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My mother is now in assisted living, in a wonderful place where she will get excellent care. I have been aching to live alone, in a quiet atmosphere in which I could concentrate on writing new books--& that is exactly what I have now, and I hate it. For the moment, anyway. I miss my mama, even though she drove me crazy on account of her dementia and tantrums and all. And I'm feeling so stupid and helpless and frustrated. My wonderful niece got me a new laptop for Christmas, and I have no idea how to set up email or transfer my docs from the old computer into the new one. I hate Windows 8 and will be installing Windows 7. Then I ordered a new desk and two bookcases from OfficeDepot, but they came in sections that need to be assembled. I may be able to figure out how to put together the bookcases, but the desk is so complicated and portions so heavy that there is no way I can do it, especially not alone. Oy, ye angst!
To take my mind off things I've been doing mass house-cleaning and rearranging rooms. I have the front and dining rooms to where I really like how they look and feel--not too different from the way that mom had it, she had a good eye for house design; but obviously now the realm of Wilum ye Writer. I spent most of today rearranging my bedroom and the small room (it was my bedroom when I was six years old), and most of that consisted of moving milk crates in which I keep my books, and then moving some of the bedroom furniture. I overdid it a bit and became extremely worn out, so I just had a good nap.
Thus I enter a new phase, and one of ye final phases, of my life. Made me reflect about my strange, curious and fabulous history. I present some of that to you now in photos.
My combined Jewish/Native American heritage was far more evident when I was a wee kid. My mom's friends would joke that I was an adopted Eskimo child.
Oy, those Jewish Kafkaesque ears!
On my way to Ireland to serve two years as a Mormon missionary. I got so home sick that I pretended to have breathing problems (I did have one weak lung), so after 16 months the church sent me to the Arizona/Las Vegas Mission to finish my two years in sunlight.
A young punk rocker, and a kitty cat.
Combined my queer lifestyle with my punk lifestyle, & became Seattle's notorious "Boy George guy."
From a newspaper article featuring Seattle horror writers.
Discovering the exhibitionist joy and delirium available from doing videos on YouTube. Fun!
Now, at age 61, all of my mad bohemian ways have dissolv'd into one keen resolve: to spend ye remainder of my days writing Lovecraftian weird fiction. That and that alone is my life from here on out.
To take my mind off things I've been doing mass house-cleaning and rearranging rooms. I have the front and dining rooms to where I really like how they look and feel--not too different from the way that mom had it, she had a good eye for house design; but obviously now the realm of Wilum ye Writer. I spent most of today rearranging my bedroom and the small room (it was my bedroom when I was six years old), and most of that consisted of moving milk crates in which I keep my books, and then moving some of the bedroom furniture. I overdid it a bit and became extremely worn out, so I just had a good nap.
Thus I enter a new phase, and one of ye final phases, of my life. Made me reflect about my strange, curious and fabulous history. I present some of that to you now in photos.
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