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le 08 septembre 2019


I am up early again, w/ coffee. In the kitchen, I keep one radio station going non-stop. I turn it up when the crazy man downstairs starts stomping or banging. This is Sunday morning - time for gospel music on that station. A male choir is singing, "He touched me! He touched me! And now I am saved!" It is bizarre that they don't have a clue as to the irony in what they are saying. For they know not what they do.

Months ago, the new white neighbour guy, who has been goaded by A-hole Guy to hate me, came over and complained about hearing gospel music across from his window, on a Sunday morning, etc. I was polite and said I'd turn it down - but he kept drilling into me so I stung him and he retreated into thin air. Because the new whites assume that the only people they are supposed to be afraid of, (respect), are the blacks. God forbid a white guy be playing gospel music. (I don't even like white gospel music but the radio stays ON).

Only blacks get to be expressive, around here, ad absurdium.  This is a black neighbourhood within a German USA city.  Imagine the possibilities.  Not many Irish around here.

One black man walked past as I stepped out with my dog, the other day. "Oh, no - More crap," I thought. But he was a decent person and waved at me, so I said hi.  Always ready to say hi. I am thinking that this might be someone who got wind that someone complained about gospel music coming from my apartment. So, he is probably a church-goer who now thinks I am on the GOOD side. I am one of the holy ones. Who understands. I don't even go to church - which is always a big problem for me, whatever neighbourhood I am stuck with.  I must be the devil.

What idiocy, either way. It's like when I was attacked for, "Voting for Trump," (wut?!), but then, after I grew a pony tail, I was messed with because it was assumed I was a wimpy liberal. I am living in a world of cardboard cut-outs.

Yesterday, watched movie, "Indignation," based on the Phillip Roth novel. some of it reminds me a lot of my own existence in this god-fearing cuntry, I am sure I will do a mini-review later.

Philosophical posts may also be coming up.

I am currently boiling up tea; and chicken thighs for my dog.  With my kitchen exhaust fan calmly blowing.  Wafting sleep-disturbing deliciousness at the heathen across the way.  (This is not passive aggression, though.  I time how and when my fan blows.  So I had to take advantage of it exhausting this morning, or else be stuck with a more humid apartment, and unruly dog. I am trying to keep the humidity, and temperature, down, because of aforementioned cockroaches, [sic].

A Letter to No one

Posted by jannaboo on 2019.09.08 at 11:14
Originally posted by jannaboo in freewriters. Reposted by madman101 at 2019-09-08 11:14:00.

I am writing a letter to No one.
Because No one will help me.
No one will listen.
When No one reads this letter No one will know.
No one will understand.
No one will help.


* - galaxy

Department of Redundancy Department

Posted on 2019.09.08 at 16:37
Tags:
My third Jane Austin movie in a row, "Sense and Sensibility," (1995).  Winslet, Thompson, Grant, Laurie.  This is the only movie where I didn't writhe in loathing over Hugh Grant.  Apparently, there are two more versions of S&S at the library, waiting for me to watch.  It's important that I do this / I'm gay.

In every one of these movies, the same characters, devices and themes arise, again and again.  It's such fun tracking them.  Nevertheless, each work brings its own unique satisfaction, wuithout fail.  It betrays that, despite how limitted was the realm in which Austin dwelt, she always mastered a whole new world out of limitted parts.  That is genius, even when provincial.  And, there is much to be said for drumming in the same messages, in one form, and then in another - it is a great way to educate.  I do the same thing when it comes to my heavier LJ posts.  I am perfectly fine in repeating myself, in alternate, new ways.  Like history, like poetry, life's lessons do not so much repeat as they do rhyme.

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