The Divine Mr. M

I...I tried to keep it to an even 30 days away because I like even numbers, but obviously I've fallen short. I don't have any reason to write, just blowing dust off The Thing.

Well, if you really want to know, I'm killing time while Tablet from Hell gets a hard drive format so I can finally sell it. I sold one of the two we had for $20 while Other Person was asleep, just to get it off my hands (it was mine after I cracked the screen and bought a replacement with better overall specs) but also because I hated it, and just sold this one for about 6 times that because it was in better condition, but also because I hated it. And OP has a Surface tossed out by someone who apparently didn't know how to clean contacts on a charging cable; nothing else was wrong with it - so he didn't need (or want) the replacement anymore.

Since it's been a hair over three weeks (140 years in intertubes time) I could talk about what's happened - madgravity and I've been having a nice, off-topic bi-monthly chat on a post I made back in August; I have no idea why; AIM's shutting down on December 15th, and while I'd be the obvious choice to say something on that, I'd just be raining on the collective's parade, so can't compel myself. "AIM installs OpenCandy" (malware - yay), "AIM won't let you download your Buddy List since I don't know what version it was they decided to lock you in like this" (using an existing AIM email address might work, or you could try an older version of AIM; I can't get the oldest versions to run on Windows 10, but I could try newer old versions, if I ever stop not feeling like it), AIM never complied with AOL's Software For Sale philosophy (big rip-roaring success that was) which was why it never became Skype or WhatsApp....rain, rain, go away please come back another day. I can't do it. People love AIM so much I just hate pissing on that parade.

In other exciting news, a frozen quart of chicken stock jumped out of the freezer the other day, which probably broke my toe after the corner of it hit said digit just right. I haven't spent a day in that much pain since the other foot got laid to semi-permanent waste, which means I last went around wanting to kill an inanimate object that was actively trying to kill me about three years ago, almost to the day.

Btw, inanimate objects doing everything from flying through the air to jumping out of freezers, fridges, ovens, off of stovetops, out of kitchen sinks, bathtubs, off of buildings and so on are exactly why I believe in quantum psychics. If something can be in two places at once, then something can be two things at once, which literally means all the stuff we think of as "inanimate objects" is actually living - and capable of thought. Tell me it isn't possible. I'll kill time much as I usually do - desperately fleeing inanimate objects that are clearly on the fucking warpath - while I await your response.

Hmmmm, the hard drive forcing me to sit through this post because I have absolutely nothing else to do (I could go scrub the shower, but the hell with it) is still formatting. So lastly, politics suck. I valiantly powered through 12 months of searching for the right words to make change possible via the inwardly flailing author of this blog and finally got my reward in the form of tonsillitis and bronchitis all at once. When I can look at OP and go, "If I don't get antibiotics I'll either be dead or in the ICU in a few more days" - something I've never had to say before, though other times in my life I've cut it pretty much this damn close, so nothing all that new going on here - then yeah, I think it's time to take a break - if not have my head examined.

I have Suggestions in queue on Dreamwidth image hosting that, if they ever post, will show the date of the night I got sick. It was two days later that I got antibiotics over the counter because I couldn't wait on a doctors appointment (up to six weeks off in the future for any clinic I can afford), knew what was wrong because tonsillitis has haunted me since my early 20s, and wasn't about to pay $2,000 for an emergency room visit. And Oh Doctor Heal Thyself I indeed got better. But I'm not revisiting my previous posting schedule - not unless the subject matter changes a lot, and actually interests me again.

The depressing slop that's today's political landscape doesn't, except in a sort of, "Hey, let's watch this trainwreck again in slow-mo!" fashion borne of being so disgusted with such rapid and unthinkable change you can't stop looking, though it's the same trainwreck over and over and over. Each time you watch there's one more tragedy you simply hadn't noticed before. And in the long run, there's too many for any one human to see, absorb or actually deal with without tuning out or drowning, and I don't have any fairy dust left to sprinkle on this thing and make it all go away. Even Eminem's become sort of incoherent, and when he struggles for words, I guess it's time to cut the tape.

Then there's the thought of finding yourself - if not your passion or path, then simply who you are, what you want. But in all the political madness I forgot what I want. I forgot who I was, who I am. I forgot. Then I read Christ in the Garden of Endless Breadsticks and considering how seriously I'm writing this up, you might laugh: it's an article about Olive Garden. But the incredibly over-the-top artsy-fartsy ridiculous fashion it's written in made me realize I no longer want to take the political landscape in and breath it back out like the black soot upon our souls it is. So while I was recovering from tonsils, I stopped emailing myself anything political to repost. The first link I emailed myself was on Olive Garden, weeks later. I decided I liked where it was leading me - way off the path I've beaten here.

But what really swings me around is the situation with North Korea. Which, if you want to (briefly) talk politics (I hope not), all I can say is: "We warned you. There's nothing he's said or done that should raise an eyebrow, nothing he can say or do that should induce the slightest shock. We warned you. And warned you. And warned you! Those of us writing, we warned you. Those of us reading such writers, we warned you. Those of us telling you he was no good, and into infinity exactly why that is, to a person, we warned you."

Anything predicted is coming true so ad infinitum there's probably nothing left that won't - and you know what, if I have but a short time left thanks to this walking brain stem and "his [so-called] people" I'll be damn well sure to enjoy it, or at least die trying to. Nothing he says or does is worth more than the ounce of energy it takes to scan the headlines and any extra ounces required to read in-depth when I must. Because we did warn you, and we shouldn't have to keep retreading the topic of His Royal Asswipe like the threadbare tire it's so quickly become.

Which is to say that while I don't know what I might do with myself in lieu of no longer covering this topic, I can probably think of something.