Stalling Again

...a thousand pages, give or take a few /I'll be writing more in a week or two/ I could make it longer if you like the style...

I'd say sorry for not posting more often, but I wonder, really, is anyone reading? Like, does anyone have the patience for it? It's all doomscrolling, echo chambers, clickbait and headlines.

TikTok has taken over where X, formerly known as Twitter, used to rule, and Twitter, though older, was higher profile than Instagram, all of which have supplanted Facebook, leaving it mostly to grandparently-aged folk, which is okay with me, since that age bracket describes most of my friends and much of my family. I'm guessing the longform of essay writing as a community activity is officially dead, which DanTobin DanTobin proclaimed years and years ago. Vines are also dead, but I'm not sure why they needed to die.

But at any rate, relevancy. Blogging as I understand it seems as if it might be returning, on a mysterious platform known as Substack, which may be different from Wordpress and Live Journal, but I'm not sure in what ways.  Among folk returning to the long form are  childhood pal Tim Kreider, my Blogger pal Dan Tobin, another Blogger pal formerly known as Totsie, and I get email notifications about Substacks I've... followed? I think followed, or maybe subscribed to? ...but not with a paid subscription like NYT or Patreon. I suppose I could ask a Substacker to explain to me what the benefits/ differences are of Substack to Blogger, but I hesitate to waste anyone's time with idle curiosity, because that's all it is. I certainly won't abandon my blog to start a new one; jeeze, this blog is almost as old as my grownass adult offsprings. 

I'm working on a "proper" blog entry, complete with links n stuff, as one does, and obviously I'm also working on (read: dodging completing) another review. The show has closed, but in my defense, I watched it on its final performance and immediately came down with Covid. 

I'm vaccinated, so it's uncomfortable and inconvenient and incapacitating, but not dangerous or likely to result in a hospital stay. I have, however, been knocked on my ass. I've slept on the couch since Monday, October 30th, and yesterday afternoon, had my 2nd shower since October 29th.

Today is the first day since the 30th that I've felt anything close to my normal self, and even so, maybe not, because I'm hoarding my methylphenidate. Our insurance, along with Gomez's job, ended in the middle of October, and I haven't sorted how to get new health coverage because, well, I've been sick. 

And I'm job hunting. Still. 

In other news, I'm worried about Mother, whom I've not seen in a month, as the care home in which she resides is about to be sold to an outfit which doesn't have a stellar reputation and has already notified residents of rate increases. Which won't affect us, because Mother was out of money ages ago, and has been a beneficiary of the Benevolent fund, which, along with Medicare/ Medicaid, pays for her residency. If that fund goes away, I don't know what we'll do. I'm sick at the stomach about it, but talking about it doesn't help. What are we to do with folk who outlive their money? 

But here we are. And here I am, not doing any of the things I'm usually doing, housework, yard work, showing up for any of my joblets... well, except for this one thing, stalling. 

Avoiding writing the thing I'm supposed to be writing, by writing something else entirely.

Seems like I'm ALWAYS doing THAT. 

The Beatles; "Paperback Writer;" Single, released May 1966

Quicksilver Changes

...root yourself to the ground/ capitalize on this good fortune/ one word can bring you round....

I'm back, watching the Olympics.... no, sorry; ya'll who get that reference, thanks for being forever friends with me. In fact, I'm listening to the World Series, Diamondbacks at Rangers for Game 1, specifically. 

I don't know if people without ADD open a tab, think of a thing, open another tab, and then, seven more tabs and $87.54 later, struggle desperately to recall what it is they had INTENDED to do when signing onto the computer three and a half hours ago.

No? Just me?

Okay, so at any rate.....

I'm supposed to be writing a review- which I will finish, eventually- I feel like I have a Yogi Berra-ism in me to the effect that of writing is 70% stalling, 20% facts, and the other half is perspiration-  of something wonderful I watched last night. In fact, I've finished writing it and will shortly be listening to Game 2 of the World Series. The review's now in my editor's hands.

As is my habit, I have several windows open JUST for the thing I'm writing, plus additional ones open because I'm hunting for work (anyone reading this, ya hiring?) so instead of being responsible, limiting myself to just the pertinent ones, or heavens forfend, CLOSING any of them....

...I begin breadcrumb-trailing a song I heard once on The Muppet Show (Episode 310, with Marisa Berenson, original air date December 1978) that I thought thematically fit the show I'd just seen, Cabaret Macabre, which I saw for the first time in 2014 because, primarily, of this song by Tom Waits in the show, which, by the way, is LOADS better when sung by the glorious Sarah Olmsted Thomas of Happenstance Theater.

Now, even though I'd seen the sketch in '78, the song stuck with me. In fact, once, more than a decade later, in the car with my (then) boyfriend and Mother, someone said "our house" and three of us sang a riff from three different songs. Mother sang Crosby, Stills and Nash, Gomez sang the one by Madness, and, well, I've told you mine. 

I find video of the sketch I remember, then, after investigating Marisa Berensen, who was a model and I theoretically saw her in Barry Lyndon, (a movie which I remember as being lyrically beautiful and also scarring) and her sister who died when her plane collided with a famous NYC building, I fall down a rabbit hole regarding Shel Silverstein being the writer of that song (yes, The Giving Tree dude, I KNOW)...

...but then chance upon a summation / interpretation of the song and, well. 

Ya know, when someone on the internet is wrong, Something Must Be Done. 

When I came upon it, the article discussed how the song was about inclusion and acceptance. It included "lyrics" from the song which are not there. It talked about the supportive nature of the sweet song. 

It talked about the song "The Giving Tree" that Silverstein had written- which he hadn't; it's by Plain White Tees, released in 2013, four years after Silverstein's death. The song references the children's book of the same name, but isn't remotely BY Silverstein. Good song, though. 

The erroneous article mentioned that Shel Silverstein wrote "A Boy Named Sue," a singular part of the article which was accurate. Now, I went internet hunting, as I was certain that was a Johnny Cash song, and I wasn't entirely wrong about that.  Johnny Cash performed it for the first time at San Quentin in 1969. But no, it was true that Shel Silverstein wrote "A Boy Named Sue," partly due to a conversation he had with Jean Shephard (yes, of A Christmas Story fame, based on In God We Trust- All Others Pay Cash, that looks like a collection of short stories- which he always claimed it wasn't, it was a novel, but it was never his idea to repackage his radio memories anyhow; they were recorded and transcribed by guess who, yep, Shel Silverstein)

 Johnny Cash, on that fateful day in San Quentin, performed the song somewhat differently from how Silverstein imagined and recorded it.  If you're new to "A Boy Named Sue," you're not alone. The Twins hadn't heard it, either.

At any rate, I debated in a comment the author's conclusions. I used the phrase "egregiously, verifiably, factually wrong." I questioned whether the writer was AI. I said that howsomever the author had reached his conclusion, it was obviously not through careful research of the original source material. 

Fewer than 24 hours later, it's as if the original had never existed. Wish I'd screen-shotted that nonsense. My comment, naturally, is also missing. 

YES; "Changes" 1983

Now, Baseball.....

...The crack of the bat, the stadiums roar/We were up on our feet for the tie breaking score....

On Mon, Oct 2, 2023 at 7:50 PM {Redacted}wrote:

 

Hi Cybele,

Are you available for a possible {Historical Character}gig on 11/30/23 

in Washington, DC from 6:15-8:15pm?

Do you own the costume and what is your rate?

Thank you,  

[Signature]

 

On Tue, Oct 3, 2023 at 3:10 PM Cybele Pomeroy <cybele> wrote:

 

Hi, [Agent's Name]

I do own the {Historical Character} costume you may have seen in my photographs. My rate is {Redacted}

Are you for real asking me about the 30th of November? Or did you mean the 30th of October?

You sent me a text message about October 28th.

If you for real meant the 30th of November, I'm available. Same for the 28th of November. 

If you meant October 30th, now we need to talk about baseball. 

I will be available on the evening of the 30th if the American League Pennant winner is ANY team other than the Orioles.

If the Orioles win the American League Pennant, and if the National League Pennant winner is ANY team other than the Atlanta Braves, I will be available on October 30th. 

But if the World Series is Atlanta vs Baltimore, I will NOT be available on October 30th. 

If the World Series is Atlanta vs Baltimore, I WILL be available October 28th.

If it's the Orioles and  ANY OTHER National League TEAM, I will NOT be available October 28th. 

There's a lot of baseball games between now and then. Either team could be eliminated as soon as October 12th.

Whether or not you root for the Atlanta Braves will depend largely on which date is the one you meant. Rooting for the Orioles is required. 

xox

Cybele

On Tue, Oct 3, 2023 at 4:15 PM {Redacted} wrote:

 

I am laughing so hard reading your email. OMG if the Orioles make the World Series!!!

The event for {Historical Character} is 11/30/28. Please hold the date.

Thank you,  

[Signature]

 

On Tue, Oct 3, 2023 at 5:03 PM Cybele Pomeroy <cybele> wrote:

 

[Agent's Name], my love,

I can hold 11/30/23, and will happily put {Historical Character, Agency Name} on that date, IN INK.

But if you really for realsies meant 2028, I must tell you, I don't yet have a calendar for 2028.

I calculated baseball schedules, and you're asking me about a date five years from now? 

Girl, please. 

xox

C

Still Lol, omg I/m working way too fast plus in college application and pre screen video he** right now.

You make me laugh and I appreciate that. 

It's nice to be appreciated for fun things instead of as a cautionary example. 

Corey Smith, The Baseball Song, 2015

Filtering Artificiality

...I have no privacy (oh, oh)/ I always feel like somebody's watching me....

In an effort to foil Artificial Intelligence taking over the world IMMEDIATELY, the survey/ focus group/ product research company that I've become loosely affiliated with has begun to include an 'essay question' on their qualification surveys. This particular survey was about Narcolepsy, and whether I'm actually chosen or not is entirely immaterial to this post. 

One of the questions has a list of colors as responses, and the "question" is 'Select Orange as a response.' Maybe that's to see if you're a human who is paying attention, because I'm not sure how that would be a difficult one for AI to manage accurately. 

It is true, however, that I know little about AI. I've been deliberately avoiding fiddling with it on my computer, because I have no interest in helping it become smarter. I also refuse to talk to the spy device I carry in my purse or pocket. Google keeps asking me to speak aloud to its "Assistant" but I know if I do that even ONCE, the 'listening' function will wake and never go to sleep again, in order to be alert when I say "Hey, Google...." 

I also don't provide voice responses to the Automated Systems on the telephone. One particularly annoying one says "Oh, you don't have to press buttons. Just tell me how I can help you, by saying 'Customer Service' or 'Make A Payment.' I ignore that and keep touching my 'keypad' numbers. When I get a human being, (eventually), I tell them, "It's my policy to not speak to robots." They almost always say, "That's completely understandable." 

In any case, the "essay" I created has nothing to do with Narcolepsy, nothing to do with AI, and nothing to do with smart device who listen in order to target market to their users, and everything to do with me and my feelings of loss and regret. 

The prompt: If you could have dinner with any three people, past or present, who would you choose and why?

The response:

If I could have dinner with any 3 people, past or present, I'd choose my Mother before she had Alzheimer's disease, and also my Grandmother, before SHE had Alzheimer's disease, and my sister, whom I don't get to see very often. I'd have dinner with my Mom and Grand as they were in 1985, but my sister and I could be ourselves as we are now. I didn't know how much I needed to appreciate their wit and humor. I miss that about them. I miss it even more when I'm with Mother, who hasn't died, but she isn't who I think of as "My Mother" anymore. 

None of that is particularly surprising, I suppose, but the question poked me kind of sideways, and my response surprised me. Like, I was THERE with my sister and mother and Grandmother in 1985, but I wasn't yet who I AM, the person I think of as the "real" me. And "real" me didn't get a chance to enjoy Mother, or Grandmother, as much as I might have wished, because I didn't know. The last time she visited Maryland in 1998, to meet my newest baby, Grandmother was slipping into dementia.

We can create AI and Viagra, but we can't fix Alzheimer's Disease. Sigh.

Rockwell; Somebody's Watching Me (1984)