aging · Authors · Books · Craft · Disaster · Diversions · Fiction · Literacy

La Peste and other readings

There are 25 minutes left until the end, but I am stuck on Fr Paneloux. He is now dead, but I think he was suffering a crisis of faith. He came out and told the people they deserved the plague because their faith was tepid, more letter than spirit, if you will.

The bugger goes and dies, refusing the care of Dr Rieux, throwing up something red before his passing. Wonder if it was his doubt…

This got me thinking about the crazy evangelical rapturists. If you so in love with Jesus, go to him. Don’t sit and wish evil upon the land that you might be among the preordained number of the saved to witness the horror before being taken…up. Good Lord, what a morning.

I have been distracting myself from finishing the reading by contemplating the development of my Southern Gothic writers in my virtual library. Completely forgot about Eudora, so acquired thirteen of her stories. Made a stab at Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying as there has to be an antidote to Sanctuary. I may watch Cat on a Hot Tin Roof for a wonderful escape into Tennessee’s brand of SG. Have to see if any of Flannery’s stories are offered, maybe through the libraries. Some of her stories have been turned into film.

Also picked up Heavy by Kiese Laymon. It reads like SG, but isn’t fiction.

I will finish The Plague today.

aging · AS · Books · Craft · Diversions · Health and wellness · observations · social observation · Therapeutics

A Good Day

I found the new Phryne Fisher movie on AcornTV through Prime Video. I confess a great fondness for the adventures of Phryne and Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. Phryne has a very healthy sexual appetite, uses a diaphragm, flies a plane, is polyglot, dances tango, has a diverse set of friends, and always looks like she just stepped out of a band box even after being pulled from quicksand! I adore Phryne. I can watch her for no additional charge for 30 days. I’m going to enjoy myself some more for my birthday.

Birthdays are to be celebrated for an entire month. They should be danced in and danced out, as with death. There must always be dancing.

Reading a most hideous book by Willie Faulkner, who was a dark and dirty guy! Jeez, Sanctuary is a wreck of a story. Good competition for reality.

Got some beautiful cotton yarn today. I imagined I’d make myself a blanket, but maybe a dress or skirt.

Actually had a really positive time on Twitter. Lots of fun watching people think Patrick of TX should fuck off or lead the way to the gas chambers because he thinks seniors, grandparents should be willing to die for the Dow. What a putz.

Then, there’s the Hate Yam and his ill-advised and ill-considered desire to get the economy rolling again. He cares not a whit for anyone, ya know it? He seems to be running scared. I want to see the showdown between him and the States if he tries to override the lockdowns to send people back to work, vulnerable to the virus.

Have you seen what has to be done to try and treat the pneumonia that results from the virus infiltrating the lungs? Haven’t worked in hospital in a long time, so I was fascinated with the gear that looks like a bubble, placed over the head of the patient, pumped with O2, to attempt to equalize the pressure in the lungs. I read something that said just before things really go south, patients bring up a pink froth or foam. That’s bubbling up from the infiltrated lungs. Next comes high fever, then unconsciousness. I couldn’t unsee that post, though I tried.

The day started off particularly well when I saw people proposing a general strike if the Hate Yam wanted to send people back to work against the advice of public health medical professionals. He must be unfamiliar with the 1918 Spanish Flu. That spread because people refused to follow admonitions from public health officials to not gather in crowds. The people had a parade to welcome the returning soldiers home. The rest is history.

I found I, Claudius on AcornTV. This is my last bit of advertising. I love I, Claudius as much, or more, than I do Phryne, but for different reasons. I don’t watch much television because I can’t stand the commercials. Always selling crazy sounding drugs for ailments they try to convince you you have. Ridiculous. But there are movies and documentaries, theatrical productions, and music that I can access through a tv, and I’m grateful for the entertainment and company sans commercials.

A little reading, a little social media, a little creative craft planning, new yarn, and I am well.

Thanks for reading. Hope you had a good day, too.

aging · Craft · death · friendship · observations · Religion · Sexualities · social observation

Type, Don’t Write – Take 2

The wind is high. Already, several tree limbs have hit the house. The first one was slender, showed signs of termites, hollow inside, ripe for being blown down.

Anxiety. What good would it do to call the insurance company? The tree should have been removed instead of my home. What good would it do to call the contractor who botched this job royally? I hope he used my claim funds for something worthwhile, like curing HIV/AIDS or the Oval Occupier.

Women are under attack, but they have always been under attack. We are not counted among those created equal. It is no accident that only men are mentioned. Just like it is no accident that God is allegedly a male. That’s sex. I never thought God had a sex. What need of sex has God? When the myth got started that Jesus was God, I lost all interest in Christian religions. I know they’re gonna be struck by something and I don’t want to get smote.

The Old Testament God was angry, jealous, would tear shit up, or inflict horrors on pretty innocent people. At least, I understand this God. He’s petty.

With the New Testament we throw out the petty God and claim Jesus is God and his son. That’s some hellified double relationship. God made a baby who was Himself. A woman was used.

Women constantly get used. I’m ’bout fed up with that. But women find it difficult to stand together. Wasn’t always this way, but it seems to be the case today. Maybe it’s generational. Women were in competition for men, so they were bitchy to one another. Let a woman get a man and she will abandon her women friends in a combination New York/LA minute. Cisness is death to women friendships.

My best friends were always lavender ladies. They know how to party. They know how to be quiet and comfortable together. They know how to be friends. I wish everyone was multisexual, especially the Christians.

Why do Christians have so much interest in other folks’ naughty bits? Why are they always trying to make women have babies they can’t care for? Why don’t they have as much care for the living as they do for the “pre-born”? I’d like to see a 6 week foetus survive on its own, no machines, nada. Just pretend it is born.

What happened to procreation being a job for two? If the women are being penalized for getting pregnant, why aren’t the men who impregnated them getting some sort of punishment? Punitive. That’s what Christians are. They are sadistic and mean.

Of course, there are sadistic and mean people everywhere in America. They exist in every religion, every ethnicity, every age group, every sex. But Christians, maybe evangelical Christians stand out for their love of death. They would rather see you dead than not believe the way they do.

I don’t know about this type, don’t write thing. I get to saying stuff I think but don’t say. I don’t like confrontation. I don’t like hurting other people. However, there is more room out than in. So, there you go.

aging · AS · Craft · Homeless People · observations · Religion

Type, Don’t Write

All sorts of info, directive filters into my headspace. The title is a result of this seepage. Either I read this dictate, saw it in passing on television, likely in an ad, or it was splashed at me through subliminal advertising. Who knows?

Doing so many things in a day. Ramadan always calls for a period of adjustment, generally a turning around of activity. Eating and drinking can go on during the night, but dawn sees the resumption of the fast. Day is now for contemplation. Night is for getting things done.

Night offers quiet. Getting things done must be accomplished in quiet. It is a blessing. It is calming. It is a refuge from the surrounding madness. The homeless remain, increasing in number. What need have I for pictures when the blind cannot see them? Mummy could ignore a lot of things because she was deaf in one ear. Ceaseless drips from a faucet set my teeth on edge.

Type, don’t write. Need to read more Faulkner and O’Connor. 1955 was a significant year. Read Faulkner’s coverage of the Kentucky Derby of 1955 in Sports Illustrated. Got no need for sports, but I do love horseracing. So many Black men built that sport. Built the South. Built the nation. But The Misfit runs the nation right now. Flannery said so.

The recitation continues. May your Ramadan bear fruit.

Craft · Religion

Laminate Floors are Slippery

For Ramadan, I’ve been making socks as I listen to recitations of the Qu’ran and think about the fate of the world. Ramadan is an excellent time for reflection. It is a discipline that promotes self-restraint as well as an opportunity for self-knowledge in relation to the world. Immersion in the recitations is a shield from the world which is why I had no knowledge of the STEM school shooting in Colorado until this minute. We really need to understand what it is we, as a culture, are doing to produce these mad and angry people. We need to understand why we, as a culture, continue to tolerate these assaults on our children, on all people. What is our individual contribution to the lawlessness, hatred, intolerance that plagues us.

In my home, I had hardwood floors so I never realized that the materials of which I make socks interacted with the flooring to encourage or halt sliding. The structure I currently occupy has laminate floors. Acrylic yarns slide on this flooring. Alpaca does not. Not only am I trying to memorize this pattern, I am also experimenting with different types of yarn to discover which are safest for the socks. First was alpaca, second was acrylic, next is cotton.

Ramadan Mubarak!

AS · Community · Craft · observations · social observation

Casting Back

No, this isn’t about knitting, though that is my world nowadays. No, this is about remembering, triggered memory. Read the name Owen and cast back to my neighbors, the Owens. Large family, all varying shades of mocha with the exception of the only son, Anthony. I secretly adored his handsome chocolate brown frame. It was never curious to me that he was the only brown child; it was marvelous. I wonder if he ever experienced discrimination because of the lovely color of his dark brown skin.

In southern India, I saw the most beautiful dark brown people with glistening black hair. Gorgeous! Then, I learned they were as colour-struck as American Blacks and used terms like “wheatish” to describe the most desirable skin colour. Dalits I met were universally brown-skinned. The women and men who tended my household, bathroom, and garden were universally brown. The owner of the flat was that wheatish color I first encountered reading Indian newspaper personal ads. Wonder what causes wheatishness? Black people have white folks in slavery to thank for some of our wheatishness, as well as for the concept of colour-struck in American culture.

Considering such castings cause me to take refuge in my knitting. I’m not a writer, Yann! I’m a maker, an artisan, a handcrafter, a sample maker. Mom was a sample maker. There are entire businesses devoted to the making of samples. I saw one recently featured onĀ NHK. Sample makers typically make the first draught of a pattern, testing theory as it happens. If everything is good, only one sample is needed. If more work is needed, revisions, and additional samples will be made. I like making one or two of a thing, then off to a new project. I have a research scientist’s ability to focus intently on a topic for a long while, but I have a child’s curiousity and want to explore many things, hence the making of one or two gloves, or pattern tests, or blog posts, then it is off to a new project.

Anthony. One of his sisters was a doctor. Another worked in the university system. They were a good family. I hope all is well with them.