Part of the reason I haven’t posted is because I’ve been working on new artwork.
Part of the reason I haven’t posted is because my head seems to have come loose. I can’t move around much or it falls off. Since typing is such an aerobic experience I’ve had to limit myself to only a few minutes a week. I have to type with one hand while the other holds my head in place.
I remember finding it ironic that the President was opposed to stem cell research. Given his apparent opposition to active thought he seemed like a prime candidate for Alzheimer’s.
Apparently he’s not just a candidate. He’s already been elected. Via Daily Kos.
It’s about three am. I’m awake. Not, I’m awake because I haven’t been to bed yet. I’m awake after having woken up at about 1 o’clock and, so far, being unable to go back to sleep.
Very odd. I’m not someone who has trouble with sleep. I fall asleep easily. I wake up (more or less) easily (though with much caffeine these days). I sleep until the alarm gets me up. If I wake up in the night I usually just need to use the toilet. Once I’m back in bed and cuddled around the snoring delight that is my Nizzibet I’m on my way back to slumberland.
So tonight is an aberration.
I spent almost an hour surfing the net, hoping that that would put me down. Nope.
I figured that I would take extreme measures and have a beer. Beer generally makes me sleepy. I’d bought a Yeti Ale the last time Nizzie sent me to get her beer. I’ve looked. Google didn’t turn up any sight. It’s a fairly strong beer/ale that I wouldn’t mind drinking once in while. Better than the Sasquatch stout I had a few years back. The Yeti is from a French brewery, however, and I’ve only seen it at Larry’s so I probably won’t be drinking it often.
It only accomplished part of its mission unfortunately. I’m drowsier. Not enough to sleep. Time for a Newcastle.
The first couple of items that ended up on my wishlist were both books by Brian Hodge. Hodge is one of my favorite authors. I believe he’s only had one novel published in hardback (through a mainstream publisher at least). Mostly he’s published paperback originals and mostly they’ve been horror novels. Just about everything he’s ever published is out of print. Unlike many horror novelists Hodge is quite happy to end his stories bleakly and sadly. If I were to suggest what the prevailing mood in his fiction is, I’d say it was melancholy. None of his characters are heroic except by accident. They may be basically good people and they may do heroic things but none of them are larger than life.
Despite the lack of happy endings Hodge’s writing has a sense of humor (often very dry and very black) and an odd poetry. The rhythm is more blues and rock than pop, fitting since Hodge is also a musician. I’ll have to see if he has released any CDs.
Lies and Ugliness: a collection of short stories.
Dark Advent: one of Hodge’s early novels. And the only one I don’t own.
So I’ve been compiling a wishlist at Amazon.com. It’s currently got 21 pages listing 507 items. I’m not sure where I’d put it if I got everything on the list. Not that I expect to get much of it. Any of it really. It’s not there as a guide for other people so much as it’s a way for me to possess things that I don’t have the finances to buy (much less the space to store them once I bought them.) Virtual materialism. Who lusts after the most interesting stuff? Y’know?
I encouraged Nizzibet to start a list of her own after she mentioned that there were things she wished she got as presents that I had no idea she wanted. I’m a lousy mindreader. I manage to give her presents she likes because I have a good memory. But it’s only a good memory around things I’m interested in. A desire for histories of Cuba I can remember. A desire for certain types of gemstones? Nah.
(She’s not actually interested in Giant Geese of Doom. That was meant for my list. I oopsed and have been too lazy to fix it. Still too lazy. Probably could have fixed it in the time it’s taken to write this paragraph.)
Anyway, I’ll be nattering on about various items and groups of items on my wishlist for a few post and thought I should warn y’all.
Cheers!
Via Nick Brownlow, a new Oz comic – Dorothy of Oz. Haven’t read it. Looks pretty.
Why no, I haven’t died or anything serious like that. Just catching up on sleep. Posting should resume on a sporadic basis today. I’d say regular basis but shiny objects do tend to grab my attention suddenly.
A splash of Burnett’s Vanilla flavored vodka. More or less equal parts Smirnoff Ice Triple Black and Mountain Dew. Add a few shakes of cayenne pepper.
Deliciously awful.
Put Midnight Oil’s Blue Sky Mining into the CD player. Let the brain melt.
I’ve been reading the original Gangs of New York. I can see why Scorsese thought there was good movie to be hacked out it. Shame he chose the plot he did. There were many far more interesting stories available in actual New York history.
Nizzibet is sleeping on the couch. It’s sometime after midnight. I’m drinking gin. Not because I like it. It just happens to be the most tolerable of the alcohols available.
No. That’s not accurate. The white wine in the fridge would probably taste better. But given a choice of the “hard” alcohols the gin seemed like a better choice. And I’m out of tequila.
Drinking gin tells me one thing. I prefer tequila. Vodka, rum, vermouth, gin, wine – none of them sit on my brain as comfortably.
Speed would be fun. A little coke. Definitely some acid. Or shrooms. But I’ve lost those connections. I may know some sources but it’s rude to ask for a drug connection from people you only see every few months.
So I’m stuck with the legal stuff. Caffeine. Alcohol. Prescription drugs. My prescription, Zoloft, might be fun in large doses but I don’t feel like experimenting with it that way. I was taking it to manage my depression/anger while caretaking Aged Mother. Now that she’s gone I’m continuing to take it, in slightly lower dosages, because a cold turkey quit is supposed to be … unadvised.
Most of the effects don’t sound too bad, sound even a little fun, but the “intense headaches” I can do without. Headaches are the one pain I’m not good at managing. I’m a wimp with headaches. I know people who function with migraines. Hard for me to conceive of.
Anyway … A.M. came home last weekend. A simple black plastic box containing ashes. We had her cremated with her teddy bears (the one Nizz gave her for Christmas and the one Esteemed Brother gave her when he visited in June) and The Quilt. The Quilt was my baby quilt. My grandmother made it for me when I was a baby – patchwork, crazy style. A.M. put a new lining on it when the original got too ragged.
While she was here we used it as a lap blanket to keep her warm when she sat at the table.
It was too short for regular use. I loved it too much to throw it away. Now it’s gone with Mom.
There’s so much work to do. So many people still to contact. Big Sister has looked up possible places to scatter A.M.’s ashes. Big Sister can always be counted on in times of crisis. She and Mom didn’t get along in life. Yet Big Sister credits her for all her skills at saving and managing herself responsibly. Something that A.M. never seemed to be able to hear.
Big Sister tells me that Dad’s ashes still await scattering. Heh. He’s been four years gone now.
Me, I want to outlive everyone I know, wander off into a wilderness (or into the no-man’s-land around a freeway interchange if all the forests are gone) and drink myself to death. While tripping on something. SOMETHING.
Please.
