Saturday, 16 February 2019

The Favourite

I shunned this movie, because I kind of resented the Oscars snubbing Toni Collette for her work in Hereditary, a film I'm quite fond of, though I've not seen all of it, and thought people will downvote Roma as a frontrunner simply for not watching it, being a foreign film and all. I didn't think this will be very good, I assumed it will be crazy rich women being shitty wicked to one another. 

I was right. They are. 
It's very good. The women are amazing in it. I really really liked it. 

Friday, 15 February 2019

Which part of your life, do you suppose, I should envy?

Me dad, back in the day, had this thing for trying out different 'low' jobs, for three reasons. One, he was curious and wanted to learn new skills; two because he then wrote articles about them and people he met and three, probably bit subconsciously, because he wanted to see what those who knew him would say/do. (He'd be a miner, a chimney sweep, etc...) One of such jobs was shining shoes at the train station. He told me that when his peers saw him, they'd smirk and talk down on him. He even tried being a beggar once and said he was called everything but human.

Someone from one of my previous lives came to my dollar store today. Someone well off, wearing very nice clothes, driving a new Audi, some legal clerk position in Brussels or something. Very nice hair, well maintained. They told me I looked better with a camera around my neck and if this is where I ended up?

Later, while sweeping the floor, my feet killing me, my pockets full of stray marbles and beads, I wondered, honestly, what do they think (I did not have the heart to tell them the truth), exactly, they have when they come to their house at the end of the day, that I should envy?

Do they have more books than me? More poetry? More notebooks FOR poetry? Better music? Better movies? Bigger and faster computer to play stupid video games that make them brainlessly happy? More lamps for their camera corner, a better camera? A bigger studio with more paints and canvases at a ready for the summer inspiration to come knocking? More inks and pigments and paper - the materials I favor to all others in the world? Is their dog dumber than mine and cats more retarded? Would I drink wine, do they think I would not have fine wine? Are my walls not set with art, my windows not large and bright enough, my floor not old wood enough and my ceilings not fifteen feet high enough?

Hm. Well. Maybe. Here is what awaits me at the end of each daily story, when I walk through the door. (Actually, the General has only failed once to 'surprise' pick me up from work and even then he stayed with me on the phone the whole time while I walked the long street, as if we live in fucking Beirut or something.) There is going to be dinner for me in the fridge and some bonus yummy on my work desk, candy or a cookie or my favorite yogurt or something. The deepest, clearest intelligent voice is going to ask me how my day was, tell me how his day was and we will talk about folly and philosophy, bullshit and politics and sexy nonsense. Largest, warmest hands will touch my face and hair and hands and the behemoth of a man, that massive blacksmith's body, a warrior farmer, will hold me and grab my boobs. He may read for an hour or so and I'll nap beside him, listening to the pages turn, and he'll caress my hair meanwhile, playing with my lashes and ears and collarbone. If he can restrain himself, we'll get to the bed and do fun things there, or he won't hold back and he'll just pound me brainless from behind on the sofa. We may watch a movie or play Warcraft or I'll write and he'll watch YouTube tutorials on how to bushcraft or make sharp weapons in an at-home shop.

Which part of this can be improved upon, mm? That a Brussels job and an expensive haircut would improve upon? A new Audi instead of an old Mitsubishi? High-heel shoes instead of hiking shoes? Pretty clothes instead of cargo pants and windbreaker? A vase of expensive flowers in the middle of the table as opposed to a shitload of crafting material piled on a desk? Tell me again what they have that I should envy so? They travel more? I traveled enough for three lifetimes. What beauty has their eyes caught that mine would not? Because I cannot think of three things I would want to change about my existence. And not two of those are achievable with a little bit of planning and a shitload of sunblock.

I am now certain - dad was right - dollar stores are good for the soul. :P

Sunday, 10 February 2019

    Supposedly there is an 18th century Bologna recipe for watercolors that's top of the market ... So whom do I have to sell my dog's firstborn to get that recipe? 
Hey, we had purse inspection in my dollar-store workplace. That felt unusually invasive ...
         One of the inspections against us is an unannounced showing up of an overseer late at night, after we've already closed everything: we start rolling down the gate and the overseer comes into the scene. We have to return inside, all the registers are checked again, all the books and we have to show the contents of our purses. I am amazed by that every time, since we are not really allowed to approach the customers about thieving, we are in fact discouraged to even be on the lookout for probable shoplifters, even though we find evidence (empty boxes and whatnot) by the dozens every day. But cashiers, we are to have our purses inspected. At least on the boat, they were looking for firearms and explosives, which made sense. Here they just seem to look for more ways to degrade the workers. 
          Guess how many people think that is normal? 

Monday, 4 February 2019

Inks and pigments and sketchbooks, oh my...

Touching a wee bit on the subject of my future passion project ... so far I don't like most of the stuff I touch, but slowly, I hope to  ... well, snail crawl out of the fucking depression, as it were. I worked on the logo some, some on the label, I did some bullshit promos which I posted on the so far dormant Insta site ... the one thing that I do look forward to, someday when I have two nickels to rub together, is purchasing the chemicals. Found a local site with most of the stuff I require. I have no idea on the quality of the pigments, but that's tested easily enough. Soon, snail, soon.

... I keep thinking ... how ardently I try to convince the General of these projects... Then I wonder why do I need to convince anyone of what I choose to direct my creativity towards and, all in all, do with my own money? .. but then I remember I have no sense of the reality of my own and if G says it sounds legit, it's legit. If he is not convinced, then clearly I am nowhere near ready to believe (in) it myself.

Friday, 1 February 2019

Wild Wild Country

Trying to watch the documentary about an Oregon cult farm ... But it's just too messed up. I actually saw quite a few really good docs and some that were said to be great but were not bad, and I skipped some bad ones, starting with Shane Dawson's Tanacon shitshow explanation (he later made a series about Jake Paul, but that was really bad, basically just bullshit clickbait allegations and looking into the camera all the time with an utterly shocked/appalled expression, regardless of what the scene in the footage was about). Then I watched Won't You be my Neighbour, RBG, American vandal Season 2, a couple of Fyre docs and a bunch of stuff on YouTube about random famous people. All of that stuff was really cool. Especially wide shots of nice places, before and after. I only don't like it when shitty people do shitty things and get away with it. That unnerves me and leaves me angry.

I think people hate cults for two reasons. One - how can people be so utterly retarded as to behave like that, I will never understand. You are grown men and women, for crying out loud, and that's how you behave? Listen to shit like that, talk shit like that, act that way and not be ashamed of yourselves? Ye, cultists prey on rich, miserable people, there's never a shortage of those. But are you fucking kidding me? 

And mostly, the main reason, is because cultists can go from quirky/vegan to full-blown homicidal/suicidal lunatics on a whim of their two-faced profiteering leaders. Leaders run away in their private jets, whereas a bunch of freaks in uniformed dresses kill themselves and all their children. Every religion does terrible, terrible things and everyone knows them and does nothing about it. Cults are that much worse because they rub it in everyone's face, bragging: "there's nothing anyone can do about it. It's our right to act like crazies, because we're rich and miserable!" 

Thursday, 31 January 2019

Oh, hey, first sex in nine days. Nothing to write on the blog about, everything is still impossibly uncomfortable (the fun parts are too dry and not elastic enough, the rest of the body is tired and sore all over), but y'know, it's a start. That's why G refuses to sleep in the bed. He's not much for holding back. Let's give it another day or two. I get the papers tomorrow and the day after, I'm planning on going for a short walk. On the plus side, I almost finished the Elf sex crime chapter. Bit of a transition from suspense to revelation missing, though it is a nice anti-climax, just how I like them, but other than that it's ready for the grammar peppering. (Where I change the simple words with pretentious fancy words from the little notebook of fancy pretentious words I keep, writing them down as I find them.) 

Tuesday, 29 January 2019

- one - week - later -

It's Tuesday, right? One week from when the symptoms first presented. They poked and prodded me today again, and I got the results, which were very good: all but the viruses has been fixed. Even the flu's subsided, now I just have some rogue rhinovirus catching the last train out.

This thoroughly answers my question on how come people only have one disease at a time - how do diseases know their turn to strike? I was always under the impression that humans carry plenty of ticking bombs within. Well, now I know.

There's a downside to being as healthy and resilient as I am. The way doctor suggested, I got pneumonia first, or a bad cold first, but that didn't manifest, and then I got another infection, possibly the bladder, UTI, which kind of lingered, but never developed, then I got my period and had the fight at work, which shook the immune system, and then that lady with the flu happened.

Once the flu hit, floodgates came down and BAM. EVERYTHING that's been ready to have a go, went. The only thing I didn't have was a common cold. I think I have that now. Or at least some mild laryngitis, that works more on the neck than the nose area. But the blood is fine. And lungs no longer feel like an accordion full of honey.

Course I now no longer have any real muscles - other than those from coughing - left and almost no stamina to speak of. I need new shows and to start doing small treks again. all over again, from the get-go.

Doctor said: You did good. You'll be fine in no time.
          I said: Ye, thanks to you and Dr. Flemming*. How would this work without penicillin?
Doctor said: It would ... take a little longer.

* I know it's not really Dr. Flemming who "discovered" penicillin, it was plenty of other people before him, publishing plenty of other studies, but they were not white or old or rich enough to matter. Doesn't matter now. I'm really glad they did. For a couple of days, whenever something new started to go wrong with me, I just thought: tough. Like I'll notice.