Paul McCartney & Wings: Mull of Kintyre (1977)

6/16/22: Paul McCartney in East Rutherford, NJ (age 80)

The Beatles: She Loves You: "The Mersey Sound" (1963)

Paul McCartney: Maybe I'm Amazed (1970)

Paul McCartney: I've Got a Feeling (feat. John Lennon) (Glastonbury 2022)

The Beatles: I've Got A Feeling (Take 1) | Rooftop Concert (1969)

The Beatles: "Let It Be" Filming Outtakes (1969)

Crummy August

My birthday's in August, and normally I feel good and strong in this month. This month, though, was crappy. No particular reason for it, I just felt bad and lethargic the whole month. (No, I will not claim "long Covid," because both "Covid" and "long Covid" are bullshit.) Just wanted to make a note of it, though, since usually "my" month has been a good one. Not so this year. (In general, I don't like May thru August in Texas, because the months are all extremely hot and sluggish, above 100 degrees---the fever doesn't usually break until mid-September. This year, though, temps did constantly dip below 100 a couple of weeks ago, and have been so ever since. So it's not the weather's fault...)

Cleaning up some stuff!

For the past few months, there's been a lot of messiness that I haven't taken care of around my apartment, which led to a general feeling of crappiness.

For one thing, whenever I'd listen to a CD, I'd then leave it lying around instead of putting it back in its case and returning to the rack.

Books, same thing: If I started reading something but then moved on to something else, I'd just leave a stack of old books sitting around.

Cat-wise: I haven't always picked up the cat hair-balls that they spewed forth. (Half the time, if I heard the spewing, I would, but then sometimes I'd come upon them after the fact, and didn't feel like messing with them.) I also have been neglecting their constant shedding.

RE the various types of glues and other accoutrements that I've ordered for my various types of candle/crystal projects---they've been sitting around on counters instead of being stored away properly.

This Sunday, though: Went to grocery store and got groceries for the first time in a month. Slept afterwards because I was so "drained" by the "effort" (!). But when I woke up: Whew! I sprang into action! Got all the months-long shit cleared up and organized! Including draining a bathroom sink!

Never trust anyone under 40.

Back in the late '60s, the trendy slogan was "Never trust anyone over 30." 

But today I say: "Never trust anyone under 40." 

Never trust anyone who grew up in the Internet Age.
Never trust anyone who garners their opinions from what their made-up "friends" on Facebook or Twitter say.
Never trust anyone who has only had "relationships" via the Internet.
Never trust anyone who can't walk 20 feet to take their trash out without looking at their phone the whole time.
Never trust anyone who's never read a book.
Never trust anyone who grew up with the "social-emotional learning" teaching system instead of actual learning.
Never trust anyone who can't pronounce the letter "t" or other consonants. Example: "Mah-ha-un" for "Manhattan." Or "buh-un" for "button."
Never trust anyone who doesn't know that "an" instead of "a" comes before a word beginning with a vowel.

Haven't Bought Groceries Since July

The last time I bought groceries was on July 31. It's now August 26. For the past 6 months or so, I was going grocery shopping every 2 weeks, and spending about $180 every time. (Way up from, say, 2 years ago, when I'd spend about $100 every 2 weeks.)

Not going grocery shopping wasn't purely intentional. Part of it was laziness and annoyance with my local market. (The check-out people and baggers are terrible, and I'm tired of either telling them not to put avocadoes on the bottom of the bag or else complaining to their managers about not bagging my ice-creams so they don't leak.)

And I have plenty of money for groceries, and I've had plenty of opportunities to go grocery shopping at all times of the day, all days of the week. I just haven't FELT LIKE IT. (Bartleby: I prefer not to.)

And so, in the month of August, I have thus far spent ZERO on groceries. Luckily, I had a LOT left over from late July: My milk and OJ were/are still good (expiration dates of about August 8, but nothing has actually gone bad). I had cereal (until last week, when I ran out and then had to go to the oatmeal); I had spaghetti (and sauce) and rice; I had Ranch Style beans and black beans; I had tortillas; I had a big bag o' fish-sticks and a big bag o' frozen fries; I had a block of cheddar cheese and potatoes for baking; I had plenty of condiments.

I didn't have favorite stuff like avocados and salsa, or salmon, or hamburger meat, or hummus, or pot-stickers, which all ran out after week 2 of my last shopping excursion.

My Cokes did run out, but I bought 2-liter bottles from the local corner store, which was ultimately cheaper than buying 20-packs of 12-oz cans.

In Cat News: I normally buy the cheapest canned tuna (72 cents a can) to feed them alongside their daily dry food. I did run out of that, so had to go to a nearby drugstore to buy some 3X more expensive "people tuna" since they didn't have cheap tuna (Starkist, $2 a can). The cats don't like it.

Overall, I did save myself a ton of money by eating up all the leftovers in my fridge/pantry instead of buying new stuff. (I'm at this moment down to basically spaghetti and rice and Saltines and some cheddar cheese and one Ramen and some old Romaine lettuce.)

But... I'm going grocery-shopping this Sunday! And I will SPLURGE! :)

The Doors: Break On Through

Peoples Temple Choir (1973): Down from His Glory (sung by Jim Jones)

See earlier post: If I had to listen to one of these two sing...
OK, then, obviously, Jim Morrison. (The actually good musicians/singers on this album had to put this stilted Jim Jones track on there just to be respectful to their leader; the rest of the album is actually good.)

But if I had to sit down with one of these two... Jones, born only 12 years earlier than Morrison ('31 vs. '43), would at least know how to have an actual intelligent, linear conversation despite whatever pharmaceuticals he was on. (Funny re charisma: Rock stars have more than anyone but are so passive and personally challenged that they are incapable of inspiring any public action---unless it's their 50-year campaign for legal marijuana use. For which most people still have to lie and say it's for "medical" purposes.)

 

p.s. RE Morrison or Jim Jones: I'd pick Paul McCartney: Attractive, brilliant, down-to-earth, mildly weird but non-neurotic/psychotic...

"She Came In Through The Bathroom Window" (1969 "Let It Be" rehearsals)

Who's Hotter?

I suppose it depends on the context. If I didn't know anything about either of these two men: If I were 15 thru 18, I'd pick Jim Morrison. If I were a hard 30 or older, I'd pick Jim Jones.

 

Peoples Temple Choir (1973): Welcome

Peoples Temple Choir (1973): He's Able

This Week's Reading

5:46pm

I was snoozing on my couch, and jerked awake to a voice calling "Steph!" at 5:46pm.

My mother is 81 years old. I'm not currently speaking to her, but I'm guessing she'll die any day, as 80-somethings are wont to do. Just wanted to put this on record in case tomorrow my shitty brother calls me to say our mother passed away yesterday at 5:46.

Racism

A woman in a neighborhood with houses both owned and rented walks to the public dumpster catty-cornered from her house, at the street-corner of a playground, carrying an old cardboard beer box with old phone books and other recyclable detritus in it.

As she's crossing the street to the dumpster, another woman literally RUNS up to her: 

Woman 2: "Where are you going with that?" 

Woman 1: "To this dumpster." 

Woman 2: Gesturing to beer logos on outside of Woman 1's box: "You're bringing that around our children? No! NO!"

Woman 1: Pointing to the shallow contents of box and wondering what children were involved: "It's phone books. I'm just throwing them out."

Woman 2: "I don't care what they are! You don't bring that around our children!"

Woman 1: Goes ahead and tosses box in dumpster, then walks in opposite direction of own home, for fear the upset racist will learn where she lives.

I lived in this mixed-race neighborhood in Austin for about 6 years, before I moved to NYC in 2007. During this time, the above happened. Also during this time: I got accosted by a black homeless guy at a neighborhood bus stop (the bus arriving just in time to rescue me); I had black gangstas on a bus telling me I didn't belong on that bus (thank you!) when I yelled at them to shut up with their loud-ass stories about who they'd f***ed that weekend (the driver had to stop the bus because they got so agitated with me); I had a black guy jump out of his car and reach in to my car window just because I'd honked at him while he was going 10 mph in a 30-mile zone; I had a black woman at a fast-food drive-thru jump out of her car and try to reach in to my car window just because I'd honked at her for not pulling up after several minutes. Oh yeah: There was also the black guy jacking off in daylight hours on the park bench in the playground catty-cornered from my house that I had to report to the police.

I was generally happy when I lived in this neighborhood, but the above black encounters were ridiculous. No normal people act like that.

p.s. And the above was all in Austin, a famously laid back, live-and-let-live town. Just imagine the sh** that goes on in Berkeley or Chicago!

Bay City Rollers: Inside A Broken Dream (1977)

Turn the pages of a broken dream
Smiling faces, have they ever seen
Empty hallways, will they ever end?
The fool again

Masquerading in a hyper dream
Fading shadows talk of their machine
Through the haze another cigarette
So much to say and to forget

Inside a broken dream I cry
Is love the reason why?
Inside an empty room I stare
At love that is not there

Life begins with your head in the dark
The chord of life reveals the final spark

Takes you nowhere then nowhere takes you back again 

 

 

Written by Eric Faulkner.
(I turned these lyrics in to my 8th-grade teacher as an example of my favorite "poem.")

Eric Faulkner: The Frontline (2015)

Eric Faulkner of the Bay City Rollers at "String Theory," Hawick (2015).
Being from the US, I don't know what either "String Theory" or "Hawick" are.
And I also cringe at the knee-jerk labor/leftist philosophy borrowed from the 1930s.
That said: Eric was my favorite Bay City Roller. Back then I liked his eyes and his lyrics. Glad that he went on to perform post-Rollers.

George Jones: Four-O-Thirty-Three (1966)

Stopping Point in My Life

Now that I'm in my 50s, there's nothing else left for me to do other than try to---what's the word?---ameliorate the rest of my years on this earth. At this point, I'm obviously not going to advance much in life. I've reached a respectable point in my editing career that I can only hope to coast on for the next 10 years until I retire. (Not a given, mind you, since I don't work for the government---I can be let go at any time.)

I won't ever have a house. But, as I discovered a couple of years ago when I tried to buy one for the first time: The monthly mortgage would be more than my monthly rent. And when a fridge or a dishwasher or a heating system broke, as they have during my past few years at my apartment complex, I'd have to pay for that, and arrange for maintenance guys, if I owned my own home.

In my 50s, I'm too old for that now. The time for buying a house is in your 30s, with a partner, with hopes and dreams for the future. When you're a 50-something woman on her own, though, you don't "dream" about what all you can be fixing up for the next 20 years. Rather, you just want a place with maintenance provided.

So...No more dreams of a house. I can, though, dream of a rent-controlled senior condo! One that allows me to smoke (ha! not likely nowadays), and one that prevents kids from visiting for more than 2 weeks per year (no one without grandkids wants any obnoxious grandkids around).

I'm kind of stuck right now, and don't see anything else in my future other than the above. I've come to terms with the above, but it would still be nice if something else turned up!

Klimt "Freundinnen"

I've got a 4 x 4 ft Klimt hanging in my bathroom and was trying to order crystals for a shelf to match both the color and the vibe of the painting. The green fluorite looks fine, but the sunstone---rather than looking like an inspiring "sunstone" per its name---looks like chunks of raw meat!

Gonna have to let this all marinade for a few days and then make a decision as to where to put that sunstone! (Originally was looking for citrine, but that's way more expensive!)

 

Dinner Party

An oft-asked rhetorical question: What historical figures would you invite to a dinner party? Assuming that some sparkling conversation would ensue.

Here's who I'd like to see around a table, talking it out amongst themselves (me not there but definitely listening in):

Jesus
Jim Jones
Charles Manson
John Lennon

(Absolutely no "scholars" at the table because all of their info is gained from books. Not having experienced anything, they thus don't KNOW anything.)

I think the fey political poseur John Lennon would flee the table after about 15 minutes, because his "world views" were garnered only circa 1972 from his elitist (banker-daughter) left-wing-radical wife that he was so desperate to please---I don't think he quite thought anything through. His received ideas wouldn't stand up for more than 15 minutes, despite Charlie's admiration.

The other three, though, were actually original, strong male thinkers... Probably pretty interesting to listen to their compared notes re "socialism."

And I guess go ahead and add Hitler in there. What would Hitler, Manson, and Jones have to say to Jesus? Probably, "How did you manage to last for 2000 years, man?"

And also the mental state of each man: Jones, Jesus, and Hitler---all suicidal. (Jones a suicide with only a minor fight, Jesus a suicidal martyr, Hitler a suicide after a constant fight. Manson = self-preservation above all!) Discuss THAT, boys!

Charles Manson: Look at Your Game Girl (1967)

Charlie Knows the Story (1993 interview with Diane Sawyer)

One philosophy of Manson's that I agree with completely:
You are responsible for your own actions.
(That concept was especially important in his own case, of course.)

One interesting thing that I noticed at the end of the interview, as the cameras were being put away and mikes taken off: Manson dropping his bravado-mask and quietly asking Sawyer where in Kentucky she was from (they both grew up there).

Crystals for Beginners

Who starts out with OBSIDIAN?! :)  It now looks pretty on a red dish near my fireplace, but it surely AIN'T yet helpful psychically. (In fact, when this was the only stone in my house and I had the full pound of it sitting right next to where I slept, it was much more agitating than "protection from dark energy" and "aura cleansing.")

Below are the stones that I've ordered---top to bottom from first to most recent: obsidian (raw), labradorite (tumbled), quartz crystal (raw), sodalite (tumbled), green fluorite (raw), citrine (raw).

What I like best so far are my labradorite and my sodalite (does this mean I can only psychically handle tumbled and not raw stones?!). And of these two, I feel the most attracted to the labradorite. Looking at these stones reminds me of my cats; and, according to "Crystals for Beginners," labradorite helps with:

Bringing out magical qualities, reducing negativity, tempering negative aspects of the personality, detoxification of addictive substances, tempering impulsivity and recklessness, connection to higher realms, aiding in intuition, dispelling illusion.

Jim Jones: At Least One Bet a Day

 "A man's gotta make at least one bet a day, else he could be walking around lucky and never know it."
--Jim Jones

Ha! Company that turned me down in 2020...

 ... has now listed the same position for the 6th time on Internet job sites!

I've probably written this here before, but... here's why I hate them:

(1) I interviewed with them in late 2019, but after that, they didn't get back to me until early 2020.
(2) For the second interview, their stupid secretary got the time wrong. So when I arrived, the obnoxious Indian guy boss INCORRECTLY chewed me out for being late.
(3) The white wife of the Indian boss asked me if I smoked, and when I said I did, said that, funny, I didn't smell.
(4) This whole group---the boss, the wife, and about 4 or 5 secretaries---were all stuck in one tiny room, with a spare conference room.
(5) The place was only about 10 miles from my home---but it took me over an hour each way to get to/from this location, thanks to Austin's disgusting traffic.
(6) After I provided writing/editing samples, and when the wife was about to condescend to hire me, she called my old boss (why I quit the old job---utterly incompetent boss), who told her that she would not hire me again (my old job was a State job, and it's actually illegal to say this---especially since all of my annual reviews were very good; so I had to contact HR and State reps, etc.). The potential new boss expressed her doubts about me, and I, being desperate for work, scrambled like mad to get other GOOD references to contact her so she'd like me... After a few days, she condescended to offer me the job, with a 3-month trial period... But at that point, I'd been offered another job---that paid about $10K more per year than both the old job and this crummy potential new job.

I'm still at the same great new job that I was offered, while these losers are still scrambling around---for the 6th time!!---for someone desperate enough to join their horrible one-room group.

Jim Jones Final Mass Suicide Speech at Guyana (11/18/78)

Why can't he thay hith etheth.

The Marxist "revolutionary suicide" proponent Jim Jones is now utterly drug-addled, incapable of speaking properly. Congressman Leo Ryan and entourage (with 16 defectors out of 1000) have now left Jonestown and been shot, and Jones now addresses his flock in the aftermath.

Christine Miller is the one bold member questioning the need to die. (The group had discussed in the past the possibility of going to the Soviet Union if hounded from Guyana.) The other Temple members mock her.

(After her public questioning, Miller was injected with cyanide against her will.)

Elvis Presley: Hound Dog (Milton Berle Show, 6/5/56)

Elvis Presley: Wearin' That Loved-on Look (1969)

One of These Days (Tammy Wynette, 1976)

One of These Days (George Jones, 1972)

Wanna-be Divas

A very fit young woman and her very fit male companion (they both wore athletic gear proclaiming their fitness) were at the Post Office counter right in front of me today. I think they were trying to send out wedding invitations, but the postage price wasn't to their liking. They stood there for an awful long time arguing with the clerk, who tried to explain prices to them. (I was too far away to actually understand what the problem was, though I wished they'd hurry the fuck up.)

As the young woman got more and more agitated, her hunky mate soothingly patted her back, and at one point took over "negotiations" with the postal clerk.

This reminded me of other encounters re a "diva" and her "male companion," all back in the '90s:
(1) A guy and girl at a relatively cheap restaurant, but the guy elaborately doing everything for her, including even opening the menu! (After he ordered for her, I didn't see them speak.)
(2) A guy and girl at a bowling alley (part of an adjunct to my group of friends). The girl clearly wasn't comfortable in a bowling alley, and the guy spent his entire time literally kneeling at her feet, making sure she was "OK." (The girl---not attractive, but obviously with attitude---spent the whole time "posing," not making any attempt to bowl or interact with anyone else.)
(3) A close friend invited me to her husband's bar/restaurant so we could hang out and eat/drink. At one point, my friend started complaining to her husband about how one waitress had "dissed" her. (I was with them the whole time---the waitress didn't dis my friend.)

Is the above what being in a "close relationship" means? Going along with bullshit?

I'll go ahead and add a very personal detail: My brother's house usually looks like something near the "Hoarders" TV show. His car, last time I was in it a few years ago, was equally trashed. I grew up with the guy, and I saw his first few apartments once he moved to Austin to go to college: He was always neat, even as an 18-to-20-year-old kid. His house now is far from "neat." At one point, my brother, wife, and two sons went on vacation, and my elderly mother took it upon herself to clean up the bedroom of her grandsons---within weeks upon the family's return, it quickly reverted to its previous trashed level.

Also: My brother, once a good-looking, fit young man, is now a 275-lb fat slob. How does that happen? Trying to agree with his school-teacher "Social/Emotional Learning" + "You're RACIST!" racist wife?

Willie Nelson - Whiskey River (1973)

Willie Nelson - Shotgun Willie (1973)

Dissing: Globally Understood Problem

Whether you're a Karen in a supermarket, or a hard-core prisoner, when someone is disrespectful to you, you get mad---hopefully in proportion to your environment.

I'm a middle-class, middle-aged white woman. My problems aren't life or death. However, I have an environment that I operate in, and it pisses me off when jerks don't act right, and I have a right to say something about it. (I'm not claiming it's "serious" in the Grand Scheme of Things---but I AM claiming this is a recent problem among young people working at supermarkets that their managers need to get control of.)

Today at the grocery store, I was in line putting my stuff on the conveyor belt. My checkout girl, Kaylee, was busy chastising the bag boy for allegedly not liking to read and not keeping up with politics. (Seriously. This was their conversation.) I "dared" to interrupt Kaylee's conversation by asking if she could please put a plastic bag around the 2 ice creams that I'd bought. (Ice creams leak in the 100-degree Texas heat.)

Every time I come to this supermarket, every 2 weeks for the past 5 years, I ask the same thing: Please put a plastic bag around the ice cream. And every time until now, the clerk says, "Sure."

This time, though, Kaylee tells me, "Yeah, if you want to BUY a bag."

The store does charge for grocery bags if you didn't bring your own. But I brought all 5 of my own. I just wanted a small plastic bag to keep the ice creams from leaking.

ME: No, I don't want to BUY a bag. I just want a plastic bag around the ice creams to keep them from leaking.

KAYLEE (sarcastically to bag boy): She doesn't want to buy a separate bag.

After this, I don't pay particular attention, except to make sure my coupons are entered. I thank obnoxious Kaylee and bag boy, then leave the store. When I get to my car and start to load stuff into my trunk, I stop for a sec to check on the ice cream---no, there's no plastic bag around them.

I had to go back in the store, and go back to Kaylee's checkout #4 and make a minor scene: "I just got out to my car, and you didn't give me the plastic bag for my ice cream! Next time I ask you for a plastic bag, give me a plastic bag!" She gave me a goddamn plastic bag at this point. And then I went to complain to a manager. (As I'd thought: Yes, if you don't bring grocery bags, you get charged for them. But you DON'T get charged for bags around ice cream or meat.)

Again, it's not a major LIFE problem. However... it IS an indication of lack of quality control at this particular store, and perhaps in general: Who is this chick at checkout to make an issue if I simply ask for a plastic bag around my ice cream? GEEZ. I'm not living in a fucking Third World country just yet---though the downslide is on the way: where basic tasks are sneered at by Woke dummies making Covid-inflated hourly rates. In this case, I'll not shoot someone but, rather, just report the dis to "the manager," as we Karens have been conditioned to do.