Blithering of the Damned

Well, it is almost the last day here at our local town library. The library will be closing soon for renovations, alas. I came in feeling very irked, mostly because any time I spend a significant amount of minutes in this hell town I end up feeling like I'm losing my mind. Not to mention that you deal with only two sets of people here in Peyton Place, snobby white fuckers who think a bad day is when Starbucks is out of latte foam, or else pissed off minorities who hate the snobby white fuckers. Me, I'm a white fucker, but of the kinder variety, and hey, it's all good, especially after a few Cosmopolitans.

Speaking of that, there is an interesting section in Maureen Dowd's Are Men Necessary in which Monica Lewinsky, she of The Blowing of the President fame, strides around some D.C. bar sipping a Cosmopolitan. She spies Dowd and hisses at her for writing "nasty" things about her in her column. Why did you do it? she demands. Dowd is left more or less speechless, finally coming up with, "I don't know." It's an interesting little story, as Dowd describes her as having "blazing confidence" and then writes that later that night Lewinsky apparently had a meltdown in the bathroom with her publicist. While on the obligatory cell phone, of course. What I have never understand about the sordid impeachment tale (and a most unncessary one to my way of thinking) is why Lewinsky told Linda Tripp about it in the first place. I guess it was too juicy a tale not to?? And then I am left speechless pondering why Tripp told anyone at all -- allegedly to protect herself, as I recall. But wouldn't staying silent have been the most protection of all? I am confused here, people. Any thoughts? Or maybe it's all water under the bridge. I think it was just a disgusting episode in history, especially with the infamous stained dress and the way Ken Starr acted as the morality police. Clinton didn't exactly comport himself well, either. All in all a sorry little blip on the historical radar screen.

So, Dowd's book is very good, if you are interested in finding out if men are necessary. Methinks they are, although the Y chromosome is on the decline, my sweets, and in a hundred thousand years or so (my number may be way off) men may disappear entirely. A planet ruled entirely by women, hmm! I guess we'd all have to become lesbians whether or not we felt inclined, or would sexual orientation automatically change as well? What a fascinating scenario!

Ah, well. You can see it's been a bit of a day for me. I hope you're having a better one. The sun is shining nicely though, and I got to eat, which is always a plus. Some folks did not, and that's a fact. Now I sound like your mother, guilt engineering you into eating your peas.

Eat your peas, folks. Then eat some chocolate.

Be well, and give hell.

Just a Little Post

How's that for a title, my hungry young philanthropists? For, of course you are!

I am wasting time at the library. I am good at that these days. And of course I am doing the "hindsight is twenty/twenty" thing, because if I had waited just one minute more for the bus I could have gone downtown to get coffee. Then, I would have seen the phone call from my friend Maggie (all of you should be blessed with a cool friend named Maggie -- I love that name!). Then she would have mentioned the poetry group that was meeting, and I would have said hey, babe, I'm downtown, can I come? And, because she lives downtown, she woulda said, sure, and I would have had something fun to do. As it is, I went and fed my stomach in the uncomfortable environment of McDonald's, which prominently posts signs asking you to please get the hell out in thirty minutes. Now I'm here, having absolutely no fun whatsoever! Life sucks. I need some fun, I sure as shit do, people. Perhaps I can convince my friends that we need to go to the beach -- seeing the ocean just once this summer would be very lovely, indeed.

Lest you think my life is very spoiled -- ah, if only you knew! But it's OK, gentle reader of mine. I know that you are one of the very good souls out there in the universe, striving to make it a better place.

I don't know about you, but I slept horribly last night. I dreamt about my younger brother, who is a permanent resident of the mental health system, and in this dream he was himself again. It was a nice but sad dream, and I woke up feeling like I wanted to go back into it. I think some wise Chinese guy posed this question, something like am I a man dreaming about a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a man? I know I just screwed that up, but maybe you get the gist anyway. It was probably Confucius (sp), he of fortune cookie fame. In fact I have a very bright acquaintance named Brian who carries around some book with Confucius' sayings in them. Some of them are actually worth pondering.

What else, what else? I rented The Changeling this past week. If you like old-fashioned ghost stories, I recommend this one. It's probably one of the scarier movies I've seen, plus it's fun. And it has that rascal himself, George C. Scott. I have a big ol'crush on George C. Scott. His eyes, his voice, that great laugh -- ah, now there was a man. Sigh. Too bad we didn't cross generations.

Oh yes, Suri Cruise evidently exists. I'm kind of disappointed, because the rumor floating around that the kid actually does not exist is too delicious for words. I mean, can you imagine anyone being that desperate for attention? Good ol'Tom, what are we to do with you? Rent "Top Gun", I guess!

My dear readers, whoever you may be (I'm thinking nil these days, but you never know -- if you're still out there, add a comment for goodness sakes! It would mean so much to me!), I will let you go. Into the night, into the woods, into the last of this summery stretch of overly hot days. May you be blessed, especially with copious amounts of ice tea.

Until we blog again.