Monday, September 4, 2017

Labor Day Terror

Labor Day, the unofficial end to the summer.  No more seersucker, or so they say.  Time to put away the whites.  There is a season, though summer's end is nearly three weeks away.  It is much more than that here.  Out in the Atlantic Ocean, my nightmare brews, a giant hurricane headed right my way.  I've been devastated once, as any reader here well knows.  I am traumatized and almost incapacitated.  I am not afraid of wind and rain.  Were I a renter, I would have stocked up on beer and liquor last night instead of canned foods and water.  But for all the tree falling and tree trimming I've done here, I still have limbs that are dangerous.  I've just had a roof put on that I don't trust.  Beneath is is thousands of dollars worth of insulation.  My hands tremble.  My gut roils.  Every tracking model right now has a bullseye on my house.  Not some of them.  All of them.

Other people's troubles, however, are rarely interesting in and of themselves, and I have no desire to try to turn mine into art right now.

I sent this (link) to several friends this morning with a complaint.  Really?  This guy quit his job to photograph full-time in NYC for an entire summer and came up with this?  That is not what is so surprising to me, though.  It is that he is being touted in the NY Times while I am being told I'm "a hobbyist."  Fuck me, Mary.

I'm pretty certain I'll have to get surgery on my Achille's tendon.  I haven't been able to walk for over a month.  It felt better yesterday, so I gave it a go.  I can barely get across the room this morning.  I'll make an appointment to see a doctor tomorrow.  It will take weeks before I can get in, I'm sure.  I don't want any surgeries, but that is what they do there.  There are a lot of things I don't want.

Discuss amongst yourselves.

Like everyone else, I have the day off.  If I could walk, I might go out and memorialize the crowd.  As it is, I'll probably stay home and shovel down Xanax with Aperol cocktails.  Hurricanes and nukes and the rest of it.  You can't control the world, they say, only your reaction to it.  Next thing you know, they'll be taking away the heroin.

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