Shit. I forgot to talk about the King in Yellow stuff. I’ll get back to it by and by. I WILL BLOG EVERY DAY. I WILL BLOG EVERY DAY. I WILL BLOG EVERY DAY.I promise. Or something like that.
It’s effectively New Year’s Day. let’s just go with that polite fiction, and on to the content…
When I lived in the west ‘burbs outside Chicago, there was a service called Peapod, which would deliver groceries for a fee. The fee was reasonable, too. I remember it as 23.00/month.
In today’s money, that’d be 40 or 50. And well-worth it, I think. Especially if the picker has an eye for produce.
I hate grocery shopping, because of the herds, just wandering about grazing, with the glazed look of terminal indecision in their rheumy eyes and the big red “TILT!” signs hovering over their skulls.
When I used to have to drive the ridey-car, I was always tempted to run them over. Employees who won’t yield the right-of-way can go, too. Self-important shoegazers.
So you see my conundrum. My misanthropy and the bad behavior of people in crowds is not a good mix.
I yearn for a Peapod-like service. Or a car.
I wish I were allowed to have a car. But that would be too much of an asset, and they’d threaten to take away my medical insurance again.
But I digress. Grocery delivery service strikes me as something that would be handy to have in a community like the one I live in. I mean, seniors, and more seniors, and then a lot of sunshine nine months out of the year, and like that.
But it’s a liberal sort of fantasy, and hence not possible in the current political and financial environment. Red state, steady state, as it goes.
I try to give it as much static as I can. I vote and answer polls and such, and can and will make a couple of calls on behalf of the local party if I agree with them and it seems like they might make some headway.
But the McSally win put the kibosh on that for the near future. We were about to get purplish. We could really use a decent governor after bassetface left and instead we got Ducey. Christ in a handcart, is he bad.
So I have to get up at an early (for me) hour, strap on an oxygen tank, wear an extra pair of socks, and deal with people…more or less for a can of cat food and some dish detergent.
I know, first-world problems. But it IS a pain in my ass. I’m gonna walk to save the bus fare, because I have to cut some corners at a grand a month, and go deal with a bunch of people that more or less function as if they’re in my way on purpose, on a Saturday morning when I’d rather write something or paint something or look at the clouds, or just about anything other than sauntering around a Fry’s at ten ayem.
Pointing and clicking is better.
I welcome the goddamn singularity. Bring that fucker on. I want a real android with a positronic brain that can emit Dickian dialogue at will, play 3D chess, and walk the dog.
I’m not in the least bit concerned that I’ll stultify, or stop creating stuff, or stagnate and wither. I would have already done that, when my days of working at a job in an office were put behind me by illness.
Creating shit is what I do. I do it for free…at least for now. That won’t last — because the people that say it’s devaluing yourself are absolutely right. Even with my “more altruistic” motivation*. I’m not in this for the money. But I don’t mind if I get some. I do a bit of under-the-table work. I sell a story here and there.
Need to put the vocals on my tracks and do a “proper” cd. That’s one of my resolutions. I actually made a couple this year.
Wait, what? Gear-change.
Yeah. The guest vocalist thing isn’t going to work. Nobody seems to want to. So I’m singing, or doing what I call singing. Electronically-manipulated like everything else, I’m sure.
The music, yeah, I’ll go it alone. I can make that happen.
I’m thinking about either finding an agent or making application to a small press to publish some of my books. But that’s down the road some as I’m editing the lot and am only halfway through. The backstory and all that got my OCD and I have to make sure I don’t have to retrocon anything, because I HATE THAT.
And the Cub Tracks
gig is a blast. I’m not sure they know how to take me, but the readers/posters are nice enough and the community is a good one. I’ve been pretty consistently inspired to create articles for that series, and am taking up once again the reins of the Brown Jenkins series
. though I’m not going to fashion a weekly blues song, mainly because Nat Jenkins has left the series.
The King in Yellow stuff ties directly in to that series, and runs on a parallel track. That feat of engineering is what I’ll leave you, o reader, to ponder as I bid you adieu.
*my excuse is that I have a 2000$ “ceiling” on my assets. The State has a watchdog over my bank accounts. If the daily balance gets over 2K, I get a phone call asking me to justify it. Within the hour.