Sluggo's Irrelevancy Tunnel

Step on a crack.

Sun, 13 Jul 2008 21:49:01 GMT

It came to my attention that I have this lovely big Live Journal thingie in relatively mint condition, since nothing's being written or added to it, and I was going to try and rectify that situation ... but OH my back ... Things have taken a turn for the ~~worse~~ ~~worst~~ ~~worserer~~ Dude, it sucks.

Every time I think that I've got a handle on the situation, along the lines of "Okay, this hurts, but I can deal with it; I've got these pills and I just do what the MD says," the back throws a little MONKEY WRENCH into the proceedings and ramps things up a notch. Said notch in this case being Friday night, when I was just sitting in Luxuria chat having a great ole time during Becky's show, when ...

SKRITCH

It started off slow, like the orchestra tuning up before a performance of the 1812 Overture, and felt like someone was poking me in the back with a stick or a butter knife. Well, it was time for meds anyway, so I popped a couple and went on with my bad self. Until ...

SKRITCH

There it was again, but this time the butter knife seemed to have a bit of a point to it. Still, nothing much, I can and have dealt with worse, so I waited for the meds to kick in and continued to go on with my bad self. Then ...

SKRITCH

The knife seemed to have not only a point, but a bit of a serration to the blade. Okay, one of THOSE nights, I took a highly unauthorized additional pill and went back to the WMBS business at hand ...

SKRITCH SKRITCH SKRITCH

The orchestra, having finished tuning up, launched right into the ol' 1812, and I shot out of my chair. Now it was not one ~~butter~~ steak knife in the back, it was THREE, no make that FOUR, and they were moving around like Jack the Ripper moonlighting in a Benihana, okay Sluggo, walk it off ...

SKRITCH

I didn't even wait to say goodnight, I just closed Firefox and headed to bed, but just before I got there ...

one last SKRITCH

which pretty much brought me to my knees. I managed to get to bed, where I stayed for about ten hours, and I've been more or less incapacitated ever since. It hurts, and almost worse than the pain is the fact that the INSIDE of my SPINE actually ITCHES. Frankly, this is beginning to scare me a little bit, no MORE than a little bit, it scares me a LOT, I can see where this is all leading and I don't like it one bit, no Sir. My hands go numb, my legs go numb, I think I'm going to end up paralyzed or dead from the neck down or something like that, which would be a blessing at this point ("dead from the neck down" meaning no pain; you can't feel anything) except for the fact that with my luck, I would have all pain and no mobility.

I was going to write a lot more about this but I can't; partly because I cannot sit at a computer for more than five minutes, partly because my fingers aren't cooperating, but mostly because this new level of pain seems to have wiped my brain clean and I cannot WRITE about ANYTHING ANY MORE.

Anyhow, that's ol' Sluggo's current state; full of SKRITCH (it's SKRITCHing yet); I don't know how long it's going to last or how much worse it's going to get (though I suspect it's going to get plenty worse). I am resigned to just being a dumb hurting lump of shit until things level off or I kick the bucket, whichever comes first.

SKRITCH.

Straight outta "O Brother..."

Thu, 05 Jun 2008 16:26:47 GMT

One of my many interests, and one I never have enough time to pursue, is photo restoration. Here's an example. After my Granny died, I was given a huge box of her personal effects. The rationale behind this gift is still a mystery; there was a lot of feudin', fussin' and fightin' at the time between my dad, my aunt, and my uncle, and I think the box of stuff was meant for my aunt -- Gramps gave it to me to piss her off, perhaps. At any rate, I had this large heap of things -- dolls, knickknacks, lace, Granny's Bible -- and, above all, PICTURES in lavish profusion.

Family feuding aside, this was the best course of action, giving me those photos -- because I have a) a computer and a scanner, b) a love of photo restoration, and c) the ability to leap tall buildings in a single ... no, scratch that last part. But I am really not too bad at photo restoration. Just give me a lot of time, a lot of coffee, and the appropriate programs, and I can go to work like a mofo. I've worked with cracked Polaroids, smudgy cartes de visite, flaky daguerrotypes, 30's portraits covered with silvery bloom, even glass negatives. And I've carried this love of restoration into free work for other people, cleaning and rejuvenating their old pix of Great-Aunt Slappy and Uncle Hambone with the greatest of ease. I do it for the kicks, man.

But back to this example. I was slogging (or Sluggoing) today through my files, trying to find some lost pictures of quilts so I can update my quilt gallery page, and I stumbled across this old photo of the Lewis family. No year, but judging from the people (present and missing) and their youthful status, I'm guessing it's at some point in the early 1930s. Nor do I know where the photo was taken, other than Texas; it may be in Henderson County (Athens) or in Navarro County (Corsicana). It's my Granny, Marcine Lewis, and her family. She had ten brothers and sisters, including a twin (Maxcene or Maxine). I can't identify many of these people yet, though I do recognize Granny, and Aunt Ella Mae, and Aunt Frieda.

I will start by showing the photo in its original glory, and subsequent entries will mark the process of restoration. I work on this photo as I work on all large restoration jobs, in fits and starts, as the mood takes me. It also depends on how my eyes and temper hold out. I tend to get the fidgets doing this work, and I lose my freshness of eye after about an hour, so it's best to do it in stages.

As you can see, this photo is in deplorable shape, and it was worse before I scanned it because there were many layers of yellowed Scotch tape holding it together, on a backing of ancient cardboard, and the whole thing assembled with layers of equally ancient electrical tape which had been carefully trimmed to approximate a sort of mat around the image. I did work on this photo for quite some time and I saved it as this -- I should have just saved it in its original state because then you'd see even more damage, plus the attempt at colorization with what appears to be a child's paintbox. I'll look through some boxes when I get a chance. Anyway, this is the result of an hour or two of work.

The next entry will show this same photo as of today, and ... well, you get the idea. I may also include a potted family history with subsequent entries. But I especially like the young lad standing in the front. I think that may be my Uncle Billy Earl Lewis, though I'm not sure. I need to look through my family records and make my own guesses, because there's really nobody I can ask. Unfortunately, most of these people are dead and the few remaining survivors, such as my Uncle Sonny, are racked with Alzheimer's, this being a family specialty since we have four documented generations with the disorder.

The one person I might be able to ask, I won't, because she's a cousin who wrote me for information and then rewarded my generosity by stealing my entire family tree research and posting it online as her own work, changing and deleting any information that did not meet with her approval. So to hell with her, and the horse she rode in under. Screw you, Lyndie.

Enjoy. These are great people and I'm thrilled to introduce them to you.

I'm here, where's the liquor cabinet?

Wed, 28 May 2008 21:51:45 GMT

Okayokayokay, so I have joined LJ, been chivvied and cajoled and blandished into LJ by good friends and evil family members alike. It behooves me to inform you: I've always sworn to NOT do LJ because ... well, let's just say that the battlefield is scattered with the barren Sluggo husks of accounts at Vox, Tribe, Blogspot, Free Association, and the like. Hell, even Happy Woman has some of my old things. And, though I start off with the Best Intentions in the World (the ones that supposedly pave the road to Hell), I tend to let these things dwindle and then rot on the vine, and the Internet is chockablock with my abortive attempts at fraternization and communication. Let's face it: I am no great shakes at rubbing elbows (or, for that matter, anything else). However, this LJ account has been started with one goal in mind, and that goal is Branson Fellini, so here goes ....

GERONIMO!!!!

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

*thunk*

You know, this is already way too complicated for me and I don't think I like it. I may go back to my usual mode of communication: beating on the ground with a large stick until I draw a good-sized crowd of confused neighbors. Hey, it works for me.

There once was a man from Nantucket

Wed, 28 May 2008 20:53:15 GMT

Who put all his posts in a bucket.