Death, Life, Irrelevancies

This morning, in the throes of a newfound (and probably temporary) resolve to blog - even though not one damn person has ever read this bog other than me (next, I will try to somehow ascertain how to spread the word - assuming I decide i want to do that) - anyhow, throes and all - in between readying the Blue Apron ingrediants for a cheese on foccaccia dish later, putting on sweats,  making a quick assessment of what I must do today (most of  which is in the list of the things I didn't do yesterday - making lists is an endeavor that does not seem to move me one iota forward from the deep pit of lethargy and discarded good intentions) -and preparing to do a run/racewalk for maybe 30 minutes, ending at Marianos for an oatmeal, and  restocking of kale, chard, peppers, a small milk, and some olive oil - after preparing for all that.

Here I am.............writing nothing.

There are words spewing out onto the white screen as my fingers (newly painted in silver- don't ask) move with resolve and energy and speed , tap tapping on the keyboard - but words are just that unless they attach themselves to other words that in the entirety of their joining become something worthwhile, or at least interesting, or at a minimum - articulate.

Apparently, no hope of that this morning.

At least my new phone - the gifted Moto X - the one I am, after four days, still slowly getting to know (it's the same with most new relationships) - at least it now displays Chicago time.  After mucking arund with it for almost an hour yesterday when I discovered it thought I was on the east coast, and finally (I really don't recall how) , after going into every possible setting and app that could affect the time, made it understand that it was indeed Central time here...................well, I woke this morning and the window across my bedroom - the narrow sliver of window in which a wicker basket of small teddy bears sits - that window showed a grey sky perhaps an hour or two away from daylight.  The damn Moto, however - which I reflexively punched when its alarm rang (at what it told me was 7:30 am) and then rested against my bent knees to use to check e mails etc. - it  displayed a clear digital white reading on its black surface - yes, indeed, it was 8:30 in the morning.   I shone the screen onto my wristwatch as a mini flashlight - and my wristwatch told me it was 6:30 am.   That of course jibed with the sky and the world as I could see it from my under-quilt snuggly position.  So, 45 minutes later - again, after trying things too numerous to describe - all over the screen, general settings, clock settings, location settings, etc. - discovered when I checked the online 'help" menu and then went to reset "time and date" (had not even thought of that, since it is something on this damn machine that happens automatically,including initially) that it was set for central america - Bogota Columbia, to be exact.  How did that happen in the middle of the night with the fucking  thing on my nightstand?   Probably the same gremlins who periodically make my AOL software freeze so that nothing can be touched or pressed without a complaining "beep beep" that says in translation  "nah nah nah nah nah- I'm on strike". Oh - I DID try to "reboot" the Moto (that usually works with PC related shit) but no.................after three reboots and revivals, I was still in Bogota.

So it has thus far not been an auspicious beginning to what will I am sure be a shit day anyway, what with the client projects I really need to get to, the  run I probaby won't take (ok - probably will racewalk to Marianos since I'm already dressed, and do need the kale), the NAWBO article I just recalled I have to finish by today,  the dust and piles of papers collecting around me (I am way overdue in cleaning the apartment ), and the fact that now yet another week has passed, another week without the progress I promise myself will suddenly start occurring.

I am down another pound.

I have counted WW points for the last three days, and done well.

I did read the Washington Post this morning on the Moto while still in bed (at least the hard articles and commentary on the Russian situation - disturbing).

And I have written this blog entry - this lousy , meandering entry.

Which I called "Death, life, irrelevancies."  Why?

Oh, yes.  Death.  Too much of it lately.  I know it is inevitable and a constant, but dammit, I don't need to suddenly be reminded of it so vividly.  In the last 9 months - Amos, Sandra, Myrna, Catherine, and now Pat's spouse Vernita  (she was Pat's  first real relationship  after she came out, and Pat and Vernita were the first GLBT couple to marry in Illinois under the new law - with much fanfare).   The last one - Vernita's passing -  is in some ways the hardest for a number of reasons.  She was an important, vivid, exciting figure in the GLBT movement, civil rights, and other progressive causes - ever since her first awakening at Woodstock I recently discovered.. And that is the problem - my personal problem - the word "recently".  Her spouse Pat has been a friend of mine for many years, and I have met Vernita several times, though briefly, at her apartment during their annual Xmas bashes - but I have never gotten to know her.  I did ask Pat and Vernita to join me for lunch or dinner, but that was only in the last six months, after she had become so weakened that it was a hard choice to make such plans.  Now, I am getting to know her - since the announcement of her death yesterday morning - by watching You Tube videos of her speeches,  reading her biography, seeing the NBC piece about her - incuding the lovely Mary Morton description of who she -Vernita - was, and watching their wedding on You Tube.  And the result is that I want to get to know her better.  I want to sit with her over a glass of wine and talk about the history of the womens' movement, and civil rights, and politics, and this country, and black and white, and just girl talk and the talk of intelligent articulate people with similar world views.  And it is too late.  She is gone.  So many things that we delay can no longer happen.  That is the reality that the death of Vernita, and of others, and my aging body, and the bulbous face of Kim Novak on the Oscars, and the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman through a drug overdose in the prime of his talent and creativity after having kicked the habit and found a loving relationship,  and .............and...............and................all of the reminders smacking me across my face - more so lately than ever - that this life is going to end, and nothing and no one can tell you when and how - and if you (I) want to do something there may not be a "later" or "after I get this one other thing done"  or even another horizen.

That is the shit fact.  The truth.  The reality.

Most of us ward it off by forgetting it exists.  We live each day as if we have forever.

That was easier when I was twenty.  And forty.  But now, I'm approaching.................................(I almost cannot say it).........seventy!  

I cannot live even one day with the theory that..............I'll do that or get to that or write that or call him or her later.  Always later.

I already made that decision years ago, when that four year period from Hades occurred - during which my law firm and marriage broke up, my mother and father died, two of my children were injured, and I discovered and had surgery for breast cancer.

And I have run off to France when I feel like it, and written short stories, and spent a lot of time hugging grandkids.

but

A big but.

In the daily living of life, in between those life affirming and living -in-the-present actions - in the daily living, let's face it.  I'm a time waster - big time time waster.  Real Housewives and NCIS and computer games and re reading Travis McGee books etc.

For Philip Seymour Hoffman, later has stopped.  And for Vernita, and Catherine, and Sandra, and Amos and Myrna, and Paul Newman (I cried while crossing the Grant Park swale when I read that on my old smart phone a few years ago), and for I.J. and Bernice and Bobo and Herby.

The world keeps getting emptier.

They say - whoever the Hell "they" are - that you should live each day as if it were your last.  Well, that doesn't work because if it were really my last I would take every last penny in my puny - very puny - 401(k) accunt and do something with it - something that involves a foreign country and all of my kids and grandkids celebrating that last day in a glorious way.

But at least one should live each day with the knowledge that things may be over soon.  or not.

When the Hell am I ever going to write that novel?  Or those short stories? or read the rest of Proust?  Or read, thoughtfully, and with recall, all of the books i have on writing?  Or get a physical checkup?  Or become a runner again (recalling now the wind in my hair and the clarity of thought and clearness of breath and joy  I felt and had when I was running down the Lakefront in good condition) or  tighten my muscles (recalling the prideful high I had when I passed a mirror on a street and saw the then fifties firm body that was me) .????????

Ok - now I have managed to cause a deep lump in my gullet, and moisture behing my eyeballs.

I need to take that damn run or racewalk.

I'm done.  With this blog post.   I will be back for another tomorrow (I think).

JUST WENT BACK TO THIS SITE ON A REAL COMPUTER = MY PC - WHICH IS THE ONLY WAY I AM COMFORTABLE REALLY WRITING ON IT - SO NOW, AN HOUR AFTER THIS ENTRY WAS ORIGINALLY POSTED, I CAN EDIT IT: (originally psted at 6:29 am; now editing at 8:59 am)

My son in law said I should blog instead of entering my wandering thughts onto facebook. Well, there are several problems.  One is that I have no audience for his blog.  No one knows about it.  And what good is it to throw thoughts out ito the universe if no one out there listens?  Secondly it is more dificult.  Just took me five minutes to find the thing and figure out again how to post entries.  It is now on my android's home screen, yet typing on the god damn android keyboard (loosely called such since it is only an interactive picture of a keyboard without keys) is challenging and annoying and I hate it.  For today, I have just paired the separate "real" keyboard that I use with my I Pad to the android using its Bluetooth.  But that is not practical since it is large and not generally in my pocket or on my nightstand with the android.  So for now, Chris, here is an entry but no promises for the future.  And you will admit, I am sure, in your own  articulate but curmudgeonly way, that this entry is shit.  Right?