Entry tags:
Yet Another Lost Weekend.
Not the classic Ray Milland movie, which is fantastic, and if you have a classic movie house near you, request it. Ray Milland, Jayne Wyman, and one of the first movies to address the issue of alcoholism head-on. It won Best Picture, Best Director (Billy Wilder, who was a genius), Best Actor (Ray Milland), and Best Adapted Screenplay (Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett). As a big fan of classic cinema, this is a gut punch.
No, this is more about the song Talk To You Later by San Francisco's own The Tubes. I was lucky enough to see them when their stage shows were spectacles.
But anyway.
I planned to finish some writing this weekend, but deferred apartment maintenance overwhelmed me. Our recycling bags were overflowing. The dishes still need to be done, and I'm still not entirely over my pneumonia, and of course, Kirsten is battling cancer and COVID at the same fucking time. We may schedule me for a nose tickle, even though this all feels like it is in the fever swamp that is the lower quarter of my lungs.
Did you know you have something in your lungs called the pulmonary toilet? It's a drain in your lower lungs that clears mucus you can't normally expel. Sucks to be me; my lower lungs are such shit (seriously, I love it when new doctors list to the Rice Krispies I call my lower alveoli, alveolar ducts, and bronchioles...).
So I can't muster enough force to clear this unless I am lying down, which means I've gone to bed every night for most of the summer and spent fifteen minutes coughing. Joy.
We did get a grocery order in (Kirsten still can't go out, and I am not allowed alone in stores with beer), so we have plenty of soup. I'm a bit upset that after seeing it on the website as available, we got told this was not in stock. But it appears to be at my local liquor store! Don't worry; this is a beer I will only drink with a big meal after a day of filling my belly.
I have a good outline and a start on the next K'kree article, and I will probably spend some time dredging up my notes on making the Third Imperium more like 4th Century Rome than a Western Federal Republic.
The Giants won today, and the 49ers looked terrible, but it's the preseason, and I'm drinking Budweiser.
Don't judge me.
No, this is more about the song Talk To You Later by San Francisco's own The Tubes. I was lucky enough to see them when their stage shows were spectacles.
But anyway.
I planned to finish some writing this weekend, but deferred apartment maintenance overwhelmed me. Our recycling bags were overflowing. The dishes still need to be done, and I'm still not entirely over my pneumonia, and of course, Kirsten is battling cancer and COVID at the same fucking time. We may schedule me for a nose tickle, even though this all feels like it is in the fever swamp that is the lower quarter of my lungs.
Did you know you have something in your lungs called the pulmonary toilet? It's a drain in your lower lungs that clears mucus you can't normally expel. Sucks to be me; my lower lungs are such shit (seriously, I love it when new doctors list to the Rice Krispies I call my lower alveoli, alveolar ducts, and bronchioles...).
So I can't muster enough force to clear this unless I am lying down, which means I've gone to bed every night for most of the summer and spent fifteen minutes coughing. Joy.
We did get a grocery order in (Kirsten still can't go out, and I am not allowed alone in stores with beer), so we have plenty of soup. I'm a bit upset that after seeing it on the website as available, we got told this was not in stock. But it appears to be at my local liquor store! Don't worry; this is a beer I will only drink with a big meal after a day of filling my belly.
I have a good outline and a start on the next K'kree article, and I will probably spend some time dredging up my notes on making the Third Imperium more like 4th Century Rome than a Western Federal Republic.
The Giants won today, and the 49ers looked terrible, but it's the preseason, and I'm drinking Budweiser.
Don't judge me.