MadameBastet-Firing-Neurons

It Ain't a Party Until Somebody Cries

Well yesterday was OK
not too bad actually;
the pool was heavenly - deliciously
cool water on a sunny, hot, perfect
Southern California Fourth of July.

I played with my cousin's little kids
in the pool and didn't eat too much;
the day flew by so quickly. It was strange.
At the end , I thought, "That went so
fast. It's over already?" And I thought
I could live to be 100 and that will be
what life is like. It was over before it
began.

The kids are all adorable, especially
Carson, who wanted to be thrown up
in the air and into the water repeatedly.
He is 2 1/2 and just said, "Again" so many
times. Then Kevin, who is 4, started crying,
and hey, that's when things really began swinging.

My grandma and grandpa, those people
who I call The Immortals, are still going
strong physically. What I find really ironic
is that I watched one Twilight Zone episode
at their house yesterday and it was about
a man who'd found the secret to immortality
and was over 2,000 years old. He was truly
immortal. But he didn't enjoy it like he thought
he would. He was tired. He'd watched everyone
around him die, and die, and die again and again.
In the end, he was killed, and it seemed a relief
to him. He said, although he feared death, he realized
that death is what gives life its true meaning.
My grandparents do not have the ability for such
introspection and clarity of thought. I love them, but
they are the simplest of people. I do not think my
grandmother has ever questioned anything in her life,
especially death.
I know she is afraid though.

My grandma's
mental state is not good. She called me about
four names before she remembered mine.
She knows who you are; she just has to go
through the entire family tree before she
gets to you. She's getting bad with her sense
of time and numbers. I wondered if a
certain part of her brain was deteriorating on
its own. She told me, "Next month I'm going to
be 23."

It was hard not to laugh. I said, "No, you're
going to be 93." I think she had herself at
64, and a few other ages too. She talks about
her work at the hospital as if the people she
worked with were all still alive. Will I be this
way? What is going to happen to me? I have
no children; I doubt I will. Where will I end up?
Or will I, with the way the world is going.
No use worrying about it. My father always told
me the things you worried about never seemed
to materialize and the things you never worried about
often happened. It's true for me. For him. Perhaps
a shark will eat me. Or I will be run down by a bull
in Pamplona. Because you see, I never worry about
those things. I am deathly afraid of sharks, and rarely
go into the ocean (thank you Steven Spielberg). And
I think running with the bulls is one of the stupidest
events on earth. I think anyone who does that deserves
to get gored in the ass. Poor bulls.
So yes, expect the unexpected. More cliches to come.
A dollar a cliche. They'll be on sale til midnight.

My grandfather is more amazing. Too bad I'm
not related to him; technically he's my step-
grandfather, but the only grandfather I've ever
really had. He is almost 93 as well - he's got
genes that are even more stunning than my
grandma's. A few years ago he fell and broke a
hip. At his age, that usually would've been it for
someone. Not him. He recovered; he's even got
disintegrating vertabrae and just keeps plugging
along. He does have a cane now, and he hasn't
driven in years so he has a scooter - actually two.
I said, "Oh a two-scooter garage!" He shops
and scoots around, deaf as a post. It's a miracle
he isn't killed in traffic.

But what's truly amazing, and I wish you could
all see this - is that the man doesn't eat anymore.
I mean, his caloric intake daily must be under 500
calories. He is literally, literally a skeleton. And yet
he drags this skeleton around - how? HOW? My mom
and I think they are both alive on sheer will.
I don't know why he doesn't eat. I guess he's not hungry
for some reason.

He bar-b-qued the steaks yesterday. I felt sorry for
the cows. Not only were they slaughtered for their meat,
but he burned those steaks so that they were like pieces
of charcoal. Needless to say, I didn't have any steak. I'm
not much of a beef eater anyway.

My grandma did get me laughing when she
started talking about the neighbour down the street.
Some woman who's 102 years old. My grandma was
saying, "I wouldn't mind getting really old, as long as
I have my mind." It was so strange; first, she said it like
she wasn't old yet. I'm thinking, lady, you're old. Perhaps
we never think of ourselves as old. I mentall still feel
about 25, but thanks to fibro, the gift that just keeps
on giving, I physically often feel like I'm 105. Anyway, I
inadvertantly burst out laughing and had to stop myself
because she pretty much HAS lost her mind. She doesn't
have Alzheimer's so much as your garden-variety senile
dementia. Her caretaker, Delia, just looked at me and smiled.
Delia is a saint. I mean really, forget beatifying the late Pope.
Delia needs to get in line ahead of him.

I told my mom, "She thinks she has her mind, but
she doesn't." Maybe that's like me. "She thinks she has a soul
but she doesn't." We're just a mass of chemicals and neurons
and dendrites and fibers and one hard blow will make
us disappear....where?

It's all absurd lately.
North Korea is launching missiles into
the Sea of Japan. It appears they may not
have the technology yet to hit us, but they
will get it. I hate that fat little North Korean
communist dictator. Kim Il Whatever. Normally
I do not call anyone fat. But I will call him fat and ugly
and worrisome, because we have our own maniacs
in our own government to worry about. We don't need
anymore maniacs interacting with maniacs.
And to think, as a child, all they
pounded into us, at school, was fear of the big, bad
USSR. Get under your desks! Drop and cover!
As the brilliant comedian Lewis Black says, these
are the adults. ADULTS. In charge of children. And
they are telling us to essentially get under a pile of
wood, of kindling, while an atomic bomb goes off.
And if we survive the blast, it's a sure bet, as he says,
we'll walk outside and our nose will be melting onto
our shoe.

I believe there will be a nuclear
'incident' of some kind in my lifetime...
if I have a lifetime akin to a normal lifespan.
It is frightening. Am I a pessimist for saying this?
I don't know. Everyone started talking about it in
the pool yesterday. My cousin said she would rather
just be hit directly rather than suffer the effects of the
aftermath. I started yelling "Nice holiday conversation!"
I just wanted a few minutes in the pool, in the sun,
without thinking about these things.

Ken Lay, of the Enron disaster, died from
an apparent heart attack. His 'pastor' said,
"His heart just gave out."
I said, "What fucking heart?"
In a way, I am angry. The bastard won't see
the inside of a prison; he escaped his earthly
punishment. How convenient. I can only imagine how
those directly affected by his massive arrogance
and greed feel. I can also only hope there is
some kind of judgment after this life, although
I suppose it isn't mine to dole out, or even wish
on a person.

I'll never forget seeing his wife crying on TV,
crying because they were going to have to sell off
some of their 5 or 6 homes. I have no words. Well,
I do, but they're really pretty bad, so I'll refrain.
I'll pretend that my mom Carole, and Steven's mom
Joycie, are reading my blog. Apparently they both
freak out at the mere mention of the mention of
swearing.

My sleep schedule has been screwed up and I need
to get on a correct one soon. The last two and half
weeks of studying are before me...as are a few Church
concerts. I need energy to get through it all and energy
does not come to me so easily anymore.

My dreams are getting more and more surreal. And I
mean surreal. Salvador Dali would be proud. Even I'm
getting scared of my own dreams.

No photo. Too tired to even find one.