Tuesday, November 21, 2023

Another Mood Indigo

The cat is back.  A lot.  She came for two feedings yesterday and hung around for a long while.  She is not jumpy around me at all now, so I have to wonder what she's been doing.  Maybe she's been eating rats, but maybe someone else has been feeding her.  I won't worry about her any longer.  She seems to be doing fine.  

Early yesterday, I decided to take a walk across an outdoor "garden" which is really a large nature park.  In truth, I don't know what to call it, but the city owns it.  There is a garden club and a small outdoor amphitheater where people sometimes perform wedding ceremonies.  There is a stream that runs through the park and as I found yesterday, there are now plantings of native plants with i.d. markers.  It is where many birds nest including barn owls with their downy white owlets.  On weekends, you will find birders with their binoculars and telescopes.  You can walk through the park and come out the other side into one of my favorite neighborhoods.  So I meandered and took photos with my Monochrom Leica and lamented the rest of my missing Leica gear.  

Cutting back across the gardens on my way home, I heard someone call my name as I got close to the amphitheater.  I looked over to the only other person around.  It was some bum with a big, old dog.  He waved and I waved back.  

"It's Bob," he said.  

Ohhhh.  Bob is an actor of no small repute.  I don't think I can call him a "star."  He's been in many movies and t.v. shows, but rarely played the lead.  Should I call him a "recurring character"?  His real name isn't Bob, of course, and if I mentioned the movies he's been in, you would know him right away.  I'll give you a clue, though.  He is cast in a big role in an upcoming t.v. show set in the Florida Keys.  

I've known Bob for many, many years.  He graduated from an Ivy League school's theater program.  When I first met him, he was making his living in a little league wrestling federation as a manager/wrestler.  He got injured pretty badly, though, when he was slammed to the canvas one night, and that was the end of that.  He was getting small parts in big movies, though, and he decided to use the money to make a film of his own.  He asked me to be involved in the production, and she et up a meeting with me, himself and the director.  I couldn't stand the director when I met him, however, and I graciously declined to be part of the production.  I did get Q an internship with Bob, though, as he was in film school here at the time.  I never saw the movie.  I thought I remembered the name of it, but I Googled it and I wasn't right.  I don't know that the movie ever had a theatrical release.  I think it went straight to video.  It was one of those things you might pick up out of curiosity at a Block Buster back then.  

Since then, though, his career has gotten much bigger.  We stood in the park chatting, catching up, and we walked together along the creek to the back exit of the park that leads to my neighborhood.  As we were about to go our separate ways, Bob said, "You still have my number, right?"  Jesus. . . I didn't think so, so he dialed my number.  Now I have it.  I guess we will get together for drinks.  

I tell the story only for one reason.  Self-aggrandizement.  Sort of.  It is just that I find myself happy if the hippie girl at the cafe remembers me.  I am amazed when I get texts from women I have known.  I wonder how I have become friends with a bunch of younger, rich gymroids.  My self-esteem has sunk to new depths in the past few years.  Not my ego.  Don't get me wrong.  My ego is out of control.  Self-esteem is something else, though. . . right?   So when the former poet laureate or the novelist or the movie star call my name, say hello, sit on my deck for awhile. . . I don't know.  It picks me up.  It makes me happy for a moment.  Hell, I get the same kick out of the garbage guys blowing their horn and waving.  I am just alone so much, I think I am invisible.  

And maybe depressed.  

Last night, I went to bed at nine o'clock.  I like going to bed early.  After brushing my teeth, I opened the bedside table drawer to look for something.  I was worried about waking up at three or four o'clock in the morning.  I wanted to sleep for a long time.  My drawers are full of things and I always find surprises.  I pulled out a box of Moon Drops.  They are a homeopathic sleep aid, it says on the box.  Lozenges.  These were brought to my house years ago.  But surely they can't go bad, I thought, so I popped one.  Next to the box was a jar of Sleep Massage Cream that smells of lavender.  I remembered that long ago, I used to have a hippie girl who said she loved me who would massage my back with it before bed to put me to sleep.  I massaged some into my temples and turned off the light.  

I slept the whole night through and had the most wonderful, happy dreams.  All sorts of joyful things from my life were mixed in.  Was it the Moon Drops?  Was it the Massage Cream?  I don't know, but I am certain to use them again tonight.  

Products.  Girls are good with products.  So is Tennessee, truth be told.  Sky gave me some magical face elixir last year.  I should invest, I think, in more products.  If nothing else, they are fun, and no matter the science, if they make you happy, they are bound to have some positive outcomes.  

I like a woman with products.  They are always a mystery to me.  

I have therapy this morning.  It seems to help, but it is a pain in the ass and it isn't going to make my knee normal.  I still have pain and on a long walk, I still begin to limp. But I've noticed that I have become more aware of my environment on walks and less absorbed in dealing with the pain, so there is that.  

I am trying to make do with a Sony mirrorless digital camera, but it isn't working.  I don't love it.  I almost resent it.  It does things my Leicas couldn't do, but at a terrible cost, I think.  It even has a tilting screen.  But it is more of a computer than a camera.  I am going to have to buy another Leica, I know.  It will break me, but it seems somehow essential to my being.  I can't afford it, though.  I am struggling.  

We will see.

The morning is cloudy.  From what I've read, we can plan on a cloudy, wet winter here.  I am not good with this.  Weather affects my psyche.  My normal melancholy turns dark and deep in weather like this.  I've been told I'm "moody."  Well, you know what they say. 

You ain't been blue
No, no, no
You ain't been blue
'Til you've had that mood indigo


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