31 December, 2008.

It has been an eventful year, to say the least.

Personally, I've been through a lot. In the last year, I died, and somehow -- thanks in large part, I believe, to a good friend who stayed with me through the worst -- came back. Three of my clients (or their publications, to be precise) died, and they didn't come back.

I have reduced the size of the space I occupy on this planet to the absolute minimum. That's not so bad, but even so I am deeper in debt than I was at this moment 365 days ago.

My profession is, I fear, on its last legs. When it is gone, I have no idea what will come next.

I have seen the wealthy bailed out by the government, which intends to send the bill to me. And to you, too.

And, perhaps most unpleasant on a personal level, I remain alone.

The latter tends to take away enthusiasm for the continuing struggle. And a struggle it will be, as everything I can see suggests that 2009 will be no improvement, will in fact be worse. Not only for me, but for everyone who isn't in line for bailout money or "stimulus" payments.

As I write this, it is 2009 on the East Coast. I have heard that the revelers are out in force there. Some are even celebrating here: a few of my neighbors, well-lubricated as usual, are whooping it up.

Maybe they know something I don't. Or maybe, more likely in my view, they know nothing and blindly go on, thinking all will hold together as long as they can get their hands on Mr Cuervo's distilled cactus juice. I have long since realized that liquid stimulus may make you think things are better, but actually does nothing to make it so.

Tomorrow, I'll sit down to work again, doing work that no longer holds much pleasure for me, work that is not valued to any meaningful extent by those for whom I work. People will demand money from me; they will be disappointed, and will react in whatever way they choose.

I'll put on a front as much -- and as long -- as I can. I'll post cat pictures (because, after all, I love cats), and scenic photos, and whatever I think will interest people. I will try, whenever possible, to put the best face on things.

But, when you come right down to it, I can't work up much optimism for 2009, and fear that the entry that appears here one year from tonight will not be any more cheerful than this one.

I think it's time to go to bed. One can't be as depressed when one is asleep. I'll be sorry to miss Art Bell's year-end show, during which he takes predictions for the next year from his listeners, and discusses the results of last year's predictions. That's always seriously strange....

Tomorrow, they say, is another day. Then, I will look for the miracle that proves me wrong about the impending New Year.

If nothing else, I hope 2009 will at least be good for those whom I love, those I care about, and those I simply like.

I've said it before: in reality, misery does not love company.

So have a good New Year.

Pushing my buttons...

...though I suppose I should not admit that it's possible!

I've had a lousy day. A lousy two days, actually, as I have written two articles, neither of which exactly consumed me with the fiery passion of storytelling. Not because the subjects were so awful -- only one fit that description -- but because I'm sick of working for slow-paying companies, sick of agreeing to work for bottom-feeding publications that don't pay much (I've let myself be talked into a couple of those, at least one of which I'll write tomorrow, just to get it the hell over with and get the damn checks, which I need).

One thing I worry about in situations like this -- aside from the usual worries about paying bills, buying food and general survival -- is that I'm turning out crap. That adds to the frustration, and slows work way down.

Take the story I wrote yesterday as an example. At the beginning, I had no idea what I was going to say; that's actually unusual for me. It meant I had trouble coming up with a good lede, and without that I'm no better than the infinite number of monkeys who didn't write the works of Shakespeare.

Then I started to think about a biography of William Claude Dukinfield I read not long ago, and decided to try using some flowery verbiage for comedic effect. I figured I'd get a laugh out of the editor, even if she sent it back for a rewrite.

She sent me an email today: "Just got through not editing your wonderful piece...I wish you could write everything I edit, but that would surely put me out of a job, or at least reduce me to some sort of administrative role!"

Ahhh, praise! That always reduces me to the approximate state of a puppy having its belly rubbed...makes me forget all the other grief. Really.

Well, it almost makes me forget....

I'm still in a bad mood. But now I'm in a better bad mood.

Still, I wouldn't object if another selected individual or two tried a similar approach to coaxing me into a state of good cheer. Sugar is more attractive than vinegar, and all that....

There will always be an England...

...but I'm not sure what they're putting in the water over there after reading This article in The Sun UK.

Excerpts below:

A RECORD number of Brits changed their names by deed poll in 2008...A staggering 46,000 people — 15 per cent more than last year — reinvented themselves.

...Aron Brown, 25, of Derby, changed his name to Aron Mufasa Columbo Fonzerelli Ball In A Cup Boogie Woogie Brown....

...Daniel Westfallen, 27, from Hornchurch, Essex, became Happy Adjustable Spanners after drawing names out of a hat.

...But stockbroker Chris Brewer, 25, of Leeds, had trouble convincing cops his name was Tintin Captain Haddock Confused Brewer...

There's a list of the "Top 10" weird new monikers the Sun reporter found, plus a photo of one of the re-named Brits, in the story. I think you should click on the link and see for yourself.

And I thought Americans were giving their kids nutball names these days....

Mi casa es...

...the neighborhood cats' casa, too!

I opened my screen door yesterday to get a little fresh air in the pad. Honey came zooming in...



Followed by her daughter, Max...



PARENTHETICAL REAL-LIFE NOTE: The cap was already on the bed. It happened to be the one I was wearing yesterday. It was appropriate, so I left it....

Until yesterday, Max had been rather skittish around me. I was seldom able to pet her. But she's decided to be friendly. And, clearly, neither she nor Honey was particularly intimidated by going into a strange place...



Girl, the third member of the pack, tried the bed but decided my serape (which now lives on top of my improvised linen storage, an ex-bookcase) was more comfortable...



Of course after a while they heard their "mom" drive up, and left without so much as a thank-you for my hospitality*.

No matter. I love cats. And these three are exceptional neighbors....


* Yes, I was thinking about writing something to the effect that it has been a long time since I had one female, let alone two, inviting themselves in and getting comfortable on my bed. And I was going to say something about a third waiting by the clean sheets and towels...but I won't.

Now it can be told (part 36,739)...

...Santa Claus is a commie bastard. I was right all along.

Today started out cold, gloomy and rainy. Later, the rain stopped...



Now, it's cold and, of course, dark. Windy as hell, too.

Whatever local stops ol' St Nick made didn't include my pad. Maybe I should have left a shot of Jim Beam out for him after all. Or maybe he just didn't get my requests....

A friend suggested that we take in a movie this morning, which we did. My two-word review of "Marley and Me" follows: don't bother. I have nothing at all against movies with dogs in 'em, but neither the two leading human characters nor the dog give you much reason to like them. I hear the book from which the movie was made is excellent, though.

This afternoon, my musician friend R. called. That's always a real pleasure. I spent some time talking with him, and then talked with his dad, who is (*coughs*) more my age. It's good to talk to people who share your interests*, and happen to be nice, fun folks into the bargain.

I'm giving my favorite Christmas recordings one last listen before they go back on the shelf for another year.

And then it will be December 26, and all I will have to do is make it through New Year's before returning to the usual routine.

I hope your Christmases were far more rewarding!

I gotta tell you, though, if I leave a snack out for Santa (that commie bastard!) next year, he better bring someone along to taste it first to make sure I haven't laced it with anything, Jim.


* I have long since learned not to be bitterly jealous of the musical talent both display. It must be genetic; when I first heard R.'s father perform, it was apparent where the kid got his phenomenal chops. But I forgive them for being so accomplished musically, while I am -- and always will be -- a hack. I usually forgive them, that is....

Another Christmas tradition...

...presented with a photo of Santa's 21st-Century sleigh leaving Where The Ghetto Meets The Sea ("Mommy, why are all of Santy's helpers Chinese?")...



Actually this post is strictly for kids. Also big people who know kids, have kids, or never stopped being kids....

It's time for NORAD Tracks Santa!

This has gotten progressively cooler over the years, never more so than when NORAD hooked up with Google Earth. I suppose the "official" idea is to make this an Educational Experience for the Yoots of the world, but I persist in thinking it simply makes the whole thing more fun.

At this very moment, the Big Guy is rapidly approaching Aqtobe, Kazakhstan. He'll have been there and moved on by the time you read these words.

This will be even more of a groove when Santa moves into areas for which Google Earth has the ultra high-definition imagery. Might even see him as he scoots down your chimney!

I'll be watching when he hits a few select spots, you can be sure. Including mine. Not having a chimney's a bit of a drag, though. But he can drop then lumps of coal right in the mailbox.

I kid, Santa, I kid....

Christmas Eve Eve...

...and it has been a cloudy and cool one...



A friend -- a superb photographer -- did some cloud shots here the other day. One in particular looked, as I told her, "like a herd of poodles." The clouds I saw and photographed just look like clouds, alas.

But I did run across an interesting new take on the life of Jesus that, if generally adopted as fact, might have profound effects on Christmas displays and those who take the role of Jesus in plays, movies and various church pageants....

I thought I'd seen damn near everything...

...but something I laid peepers on today really threw me for a loop.

PARENTHETICAL YOU-CAN'T-HAVE-EVERYTHING NOTE: Nope, didn't get a photo. There was no place to stop to get one. If I can con someone into driving me past the scene tomorrow, I will, and will of course put up any shots I get.

I happened to be driving past the local marble orchard. I don't usually spare it a second glance. But I had to stare this time.

PARENTHETICAL IT'S-DIFFERENT-IN-CALIFORNIA NOTE: This is not the traditional kind of dirt-nappery those of you who live in more civilized places would expect. Rather than monuments and other signs of individuality, every resident gets a simple, identical, flat, the-lawn-mower-passes-right-over-it plaque. It's not even a "cemetery;" rather, it's a memorial park. If I hadn't already willed my body to the local dog-food cannery, I would definitely not want to be in one of these places, where lawn sprinklers stand out as much as the Dear Departeds do....

Okay, so this place is on a long hill, and you can see quite a bit of it from the street. And what I saw was: Christmas decorations.

Whaaaaaa...?

That's right. Little forests of candy canes surrounding some of the markers, tiny trees with Christmas ornaments on 'em, even -- I think -- a few Christmas stockings.

I dig weirdness, but that's a little too bizarre even for me, Jim.

I'm pretty certain that place is one Santa will not have on his itinerary on the 25th. And I doubt that anyone there is eagerly awaiting presents.

Flowers on appropriate days, yes. That's cool. I've even left a few posies at appropriate grave-sites myself in the past. Maybe, in places where the local beliefs tend that way, an offering or two to speed the Loved One to the Hereafter. Maybe -- and I know nothing about this -- some kind of Voodoo trinket to take the heat off the soul making its Final Journey.

But Christmas decorations? Presents? Stockings? Nuh-uh.

That really wigs me out.

California. Sheesh.

Hubert Eaton, the man who created Forest Lawn, would be freaked out by it, too....

It's that time again...

...when I link to my favorite music-and-animation tribute to the season...



The performance is by the Drifters, with the great Clyde McPhatter singing lead, and the cartoon is by Joshua Held...



Every year, I watch this, over and over. It always makes me feel good.

I'm not really feelin' the emotion this year. I don't have a TV, so I can't watch "It's a Wonderful Life" (which would either make me want to look for a bridge over an icy river or push my fist through the TV screen I don't have) or any of those "classic" holiday movies (Bing Crosby was not a member of my damn family, and I have never lugged a tree home through the snow). But seeing this warms me, every time.

There are certain people I wish I could share the watching experience with in person, particularly...no, let's not go there. This is second-best, anyway.

I hope you enjoy it.

So far, it's been a day for...

...cats on porches...



Across the street from each other, no less!



I've been going out for lots of short walks, hoping to get a photo of something I've seen twice, but never when I had my camera. When you don't have the opportunity to pose things, you have to take pot luck....

A lovely day...

...if you like cold, rainy days during which the electricity goes out for three straight hours, that is.

Right now, the thermometer is showing 42 degrees. Well, it was; I brought it in because it was shivering. It's a California thermometer, you know. I suspect it'll get a bit colder tonight.

My 1923-vintage building is not a paragon of good insulation, so the heater gets more of a workout than I'd like. During the blackout this evening, I was relieved to have a gas heater, as it kept on working. I'd definitely have propane service if I lived in the boonies.

And I may be forced boonie-ward by the shenanigans the state government is trying to pull: since tax increases require a two-thirds "yes" vote in the State Assembly for approval, the shitweasels in the majority (numerical majority, but not up to two-thirds) have decided to pass a huge package of "fee" increases on everything from gasoline to sales taxes to income taxes. In the meantime, they are whining about the service cuts they'll still have to make. Oddly enough, the reductions all seem to involve children, the elderly and police officers.

Funny thing: the rest of us generally have to stop spending when we run out of money. What a concept; wonder if it'll ever occur to them?

A lot of people are going to have a crappy Christmas season, it seems. Three people I know have lost their jobs in the last few days as a result of the economic meltdown. More will follow.

But while they look for nonexistent replacement jobs, they'll get to pay more for basic necessities so the government can go on funding graft-ridden junk like "anti-gang" programs (all, without exception, failures), big pay increases for unionized government workers and, of course, ever-increasing perks for the "public servants" themselves.

Don't let me get started on this crap with the economy and the government's responses to it. Makes me angrier than I can say.

I am at least glad I'm not traveling tonight. Several freeways leading out of town are closed tonight due to heavy snowfall. Hell, it even snowed in Vegas today, though 95% of the people there probably didn't notice. No windows in the casinos, you know.

I hope it snows here tonight. That'd not only be historic, but it would keep me focused on local stresses.

Just heard a radio commercial: "Pepper spray makes a wonderful stocking stuffer!"

I give up. At least for tonight.

Clamping down...

...yeah, I'm feeling as if someone clamped one of those "Oregon Boots" on my noggin...



Even aspirin can't do much for that.

I can think of various libations that might help, but I don't do that these days when I can avoid it....

Guess I'll just go back to work. Two articles in a row that have me scrambling for something -- anything -- to say, and will likely not end up in my "favorite clips" file.

Even the most definitely non-mighty can fall, Jim.

Does this look like...

...the leading edge of a "fierce winter storm" to you?



No? I didn't think so....

Yet that's what the newspeople are yammering about: cold temps (they got that right, at least by local standards: it's 49 here right now) and maybe a half-inch of rain tonight, plus another inch possible tomorrow.

When it happens, I'll believe it.

It hasn't been a particularly swell day. I've been working on an article for a client I dislike. No, it's not that I have anything personally against the editor*. It's the small -- and very slow-to-arrive -- checks.

But I'm not turning any client down these days. My time of being pursued by quality publications, brief as it was, is now over, probably for good. I'm officially a hack-for-hire now....

If nothing else made me realize I'm in no position to say "no" to even the grungiest assignments -- and plenty of things do that I'm not talking about, believe me -- it was coming across my Christmas gift list today. Not that I was ever thinking in terms of high-end stuff for those I wanted to send a little tangible love and appreciation this season; now, I'm looking at a bad case of nothin'. For anyone.

That really hurts, Jim.

It's what I get for having called Santa a commie bastard, I guess.



* PARENTHETICAL FULL-DISCLOSURE FOOTNOTE: Okay, so that's a bit of a fib. He doesn't know damn-all about the subjects his magazine covers, and he can be an arrogant little so-and-so when questioned about some of his unsupportable statements. At least he is being nice now, when he apparently has a shortage of good copy coming in. Won't make his boss pay any more, or any quicker, though.

A gray Sunday...

...and a chilly one, too. It's 52 degrees here, windy (which makes it feel colder) and the rain the weather-clowns have been predicting looks to be on its way.

So what better thing to take a picture of than a gray cat in front of a gray house? A gray cat in front of a gray cat in front of a gray house, that is...



I'm feeling severely beaten right now, and seem to have become invisible to those I'd love to hear from.

Maybe I'll be able to write later....

Another one bites the dust...

...as an email, sent out a half-hour ago, informed me that another magazine I write for has abruptly closed down.

That's the third one this year.

Once again, I get to eat a lot of time spent on dealing with them -- and, probably, a sum of money owed to me for work already done or in progress.

Damn.

What now?

I start selling myself again tomorrow. It gets more difficult every time I have to start clawing my way back up in the pile.

Between sunrise and sunset...

...I have absolutely no idea of what happened during this day.

I clearly remember this...



...and, much later, this...



Oh, I got some necessary things done, but all more-or-less on automatic pilot And there were things I couldn't do, which may be why I'm drawing a blank when I think back on the past hours.

I know the sun will rise again tomorrow. Right now, that simply means I'll have to start the whole damnable endless chain of frustration again.

Right now, I don't want to think about today or tomorrow.

The Legends rolled into town today...

...the Legends car club, that is!

They parked along one of our major streets to collect Christmas toys for kids who might otherwise have to do without, as they do every year...



And they brought Señor y Señora Santa Claus with them to take requests and hand out candy canes to all the good little niños and niñas...




Of course their main goal was to collect toys. As usual, I didn't have a new, unwrapped toy with me while I was out for a walk*, but they also took cash donations, so I was able to chip in. Not as much as I'd like, but the budget is severely strained this year.

Most of their firme coches were, naturally, Chevrolets -- "Chebbies" as we say Where The Ghetto Meets The Sea...



Including this most excellent Corvair, a car that will always live in my heart as the first car I ever spun out (yes, that's a '40 Ford behind it, but don't tell anyone, okay?)...



I'll take it, Santa! Don't even need the bow...




Ever since I've been living here, I've wanted to join the Legends. Gotta have the right ride, though. Oh, well, maybe someday. And I hope it's in time to join in on the toy drive, which is very cool, indeed....


* PARENTHETICAL NOT-SUITABLE-FOR-CHILDREN FOOTNOTE: In fact, I possess only one new, unwrapped in-its-original-box toy of any kind. It's a very unusual "Hello Kitty" toy and I am saving it for the moment when the right woman tells me (or wordlessly suggests) that's she's ready for both a laugh and a different kind of, shall we say, "buzz"....

The sun never sets on the British...

...MP3 Player?"

That sentence was written with the help of the latest edition of the Oxford Junior Dictionary, which throws out a sheaf -- no, "sheaf" is one of the words excised, as is "empire" -- of words considered obsolete, unnecessary or, horror of horrors, not "multicultural" enough for the yoots of today.

There is a great outcry among Christians that many of the words now relegated to the dustbin of history (or at least restricted to larger dictionaries for larger people) are associated with their religion. That does seem odd, as England has historically been a rather overtly Christian nation. That has changed somewhat in recent years with an influx of Muslim immigrants, and the Brits seem almost suicidal in their desire to make sure they are an "inclusive" and "tolerant" nation.

It is that Euro-centric insistence on throwing away your own culture to make different cultures feel "at home" that will, in time, sap the last energy out of Western Civilization.

PARENTHETICAL I-LOVE-MELTING-POTS THOUGHT: There is nothing wrong with making a place for people of different backgrounds. But what we have lost is the "melting" aspect of the "pot." As we coexist with different and interesting people, all must make allowances for differing customs, languages and beliefs. When one -- particularly one not part of local traditions -- demands preferential treatment, that is simply wrong.

But I digress (slightly).

From the Telegraph (UK) article: "Vineeta Gupta [that's a name that, for an arbiter of what is proper English vocabulary, makes my white-boy resentful reactions surface], the head of children's dictionaries at Oxford University Press, said: "...When you look back at older versions of dictionaries, there were lots of examples of flowers for instance. That was because many children lived in semi-rural environments and saw the seasons. Nowadays, the environment has changed. We are also much more multicultural. People don't go to Church as often as before. Our understanding of religion is within multiculturalism, which is why some words such as "Pentecost" or "Whitsun" would have been in 20 years ago but not now."

So kids don't need to know about flowers? Per Vineeta Gupta and the Oxford people, they also don't need to know about altars, saints, sins, devils or coronations.

Oh, hell. Here's the list of excised words. Decide for yourself: Carol, cracker, holly, ivy, mistletoe

Dwarf, elf, goblin

Abbey, aisle, altar, bishop, chapel, christen, disciple, minister, monastery, monk, nun, nunnery, parish, pew, psalm, pulpit, saint, sin, devil, vicar

Coronation, duchess, duke, emperor, empire, monarch, decade

adder, ass, beaver, boar, budgerigar, bullock, cheetah, colt, corgi, cygnet, doe, drake, ferret, gerbil, goldfish, guinea pig, hamster, heron, herring, kingfisher, lark, leopard, lobster, magpie, minnow, mussel, newt, otter, ox, oyster, panther, pelican, piglet, plaice, poodle, porcupine, porpoise, raven, spaniel, starling, stoat, stork, terrapin, thrush, weasel, wren.

Acorn, allotment, almond, apricot, ash, bacon, beech, beetroot, blackberry, blacksmith, bloom, bluebell, bramble, bran, bray, bridle, brook, buttercup, canary, canter, carnation, catkin, cauliflower, chestnut, clover, conker, county, cowslip, crocus, dandelion, diesel, fern, fungus, gooseberry, gorse, hazel, hazelnut, heather, holly, horse chestnut, ivy, lavender, leek, liquorice, manger, marzipan, melon, minnow, mint, nectar, nectarine, oats, pansy, parsnip, pasture, poppy, porridge, poultry, primrose, prune, radish, rhubarb, sheaf, spinach, sycamore, tulip, turnip, vine, violet, walnut, willow

I think life would be damn dull without poodles, spaniels and budgerigars, but what do I know?

I am only one who has, for many years, made a living stringing words together. One of the things that has worked in my favor is that I tend to place interesting words in those strings.

And where did I begin to learn them? From children's books. No, not modern ones, but the children's readers and stories of a century or more ago. They contained words that would send the kids of today -- and many younger adults -- scurrying for their dictionaries. Where they would find no help, by the way.

Of course the multicultural, keep-it-modern lexicographers have added new words: Blog, broadband, MP3 player, voicemail, attachment, database, export, chatroom, bullet point, cut and paste, analogue

Celebrity, tolerant, vandalism, negotiate, interdependent, creep, citizenship, childhood, conflict, common sense, debate, EU, drought, brainy, boisterous, cautionary tale, bilingual, bungee jumping, committee, compulsory, cope, democratic, allergic, biodegradable, emotion, dyslexic, donate, endangered, Euro

Apparatus, food chain, incisor, square number, trapezium, alliteration, colloquial, idiom, curriculum, classify, chronological, block graph

Never mind that some of those don't, in my view, qualify as words....

My poor language is dying. In another century, people will be communicating with grunts and pictographs.

I don't care. I won't be here to see it. But it bugs me right now.

Took a walk today...

...partly because some things happening right now have me somewhat crazed, but also because it's a beautiful day Where The Ghetto Meets The Sea...



Tonight is the local Christmas boat parade, and some people were out getting the decorations ready...



I haven't done the four-mile walk for over a month. Had no problem with it, and was happy to see my favorite, well, "Boat" was still in its slip...



Why does "Boat" crack me up? Couldn't tell you, but it gets a smile from me every time I see it.

No fishing boats working today, so only one pelican. Had to take his photo, though...



There are a few things -- very few, really, and very specific they are, too -- that could cheer me up as much as I'd like, but the walk certainly helped!

Yesterday's sunset...

...looked like this...



But I didn't post it, simply because I didn't feel like writing.

I don't feel like writing tonight.

The high spot of my day? Meeting two large -- and not totally unfriendly -- raccoons while I was out walking a while ago. They trailed me for half a block or so, never getting too close but not running away, either.

I suppose I should be grateful I'm alone tonight. After all, there are only three places to sit in my miniature pad (if you don't count two spots in the bathroom and the front stoop): my office chair, kitchen chair, and the bed. Not ideal for hospitality.

And I'm mad at myself: some notes I need to complete a couple of articles are either in boxes at the storage unit (where it would take a long time to find them) or got thrown away during the worst parts of the move. They are not here, and I will have to improvise and fake my way through my writing without them. I can do it, but it bugs me.

Why, you may ask, don't I pick up the phone and reach out to friends?

Having been raised to be polite is what you might call a mixed blessing. I don't want to interrupt anyone who is having a good time, or is busy, or whatever. On the other hand, my reticence about intruding makes me invisible to people who might talk to me.

The grim feeling of isolation, of sensing that you don't exist as far as most people are concerned, of thinking you need others more than they need you, is a real downer, Jim.

Be glad you're not here tonight!

Letting sleeping cats lie...

...or, according to little Honey, "my 'mom' gave you this blanket; who says I'm not supposed to snooze on it?"

Only 24 more days...

...and you know the rest.

Christmas lights are beginning to appear Where The Ghetto Meets The Sea. This display probably gives its owner an electricity bill higher than my rent...



And even the International Order of Red Men's lodge got some lights this year...



I wrote a letter to Santa. I'm betting the old commie bastard's gonna ignore me again this year. I didn't ask for much. At least it wasn't exactly large, and would fit nicely in his sleigh. But ol' Santa will probably want to keep my gift for himself....