Well, dear readers, I am sitting here like so much fish, listening to Dimitri Tiomkin’s score for Dail ‘M’ for Murder, the recent Intrada re-recording. It’s very well done and I’ve always enjoyed the score. It’s the first music I’ve listened to in a couple of weeks. As has been the case for the past few days, I watched no motion picture last night and not even very many Tube of You videos. I did just mash up an avocado and made guacamole, although it doesn’t have anything but avocado and salt – I think that’s the way mummy used to make it, with a few onions tossed in. I’ll try it once I’m through typing these here notes. I did get nine and a half hours of sleep so that was excellent – and good sleep it was, too. Can’t remember what the dreams were. I got to sleep very late and therefore didn’t arise until one-thirty in the afternoon. I answered e-mails, and then got dressed, brushed each and every tooth, and then I moseyed on over to the mail place and picked up a residual check – I didn’t even look to see what it was for. It was decent and will pay for three nice meals out. Then I went to CVS and bought some new multi-focus readers – that was the only kind they had that I liked but given my eye issues, the multi focus is weird. But for certain things the stronger strength works better, which my other ones work better for other things. I also got some Mucinex-D. In two weeks, I’ll need some Claritin-D, too. Then I came home, ordered some orange chicken and white rice from a local jernt that I’d ordered soup from during the pandemic. The soup was excellent back then, so I took a chance. I’m more convinced than ever that Genghis Cohen was the ONLY restaurant that knew how to do proper orange chicken. I guess it’s an art. This jernt did it as I asked – extra crispy – but the taste was not orange-like at all. It was just weird. I got used to it and so had about half of what was there and threw the rest away. The rice was fine. At least the Panda Express orange chicken, while not really orange chicken, is tasty. I don’t know why it’s so damn hard to get right and I’m not going to chance it any more until Genghis Cohen relocates. Anyway, I futzed and finessed the large number of pages I’d done, and then I began writing new pages. I did eight in the next few hours, then had to take a back break because my back was killing me. My back should be tossed in the hoosegow for perpetrating a felony on me. I need a damn massage. Dial ‘M’ for Massage, baby. Forget Michael, send a message to massage, baby. If I’m not being clear – I need a massage and I need it now.
I had a few peanuts and almonds and then mashed the HELL out of the avocado, which is in the refrigerator at the moment, refrigerating. Have I mentioned that I need a massage?
Today, I’ll try to be up by eleven, I’ll futz and finesse, and then I’ll try and write at least seven or eight pages. Then I’ll shave and shower and then see some one-act plays that I’d rather not see, but I know people in them and feel I must be loyal. That starts at four and will come down before six. Then I’m sure a couple of us will go have a meal nearby. Then I’ll come right home and write three or four more pages and then I am damn well watching a motion picture and that’s all there is to it. After that, I’ll listen and relax.
Tomorrow will be an all-writing day, and my goal is at least fifteen pages, maybe more if I’m on a roll. I’d like to finish the sequence I’m on and then there’ll be a couple more longish sequences and then we’ll be in the home stretch. Then next week is hugely busy with all manner of things.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, try to be up by eleven, futz and finesse, write new pages, shave and shower, see some one-acts, eat, write more pages, and then watch, listen, and relax. Today’s topic of discussion: If you use readers, what kind do you have, what strength are they, do they work well? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, wondering just what IS the trouble with orange chicken.