Better Than Dead

Every license plate I saw this morning contained a Z. All right, I looked at six and five contained a Z.

You see, I sometimes play a game as I commute to and from work. I make words out of the letters in license plates—only official state license plates count, none of the vanity ones. They also has to be random plates from the road or from cars parked alongside it. The game allows one to scramble the letters in any way that will make a word, with Q and X as optional skips. You can make a word out of them if you wish to try, but no demerits for skipping them, and two points instead of one for using them. Of course, since I’m in the car by myself there really isn’t anyone to keep score or to play against, except some hypothetical opponent who might or might not be me.

I was quite smug yesterday evening when I saw a plate with GQE. It felt like there was a word there but I couldn’t quite suss it out. After I meditated on it for a while, “QUAGMIRE” popped into my brain. That’s when the smugness hit. My hypothetical opponent even gave me kudos.

But Z’s everywhere I looked this morning. I didn’t come up with any good solutions. I couldn’t be arsed to try. I kept thinking that I wouldn’t be moving down these roads, ones I’ve traveled for decades, for much longer. I won’t miss the commute. It’s often brutal these days. But I will miss some of the sights and sounds.

Will I miss the license plate game? There will be other roads and other license plates, although I admit to sometimes playing the game obsessively until I have to force myself to stop or risk my sanity.

Maybe I’ll concentrate on new sights and sounds instead.

A cloudy gray day down near the beach, temperatures in the sixties.

At the corner of Pacific and Main a girl with dark hair piled atop her head, in a loose halter top and skintight yoga pants, jogs in place waiting for the light to change. Her boobs bounce boobily. The second the light changes, she shoots across the intersection. A car waiting to make a left turns in front of her. She indignantly pounds on the cab as he passes. He doesn’t notice, keeps on going, and so does she, bouncing across the street while those who had been on the corner with her follow at a more leisurely pace.

Just as the pedestrian light starts to blink red, a ragged man in cammo jacket, shorts, bare feet, and humping a backpack steps into the crosswalk and limps slowly across. About halfway the light changes and he picks up the pace of his limping, waving at those of us in the cars not to run him down. We wait until he makes it to the curb and go on our way.

At the corner of Bay and Main, a portly middle-aged man in T-shirt and shorts strides into the crosswalk from Dogtown Coffee. He balances two large coffees on top of one another, a cigarette stuck between his fingers levitating above their lids.

At Vicente Terrace, a girl hastens purposefully up the street carrying a large yellow plastic bag, three giant poster boards under her arm festooned with lettering and sparkles while Elbow sings, “It’s all gonna be magnificent, she says…”

Just another Thursday morning, ordinary but unique, ephemeral, gone forevermore.

Random quote of the day:

“[The way I work] is like driving a car at night: you never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”

—E. L. Doctorow, The Paris Review, Winter 1986, No. 101

 

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

Driving west on Manchester from Crenshaw, I noticed the neon sign for the Love Divine Chapel looked a little worse for wear: dirty, chipped, lacking in light. Neon signs always look a little depressed when they aren’t turned on, but I imagine that even when the giant L-O-V-E shone in the night it would still look dingy. The tiny meeting hall beside the sign needed paint and repair, the revival bus parked in the miniscule lot needed new tires. The homeless man holding up the hand-scrawled cardboard “Need Food” sign didn’t seem to notice the irony of standing beneath dingy love.

Further down Manchester, the planes coming into LAX paralleled the avenue, low and seeming-slow, though I knew they were speeding over the depressed neighborhoods below.

Customers lined up twenty deep at Randy’s Donuts. Even if you’re not from L.A. or have never been here, you’ve probably seen Randy’s Donuts in some montage or other: it’s the gigantic donut sitting on top of the tiny building right off the freeway. A sort of emblem of L.A. in it’s way. The space shuttle parked outside it for awhile, resting on its cross-town journey from LAX to the Museum of Science and Industry.

Randy’s is a kind of demarcation point between the poorer neighborhoods and the gradual swing to upscale as you head west. As the blocks whiz by the prices of rent and purchase gradually rise towards affluent Westchester. My parents bought in when Westchester was still a down at the heels lower middle class neighborhood, but it got “discovered” in the nineties and it’s fully gentrified now. Anything west of Sepulveda Boulevard is pretty pricy.

As I got closer to Sepulveda I saw a giant billboard advertising a place where they freeze fat for cosmetic reasons. I don’t even want to think about that too much. “Fear No Mirror” the billboard declared in far larger letters than the LOVE of the Divine Chapel. I realized we’d moved from the land of Fear No Evil to the land of Vanity of Vanities.

I fear no mirrors, comfortable in my aging skin, even as another birthday approaches. I do fear the fear of mirrors, however.  There is peace in accepting the passage of time, the transformation of the flesh, but we don’t live in an age—and I don’t live in a city—that accepts such peace. Rather the hard lessons of perpetually hard bodies, ever in denial, ever running too fast to stop and listen to the soft words of the soul.  What evils have been wrought in the name of vanity, and continue to be wrought. Yea, verily.

17 Mar
It’s been a weekend of Dealing With Shit.  I am tired of dealing with shit. But I don’t have any choice. Privilege!

19 Mar
Tom Cruise is thinking of despoiling another classic 60s TV show: U.N.C.L.E.  Nooooooooo!!

I’ve pretty much resigned myself to turds like Cruise ruining my childhood memories.

20 Mar
She wore black tights and knee-high boots, a lavishly ruffled green blouse, walking her little white dog as if heading down a fashion runway.

20 Mar
Surprisingly, my Lotto ticket does not have winning numbers. One more chance tonight. I bet this time I’ll win big

21 Mar
I’m not sure if I’m ashamed I know about this or not. It certainly is hilarious, and possibly (probably) TMI: http://bit.ly/YIPmJU 

22 Mar
PETA kills 90% of all animals taken to their shelter: http://bit.ly/Xvr070 

22 Mar
I’m finding it highly ironic that I just put a “Freedom” stamp on the payment I’m mailing off to the Tax Board.

22 Mar
Writing tip: Chances are, anything that can be labeled hip is not unique. Know what true uniqueness is before you attach that label to yourself.

25 Mar
Tell the L.A. Times ownership: “No Sale to the Koch Brothers!” http://signon.org/s/T39u6o 

25 Mar
Girls who define themselves by who they’re dating creep me the hell out. Talk about the Zombie Apocalypse!

26 Mar
Forms, forms, and more forms. The gubmint’s appetite for them is endless.

26 Mar
Dear upscale boutique: having a sign outside your store with script so fancy it can’t be easily read negates having a sign outside your store.

27 Mar
There are days when I could start screaming and never stop till my voice gave out. Fortunately for those around me I’ve maintained control.

27 Mar
Ironic outsourcing facts: The address for the Los Angeles Fire Department EMS billing is in Wheat Ridge, Colorado.

27 Mar
Mom home from rehab on Friday. Thus follows days characterized by alternating moments of terror and relief.

3 Apr
I wouldn’t say I’m frazzled, but I just had a moment of panic about missing a meeting this morning…that I actually attended.

3 Apr
My phone conversations with my mother would make great comedy routines—if they weren’t so desperately frustrating to endure.

Who’s on first? That’s right.

8 Apr
Mom turned 92 yesterday and everyone wanted to give her little parties. The Happy Birthday phone calls began at 7 a.m., but she enjoyed herself a lot.

 That’s all that really matters.

8 Apr
I began my “weekend” in the wee hours of Friday morning with a nasty bout of food poisoning, but the weekend ended well enough, Sunday being Mom’s birthday. We took her out to dinner at Billingsley’s—an old-fashioned (70s décor) steakhouse. It was great and she really enjoyed it.

8 Apr
I had a long, happy dream last night about having enough time and energy to have a creative life again.

9 Apr
I think Peter Dinklage should be People’s Sexiest Man Alive.  Dead serious there.

9 Apr
Nothing in life is quite so good as sleeping in your own bed.  And yes, that includes sex and porterhouse steak.

9 Apr
She was always a slamming great cook; it’s a big point of pride to still cook, though it’s not always what it once was. Wouldn’t dream of saying anything to hurt her feelings. Just shut up and eat. Which is emblematic of my entire life, now that I think about it.

10 Apr
Back at the ER.

11 Apr
Mom’s chest pains turned out not to be a heart attack. A day of testing in the hospital. She’ll be released today. Update when I know more.

p.s. My cat is sick. I’ll try to work the vet in.

Finding time to get the cat to the vet while not knowing precisely when to pick up Mom…special.

11 Apr
Found a new use for my portable Bluetooth speaker: sitting it on the counter while I take a shower and waiting for the doctor(s) to call.

11 Apr
A strained muscle in Mom’s chest so that when she took a deep breath it hurt.  On our way home.

And Min is feeling much better tonight, too. 🙂

15 Apr
I spent an ungodly amount of money at the vet this weekend. Min is okay. I don’t feel the money was wasted. I love my baby.

She was harassing me at 4 a.m. to get my slothful butt up and feed her so I’d say she’s back to her old self.

16 Apr
I was busy all day at work then there was a screw up at the dialysis clinic and Mom got hooked up late. We didn’t get home until 8 p.m. so I heard about Boston plenty, but in bits and pieces. I wasn’t flooded with it all day. This morning there were police cars out in front of the building when I got to work. Just parked, hanging out. We’re a soft but unlikely target. Still, I don’t imagine the poor people watching a venerable race in Boston imagined themselves to be targets, either. Godspeed, Boston. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

16 Apr
I feel like the mother of a toddler: my purse is full of snacks and things to entertain the one I care for.

16 Apr
Mom saw a TV ad for the larger Kindle Fire HD and said, “It sure would be nice to have one of those larger ones. Too bad my birthday’s past.” What I thought but didn’t say was “Mother’s Day is coming up.” Mom probably was thinking but not saying the same thing. She may be old, but she’s still sly, and doesn’t hesitate to ask for stuff she wants. Life’s is way the hell too short.

16 Apr
Min has the beginnings of kidney issues. Nothing life threatening right now, but we’ll get her tested every 6 months or so. Kidneys!

27 Dec
The guy in the Cadillac Escalade whose license plate included “ASAP” driving at least 10 mph under the speed limit.

30 Dec
I have strep throat. The doc said “I worked in the ER and nothing phases me but THAT’S impressive.” God knows how long I’ve had it.

31 Dec
I’ve been sick as a dog for days but tonight I feel like I may have regained my humanity. Happy new year everyone.

1 Jan
No fever this morning for the first time since Friday. I think I may survive. 

 May you all enjoy a happy and fever free 2013.

1 Jan
Having watched all the Rose Parade I can stand (10 minutes), I will turn my attention elsewhere.

2 Jan
People are the foulest species. I don’t usually watch Animal Cops because I can’t stand the cruelty, stupidity and culpability of some people, but it happened to be on when I turned the TV on and I became transfixed by a story of three horses. Happy endings for two of them, no word on what kind of ending the third experienced. I want to believe the number of good people balances out the bad, but there are days I have my doubts.

2 Jan
In other news, I still feel like crud.

2 Jan
Watching a Dr. Oz diet show while eating KFC: another fine irony.

3 Jan
Profound: doing an oracle reading re: Mom and having her interrupt it with a phone call. If I was a writer I might make something of that.

4 Jan
I felt mostly human today but still tire way too easily.

6 Jan
Who likes mimes except other mimes?

7 Jan
I think “don’t describe eye color” is one of the more bogus writing rules. Someone with a personality disorder must have made that one up. I always notice eye color in Real Life. It’s pertinent in description; eyes are the windows to the soul, etc. Having said all this, I do believe amateurs way the hell overuse eye color as a descriptor, as if it’s the only thing important about a face. It’s one more piece of the puzzle, that’s all, and perhaps that rule was generated by someone’s frustration over too many “he had brown hair and blue eyes” 
flat and lifeless descriptions. More important perhaps to note the pitted quality of his nose, how light never touches those blue eyes.

7 Jan
They’re talking about springing Ma soon from the Big House. She’s been walking real good.

9 Jan
Boycotting Olive Garden, Red Lobster and now Wendy’s: http://bit.ly/ZyYiY5 

10 Jan
Hope seems to be my Rasputin emotion. No matter how many times and ways it is assassinated, it refuses to die.

10 Jan
Mom got cocky, thinking she was going home, and decided to go to the bathroom without help. She lost her balance and “fell.” Although she insists she just “slid down the wall.” No breaks/fractures, thank God. But they want to monitor her another week or so before releasing her. She’s doing well. They took her outside and walked her up and down the block yesterday (assisted). They’re just being cautious.

11 Jan
I’m so old that when I hear the word “butter” I have to fight the urge to say, “Parkay.”

14 Jan
Dear Man on the Cycle: your clownish bicycle clothes just got stupider with the addition of the unitard.

14 Jan
The water in the birdbath froze overnight, a very rare occurrence here near the beach.

14 Jan
It doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t 

mean anything.

Don’t read anything into it, don’t read anything into it, don’t read anything into it, don’t read anything into it, don’t read anything into it.

Remember: hope is the thing without feathers.

14 Jan
Funny the things that stick in your mind: I can’t read/hear “papier maché” without hearing Rowan Atkinson’s voice (from Blackadder Goes Forth) saying, “Pap-ee-yay MASH-ay willie.” (He was mocking the artistic strivings of Hugh Laurie’s upperclass twit character.) That phrase has been rattling around in my brain for years. Sad, really.

15 Jan
Wow. I just forgot my boss’s last name. I had to get up and look at his name plate. That’s rather terrifying.

15 Jan
Stop being a writer and just write.

15 Jan
Conspiracy theory and gun nuts—a terrifying, sick combination: http://yhoo.it/106HIPr 

18 Dec
So I just downloaded the few pix I had on Instagram and deleted my account. Don’t need no Facebook storm troopers in my life.

19 Dec
Mom’s back in the hospital. She needed a transfusion because she’d gotten so anemic. Things were going too well, I guess. She’s getting taken care of and has good doctors. Hopefully it’s just overnight. We’ll know more by morning. Sometimes I wonder if we’re the beneficiaries or the victims of our medical establishments. Caregiving is a rollercoaster in which you’re always braced for impact.

20 Dec
Mom had her transfusion and is doing better. Later, dialysis and another transfusion. Then hopefully back to rehab. I haven’t talked to her yet this morning, but I’ve talked to the doctor and the nurse.

Some day, if I’m really lucky, I’ll write about all this.

20 Dec
Mom has pneumonia now. Still in the hospital. She had it when she was in the ICU and they gave her antibiotics but apparently no one x-rayed her lungs again. Just dealing with the wonderful world of modern medicine and very old people. Shit happens.

21 Dec
It’s so easy to blame the devil because it’s so hard to blame ourselves.

21 Dec
Predictions of Apocalypse always have the stink of the trickster gods all over them. The trickster gods are there to keep us humble.

21 Dec
Is the day over yet?

22 Dec
Life breaks you open when you least expect it, both good and ill.

26 Dec
I’m celebrating Boxing Day by working where I managed, before 9:30 a.m., to get a plastic knife stuck in the toaster.

27 Dec
Mom out of the hospital and back at rehab on Christmas Eve where her spirits and physical well being are much improved.

27 Dec
Just bought two more tarot decks with my last gift card. Blame it on @FBodStudios whose Bunnies of the Tarot Calendar http://bit.ly/VkgT6G  inspired me. I think I have about ten decks at this point, which is ironic since I don’t have time to do readings anymore. But each deck speaks to me in a different voice and I buy them as art objects as much as anything. I also buy in anticipation of another time, a time I’m in no hurry to get to, but one I know will inevitably have its season.

27 Dec
The Santa Monica mountains were a dark, dark purple and black against the sky this morning. They wore a shawl of rose and white clouds as a backdrop. Just above a slash of brilliant blue sky and above that a bubble roof of altocumulus clouds in dark rose, white, and lavender.

30 Nov
Huh! With everything, I completely forgot about the looming Mayan Apocalypse. I wonder if I’ll even notice?

30 Nov
Mom is being transferred to the rehab center this afternoon. That was fast! Such a bundle of conflicting emotions right now. She’s feeling much better and they’ll give her the help she needs. But I’m still twisted in knots. This isn’t a logical I thing, it’s an emotional one. I’ve been her only caregiver for a long time and have to remind myself I’m not abandoning her but getting help.

2 Dec
God save me from people who think being an artist excuses all manner of bad behavior. Mom’s roommate is an Artiste and the most self-absorbed tyrant to her children and everyone else I’ve met in a long time. They’re talking of moving her Monday. Hallelujah.

3 Dec
There are people who will return your phone calls and others who are never going to be able to do that. You have to let go of expectations.

4 Dec
A horror show in the Marina: http://bit.ly/XDkS1D  It broke my heart to see those gorgeous old trees taken down, some 40 years old or more. I have to drive by the stumps of 50+ cut down trees every morning and evening and I keep imagining them crying out in pain and horror. Sometimes a good imagination is a liability.

4 Dec
Your decision: try to help a man off the tracks before he’s hit by a subway train or take a picture of him as he’s about to get hit? Then sell it to the NY Post, of course. What is wrong with some people?

4 Dec
The physical therapist at the rehab center thinks that with some therapy Mom may be able to get back on her feet. This would be a very good thing.

5 Dec
I hope it’s not an omen of Apocalypse: yesterday while sitting at the gas station a dismembered pigeon wing dropped in front of my car. A crow came along presently to fetch it and fly away.

5 Dec
The girl bicycling in a thigh length beige fake fur coat. (At least, I hope it was fake.)

10 Dec
Just when I thought I could relax a bit, the medical transportation company decided to clusterfu*k my mother’s dialysis appointments. Foolish me. You can never relax in the caregiver biz.

11 Dec
Exhausted, desperate for rest, don’t know when that’s going to happen. And the Christmas carolers are here. The happiest time of the year.

12 Dec
Ironic juxtaposition: Driving to work I followed a rusted, corroded, bondo-enhanced “personal pleasure craft” full of fishing poles being towed by some guy to the Marina del Rey. Just as I wondered if they had life jackets on board that mess NPR announced, “Forty years ago today The Poseidon Adventure premiered in theaters.”

13 Dec
So the fire captain of my local fire house called to say he was meeting with the Chief about my mother’s 911 call that they botched. I have no beef against their house—they’ve helped us many times. But this call was not their finest hour. Glad it’s being addressed. The hospital and Mom’s doctors filed a complaint against them. Still, I appreciate the outreach.

13 Dec
Some bright spark asked at the official timekeeping meeting about the tradition of sending us home early the day before a holiday. No more early exits for us. Don’t ask and we won’t officially tell.

13 Dec
Free-floating anxiety. Tried all day to reach Mom on her cell phone. She had her headphones on and couldn’t hear the phone. I’m exhausted. It makes the imagination a wee bit crazy sometimes. I managed to calm down after I talked to her. I need to take up meditation or something.

14 Dec
Obviously handing out a high-powered weapon to anyone who wants one is a great idea. /bitter irony

17 Dec
On the drive back from visiting Mom at noon I couldn’t take listening to tragedy anymore so punched the button for KUSC. Just in time for Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus. And yes, I sang along!

18 Dec
The clouds this morning a fuzzy gray blanket lying heavy on the tops of the Santa Monica Mountains and tucked in over the foothills and city.

18 Dec
Driving around yesterday I saw several celebrities. Robert Pattinson (not really) was driving towards the airport at Lincoln & 83rd in a late model muscle car that had been primed gray but not painted. Edgar Winter (not really), dressed all in black, crossed the street at Lincoln headed towards Marina del Rey Hospital. Stephen Fry (not really), his hair grown out long, crossed in front of me at Pacific and Windward heading towards the Venice Circle. At that point I really did begin to wonder if there was a celebrity lookalike convention in town or something.

11 Sep
Vegetarians sure do spend a lot of time concocting meat substitutes. That isn’t a judgment, just an ironic observation.

12 Sep
It’s amazing how much our sugar bill goes up this time of year as the hummingbirds get ready to migrate south and tank up on our feeders.

13 Sep
Editing. After all the years and the disappointments, I still hope. I don’t know if that’s my folly or my strength. Why can’t it be both? I suppose it can.

Side note: HUGE congratulations to my friend, Elizabeth Hull (darkspires), who after many years and many disappointments just sold her novel, Darkspire Reaches, to Holland House.

13 Sep
A little wild finch landed on the table next to me and looked up expecting a snack. I felt guilty. Meanwhile, the old asshole at the next table is throwing water at them.

14 Sep
You know, I don’t use ellipses enough in my…writing.

16 Sep
Day 3.5 of Crud on Earth and I’m watching UFOs Over Earth. Perfect crud-brain viewing. At least the record breaking heatwave has temporarily abated. Fans and head colds are not a happy combination.

18 Sep
Somewhere a Romney sings but not for me.

I have too many show tunes in my head. I blame it on MGM, Gene Kelly, and Donald O’Connor.

18 Sep
Now my mother has this damned cold. She’s sick as a dog. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

19 Sep
Lindsay Lohan is looking about 40 these days—and that’s in her glamour shots. What the partying life does for you.

20 Sep
The space shuttle is supposed to fly over Santa Monica pier, quite near our building at work, on its farewell tour of L.A. tomorrow. We’re hoping the west side of our building doesn’t sink as everyone rushes to that side, or the balconies don’t collapse.

20 Sep
Last Monday, the 17th, was “Respect for the Aged Day.” Which is ironic, considering at least one phone conversation I had.

21 Sep
The Endeavour fly over anticipation here at work is very high. We expect it to buzz right by the building when it passes Santa Monica Pier.

21 Sep
AWESOME! Endeavour flew by Santa Monica Pier about 1 minute ago! So close! And apparently I don’t know how to take pictures of space shuttles with a cell phone. 🙁 My work compadres are sharing their photos, though, so it’s all cool. 🙂 Some of the talented photographers here got great close ups and even a really awesome movie.

24 Sep
Rule of thumb: any 365 calendar or book that describes itself as “hilarious” probably isn’t.

26 Sep
The view of the Shuttle Endeavour from my ‘hood. I live about 5 blocks due west of here (the direction shuttle is flying).

27 Sep
It’s amazing to me how otherwise smart people think you can be infected by the same cold/virus twice. Not how the immune system works.

29 Sep
Being alone with Caregiving 101 is the worst thing. No one can help me, really.

30 Sep
My neighbor brought over a surprise belated birthday cake and champagne! It was very sweet of them. And great cake. Steve is a great baker.

1 Oct
A literal wall of fog: coming down from the Playa del Rey bluffs this morning the L.A. Basin was completely covered in fog, only the very tips of the tallest mountains in the Santa Monica range showing. Down in the basin, driving through the Marina, the trees were shadows behind rice paper walls until I came within twenty feet of them and they emerged, soft-edged. It’s supposed to burn off and bring record heat in its wake.

18 Jul
A peregrine falcon has been hunting the bird feeder the last three days. I knew he was around because the little bitty birds don’t eat all the food in the bird feeder by the end of the day. This morning I saw him—actually walking on the ground around my car parked in the driveway. Some little critters must have scurried under to hide. I don’t begrudge the falcon doing what he has to do to survive, but I’m always glad when the little bits manage to elude him. Still, he was gorgeous. When I looked outside to call, “Mr. Peregrine, what are you doing?” he gave me such a look. “What the hell do you think I’m doing dork?” Regal falcons really know how to put you in your place. And he was a different one from last year. That one was light-headed, this guy had a dark brown head. Beautiful, beautiful creature.

16 Jul
“About 4000 Klimt drawings survive, and an indeterminate number more were clawed and peed upon by the cats that roamed his studio.”

Wait, did Klimt live at my house? Ah, the ironic fate of the artist! Who has cats.

15 Jul
Whenever I hear Morgan Freeman narrate Through the Wormhole it’s like listening to God explain the cosmos.

13 Jul
Mustard is a very persistent condiment, kind of like the Troll of the food world. Just sayin’.

12 Jul
A motorcycle cop stepped into traffic on Lincoln Blvd. hill near Jefferson, where the presidents meet. He let three tonier cars pass but flagged down the ancient Toyota covered in Bondo. Economical profiling? This didn’t strike me as a very safe way to do a traffic stop. I eyed him suspiciously as I passed to see if he was a fake cop.

12 Jul
A Ferris wheel and Tilt-a-Whirl in the middle of Windward Avenue this morning, and other carnival rides arrayed around Venice Circle.

11 Jul
I liked Crones Don’t Whine but I’ve had to stop reading it because I’ve decided to embrace my Inner Whiner. As well as my Inner Martyr, my Inner Bitter Old Hag, my Inner Depressive and my Inner Constant Complainer.

Because as Jane Wagner said, “I personally think we developed language because of our deep inner need to complain.”

9 Jul
My mind is on fire with a new-old idea but what can I do with it in this world of No Damned Time?

9 Jul
I should write a book about remembering the good and letting go of the bad. I’ll call it Remember This, Not That.

6 Jul
That supporting actress who was on that show that I can’t remember the name of…I ran into her twice in three days.