AM or FM

I live the life of an isolato.  I know the holiday thing is going on somewhere out there.  I saw evidence yesterday when I took my mother for her renal scan.  There was a huge fake Christmas tree in giant lobby of the medical building.  That is my connection to the outside world now, medical buildings.  It seems the whole world is in wheelchairs or walkers or using canes.  

The night before her scan, I got up to take my four hour dose of NyQuil.  My mother was standing in the kitchen holding onto the edge of the sink with a wild look in her eye.  

"I've lost it," she said.  

"Lost what?"

"I don't know if it is AM or FM."

"What?  AM or FM?"

"Whatever it is--day or night."

And so it goes here.  She was supposed to fast before her scan.  In the morning, I heard her bumping around in the cabinets.  When I went into the kitchen, she was eating.  

"WTF?"

Later, I called the doc's office and told them she had eaten some breakfast biscuits at six.  She was scheduled for one.  After a bit, the woman came back on the line and said it was o.k. just as long as she didn't eat anything more.  

These are my social interactions.  This morning, lying in bed just before rising, I was thinking about college.  My old college roommate isn't doing well and is in a rehab facility right now.  He's not experiencing the holiday season, either.  Lying in bed, though, I could feel the energy we drew from the season then.  It infected the entire campus.  Nothing overt, just a feeling.  We weren't that far from childhood then.  There were still the old stirrings inside us, I guess.  

Even at the factory, such things lingered, and now, living the life I do, I miss that sense of community.  

But culture wars have taken their toll on all that, the whole "melting pot" vs. "diversity" issue.  Multiculturalism hasn't panned out quite like it was supposed to.  

But I would like to be walking on the Boulevard in the brisk autumnal air, watching people, having lunches and drinks, and feeling the vibe.  

This cold has really been kicking my ass.  I'm going to come out the end of this tunnel looking peaked and puny and pale.  

I like alliterations.  

I may need one more day in bed.  I slept all the live long day yesterday but for needing to take my mother to the doctor's office.  I think another day of complete rest is going to be required. 

I feel I'm missing everything.  

I watched a couple documentaries on Edie Sedgwick last night.  They both mentioned a film she made, "Ciao! Manhattan."  I found the movie on YouTube (link).  Wow!  As the old song says, "Those were different times."  I couldn't live that way.  I enjoy my emotions too much.  They say that the coupe glass was shaped after the breasts of Marie Antoinette.  Maybe, but you can see that they sure look a hell of a lot like Sedgwick's breasts, too.  

"She was very proud of them."

And rightfully so, I think.  

I read an article today about a researcher who has done Adolph Hitler's genome sequence and found that he had a disease that would have kept his testicles from descending and would likely have given him a micropenis (link).  Don't you wonder what they might find out about YOU if they sequenced your genes?  

"Well, I guess that explains it."

I sure as shit hope they do Trump's.  Like yesterday.  

I'm still awed by people's fascination with Epstein, and I still think people are motivated by two bad desires.  One is "getting Trump."  Like we need more "proof."  The other is just secret desire.  

"We need to see ALL the evidence."

They are not going to produce the pictures and videos you morons.  Only "special" people will have access to those.  You are just going to have to keep using your dirty little imaginations when you think nobody is around.   

There is a statue outside the offices of the BBC of George Orwell smoking a cigarette.  On it an inscription  reads "If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear." 

You can tell people what they don't want to hear, but you'll have to suffer the consequences of that.  He forgot to say that part (link).  Megyn Kelly spoke a truth about the Epstein thing and the women of CNN lost their minds.  

"One of the victims even had braces for God's sake!"

Uh. . . I hate to say it, but Kelly is right.  You just hate her because she is another one of those made up doll looking republican cokehead beauties.  And, as a friend of mine wrote to me today, "Kelly knows what she is talking about, I'm certain."  She was very specific.  Fifteen.  

Last night, my mother asked me a curious question.  

"What made you get so interested in these gel plates?"

I'd been watching YouTube videos trying to learn how to use them.  I didn't really have a response.  I had no words.  It was a good question.  All I could come up with was, "I want to make something."

Twenty to twenty-four hours a day, I take care of my mother.  We can't have conversations because she can't hear.  We just exchange essential information.  

"Is it AM or FM?"

Beats me, mom.  Beats me.