Dolly Parton: Dumb Blonde (1967)

 

Dolly Parton: Jolene (1974)

Silver Threads and Golden Needles (1993): Loretta, Tammy, Dolly

 

Dolly Parton (1977): Here You Come Again / Two Doors Down

 

I grew up listening to Dolly on my dad's AM radio and on "Hee-Haw,"
but the first time I ever discovered her for myself was hearing "Here You Come Again" 

and "Two Doors Down" when I was listening to the radio for myself.

To this day, I still relate to the lyrics of "Two Doors Down," as I did when I was 12. 

At the time, I thought that would be a sad situation (with a happy ending).
When I was in college, being on the outside was the story of my life.
Today, pretty much the same!

Two doors down
They're laughing and drinkin', and having a party
Two doors down
They're not aware that I'm around

Cause here I am
Crying my heart out, feelin' sorry while
They're having a party just two doors down

I think I'll dry these useless tears
And get myself together
I think I'll wonder down the hall
And have a look around
'Cause I can't stay inside
This lonely room and cry forever
I think I really rather join 'em
Two doors down, yeah

Two doors down
They're laughing and drinkin', and having a party
Two doors down
They're not aware that I'm around

'Cause here I am
No longer cryin' an' feelin' sorry
We're having a party just two doors down

I can't believe I'm standin' here
Dry-eyed, all smiles and talkin'
Making conversation with the new love I have found
I ask him if he'd like to be alone and we start walkin'
Down the hall to my place waitin' two doors down, yeah

Two doors down
They're laughing and drinkin', and having a party
Two doors down
We're not aware that they're around

'Cause here I am
Feelin' everything but sorry
We're having our own party two doors down

Dolly Parton: 9 to 5

 

Back in October 2019, I posted the below to the YouTube page for this Dolly song:

"Monday, I found out that a 32-year-old tech guy with no editing experience was offered the same salary as me (20 years' experience in editing and 5 years at the company). This song is an inspiration. Gave my official letter asking for a raise yesterday. We'll see what happens."

Got 2.5 thousand views, and many responses! Which I had not gone back to check on until now, upon Dolly's death. Many people asked me what had happened. Tonight, I was busy responding after 6 years:
"I quit, and then was doing temp work for a few months. In March of 2020, I finally got a new job, which I still have today----at $13K more per year!"

Dolly Parton: Coat of Many Colors (1970)

 

RIP Dolly Parton (1946 - 2026)

 

My Cats

I just ordered/received a small wall-hanging from Amazon: 
"That's it, you're going in the soup."
I had a nook in my hallway that held bowls and stones and dried flowers----
and then some dancing cats figurines! The new hanging fit in perfectly!

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My real-life 5 cats:

Mama: Mama Hennessy, Mama Cat, Mama-Moo, Hennessy Mon Amour.
Mini: Solomon Grundy, My Familiar, Moonshine, Baby Shine, Monkey Shine. Mini-apolis (City of Mini---Mini, o, Mini)
Sasha: "Biggest Kitten and Smartest Kitten," Nasha, Noodles.
Pete: My Boy. "Mr. Pete, fast on his feet." So Handsome. Boy of the House. Man of the House. Peter-Patsy. Patsy-Cat.

Cinco Beasly:  "Curly top and a curly tail." "Grease-monk." "Miss PEEsly." 
(She's not fixed and pees all over the place.)

Kinda Sad

I've been working at home since COVID struck in Spring of 2020. 

I'd quit my previous job in October 2019, was working temp stuff in the meantime, and then got hired at the new job in March 2020. Which, at the time, had a physical location only about 10 mins away from my apartment---so I was excited about the new job being so close to my home. 

As it happened, hardly anyone in the US went back to work for a couple of years. I continued to work for this company, which then got sold a couple of times. But basically the same group of people on the team.

When I first started, the local boss held "meet-ups" every 6 months or so. At a local bar, or even at his house. He left soon after, and the new boss held one meet-up a few years ago, then nothing since then.

People have come and gone. They usually leave without warning. One graphic artist, Ed, even died (I never learned the details; we got a brief e-mail that his wife has died----and then a month or so later, that HE had died).

My current boss is more of a technocrat: She has multiple degrees in Education; she's quite up on the unnecessary AGILE. She's not into "meet-ups."

Today, she requested that we all give our vacation plans thru next May. 

I've been working with her for the past 6 years. Have only interacted with her at the early "meet-ups" organized by the first boss back in 2020. 

When she requested our vacation plans, I mentioned this: That I might be away for a week in September 'cause I was being interviewed for a French TV doc about Joan Crawford! (But: In case the project fell through, I wouldn't be going.)

Now, you would think that any normal person would go: "WHAT?! You're being interviewed for a French TV show! How interesting!"

Nah. She just said: "Make sure that you have not worked over 1912 hours by next May."

WOW. No one that I work remotely with gives a shit about anything that happens in my life. (p.s. What ever happened to Ed?)

The Doors: Break on Through (1967)

 First song on their debut album.

Joy Division: Transmission (1979)

The more I listen to the rawness of Joy Division, 

the more I despise---yes, actually and actively DESPISE---

the insipidness of the aftermath band, New Order, and the hideously 

vapid vocals/keyboards of Bernard Sumner. 

[Intro]
Radio, live transmission
Radio, live transmission

[Verse 1]
Listen to the silence, let it ring on
Eyes, dark grey lenses, frightened of the sun
We would have a fine time living in the night
Left to blind destruction, waiting for our sight

[Verse 2]
And we would go on as though nothing was wrong
And hide from these days we remained all alone
Staying in the same place, just staying out the tide
Touching from a distance, further all the time

[Chorus]
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio

[Verse 3]
Well, I could call out when the going gets tough
The things that we've learnt are no longer enough
No language, just sound, that's all we need know
To synchronise love to the beat of the show
And we could dance!

Joy Division: She's Lost Control (1979)

Is it really that a fictional SHE has "lost control again," or that we're waiting for
Ian Curtis to spaz out again? (Curtis had a calm wife and a calm girlfriend.)
Who's about to lose control? 
Curtis---an epileptic and soon-to-be-suicide---is singing/dancing about himself.



Confusion in her eyes that says it all
She's lost control
And she's clinging to the nearest passerby
She's lost control
And she gave away the secrets of her past
And said, "I've lost control again"
And of a voice that told her when and where to act
She said, "I've lost control again"

And she turned around and took me by the hand
And said, "I've lost control again"
And how I'll never know just why, or understand
She said, "I've lost control again"
And she screamed out, kicking on her side, and said
"I've lost control again"
And seized upon the floor, I thought she'd die
She said, "I've lost control"

[Chorus]
She's lost control again
She's lost control
She's lost control again
She's lost control

Not Dying of Breast Cancer in the Next 6 Months

 

After an unclear diagnosis months ago, I went back for a follow-up mammogram plus some ultrasounds today: 
Right breast has a non-cancerous cyst. If it doesn't bother me, it doesn't bother the doctors. (And I've never even felt it before, so it doesn't bother me.)
Left breast has a centimeter-wide spot that looks primarily benign. I'm to come back in 6 months to see if it has grown any. But in the meantime, I won't die of it. 

Me to my technician who'd taken the scans: "I won't die in the next 6 months?" Her: "We can tell you that you won't die OF BREAST CANCER in the next 6 months!" (We laughed---I could, after all, be hit by a bus on my way home.)

Hooray! I was already trying to figure out what to do with my cats.

"24 Hour Party People" + "Control"

This is a place-holder for what I want to say about these two movies, which I just watched in one night from the Criterion Channel.

To begin: The "24 Hour" movie showed Joy Division's Ian Curtis hanging himself to the sound/video of some squawking chickens on his TV. The film made a big joke of it. The whole movie made a joke of everything, all deaths, all losses. As I trudged my way through the film, I thought, "This can't actually be what the scene was like?" NO SCENE could have ever been this grim, sans some utter exuberance and joy.

Tammy Wynette: Apartment #9 (1966)

Story goes that George Jones first heard this song on the radio while driving around,
and then vowed to meet the singer...
Given the 15 years of extreme personal grief that followed, 
did he wish he HAD or HAD NOT ever met the singer?

Sylvia and Ted, 1958.

This is one of the best photos I've ever seen of the two of them.
(Other than the one while visiting his parents as newlyweds, 
when they were madly in love and literally glowing.)

 

Karma can sometimes be gentle.

I'm aware that I'm often abrupt and judgmental. 

"Judgmental," in my case, meaning more about doing obvious every-day things right rather than moral judgments---although I do very much think that trans-folks should focus on their personal mental health rather than trying to join the military and/or play women's sports. You've got bigger things to worry about. 
Similarly, as a bi/gay person, I don't think that gay people should be allowed to adopt kids. Why? Because procreation is a natural process, best left to those who do it naturally. Why would any gay person be interested in adopting kids, aside from societal reasons---trying to "prove they're normal"? There's no reason at all for gay people to be adopting kids, aside from posing. Just live your life. Leave having kids to those who can actually have them naturally.

----------------------

Above social soapbox aside, and my main point about my own behavior:

I go to the post-office 2 or 3 times a week 'cause I sell a lot of stuff online. 

Earlier this week, there was a "drama" at the PO---a homeless woman had ventured inside and was moaning piteously. A clerk called 911. OK, so EMS has been called and is on the way... But the two clerks on duty then took turns leaving their stations and running outside to see if the EMS was coming...

In the meantime: Only one clerk at the counter, and a long line of 10 or more people.

In this line, a couple of ladies who can't decide which stamps to buy... Seriously: There's a long line, and both of them are dawdling over which "Forever Stamps" they might want.

At this point, after waiting over 20 minutes, my impatience/obnoxiousness kicked in: I finally called out loudly: "Sir! While she's making her choice, can you take another customer?"

The counter-dude (whom I know from my weekly visits) said, "Patience, please!" Which was fair. The lady at the counter: "I've made my choice, thank you!" And then "Patience is a virtue" and then "Have a nice day" and then "You need to learn some manners" and "Bye-bye" as she walked on out the door. To which I juvenilely responded: "Toodle-oo!" and "Arrivederci!" as she walked out. 

SIGH.

Although I thought I had a point (when there's a long line behind you, try to move a bit faster): I felt creepy for days afterwards.

Today, though, I think I got a reprieve from Karma RE "patience"! 

Same post office: Long line; I didn't say a thing.
Returning stuff to UPS store: The clerk didn't correctly scan one of my items, so I had to go back to the store and wait in long line; I said "no problem" as the problem was fixed.
At my local gas station buying beer/cigs: Salesman in the shop offering allegedly free cig coupons if I did a survey and gave my e-mail. I asked specifically if I would get a free pack; he said Yes. After doing the survey, it was for a bunch of brands that I didn't smoke. But OK. I'll try "American Spirit," for instance. But, no, it wasn't for a "free" pack, just dollars off a purchase of two. 

I think the above today made up for my impatience earlier in the week! I was totally nice the whole time! :)  

Thanks, Karma! :)

I've just been entrusted with my Tante Barbel's early diaries and memories and photos.

My Tante Barbel (Barbara Armgart) was my German mother's older sister. She lived from 1926 to 2008. 
I knew her only as being a kindly aunt, whom I got to visit when I was 4 and 12 and 18. She had a modern house in Braunschweig, Germany, with a beautiful backyard, in which I played federball (badminton). I knew that she was the first female dentist in her German town of Braunschweig, in the early 1960s. 

Here's a very brief excerpt from her diary (12 January 1946), when she was 20 years old:
I don't even know his name. I don't want to know his name. I just want to dance with him!!

And an excerpt from 14 January 1946:
My family is of the opinion I was reckless yesterday, and as a result no one speaks to me. And what did I do? I spent an afternoon and an evening dancing. Am I not a grown-up, so why the theatrics? It's not my fault that Mutti can't get over her ridiculous fears. I am not going to beg forgiveness. I can be just as silent as you all, perhaps even better! Have you never been young?!? Nothing but dancing for 6 hours. With Rudi Rummel, Guenter Lieberodt, Maenne Metz, Heinz Schulze, Mr. Klimke, Mr. Behne, and many others. Mr. Behne invited us all to have supper at his farm, and we stayed there until 9:30 pm. That was all, and that's why they are mad at me!

------------------------------------------------------------

I think I just became aware of what I need to document, first and foremost, for the rest of my life. The notebook I received is massive, with multiple pages of text and photos. From a seemingly mild-mannered woman, who, as it turned out, led a quite-interesting internal life! My own mother took the time to translate her diaries and many other documents related to her older sister.

p.s. The innocence of "we stayed there until 9:30 pm" breaks my heart. (And the local mogul is also a bit tender for inviting folks after-hours to have "supper at his farm." I don't think that particular line has ever been used before.)

WHODUNNIT??!!

In the summer of 1976, my family moved from a house in a North Texas suburb outside of Wichita Falls to a house way out in the country (school district at a small town west of Fort Worth).

While living in city areas, my parents seemed able to maintain some surface decorum. Once out in the boonies, though, it was chaos:
We had to burn our own trash out in the country, but "we" started a fire and had to call local fire-fighters.
We decided to buy a horse for me to ride, but once she took off while I was on her, and I refused to ride her again, we sold her off. "Blitz" was her name.
We put our two long-time pet dachshunds in a side-pen, apart from our backyard, so there was very little contact with them after this.

There were 4 neighbor families on our new-found street. Most of us kids participated in softball games, relay races, etc. (My mom and dad never hung out for the games, though the other parents did.)

All of the above to remember this one awful thing that has stuck with me forever, even at age 60. About how much neither of my parents liked me---

One summer evening during a softball game at the next-door neighbor's house: A shout from next door: "STEPHANIE, GET IN HERE!!!!" How fast I left the middle of the game to RUN home----and how I was humiliated in front of everyone. 

When I arrived inside my house, my mother and father presented me with food scattered below the dining-room table. Whatever we'd had for dinner that evening, someone didn't like it, and had thrown bits of it below the table. Problem was: It wasn't ME who'd thrown the food down there. It was my younger brother. When I pointed out what side of the table all the rejected food appeared on, my parents seemed briefly sheepish---"Oh..."  They'd been SUPER-willing to overtly punish ME for something/anything. What to do now, since they'd made a public scene and now didn't have ME to punish? Their solution: "OK...well, um, tell your brother to come in here." Never would they have screamed at my brother to "get in here" in front of the neighbors. 

This is the every-day psychosis I grew up with. Before my father actually tried to shoot my mother in 1977. (Only because we now lived out in the country. He would not have dared do such a thing earlier while we lived in small towns or college towns.)

RE the original story, pre-shooting: Why in the world is any family dinner so traumatic that anyone, much less a 6-year-old, has to throw food on the floor rather than just being able to say he doesn't want to eat it? (Not to mention why a surrogate---ME---was blamed, because someone had to be blamed.)

"Come on movie, make it start!" (Portlandia)