"And so begins the Eisenhower Penis Tour." (Entry. No. 5,550)
Cold and rainy today. Currently, it's overcast and 42˚F, with the windchill at 39˚F. It's going to miserable all the way through Sunday, apparently, with no sun again until Monday. I have, over the last decade, become an oddly solar-powered beast. It's hard to believe that, many years ago, I loved rainy days; now they almost do me in.
An peculiar sort of day yesterday, but not a bad sort of day. After some work early in the day (mostly backed-up email, to be honest), we drove over to Homewood and Southside. There are places I haven't seen in many years I'm slowly tracking down. Yesterday, we began with the Homewood Post Office, where I had my first p.o. box (590133) for the purposes of writing business. I'd not been there since April 1994, just before I moved to Athens, Georgia. Then an apartment in Homewood (on 29th Ct. So.) that I helped the late Liz Downey move into sometime in 1989; any number of restaurants and clubs, only a tiny handful of which have survived the brutal decades; an old house at the foot of Red Mountain (corner of 16th Ave. So. and 12th St. So.) that me and Jada and Elizabeth almost rented in 1990; Cobb Lane; and so on. We drove down 280 to Whole Foods, and Spooky made chili for dinner. We finished Season Two of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisle, which was at least as brilliant as Season One, and possibly more so. We got to bed about 2 a.m., I think. Tonight, we get new episodes of The Ranch.
Seeing those places yesterday, it was bittersweet, as expected, regrets and memories and lost moments and ghosts.
I've gotten off the Gabapentin again. Already, my head is so much clearer.
Spooky's making a beanie platypus, the first she's made in a long, long, long time, and it will be auctioned soon with a copy of Tales of the Woeful Platypus (2007).
Later,
CRK
11:55 a.m. (yesterday)
An peculiar sort of day yesterday, but not a bad sort of day. After some work early in the day (mostly backed-up email, to be honest), we drove over to Homewood and Southside. There are places I haven't seen in many years I'm slowly tracking down. Yesterday, we began with the Homewood Post Office, where I had my first p.o. box (590133) for the purposes of writing business. I'd not been there since April 1994, just before I moved to Athens, Georgia. Then an apartment in Homewood (on 29th Ct. So.) that I helped the late Liz Downey move into sometime in 1989; any number of restaurants and clubs, only a tiny handful of which have survived the brutal decades; an old house at the foot of Red Mountain (corner of 16th Ave. So. and 12th St. So.) that me and Jada and Elizabeth almost rented in 1990; Cobb Lane; and so on. We drove down 280 to Whole Foods, and Spooky made chili for dinner. We finished Season Two of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisle, which was at least as brilliant as Season One, and possibly more so. We got to bed about 2 a.m., I think. Tonight, we get new episodes of The Ranch.
Seeing those places yesterday, it was bittersweet, as expected, regrets and memories and lost moments and ghosts.
I've gotten off the Gabapentin again. Already, my head is so much clearer.
Spooky's making a beanie platypus, the first she's made in a long, long, long time, and it will be auctioned soon with a copy of Tales of the Woeful Platypus (2007).
Later,
CRK
11:55 a.m. (yesterday)