"...I walk my days on a wire." (55)
So here we are in autumn. And the photo below shows that, even in Alafuckingbama, autumn can bring out the pagan weirdness lurking in the deep places of all our psyches. Truly, that sheep mask, in an Alabama grocery store. How is that not fucked up? I think I have to go back and buy the damn thing just because it's not every day, right? Anyway, a nice enough day, if you like that sort of thing. The leaves are drying, yellowing, and so forth. The sky is too blue. There is that crispness in the air. Our high was 85˚F.
Seriously, that mask would haunt my dreams if I could, you know, get one decent night's sleep.
I have almost nothing good to say for today, and even less to say for yesterday, which I did not even see fit to dignify with a blog entry. I have been trying to work, but the whole not sleeping thing is making a joke of that.
I have not left the house since we got back from Tuscaloosa, last Friday. Which was likely my last good day.
My gastrointestinal tract, which, in the best of times, is not a happy place, has been on a rampage the likes of which I have not seen in a few years, and some fairly agonizing pain has been keeping me up most of every night. Add to that the flare of the peripheral neuropathy that screwed my feet up starting way back in (at least) 2004, and this past week has been fairly fucking miserable.
No, I am not a healthy person. I wish this whole "impending fall of America at the hands of Christofascist, Neo-Nazi fuckwits" thing could have happened when I was young and at least remotely useful to myself and others. Then again, I don't know. At least I spent my youth in the second half of what may soon prove the last sane century of Western Civilization.
I blame the sheep mask.
Today, two documentaries, the first on a disastrous day for climbers on K2, back in 2008, when eleven climbers died. The second was about Mexican migrant farm workers allegedly being exploited by American carnivals. I honestly did not know there were enough carnivals left in America to exploit much of anyone. Yesterday, I watched Cary Joji Fukunaga's No Time to Die (2021), which I like more each time I see it, but...on the other hand...Fukunaga was simply a terrible choice to direct the film, and it's never going to not show.
Please, please, please have a look at our Big Cartel shop and buy something if you can. Thank you. Also, Spooky says we're about to get eBay up and running again for a bit, so watch the space for news on that.
Later Tater Beans (and Alabama Creepy Sheep),
Aunt Beast
11:35 a.m.
Postscript: Wait! It's not a fucking sheep! It's a goddamn llama! Somehow that's even weirder.
Seriously, that mask would haunt my dreams if I could, you know, get one decent night's sleep.
I have almost nothing good to say for today, and even less to say for yesterday, which I did not even see fit to dignify with a blog entry. I have been trying to work, but the whole not sleeping thing is making a joke of that.
I have not left the house since we got back from Tuscaloosa, last Friday. Which was likely my last good day.
My gastrointestinal tract, which, in the best of times, is not a happy place, has been on a rampage the likes of which I have not seen in a few years, and some fairly agonizing pain has been keeping me up most of every night. Add to that the flare of the peripheral neuropathy that screwed my feet up starting way back in (at least) 2004, and this past week has been fairly fucking miserable.
No, I am not a healthy person. I wish this whole "impending fall of America at the hands of Christofascist, Neo-Nazi fuckwits" thing could have happened when I was young and at least remotely useful to myself and others. Then again, I don't know. At least I spent my youth in the second half of what may soon prove the last sane century of Western Civilization.
I blame the sheep mask.
Today, two documentaries, the first on a disastrous day for climbers on K2, back in 2008, when eleven climbers died. The second was about Mexican migrant farm workers allegedly being exploited by American carnivals. I honestly did not know there were enough carnivals left in America to exploit much of anyone. Yesterday, I watched Cary Joji Fukunaga's No Time to Die (2021), which I like more each time I see it, but...on the other hand...Fukunaga was simply a terrible choice to direct the film, and it's never going to not show.
Please, please, please have a look at our Big Cartel shop and buy something if you can. Thank you. Also, Spooky says we're about to get eBay up and running again for a bit, so watch the space for news on that.
Later Tater Beans (and Alabama Creepy Sheep),
Aunt Beast
11:35 a.m.
Postscript: Wait! It's not a fucking sheep! It's a goddamn llama! Somehow that's even weirder.