i did not spontaneously combust and other misadventures in sacerdotal flamethrowing

in

Candle lit / in memory of / all saints and sinners whatever and ever amen: all without setting anything including myself on fire by wielding a candle. Victory – though I'm still paying for the pretzel I was able to eat at lunch because the rambling, loquacious minister couldn't edit anything (having never learned anything in the decade he's been at this dying church which begs the obvious question of his hand in its torturous demise) and made a sermon that should have lasted 15 minutes tops last more than an hour and a half. Highlight: his video camera died before he was done and he had no clue. Regardless, good deed for the month complete. Exorcism addendum, complete(?)

ENOLA HOLMES 2 is excellent: think I liked it even more than the first one. Reminds me of the Brendan Fraser MUMMY with something important to say. Marvelous weekend entertainment.

Other thing: my favorite character in all of ZELDA: BREATH OF THE WILD is the turnip(?) with the maracas. One of life's great desires to have been in the room when that bit of (fucked up) brilliance was created.

newsletter sunday 0090

in

Early post this morning as I have to spend the second chunk of my morning being a good human and lighting a candle for someone I spent a quarter century and 96 pages exorcising but hey, Macro0090 is in the wild and I've slept an extra hour so I guess I'm prepared to partake in the ceremonial bloviations which hold no solace or comfort for me whatsoever and absorb and deflect the Im so sorrys and such a wonderful and blah blah blahs and the close proximities and hugs and my late fucking lunch which will REALLY make things bearable because truly, it's the living (and their attendant rituals) that make death un–.

(again) upon a midnight hypo

in

Zombification remains: a midnight hypo alert (whether or not it was truly a hypo is unknown – I didn't feel the usual sweats and immobility simply a profound sense of annoyance and lamentation). Didn't help that I was then awakened by the time alarm in the middle of a dream about my former employ AKA the last time anyone thought I was worth employing. Stupor continues, throughin and throughout.

As per my usual biweekly formula, all consternation WRT the seemingly empty newsletter was for naught. Will be good to go for tomorrow.

formless forms taking form maybe or maybe not

in

Think I somehow combined MARIO with POWERWASH SIMULATOR in this morning's attendance card. Oh, the things that happen in 3.5 minutes.

A single line written this morning (3.5 seconds?) led to a return to another short thing and unlocked the thing that was missing from it – but not enough to push it forward: returned to the other thing in W2. Not ready to follow through on yesterday's notions of connectivity and combination between the two seemingly dissimilar projects (a tonal shift from a projects began and developed before LAST CHRISTMAS and projects began after) but I'm not ready to discount the potential either.

Regardless, the form of PRESS (A) 02 has started to take shape and make sense, if only to me, which is all the sense it will ever / has to make.

Newsletter work this weekend; MacroParentheticals0090 arrives Sunday morning in subscribers' inboxes. You can sign up here, if so inclined.

pump it (up/down/whatever)

in

Fog of bore, continued – unless it lifts in a few minutes, outdoor run seems unlikely.

Weary of hearing about the insulin pump since I drove two hours each way yesterday to be told what I was doing wrong (everything – even though I'm also – said in the same breath – doing all I can: welcome to life with T1D) and given a sales pitch. Lost track of how many times I heard “you’re a smart guy.”

He’s right, of course: not only am I “a smart guy,” but it's time for a pump, to have a device connected to me 24-7 (not that I don't already with the Libre CGM) but with added tubing and beeping – and, yes, from everything I've read about the intended device (TSlimX2), it's the best option for me. I've known it was time for a pump since at least March, if not earlier, but I've put it off.

Alas, that time has come to an end – and so phone calls will be made and the process of Robocop-ing my poochscrewed pancreas will begin later today. Fuck you, immune system.

"4 drawings in (about) 12 minutes"

in

Did another exercise, "4 Drawings in (About) 12 Minutes,” from Lynda Barry's wonderful MAKING COMICS. Rules: – four full-body silent self-portraits in attendance card format, three minutes each. "Draw yourself as: an astronaut in space; turning into an animal; turning into a fruit or vegetable (no bananas); turning into a monster.”

Without further babbling, the fruits of my sketchy toil.

Note: I turned myself into a monster in both cards two and four, though I suppose it could be argued that card two isn't a monster but rather some strange German Shepherd / duck / T-Rex hybrid. Derbzisaurus Quax. Rahr.