Friday, October 30, 2026

Making Friends? (Parts I and II)

Making Friends: Part I

Now that the weather is a lot more clement (i.e., in the 80s during the day and 70s/60s at night) in Austin, I'm now leaving my windows open to get some fresh air in.

Doing so sometimes leads to some animal interactions (!), since my apartment is on the ground floor, inches away from a sidewalk where people walk their dogs, etc. Sometimes one of my cats sitting in the window leads to a big brouhaha when the dog walking by outside sniffs them, etc. Usually I yell at my cat, and the outside dog-owner yells at their dog, and all is well.

A couple of weeks ago, a strange cat jumped up on the outside window-sill and sat looking at all of us inside my apartment. I thought it was charming; this is, after all, how I was first introduced to my newest cat, Cinqo, back in 2019: A half-grown female kitten alternating between sitting on the front window-sill and then going around to my back sliding-glass door. My four young indoor cats at that time (Mama and 3 kittens) would just stare at her, sans any negative reaction. When I finally let Cinqo into my home (on a cold, rainy December night, when she was huddled underneath a scraggly bush for shelter from the elements), my other cats didn't think anything of it. She was probably too little and pitiful to have any negative reaction to! Cinqo was soon a member of the indoor home. (She got along great with all of the others, and ate and peed with the others, though she did not allow ME to touch her for nearly a year!)

But when this latest strange cat was sitting there on the sill: I personally thought it was "charming." And four of my five cats were, at first, asleep and didn't notice. But my one lady-like cat, Sasha, was awake, and went over to the window to sniff at the stranger. She just sniffed, then backed away, sans any aggression. And the stranger-cat continued to lie there and look at all of us. 

But after about 20 minutes, my two original ferals---Mama Hennessy and Cinqo---finally woke up, and noticed the cat on the sill. And both immediately rushed the screen, hissing and attacking the screen and the strange cat behind it. Yikes! (Like I said, Cinqo had originally shown up years ago by sitting on the sill, but no cat inside my home ever reacted to her that way. And I'd never seen the grown-up Cinqo hiss before. But here she was, acting very mad! I guessed that the new cat on the sill was a male. Girls Mama Hennessy and Cinqo, who had grown up outdoors and feral, perceived a threat, but the 3 kittens born to Mama Hennessy---Pete, Mini, and Sasha---had no street-smarts. Sasha just sniffed and looked on, while Pete and Mini immediately ran away and hid from the window fight.)

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

Making Friends: Part II

After the loud cat-screen-battle, the neighbor-owner of the window-sill cat came and gently knocked on my door. She apologized for her cat's behavior, but I told her that I had been enjoying seeing her cat lie on the sill; he was just being curious about what was going on inside this apartment that obviously smelled like other cats to him! :)  Her cat had been doing nothing wrong; and a couple of my cats were acting like wildebeests. All was good.

So the 60-something neighbor and I chatted at the door for a few minutes. Sharing stories about how we got our cats, and things like that. And then she---a bit too soon, I thought, given that we'd just met---brought up that she was having an operation soon and could I please feed her cats for her. Well, sure. She lives about 20 steps away from me! Of course, I can. 

(One thing on my mind during this conversation was that I had recently wanted to take a trip to NYC, but did not, partly because I had no one to take care of my cats if I were gone for more than 2 days. My 80-something mother had volunteered to do so, and there are pet-sitter services online, but... I didn't want my elderly mother driving across town, and I didn't trust the online services. So I felt for this neighbor whom I did not know, but who had a problem that I could easily solve.)

After our brief chat, we said good evening. And it was a couple of weeks before I saw her again. I was in the laundry room on this Friday afternoon, and she was standing outside the laundry door peering in at me: "Stephanie? Stephanie?"

"Hi! Do you need to get in?" [I gave her the combo-code that all residents have.]

She came in, at 3pm, wearing corduroy house-slippers and some heavy-duty layered outfit, then proceeded to strip off her outer sweater. Then started telling me all about the sleeping habits of her two cats: Major and Tinkerbell. ("Major" was the cat who'd been sitting on my window-sill earlier.) I assumed that she was telling me about her cats' sleeping habits because of our previous conversation about my feeding them while she was having her operation in the future. 

So I asked her: "When exactly is your operation?"
Her: "What?"
Me: "When is your operation?"
Her: "How do you know about that?"
Me: "Because you told me about it! You asked me to feed your cats while you were in the hospital."
Her: "I don't remember that."
Me: "Then why were you just telling me about your cats?"
Her: [Looking confused.]

She stood there during my laundry transfer from washer to dryer. We made further small-talk.

About an hour later, when laundry was done and I was on my way to the post-office: She came running out of her apartment as I walked by: "Stephanie, Stephanie! Here's my phone number!"

I HAD to get to the post office on time, and it was raining, and I yelled back: "I've got to be somewhere. Can't stop now."

When I got back, there was a business card on my door with her phone number: She cleans aquariums. She's also an interior decorator.

When I was walking out to my car, and she came running out to me, I was reminded, horribly, of a roommate that I'd had when I moved to NYC back in 2007. I could not leave my room to go to the bathroom without this woman calling out: "Are you up? Are you up?" 

I want to help out with this woman's cats while she's in the hospital, but I do NOT want to be friends with a nutcase.

Friday, October 23, 2026

It's Only Love (Lennon / Beatles 1965)

 



One of my first favorite Beatles songs. By John.


Heart on Midnight Special: Barracuda (1977)

 



Heart on Midnight Special: Crazy on You (1977)

I never felt any connection to Heart, but my first love Ginny loved them.
When Ginny and I knew each other in the Spring and Summer of 1983,
she did not make me listen to Heart, but I did---obnoxiously---make HER
listen to the 1972 John Lennon/Yoko Ono album ("Some Time in NYC")  I'd just found.

In 2026, I think Heart stands up much better than anything from the 1972 John/Yoko album.

Ginny died in 1988, but if she were here today, I'd apologize profusely. 
Musically and otherwise. I was a very stupid kid.



Paul McCartney (1975): I Feel Like Letting Go


Saturday, October 17, 2026

Joan Crawford: Young and Beautiful (sung by Lana del Rey, 2013)

 



I've seen the world, done it all
Had my cake now
Diamonds, brilliant, and Bel Air now
Hot summer nights, mid-July
When you and I were forever wild
The crazy days, city lights
The way you'd play with me like a child

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?
Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?
I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will
Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

I've seen the world, lit it up as my stage now
Channeling angels in the new age now
Hot summer days, rock and roll
The way you'd play for me at your show
And all the ways I got to know
Your pretty face and electric soul

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?
Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?
I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will
Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

Dear Lord, when I get to heaven
Please, let me bring my man
When he comes, tell me that You'll let him in
Father, tell me if You can
All that grace, all that body
All that face makes me wanna party
He's my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?
Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?
I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will
Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?
Will you still love me when I'm not young and beautiful?

Ted Nugent: Cat Scratch Fever (1979)

 



Saturday, October 10, 2026

I used to be annoyed by Ted Nugent in the '70s...

 But OK, if you want to come to a street-corner of Austin in 2025 and do all this... Congrats, Man.



Marco Rubio on Defending Western Civilization



John Lennon: Gimme Some Truth (1972)

While John Lennon was a radical leftist during this brief period from 1972 to 1973 when he wrote this, I relate the below to what I personally felt during the years after 2016, when Communist politicians (and their online cohorts) in the US were telling me I was "racist" because I was white, and forcing me to get a vaccine. And calling Trump "evil" just because he wanted to restrict the border invasion.

Lennon wrote this on behalf of his Commie friends in 1972, but I also relate it to what I felt in 2016, right up until today in 2026, when it comes to Communist politicians lying about the massive illegal immigration influx and lying about the DEI inability to run any type of government, even on the local level. 

Side note: I initially first heard this 1972 song back in 1982, when I was an angry teenager and had just discovered both the Beatles and Lennon's solo albums. I didn't realize until much later how second-hand the politics of the 1972 "Some Time in NYC" album was.

A p.s. re "Tricky Dicky" (whom John Lennon knew nothing about, other than what his new Communist wife and friends told him): I was 9 years old and remember watching Nixon's resignation on television. A couple of years later, still a school-kid at age 11, I wrote him a letter expressing my sorrow for what he had been through. 

Today, at age 61: Watergate? Ha! A minor scandal. Nixon had been a target of the leftist media since the 1950s, as Eisenhower's VP. Nixon was awkward, a geek. Definitely nowhere near as "cool" as Kennedy (whom Nixon met in the 1960 Presidential debate). 

But look at Kennedy's subsequent major gaffes in his brief time as President: Kennedy screwed up the Bay of Pigs; Kennedy allowed the USSR to build the Berlin Wall. Americans' vote for "the cute guy" led to nearly 30 years of the Cold War.



I'm sick and tired of hearing things
From uptight, short-sighted, narrow-minded hypocritics
All I want is the truth
Just give me some truth

I've had enough of reading things
By neurotic, psychotic, pig-headed politicians
All I want is the truth
Just give me some truth

No short-haired, yellow-bellied son of Tricky Dicky
Is going to Mother Hubbard soft soap me
With just a pocketful of hope
Money for dope
Money for rope
Ooh oh

No short-haired, yellow-bellied son of Tricky Dicky
Is going to Mother Hubbard soft soap me
With just a pocketful of soap
Money for dope
Money for rope

I'm sick to death of seeing things
From tight-lipped, condescending, mama's little chauvinists
All I want is the truth
Just give me some truth, now

I've had enough of watching scenes
With schizophrenic, egocentric, paranoiac, prima donnas
All I want is the truth, now-now
Just give me some truth

No short-haired, yellow-bellied son of Tricky Dicky
Is going to Mother Hubbard soft soap me
With just a pocketful of soap
Money for dope
Money for rope

Ah, I'm sick to death of hearing things
From uptight, short-sighted, narrow-minded hypocrites
All I want is the truth, now
Just give me some truth now

I've had enough of reading things
By neurotic, psychotic, pig-headed politicians
All I want is the truth, now
Just give me some truth, now

All I want is the truth, now
Just give me some truth, now
All I want is the truth
Just give me some truth
All I want is the truth
Just give me some truth
All I want is the truth

The Beatles "Help!" (Blackpool Night Out, 1965)



Happy Birthday John Lennon, October 9

The time stamp has switched over to Oct 10, as I write this. 
But I'm remembering John on his October 9 birthday.


Wednesday, October 07, 2026

Hemingway Then and Now

I read most of Hemingway back in high school and college (1980s/1990s). Here's the "Hemingway portion" of my bookshelf up until earlier this month (sandwiched between Dawn Powell and Harry Crosby---I'm interested in that period; but I now think Hemingway deserves a shelf all to himself, as Fitzgerald currently has).




PBS did a 3-part doc on Hem (2021), which I did not see at the time, but just watched last month (in 2026). Which led me to my recent splurge of Hemingway used-book-buying:


I'm currently in the middle of last-wife-Mary's "How It Was." (Which is a mighty, 600-pg tome. She's a true reporter, with lots of WWII info; she doesn't meet Hem until nearly 200 pages in.)

NOT YET READ:
 
The Hadley bio is from 1992, so I'm guessing this will still be relatively not-political. (Though the reviews on Amazon are primarily from book-club members who have just recently read the 2011 novel "The Paris Wife." Same for reviews of "A Moveable Feast"---almost all are from "Paris Wife" readers.)

The Pauline bio is from 2012. (Still not in the realm of the Communist dogma phase that took over American media after 2016.)

Son Gregory bio: From 1976. Cross-dresser Gregory is currently known on Wikipedia as "Gloria." (And heaven forbid you try to correct that site!) I'm curious as to how much of his fetish he reveals in 1976.

Grandson John bio: 2019. Gregory's son. I highly doubt that anything interesting will appear here, unless he reveals creepy things about his father's fetish.

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

After this latest buying binge, I think I'm pretty much all caught up with Hemingway!
Note that I'm not all that interested in Martha Gellhorn and her career.
I thought that I might be---being an independent women, etc.
But: Her writing career wasn't that interesting to me at all, nor were her very brief years with Hemingway. RE the latter: At one point I read that she tried to avoid him in bed. 
OK... But why? Don't make nasty comments if you are not willing to explain yourself.

Friday, October 02, 2026

"RETURN TO SENDER: DECEASED"

I sell various items online, including a "Memento Mori / Memento Vivere" coin. Which translates from Latin as "Remember you must die" / "Remember to live."



Just yesterday, a coin I had sold to a man in Georgia in late August was returned to me with a yellow USPS label on the package: RETURN TO SENDER: DECEASED.

It's almost always men who buy this particular coin, and usually older men (with an older sense of honor, and a sense of their own mortality---one man even wrote to me that he was dying, but that this coin's motto was helping him through his last days). 

I immediately checked my orders to confirm the name and the address of who I had sent it to, and then looked him up on LinkedIn: It was a younger man, aged 34. From his buyer's profile, he was into Star Wars, and gaming, and various gaming paraphernalia. ("Memento Mori" is a "cool" concept in the online gaming world. A concept.) From his LinkedIn profile, he'd attended a local college for one year, then worked at a Dollar General store for 2 years, until 2015. After that, no job info online.

He ordered this coin on August 21. I mailed it out on August 26. 

On the morning of August 26, the house he lived in blew up:
https://hoodline.com/2026/08/rockmart-man-dies-as-explosions-rip-through-home-trapping-him-inside/

Various explosions were reported by neighbors on this morning, prior to 6am, before the house ultimately burned to the ground. (The fire department arrived within 10 mins, according to sources, but were unable to save the structure. They later found the body of one man, whose identity has still not been officially announced. And, as of October 2, I've been unable to find an obituary for this young man.)

Was it a gas leak? Was the house a crack/meth den? Why is there no online obit for him? Since the 8/28 online announcement of the explosion/fire at his exact address, there has been NOTHING to clarify what exactly happened there, or to identify the name of the man who died there. Why the lack of info?

What were this guy's hopes and dreams? In real life, he once worked at a Dollar Store years ago. He then began to gain a false sense of power through his online gaming identity, and perhaps his online purchases of "manly" coins. Well, OK: Many of us try to feel good through our various activities.

But what in the hell BLEW UP HIS WHOLE HOUSE?!

Monday, September 28, 2026

Surprise Surprise (John Lennon, 1974)



Sweet as the smell of success
Her body's warm and wet
She gets me through this God-awful loneliness
A natural high butterfly
Oh I, I need, need, need her

Just like a willow tree
A breath of spring you see
And, oh boy, you don't know what she do to me
She makes me sweat and forget who I am
I need, need, need, need, need her
Well, I was wonderin' how long this could go on, on and on?
Well, I thought, I could never be surprised
But could it be that I bit my own tongue?
Oh yeah, it's so hard to swallow when you're wrong
A bird of paradise
The sunrise in her eyes
God only knows such a sweet surprise
I was blind, she blew my mind
Think that I, I love, love, love, love, love her
I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her...

John Lennon: Going Down on Love (1974)

The first John Lennon solo song I ever heard. 
Age 15, in 1980, upon buying the 1974 "Walls and Bridges" album.


Got to get down, down on my knees
Got to get down, down on my knees
Doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
Going down on love
Going down on love
Going down, going down, going down

When the real thing goes wrong
And you can't get it on
And your love, she has gone
And you got to carry on
And you shoot out the light
Ain't coming home for the night
You know you got to, got to, got to pay the price

Somebody please, please help me
You know I'm drowning in the sea of hatred

I got to get down, down on my knees
I got to get down, down on my knees
Doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
Going down on love
Going down on love
Going down, going down, going down

Something precious and rare
Disappears in thin air
And it seems so unfair
Nothing doing nowhere
Well, you burn all your boats
And you sow your wild oats
Well, you know, you know, you know the price is right

Got to get down, down on my knees
Got to get down, down on my knees
Got to get down, down on my knees
Got to get down, down on my knees

Eyes Wide Shut (Kubrick's last film, 1999)

Up until a couple of weeks ago, I could have SWORN that I saw "Eyes Wide Shut" at the theater when it first came out back in 1999. 

Because: Back then, I used to see movies at the theater every week, because I like that sort of psycho-sexual theme, because it was Kubrick and his last film before he died. And because I had a memory of having seen it, and of being bored by Cruise and Kidman trying way too hard to act sexually decadent!

So when the film came on TCM recently, I was doing something else, but then tuned in about an hour into it. And I did not remember a friggin' thing about any of what I then was seeing! This time, I came in right when the Cruise character first went home with the hooker, then his wife calls, then he leaves the hooker out of guilt but still doesn't want to go home, so he goes to see his old friend play in a jazz club, then cadges the password to an exclusive decadent sex gathering and gets in way over his head...

I was watching in awe at what might be going to happen next!

And... If I HAD seen this movie in the theater, then why in the world would I not remember what actually happened?! It has nothing to do with "famous-couple" Cruise and Kidman trying unsuccessfully to be sexual together on film. Rather, it's a lot more psychologically interesting: Cruise and Kidman are married and bored with each other. (She actually pees in front of him; he doesn't notice her dress, etc.) During a generic high-end society party that they both attend, she dances suggestively with a stranger, and he is seduced by a couple of attractive women who want to lead him into a liaison...

Once home: When the Wife confesses to the Husband that she has often fantasized about other men (that night, and earlier) fucking her, Husband Cruise goes off on a true bender, all across New York!

How did I ever think I had seen this before?? My god, I would have remembered! 

(While viewing the 2nd half, I remembered to DVR the whole thing, and so got to see the beginning later on and then watch the whole thing in its entirety. WOW. And, yes, then went on Amazon and bought the collected stories of the Austrian author Arthur Schnitzler----his 1926 "Traumnovelle" based in Vienna was the impetus for this film.)


Saturday, September 26, 2026

It's Only Love (Beatles/Lennon 1965)

I think this song, and John Lennon, were my first love.
This song came out in 1965, on the Beatles' "Rubber Soul" album.
I was born in 1965 and first heard this song in 1980.

I used to think John was so subtly sensitive.
He was---pre-Yoko's left-wing politics, and then while separated from her.




I get high when I see you go by,
My oh my,
When you sigh, my, my inside just flies,
Butterflies,
Why am I so shy when I'm beside you?
It's only love and that is all,
Why should I feel the way I do?
It's only love and that is all,
But it's so hard loving you.
Is it right that you and I should fight
Every night?
Just the sight of you makes night-time bright,
Very bright.
Haven't I the right to make it up, girl?
It's only love and that is all,
Why should I feel the way I do?
It's only love and that is all,
But it's so hard loving you.
Yes, it's so hard loving you...

21 vs 61

Back when I was 21, I had no lover. One Friday night, alone, I sat on my bed, looking up the Zodiac birthday signs of various poets in the anthology that I'd been reading. (I don't now remember what the prevalent sign was----probably Water or Air.)

40 years later, at 61, I again have no lover. One Friday night, alone, I sit before my computer...


Friday, September 25, 2026

Aw shucks...

Back in July, a French TV producer e-mailed me to see if I was willing to be interviewed for a documentary to be shown on the French/Euro TV channel Canal+ in May 2027, on the topic of "Why Joan Crawford Remains Relevant Even 50 Years After Her Death."

I readily agreed! 

I then had two choices: Either be interviewed in LA in July or NYC in October.  I chose NYC in October. (Aside from looking forward to talking about Joan for a TV program, I'd also lived in NYC from 2007 thru 2010, and was looking forward to seeing it again after 16 years.)

Alas, when the producer finally confirmed the October 9-10 interview dates earlier today, he also told me that his production company could not afford to pay for my airfare or hotel stay! 

Sigh.

I looked up round-trip airfare for Austin-NYC, and looked up low-level-but-decent NYC hotels. I would have been paying about $2000 for plane/hotel/Uber/etc over 3 or 4 days there.

Ya know----I'd love to be filmed talking about Joan Crawford for a Euro TV program that might be streamed later. But I also think that any reputable production company could afford to pay @ $2000 to fly in/house an interviewee. 

Only a couple of years ago, a local play director in San Francisco offered me a free ticket to his small Joan Crawford play. I flew out there (on my own dime) to see the play, because I hadn't been to San Francisco since my graduate-school days there in the mid-1990s and was looking forward to seeing the city again, and because I hadn't been ANYWHERE in years! It was a fun thing to do.

So I was thinking to myself about this current opportunity, once I knew that the producer didn't want to pay for it: OK, it's "only" $2000 or so... That's $2000 for a lifetime of memories and talking points: "When I Got Interviewed in NYC for a Joan Crawford Documentary"!  

But still... Any production company should be able to pay the basic airfare/hotel rooms for its interviewees. Being over the age of 40, I went with my logic.

So, alas, I won't be a part of this upcoming documentary on Joan. But I look forward to seeing it!


Wednesday, September 23, 2026

Lesbian Bar Finally Ditches Masks, Gets Grief from the Violent Sickly

 https://nypost.com/2026/09/22/us-news/massachusetts-lesbian-bar-nearly-bullied-out-of-town-after-lifting-mask-mandate-for-one-night/

A lesbian bar in Massachusetts just now, in 2026, finally got rid of its COVID mask policy. And immediately caught fire from some of its patrons:

“I hope your venue gets firebombed for robbing my fellow immunocompromised people of their Saturday plans just to scrape extra revenue from ablists [sic],” one commenter wrote on the western Massachusetts bar’s post announcing the change, the Boston Globe reported.

“People like you kill disabled people in the name of your own leisure and convenience,” wrote another, while a third said, “Just say you’re being complicit in a mass disabling event and get it over with.”

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

I'm old now and don't go out to bars any more like I used to, but... 

If I remember correctly, the whole point of going out to bars---yes, even to lesbian bars---as a younger person was (1) to dress up and look cute and try to meet people. And (2) to try to find a sense of community.

Gay bars were never a place for "immunocompromised people" and their "Saturday plans." If you're THAT "immunocompromised," shouldn't you be staying home in a safe environment rather than going out to city bars, which are surely the most "germy" places you can possibly find? 
No bar owner is trying to KILL you! (ha!) Bar owners are trying to make money by hosting a fun place for ABLEIST people to gather. The world is not about you DIS-abled.

Saturday, September 19, 2026

The sky is falling! The sky is falling!

 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henny_Penny

Given the recent AI hysteria in the media, I was reminded of many other mass hysterias (all propagated by left-wingers) that I've experienced in my lifetime:

Nuclear Destruction. After the constant media "bomb scares" from the 1950s thru the 1980s, there is STILL a "Doomsday Clock" published by Communist academics today, saying how close we all are to death: https://thebulletin.org/doomsday-clock/

Y2K. Back in 1999, every media outlet claimed that all of our computer systems were about to be totally shut down once we reached the year 2000! OMG! (Nothing happened.)

Climate Change:  In 2019, Communist politicians like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (and many others like her) claimed that "the world will end in 12 years" because of climate change. https://thehill.com/policy/energy-environment/426353-ocasio-cortez-the-world-will-end-in-12-years-if-we-dont-address/  Wow---In 2026, we're only 5 years away!

AI:  As I've just been hearing everywhere on TV and online in the past week: AI is going to end human civilization within the next 10 years! OMG!  https://www.newsweek.com/will-ai-cause-human-extinction-10-years-asked-ai-12419575

Question: Why is it that the Communists among us (and their Media buddies) are always proclaiming the End of Civilization? Could it be that such Hysterics are historically mentally ill and should not be in charge of anything?

Wednesday, September 16, 2026

Hemingway Brain-Damaged Interview in Havana (1954)

The Ken Burns 3-part PBS documentary on Hemingway came out in 2021, but I only watched it just now (only the 2nd and 3rd parts; the 1st part not yet available via DVR).

The below is a 1954 NBC interview with Hemingway in his home in Havana, re his upcoming Nobel Prize award.

This breaks my heart. He's only 55, but has completely lost his ability to speak naturally.

Prior to this interview, he'd recently suffered two serious concussions in only two days while in Africa. I had not realized from reading any bios (only when I saw this video) how those injuries had affected him. I knew that he was incapacitated mentally in his last couple of years ('60 and '61), but watching this, I realized he wasn't himself after about 1954.

(He granted this 1954 interview with the caveat that he knew the questions ahead of time. But even with that: He was not even mentally sound enough to avoid saying "period" and "comma" as he read his text.)

Hemingway shot himself to death in 1961, but he was already dead here in 1954.



 

Sunday, September 13, 2026

Dolly Parton: My Tennessee Mountain Home

 



Dolly Parton: Mule Skinner Blues


 

9/11 Nat Geo Doc

Watched all 6 hour-long episodes on 9/11, which I'd never seen before. In the 6th episode, was struck by the interview with "Chuck Sereika," a self-confessed messed-up, drug-addled dude---and a former paramedic---who only went to the site because his estranged sister had left a phone message, saying that she knew that he was down there helping. (He hadn't planned on helping, but her message inspired him to go. He ended up being a rescuer for a buried fire-fighter.)



#4 UT Longhorns vs #1 Ohio State (Sept 12)

This was THE highest-ranked team we (Longhorns) 
were scheduled to play this year.
We HAD to win this game to maintain national playoff hopes.
It looked very, very bad for more than 3 quarters (23 - 3 at the end of the 3rd).
FINAL SCORE (in dramatic fashion): UT 24, Ohio State 23!



Thursday, September 10, 2026

Where I Was on 9/11/2001

I was working from home in Austin, had been doing so for the past year or so. 

When I woke up on that morning, a Tuesday, my first online check was to see what people on my "Joan Crawford" Yahoo message board had been posting. Specifically, I had been in an ongoing feud with "Julie/Geir" and wanted to see what she/he had posted overnight.

How real-life trauma interferes with your minor personal beefs.

Tuesday, September 08, 2026

Sinners & Saints (George Jones, 1999)

 This song, and the two below:
My god, what great vocals and great playing!



The Lone Ranger (George Jones, 1996)

 



Ain't Love a Lot Like That (George Jones, 1999)

One of the best Country songs ever:
Funny/Interesting lyrics / GREAT singer / 
GREAT piano and all musical accompaniment!


Well, a twister tore the roof off a grocery store
Blew an Idaho potato through the hardwood floor
Twirled granny's apron up around her head
The cat's gone missin' and the dog is dead.

Well, ain't love a lot like that
Ain't love a lot like that
Unconditional, unpredictable
Ain't love a lot like that?

Just like Moses and the Red Sea water
A little bit of faith and the ring I bought her
I hit my knees and she took my hand
And she led my heart to the promised land.

Ain't love a lot like that
Ain't love a lot like that
Unconditional, unpredictable
Ain't love a lot like that?

Well, the honeymoon's over and the work begins
My baby says I'm gettin' on her nerves again
One false move and an angry shout
I'm sleepin' all alone on the fold-out couch.

Ain't love a lot like that
Ain't love a lot like that
Unconditional, unpredictable
Ain't love a lot like that?

Return to Weehawken?

I MIGHT be going back to NYC in October!

If so, I look forward to seeing both NYC and Weehawken, NJ, again after 16 years. I thought both were beautiful and amazing back in 2007-2010----but will I still think so today? (When I was there, Bloomberg was still in charge of NYC. How badly have deBlasio and Mamdani junked it up?)

And in Weehawken: For one thing, the nearby big grocery store---Pathmark-- that I used to walk to is now gone. I want to see if any of the local shops are left, also: My sandwich place, my pizza place, my beer store. And where I used to live: The Kimmeys (Art and Carol) owned the building; lived in the bottom part, rented out the top part. They're probably dead by now (they were in their 70s at the time). But I will never forget the time I brought home a window-unit air-conditioner via cart that I'd bought at the Pathmark, and then couldn't manage to get it up the stairs to my apartment. It sat there at the foot of the stairs for a day or two, and then Korean War-vet Art Kimmey, in his 70s, asked me if I needed help with that! He then tossed the big, heavy box on his shoulder and marched up the stairs with it! THAT is a real man!
 
(And his wife was equally nice: They had laundry machines in their basement that they had not allowed previous upstairs tenants to use. But I think they saw me hauling my laundry in a cart to the laundromat next to the Pathmark a few times, and then after a month or so, invited me to use their personal machines----for which I was very grateful for the next 2 years.) 

Another fond memory of my time living above them: At one point, it was Art's 70th birthday, and they had family over, and were cranking up the 1950s tunes! The next day, they---the owners of the place---apologized to ME for being so loud! :)

At the end of my time there, they knew that I was packing up big boxes full of my stuff and shipping them home to my mother in San Antonio. And Art Kimmey offered to drive me to the post office (also in the same Pathmark complex) with all of those boxes. That offer, I refused, since I had a cart, and the post office was pretty close. 

Very nice people. I wonder, since they owned the building, if their kids now live there. I plan on visiting that beautiful neighborhood, only a couple of minutes' walk to the Hudson, and the view of the NYC skyline. The most physically gorgeous place I've ever lived. Oh, and just a 15-minute bus trip to Weehawken from the Times Square Port Authority bus station. Are there still the NYC "Gypsy" buses for a couple of dollars that stop on Boulevard East in Weehawken?

Monday, September 07, 2026

Viva Les Amis (2005 doc)

 Brief doc of Austin's "Les Amis" cafe (featured in the 1990 movie "Slacker").
This Austin cafe existed from 1970 to 1997. 
(My time spent there: In the early '90s, 
I was in love with a girl at the library where I worked. 
She had a group of friends that went there every Friday after work, 
and I was invited---Gee, thanks!)

While this short touts Les Amis as THE place to hang out for artsy UT students:
In actuality, most of us English/Art majors in the '80s went to the Union, 
and to the Cactus Cafe, both located on campus.
The Union offered cheap pitchers of beer, and you could smoke there at that time. 
This is where groups of us would go after a poetry class to hang out and discuss.
The Cactus Cafe, just adjacent to the Union, was a bit more chi-chi---
more suited during the day for sitting by yourself and reading/writing.
(At night, a singer/songwriter forum.)



Friday, September 04, 2026

Lindsay Clancy Drugs Prescribed

Here are the various medications Clancy was prescribed leading up to her murders of her three children on Jan. 24, 2023, according to a medication list shown in court by the Defense on July 27:

  • Sept. 15, 2022: Sertraline (25 mg) – Jennifer Tufts, MD
  • Oct. 21, 2022: Lorazepam (0.5 mg) – Jennifer Tufts, MD
  • Oct. 26, 2022: Hydroxyzine (25 mg) – Jennifer Tufts, MD
  • Oct. 26, 2022: Lorazepam (1 mg) – Jennifer Tufts, MD
  • Oct. 26, 2022: Buspirone (5 mg) – Jennifer Tufts, MD
  • Nov. 2, 2022: Lorazepam (0.5 mg) – Jennifer Tufts, MD
  • Nov. 9, 2022: Buspirone (5 mg) – Jennifer Tufts, MD
  • Nov. 16, 2022: Trazodone (50 mg) – Kayvon Izadpanah, MD
  • Nov. 21, 2022: Fluoxetine (10 mg) – Julie Paul, RN, CNP
  • Nov. 25, 2022: Zolpidem (5 mg) – Julie Paul, RN, CNP
  • Nov. 25, 2022: Mirtazapine (7.5 mg) – Julie Paul, RN, CNP
  • Nov. 25, 2022: Clonazepam (0.5 mg) – Julie Paul, RN, CNP
  • Nov. 30, 2022: Quetiapine (25 mg) – Rebecca Jollatta, NP
  • Dec. 6, 2022: Diazepam (5 mg) – Rebecca Jollatta, NP
  • Dec. 7, 2022: Diazepam (5 mg) – Rebecca Jollatta, NP
  • Dec. 7, 2022: Quetiapine (100 mg) – Rebecca Jollatta, NP
  • Dec. 9, 2022: Diazepam (5 mg) – Rebecca Jollatta, NP
  • Dec. 13, 2022: Diazepam (2 mg) – Rebecca Jollatta, NP
  • Dec. 16, 2022: Lamotrigine (25 mg) – Jennifer Tufts, MD
  • Dec. 19, 2022: Diazepam (2 mg) – Rebecca Jollatta, NP
  • Dec. 19, 2022: Quetiapine ER (300 mg) – Rebecca Jollatta, NP
  • Dec. 21, 2022: Quetiapine (100 mg) – Rebecca Jollatta, NP
  • Dec. 22, 2022: Quetiapine (25 mg) – Rebecca Jollatta, NP
  • Jan. 5, 2023: Trazodone (50 mg) – Alia Goodheart, MD
  • Jan. 5, 2023: Lorazepam (1 mg) – Alia Goodheart, MD
  • Jan. 9, 2023: Diazepam (5 mg) – Jennifer Tufts, MD
  • Jan. 12, 2023: Trazodone (150 mg) – Jennifer Tufts, MD
  • Jan. 13, 2023: Diazepam (2 mg) – Rebecca Jollatta, NP
  • Jan. 16, 2023: Diazepam (2 mg) – Jennifer Tufts, MD
  • Jan. 16, 2023: Amitriptyline (10 mg) – Jennifer Tufts, MD
  • Jan. 19, 2023: Diazepam (2 mg) – Rebecca Jollatta, NP
  • Jan. 23, 2023: Diazepam (2 mg) – Jennifer Tufts, MD

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

    The above drugging is insane.

    Clancy is on record as having sought help for her post-partum depression. 
    She sought to be admitted to treatment centers on two occasions.
    Rather than admitting her, she was given a cornucopia of drugs instead. 

    I think the utterly incompetent doctors should be prosecuted. 
    And, yes, I think they're young, female DEI doctors---admitted into practice since 2016---and not actual doctors. (All standards pre-2016 were a lot tougher; post-2016, a joke.)

Thursday, September 03, 2026

Delta Dawn (Tanya Tucker, 1972)

This was the 14-year-old Tanya Tucker's first hit single on the Country charts.

When I was an obnoxious little kid, I insisted on performing this in front of family members. 
I think the grandparents liked it, because I remember singing it 
several times in front of people at various family gatherings.

"She's 41, and her daddy still calls her Baby... 
Folks around Brownsville say that she is crazy"

What in the hell was I singing about?!



 

Tuesday, September 01, 2026

Not Waving, But Drowning



I saw this sticker online recently, and it made me laugh.
Reminded me of the 1957 Stevie Smith poem:


Nobody heard him, the dead man,   
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought   
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,   
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always   
(Still the dead one lay moaning)   
I was much too far out all my life   
And not waving but drowning.

Monday, August 31, 2026

Dolly Parton: Light of a Clear Blue Morning (1977)

 

(written by Dolly Parton)

It's been a long dark night
And I've been a waitin' for the morning
It's been a long hard fight
But I see a brand new day a dawning
I've been looking for the sunshine
You know, I ain't seen it in so long
And everything's gonna work out just fine
And everything's gonna be all right
That's been all wrong

'Cause I can see the light of a clear blue morning
I can see the light of a brand new day
I can see the light of a clear blue morning
And everything's gonna be all right
It's gonna be okay

It's been a long, long time
Since I've known the taste of freedom
Those clinging vines
That had me bound, well I don't need 'em

I've been like a captured eagle,
You know, an eagle's born to fly
Now that I, I've won my freedom
Like an eagle, I am eager for the sky


'Cause I can see the light of a clear blue morning
I can see the light of a brand new day
I can see the light of a clear blue morning
Oh, and everything's gonna be all right
It's gonna be okay...

Dolly Parton on The Midnight Special: We Used To (1975)

 


(written by Dolly Parton)

We used to walk through fields of green
We used to sit by clear blue streams
We used to be so happy
Me and you

We used to do such silly things
We used to make love in the rain
We used to
Yes, we used to

Then you went away
Leaving me with the memories we made
Memories of those sweet yesterdays
Spent with you
Spent with you

And even though you're gone
I still think so often of you
And the things that we no longer do
Like we used to
Oh we used to

We used to be so much in love
We used to kiss and hold and touch
We used to find so many things to do

We used to laugh and plan and dream
We used to own the world it seemed
We used to
Yes we used to

Then you went away
Leaving me with the memories we made
Memories of those sweet yesterdays
Spent with you
Spent with you

Oh and even though you're gone
I still think so often of you
And the things that we no longer do
Like we used to
Oh we used to

Dolly Parton: The Seeker (1975)


(written by Dolly Parton for Jesus)

 I am a seeker, a poor sinful creature
There is no weaker than I am
I am a seeker and you are a teacher
You are a reacher, so reach down
Reach out and lead me, guide me and keep me
In the shelter of your care each day

'Cause I am a seeker and you are a keeper
You are a leader, won't you show me the way?

I am a vessel that's empty and useless
I am a bad seed that fell by the way
I am a loser that wants to be a winner
And you are my last hope, don't turn me away

I am a seeker, a poor sinful creature
There is no weaker than I am
I am a seeker and you are a teacher
You are a reacher, so reach down
Reach out and lead me, guide me and keep me
In the shelter of your care each day

'Cause I am a seeker and you are a keeper
You are a leader, won't you show me the way?

Oh, and you are a mountain
From which there flows a fountain
So let its water wash my sins away
'Cause I am a seeker, and you are a keeper
You are a teacher, won't you teach me the way?
Reach out and lead me, guide me and keep me
In the shelter of your care each day

Dolly Parton: The Bargain Store (1975)



(written by Dolly Parton)

My life is like unto a bargain store
And I may have just what you're lookin' for
If you don't mind the fact that all the merchandise is used
But with a little mending it could be as good as new
Why you take for instance this old broken heart
If you will just replace the missing parts
You would be surprised to find how good it really is
Take it and you never will be sorry that you did

The bargain store is open come inside
You can easily afford the price
Love is all you need to purchase all the merchandise
And I will guarantee you'll be completely satisfied

Take these old used memories from the past
And these broken dreams and plans that didn't last
I'll trade them for a future, I can't use them anymore
I've wasted love but I still have some more

The bargain store is open come inside
You can easily afford the price
Love is all you need to purchase all the merchandise
And I can guarantee you'll be completely satisfied

My life is like unto a bargain store
And I may have just what you're lookin' for
If you don't mind the fact that all the merchandise is used
With a little mendin' it could be as good as new

The bargain store is open, come inside
The bargain store is open, come inside

Saturday, August 29, 2026

"Letty Lynton" in Austin (8/28/26)

Just got back from seeing Letty Lynton on the big screen at Austin's State Theatre!

(State sits next-door to the more-famous Paramount---which is currently closed for renovations. Paramount was built in 1915 as a 1000-seat vaudeville house; State, which holds about 350, was built in 1935 specifically as a movie-house. The two theaters merged as one entity in 2000.)

The 350-seat theater was seemingly completely sold out. (I'd sat in the back row, hoping to have a seat on either side of me free, but by the time the show started, people were filling in all the empty seats.)

Big Joan dramatic moments were applauded throughout (as were comedic moments, like the intentionally funny/stunned shipboard look on Letty's face in the newspaper photo with Jerry, shown twice in the film). And the audience especially liked the line "This isn't the early '90s," which a couple of characters said at various points (referring to the "old-fashioned morality" of the 1890s). Another crowd favorite was Louise Closser Hale as Letty's maid/assistant Miranda.

And, while people initially laughed a bit when Letty first opened a bathroom cabinet and dramatically took out a bottle blatantly labeled "POISON," they got very quiet during her final scene with Emil, and during the subsequent interview with the police. I'd seen the movie on a bootleg disc years ago, but if you hadn't seen it before, you weren't quite sure what was going to happen when the police interviewed her at the end (with Jerry and her previously disdainful mother in attendance). Big round of applause at the end. The respect for Joan was palpable.

Letty was on a double-bill with ex-husband Franchot's Phantom Lady from 1944, but by the time Letty was over, I had to escape! Claustrophobia (though I knew the theater would clear out a lot after Letty was over), plus REALLY uncomfortable seats! Oh, and I'd taken a bus downtown since I didn't want to deal with parking. From previous experience on Austin buses 10 years ago, I knew there would be weirdos at 5:30pm and at 9:00pm; didn't want to gamble on who I'd encounter after 10:30pm!

p.s. 
The 5:30pm folks on the way there were mainly mildly agitated, sometimes addressing their verbal grievances toward me and others. The bus-driver knew no English at all: When I asked him which stop to take on the way home, he had no idea what I was asking him.
Among the 9pm folks on the way home: 
A shaved-head white guy wearing a "Recovery" T-shirt who had a pit-bull stuck underneath his bus seat. The dog kept HOWLING. The man wasn't being particularly mean to the dog, but he did keep "adjusting" the dog, trying to make him shut up.
A 40-something Hispanic guy who was blasting his "tunes" for all of us to hear.
Bus rules state: No animals, no music. If you want public transportation to catch on with the general public, then you do need to enforce stuff like: No verbal abuse toward fellow riders, no howling animals, no blasting music.
Oh, and perhaps your drivers should know rudimentary English.





Wednesday, August 26, 2026

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)

 



Monday, August 24, 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!

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

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?)

Wednesday, August 19, 2026

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!

Monday, August 17, 2026

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.

Saturday, August 15, 2026

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! :)



Thursday, August 13, 2026

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!

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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.)

Saturday, August 08, 2026

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.)

Sunday, August 02, 2026

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.)

Saturday, August 01, 2026

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...