For those of you who are keeping score, my thyroid seems to have won another round. Despite valiant efforts to vaporize it using radioactive iodine, the little bugger has once again asserted its right to exist and cause me no end of problems, most notably my arrhythmic heart and, more recently, my up and down metabolism…
Apparently, a maximum of about ten percent of radioactove iodine recipients have to deal with a thyroid which comes back to life. I’ve shown an uncanny ability to be withing “that” ten percent all the way thorugh this process. With my luck, I’ll also probably end up with Marty Feldman eyes…
This is really getting old…
On the up side, we saw Siouxsie this weekend at the Warfield. I’m in the midst of acquiring every episode of Night Gallery from a marathon on the Mystery Channel. And a cute shaggy-headed boy with drumsticks was either flirting with me — or maybe he was just making fun of me — on the bus this afternoon…
I’ll be coming up on a year of being smoke-free in just a few weeks now. I keep thinking that once I’ve hit that one-year milestone, I’ll be home free and that it will all be over for me. And I guess it will, mostly. I won’t lie and say there aren’t times when I want a cigarette, even after eleven months. Heck, I can think of several times just in the past couple of days, although the cravings are usually less noticeable than they’ve been this week…
All in all, I still think I’m past it. Once I give something up, I don’t usually come back to it. I’ve never understood how people could “quit” smoking eight or ten times a year, as some of my friends and co-workers do. It’s no wonder they generally never succeed; the stress of “quitting” over and over again must be terrible. Of course, they really never quit; they just stop carrying their own cigarettes and constantly beg them from other people, assuming that “just one” will get them through the crisis…
I probably shouldn’t get all self-righteous. Stress might overtake me and I might find myself running up to the corner store for a fix tonight. But I’m going to be optimistic and start planning my little celebration soon…
But you know what? I still think banning smoking in bars was a stupid idea…
Unrelated: Oh goody. It’s Fleet Week. Nothing facilitates a a relaxing weekend like ear-splitting, earth-shaking noise overhead all weekend…
Never having been a fan of the whole “bear” thing. It always seemed a little ridiculous to me, that suggestion that a fetish could make for a “community”. But now that I have a bear of my own, I’m re-thinking it. Really…
Meet Edgar. He keeps Irma company while I’m at work all day…
Fresno. Halloween. David and Mark’s Anniversary Weekend (observed)…
We did the spooky Halloween thing at Hobbs Grove, had dinner at the “anniversary Denny’s” where we ate on our first date, attended a bitchin’ Halloween party (again, just like pn our first date), and then saw Sippy and Old Guzzler at Starline…
Alive and well, having returned from nights of fright and days of too much carnitas in Fresno this weekend. More soon, but now I’m going to bed…
Suicide may be painless, but I’m still glad I’m not doing it anymore…
At the risk of tooting my own horn, congratulations to me for making it through one entire year without a cigarette…
You never much hear “real” Muzak anymore. I mean the genuine article, the whiny instrumental versions of currently and formerly popular songs which used to be everywhere from elevators to malls to supermarkets. Like “The Sounds of 1000 Strings Play the Rolling Stones” or whatever. They wouldn’t even play the original version of a song if it were a Lawrence Welk polka; it would be re-recorded to eliminate anything which even resembled an edge or an actual emotion…
It used to be lots of fun — a bit of a game even — to see just which songs you might hear in a surreal instrumental version while walking down the produce aisle at Kroger or ducking into Belk’s for some underwear. Some of the more bizarre ones I personally remember include “Funkytown”, “Stairway to Heaven”, and that Robin Gibb classic “Boys Do Fall in Love”, which wasn’t really a very big hit even in its original version and probably didn’t really merit the Muzak treatment…
Muzak is all about different formats now, generally presenting the blandest elements of any genre from adult contmporary to alternative rock to hip hop. But once in a great while, you can still find “Muzak classic”. I found it today at the Burger King on Bayshore Boulevard, and of all things, what should I hear but a cheesy instrumental arrangement of an Elvis Costello song. And it wasn’t some latter-day ballad like “Every Day I Write the Book”. It was “(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes”…
Very strange…
You never much hear “real” Muzak anymore. I mean the genuine article, the whiny instrumental versions of currently and formerly popular songs which used to be everywhere from elevators to malls to supermarkets. Like “The Sounds of 1000 Strings Play the Rolling Stones” or whatever. They wouldn’t even play the original version of a song if it were a Lawrence Welk polka; it would be re-recorded to eliminate anything which even resembled an edge or an actual emotion…
It used to be lots of fun — a bit of a game even — to see just which songs you might hear in a surreal instrumental version while walking down the produce aisle at Kroger or ducking into Belk’s for some underwear. Some of the more bizarre ones I personally remember include “Funkytown”, “Stairway to Heaven”, and that Robin Gibb classic “Boys Do Fall in Love”, which wasn’t really a very big hit even in its original version and probably didn’t really merit the Muzak treatment…
Muzak is all about different formats now, generally presenting the blandest elements of any genre from adult contemporary to alternative rock to hip hop. But once in a great while, you can still find “Muzak classic”. I found it today at the Burger King on Bayshore Boulevard, and of all things, what should I hear but a cheesy instrumental arrangement of an Elvis Costello song. And it wasn’t some latter-day ballad like “Every Day I Write the Book”. It was “(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes”…
Very strange…
If you’re thinking “about damned time”, you’re probably right. After many months, I’ve finally posted a new set of pictures over at Planet SOMA. Enjoy…
A new section on the site: Photography. The idea is that I tend to take pictures of some of the same sorts of stuff over and over again, so this is a place where I can post some of my favorites and not have to do a bunch of commentary if I don’t feel like it…
The three themes to start are LA, Fresno, and Mid-century in the Bay Area. More to come. Planet SOMA will continue to be reserved for themes and photo essays centering on the underside of San Francisco…
The rules are that I’m starting fresh with only photos and digital photos. There will be none of the video captures which were mainstays of this site for years, and which will probably continue to pop up from time to time…
You never know what themes might be added after the upcoming East Coast Road Trip whose itinerary the hubby has so conveniently freed me from having to detail, even though I wasn’t really planning to anyway…