Yes, yes. . . you are right. I need to go to rehab. I'll try it on my own, but. . . not tonight. I have to make an appearance at a gymroid's birthday party. He lives across town, on the other side of Gotham, on a big lake. It should be something. Fortunately, it starts at 5:30. Unfortunately, I'll probably be the only one there at that time, and I will have to leave shortly, just as the other guests begin to arrive. I'll need to get home to mother. The thing will go on all night long.
I don't really like driving at night anymore. I don't really like driving at all anymore. Maybe I should get a self-driving car.
Did they make any early in the century? You know I ain't getting anything new.
It is another picture perfect day here. I thought last night that I might get up this morning and go to the big Farmer's Market in a distant town, but I am not feeling it this morning. Have I picked up another cold? I read just minutes ago that this year's flu season is going to be the worst. Even the vaccine will not prevent you from getting it. It does, however, reduce your chances of being hospitalized by 30%.
What?!?!?
And Covid is ticking up.
Maybe I'll just self isolate. Ha! That will only cut out about two hours of my day. The rest of the time, I am an isolate. All I really need to give up is the gym. We all know that is a hotbed of disease.
But. . . it is really my only social life, too. Yesterday, a nice woman saw me working out in one of the small rooms off the main floor. She was down the hall when she saw me. She smiled and waved, and too my great surprise, walked in to say hello. She is an online personal trainer. Right? I don't know, either, but she is very much in shape. The other day, another woman I am friendly with, came up to tell her she looked amazing.
"Thank you," she gleamed.
When the other woman was gone, I said, "WTF?"
"What?"
"You just took the compliment and didn't return it?"
The other woman who gave the compliment is Chinese and is also very fit.
"I don't know. . . I mean. . . she caught me by surprise. . . ."
"You sure have a lot to do to make up for that now," I grinned. I was kidding her, of course.
When she walked into the room and said hello, I replied, "Hi. Boy, you sure look nice today."
"Thank you," she smiled.
"WTF? There you go again," I said spreading my arms as if waiting.
She began to explain that giving the compliment back always seemed disingenuous.
"Of course it is," I said, "but like I used to teach my students, even a disingenuous compliment is usually well-received. It doesn't take much."
That's me, alright, always a Bright Boy spreading goodness and sunshine wherever I go.
Then it was back to my mother's house to take her to her 2:45 cardiology appointment. I was preparing myself for the long wait. We got there at 2:30 and were called back immediately. The doc came in shortly. He is a small man from India. Very considerate. Very nice. He treats my mother wonderfully. He asked her some questions, which were directed to me, then went over the results of her kidney Dopler scan. Her kidneys were fine. He'd see us in three months.
Back in the car, my mother asked, "What did he say?" She had explained earlier to the nurse that she hadn't had time to put in her hearing aids.
"She was in a bit of a rush," I said. "She didn't get up until eight,"
"The doc said your kidneys are fine. Your heart is good. You don't have any problems other than age related things. So, you know, most people are dead at your age, so you are looking great."
She looked at me with pop-eyes then laughed.
"There's nothing wrong with you so give up on this act."
We were home by 3:30. It had been quick. What to do?
"Do you want to sit outside?" my mother asked, grabbing a Beer Lite.
"In a minute," I said. I was trying to stall, but by 3:45. . . I mean what was I going to do. . . Negroni in hand. . . .
Negronis go fast. I made a martini. I was hanging around until dinner. I was going for Friday "night" sushi. I left the house at 4:50.
The doors had just opened at five.
"Just one?" asked the pretty hostess.
"Sad, isn't it?"
"No, no. . . ."
"I don't know. Your tone seemed disapproving."
She sat me at the sushi bar. The sushi chefs were still getting ready. I was alone at the long bar. The waitress had nothing else to do, so she took my order. I'm like the Rain Man. I never need a menu.
Dinner for one. I took my time. I took a picture. I sent it to some. I wanted them to know I knew how to party. Friday "night." When I was finished, I looked at the time. 5:45. I was back to my mother's house by six.
We watched the BBC news, then that horrible asshole on ABC who tries to make everything urgent and disastrous. Trumpstein and Mandami were on everybody's lips. What was up with that?
I'm sure there is something cooking in that Witch's Brew.
My mother was out of beer. She sent me on a run. At some point she was pissed that there were no potato chips. I made her popcorn. I shouldn't eat popcorn, I fear, but I did. Popcorn and scotch. WTF?
My mother left the room for bed at nine. I turned off the t.v. at nine-thirty. I ate part of a gummy and was in bed by ten.
Yes. . . I need to rehab.
The illustration above was an experiment I did in OpenArt A.I. and ChatGPT. I was using a painting by Amy Crehore. I got descriptions of the painting by one and had it produced in the other. Here is her original.
I know. . . . The thing is, Chat is Trumpstein paranoid. It REALLY doesn't want to make images with young girls, and it AIN'T going to let them smoke cigarettes or joints or whatever that is.
I'd done another image from Crehore before this one.
I tried a Balthus painting. This is the closest I could get. I was tiptoeing all over trying to get this much.
I tried on more Crehore.
Crazy shit. I have been a Crehore fan for a couple decades or more. Her work has changed, too, taking fewer chances, becoming more conservative "to meet the times." One of her small 12x12 paintings is selling for $4,000 through a gallery right now. Too much for me, but not a whole lot of money for someone else. I assume she'll get half of that.
Nope. I've decided. I'm not going to the big Farmer's Market today. I will take a long walk in my own hometown, then maybe I'll take my camera near Gotham. Maybe.
And then, of course. . . just as I did for last night's sushi. . . I'll be the first one in and out of the party. I'll be back to my mother's house in time for t.v. and her evening meds.
Selah.
Let's kick this party off with a little Miles Davis tune adapted by Jamal. Just breezin' through the weekend.
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