In Summary

My time has not been my own of late, nor will it be for awhile.  It is good.  It is bad.  I hurt my bad back more yesterday and am gripped by pain and fear whenever I stand.  I like sitting with my iPad and reading a book, then checking email, then switching over to Vanity Fair magazine, and then watching "Treme" on HBOGo, but my modem is on the fritz so I can only do any one of those things for a little while before it freezes up and I have to unplug and replug it.  It is agony.  But today is back to the factory where I will be forced upright for the day.  It will require pain killers of some type.  I hate wasting my liver on such necessary things.

Which reminds me.  Peter O'Toole is dead.  He and Richard Harris were Hellboys along with some other British actors.  Both of them were prone to overact, but sometimes they hit it good.  The best movie O'Toole ever overacted in was "Venus."  I haven't stated that right.  That was the best he ever overacted.

The girl in the picture is overacting, too.  It was the best she overacted.

I have been sleeping a lot, but because of pain, it is not really sleeping.  I am tired in spite of the early hour I go to bed.  But I have relearned the pleasures of early bedtime as when I was a child.  When the weariness hits you and the bed cuddles you in. . . all I need is the quiet voices of adults in the other room.  Perhaps I should put up a Christmas tree.  With Christmas a week away, should I?  You will scoff at this because I know the likes of you all, but (in a hushed voice) Restoration Hardware has the coolest tree I have ever seen, simple, easy, elegant.  It would be nothing to put up and take down and it would give a nice ambience to the room during the holidays.  It will last forever.  You can dress it up or you can dress it down.  It is like a pair of Ferragamo shoes.  I don't really like most Ferragamos, but I heard a salesperson tell that to a woman trying on a starter pair of black low heels at Bloomingdales in NYC once.  It made an impression.

Some of your cold air made it here last night.  It is fifty degrees this morning.  The high will be sixty-eight.  It will impart a little of the holiday magic and people will be out in bars and cafes showing off their "winter" clothing.  Kids will be like puppies in this weather.

So, in summary, my back hurts, my modem is fried, O'Toole died, I go to bed early and might buy a fake Christmas tree, and the weather has turned coolish.  That's a hell of a (bullshit) posting.  Such, I guess, is my life.