Seventy-two. I like the sound of it. Really getting up there. It’s not quite three in the morning. Tonight I ate a can of tunafish, and just now, two packages (4 total) of those fig bars I got at WF a couple of weeks back.
What America Means to Me, First of a Series (mashup of Marion Power Shovel pictures, TH Benton and Hogarth)
I know what I’ll do tomorrow. Run in the park. Jog. Jog/walk as much as ten miles. It will wear me out but break the no-run spell. It’s been ten fucking years. Though up to about 2018 I made attempts but found myself fagged at a quarter mile. You know why? Because I had a whole elaborate warmup procedure. At my age I need a half-hour warm up. That’s a walk, slow-shuffle, stretch, jog, stretch. Very very easy jog then for me.
Meant to hit First Friday Mass at St P’s. Didn’t. Got involved in something mighty important on FB. Maybe the AI comic illustrations. Looked at the time and it was 5:30.
There are still dishes in the sink. But I did put the trash out, mostly. Headache and lying on bed most of the day (Friday). Why you think? I drank a pint last night, first time in some days. I also, incredibly, went back to the boo pipe, scraped it, and also found a few minuscule crystals at the bottom of the St. Sebastian’s box. I got a few half-decent hits. Two nights ago. Up most of the next day. Finally polished off the Buckley bio review and sent it in last night (Thurs) around 9. About 5000 words. Ungainly. As a hook I lead with the USPS ‘Forever’ stamps coming out on Tuesday, with an unrecognizable Bill.
Wednesday I was supposed to set up and marshal a special “Wunna Gunna” 5k in PP, but I was very ill. Fever of 102º-103º in the middle of the night. Dreadful. My fault. I went and got a flu vax at CVS on Tuesday. That did it for me. I did it for Anchor, but no Anchor work for me now, not this week, and I’ll miss the money and the pay for the race. So I’m out like $400 that I won’t get.
New St. Jude novena objective is now just, get a fucking job. You have a couple of shitty part-time jobs.
Paul Wood in Romania just wished me HBD on FB. Today (Fri) he told a story of how his granddad worked at the War office for a Mr Burgess. One day Mr Burgess didn’t show up and it turned out he’d fled to Moscow. Utter nonsense, of course, except that granddad may well have known someone at War who knew Burgess at the FO. I hypothesized that when Burgess disappeared he went to Washington. The London-Moscow hop happened nearly a year later.
Have not paid rent or electricity, but I can manage to do that now. Next few days. I should have anywhere from $350 to $500 hitting me by next Friday. And I’ll be applying for grownup jobs. Anything to bring in $2000 or more net every four weeks. That’ll do it. And bothering Social Security again, dire need. Call them Monday, Tuesday.
Started to watch Citizen Kane the other day. It’s not really that good. I had it for 48 hours. Is it still available? (Fumbles with remote.) Oh it’s still up. Orson Welles looking across the breakfast table at Ruth Warwick. So I have another few hours on this. Now Jedediah (Joseph Cotten) in the old folks’ solarium is talking to the reporter. Flashback to first meeting with Susie Alexander.
