Sunday, December 30, 2018

"Autumn Leaves" (Nat King Cole, 1956)

Title song for Joan Crawford's 1956 film.


"Nature Boy" (Nat King Cole, 1950)

There was a boy
A very strange enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far
Very far
Over land and sea
A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he

And then one day
A magic day he passed my way
And while we spoke of many things
Fools and kings
This he said to me
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return"

Thursday, December 27, 2018

Annie Lennox - A Whiter Shade of Pale (1995)

This song now makes me nauseous. Beautiful in 1995, when I was in the midst of constant angst and hurt; today, emotionally disgusting and threatening (a la attempting to listen to Pink Floyd's "The Wall" or Depeche Mode's "Violator" or Amy Winehouse---brilliant odes to sickness---how to escape and move beyond while still honoring...)

Eurythmics - I Need A Man

More than 15 years ago, I saw a show on cable about a female bounty hunter. One thing I remembered was her statement re the job, "I just need men for the physical part of it." She explained that she could do all of the brain-work herself as a bounty hunter re finding the fugitives, but, when it came down to it, she needed men on her team to actually physically get the fugitives in custody.

That's probably indicative in many, many ways.

In my particular way today: I've got a new TV and Blu-ray player. Only... I can't figure out how to get them set up to coordinate with my current Spectrum cable box. I COULD possibly, but the idea of even trying makes me extremely tired and depressed, and I prefer not to. I need a man.


Back in the late '70s when I was a teen, Burt Reynolds and Jan Michael Vincent were both constantly touted in the media, even teen media like "Tiger Beat" and "16," as major hunks.

Burt Reynolds was clearly too old for me to "appreciate" --- by '76, he was already 40, and I was way too young to ever have seen any of his big movies like "Deliverance" ('72), "Smokey and the Bandit" ('77), or "Hooper" ('78).

I saw "Hooper" last night, though, on TCM, as part of a tribute evening to Reynolds. He was a charming rogue, a then-modern-day Clark Gable type. I liked him onscreen, and I liked the movie in a general way. But I couldn't help but edit as I watched.

Reynolds was an aging Hollywood stuntman, Sonny Hooper, still nominally at the top of his game but nonetheless feeling creaky and having constant doctor's appointments and knowing he was on the way out. Girlfriend was Sally Field, daughter of an even older, retired stuntman (Brian Keith)---a Hooper mentor who also couldn't quite give up his former glory days. The film focuses on Hooper on the set of an action film directed by a charmless, aggressive young director intent only on getting the best shot, regardless of the safety of the stunt crew. Newcomer Jan-Michael Vincent is the new hotshot stunt guy on the scene that Hooper realizes is the younger, more daring version of himself who could possibly replace him.

All of the above sounds like it could be a great, emotionally resonant film within all of the action shots. I had no idea what the movie was going to turn out to be, so watched innocently, and with some anticipation...

(1) The initial joke of Adam West (TV's "Batman") playing the star of the film that Hooper was doing the stunts for was interesting. West's character "Adam" was constantly walking around the set with multiple women draped around him and constantly thanking Hooper for making him look good.

(2) The girlfriend also having a stuntman for a father, and her concerns for both her father and lover, was interesting. Except that Sally Field's character was sorely generic: Either the girlfriend was eager for sex after Hooper's long day at work (most likely a stuntman wouldn't feel like having sex after such a day and his girlfriend would know that and have to deal with it), or, near the end of the film, she suddenly gave an ultimatum that she wouldn't be there when he got back... a brief scene based on nothing thus far in the film---thus far, she'd been nothing but supportive and sex-offering. Such a girlfriend would probably be tired of living a non-sexual life despite her boyfriend's overt public sexual image; she would have issues with her father's current physical detriments and her knowledge of her current boyfriend's path down the same road, etc. Not likely that she would all of a sudden threaten to break up without warning.

(3) The new young stuntman on the scene was interesting, of course, because his presence could have led to Hooper's reflections of his past (in contrast to the now-decrepit Brian Keith character --- obviously Hooper's future). Plus the new guy was clearly a present threat to Hooper's livelihood: He was young and fresh and willing to do the stunts on the film that Hooper was hesitant about doing (for both physical and moral reasons). Although, in this film's case, the new guy was immediately a sycophant of Hooper's, grinning and drinking with him --- no threat at all, as he should have been.

A buildup in the film was a spectacularly dangerous stunt that the obnoxious director insisted be done for the sake of his "art," regardless of the danger to the stuntmen. Hooper agonized over whether or not he should do it --- at first deciding against it, then agreeing once his salary was raised. Much better yet would have been the young guy glibly deciding to do the stunt once Hooper had gotten fired for refusing. Having not seen the film, I thought that's what would happen: The young guy would attempt it and get killed. Hooper would then chasten and/or punch the director and then walk away into the sunset with his girlfriend...

As it happened, Hooper accepted the money on behalf of himself and the new guy for the dangerous stunt. The two rode in a car together and whooped it up as they made the big jump successfully. Hooper did punch the director afterward, and he/girlfriend/her father/young sidekick then marched onward arm-and-arm, grinning. Cute. But I wanted the movie to be so much better.

Wednesday, December 26, 2018

Eric Clapton - Wonderful Tonight

Derek & the Dominos - Bell Bottom Blues (1970)

Did I share this here already? It's great again and again and again...

Blind Faith - Presence of the Lord (Hyde Park, 1969)

Cream - I Feel Free (1967)

Winter Break Progress

Saturday, December 22: Got all of my grocery shopping done for the next 2 weeks. Went in to work for a freelance project.
Sunday, December 23: Got all of my laundry done for the next 3 weeks, including changing out the sheets of my bed in anticipation of actually sleeping in my bed for the first time in months, since I now have a new TV to watch in my bedroom.
Monday, December 24: Hangover. Did nothing but lie on the couch and watch TV.
Tuesday, December 25: Went in to work for a freelance project.

Tomorrow: How to figure out the new TV, new Blu-ray, new Roku stick...

I made a hundred bucks today.

Not trying to be all sassy re not spending Christmas with family, as you're supposed to do, but... I spent Christmas at the office putting in 4 hours toward a freelance project, a book about African women's naked protests against the hierarchy. Made a hundred dollars.

Did I miss my family on Christmas? Actually, no.

My mother has always provided a great Christmas since I was a kid. Warm and nice. I miss that.

Lately, though... Christmas has been trying to coordinate with my brother's wife's family. They're nice enough. But I don't care about coordinating with them. They don't mean "Christmas" to me at all.

I haven't spent Christmas with my mother and brother/family for the past 3 years. 2016 was the first year apart, when I arrived at my mother's house with my bag o' presents and she immediately went on: "Where's your car? Where's your car? Where's your car?" (My new as-of-July 2016 car was parked down the street; when I said, "It's parked down the street," my mother still couldn't figure that out: "Where's your car? Where's your car? Where's your car?" I couldn't stand it for a second longer and left.)

2017 and 2018? Apart because my mother made the mistake last year of telling me that I wasn't going to be left 50% of her will (only 25%), which flashed me back to every shitty thing she'd ever done to me.

Truth is, though, my mother and brother haven't been very caring toward me... EVER. I don't miss them during the holidays at all. I do miss the nice Christmas atmosphere that my mother created all during my childhood, though.

Oh well. I made a hundred bucks today. And the lack of traffic in Austin on Christmas was very nice to drive around in. I appreciate "different sensations." And since I'm going nowhere, Austin during Christmas and Spring Break and Summer Break are apparently what I now have to look forward to each year. Oh, and new TVs.

Monday, December 24, 2018

I got called "ma'am" twice today.

I've got 11 days off work for Christmas, with a bunch of stuff to do.

Day One: Did grocery shopping for the next two weeks, including cigs for two weeks and champagne for New Year's.
Day Two:  Did not just regular laundry but also sheets from a bed that has not been properly slept in for 6 months. I washed every single thing in my house that needed washing.

Today (Day Two), around 9am, I was out in my backyard beating my comforter, when a 20-something guy walked by with his dog. I said "Good morning." The guy said back, "Morning, ma'am."

An hour or so later, I was in the process of doing my 4 loads of laundry in the laundry room. As I entered, there was one guy there. I said "Good morning," and then saw a debit card sitting on one of the laundry machines. I asked the guy if the card was his: "Yes,  ma'am."

I wasn't dressed in a muu-muu or anything. I appreciate the politeness of these young men, but...I used to think I was cute.

Now that I know I'm no longer cute... Perhaps best to "work it" when it comes to apartment living. When I want to criticize the next-door neighbors for their loud music, all I need to do is show up at their door with my glasses and sweatpants and they'll then feel bad for inconveniencing their elders.

Sunday, December 23, 2018

Merry Christmas to me!

After initially feeling woebegone about not being around my family this Christmas, a week or so ago I decided to use my own income to buy myself some stuff for my own Christmas: A 43-inch TV, a Blu-ray player, and a Roku stick.

Family can be depressing, but buying yourself things is not. For example: Just a couple of years ago, my brother and I were at my mom's house during Thanksgiving and she asked both of us what we wanted for Christmas. I mentioned an electric toothbrush, but worried aloud to her that it might be too expensive.

As the day wore on, I later accidentally came upon my mother and my brother in her study, discussing the bookshelves she was going to buy him for Christmas... ($30 toothbrush versus $800 shelves--and to think that I was initially worried about the cost of the toothbrush, which my mother did not assuage while she was planning for my brother's fancy bookshelves!)

This shitty scene also flashed me back to one of the last times I talked to my father, over 10 years ago, during which he mentioned pride in his niece Jeanie for having married a lawyer. (No concern for his daughter with a Master's degree at that time living in a 400-sq-ft apartment, no pride in his daughter's previous achievements, no desire to help her out of her current rut...just pride in someone who'd married well.)

I remain constantly shocked by such blatant disregard for me as a person. This year, though, I move on in a small way: I can buy whatever I need myself. I don't have to ask anyone for a toothbrush or for anything. This year I've given myself a 43-inch TV and a new Blu-ray player and a Roku stick. Merry Christmas to me!

Thursday, December 20, 2018

Circa 1976. Me-maw and grandkids.

(I'm half-hidden behind cousin Randy Jean, who's in the blue halter top. My brother Thomas is up front.)

One of the Original 12 Minerals on Earth

Working around geologists, I just recently discovered that at the beginning of Earth's formation, there were only 12 minerals:  "The earliest interstellar material, including diamond, graphite, corundum [ruby, sapphire], and olivine [peridot]—a total of just 12 minerals."

Today on Earth, there are over 4,000 minerals. Apparently, the minerals evolve and reproduce!

I was surprised to learn that one of the original 12, olivine, was currently available for purchase online. (How would something so rare be so available?) I bought some rough versions, for around $9 apiece. In their polished forms, they're "peridot," my August Leo birthstone. But I'm much more interested in knowing that, in whatever form, olivine was one of the first minerals, EVER, on Earth. The chunks, pictured below, that I bought for $9 apiece are over 4 million years old. I got a bargain!

Tuesday, December 18, 2018

1945: "Children of Paradise"

As I was going to sleep Monday night, checked on TCM, which was showing the French "Children of Paradise" from 1am to 5am. Four hours! I'd never heard of it, and thought a 4-hour-long film was odd, but tried to stay up as long as I could... As I initially started watching, I had the sound turned down on my TV and had on Disc 2 of the "Complete Eric Clapton"  and, oddly, the songs seemed to mesh perfectly with the film, as if it were a Silent...

I had no clue what was going on onscreen, the visuals were so strange. I had to make a note to myself of the name of the film to look up the next day, because whatever was happening seemed significant. (It seemed more like an early silent film than a film from 1945.)

I was only able to watch 45 minutes or so before falling asleep. And here is my looking up the next day.

1954. Joan Crawford in "Johnny Guitar."

If you can't be with the one you luff... stuff!

I've lived in my current apartment for a year and a half. From the beginning, I had two TVs, one for the living room, one for the bedroom. But my cable provider Spectrum couldn't figure out my initial order of TWO boxes, one for each set. And so I lived with just the TV in the living room (the bedroom TV sitting there blankly). After a few months came a big electrical storm that killed my living room TV (the better one). I threw that one out, moved the smaller unused bedroom TV to my living room, which is what I've been living with ever since (no loss, since the bedroom TV had never been in use).

As of today... I finally got sick of always going to sleep on the living-room couch watching TV! I'm addicted to TV, and I need to go to sleep to it. But having no TV in the bedroom, despite having a great queen-sized bed, I could never just leave the living room to officially GO TO BED. Today, I finally made the move to try to adjust to an actual real sleeping schedule: I ordered another TV for the bedroom, along with a Roku stick, so I can still see my cable! (In other news, I also ordered a Blu-ray player for the living-room TV.)

Now, once all of this "fancy" stuff arrives, it's going to take me a while to get all of it figured out, what with all the passwords needed, etc. But STILL... I'm FINALLY going to be using my bedroom, with its very nice bed, to sleep in!!

All of this ordering is in anticipation of my upcoming 11 days off of work, during which I'll have time to work on stuff, re-adjust, get re-situated from a VERY crappy 2018 and perhaps start off 2019 in a better way, at least electronically, but also...getting to sleep in that nice, until-now-infrequently-used-queen-sized bed! (Which has had the same set of sheets on it for nearly a year! I can't wait to wash those and change 'em out! New Year!)

Sunday, December 16, 2018

Event (Sylvia Plath, May 21, 1962)

How the elements solidify! ---
The moonlight, that chalk cliff
In whose rift we lie

Back to back. I hear an owl cry
From its cold indigo.
Intolerable vowels enter my heart.

The child in the white crib revolves and sighs,
Opens its mouth now, demanding.
His little face is carved in pained, red wood.

Then there are the stars --- ineradicable, hard.
One touch: it burns and sickens.
I cannot see your eyes.

Where apple bloom ices the night
I walk in a ring,
A groove of old faults, deep and bitter.

Love cannot come here.
A black gap discloses itself.
On the opposite lip

A small white soul is waving, a small white maggot.
My limbs, also, have left me.
Who has dismembered us?

The dark is melting. We touch like cripples.

Wednesday, December 12, 2018

Christmas in Jail (The Youngsters, 1956)


In 2016, I started a stash of cash---money people seemed to be just giving me for various reasons. Initially, I was saving it all for mover's fees since I didn't like the new apartment that I'd just moved into and was planning for what it would cost me the next year to move out. But, as it turned out, my apartment is now fine. The trailer-park-like assholes with their chaos and "pool parties" and firecrackers and dogs running loose have been gone since last March. The two 20-something dudes next door have been quiet since August of this year (after my 5th complaint and the management's promise to tell them to shut up).

I currently don't feel like moving at all. And now I have $600 in cash sitting around! Where'd it come from? $100 was a birthday gift bill from my mother in 2016. $100 was a bill from a bet my brother lost on the Trump election (ha!!!!). $100 was a bill I just received today from a former professor where I work, for cleaning up his 92-year-old uncle's memoirs. The rest (in 20s and 10s) from random Chinese students/professors for editing their papers.

What to do with $600? It doesn't change my life. I make a decent monthly income; I usually always have extra petty cash to buy the used books and CDs and clothes that I want. I live in an apartment, and I will always live in an apartment --- the $600 doesn't change that, of course. It doesn't do any anything for me at all. The new phone, microwave, TV, chair that I mentioned having plans for buying over Christmas in an earlier post: I can buy all of that anyway, with no perceptible change to my life.

Still: I have a big chunk of money sitting around! As a former poor person: It's nice!

1941. Joan Crawford publicity for "A Woman's Face"

Tuesday, December 11, 2018

The Times Are Tidy (Sylvia Plath, 1958)

Unlucky the hero born
In this province of the stuck record
Where the most watchful cooks go jobless
And the mayor's rotisserie turns
Round of its own accord.

There's no career in the venture
Of riding against the lizard,
Himself withered these latter-days
To leaf-size from lack of action:
History's beaten the hazard.

The last crone got burnt up
More than eight decades back
With the love-hot herb, the talking cat,
But the children are better for it,
The cow milks cream an inch thick.

Monday, December 10, 2018

Last Days of Plath

For years through my teen and twenties, I used to keep Plath's "Collected Poems" by my bed. For the clarity of angst, anger, the purity of language amid such fierce emotions. In years since then, her words are sometimes the first coming to me upon waking nauseous from a hangover caused by both beer and emotional betrayal: "What have I eaten? Lies and smiles."

Plath's words were mine in my teens, before any real heartbreak or morning-after nausea. But when heartbreak, true heart sickness, came... she made things both better and worse. She lent a purity and starkness and historical backdrop to the suffering, a godsend. But then she also indicated that such pain could NOT be tolerated...

At 53, I'd like to tell the 30-year-old Plath: Sure it can. Give it a few years or decades. Assia Wevill is a thrice-married Skank. Ted Hughes is a lower-class whore himself who got lucky with you. Would it be so painful to go back to the States and have a pleasant life? I'm sure, at 30, it initially seemed tragic that your raw literarily-infused sexual fantasy didn't come true, but...given a decade or so, you would have recognized and more fully appreciated the value of the calm and lucidity that you so purely (and ironically and heroically, given the circumstances) displayed in your poems, even right up until the end. You saw the deeply flawed Ted and couldn't live with "it," or without it, at the moment. I think, though, given a decade or so, you could have come to peace with the "letting go" of his chaos. And sought peace.

I feel terrible for her. I've had a few people that I was in love with in my life, but nothing that approached a true physical/spiritual/mental union. Even these random people hurt me deeply. I can only barely imagine what Plath felt.

Mystic (February 1, 1963)

The air is a mill of hooks ---
Questions without answer,
Glittering and drunk as flies
Whose kiss stings unbearably
In the fetid wombs of black air under pines in summer.

I remember
The dead smell of sun on wood cabins,
The stiffness of sails, the long salt winding sheets.
Once one has seen God, what is the remedy?
Once one has been seized up

Without a part left over,
Not a toe, not a finger, and used,
Used utterly, in the sun's conflagrations, the stains
That lengthen from ancient cathedrals
What is the remedy?

The pill of the Communion tablet,
The walking beside water? Memory?
Or picking up the bright pieces
Of Christ in the faces of rodents,
The tame flower-nibblers, the ones

Whose hopes are so low they are comfortable ---
The humpback in his small, washed cottage
Under the spokes of the clematis.
Is there no great love, only tenderness?
Does the sea

Remember the walker upon it?
Meaning leaks from the molecules.
The chimneys of the city breathe, the window sweats,
The children leap in their cots.
The sun blooms, it is a geranium.

The heart has not stopped.

Saturday, December 08, 2018

Baby It's Cold Outside: Dean Martin (1959)

At a Christmas party about 10 years ago in Austin, an Irish guy first pointed out to me that this was actually a "date-rape" song. Whaaaaat? At the time, I laughed and somewhat agreed with his audacious argument: Yes, the guy in the song really was trying to talk the girl into staying... Little did I know that by 2018, the song would represent a ridiculous "anti-rape" social-media talking point for left-wing ideologues.

In my bisexual, feminist, politically independent opinion (from someone who has been actually raped): It's a cute, sexy song. I'd personally like to be talked into having sex with Dean Martin.

I'm sick to death of today's leftists crying wolf about rape, racism, dictators, etc. When the real thing actually does happen, no one's going to believe you idiots because you've been lying about the real threat for so long.

Kay Starr - The Man With The Bag (1950)

My Christmas CD Collection

Ray Anthony: Christmas Trumpets/We Wish You A Merry Christmas (1966)

Have yourself a sassy little Christmas!

Friday, December 07, 2018

Excerpts from Plath

As a poet, I'm proud to say that at my best, I am better than Plath at her worst. (Most self-proclaimed "poets" can't say that at all.) However, when Plath is at her best, like in these excerpts, she's among the immortals like Shakespeare, Rilke, Eliot...

They enter as animals from the outer
Space of holly where spikes
Are not the thoughts I turn on, like a Yogi,
But greenness, darkness so pure
They freeze and are.


This is what it is like ---
A red burst and a cry
That splits from its ripped bag and does not stop
With the dead eye
And the stuffed expression, but goes on
Dyeing the air,
Telling the particles of the clouds, the leaves, the water
What immortality is. That it is immortal.


Thursday, December 06, 2018

Eric Clapton, Steve Winwood: Presence of the Lord (2007, from the 1969 Blind Faith original)

I have finally found a way to live
Just like I never could before.
I know that I don't have much to give,
But I can open any door.

Everybody knows the secret,
Everybody knows the score.
I have finally found a way to live
In the color of the Lord.

I have finally found a place to live
Just like I never could before.
And I know I don't have much to give,
But soon I'll open any door.

Everybody knows the secret,
Everybody knows the score.
I have finally found a place to live
In the presence of the Lord.
In the presence of the Lord.

I have finally found a way to live
Just like I never could before.
And I know I don't have much to give,
But I can open any door.

Everybody knows the secret,
I said everybody knows the score.
I have finally found a way to live
In the color of the Lord.
In the color of the Lord.

Things to be happy about

Though, for a second year, I probably won't be spending any Christmas time with my mother and brother/family (mildly depressing, but not completely, because they've been "blah" toward me for the past however-many years --- I'm finally just calling them on it), I am nonetheless looking forward to Christmas, as I usually do. While I don't have anyone to buy for this year (which I usually look forward to), I still like the crisp weather of the season, and the bright lights and cinnamony smells and Christmas music in stores. (RE the latter: Just found out the Austin Christmas-music station: 95.5, which I added to my car stereo.)

I'm also looking forward to 11 days off work --- only 2 more weeks of work left before the vacation. I have a very first-world goal during this time: To buy 3 out of these 4 things: (1) A new TV and Roku stick for my bedroom (because I'm tired of sleeping on the living room coach just so I can go to sleep watching TV). (2) A new microwave (because my current one is a 1985 hand-me-down from my mother). (3) A new phone (because my current phone is 1 x 3 inches, a freebie from T-Mobile given to me in 2007 when I first signed up for a cell phone before I moved to New York). (4) A black leather recliner-chair for my living room (because I'm tired of always immediately lying down on my couch when I get home).

I think I can psychologically do at least the new TV/Roku and microwave. But the concept of finally getting a smart phone seems hard to me, and I don't know if I really need a big ol' chair.

Of course, what makes all of this possible: My job! Did I mention already that I've been kicking ass at it? Thanks to my boss for giving me the raise a couple of years ago. I still can't afford to buy a house, but then, at 53, I don't know that I WANT a house and all of the payments and repair-costs that come along with it. With a mid-level income, the time to buy a house is in your 30s, when you have all of your future life and energy and money (and 30-year-mortgage) to put into it. At 53, my future work-life is only 15 years, and, as a single, middle-aged, non-handy woman, I certainly don't have/won't ever have the energy or know-how or extra money to do any repairs that may arise. So, I'm not so depressed about the idea of never being able to have a house.

I've reached the conclusion, though, that, going forward, I might just be OK with what I have. My current salary allows me things like regularly ordering books and CDs, as well as occasionally getting a new phone or TV or appliance or chair.

Tuesday, December 04, 2018

In for the Winter

The rickety table that once hosted me and my computer back when I lived in one room (2010 through 2015) is now a table for plants when I've brought them in from my backyard for the winter.

p.s. In Penny News: Of the four stray cats (Penny, Henny Penny, Papa Penny, L'il Penny) that I've been feeding since July --- L'il Penny has disappeared. Papa Penny and Penny show up maybe twice a week. The most constant is Henny (the one with the scar on his/her nose), who has now taken to waiting daily on my backyard fence for me to come home after work --- then meows dramatically as I get his/her food dish ready, even letting me pet her/him sometimes. I keep thinking of when my lease is up in April... What will happen to the Penny Family? If I stay, no problem, but if I leave...

Good Day

I've been especially kicking ass for the past two months at work: Report to the Governor, new radio show transcripts, Annual Report, plus keeping up with an 800-page book that's going to be published in 2019. I've been utterly on top of everything, and today I got some mild recognition for it. And it was a beautiful 60-degree, clean, crisp day outside. I felt glad to be alive.

Note to self: Don't ever let others bring you down (because they will, they will). Be true to yourself and what makes YOU happy (pre and post any lovers or would-be lovers --- you were always yourself before and after any of them).

Sunday, December 02, 2018

Sandra's Theme (Eric Clapton, 1978)

Amazing what you can get done when you get up at 5:45am!

Well, it wasn't that amazing, but still...

I hadn't done laundry in 4 weeks. I had organized piles in my bedroom (whites/jeans/blacks), but there they sat.

My two toilets were disgusting. (How did ONE person fuck up TWO toilets?)

I woke up Saturday with a hangover (as usual every other day). While watching the Longhorns game from my couch, got pumped up enough about the game (and disgusted with myself) to aggressively clean the fucking toilets during the ads.

Sunday was the 5:45am wakeup day, totally not hung over. A really pretty fall day in Austin, 70 degrees. Did the laundry, went and put in 4 hours of extra work, got gas in my car. Came home and then... the day was so beautiful and mellow, I felt like going back out again! Went and deposited 3-month-old checks for $51 (from an August towing refund and a candy-machine refund) that I couldn't quite figure out how to deposit before... Austin's great on a Sunday.

The only thing I regret is the shitty McDonald's "Egg McMuffin Meal" I got before going into work --- crummy sandwich/hashbrown wedge/watered-down orange juice for over $6.

Saturday, December 01, 2018

Eric Clapton: Running On Faith (Unplugged) 1992

Lately I've been running on faith
What else can a poor boy do?
But my world will be right
When love comes over you

Lately I've been talking in my sleep
I can't imagine what I'd have to say
Except my world will be right
When love comes back your way

I've always been
One to take each and every day
Seems like by now
I'd find a love who cares just for me

Then we'd go running on faith
All of our dreams would come true
And our world will be right
When love comes over me and you


Then we'd go running on faith
All of our dreams would come true
And our world will be right
When love comes over me and you
When love comes over you

Eric Clapton: Tears In Heaven (Unplugged) 1992


Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?

I must be strong
And carry on
'Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven

Would you hold my hand
If I saw you in heaven?
Would you help me stand
If I saw you in heaven?

I'll find my way
Through night and day
'Cause I know I just can't stay
Here in heaven

Time can bring you down
Time can bend your knees
Time can break your heart
Have you begging please, begging please

Beyond the door
There's peace I'm sure
And I know there'll be no more
Tears in heaven

Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would you be the same
If I saw you in heaven?

I must be strong
And carry on
'Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven

'Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven