I have a bottle of Bourbon and something nice to smoke. So I invite my two jazz loving friends, Tengrain and Susan, to spend a late Halloween evening with me listening to a great jazz vocalist play one of my favorite songs in Paris. What could be nicer. The embed has been disabled on this one some you will just have to click this link.
There's a storm blowing in. All the leaves are finally off the big green ash tree. Melea has raked and bagged most of them. We worked together on my little third of the property together. She seems to see me as elderly now, and is a bit overly solicitous. And I'm a bit overly motherly. So in the end she does most of the work, and I sit in a chair, smoke and sip my latte, and warn her to be careful. If she stays, the property will be hers. If not, she'll get a goodly chunk of change. As it is, the big house and grounds are her responsibility. If something goes seriously wrong, she tells me, I arrange for someone to fix it, and I pay for it. But the tasks of upkeep and cleaning are hers. And she does a lovely job. We look quite respectable.
But today, with rain coming, I needed to do some final outside chores and she's gone. I now feel sore and tired and plan to soak in the tub before I retire for the evening to watch news non-stop.
I took pictures of the bare limbs of the green ash tree, uploaded them to my files and while trying to post one, deleted all my photos. Yes, that's right. ALL MY PHOTOS! Happy Halloween fuckers. If this is a cosmic trick without a treat, I'm not amused.
I gave my 1986 Jetta to a friend today. When I went to the DMV to get my new old car registered and get plates for it, I discovered that my old bank had a lean on my old old car. I thought I might just drive over there and park it in their lot, take the keys to them and tell them they have just repossessed a filthy 1986 Jetta. Congratulations Big Bank, it's all yours. But it was easy breezy to get them to sign off on the title. No money changed hands. I like that kind of transaction.
Stella the excellent blogger at Swiftspeech, and the first person to tell me I write like Dorothy Parker, left a comment at my place with this link. I think this is scary, so in honor of one more stupid holiday where nobody gets a day off with pay, I present the real vampire. Art by cartoonist Alex Roth.