Recently some website or other was desperate for my opinion. Would I please, oh please, take a few minutes of my valuable time to fill out a brief survey. So I click on it and they say, first, would you please give us a teensy bit of information about yourself. Sure, why not. One of the questions was age range, and I filled that out truthfully. The next window said, so solly, we find you are not eligible for this survey. Well, screw you too. I hope you and your teeny bopper audience all fall down a huge hell hole and are never seen nor heard from again.

I was never a Michael Jackson fan, and I do understand he captured the focus and imagination of many and had entertainment talent. I saw, through the years, brief excerpts of his stage performances. I could see he was gifted. But I was not interested in watching him beyond a few moments to inform myself. More to the point is that he was a tortured guy who totally destroyed himself with excesses. I would guess his stream of consciousness, were we to be allowed a glimpse, would send even his devoted fans screaming into the wilderness. The saturation coverage of his death is the news game. Less is more, methinks. From the way the story was covered, it was obvious that he was either DOA or died very quickly in the ER, but, for some reason, no one in the family wanted it announced. He was a good-looking kid before he got his face sculpted into a clown mask. One is reminded of the Joker.

Ed was out on the seawall filling in the last of the cracks with cement goo so he was more than annoyed when we got a heavy rain again last night and also this morning. Next step, we buy paint, we paint it. I said I would help.

Leeann, my pal with the convoluted life, has gotten herself a low-end rental on the island that she can afford on her own. It is tiny, it is on a canal (all the houses are on water), all have gulf access without locks in the way. 10 minutes and you are on big water. I am going to suggest she rent her dock, although Ed thinks she doesn’t have the right to. I don’t see why, since if she could rent a room to a friend, why couldn’t she rent dock space? Meanwhile, although he treated her to drunken, abusive phone messages after she left him, Butch is hanging around and she’s letting him. He’s helpful and she thinks she can handle him now that they are not living together. I don’t think so, but she’s not asking me. And if he is hovering, how can she make any other connections? She’s not seeing the big picture. Picture this: Her car is there, she's inside, in bed with a new friend, and Butch is pounding on the door and won’t go away because that’s who he is. Lotsa luck with that.

Ed says Leeann can come over, but, please, not her friends. Have to admit he has a point.

I have been “under water”, fatigued, purposeless, but fighting it. Could it be the oppressive heat and humidity? Let’s think so.

Xx, Teal