2024-11-14-21:22:02-Thursday-6

~inquiry

2024-11-14-21:22:02-Thursday-6

I was in my hometown for 90 minutes to so, today.

It was a restaurant that was an "IHOP" back in the day.

I returned there for a while after a failed marriage. Much had changed, and that change has morphed into even more change.

But despite being familiar with that pre-morphed change, the scenes that return to me when I look at various locations continues to be those of childhood.

For example, McDonald's still exists at the location it was when I was a child. But when first glance there, I see the building style there in childhood.

And so on.

And, of course, I don't want that to ever change.

And yet it's not something I can share with anyone.

Sure, I could discuss it with contemporaries.

But it turns out that others more often than not don't remember it as it was.

I mean as I remember it.

Same places, different movies.

Different observers.

Which thought makes communicating with others all but utterly useless, for why bother when there couldn't possibly be shared meaning? Just shared symbols with referents as many as observers/rememberers thereof.

Insanity....

2024-11-14-20:47:51-Thursday-5

And then "just like that" it all feels as over as it suddenly felt as though the online world were *finally* just getting going.

There's nothing worse relative to online than one's own hope.

It's like this:

--------------------

i.e. dashed.

But, of course, nothing was dashed by thoughts elevated to irrational expectation, with a whiff of commitment to feeling lousy should hope not pan out.

Silly, silly, and more silly.

2024-11-14-20:19:26-Thursday-4

The time has come to consider the inflammatory properties of food again. My upper left ass issue defies being the result of over-using it. That may have played a role in the past, but the persistence seems odd, and not connected to doing anything in particular day-to-day. Sitting does seem to be the worst thing for it. But other things I'm feeling physically have a loose sense of "inflamed" to them, so... and I've been there before, and vaguely remember some food changes making a difference.

Hopes are high, as the next week will be physically trying, and our performance schedule shows no sign of slowing.

2024-11-14-15:52:20-Thursday-3

Home again, naturally.

Just blew a bunch of time adding a doorknob and deadbolt to a storm door. Since they came separately, of *course* neither had the right set of screws to make it work, and of *course* I threw a way a bunch of knobs/deadbolts a couple months ago because I'd been carting them around for half of forever, some with missing keys, but I couldn't see ever using them again being banged up, with paint on some, etc.

But I'm certain I could have found the perfect screw needed in one of them. Ugh.

Then, of *course* the dead bolt doesn't align wells with the openings for it in the storm door frame. It's close. But the only way I can lock it is while leaning into the door from the outside while turning the key. Can't do that from inside, which is from where we'd most want to lock the deadbolt.

So... I'll have to dig around for the right saw and bit to try to remove a bit of metal from that opening. A file might work, but only if I completely removed the door to remove part of the frame, which isn't an option.

Another option might be a circular shim of sorts to offset where the deadbolt assembly rests in the door such that the bolt makes it inside the proper opening. I'm starting to think that would be easiest, assuming such a thingie either exists, or is easy to make from, say some decent thin/strong cardboard.

2024-11-14-07:59:05-Thursday-2

I'm not sure I slept more after returning to bed to attempt to wait out my wife's slumber. I vaguely remember trying, which for me as come to consist to watching patiently for varieties of hues of green and yellow supplanting each other in my eye-closed field of vision.

But I do feel a whole heck of a lot better now than earlier.

I'm starting to think my upper ass woe is mostly a matter of perpetual tension, as though bracing for/against something, which of course is almost always of the category of phantasm.

The woman of the house just coughed downstairs, and I think I heard my dad's voice as well. I hesitate to engage, as the both of them rather bore me. What's a psychopath to do with normal, regular, everyday people of creed and practices perfected?

2024-11-14-06:38:41-Thursday-1

Rough night of attempting to sleep in an uncomfortable bed in a fadingly familiar house where my dad lives with the woman who replaced my far too soon life-departed mom.

She's decent and means well, but.

Yes: but.

Anyway, my back (upper left ass cheek, really) is going through something malevolent that I'm pretty sure it has before, only it was long enough ago that I don't remember what fixed it. Probably time. But you know how we like to take credit for applying this, swallowing that, giving up varieties of whatever's for seasons - generally all rooted in rumor.

(E.g. "Psst! Didja hear that fresh dog shit rubbed in a carefully tight counter-clockwise spiral has been curing your ail for generations?")

The internet is nothing if not a murmur-powered rumor machine!

(Murmur as an energy source? Holy endless supply, Batman!)

Anyway, wife still sleeping, me torturing that upper ass area by sitting it in an ancient hard wood rocking chair. The pillow I placed between my back and that wood has shifted from comfortably useful to a position of delivering well-deserved mockery.

Once she's up, we'll tip-toe through the tulips of preparing to depart - hopefully in a way in support of enjoying the chance to say our goodbyes. We're here because my brother and I surprised dad with our presence in a restaurant last night in honor of dad's <big number>th birthday, which venue was a nearly three hour drive from where my wife and I wish we could permanently barricade ourselves.

(Well... not her, really - her home-bodying skills trembling in the presence of mine....)

>> (E.g. "Psst! Didja hear that fresh dog shit rubbed in a
>> carefully tight counter-clockwise spiral has been curing
>> your ail for generations?")
>
> The verbiage here is far too similar to this song to be
> coincidental, right?
>
> YouTube link (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZFWiJAYmADQ)

> Getting older is realizing how not-rosy everything in life
> really is.

> It sucks learning the amazing people you idolized as a
> kid were really just alright at best.