RIP Sandra Skipwith Bowen (11/06/57 - 02/21/24)

https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/houstonchronicle/name/sandra-bowen-obituary?id=54506536

Sandra Skipwith Bowen
11/06/1957 - 02/21/2024
Sandra Skipwith Bowen passed away on Wednesday, February 21, with her daughters by her side, following years of complications from a devastating stroke. A beloved mother, sister, daughter, aunt, and friend, Sandra is now free from suffering. She was 66 years of age. 

Sandra was born in Houston on November 6, 1957 to Dorrace Aleen Dominey and William Harvey Skipwith Jr. She attended St. John's School, the University of Texas, and the University of Houston. Growing up in Pine Shadows neighborhood of Houston, Sandra enjoyed playing with childhood friends, especially adventures along the bayou. Sandra lost both her parents by the time she was seventeen, a heartache from which she never fully recovered. Sandra was largely raised by Alice Griffin, the family's housekeeper and dear friend turned surrogate-mother and an instrumental part of Sandra's life.

In 1988, Sandra married Berry Dunbar Bowen. Together, they had two beautiful daughters, Susannah and Elizabeth, who were the light of her life. Sandra later married José Gross, and while their marriage only lasted a few years, José remained kind and caring to Susie and Lizzy.

Immensely talented and creative, Sandra was a gifted painter and writer: a true artist. She saw the world differently, and inspired those around her to do the same. She brought wonder and whimsy to her daughters' youth, and had a special love for all children. Stylish and elegant, Sandra loved playing dress-up with her daughters and always had a flair for the dramatic.

Sandra overcame many adversities in life and was a fighter. She cared deeply for others and had great compassion for those less fortunate, a quality she instilled in her girls.

Sandra is survived and deeply missed by her daughters Susie Tucker and Lizzy Bowen, along with their husbands Payson Tucker and Michael Hardy; sister Jeanne Skipwith; sister Betsy Clemons and husband Reed; grandchildren Eliot and Florence Tucker; nieces Callie Burns and Florence Conte; and nephew Skip Clemons.

The family wishes to thank the staff at Aaryn Hospice and Braeswood Estates for their loving care of Sandra, as well as the many friends who helped Sandra over the years.

A memorial gathering will take place on Wednesday April 3 at one o'clock in the afternoon at Pumpkin Park, 3600 Locke Lane, Houston, Texas 77027.
In lieu of customary remembrances, the family requests with gratitude that contributions in her name be directed to Friends of Pumpkin Park (by mail: 3737 Buffalo Speedway #200 Houston, TX 77098) or the Houston SPCA (https://act.houstonspca.org/a/honor).

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In the words of my beautiful Sandra, who would or could not love me:

I am assigning jobs to all these dead people I know, knew, and loved.

Surely they can teach each person who has not acted right in my world.

Surely they can accomplish the task of a spiritual order and all it demands.

Aren’t their powers super natural, by now?

Their job is to teach remorse to the perv teacher, the thief, the greedy man, the sadist.

To my father, I give Joe Lucia, the bookie, and stealer of innocent souls.

To my mother, I give Jack Trotter, the thief, let her ferocious rage whip him.

To Craig, I give Annis, Jack and Berry. Let him teach them manners, refinement and the lesson about sadism that blinds everyone.

Make them straight, show them their way.

And to Mama, I also give the cowboy who won’t come home.

They all earned their jobs with their deeds of love and loyalty.

 

Falling into the US health-care system is depressing!

Well, let me say "the idea of" because I haven't quite "fallen into it" yet!

A week or so ago, I felt some swollen gums and when I looked into the mirror, I thought I saw some BROWN teeth back there! I freaked out! "WHY are two of my teeth BROWN?? Are they rotten and about to fall out of my mouth??" I went to the dentist today (for the first time in many years); my teeth are fine, nothing is about to fall out. (Still ZERO cavities after all these years, proud to say! Though not because of any of my recent tooth-care. Post-COVID in 2020, I've barely been brushing my teeth once a day.) 

But all of a sudden, I need "root planing" to get rid of tartar! And, while my mainstream dental healthcare is supposed to cover 80%, according to the cost summary presented to me today, it's going to cost me over $500 for two future visits (two "quadrants" a visit)----which is actually me paying over 60% instead of 20%!

I dunno---I went ahead and made the appointments. And I can afford the $500. BUT... If this is supposedly a regular procedure (as the dentist told me), then why isn't my provider covering 80% of it? I contacted my provider and asked them this; after giving them the "proposed procedure" numbers, I was told that my dentist wanted to use "antimicrobials"---which wasn't covered by the provider... The provider (in online chat) then told me that use of "antimicrobials" was standard procedure at every dentist's office. Me: Well, if it's "standard procedure at every dentist's office," then why isn't it covered by the provider? (It's just not.)

Alright, well, I have two appointments coming up. In the meantime, I still have my swollen gums. The visit today didn't do anything to assuage this minor problem. Though I did get some X-rays taken. And the AC was out in the building, and the doctor was running very late, so I sat there, sweating on the pleather chair for a half-hour before I finally jumped up and started pacing around the room, fanning myself. Which brought me to the attention of various assistants, who did bring me two fans! First a mini hand-held, then a big box for the whole room----which, mind you, was very thoughtful of them, and I thanked them... BUT... We're in Texas in May----why is the AC not working in a dentist's office?? We're not in a fucking Third World country (yet)!

When my new dentist finally showed up (about 1:30---my appointment was for 11:50), he was very nice and knowledgeable and said my name a dozen times while he explained all the X-ray pictures. But all I really wanted to know was if any teeth were about to fall out (they were not) while he was busy upselling my future "root-planing" visits for $500!

I arrived there at 11:30am (early to fill out paperwork before my 11:50 appointment). Didn't get out of there until 2:30pm. Had X-rays and waiting and conversation, but no basic cleaning of my teeth or scraping of tartar or anything. Back in the olden days (@10 years ago), you'd at least get the cleaning and the scraping and then walk out thinking that at least SOMETHING had been accomplished in your mouth for the $20 co-pay!

All I walked out with today was a relief for being out of the sauna-like heat in that office, a promise that I'd be paying $500 over the next month for what I suspect is a money-gauging procedure, and a prescription for "Chlorhexidine Gluconate" as mouth-rinse for my current mildly swollen gums. (As it turned out, the assistant at the desk put the wrong name on the prescription, which I didn't notice until I'd already gotten to my car...)

Heaven forbid I should ever get cancer!

What the 3 hours today DID inspire me to do was order a bunch of dental-care items from Amazon and Walmart! A rinse, special flosses for the back teeth and between retainers (my own, left over from 30 years ago), miles of regular floss. And, free of charge, a new determination to at least brush TWICE a day! 

I have been incredibly sloppy with my health (bodily, dentally, visually) since COVID. As I also have been at various other points during my life. But in your 20s and 30s, it doesn't matter. In your 40s, the gamble still doesn't really matter (depending on your genetics). In your 50s, though---genetics or not---things start to break down and you need to pay attention to them. I'm glad that this "tooth scare" got me to finally make appointments with both a dentist and a regular doctor (appointment for the latter at end of month). But this newfound "responsibility toward physical self" has just led me to a bunch of dental appointments for procedures not solving my one current actual minor problem of "swollen gums around two teeth." And once I go the the bodily doctor at end of month, lord knows what offices she's going to suggest/insist I go to for tests to determine...what?

I hate the idea of all of this constant enervating wrangling! Waiting uncomfortably in what muggy offices, for word of how many unnecessary procedures to enrich the docs and their insurance companies? If you find out that you're actually sick, this is your horrid life until the end of your brief days! The slow-mo death, interspersed with the doctor visits that make you think you're accomplishing something...

Queen – Bohemian Rhapsody (Donald Trump Cover)

Haven't played this since March... People have very short attention spans.
(Still enjoy the funny inserted Putin piano playing, and still think the actual brief Pelosi reaction starting around 1:05 is real and charming.)

The USA's last gasp at a leader with actual common-sense and fact-based opinions, rather than theoretical opinions as espoused by Marxists and UN-sponsored globalists (aka "Marxists").
Obama, at least, had to temper his radicalism because he was black.
Biden: A long-time mainstream do-nothing Dem, sold his soul to the Communists to get elected. 

We're currently seeing the result of that soul-selling:
20% inflation, criminals not arrested or charged, Muslim radicals on campuses,

millions of illegals entering the country and given debit cards...

GIVE 'EM HELL, TRUMP!

And very much looking forward to the mass deportations in January 2025

of everyone that Biden should never have let in.

A Regular Life

I remember as a very young adult, when I got my first full-time job with benefits back in the late '80s or so (at a university library), that I was so proud to be able to pick a doctor and dentist, and also to choose to put $100 per month into Government bonds.

At this time, I also had my first apartment to myself that wasn't an efficiency: It had TWO rooms!

I also conscientiously planned my dinners to include a vegetable each time. And when I got home from my library job each day, I'd conscientiously make my dinner.

Some of the above is beside my current point, but one thing is not: I haven't been to a doctor or a dentist in over 10 years---and yet I remember that making such appointments was part of my feeling like an "adult" in my early years as an adult. (A reflection of my childhood: My well-organized mother had regular doctor/dentist appointments for us kids.)

I haven't felt anything seriously wrong with me lately, but I'd just been too lazy to sign up for my health-care website, and then to call around for doctors/dentists. Finally did so today. Now have a doctor and dentist appointment in the next 3 weeks. But still don't have an optometrist appointment---I've been using generic 2.50 readers for the past 10 years; my eyes are shot and I've been self-medicating with cheap Amazon glasses. Looking forward to some real glasses.

As for the $100 Govt bonds: Luckily my employers over the past 10 years have 401(k) plans that I'm letting ride...

As for vegetables: I DO still buy Romaine lettuce and broccoli and avocados every 3 weeks! It was cute, though, when I'd come home every day and make my meal with the piece of meat and the canned peas or something. And then sit down to my 12-inch black-and-white television and/or read from a book of poetry until it was time for Letterman at 11:30, and then time for bed. And then I'd listen to Larry King's radio show to help get me to sleep.

When to Stop Clubbing

Usually, it's when you get into a serious relationship, or have a serious job, or just get bored with the whole club scene.

Me: I had no love, and had only a mid-level job that I could perform even when I showed up hung-over the next day. I was indeed very bored, but my "boredom" wasn't what finally stopped me from going out 3 to 4 times a week. (I was still too obsessed with the whole ritual of going out to stop merely because I wasn't getting anything out of it.)

I guess my getting raped in May 2000 was the obvious final straw, but the universe had been giving me many signs before then. 

For 5 years, I'd been driving to downtown Austin on weekends to park and then walk to clubs. I'd never had a problem finding a parking space until 2000 or so. All of sudden, for about 6 weeks in a row, I couldn't find any place to park downtown without circling around for a half-hour or more. At one point, I darted into a spot that another car wanted---the guys in the car yelled out at me, "Good luck getting laid tonight!" (I wasn't out to "get laid"---I was actually still hoping to see my ex-girlfriend... but their words disturbed me.)

Another time during this period, after I had parked and was walking to my club, one guy in a group of young Hispanics made a grab for my purse. I jerked it out of his way and made a joke of it and kept walking. They were young (not yet serious criminals), so they laughed and moved on and didn't mug me or anything, but it was still a disturbing encounter.

Not a parking-related incident, but: One night after clubbing, I'd gone to a Denny's to eat a 4am meal with a guy and his girlfriend (that I'd only just met). While there, a drunk girl at the next table started yelling about GAYS! Apparently, she'd spotted some across the restaurant and wanted to identify them to her dining-mates. I told her that she sounded like she was from Mississippi and that she should shut up.... She lunged at me; her friends calmed her down. But not before she yelled at me: "Well, you look OLD!" The random people I was dining with at 4am were angry at ME for causing a scene.

Also at this time: A gay club that I'd been regularly going to for years suddenly imposed a policy: "No Open-Toed Shoes and No Purses." I was told that this was to prohibit drag queens. While many actual women didn't wear open-toed shoes, the "no purse" policy was a problem for me. Not to mention how creepy this openly sexist policy was.

All of the above had been going on in the months prior to my May 2000 rape. It took the rape to finally get me to stop going out by myself. But, in thinking back, I think the above were all giving me definite signs that I was not welcome in the environment that I was placing myself in. (Different levels of right or wrong: I didn't deserve to be raped; I didn't deserve to be accused of being downtown "to get laid"; I didn't deserve to have my purse almost snatched; while creeps in a late-night restaurant can't be helped, I didn't deserve to have my random companions blame ME for the disturbance; and the gay club was just looking for an excuse to ban women.)

Girl in a Coma: Clumsy Sky (2007)

I recently sent a friend a raw video of Stevie Nicks doing "Rhiannon," and she sent me this in return----both are great and goose-bump-raising!

I don't know what dive bar this video was filmed in, but it looks like someplace around 

Austin or San Antonio that I used to hang out in back in the '90s.

"Girl in a Coma" is a former San Antonio band, now morphed into a band 

called "Fea" that's currently touring the US.

My Brief Note to a Muslim from Michigan

Had to respond to a dumb young "immigrant radical" from Michigan posting today on the UK Daily Mail site :

For the past 16 years or so, America has been apparently governed by those championing losers----the decrepit, the lowly, the misshapen, the ill-adapted, etc. 

I personally may not be a success but I still TRY---and that's where you Marxists fail. 

You, for instance, were allowed into this country under leftist policies. (Normally, anyone from a radical, anti-American country wouldn't have been allowed in.) And when you get here, instead of being very grateful, you don't try to assimilate into the country or learn anything about the country----you find it easier to disrespect it and take the easiest, dumbest, Marxist route: "Oh, I'm not doing so well, so America is evil." 

If you don't like it here, then go back home to your shit-hole country (as Donald Trump once so casually, but so accurately, said) if that was so great! Otherwise, try to learn about your new country and adapt to it instead of constantly bitching about it, and protesting against it, for no reason. 

Don't elect a Tlaib, don't ignorantly support flying a Palestinian flag instead of the United States flag. Fit in to your new country. If you can't, then go back home---where you couldn't make it in the first place. You support the concept of "Palestine" (stolen by Muslims from Judea) so fervently? Then go set up your encampments in Gaza. See how long they last there. 

In America, we allow you to be clowns. But not VIOLENT clowns. We've been patient with you for a very long time. I have a feeling that the overt anti-American and Marxism sentiments you've been displaying are about to end. Not sure when exactly the repercussions will happen, but I look forward to it. I hope there's a grand purge in all government and college institutions of anyone displaying blatant anti-American sympathies. Seems kind of basic, right, since we're in America?

Fleetwood Mac: Silver Springs (1997)

Nicks remained upset for years that this song 

was not initially included on the "Rumours" album.
It's certainly a much better song than "Oh Daddy" or "Never Going Back Again" 
(if you have to name one or two to replace).

The Revolution Will Be Catered

https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/world/this-is-like-basic-humanitarian-aid-we-re-asking-for-columbia-protesters-demand-food-water-from-university/ar-AA1nX5Gf

From MSN: Columbia University’s Communist student protesters added some new items (aside from their list of political demands) in a Tuesday press briefing: "Basic humanitarian aid" to themselves, which protesters say the university is under obligation to provide them:

“It’s ultimately a question of what kind of community and obligation Columbia feels it has to its students — do you want students to die of dehydration and starvation or get severely ill, even if they disagree with you?” Johanna King-Slutzky, a representative for the People’s University, a PhD candidate at Columbia’s Graduate School of Arts and Science, and a teacher, said. “If the answer is ‘no,’ then you should allow basic. . . . I mean, it’s crazy to say because we’re on an Ivy League campus, but this is, like, basic humanitarian aid we’re asking for, like, could people please have a glass of water?”

I mean, like, we haven't had snacks in 4 hours! You are SO MEAN to us!

Meanwhile, Communist protesters on the UCLA campus had an even more specific list (be sure NOT to include any bagels in your picnic basket! You know---way too JEWISH!)

Did anyone actually sympathize with these idiots and send them knee-pads and/or ice and NO nuts? (It would have been funny if someone had sent in a big bag of McDonald's burgers-n-fries---or better yet, a big bag of bagels.)

Remember the McCarthy hearings of the 1950s? Never thought I'd hear myself say this, but: Time again to purge US colleges of both their overt Communism and their idiocy. (Reading about McCarthy in my history books as a school-kid in the '70s and '80s, I thought, "Oh, how terrible!" Living through the Communist chaos today, though, he had a very good point: This ignorant BS has, LIKE, got to stop.) 

Colleges are currently stifling all dissenting opinions---not allowing alternate speakers on campus, and allowing the most violent minority of students to take over campus buildings and harass those that disagree with them. That's not "free speech," that's "fascism." A tactic that Communists have been using since 1848---while labeling their opponents "fascist." 

The Admins and Faculties of US colleges have been supporting these anti-American principles and tactics for the past 16 years or more, since approximately 2008. And the mainstream media has been right there with them. And now everyone is wondering how things got to this point?

A p.s.: Just heard today that the Biden Admin is thinking about admitting 100,000 Gaza residents into the US. Now, stop and think for just a sec: If their own "Muslim brothers" in the region like Jordan and Egypt refuse to allow these people into their own countries... Why is that? Because they're fucking radicals and would disrupt their countries' governments! How sensible! And so why are WE even thinking for ONE SECOND about admitting them into the US?? PLEASE! For god's sake, get the senile Biden and his incompetent Communist handlers out of office.

The VERY Sick Governor Kristi Noem

The Republican Governor of South Dakota, Kristi Noem, regales us in her upcoming book with her murders of a couple of animals. In short, she shot to death her 14-month-old dog "Cricket" for killing a neighbor's chickens, and also shot a goat for smelling bad and chasing her kids.

The below is from the UK Guardian:

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2024/apr/26/trump-kristi-noem-shot-dog-and-goat-book

[Kristi Noem] includes her story about the ill-fated Cricket, she says, to illustrate her willingness, in politics as well as in South Dakota life, to do anything “difficult, messy and ugly” if it simply needs to be done.

By taking Cricket on a pheasant hunt with older dogs, Noem says, she hoped to calm the young dog down and begin to teach her how to behave. Unfortunately, Cricket ruined the hunt, going “out of her mind with excitement, chasing all those birds and having the time of her life”.

Noem describes calling Cricket, then using an electronic collar to attempt to bring her under control. Nothing worked. Then, on the way home after the hunt, as Noem stopped to talk to a local family, Cricket escaped Noem’s truck and attacked the family’s chickens, “grabb[ing] one chicken at a time, crunching it to death with one bite, then dropping it to attack another”.

Cricket the untrainable dog, Noem writes, behaved like “a trained assassin”.

When Noem finally grabbed Cricket, she says, the dog “whipped around to bite me”. Then, as the chickens’ owner wept, Noem repeatedly apologised, wrote the shocked family a check “for the price they asked, and helped them dispose of the carcasses littering the scene of the crime”.

Through it all, Noem says, Cricket was “the picture of pure joy”.

“I hated that dog,” Noem writes, adding that Cricket had proved herself “untrainable”, “dangerous to anyone she came in contact with” and “less than worthless … as a hunting dog”.

“At that moment,” Noem says, “I realised I had to put her down.”

Noem, who also represented her state in Congress for eight years, got her gun, then led Cricket to a gravel pit.

“It was not a pleasant job,” she writes, “but it had to be done. And after it was over, I realised another unpleasant job needed to be done.”

Incredibly, Noem’s tale of slaughter is not finished.

Her family, she writes, also owned a male goat that was “nasty and mean”, because it had not been castrated. Furthermore, the goat smelled “disgusting, musky, rancid” and “loved to chase” Noem’s children, knocking them down and ruining their clothes.

Noem decided to kill the unnamed goat the same way she had just killed Cricket the dog. But though she “dragged him to a gravel pit”, the goat jumped as she shot and therefore survived the wound. Noem says she went back to her truck, retrieved another shell, then “hurried back to the gravel pit and put him down”.

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What an utterly clueless, utterly stupid piece of shit this woman is.

Re the murder of the dog "Cricket""
Noem takes a 14-month-old young dog on a pheasant hunt "to calm her down" and "teach her how to behave." (A HUNT is hardly the time or place to calm a dog down, you idiot!)
But instead, the young dog gets excited and starts chasing the pheasants.
On the way home, after the excitement of chasing pheasants, the dog then chases and kills some neighbors' chickens. (Why wouldn't she? The idiot owner had just taken her on a bird hunt. What's a "good" bird to kill and what's a "bad" bird to kill? How was the dog supposed to know the difference? Noem calls the dog a "trained assassin" as an excuse for murdering her----but the dog had supposedly been (poorly) "trained" by Noem to kill pheasants, right?)

Re the murder of the goat:
Noem uses the excuse that the goat was not castrated, that he smelled, that he chased her kids and knocked them down and got their clothes dirty.
If the goat wasn't castrated, whose fault is that? Goats don't castrate themselves. Goats also can't help their smell. And goats are notoriously ornery. Why allow your allegedly "delicate flower" children in the same pen with a goat and not expect the goat to butt into them? Why not keep your creepy kids away from the goat?

Questions:
You wanted a hunting dog. You got the goofy "Cricket" instead. Couldn't kill the pheasants you wanted, but could kill chickens. Didn't work out, hunting-wise. Did you ever think about seeking another home for her, or giving her to the local Humane Society? Why was killing her the answer?
You had a male goat that acted aggressively, that smelled, that chased your kids. Why did you get the goat in the first place? If you were worried about aggression, why didn't you castrate him? Why did you allow him to run loose if you were worried about him chasing your kids? You didn't have a pen for him? If you weren't aware of natural goat behavior, why not sell him? Why was killing him the answer?
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There are many gray areas in life, but what I just read above is a pure case of black-and-white evil---a case of a human being who has absolutely ZERO sense of judgment whatsoever, and errs utterly in favor of the absolute worst-case scenario.

This isn't a case of pit-bulls mauling babies---I'm all for putting those violent dogs down, just as I'm in favor of putting violent humans down.
But Noem shoots a pet dog that couldn't properly hunt pheasants but then kills chickens? And then shoots her goat for acting like a goat---oh, and dirtying her kids' clothes?

I have no idea about this woman's dwelling in South Dakota: Is it a farm? Is it a big house in a town? What I just read indicates to me that she knows nothing at all about animals, yet felt the need to shoot them on a whim because she "disliked" them. Worse yet: This all happened decades ago. You might think that she had come to her senses since then and felt a bit sorry for her rash actions. But no, she includes these creepy incidents in her new book in an ill-advised attempt to show how able she is to make The Tough Decisions. "Just like a man," I suppose. Except most normal men don't kill young dogs and goats to show how "tough" they are.

Other, way-more-shallow, reasons for not trusting her as a government leader: The hair extensions, the Botox, the fake brows and teeth, the Photoshopped official photos---all while claiming to be a "country girl" and "of the people." The posing has surely prevented her from doing her job and thinking straight. Same with many male leaders (including Biden) who are just as phony as she is---yet I don't know of any male leaders who thought that tales of shooting a young family dog and goat somehow were a PLUS to include in their memoirs to show how "tough" they were. Any woman so clueless about what "leadership" means---and who thinks that shooting a dog and goat are relevant examples of her "leadership"---isn't fit to lead.

Dawn Powell + "The Happy Island"

Powell has 9 of her 15 novels currently available in 2 Library of America editions:

Vol 1 (1930 - 1942):
Dance Night
Come Back to Sorrento (first issued as "The Tenth Moon")
Turn, Magic Wheel
Angels on Toast
A Time to Be Born

Vol 2 (1944 - 1962):
My Home is Far Away
The Locusts Have No King
The Wicked Pavilion
The Golden Spur

After reading her bio by Tim Page, and the letters and diary edited by same, I've also been making my way through the novels. Have finished all of Vol. 1, and am halfway through the 1938 novel The Happy Island, which was not included in a LofA edition.

Having not yet started on it, I don't yet know about Vol. 2, but Vol. 1 plus The Happy Island are---despite their ostensibly "satirical" peeks into both small-town and big-city life---actually pretty heart-breakingly in-depth re the psychological nuances of all of the characters as they navigate their situations, whether small- or big-town.

In the first volume: I'd recommend ALL of them. But Dance Night, Sorrento, and Magic Wheel are, to me, the most acute and touching. In all, Powell makes clear the characters' (and society's) foibles but also has great compassion, and understanding, for them.

After being described by reviewers as "satirical," she gave her own definition of the term: "Satire is people as they are; romanticism, people as they would like to be; realism, people as they seem with their insides left out."

While currently reading 1938's The Happy Island, this passage (about a former Big Woman on Campus at Smith, now married to successful playwright Neal, and her weekly "Girls' Night Out" with her sorority sisters, the "Cosies") funnily stood out:
In the fifteen years these ladies had been in constant touch with each other, they had never ceased to be amazed at meeting each other of all people, and their ecstasy over each other's hats, gloves, complexions, wit, and general perfection had never waned. ... Two of the five Cosies had husbands, and the group ecstasy flung itself on the associative-Cosy as ebulliently as if he were a new fudge cake. All of the girls were simply crazy about Neal, and they attended matinees of every one of his plays and loved them, I really mean that. ... [Neal] would never discuss the points in his works with them, which was hardly fair since four out of five had majored in English and were especially crazy about the Dramas...

Throughout the book, Powell is equally cogent of the peccadilloes of Neal and other artists, as well as the various gay males and older-female socialites hanging around the "arts scene" of NYC circa 1938. A cafe singing star (one of the main characters), for example, has lost her radio-star boyfriend to another woman. The singer then seduces the other woman herself for revenge, then becomes incredibly bored with her inanity, while her closest gay male friend (a low-level museum employee) then reports on their goings-on at parties, including their matching platinum toenail polish and their annoying mutual phraseology of "divoon" et al. (And all of this in 1938! And not written pruriently but just matter-of-factly and brilliantly!) 

Oh, and the gossipy "gay friend" has just acquired a boy toy whom he hopes to inspire to write a cookbook (since the pasty-faced kid seems to have no other talents). When the mentor sneaks a peek at the work in progress after 6 weeks, he finds only a single paragraph:
VEGETABLES: Vegetables ought to be fresh. Vegetables ought not to cook to death. They ought to only have a little water put on them as this makes them a little mushy.

Which dismay is more palpable, the reader's or the would-be mentor's?  Powell makes all of these characters both interesting and great, despite their actual non-greatness.

Police clash with pro-Palestine protesters at UT Austin (my alma mater)

Note the utterly one-sided pro-Communist coverage by CBS (once a mainstream news network). All interviewees are leftists. And not one mention by so-called journalists of the October 7 murder of 1300 Israeli citizens in the Hamas attack that led to the much-deserved Israeli retaliation. 

 

Also no mention of the history of region. 2,000 years ago, it was "Judea"---homeland of the Jews. Then Romans invaded, then Muslims invaded...this piece of land has changed hands many times over the centuries, depending on who was in power. For these dumb college kids to call Israelis "colonialists" is ridiculous, dangerous, utterly ignorant. Jews were there first.

Also ridiculous is these ignorant Communist-indoctrinated kids supporting Hamas---or any other radical Muslim group. These precious LGBTQ+++ feminists, queers, trannies, and radicals (and their "feelings" and "identities") would be the first to have their heads chopped off if they lived under Hamas.

"The West" has put up with this Communist radical BS for too many years now. ENOUGH. You don't get to tear down our statues and deface our art, you don't get to camp out on public property, you don't get to take over college campuses and keep those with opposing views from speaking, you don't get to block traffic, you don't get to make us say "zhe" and "zher" and pretend that biology does not exist, you don't get to destroy women's sports by allowing biological males to compete in them, you don't get to eliminate our country's borders and allow anyone to come on over unvetted, you don't get to pretend that "Climate Change" is a human-created thing and has not been happening on the planet for millions of years, you don't get to drum up idiotic non-legal charges against a political opponent because you don't like him (third-world tactics by...look at the DEI DAs in charge), you don't get to rewrite history and make up stuff according to Marxist theory rather than the facts.

ENOUGH WITH YOUR INSANITY!!! ENOUGH!!!! No more incompetent Weimar-era Communism and milque-toast "democracy." IT'S NOT WORKING.

Bedtime

Just notes to be filled out later:

In 1985: A summer full-time job in Austin after I'd run away from home: I drank heavily for the first time (cheap wine, usually while listening to Simon & Garfunkel and writing poetry), but absolutely stopped each night at 10pm so I could wake up at 6:30am to get up for work.

In 2010: My new stopping time was midnight.

Today (2024): Said "stopping time" has turned into 3:30am.

Fleetwood Mac: Go Your Own Way (1977) by Lindsey Buckingham

Fleetwood Mac: You Make Loving Fun (1977) by Christine McVie

Nice GUIRO work, Stevie! (I had to look up the name of that "instrument.")
And put on some PANTS, John McVie! :) 
(And which is more hideous outside of the home: 

jean shorts or Birkenstocks or Buckingham's kimono tops?)
Sarcasm aside, these guys have such a great GROOVE going...

Fleetwood Mac: Don't Stop (1977) by Christine McVie

Listening on the record, I'd always thought Christine McVie was singing at the beginning! (Wish there were more close-ups of her keyboard-playing than of Buckingham.)
And how utterly stoned and bedraggled do Nicks and Fleetwood look here...

Famous Last Words

Louis B. Mayer (10/29/57):  "Nothing matters."

Winston Churchill (01/24/65): "I'm bored with it all."

Both of these great men accomplished so much, yet came to the same sad conclusion...
I'm pretty mediocre and not yet on my deathbed, but I came to the same conclusion a couple of years ago. Only, my last-gasped words would be: "It's all hormones."

Once you've been shoved out of Power or Beauty (or the possibility of such), you keep going not because you're excited about the present or future but just because you're not sure of the alternative. And, according to records of all Western civilizations from the past thousands of years (until our own current sleazy Marxist, abortion-allowing US/Western culture), one has a duty to be grateful to the rarity of Life and carry on (unless required by honor not to). Will do.

Stevie Nicks: Gold Dust Woman (1981, at The Roxy in H'wood w' Bob Welch and Mick Fleetwood)

Stevie Nicks: Enchanted (Live In Chicago, 2008)

Stevie Nicks: Enchanted (from 1983's The Wild Heart, 2nd solo album)

Crying in the morning, trying to be strong
Waiting for the spring to turn into the fall
Love don't mean what it says at all
And my destiny says that I'm destined to fall

Enchanted
You thought you saw something in my eyes
Enchanted
It's a shame that you wanted me
You didn't try

Why the sad face, oh, darling?
Was it my darkness shadow light?
I mean to cause no trouble for you
That is the story of my life...

Stevie Nicks: Landslide

One of the best pop songs ever written.

Twisted: Stevie Nicks & Lindsey Buckingham (1996)

 

You think you hear demons
I think you are the demon
In this place where the images are born
You remember your childhood
Oh, in fiery sequences

The sun goes down
Filling the air with color and winds
that lift you up to God

You fall to your knees
You embrace the storm

You no longer care
If it's cold or if it's warm
You live for the danger
Like your passion and your anger

You don't let go
You like to be twisted by the force
You like to be shaken by the wind

I know, you know
Watching you go is like dying

[In this game that you play with God
You've been warned to retreat]

You take it to the limit
When the winds come up

Crazy men, crazy women
Crying out for love
You'd like to save her
But you just can't give it up

You'd rather be wrapped up
In the arms of a storm
Crazy men, crazy women
In the arms of a storm

---written by Stevie Nicks

Fleetwood Mac: Second Hand News (1977, Rumours album opener)

Everything going on in this song is wildly remarkable---
instruments, voices, production, lyrics, energy, you name it.
Lindsey Buckingham song and production. 

(I lean toward Team Stevie, but Lindsey is great...except for "Tusk."
This song is as fresh in its own way as he later attempted to emulate, much less successfully,
in the barren, ridiculously snare-drum laden "Tusk" and his solo works.)

Fleetwood Mac: Second Hand News (latter-day live)

Latter-day, speed-freak Lindsey, Stevie keeping up with his shite.



One thing that I will always remember about this couple is that, in their early days together,
Stevie Nicks had to work as a waitress and as a maid to pay their rent 

and support Lindsey's lazy ass.

Sleep

I haven't slept particularly well for the past 15 years or so. I attribute(d) it simply to the fact that I was aging. (One fallacy I had when I lived in NYC from '07 to '10, while I was 42 to 45, was that I could drink as much as I wanted the night before and then wake up the next morning and go out and energetically look for a job! Not true! I may not have been horribly hung-over and befuddled, but I also did not wake up with a lot of energy for the New Day or the New City! Looking back, I think I only gave NYC 80%, which obviously wasn't good enough.)

This Saturday, I laid down on my couch at 1:30pm for what I thought would be a brief half-hour nap---woke up 4 hours later, completely invigorated (with the cats semi-mad at me because I missed their feeding time). I was kind of shocked at how good I felt! An interesting sensation after years of waking up after numerous sleeps just feeling "so-so." No, nothing different about this particular snooze. Just the universe being nice, I guess, with a reminder of the past. (I have always liked Austin in April, the smells, the mellow temperature, the doves cooing. I like being able to have windows open, breeze coming in, before the heat-wave starts in a couple of weeks...)

Tax Day: Returns and E-Filing

I've been e-filing my taxes since 2013. This year, for the first time, my e-file was rejected. I tried multiple times, but it was rejected each time. I've been making roughly the same amount of money for the past 4 years, with no new personal info to add. Have no idea what went wrong this time. And so I printed out my info and mailed it in for the first time in 10 years.

I've got my tax folders for the past 10 years neatly arranged. Here's an example of my either "refund" or "owe" results:

2013 (under Obama): Doing primarily freelance work, very low income and not paying regular taxes. Owed $239.
2014 (under Obama): First part of year freelance, then regular job at university. Refunded $17.
2015 (under Obama): Regular job at university. Refunded $375.
2016 (under Obama): Regular job at university. Refunded $451.

2017 (under Trump): Regular job at university. Refunded $625.
2018 (under Trump): Regular job at university. Refunded $544.
2019 (under Trump): Regular job at university until October. Refunded $730.
2020 (under Trump): New higher-paying job. Refunded $440.

2021 (under Biden): Same job as above. Refunded $5.
2022 (under Biden): Same job as above. Refunded $2.
2023 (under Biden): Same job as above. Owe $200. Can't e-file, as usual.

Am I better off, tax-wise, than I was 4 years ago? No, I am definitely not.

Trump and Son: Ho, Ho, Ho...

I'm sorry, I can't stop. These are too great.

Trump and Son: The Nancy Episodes

Dear god, I didn't realize that after "The Hillary Episodes" there were MORE!

Trump and Son: The Hillary Episodes

Sorry to tear anyone away from the ethereal world of Stevie, but...
This is so simultaneously stupid and hilarious---whoever AI'd the Trump is a genius.

Fleetwood Mac: Tusk (1979 Official Music Video)

At the USC campus. Watch for Stevie Nicks and her baton-twirling skills!

Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac: The Green Manalishi (with the Two Prong Crown) (1970)

#10 on UK singles chart for 4 weeks in 1970.
Wikipedia entry.

A famous song, inspiring much debate on YouTube---"Old" vs. "New" Fleetwood Mac.
(As an anal former English major, I just wish it were "Two-Pronged" instead of "Two Prong" in the title.)

I've been listening to my one "old" Fleetwood Mac CD ("The Best of Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac"), and it's some really powerful music. I'm not particularly a blues OR metal fan, and this is a combination of both, but it's a very "groove-y" sort of vibe. The first thing I thought of when I started listening (most recently at 5pm on a week-night) was that this was the perfect CD (album) at age 18-28, at about 3 or 4 in the morning, after any extraneous guests have gone home and you're just sitting around with your closest friends, maybe in front of a fire (most apartments don't have fireplaces, but I pictured a fire going here, maybe a fire-pit), a joint being passed around, whiskey or brandy being sipped...and people listening more than talking, and going "Whoa" at various points of the music. (Peter Green wrote "Manalishi" while fucked up on LSD, and it was a scary experience for him personally. But we second-hand listeners/experiencers get the advantage of being removed from the actual psychosis.)

Peter Green founded Fleetwood Mac (named after his band-mates Mick Fleetwood and John McVie) in 1967, and left after 3 years. This was the last song he released with the band. His LSD use fried his brain, and he was subsequently institutionalized off-and-on for years, a la Syd Barrett.

A side-note: Stevie Nicks said that when she and Buckingham were invited to join the band in 1974, she went to the local Tower records and bought every Fleetwood Mac album they had and listened to them incessantly. One thread she found running through their earlier music and her own was a sense of "mysticism," she said. And I find that to be true. Nicks has a much more benevolent spirit in relation to Peter Green's darker LSD visions, but that doesn't make her visions any less meaningful or intense or truthful. (Nicks was herself a coke-head for many years, but her songs don't spew that dysfunction onto us listeners, unlike Green's music. You listen to "Manalishi" and think, like a young person or any other immature person removed from the actual experience: "Wow, how dark and bad-ass and cool." You want to sink to whatever level of hell he's retreated to, not yet recognizing the potential for any personal damage. Nicks, on the other hand, writes about being damaged but the potential for rising above it.)

 

 Funnily, one of the posters on YouTube in the old/new Fleetwood Mac argument also brought the Beatles into it, saying that John Lennon only wrote "simple ditties" and so couldn't compare to Peter Green! I countered that for LSD-addled paranoia, "I Am the Walrus" and "Day in the Life" and "Tomorrow Never Knows" and "She Said She Said" are as good as any. Although I admit that the Beatles never grooved like Fleetwood Mac or the Stones---not enough Id insanity (thank you Paul and Aunt Mimi).

Fleetwood Mac songs from "Mirage" (1982): Eyes of the World (Buckingham)

Fleetwood Mac songs from "Mirage" (1982): Hold Me (McVie)

Can you understand me
Baby, don't you hand me a line
Although it doesn't matter
You and me got plenty of time
There's nobody in the future
So baby let me hand you my love
There's no step for you to dance to
So slip your hand inside of my glove
Hold me, hold me, hold me
Hold me, hold me, hold me
I don't want no damage
But how'm I gonna manage with you
You hold the percentage
But I'm the fool payin' the dues
I'm just around the corner
If you got a minute to spare
I'll be waitin' for you
If you ever wanna be there
Hold me, hold me, hold me
Hold me, hold me, hold me

Fleetwood Mac songs from "Mirage" (1982): Empire State (Buckingham)

New York, open your eyes to me
Let me be what I want to be
Tell me, tell me it's not too late

Big Apple, takin' a bite of me
Whole world movin' below my feet
Not like, not like we do in LA

New York, make me a part of you
Straight, straight through the heart of you
Tell me, tell me it's not too late

Flying high on the empire state
Flying high on the empire state

New York, watch me burn ya down
Straight, straight through the heart of town
Tell me, tell me I'm not too late

Big Apple, takin' a bite of me
Whole world movin' below my feet
Not like, not like we do in LA

Flying high on the empire state
Flying high on the empire state

Fleetwood Mac songs from "Mirage" (1982): Gypsy (Nicks)

So I'm back, to the velvet underground
Back to the floor, that I love
To a room with some lace and paper flowers
Back to the gypsy that I was
To the gypsy... that I was
And it all comes down to you
Well, you know that it does
Well, lightning strikes, maybe once, maybe twice
Ah, and it lights up the night
And you see your gypsy
You see your gypsy
To the gypsy that remains 

Faces freedom with a little fear
I have no fear, I have only love
And if I was a child
And the child was enough
Enough for me to love
Enough to love
She is dancing away from me now
She was just a wish
She was just a wish
And a memory is all that is left for you now
You see your gypsy
You see your gypsy
Lightning strikes, maybe once, maybe twice
And it all comes down to you
And it all comes down to you
Lightning strikes, maybe once, maybe twice
And it all comes down to you
I still see your bright eyes, bright eyes
And it all comes down to you...

Fleetwood Mac songs from "Mirage" (1982): That's Alright (Nicks)

Meet me down by the railway station
I've been waiting
I'm through waiting for you
Train sings the same kind of blues

Well, I don't know why I always trusted
Sometimes I think that I must have
I must have been crazy
Crazy to wait on you, baby

Turned around and got pushed down, baby
Now I decided yesterday that I would leave you
I'm alright

Please, I've been takin' my time
You know, it's been on my mind
I hope you find a love
Your own designs of love
That's alright
That's alright

I believe, I believe that I know you
But we've been a long time
Now I've got to show you, that I
Well, I never did believe in time
You know, changin' anybody's mind

Now, I can't define love like it should be
That's alright
It's alright

Please, I've been takin' my time
You know, it's been on my mind
I hope you find a love
Your own designs of love
'Cause that's alright
Ooo yes, that's alright

Fleetwood Mac songs from "Mirage" (1982): Can't Go Back (Buckingham)

Standin' in the shadows
The man I used to be
I wanna go back
(can't go back, can't go back)
Melodies awaken
Sorrows from their sleep
I wanna go back
(can't go back, can't go back)

She was just a dream maker,
Dreamer of sighs
Shadow on the one who used to cry
A face as soft as a tear in a clown's eye
I wanna go back
(can't go back, can't go back)

She was just a dream maker,
Dreamer of sighs
Shadow on the one who used to cry
A face as soft as a tear in a clown's eye
I wanna go back
(can't go back, can't go back)

Uninformed (Stupid) Young People in a Nutshell

On a news thread about modern-day Iran:

Comment: generation Z will welcome the mullah's

My response: The same mullahs who will then behead you for being degenerates. p.s. There's no apostrophe in the plural of "mullahs." Did your "social-emotional learning" grade-school classes not teach you this?

From a UK website, re the Olden Days: What's happened?

In the "olden days," people who acted lawless and crazy were arrested and put away in either jails or mental hospitals. So that no one was walking around on the streets with machetes or guns, attacking others. Also in the "olden days," when you stole from a shop, you got arrested for it. And, yes, there was once a time when countries enforced their borders. What's happened?

Monday's Full Eclipse of the Sun

Last time a solar eclipse happened... 2017. Whooo! Sorry, but it would be more dramatic if it only happened every 500 or 1000 years or so. (As I later learned, the 2017 eclipse was only partial---so this one on Monday was the real thing!)

At my hairdresser's last Wednesday, she asked me what I was "doing for the eclipse"...

Me: "Um. I guess I'll go stand out in my backyard and watch it." (She was having friends over.) I then said to her, "Imagine if you were alive 1000 years ago, before science, and saw an eclipse and thought it was the end of the world!" She grunted and didn't say anything else to me about the topic...

A solar eclipse is not particularly interesting to me today, since we all know what it is, and when exactly it's going to happen. I mean, it's interesting enough for me to go out in my backyard and watch it... But I'm much more interested in how past peoples saw it and reacted to it, and how it shaped how they subsequently lived---it's a pretty dramatic thing to suddenly see the sky go black if you don't know what's happening! (If you saw it as a visitation from the gods, how does your life then go forward from that?)

p.s. During the TOTAL solar eclipse today (Monday the 8th), I was indeed standing out in my backyard by myself to watch it, and then the guy neighbor from across the way also came out, and the first thing he said to me: "Imagine if you saw this a thousand years ago!" :)  And the next thing we talked about was whether or not our cats were going to act strangely, as the TV had predicted animals would. :)  I was also proud of myself for knowing what a "corona" was after he pointed out that he saw a "solar flare."

It was mainly cloudy in Austin during all of this, but the clouds were intermittent, and I (we) got some momentarily exciting views during the whole process. It was nice chatting with this guy, and fun to hear loud group cheers from across Burnet Road, where both a middle school and high school are located. Obviously, the kids were out there watching.

Next Total Eclipse seen from the US: 2044.

"Dodsworth" (1936) -- Why considered so great?

I've been hearing for a very long time from all sorts of film critics and fans online about how great this film was. In the past, I'd only caught bits and pieces of it on TCM.

Background info from Wikipedia:
The film was critically praised and nominated for seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Actor for Huston, and Best Director for Wyler (the first of his record twelve nominations in that category), and won for Best Art Direction. In 1990, Dodsworth was included in the annual selection of 25 motion pictures added to the National Film Registry of the Library of Congress. being deemed "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant" and recommended for preservation. Dodsworth was nominated for AFI's 100 Years...100 Movies in 1997 and 2007.

Last night it was scheduled on TCM, and---since I'd been told by the world that I must know this film---I made a distinct effort to watch it from beginning to end without moving from my seat on the couch, except to light a cig every now and then.

TCM host Alicia Malone, along with her 2 guests (former TCM execs), stressed that the ending of the film was very important. OK, I'm on alert...

A wealthy Detroit car exec (Walter Huston) retires and sails for Europe at the behest of his restless wife (Ruth Chatterton). The badinage with their rich friends before they leave and the badinage on-board the ship is the same that I've seen in many a 1930s picture. This time, though, the wife really does have an affair (not just flirting) with a foreigner on-board---just as Dodsworth has excited conversations with a lone woman on-board (Mary Astor). His wife continues to have affairs with various playboys once they get to Europe. 

But her affairs are presented very glibly: A few pretty boys present themselves, and she goes out dancing with them, and then sulks when they break up with her. Mr. Dodsworth doesn't seem to pay much attention, until he does. At this point, he sails home to leave her to her European peccadilloes. Once he gets home, he bemoans the fact that his paper and drink aren't laid out each evening when he gets home, as his wife used to do... Disgruntled at home, he sails back to Europe to fetch his wife...

The Wife is still enamoured of a stereotypical Viennese playboy, whose mother rightly thinks she's too old for him... Since he's already there, Dodsworth decides to travel around Europe for 3 months, where he again runs in to Mary Astor at an American Express office and then promptly moves in with her. (She's much warmer than his wife.)

None of this is presented in any sort of mysterious way. Of course, since The Wife is so blatantly and continuously snotty and obnoxious, she's going to be left by her noble husband! I picked up on THAT "cue" within 15 minutes. Where was the subtlety and/or surprise? 

When the TCM hosts said to look out for the ending, I thought: "Oh no! Mary Astor is going to kill herself before Dodsworth comes back to her!" But no, the fact that he was coming back to her was already signaled long before when she was portrayed as "kind and understanding" while The Wife was portrayed as a shallow dummy. (The "watch the ending" meant only to watch how wildly and smilingly Astor waved to Dodsworth as his tiny boat sailed back in to her harbor---which any viewer could have already seen coming...)

Why all the nominations and awards? I have no idea. It's a very basically shot film, and the emotions of all involved are very pretty basically played. You kind of like the exuberant Dodsworth, and kind of dislike the shallow wife and her stereotypical shallow lovers, and kind of hope he'll end up with Mary Astor---which the film makes sure he does. It ends as it should, with no real emotion involved.

There's nothing at all at stake here. (Wife/Lovers/Dodsworth---all have their own money and their own ill-examined emotions and nobody will be tragically forsaken.) Hardly a "great" film!

STEVIE NICKS - EDGE OF SEVENTEEN (Original Video 1981)

The clouds never expect it
When it rains
But the sea changes colours
And the sea
Does not change


 

Just like the white-winged dove
Sings a song
Sounds like she's singin'
Whoo-whoo-whoo
Just like the white-winged dove
Sings a song
Sounds like she's singin'
Whoo, baby, whoo
Said, whoo

And the days go by
Like a strand in the wind
In the web that is my own
I begin again
Said to my friend, baby
Nothin' else mattered

He was no more
(He was no more)
Than a baby then
Well, he seemed broken-hearted
Somethin' within him
But the moment
That I first laid
Eyes on him
All alone on the edge of seventeen

Just like the white-winged dove
Sings a song
Sounds like she's singin'
Whoo, baby, whoo, whoo
Just like the white-winged dove
Sings a song
Sounds like she's singin'
Said, whoo, baby, whoo
Said, whoo

Well, I went today
Maybe I will go again
Tomorrow, yeah, yeah
Well, the music there
Well it was hauntingly familiar
When I see you doin'
What I try to do for me
With their words of a poet
And a voice from a choir
And a melody
Nothin' else mattered

Just like the white-winged dove
Sings a song
Sounds like she's singin'
Whoo, baby, whoo, said whoo
Just like the white-winged dove
Sings a song
Sounds like she's singin'
Said, whoo, baby, whoo
Said, whoo

The clouds never expect it
When it rains
But the sea changes colours
But the sea
Does not change
So with the slow graceful flow
Of age
I went forth with an age-old
Desire to please
On the edge of seventeen

Just like the white-winged dove
Sings a song
Sounds like she's singin'
Whoo, baby, whoo, said whoo
Just like the white-winged dove
Sings a song
Sounds like she's singin'
Whoo, baby, whoo
Said, whoo

Well then suddenly
There was no one left standing
In the hall, yeah, yeah
In a flood of tears
That no one really ever heard fall at all
When I went searchin' for an answer
Up the stairs and down the hall
Not to find an answer
Just to hear the call
Of a nightbird singin'
Come away
(Come away)
(Come away)

Just like the white-winged dove
(Just like the white-winged dove)
Sings a song
Sounds like she's singin'
Whoo, baby, whoo, said whoo
Just like the white-winged dove
Sings a song
Sounds like she's singin'
Whoo, baby, whoo
Said, whoo

Well, I hear you (well, I hear you)
In the morning (in the morning)
And I hear you (and I hear you)
At nightfall (at nightfall)
Sometime to be near you
Is to be unable to hear you
My love
I'm a few years older than you
(I'm a few years older than you)
My love

Just like the white-winged dove
Sings a song
Sounds like she's singin'
Whoo, baby, whoo
Said, whoo

Summer of '85 (Part One)

I went to college (UT Austin) in the Fall of '83. Lived in a dorm room. The first summer back home in Azle, in '84, was initially miserable, because Ginny had dumped me the previous fall. I had no one to talk to, was stuck way out in the country. BUT: That summer my mother took me and my brother to Germany for a few weeks. So, for the most part, it was a decent summer, despite my personal miseries.

The next summer (of '85) home in Azle after another year at college was terrible. This time, hardly any contact with Ginny at all---except one very weird evening when she'd mentioned to me on the phone that she'd be attending a local high-school play THAT HER GIRLFRIEND WAS IN. (She didn't say "her girlfriend," but I knew it was her girlfriend.) So what did I do? I drove to the fuckin' stupid high-school play and sat through it, and then hung around hopefully afterward waiting for Ginny to talk to me. She barely did. We were supposed to be still "friends" but we weren't. It was very awkward. (The stupid play, by the way, was The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds. Fuck you, Paul Zindel; fuck you, Cindy, for appearing in it. At some point during this summer, I did spend the night at Ginny's house, which she just invited me to out of politeness, I suppose. When she fell asleep, I, of course, went straight for her diary. Today, I only remember the beginning of one entry---a poem for the much-hated Cindy: "I write, you act..."

By July of '85, I couldn't stand another moment of being alone in Azle. With all the Ginny-misery, and after a fight with my mother (after weeks of her low-grade nastiness), I loaded up my Ford Pinto with my 16-inch TV and a few boxes; went to pick up my last paycheck at the K-Mart (without giving any notice; I'd worked at K-Mart for my last 2 years of high school, and that manager was nice, even giving me a job during the summer after my first year of college. The guy that took over later, though, was a creep, and I didn't give a shit about screwing him over); and took off for Austin. 

I'd only lived in pre-paid (by my mother and US Govt financial aid) dorm rooms for the past 2 years, so I didn't quite know how to go about getting an apartment once I arrived... I mean, I knew about the apartment ads in the local weekly, so I found an advertised 1-room furnished place near campus for $315 a month, and I met with the elderly landlady (who owned multiple properties around town) and signed papers... But, whoa! I had to have electricity turned on and stuff like that! Which would not happen for days. The landlady took pity on me, and let me stay for one night at another of her properties---a slightly better student-type apartment, a garage apartment, in West Austin, where I opened the windows and enjoyed the beautiful night air and bemoaned the fact that I could not afford the $400 per month---the to-me exorbitant extra $85 per month above my $310 budget that might have allowed me to live in a much more (to-me) beautiful place...