Serves Me Right To Suffer

With Joe's mother coming to visit in a few weeks I really need to tidy up the guest bedroom, so for the last few hours I've spent spring cleaning the room where I typically throw all my junk, rooting through things I forgot I had, dusting, vacuuming, putting away misplaced comic books, all while wearing a bra and sweatpants and the windows wide open and the breeze cooling my skin. Dvorak's "Piano Quartet in D Major, op. 23" is playing on the iTunes. It really is a gorgeous day. Earlier I afforded myself the rare opportunity to take off my shoes and socks and tiptoe barefoot through the overgrown brambles of my backyard to sit on the patio chair under the pear tree, swinging my soft, delicate feet through the dried mulch. I remember being a little girl and how I'd never, ever wear shoes if I could help it. Summers I spent with hard callouses and soles as black as tar that allowed me to step on anything and everything. Nowadays I never remove my socks unless I'm bathing. My feet are so sensitive now as a result. Soft as baby's skin. Just walking across the brick steps to the chair under the tree was a dreadfully prickly experience. I really need to toughen up again. Sigh. I really, really need to toughen up.

It's been a little over a year now since we moved into this townhouse. A little over a year since Tom died. And grandma. Soon the pool behind my backyard will be open for the season again. I can't wait to go swimming. I need exercise. Lord help me, I so need it. And not just to drop all this bloody stress-weight I've gain over the year. I need to climb up onto that old familiar endorphin kick and live off of that high again. I miss walking 2 hours every morning, swimming laps, fumbling around like an idiot on my fitball. Hell, I don't care if I don't have a hot body. I've never had a hot body, so it's never been a concern to me. I do, however, want a strong, healthy, effective body, like the one I had a bleedin' year ago. And I need to know the joy in that again. I need to be aware that I have that element backing me all the way.

I have accumulated a few new (okay, second-hand) items of diversion along the way this week.


Art Ensemble Of Chicago 2003 release of Tribute To Lester, which as the name implies is their loving homage to their late trumpeter Lester Bowie. This is my first ever AEC album and I've been craving to experience them, especially having Phil gush about them so fervently over the years, so it's ironic that the album that comes in over the used counter was the first one they did without their frontman. Still, ground-breaking cutting-edge avant garde jazz is still ground-breaking cutting-edge avant agrde jazz. Speaking of which, Ornette won a Pulizter. And I still haven't gotten that damn album yet!!


Who knew our sister stores in the local malls actually got good used product from time to time? Ganked The Films of Kenneth Anger, Vol. 1 which includes most of his earliest work; Fireworks (1947), Puce Moment (1949), Rabbit's Moon (1950, the rarely seen original 16 minute version), Eaux d'Artifice (1953) and Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome (1954). Extras include some rare outtakes from Rabbit's Moon and a pretty spiffy booklet with pictures and some mumbo jumbo from Martin Scorsese.

Oh, what am I reading right now? Something not second-hand for a change. I bought Bob Fingerman's Beg The Question, a graphic novel compiling issues from Fingerman's Minimum Wage comic into one continuing serial of Jewish pornographic cartoonist Rob and his hair stylist Italian girlfriend Sylvia, two hipster twenysomethings trying to hammer out a way of life together in New York City. So far it's been okay. I admit I grew weary of my own generation's Gen-X pop culture obsessed way of life at an early stage, and reading about it became even more excruciating. And these people aren't even my age! But even I have to admit I'm just as guilty as these kids are of quoting Mystery Science Theatre 3000 or wasting valuable hours of my day foraging through boxes of obscure DVDs tucked away under dealer's tables at various comic book conventions. I guess I'm embarrassed to admit I can relate. But it has its funny moments, and it sure doesn't skimp on the sex. I'll keep you informed if it holds my attention all the way through.

Boy, it certainly is a beautiful day. I'm in the mood for some fruit and sushi. Wow, just like last summer.