Day 276 of my incarceration . . . .oh wait, it’s really only day 3 . . . I think. Must check the scratching on the wall . . . .
Time has started to streeeetch and compress in very odd ways while I’m under a self imposed quarantine (read “house arrest”) with a particularly nasty flu bug. Self imposed isn’t the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Work has told me not to show my face until I am certified germ free – we are working on challenging deadlines on a big project and if half the project team came down with the flu . . .it’s not worth thinking about. They did kindly, however, send my laptop and files home so I don’t feel left out . . . oh well it gives me something to do. Mi amour has also said he won’t grace my doorstep (or any other part of my charming abode) until such time as he won’t be contaminated with whatever virus has taken up residence in my respiratory tract . . . tres lonely solitary confinement for me.
Day 1 was just fine – was sick enough that daytime TV was about my intellectual match. Yes, it was that bad. But as the days and hours crawl by, how to entertain myself? Jesus be praised, someone invented NETFLIX!! Have been indulging in marathon sessions of Breaking Bad, Walking Dead and other equally uplifting programming. I know more ways to “double tap” a zombie than you can possibly imagine and I’m pretty sure the personal relationship I’ve developed with Darryl is a bit, ummmm, well inappropriate.
But it’s not all zombies and methamphetamine – really. I’m such a geek I’m working my way through all the documentaries on Netflix. Disasters climbing K2 – bring it on; dolphin tragedy – I’m in. But my fav so far has been “Searching for Sugarman“, the film about a never-was Detroit R&B singer from the 60’s who, unbeknownst to him and the rest of the world, was bigger than either Elvis or the Beatles in apartheid South Africa. It’s a fascinating story of what can happen in a completely closed society. And about the ethics of the music industry. And about a man, Sixto Rodriguez, who is a modern day poet, saint, inspiration. As A said, he writes like Dylan but has a better voice and plays guitar like James Taylor. We enjoyed both the story and the music so much I downloaded both albums, “Cold Facts” and “Coming from Reality” and we are all set for the next road trip!
Have also been seriously abusing my iTunes account, catching up on all the music I’ve been too busy to check out. Had a bunch of “must listens” saved for just such an eventuality. The standouts that are now in heavy rotation are Bahamas and Hooray for the Riff Raff. Bahamas is a project of Toronto musician Alfie Jurvanen. Love that vintage R&B sensibility.
Hooray for the Riff Raff play pure Americana with a touch of their hometown New Orleans blues. St Roch Blues is shot in NOLA – it’s a visual as well as musical homage to that amazing city. When I’m really homesick for my second home I watch this.
Other interweb flotsam and jetsam that has kept me riveted – Kim Kardashian’s severely photo shopped and surgically altered ass is apparently news again. Ho hum . . . . really is this all we have to talk about? Calvin Klein’s latest ad campaign features a “plus size” model – she wears, get this Size 10. In whose demented world is this plus size??? And btw, if only I could have a body like Mila Dalbesio. Thanks to B’more gal, JL, for the online updates today, your crew always has the wittiest comebacks.
I would take that any day over Kate Moss’ anorexic heroin chic. The fashion world must be dominated by a pathetic and bitter bunch of misogynists if this as the ideal of female beauty they want us to accept. Like old Ronnie Reagan said, Just Say No!
So kids, what can you take away from this? Get your flu shots – be safe out there!! It’s a nasty bug circulating and you could end up like me, losing track of time reality and days you will never get back. Can’t wait to get back out into the real world!