On a typical day, I write and listen to music throughout the morning and early afternoon. I play whatever album I’m spotlighting over and over until I’m done, then move onto a succession of forthcoming platters as well as new and old favorites. Both Mikaela Davis’s And Southern Star and Lillian Leadbetter’s State of Romance, which were released late last year, are still in heavy rotation, for example.
Of course, my fine feline friend frequently seeks my attention—and food—during that stretch of time, but that’s okay. He just turned 17, suffers from arthritis and other ailments, and deserves to be spoiled. I also browse the wilds of the Internet, aka various mainstream news sites and other blogs, and read various poetry tomes. I recently re-acquainted myself with John Haag‘s Stones Don’t Float, for example; he was my poetry professor in college and reading through it reminds me of his colorful persona. I’m also looking forward to perusing the Contemporary Catholic Poetry: An Anthology, which is slated to reach me on Thursday. Although I am not Catholic, one of the editors is a friend of ours.
By 2 or 3 in the afternoon, however, I generally shut down the computer. We may need something from the store, there are various chores to be done—and TV to watch. Diane and I recently finished binges of Monk and Gilmore Girls and are now immersed in a series linked (by either actor or creator) to both, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. We’ve seen each multiple times before, I should mention, so the fun now is catching things we previously missed. Plus, with Maisel, it’s wild how the episodes play like mini-movies thanks to the wonderful cinematography and cool soundtrack.
We’re also in the midst of watching an Australian cop drama, City Homicide. It’s somewhat predictable, as most cop shows are, but is set in the exotic-to-us locale of Melbourne. It holds our interest. And we’ve just begun Orphan Black: Echoes, as we were big fans of the original Orphan Black; Only Murders in the Building is another show we enjoy, though we’ve yet to start on the current season. Once six or seven episodes are available, then we’ll press play.
Tonight, however, we won’t be watching for entertainment’s sake. Instead, we’ll be tuned into the debate between Vice President Kamala Harris and the former tinpot despot—aka the rich man’s Hugo Chávez, as I sometimes call him. (I don’t write much about politics, as I prefer keeping my blog a political DMZ—but, based on my descriptions, I’m sure you can figure out where my allegiances lie.)
The Old Grey Cat 