Sunday morning

Watched about one thousand hours of Queer As Folk yesterday/last night. It’s actually better than I’d imagined, kind of like a mass produced response to Angels In America. But it did drift embarrassingly into sit-com/privileged white girl angst territory quite a few times.


Maybe I should play some Debussy a little later, after I’ve ingested the obligatory 23 pounds of Sunday morning indignation from the television machine. I’m kind of playing Suite bergamasque for the past few weeks. I know I know, I didn’t capitalize the initial letter in bergamasque. Neither did Ms. Debussy apparently. Clap your hands if you love Debussy.

Oh btw, I read that incredible WaPo piece about Russia. it’s about 105 pages long. Scary shit. I never though that people would be capable of suffering months of sustained embarrassment – maybe years. It’s a nightmare for sure, but being constantly embarrassed is just so weird. “Orwellian” has been manifested in reality.

The most pressing question facing me now is: Should I shower and shave in preparation for my breakfast of Joy Reid, George Stephanopoulous (who knows) and/or the CBS guy, who I really kind of admire.


Probably not.  Fuck it.

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