Busy, Busy, Busy

[mallorys_camera]

Autumn is my least favorite season. I hate it even more than I hate winter.

Winter has, at least, the virtue of being one note, maybe F minor (hello-o-o-o-o Vivaldi!)

In contrast, autumn is just one long dalliance in minor keys, a veritable immersion in saudade: The trees flare up in one last defiant burst of color, the light—the beautiful light—seeps away, & you wonder, What did I do last summer, & why didn’t I do more of it?

In just a couple of weeks, they’re gonna end daylight savings time. It will get dark at 4:30 p.m.. Life will hardly be worth living…



Last five days were action-packed.

Atlantic City was weird, but then I knew it was gonna be weird, and anyway, the days I spent there were less about Atlantic City & more about spending time with Belinda, the myriad ways my chameleon-like persona essentially bent and folded to accommodate Belinda.

Don’t get me wrong: I like Belinda.

But she thinks we are closer friends than we are, a pattern with people that has repeated itself multiple times throughout my life mainly because I am positively geisha-like in my ability to mold myself to other people’s expectations. I am the best interviewer you’ll ever meet because people like to tell me all their secrets! Go figure, right?

Belinda has had a hard life. What I like best about her, in fact, are those glimpses of potential that reveal what she might have been like had her life not been so hard.

As it is, her difficult life has made her very managerial; thus, she was filled with advice about things I hadn’t asked for her advice on. You need to eat protein in the morning so your hands won’t shake, she told me. You can’t put leggings in the dryer! You need to go through yr credit card bills & other financial transactions at least twice a week to make sure no one’s trying to pull a fast one on you.

Did I mind her advice?

No, not really.

Though that doesn’t mean I listened to it.

I kinda figured it was mostly prompted by an unconscious desire to show off her survivor skills & perhaps a smidgeon of affection because on the drive home, she began reeling off all the fun things we could do in the future.

I thought (but did not say), Probably not.



I was kinda disappointed Atlantic City wasn’t seedier. The place is merely ugly.

All the old buildings have been torn down; in their stead are featureless stucco-façade anono-structures where I guess members of the service industry live & shop. The famous boardwalk is hardly worth strolling, though I suppose that could just have been the time of year, late September when the ambient light isn’t right for boardwalk strolling.

The beach was just awful. A dingy grey strip fronting the loudest & most charmless of the casinos, Hard Rock.

Of course, I’m not a big fan of casinos anyway since I don’t gamble and honestly don’t understand why anyone gambles, at least on slot machines since you can get exactly that same rush—flashing lights, goofy sound effects—playing Kandy Krush or Bejeweled Blitz on your phone. But the casinos in Vegas are interesting from a design vantage while the casinos in Atlantic City are just… tawdry.

Only one casino, the Tropicana, put any kind of energy at all into its décor. I do find this faux sky and cheesy colonial architecture kinda charming:



On the second night I was there, Iggy called in a fury: Mabel the cat had shat on the carpet.

Mabel has a strong vindictive streak and was obviously displeased her slave had disappeared.

Really, Iggy? I thought. You are calling me over this kind of—pun intended—petty shit?

It was clear he wanted penitence & remorse, so, of course, I gave it to him: You have the right as a property owner to be angry over incidents that jeopardize the integrity of yr property, blah, blah, blah.

The phone call stressed me out. Elevated cortisol levels make you pee a lot, hence I did not sleep well since I was hitting the bathroom every couple of hours.

Then the next morning, Iggy sent me an email with pix of the offending shit from every conceivable photographic angle.

This was actually pretty funny.

Really, Iggy? Are you out of your fucking mind? You had me at the phone call. Is your life with those demon-child spawn & their mother, whom you are still obviously in love with, so-o-o-o frustrating that you find the need to take your frustration out on someone you deem to have less power?

I wrote him back an eloquently crafted note, using the word “gratuitous” & detailing all the ways in which I am the most exemplary housemate he could possibly imagine.

I'm not pissed or anything and I know the tone of email is not the best way to convey ideas so don't think I'm angry, Iggy wrote back. I’m not. I do think you are a good housemate.

Then shove it, asshole, I thought.



Saturday, I presided over the petting zoo & the pony ride at the Weekend of Wallkill, the cutest little country fair you could possibly imagine. I made a great little video of the Doggie Costume Contest, which sadly, YouTube will not allow me to post here because copyright infringement. (I used Who Let the Dogs Out as the background track.)



Yesterday, I had coffee with my beloved Barbara Angell, who is upstate visiting the parents of her unbelievably gorgeous daughter Aemilia’s BF.

Here are Barbara & I when we were young & gorgeous ourselves:



And here we are 45 years later:



After that, I went out Harris/Walz canvassing in Ellenville, a strange little town on the outskirts of what was once the Borscht Belt.



And now—sigh!!!—I must work.

Comments

[puddleshark]

I do find this faux sky and cheesy colonial architecture kinda charming...

LOL

Oh, my. I thought some of our seaside towns were tawdry. But Atlantic City puts them in perspective.

Time is an illusion, and clocks lie

[bb_lurks_here_too]

Nice thing about being "off the clock" is that while the sun goes down "earlier" it also rises earlier. So a bit of adjustment in bedtimes works. For me, the problem is 4AM dawns, requiring me to get into bed by 10ish. We're not even tied to TV schedules that would keep us up for "The Late Show" because anything can be watched any time.

I know you're still working, but you're not on any clock time for that.

Re: Time is an illusion, and clocks lie

[mallorys_camera]

It's the amount of light that's the issue for me: When daylight dips beneath the 10.5 hour mark, my Seasonal Affective Disorder revs up. I know it's just brain chemistry, & I've trained myself to ignore it as much as I can, do lots o' cannabis & Vitamin D. But it's still difficult.

[mallorys_camera]

Atlantic City is singularly charmless, plus it has no history. So, ugh. 😀

[smokingboot]

You can't put leggings in the dryer? Who knew?

Autumn can be interesting and pretty but yes, I'm a Summer's child.

Iggy is definitely being weird.

[mallorys_camera]

Definitely. Fortunately, he's not here half the time.

And Mabel more than redeemed herself by catching two mice the day after I got home.

[asakiyume]

"I"m not pissed or anything" --whoa, dude! Then you send messages and photos like this when you're feeling cheerful and good with the universe? YIIIIIKES

I wish I could make myself very tiny and ride with you canvassing. I don't want to be seen; I don't want to interact, but I'd like to see what it's like.

Cute kid on pony! Cute you and Barbara (both ages)!

[mallorys_camera]

Honestly, if they had special education classes for people with exceptionally low emotional intelligence, Iggy would be in the most remedial class—and keep being left back! 😀