Sounds "Oo-oo, Baby, Baby"

Another rather nice day.  Nothing memorable occured, but the vibe was good, and once again, at least one person commented that I was smiling.  

After spending a lazy day, I grabbed a couple warm-up meals from Whole Foods along with more shrimp and some tiramisu.  It was an easy and good dinner.  After dinner, mom and I watched the last episode of the new season of "Black Doves," an improbable story that shouldn't be as good as it seems to be.  The cinematography is often Leiter-like, and maybe that's the thing, that and watching Kiera Knightly.  

Being Projected as an "Object of Lust." In a 2023 interview with Harper's Bazaar UK, Knightley explained that stepping into the role at 17 felt like a jarring shift from her naturally "tomboyish" personality. She noted that Elizabeth Swann "was the object of everybody's lust" and felt she was being judged on a sexualized image rather than her acting, leaving her feeling "very constrained" and "caged".

I've commented about this before, but I'll leave it alone just to say that her 41 year old face is still fascinating.   It is always hard to look away from a beautiful woman.  

I wonder how Brad Pitt feels?  It's hard to look away from a beautiful man, too.  There just aren't as many of them, I think.  When I used to show "The Philadelphia Story" in my film classes, I wondered how the kids would respond to Cary Grant. I was always surprised how the girls with the nose rings and tats would respond.  Yup.  They were wowed.  

Paul Newman.  Marlon Brando.  There were a few.  

Now, the boys at Country Club College all look like Abercrombie and Fitch models.  Not all of them, but, a lot.  At the university, it's a different story.  It's a Tale of Two Cities.  

That was random.  

I've been having lovely dreams this week.  Surprising ones.  Sensual dreams from which I awake smiling.  Yes, I've been smiling even in my sleep, I guess.  My neck has improved enough that I can sleep in almost any position, and that helps, too, though my left arm and had still tingle and go numb.  It is taking its time.  

Tonight I go to Happy Hour with the boys.  T is in town, and everyone has once again agreed to go early as I will need to be home in time to fix my mother's dinner.  

And there's the music.  So much music.  I hadn't listened to any for awhile.  There is a correlation, I believe.  Music and mood.  

I've been slacking, though, on the art thing.  I've made no pictures of any kind this week.  Rather, I've been spending time reading.  The new Osborne book hasn't started all that well.  His language seems somehow artificial, and I keep rewriting his sentences or choosing better wording as I read.  It's not at all like reading "Gatsby" where you wouldn't change much of anything at all.  I should have known, I guess, by the book jacket.  It is just a little too slick.  

I'm not stressing about not making art right now.  What I am stressing about is getting off the narco hooch I've been using to kill the pain so I can sleep.  I'm doing everything I'm not supposed to do in combination.  It is fine until it's not.  But hell, one of the boys just survived a weekend of fentanyl/cocaine speedballs and seems to be fine.  

Mom's roaming.  I need to feed her.  Eggs and protein waffles.  Easy.  

I'll leave you with a song by a group that are cousins of yesterday's song.  They are out of L.A. but the music is called Cochella Funk among other things.  For this one, just grab your teddy bear and blanket and have a good listen to this R&B groove.