Sore Wrist; Computer Probs; To Momsy's I Go; "Bruised Angel"

Last time, I mentioned watching "Kisses from Bel Ami" - "A Comprehensive Sampler of the Best in Male Erotica." This was around 6:30 am. Only watched 15 minutes or so. Odd, my right wrist sure has been sore the last couple of days.

I'm having trouble believing that the guys are "gay for pay." They seem to be having far too much fun. Or else, they are very good performers.

Where oh where does Bel Ami find these men? One or two or three stud muffins, I can understand. But they seem to have dozens. Maybe job opps are lousy in eastern Europe, and guys who might normally go into law, business, medicine, etc., find male erotica more lucrative.

Speaking of this reminds me that I saw "The Fluffer" the other night. The plot is predictable - young gay guy falls for humpy "straight" porn star who uses young gay guy and then dumps him. No sex. And virtually no romance. It actually has little to do with sex and far more to do with duplicity.

By now, I was fairly certain that I'd downloaded something in the last few days that was corrupted. Two possibilities came to mind. The Norton antivirus updates which popped up Wednesday night. Or the Windows fixes and patches which also appeared on Wed. I've had this happen a couple of times before, and I had to totally reload the system from scratch. A royal pain!

Windows XP has a restore feature that lets you reset the system to a prior date. BUT, the laptop didn't want to do that either. This time it didn't even blink. I turned it off. Restarted. Off again. Started again. Tried restore and after a few minutes it came up. So I went back to April 10, and then everything was fine.

But this threw off my schedule. I'd been told yesterday that we could leave at noon. So I frantically tried to catch up. Then at 11:30 my mother called and said she was sick. And could I go by the grocery and the pharmacy. I gave up trying to go to lunch and worked until 3.

Next I stopped at the post office; dropped off my antidepressant prescription at "my" pharmacy; and drove on to the grocery. It only took a few minutes to pick up everything. But in the checkout line, the clerk scanned one item four times, when each item had a separate price.

Momsy lives in the next county, and it always seems a very different place. Ag boys in Mustangs. Bubbas in pickups. The petite housewife in a battered caddy. And post yuppies in SUVs. I feel like I'm going to be stopped at the county line and asked for my visa.

I weaved through the crooked streets. And by chance passed the former house of a friend from high school. (Dan - the green-eyed, blond kid that I loved so much it hurt. I want a time machine, so I can go back and be in love again.)

The dumpy drug store was my final stop. And I didn't have enough money even though I'd stopped at the ATM. So I had to charge it. I sped on to momsy's, unloaded the car, talk briefly and left. I'm fairly certain she is contagious.

As I left, I opted for a different route back. I headed for the Interstate and passed THE traffic circle. (One of those circles that allows cars to merge into and out of the flow.) It's the only one in the state. A total novelty for the area. People have not a fucking clue how to use it. So within one week, yield signs were installed. Which I guess makes it even more of a novelty.

When I left home this morning, I'd grabbed Radiohead's "Amnesiac." And I listened to it on and off during the day. You either adore Radiohead, or you just don't get it. They are certainly a far cry from "regular" groups. I found myself trying to sing along. Without success. The lyrics are oblique at best. So I did more high-pitched humming than anything. "Rolling Stone" said Thom Yorke sounds like "a bruised angel." And his voice certainly is an etheral instrument.

PAX!