Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. I didn’t sleep well, so I feel a bit off this morning–I’ve kind of have felt weird all week, but last night I figured it out; I keep forgetting that my meds remove my mental anxiety, but my subconscious continues to send anxiety messaging to my body, which reacts…it’s very disconcerting, but not enough to stop taking them, ever. It’s nice not having my mind going into those horrible spirals anymore. Last night, I was very relaxed and comfortable in bed but never felt like I went into a deep sleep and kept waking up. But I don’t feel tired, just off a bit still–identifying why doesn’t solve the problem. I am hoping for a good day before my work at home day/drive to Baton Rouge for author party tomorrow. I plan on going to the party and probably just having a single glass of white wine (if that) and heading back to the hotel to read in bed–I’d love to finish Mazywood before the 31st, but it’s not a big deal if I don’t. See? That would have stressed me out before medication.
We finished watching Below, which really took a turn in the final two episodes I most definitely didn’t see coming. At the time, I was disappointed with the sharp turn it took, but the more I think about it the more I do appreciate it, even if there was kind of a tonal shift in the story. Josh Hartnett has aged beautifully, and he is good as the male lead, an ice harvester trying to scrape out a living for him and his kids on a rough little island off the Newfoundland coast. I was also pleased to see two familiar faces in Charlie Heaton (Stranger Things) and Rohan Campbell (The Hardy Boys). The episodes average about thirty minutes or so; so it can be taken in little bites or all at once in a binge pretty easily.
I also managed to get a newsletter out for Halloween Horror Month, in which I revisited the book version of The Amityville Horror (click on the blue if you want to read it), which actually offended my intelligence on the second read, approximately fifty years after the first. I don’t know what went before my own awareness of these things (I have started saying “I noticed this first” rather than stating something as a fact; because just because I didn’t experience, or was aware of, something doesn’t mean that that it was new when I discovered it for the first time.) I did notice, because my interest was intrigued, by things that cannot be explained, and that seemed to be very prevalent in my second decade. I did always love Ripley’s Believe It or Not on the comics page, and used to buy the book collections…which naturally led me to curiosity about things like Atlantis (whether it was the first time I’d heard of it or not, Atlantis the Lost Continent on the afternoon movie is a film I never forgot), the Bermuda Triangle, UFOs, Area 51–all those marvelous things that popped up into the culture during the 1970s, were all things I explored as a teenager. (It was also the decade that saw a horror revival with Rosemary’s Baby, The Exorcist and The Other.)
I also spend some time yesterday working on a newsletter essay about the trap of masculinity and rigid definitions of this; I’ve always felt that, since I am a man, anything I do is therefore masculine by definition. Maybe not in the way society likes to define masculinity, at any rate, but who made those rules, why are they so restrictive, and why does raising a son seem to mean breaking his spirit and turning him into an emotionally stunted, distant person? I often wonder–and I don’t have the time to investigate–I can’t research everything I think is interesting, after all–if men are performing masculinity for approval (which means you ain’t no alpha, bitch boi) rather than actually feeling it…it could explain a lot about the so-called “masculinity crisis.” I also wonder if an infant with no socializing as of yet will actually be drawn to toys and colors that are traditionally gendered, rigidly. (No straight man would be caught wearing pink, at least not until the 80s, without suspicion, is another example of this idiocy. (One of the reasons I want to revisit Larry McMurtry’s The Last Picture Show is because a lot of the boys’ behavior is just that, a performance, especially from Sonny. There’s also some queer content in the book which especially needs revisiting (remember, McMurtry co-wrote the screenplay for Brokeback Mountain).
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will chat with you again tomorrow morning once Sparky gets me out of bed. Till then!
