rajafacesbothways

What Do (Older) Men Want

Every weekday morning a group of 5-7 men meet for breakfast at Favas. Occasionally they are joined by an ex-military woman who could wipe them out if she chose. They eat "the usual" and repeat stories as older men do at eateries in every small town in America. Mostly they have lived here all of their lives--one served in Okinawa during WW2. Ten years ago his daughter gave him a microwave oven, his son an electric stove. Neither item has ever been used. He covered the stove's top with a piece of plywood and stacks canned peaches on it for emergency use.

I heard them lamenting that they have no woman to cook for them except Jeannie, Favas' owner. May I recommend any desperate woman who complains that she doesn't have a man to simply move here? Just whip up a batch of biscuits and sausage gravy.  She'd have them by the --ummmm--jaws in no time.

It seems true. Guys are just bears with furniture.

Click! Click! Ka-ching! Ka-ching!

Have sold 7 photos in the past few days, which is very rewarding. Somewhat financially, mostly reassuring. Artists must create in a vacuum anticipating no payoff except personal satisfaction; it's reassuring to have others occasionally support one's habit. Of all the arts, I think writing is the most demanding and poetry is the most difficult of all.

Selling a photo, painting, pottery is something tangible, but very selective words on a piece of paper that may not even rhyme! Whew!

Even Snow White Got Old

Our dance group performed for the Lexington Senior Citizens the other afternoon. Half way through the performance I realized-- I could be sitting in the audience! I just never think of age; although the many I knew in the two previous generations are all gone, except for a 97-year-old aunt. And friends I haven't seen for years mostly look really old! Maybe it's time I get the message.

But why? Except for a few creaks here and there, I think of myself about 15 years younger than I am. And tho I'm moving up in the check-out line of life, everyone is actually in it somewhere. I've decided that age is something that happens to you when you forget to look in the mirror. 

So I guess it's good that I have to stand on my tippy toes to see myself in the bathroom mirror. Even tho the only person I'm probably fooling is myself.

Putting Up New Fronts

New business in town!

The bookstore (BWAP) has been replaced by a computer repair shop and a woman's dress shop,"Stepping Out Boutique." And today a Walgreens opened across from CVS. I was there to get some photo prints made. They called my name over the very loud speaker and announced to the world my photos were ready.

Made me wish I had ordered birth control pills. An announcement like that could have enhanced my reputation here.

Recent Events

Things I had never done until I moved here---all in the past couple of weeks:

1.  Gone to a El Dias de los Muertes celebration--abounding with great Mexican food and skeletons.

2.  Dropped out of college. The professor was spoon feeding anthropology to disinterested students. Boring.

3.  Refused to tell my age when asked separately by 5 different people. Why do they even care??

4.  Gone to the Univ Kentucky dental college for my check-up and cleaning. Students do the work overseen by a reputable dentist and staff.  Twice the attention for one-third of the price.

Not Candy Kisses

In tomorrow's elections, I'm appalled to see how anal the far right is about gay marriage--actually gays in general. However I have known friends who share this kind of intolerance.

I once sat next to a young man on a plane who confessed he was gay and had decided to inform his parents of this when he arrived in San Diego. When I departed the plane in Chicago, he stood and gave me a kiss on the cheek. A woman observing this gushed, "You are such an all American boy!" (he winked at me)

A chauvinistic neighbor who got me from the airport was a man with strong prejudices. When he dropped me off at home, he also kissed me on the same cheek.

It was with great fun I announced, "Wow! You're the second man who kissed me there today. Only the last one was gay!"

Wanna' bet he went home and washed his mouth with soap?!

Mayhem on Main Steet

Friday afternoon brought out hundreds of kids in costumes, going from merchant to merchant, collecting a huge stash of sugary treats. The women at the CofC dressed appropriately as chamber maids.  Although I think it's great fun, I no longer appear in costume anymore. Dressed as "Captain Underpants" when I worked  one Halloween at the Bookstore continues to be discussed, although it occurred 7 years ago.

Once you've established a reputation in a small town, no other effort is required.

Back To Keenland

Returned to Keenland track yesterday, not to photograph but to get rich by betting on the winners. Should have brought my camera instead. Actually after 5 races, I ended up only $1 in the hole for the day. Beautiful weather, magnificent horses, and a great place for people watching. There are only 15 days of fall racing; another 15 days occur in the spring. In addition, the track is used year around for training and holds several auctions of thoroughbreds.

Blame It On the Zebra

Living alone I have had no one to blame for anything that goes wrong here except myself. Until now!

In the novel The Art of Racing in the Rain, Enzo, the dog placed all blames on a stuffed zebra. Therefore during my sister's visit we began condemning an imaginary zebra for anything out of order. And last week, she sent me this zebra as a gift.

Enzo was right! The Zebra has hid my keys twice, ate an important list, Spilled my coffee, froze my computer and keeps scattering my shoes from room to room.

He lives on my computer table and watches with a look of total innocence. Cute lil' fukker, ain't he!

Rhino Ranch--a Review

Larry McMurtry's 30th novel, Rhino Ranch (2009) revisits Duane Moore, whom readers first met in The Last Picture Show (1966).  This loosely structured novel inserts a billionaire Texas woman, K.K. Slater, into his life in Thailia, TX as she sets up a preserve to protect African rhinos. Unfortunately once a strong fence is built and it is discovered they don't like hay, the story becomes weak on rhinos and focuses on how Duane deals with reaching 70 and being alone in the world--i.e.Texas.

This petered out aging oil man deals with age by wandering about, surrounding himself with horny, mostly weird female companions,and dumb ole Texas boys who kill time by drinking whiskey and fishing. And while Duane seems to be searching for a final purpose, McMurtry seems to be searching for a plot. 

Maybe if I was a big Larry McMurtry fan who read all of his writing, this one would have more appeal. I did appreciate some of his earlier books. Rhino Ranch only reinforces my belief that if Texas seceded from the U.S., as some of that state's politicians keep threatening, it would be no great loss to the country.