WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS CRUDE LANGUAGE AND RACIST SLURS TO MAKE A POINT.
Finally sick with that cold everyone was trying to give me. Thanks for passing it on, people. Really. Thanks for sneezing on me, pushing your dirty tissues my way, coughing in my direction, passing me things after you’ve sneezed into your hand – oh, you’ve done a thorough job. Well done.
Can’t seem to say much these days. My brother keeps watching the fucking news, and I keep getting angry, then he gets angry at me for being angry at the fucking news. Oh, gee, sorry. Didn’t know I was supposed to sit by and let Hitler point two take control without a word passing my lips. I mean…history has pretty much condemned the average German citizen during Hitler’s reign. They sat by and did nothing while this happened. Deja vu, anyone? How can something like that be uttered, yet right now the people protesting 45 are being called losers, babies, and told to shut up, get with the system, stop griping. They’re protesting, maybe like the Germans should have done when Hitler rose to power. Oh, but you’ll stop them, won’t you. You’ll make it illegal to say anything against the system. You’ll lock people up for stating the facts, while you spread your “alternate facts”. You’ll squeeze out the free press, make taking to the streets unlawful. It’s happening right now, as I write.
This blog will become illegal soon.
Christ, and last night I just HAD to see a goddamn news bit from good old Wisconsin. The sleepiest state full of bigots you never remember. Oh, they’re all for 45 over there. Good old man. Even people with wombs think he’s wonderful. But that’s people from Wisconsin for you. If you didn’t know, Wisconsin is the SERIAL KILLER CAPITAL OF THE WORLD. That’s where you get the weirdos who eat their victims, or make furniture out of them, or shit like that. And they voted for 45. They support 45. Get the wops and the chinks and the niggers out, that’s what they say. Women should be barefoot, pregnant, and chained to the stove. I should know; I ran from that state as fast as I fucking could.
No wonder I don’t like to admit where I’m from. Usually I just say ‘earth’.
Had to try to explain to a bunch of people yesterday – in Dutch – how American doctors will let you die right outside a hospital if you don’t have insurance. It was so far from what they consider to be sane that they didn’t quite believe me. And I’m pretty sure they thought I was exaggerating the costs, too. I wasn’t. In fact, I was quoting them the costs from thirty years ago. At the time, a visit to a regular old doctor cost me 80 bucks. Even if I didn’t have insurance here, that’s 2.5 times higher – 250% if you want it to look real big – over what I’d have to fork out right now to see a doctor.
And the health care here is so much better.
…Onto things other than what the news stirs up in me.
Went shopping yesterday. I know, I know! Me, shopping. Mark it down; it’s rarer than a Blue Moon. My bro found a small strip mall nearby, so we metro’d over. Sales, sales, sales – which was great, because my winter coat has died. One of the snaps broke, and it’s the kind that’s sewn into the lining, so now I’ve a big hole in my coat as I walk around. Or I did have; I’m now the owner of two new smart jackets, one for cold weather and one for spring weather. Hit a mega-mega sale at one of the stores; retail would have been €160, I spent €75. Yippee! Looking forward to being able to wear them out, show them off. It feels like a long time since I bought something new for myself.
My dizziness is better. Long story short: I’m getting old. There are small bits in your inner ear that can become dislodged, float around, and make you feel dizzy when you get older. That’s the entire reason for it: you’re old. Gods. Like I needed to fucking hear that. Anyway, the remedy is pretty simple; you’ve got to tilt your body back and forth a few times to get those bits to re-set into their spots. Kind of like bumping an old pinball machine (there’s a reference that proves why those little bits are moving around: old, old, old).
I’ll need to prep up the script again, find another theater. This is week two. Haven’t heard back from the other theater yet, tho that’s not surprising. I find it cute that non-writers always seem to think people get back to you within a few weeks of sending them your material. HA! A few months would be more like it, and that’s only if they’re on top of things. Keep telling myself it’s just an exercise in positivity. I don’t really expect anything to come of it, but sending it out is an affirmation to me that I believe in myself. Plus, it gives me something else to look for in my inbox besides the long awaited email from the director who promised me last year to read it. That whole scenario has me all over the place. I’m worried I won’t hear from the theater group at all, that they’ve decided they don’t like me, so they’ll just conveniently lose my email and not notify me of their meetings, auditions, or whatever. Do I send out a message, asking? Most people would, I suppose. Most people would ask ‘hey, you said you were gonna read that thing months ago, did you ever get around to it?’ but I’m too afraid. Too afraid of that cold brush off that I’ve been getting.
But there’s only so much I can take before I say something.