As of today, June 9, 2009, I will no longer be updating this blog. I have moved most of it over to my regular website, naylandblake.net, and new posts will be going up over there.
Just made it back from the premier of Pornography, a film that should have an LiveJournal credit line, given all the talent from our little digital backwater both in front of and behind the camera. The screening was packed, so much so that an extra screening has been added. So congrats David and Sean: it’s a thoughtful twisty thriller. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay for the Q&A.
Around the house, much work was done, by me. The work desk is in better shape than it has been in months.
Pals for Sunday poker and cigars. Kerry, Boymeat, Scotty, Scot, Thor ad Lolita. We played the usual silly dealer’s choice games. Everyone brought very responsible snacks, including the unpictured , who brought cupcakes that were delightfully tidy as well as tasty.
Eventually I will forgive Boymeat for winning so much money all the time, especially since I managed to come out a few buck ahead myself. Lehigh is glad of the company and attention for a while until the smoke gets to be too much and she retreats to the other end of the house. She gets treats from the visitors, but even so I can tell that there are times when people get to be to much for her. Not unlike myself actually. But afterwards, once everyone has left, she is eager for cuddles and kisses from me. A little bit or reassurance.
We are in the full force of summer. People walking along the block, taking it easy. The windows are wide open, to aid in clearing out the smoke. The air that flows in through them is luscious.
After many big thanks to blog mommy, I’ve managed to get naylandblake.net back up and running in a certain form. At this point it’s basically a new version of my wordpress blog, but I’ve come to the realization that it’s easier to get that going than to to a complete rebuild. There’s a lot more that I need to learn to really give the site character, but for now I’m happy to get more of the content up there. The new plan is to mirror this blog over there, and probably to let the wordpress.com blog go. I’ll have to break my addiction to wordpress stats however.
I do find myself inordinately proud of the little bits of fiddling I’ve been able to do with the code, even though there are certain things I’m stumped by.
I’ve done a bit of movie viewing this week: Drag Me To Hell and Up. Both quite satisfactory. Drag inparticular was a reach back to the monster movie as a scary fun house ride, as opposed to the recent trend in putting the audience in the position of unwilling torturer.
I’m reading Lydia Lunch’s Parodxia. About halfway through. I’ve never been much of a fan, and this isn’t serving to change my mind.
In anticipation of poker this weekend, I went out and picked up some cigars. I have to say that I haven’t been smoking as much lately. It’s just something that I’ve been forgetting to do. The fact that I can type that sentence probably means I’m not an addict.
Last night I got some stellar help from the Sainted Blog Mommy and moved one step closer to recovering from last years big crash. Today I’m picking up some risque undergarments for a certain someone. Yeah, it’s a good life.
Doing laundry makes me turn out my pockets. Turning out my pockets reveals micro-clutter, the scraps that I don’t take the trouble to shift from pant to pant, the dribs and drabs that I unconsciously accrue.
The stuff that truly drives me nuts.
Here’s one culprit: drinking straw wrappers. I am forever finding these rolled pellets of paper about my person. If I don’t catch them before the wash, they emerge as paper mache’ rabbit turds. Or i find them as I’m out walking around, trying to get change out of my pocket. Why is it that they anger me so? Perhaps because they represent a problem that I never seem to be able to solve. I like cold drinks and I like to drink them through a straw. Straws have wrappers that must be removed. One solution is to tear one end of the wrapper and use the rest as a projectile, blowing it at someone else. But I hate to litter. I still feel responsible for the wrapper. The six-year-old’s solution doesn’t work for me. So I pick it up and roll it tight and then look around for some place to dispose of it. In New York, the problem is compounded by the fact that many garbage cans on the street are open mesh types, meaning that I can’t throw something as small at a rolled wrapper in there, because it would just pass through. It’s at that point, while I wait to find an enclosed receptacle, that I often forget that I still have to deal with the wrapper. When my fingers come across it later, I’m annoyed and dissapointed. It’s like finding out that I forgot to pay my phone bill: a responsibility deferred.
Somehow, when it comes to questions like what am I doing with my life, my sang froid remains intact. But when I ask “what am I going to do with this little strip of paper”, I’m trapped in an emotional vortex.