Wednesday, August 13, 2008

I can hear the eerie sounds of "A Day in the Life" floating across the cubicles...

I had a client come in yesterday whose middle name was Pecola. I was reminded of Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye and the stage version of it I saw in Hartford during my girls' bachelorette Yankee weekend. Look, Liz, I even found a picture!

I have not seen too many plays, to be honest. It's kind of a form of entertainment that I just forget about. But this version of The Bluest Eye was so masterfully done, it was a real treat. I had read the book years ago in high school, and I was really happily surprised when L&R told me we had tickets to see it. It was just perfect.

So my dear husband is in California for the week; his brother works in Sequoia National Park (I think that's the one) and he had been wanting him to come visit him so that they can go hiking and bond over cans of beans and beef jerky. That leaves me at home by myself, free to loll around the bed watching episodes of Intervention and eating cereal for supper. That was yesterday; I plan on being more productive tonight. We'll see. I've got a can of Red Bull worked into the plan that may help.

El Tee and I (God, don't these cute nicknames make you sick!) went and saw Gonzo on Monday night. I really didn't know that much about Hunter S. Thompson; don't tell anyone, but although I lived in Murfreesboro for 5 years, I never read or saw Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. I'd have my M'boro citizenship revoked for that one. The recreational drug patrol will go back in time and remove all psychotropic goodies from my sweaty palm before I get the chance to swallow/chew/snort them up, and only Jesus knows how my present will be affected. Probably I'd wake up a lawyer.... jeeeez.

Anyway, I liked the movie. Basically, if someone's past involves any illicit activities, I want to know all about them. Also, the whole element of Thompson committing suicide because he felt he was obsolete was interesting to me. The suicide note: "No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun -- for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax -- This won't hurt." I've been having little conversations with myself about all this (bear in mind, I'm not that well informed; I hear there are some conspiracy theories). On the one hand, I do think that although suicide should never be glamorized and all that hoohah that you, of course, have to say regarding it, Jesus Christ, it does kind of take some balls to succinctly end your life. But maybe not?? Maybe if you never bought into the heaven/hell scenario and you don't give a shit what may or may not follow, you can end it without fear. The argument arises then that it's selfish. Selfish because of his wife & son and everyone else who cared about him. But what kind of life is lived with one who doesn't give a shit anymore? None of this is very enlightening, I know. As far as euthanasia goes, I do think that people should be able to end their lives when they choose; but this made me think about that idea as more than just something that applies when a person is terribly ill, but if the same laws should be applied when one is merely sick and tired of living. Hmmm.

I guess the point really is: Damn, HST was a hottie.

We had a great weekend all together in Decatur County. My mother was the consummate Southern host, preparing approximately 2.3 tons of food and trying to deny anyone's help in cleaning up the messes. I was so happy to be surrounded by my lovely friends; they are so smart, so funny, and so mature. I love it! These women are confident and, most importantly, low-maintenance. Their husbands aren't half-bad either. I would give anything to have a big weeklong retreat every year at my mother's house for all our dear friends. Hammocks would definitely need to be installed.

I'm super excited to be going to the vigil @ Graceland this weekend, and to have my lovely friend Claudia visiting for the weekend. I am hoping to show her a good time. Is anybody else wanting to go to the vigil? I don't know why in the hell you wouldn't.


theogeo said...

Yeah, he was a hot ass. A fucking hot-ass weirdo. My kind of man.

I'm still pissed that he actually did it, though. Poetic or no, it's just ... le sigh. How would you have liked to have been ol' Anita on the phone with him when he did it? Sheesus.

You know I used to have a ferret named Dr. Gonzo, right? For some reason, I always forget that we named him after HST's character. And wasn't there an M'boro band named Dr. Gonzo too?


schmutzfynk said...

it's kind of admirable when people quit while they're ahead, so to speak. going out with a bang and all that. a gunshot bang is perhaps a bit extreme, but you know...

BetteDavisLies said...

Ditto on Thompson's hotass. Whoa! I'd love to see the film. That bit about the 'boro made me fall out my chair.


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