Lita Roza and I—awake together at 4:30 AM—writing but sober

A singer who doesn’t shout  or pull out her hair?

A singer who doesn’t shout
or pull out her hair?

THIS IS PURE HYPERGRAPHIA. Oh, dear, what can the matter be? Republican government shut-down day.

(Note: That’s a performance of a real song by a real singer, that is, a tune with a steady but not overpowering rhythm performed by a singer who doesn’t shout or pull out her hair—there, does that date me? Too bad. I remember her and the song well.)

What can the matter be? I’m supposed to be grading student essays, went to bed last night with the absolute determination to do so. I’ve gotten a week behind. Fall break is fast approaching and the students must have their grades before that. Oh well, I’ll Git-R-Done! (There, see, I do know something about pop culture.)

But I have to write. I woke up knowing this was going to happen. Or the fact this had to happen is what woke me up. Alice Flaherty herself, in an email exchange I had with her, told me that’s likely what happened. When I have a question, I go right to the source. Well, not usually, but she “wrote the book” on hypergraphia. By the way, Bill Gates thinks “that’s” in the sentence above should be “that am” according to the green squiggles. I wish Microsoft had a hypergraphic working for them, so they would not bother me with such idiocy, especially when their “correction” is so obviously incorrect grammar.

So the impetus for my having to write (if you have OCD or ADHD or any of those other “designer diseases” and need to count the words I’ve written so far, this is for you—the rest of those people who might be reading this simply can’t understand) is an email praising Boy George I received overnight from one of my dearest friends. Boy George?

I had to respond.

Let’s see. Boy George’s first album was released in 1982.

I know the decade from 1976-1986 happened. I’ve read about it in history books. That is to say, I was enthralled (“enthrall, v. 2. to put or hold in slavery; subjugate: to be enthralled by illusions and superstitions”) by my addiction first to ________ and then to ______ from 1976-1988, who were, among other things, my best drinking buddies—I  could for the first time in my life drink exactly the way I wanted to, that is, day and night (I got sober November 15, 1986). Boy George had “a brief period of drug problems?” You mean he was so far gone on heroin he went to jail and then rehab. I never did either of those, but I should have.

_________ and friends (the organists of Boston) were/are musical snobs, and _________ was a hermit. So I was pretty much oblivious to the world around me. Besides, what I wanted was a big strong man to take care of me and let me be a drunk, not a pretty English boy tromping around in dresses. No, I’m afraid Boy George didn’t make much of an impression on me.

Of course, by the time I wrote all of that, I was off and running. The students’ essays can wait. Yesterday I was on the elevator going to

How much IS that doggie in the window?

How much IS that
doggie in the window?

the third floor of Dallas Hall (national register of historic buildings—it’s one of the few buildings in Dallas more than 100 years old that hasn’t been torn down to build a bigger, uglier one in its place) for my 9 AM class. Two guys in my class, members of the football team, got on at the first floor. I berated them for taking the elevator. There should be a sign over it, “Reserved for fat old men.” They said they were so tired. They practice football from 6 to 8 every morning. I told them that by the time they started I had finished a 1,000-word essay. They wouldn’t believe me. Well, I’m not quite going to make that this morning, but close.

So what I really want to be writing about is the self-absorption and traitorous idiocy of John Boehner and Ted Cruz and company. You know what Boehner’s real problem is? He wouldn’t compromise (that is, understand and do politics the way it has worked since the time of Aristotle) and help write the Affordable Care Act three years ago, so now he’s stuck. He said then that it was so flawed it wouldn’t work—rather than help make it better. So now he’d be unhinged to give any ground to it. It’s not Ted Cruz’s fault. He just jumped onto Boehner’s anti-democracy band wagon and is giving it the boost it needs to keep rolling.

I want to use a raunchy expletive here about the Publicans and Sinners, but I’ll let you supply it yourself.

But you see I have little choice about the topic of my writing at this point. I just have to do it. That’s all. You know, my old office was exactly 99 steps, door to door, from the men’s room. My new office (in a different building) is 86 steps. Yes, I checked 86 times. Well, I’m not sure about that. I lost count and have been resisting the urge to start the count over. I’ll just accept the likelihood that it really is 86 steps without counting 86 times.

If you were as mean as he is,  you'd have shifty eyes, too.

If you were as mean as he is,
you’d have shifty eyes, too.

I also want to put some more “hyper-links” (of course, anything that’s named “hyper” is for me when I get started writing) in here, but the advice of WordPress to bloggers is to keep the “hyper-links” to a minimum, that too many of them will scare people off and reduce readership.

So I’m almost at a thousand words here, and I can probably stop without driving myself crazy. Do you know what the best thing about working with a trainer is? You have to count all of the sets and all of the reps in the sets. An hour of counting, counting, counting.

Of course, my gut and my butt (that is, my abs and my glutes) are sore as hell this morning, but it’s a small enough price to pay. There. 1000+ words (if Microsoft word count can be trusted).

Bye now!

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