Well, dear readers, I have about had it with peaches. I ask you, where else on all the Internet can you read such a sentence? Nowhere, that’s where. Yes, Virginia, my love affair with peaches is over. I never want to see another peach, frankly. I have overdosed on peaches. In fact, I’m just about done with fruit, period. Done With Fruit – that’s the title of my next novel. I hadn’t eaten fruit for years until this diet, but I have eaten too damn much of it in the last two months and it is now making me want to vomit on the ground, none more so than peaches. The only fruit I shall eat from this day forward is melon balls, and I won’t eat those unless they are accompanied by prosciutto. Yes, fruit and I are quits, at least for the foreseeable future. I’m also rather sick of water, but I shall keep drinking my two bottles a day because of all the things I’ve done since beginning my diet, the water has made me feel better, in that I attribute my complete lack of heartburn or acid reflux to drinking the water. You’ll remember that prior to the diet I was having heartburn and acid reflux every single night. Since the day I started this diet I have not had one single incident of heartburn or acid reflux or any other stomach or upper chest problem. But enough about fruit because fruit and I are quits. Speaking of quits, yesterday was a strange day. I can’t quite put my finger on it. It won’t allow me to put my finger on it, because it is a contrary cuss. In any case, it was a strange day for reasons that are eluding me at the moment. For example, I got up. That was strange. I answered some e-mails, and then did the long jog. Whilst jogging, I wrote another verse to the song I’m working on for Nudie Musical. I had to remember it for three-quarters of the jog. I must have been a sight repeating the same verse over and over and over so I wouldn’t forget it. I got it written down as soon as I got back home, and for good measure I wrote another verse. I’m having fun with this new number. I often have fun with new numbers. Yesterday, I had fun with eight. Today I may have some real fun with twenty-six. What the HELL am I talking about? I worked on the lyric for a couple of hours, then did some errands and decided on tuna sandwiches for lunch. I got several packages today, including a whole box o’ books from dear reader Kerry, which was very nice of him – I didn’t have this particular set of books about movies made for TV, so I’m happy to have them in my reference section. I also got the CD master for the new Kritzerland release, as well as a Dave Brubeck songbook, which has the entire score for his brilliant ballet, Points on Jazz, albeit transcribed for one piano instead of the two that it’s scored for. I did some more work on the booklet for our new release, and I’ll be wrapping up the rest of that this morning. I had a couple of long telephonic conversations and a few e-mail volleys, and then I finally sat on my couch like so much fish.
Last night, I watched a motion picture that I’d TIVOd entitled A Life In The Balance, a super low-budget film shot in Mexico, and released here by Twentieth Century Fox. It’s quite a horrid little film, adapted from a story by Georges Simenon. The screenwriters both have Fox credits plus a lot of TV, but this script is hopelessly awful. The story itself probably is good, but the writing here is so inept that the actors, try as they may, end up looking like idiots. The director is Harry Horner – a bad director who formerly was an excellent art director. It’s not that his direction (visually) is terrible – it’s not, it’s competent, but his direction of the actors or non-direction of the actors is ludicrous, especially his direction of the little boy who stars. The cast is comprised of Ricardo Montalban as a widowed father, Lee Marvin as a sick killer of sinners, and Anne Bancroft as someone Montalban picks up in a pawnshop. The rest of the cast are all Mexicans of varying talent. As a curio it was interesting, but it’s the kind of film where the characters act so inanely that you want to just throttle the writers and the director.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I am quite tired and I must get my beauty sleep and I must stick to my guns that fruit and I are quits.
Today, Tuesday, I shall be doing a lot of writing. I must finish the booklet notes, and then I’ll be writing a personal appreciation of the composer, and then I’ve got to e-mail all of it to my designer so we can wrap this up and get it officially announced. Of course, I’ll be doing the long jog and I’ll be eating something fun but diet-friendly, and I’m going to try and finish this song so that I can start working it into the sequence into which it’s going. I’m quite certain I’ll watch a motion picture on DVD in the evening.
Tomorrow I have no idea what’s happening, but Thursday I have a work session, and Friday I’m hoping to go to Mr. Grant Geissman’s to record a new demo of the Nudie Musical songs. I did a demo way back in 2002, but so much has changed, including new lyrics, new music, and completely new songs to replace what I didn’t like, that the 2002 demo is completely useless.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, do the long jog, finish the booklet notes and the personal appreciation, try to finish the new song and work it into the script, and try to find something fun to eat. Today’s topic of discussion: I think we’ll have a sandwich day – what are your all-time favorite sandwiches in these categories – ones you make at home, ones you get at local jernts, and the most gloriously glorious sandwiches you’ve had over the years that you haven’t had in years. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, and do remember – fruit and I are quits.