Saturday, 13 October 2018

Movies update, today's stuff

Watched Whitney, the autobiography about a sad, ill-fated singer/actress, that makes you really glad you're not even remotely talented in any sense,


and First Man, a two hour 20 minutes pic about Neil Armstrong, who was - albeit magnificently shot - such a depressing fucking downer, so passive (how those two managed to bang up three children is beyond me) and at times intently miserable, I kid you not, I had to go home and watch


Baywatch just to feel a need to live again. Fucking Baywatch. It was the furthest I could find from First Man.


Wednesday, 10 October 2018

Wet webs. Will try to make a series "broken necklaces" - because October fog














Sexy funny line of the week for G

   Me: "I'm sorry you got bored in the middle of sex, I just sometimes feel like I'm having an ocean of joy washing over me like warm oil, and I don't want to move, I don't want to breathe, I don't want to think, I just feel and ooze the moment out into infinity. When I am feeling that good, I simply have no desire to rush anywhere, or even to allow time to pass at its normal speed. You did everything perfect, so I'm sorry it got a bit uneventful there for you in the middle."
       G: "Which middle? The first hour and a half middle or the second hour and a half middle?"

Friday, 5 October 2018

Uu, saw a kingfisher today. Not my photo, but these little fuckers are hard to miss. It may be the third or second time I've seen one. I feel like a total twitcher. :D


Can't sleep, the hour is 2:34 in the morning. Sometimes making love in the middle of the night wakes me up so completely I spend the next hour writing smutty science fiction, then another surfing the net for wonderful things like photos of autumn woods and pumpkin pie recipes, then some more writing. It’s been a weird couple of days, creativity-wise. I have so many photos left to edit (since freaking August.) all I do is go out at daybreak and take pictures of fog. The gloomy, angsty tones of my prose need dire upgrade, I always forget this is supposed to be comedy, so the more I slide towards the bleak midwinter, the harder I require brain to yearn the colour orange and trippy cinnamon. We’ve had a week of bad internet – the General is on bedrest, so even books, sex and food weren’t going to cut it for long to keep him patient – and for the money we pay for it, he was so insistent we’ve had more craftsmen in the house, trying to locate the problem, than ever before for anything. Cats were so happy :D  Don’t forget ours is not a house to have simple problems. Simple problems G is well able to fix on his own. This was a five electrical engineers type of a situation. It started when lightning knocked the modem settings off, so instead of bothering to re-set it, they just gave us a new modem. But we’ve had this dance before – it seems fine for about a day, then stops working completely for 24 hrs. Then someone comes and pokes around a bit and it works on and off for a few days. Then it only works one way – super upload and zero down or vice versa. More people came, blaming the cable leading up to the house. It makes sense, because those are a joke. Like rats laid it, over and under every other line and construction, splicing half, losing half on the way, patching it back up with tape and denial. Next new people came and measured the line in the house, saying there’s the problem. But that one is new. Okay, so maybe someone is stealing the wifi? Neup, that was checked, too. How about problematic computer? No, that was completely cleaned two months ago. Hm. What else, then, could it be? Too many gadgets? No, that’s why it’s so costly. Location? Neup, we live downtown. Bad router? No, we use wires for that reason. What else, what else?
                It was a system glitch in their distribution center. Now we know.

                As a result, I have begun to paint and draw a little, for what could potentially mean I’ll be going to another winter street fair. Maybe. But I have been inspired to go. It can be terrific fun, if you don’t count the frost, rain, lack of restrooms, stingy customers, depressing treatment by the organizers, long hours, lonely afternoons and small reward (unless you sell booze or AliExpress hats and gloves.). Other than that, for all the coffee friends bring you, street chat, cultural activity and meeting new people, especially other people on the stands and the wonderful stuff they sell sometimes, or trade with you, it’s lovely.  

Wednesday, 3 October 2018

Autumn coming to town ....






Kicked out of a writing group on FB

Took them less than a day to ban me, but I do realise now I did it for being jealous. I think. I suppose, I can't be sure. I just know that there were people there calling themselves writers who posted questions such as: How do I start the first chapter? How do I develop a character - google is not being much help? A ghetto guy trying to write like a cracker, he all but ended his lines with I do declare. Wanna be street, be street, damn it. Anyway. It was really really bad. I trolled for almost an hour without breathing. I hated them, because I knew for a fact those will grow up to become the future ... whatever the fat chick who wrote Fifty shades, or the ex model who wrote Twilight are ... Rich and famous. Heck, they even banned one of my comments on instagram, though I can't be sure which one :D Probably something to do about India or Pakistan. The places where they're still figuring out human rights and indoor plumbing, 28.000 years of civilisation later. 

On a related note, Venom and The Happy Prince are out, both bad. I need good Tom hardy stuff, I'll have to rewatch Dunkirk and Mad Max and the like. The Oscar Wilde flick, well... I know now, when people say Bosie treated him abominably ... I call bullshit. They were adults. Wilde needed to suffer. We needed him to write such terribly cruel books about him. How DID Bosie end up, by the way? I'm sure I once knew. Google might help. 

Monday, 1 October 2018

Timi's boxing debut




























Kids boxing

Did not enjoy this, I found it obscene how adult men would cheer little girls to break each-others faces, but I suppose if your head is thick and empty, one might as well use it for a punching bag. We were there to cheer on my nephew's debut match. Ye, I saw Creed hundred fucking times. I still think of all the sports to celebrate a human athletic prowess and dedication, one where blood flies all around the ring is the least noble.