• wut up with the knife action? I thought this was all done with lasers and pixie dust.
• when do I get the other eye done?

I learned:
1) The procedure took longer than I'd anticipated  because I had a very special, uncommon, surgically persnikety, dodgy-ass cataract. Of course I did – far be it from me to have some dull, run of the mill, easy-peasy eyeball cloud. What I had, in the back of my left orb, was actually a giant polar bear butt. REALLY! How the hell it got in there is absolutely beyond me.

Pretty sure she said polar bear ass. Okay, okay, she might have said posterior polar cataract. Same thing right?

Whatever – it made the sitch a lot more complicated and dicey. I'm glad I was unaware. 

2) No, cataract surgery is not done with lasers and pixie dust (huh) but the second half, the follow up of Wednesday's big event will be – no scalpels. Yeah, I'm not quite done yet but the BIG BAD part's over.

3) Other eye slice-age is up to me. It depends on my vision and, ya know, whether I get the urge, a hankering to go under the knife. I think I'll wait and see.

Bottom line – the week's BIG event was a raging success. A perfect 10 and all that. PHEW

Good morning. Now, get outta my face so's I can eat, Woman!

 Recovery will take about a month but I can go back to the Y (treadmill – definitely, elliptical – in a week-ish, pool – in a month) now. Yea me! Today all I have on my plate is work, walk, run a coupla errands and feed cats. Normal stuff – NO great big, scary and possibly life altering challenges on today’s agenda. Christ, that feels good.

In all the slice and dice fuss I sorta, kinda missed Valentine’s Day. This my second one without The Amazing Bob. We weren’t deeply, desperately, Hallmarkishly  romantic but we did observe the day in our own way. So yeah, it was another hurdle to clear. Jen, VERY thoughtfully helped Coco and Umlaut pick out a card for me AND she got me a fabolicious cupcake. That and she picked up some incredible grub from our new fave Thai joint last night.

I'm feeling very lucky today.

 

Eyeball Day – Update

After –  Can I go home NOW!

Before – cracking wise w/the techs

I'm home and, finally, up from the world's longest nap. I feel certain the mammoth siesta was as much about the damn cold I'm rockin' as surgery stress and the mega meds they pumped into me.

Just a minor point but I could've done with a bit more eyeball numbing. I actually felt the knife at times and, boyhowdy, that's no goddamned fun. I managed to – loudly, I believe – bark *OUCH* in hopes they'd cut that shit right out.

Ya know, the knife surprised me. I thought this was all done with magic lasers and fairy dust now. Nope. Also too, I thought this was supposed to be a lickety-split-blink-and-ya-miss-it procedure. I wasn't at the mercies of the good cutter's scalpel for hours or anything but it wasn't the Speedy Gonzales episode I'd hoped for. My follow up with Doc Davies early tomorrow morning. I'll ask wut up then.

By the by, she gave me a thumbs up before I was wheeled to recovery so I guess that means I still have two eyeballs. YEA ME!!!
 ~~~
Jen and I leave in 15 minutes for MGH and my very first cataract surgery. Do I know how to sparkle up a Wednesday or WHAT?

I'm still rockin' a bit of a cold but it doesn't seem too heinous. REALLY hoping the docs don't tell me "oh no, sorry – we can't slice you up if you've got the sniffles." That would totally mega blow – I do NOT want to put this off. I've been dreading it for months. I've done all my pre-surgery prep (no wine for a week now!) and am ready to go.

I asked Jen yesterday, "if I lose the eye will I still be able to drive?" I hate driving but, living out here on the Neck, it kinda comes in handy. And, yes, I'm being all skittishly, fearful and dramatic. Dirty job, someone's got to do it and all that.

She assured me that I wouldn't be short a peeper. OK, maybe I'll just say that I can't drive anymore.

Worry is a misuse of imagination.
~ Dan Zadra

Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.
~ Helen Keller