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November 10, 2009
NOTICE:
No one uses them, so unless I hear back from anyone out there, I will be doing away with the comments in mid-November. If no one responds, I may also assume I have no readers and take the diary private.
More on the weird attacks front�last night�s round didn�t include fainting, but this night after night of disturbed sleep isn�t doing me any good. And this time, the problems ran right through my morning routine. Not easy to get ready for work. Or to contemplate a 45-minute drive on the toll-way, either. But my boss is a stickler for not exceeding your sick days, and I�m at the limit for the year�so I struggled into work. (SO. freaking. TIRED.)
Spouse has been busy today�meeting with a school counselor, and scheduling assessment tests, and all that happy crappy. He has a low tolerance for bureaucracy, so it�s a trying time. But he's pretty excited.
We checked out the �flame� feature on our new fake Franklin stove last night. It�s better than I�d figured�quite pretty, and semi-convincing if the lights are off.
Still haven�t gotten around to the season finale of Mad Men. Wasn�t feeling up to it last night�I think the sick was already starting a little bit.
I love my old mysteries novels, and usually have no trouble taking the period into account when I read them. But I actually had to put aside the 1963 Dell Shannon (Death of a Busybody) I was reading because it made me sick. The homophobia and gay-bashing of that novel transcended the period setting and made my stomach do flip-flops. On one level, yes�I�m fully aware that it was a different time, and different theories and attitudes prevailed. But.
When just being a bartender in a gay bar rates getting smacked in the face repeatedly by a cop, along with accusations of being a heroin dealer?
Or the mere fact that a character is gay makes him a prime murder suspect, and the main character deliberately sets out to hound and persecute the guy because he�s gay? Then the poor guy snaps from the constant pressure and starts shooting, then tries to kill himself, and Mendoza is all�oh, those crazy, unstable queers! Worthless, neurotic bastard!
Oh, and two pages later is telling a �regular, upstanding� citizen what a fine, upright, department they have, and that they �don�t persecute innocent people� (just because he�s cheating on his wife, that is�guess the guy was lucky his bit on the side wasn�t a man).
Honestly. It was more than my 21st-century sensibilities could take.
Reading:"The Sterile Cuckoo", by John Nichols and �The Girls of Central High in Camp, or The Old Professor�s Secret� by Gertrude W. Morrison (Copyright 1915�another one of my vintage YA books)
Surfing: Doing a little genealogy work to figure out the relationship with someone who wants to �friend� me on FB. Most everybody with my (very uncommon) maiden name is related to me, somehow.
Listening: ELP, Peter Gabriel, Jack Johnson, Phoenix
At Random: click here
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