Tuesday - 2008-0415-2200 - Rain - Chris Holt - we spoke as we walked; James Dean in Red Jacket; Lawn Events; Lowe's and Inside Renovations; Lowe's and Tools; Depression and Anger and Mother

Rain - Chris Holt - we spoke as we walked Larger Image

James Dean in Red Jacket Larger Image

Another night time rain image at London pictures and travel photography galleries by uk photographer Christopher Holt. If the image is directly accessible from the main page, I can't figure where or how. However, it is to be found at we_spoke_as_we_walked.jpg.

I love that name "we spoke as we walked." As always, I'm fascinated by the splash of reflected glow on the pavement from the street lights. And the smoke of mystery lurks in the shadows.

In looking back at the collection of James Dean images I've saved, I have far more than I thought I did. And many come as a complete surprise. I definitely don't remember saving them. So they may date from several years ago.

My guess with this one is that it is a publicity shot for "Rebel Without a Cause." Initially, it was to be shot in black-and-white. But once the decision was made to go for color, Dean wanted something that would stand out. And he chose the red jacket, which is one of the few iconic representations of America cinema. (This image has yet to make its way to the Pensive Image section.)

If I remember correctly, at one point, he even lets Plato (Sal Mineo) wear it.

I will always maintain that "Rebel" is one of the great pivotal movies in all of cinema on any number of levels.

Yesterday, I mowed part of the front yard for the first time this season. I'd tried raking first, but the leaves were too tangled in the grass. And this afternoon, I finished the remainder. This time, I was able to rake the reddish slightly crescent-shaped pine "seedlings." I'm assuming these are expelled from the cones. And I must say there are a lot of them.

Yesterday, I made my first stop at Lowe's in about a month. I bought four 8-foot sections of polyurethane cornice molding for the living room. Of course, the room itself is various states of completion. One wall has yet to be touched. Nothing has been done to the three wooden windows. I've painted the baseboards (enamel white) of two walls.

Several weeks ago, I'd made the mistake of using a textured spray paint on the inside of the steel door. When the fuck will I learn NOT to do this. It looked terrible. And took forever to remove. I then bought a flat spray paint, but it was too light to cover the scrapes from the removal process. I've painted the outside a semi-texturized terra cotta. So I happen to wonder what that would look like on the inside. So I tried a small section and discovered I really liked it. But I don't like the spray. It's too hard to control, and it leaves a very strong odor. So in a moment of sheer genius, I thought about getting high-gloss paint in the same color in a can. That way I can paint the entire door in a single vibrant color that will provide a great transition from outside to in.

A couple of days ago, I found that the reciprocating saw was inoperable. Not surprising since it has had at least two years of very heavy usage. So today, I bought a duplicate.

I also bought something I said I would never buy: a leaf blower. Trying to renovate the inside, keep the yard up, refurbish the back of the house has gotten to be a major undertaking, so I'm looking for electromechanical help. At least this one is electric, so maybe it will not be too loud.

And I got two pints of the paint I wanted. I also picked up a set of ten small 1-inch square tiles to use under the pots on the front stoop. When the distracted clerk rang up everything, the amount was about $210, which struck me as I moved away as a tad much. I looked at the ticket and figured out she had scanned the tiles and then multiplied it by ten. Yikes! The tiles were on sale for $1.76, but her ineptitude had pushed it to $17.60. I thought how fortunate it was that I checked, because usually, I don't look at the receipt.

I noticed when I aproached the clerk, she looked "out of it." So one might charitably assume she was not feeling well. Or she needed her lunch. Because I heard someone say she could go to lunch.

On the way home, I was overcome with a deep sense of longing for Hermes. He was such a wonderful companion. I can not help but feel a degree of guilt that I did not take him to the vet earlier. Of course, a day does not go by that I do not miss Grae.

For about two hours this afternoon as I mowed, I was haunted by depression and a cold fury primarily aimed at my mother. She did several things over the years that wounded me deeply. I remember in my senior year of high school of receiving a $1500 scholarship. When she arrived home, I ran out to tell her, and she dismissed it with the words, "that won't pay for anything!"

There was a period of several years that she bitched and moaned about my hair. She had a photo of me at the age of ten, she would look at it, and then cry, because she thought I looked so terrible.

Once when I was living in the duplex and was ill, I asked her to pick up a heating pad. When she got there, she mentioned several times about having to pay $8 for the pad.

There was a time after her open-heart surgery that she verbally attacked me for not being there when she became conscious. I told her I had been, but there were strict guidelines about visiting after such an operation. I later mentioned this episode and she had no memory of it.

When she was in the first nursing home, there were multiple calls each day. They had lost her laundry. They were not coming when she called for medicine. She had to have a daily bowel movement, and they would not give her a laxative. The staff didn't like her. She needed more pain medication.

The bowel movement scenario was the most irritating behaviour. I explained again and again that bowel movements were dependent on bulk in the intestinal tract. If you eat only small meals, there will not be enough bulk for a bowel movement. When I moved in to take care of her, it was the same complaint. I tried explaining that if you strain to attempt a bowel movement, you are straining blood vessels throughout the body. She was totally irrational about the subject. And I'm convinced, it was one of the major factor that lead to her stroke. In a stroke, the blood vessels in the brain burst. By her constant straing, she had weakened them significantly. One of the things, I wish I had never done was to look at the MRI of her brain at the hospital. It showed a brain flooded with blood.

I obviously still have highly unresolved psychological issues with my mother and the way she treated me and the way she acted. And frequently, I experience intense bouts of anger about it. This is very similar to the way I feel about my father. The issues there are no less resolved. There are still times that I continue to hate him.

Do I need professional help? Of course I fucking do!

OK! That's enough angst for one evening!!!!!!

(In Tuesday - 2008-0415-2200 / Out - 2008-0416-0030) This entry was written in a single setting.

Pax! Erin go braugh! Je accuse...