Joy Division: Transmission

Joy Division: She's Lost Control

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 via an epileptic fit?

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)

 

Feelin' Stupid

When I was a freshman at 18, living at Jester Center in Austin:
I thought that people hung out on the steps outside the building just to be hanging out. One day, feelin' lonely, I went out there and took my place on the steps... Once the student shuttle bus arrived, everyone left, and I was left sitting there by myself like a dork!  

(Years later, when I lived in New York City: I saw that people did, indeed, hang out in outdoor spaces! Union Square, for one. I wasn't crazy, after all!)

Before I lived in NYC, was just visiting:
I sat atop a Tourist Bus. A man in a park that we passed seemed to be waving... I, the dork, waved back. (Turned out he was doing Tai Chi, not "saying Hi". Whoops.)

Garth Brooks in Ireland (1998): Friends in Low Places

Blame it all on my roots
I showed up in boots
And ruined your black-tie affair
The last one to know
The last one to show
I was the last one you thought you'd see there

And I saw the surprise
And the fear in his eyes
When I took his glass of champagne
And I toasted you
Said, "Honey, we may be through,
But you'll never hear me complain."

'Cause I've got friends in low places
Where the whiskey drowns
And the beer chases
My blues away
And I'll be okay
I'm not big on social graces
Think I'll slip on down to the Oasis
Oh, I've got friends in low places

Well, I guess I was wrong
I just don't belong
But then I've been there before
Everything's all right
I'll just say goodnight
And I'll show myself to the door

Hey, I didn't mean
To cause a big scene
Just give me an hour and then
Well, I'll be as high
As that ivory tower
That you're livin' in

'Cause I've got friends in low places
Where the whiskey drowns
And the beer chases
My blues away
And I'll be okay
I'm not big on social graces
Think I'll slip on down to the Oasis
Oh, I've got friends in low places...

Garth Brooks: The Dance (1990)

I hadn't heard this song for at least 30 years. 
A local country radio station played it today as I was driving around.

"How could I have known that you'd ever say goodbye..."

The voice of Garth was never profound, but, nonetheless, hearing this song on the radio made me cry!

It also flashed me back to when I was in grad school in San Francisco in the mid-90s---
after years of keeping up with mid-90s rock and rap, I was finally sick of it.
I think a mediocre Courtney Love album and a Warren G album were the final dull straws.
At the time, there was the "BMG Club," where you could order 12 CDs for a dollar, and then only have to buy 2 full-price CDs in the next year.
I ordered a bunch of Country CDs for the first time: Tammy Wynette Greatest, Johnny Cash, Garth Brooks, Waylon, Willie.
The Tammy CD, which had duets with George Jones, led me to buying George Jones for the first time. He's since become my favorite male singer.

The Garth Brooks CD was "The Hits," released in December 1994. Nearly everything on this is very good. (The most famous/greatest song being "Friends in Low Places." But here's "The Dance.")

I never went on to be a Garth Brooks fan. (From the Hits, I could tell that he wasn't going to get any more "soulful" or anything on any individual album! But this is a great "party" and/or "'90s memories album.")

Looking back on the memory of
The dance we shared 'neath the stars above
For a moment all the world was right
How could I have known that you'd ever say goodbye

And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end, the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance

Holding you I held everything
For a moment wasn't I a king
But if I'd only known how the king would fall
Hey who's to say you know I might have changed it all

And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance

"I Wanna Be Sedated": Go-Gos in Central Park, 2001

 

"I Wanna Be Sedated": Return of Jackie/Judy in LA (July 2026)

 Thanks, Carrie and Fred. Nice of you to allow Corinne to participate...
And then there's your random DEI hire...
This song can't really go wrong, regardless of who does it.
Though the Go-Gos, above, do actually do it much better.