the patron saint of schmucks

so I realize some of this may seem familiar...like thoughts from a previous blog post for those who've followed for a while...but since most of us are around that half century mark...or in the neighborhood...we won't remember...which is a blessing for this writer...anyway...i'm feeling cranky...sleeping like shit thanks to donut...(yeah, you've all read about that one)...and shoulder pain...which now after last week's mri seems less of an age-complaint and an actual tear...and so to pull a "scarlett"...as in "o'hara"..."gone with the wind" for the rest of you...i decided to think about all that another day and went to the movies with mike last night..."st. vincent"...which i enjoyed...despite some cloying plot devices and too-tidy for me scripting...but the title of this blog belongs to the woman who sat down next to mike at the multiplex...you all know her...she plopped in with her significant other, toting a coat, a vat of popcorn and a water bottle...in the middle of previews...her mouth didn't shut for the remainder of her stay...the two of them talking...loudly...mike bore the brunt of it...i opened my mouth many times to say..."shut  the fuck up"...but i remembered the multiplex shooting in florida and closed my mouth...sadly it's all over the place...no one shuts up at the movies...or at broadway performances...or on the lirr...or on a plane...the disconnect created by modern technology has rendered us all starving for the sound of our own voice...blah...blah...blah...and as i ponder this and dream wistfully of days gone by...dressing up to go to the theater...the sweet silence with an overture...no crinkling of twizzlers during the show stopping number...soft sobbing...the only sound in a movie theater during closing credits...i realize that shit...i am a cranky-pants...and i think of all the oscar-bait movies opening this fall...plotting when to see which one...how to cram it all in...and then about that patron saint...and wonder when all those movies will be available on netflix!

house of litter and fog

i am sleepwalking through fall...blame it on the meow..in july, donut, our cat, came out of his "diabetic remission"...and any shot at normal sleep, or a "good housekeeping" clean home went out the proverbial window...he sleeps all day...wakes to drain the water bowl...runs in and out of his pan...a lot....trailing litter that escapes mats, sweeps, vacuums, etc...a lot...and bellows at 230AM...a lot...i am the only one who notices...or hears...in theory...and so after weeks of this i find myself finding it difficult to distinguish the line between daily life...and r.e.m...and so I am sleepwalking...which in a warped alternative universe should be a goldmine for creative juices and writing and such...but instead of poems of epic proportion i concoct shopping lists...and spend free time watching the guity pleasures on the dvr...the sunday jackpot...and so as i picture myself a somewhat older alicia florrick...lustrous chestnut julianna margulies-maned...killer career...enviable wardrobe...i fear that i am more bug-eyed carrie mathison...running on fumes...and a good chardonnay...and the good stuff nucky thompson bootlegs...as i wait for that insulin to work...and to sleep...again...