Thursday, November 2, 2017

Futility


To the best of my recollection, I began blogging along about 2007 in a manner along the lines of a man about town. Notes on places frequented, music heard, oddities seen - that sort of thing. Within the bounds of what a log is, recording events matter of factly. I can't confirm the date because Google changed the Blogger format and I was posting on another account with a different e-mail address. Consequently, after some time not using that particular blog on account of commencing this one, which I wanted to use for more expository purposes, it up and disappeared! 

Contacted Google many months ago and got instructions on how to pull it back up but it didn't do so. Forgetting the passwords for the former blog and e-mail account didn't help. I got as far as I could upon setting up new passwords and hit the wall. I'm sure it's somehow accessible. I simply don't have a casual acquaintance to assist. Which is the object of this post... no one to help. No one to talk to.

I went for coffee at the local pub this morning. My mind reeling after reading that the Halloween parade in NYC just had to go on after the atrocity downtown. I was somewhat put out. I tried to have a conversation. "I wonder how many people know where Uzbekistan is?" I mentioned the absurdity noted and, no, the person did not know where Uzbekistan was. A few assertions were made on my part about rounding up all these aliens on the sort of visa the assassin had tempered by the question as to whether habeas corpus and the 4th and 5th Amendments applied. Well, the conversation went south and, yes, I was venting. Not exactly the right person to engage with in this regard.

The thing of it is I do know where Uzbekistan is. Over the years I've read several books (recall this one in particular) about the area pertaining to it's history from Alexander to the Silk Road to the interminable 'problem' of Afghanistan - "Isn't that the case, Dr. Watson?" Ah, yes, fabled Samarkand. Tamerlane. The Khans! Indeed; adjunct to the Raj and the Great Game. Get the picture? All this going on in my mind and no one to talk to.

So I halted my chat with the fellow and knew I had to go to the blog. Blimey if I don't feel better; less pent up. Still, I'd rather be with a real person. I don't need the couch but a talking cure with a human being would be splendid. Alas, there is no other recourse at the moment. I choose not to feel it is not a futile situation.

I made the last link because that's what was playing as I was writing. Went to coffee place after above encounter to sit down, get online and, er, relate. Same instance as mentioned the other day: usual people here, no one acknowledges your existence. Way it is. So the tune is playing and I ask the 'neighboring' individuals, "Is this Nina Simone?" No one heard me as they had their buds on in their personal universe but I couldn't see that because my glasses were off. But they could see me addressing them - they didn't bother to take the earphones off! Went to the nearest barista and asked him to look it up (I know they can.) and he sullenly did. Confirmed. Then the twenty-something persisted looking down his nose as if I'm incapable of doing the same operation but I don't wish to sign up for the come ons. Cup of coffee... big fucking deal. Sorry, but this is all very exasperating, the attitudes! The indifference. Halloween parades, though, because of the commercial aspect, now that's important.

That was another thing I saw. (Impossible to read the news without being whipsawed.) The Trump kid used his kids to make a political statement, dressing them in military and police garb. (I abhor Halloween.) Had them salute for a Tweet, la-de-da. Abhorrent. He should not have done that but farbeit for me to say what people should or should not do as that's nothing but TROUBLE as is often the case when dealing with CREEPS. Well, one of the late night TV creeps then skewers the Trump creep after he further Tweeted that he gave half of the kid's candy away to "Teach them about socialism."!!! The retort was vulgar. This stuff drives me nuts. Fortunately, this is playing presently. And this popped up while I secured the previous link. I refuse to feel the futility of living in a ridiculous day and age.

How are we to proceed? The picture is from another coffee place I used to visit. Not often, but the proprietor was friendly. She died. Leukemia. I will proceed with a sense of mortality and in the best humor I possible can. You can see, if you are one of the people who seem to be reading this, why I do it. It's not venting, per se, but moreso this.

Cute, huh? I'd rather be corporeally engaged. Believe me. This has to do.
I do not feel the futility of the circumstance at all. So help me God, I don't.
Now, I do feel good enough to go out and take some pictures. Of what?
Need to find some flowers STAT. Have got to keep myself occupied. Peacefully.


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