Fearless Taco Pizza (& Loathing)
Yesterday, Trish got caught up on the laundry -- an all day affair. I let her sleep in until 8:30, & by the time she was done with her breakfast of cereal & shower, it was getting late to go over to the Layout for lunch, not that there's anything to do down there, anyway. Since she expected to go driving with Car-girl (she of the Carma Bear), she decided to start cleaning. However, Car-girl called when Trish was still in the bathroom, saying she had too much homework. Next time, I want to stress to Car-girl that Trish's biggest problem isn't driving; she knows how to do that; it's parking, especially after the incident in the lot behind the Layout.
So Trish cleaned the kitchen in the morning, then we ate at the Soup Kitchen. They had some real bland-tasting mac-&-cheese with hamburger in it, as well as some bean soup.
Once we were down in the basement, we made watching movies while doing clothes an all day affair. The new washing machine is real atomic; it holds twice as many clothes as the old one, so you can do a full load & 2 dryer loads. The only time that we came back upstairs was to order a medium pan pizza with Canadian bacon. We gave the driver a fairly hefty tip, mostly 'cause I know from Trish working there that they don't pay their help highly.
Then I called Jerome, to ask (beg, plead) to see if there's any way he'll ever write an SF story in collaboration with me. He's an absolutely brilliant writer, but even though he named his cat Frodo, he declared that he's too busy.
We also talked about Biggolith. Apparently, Dave called & gave him his phone number, which he refused to give out to John -- even if Mother dies -- & me, mostly 'cause his wife can't stand us taking "addictive experimental antidepressants" like some fucking Scientologist. SCIENTOLOGY KILLS! Jerry was prepared to give me Dave's phone number, but held off when he found out Dave refused to tell it to me a year ago. He said that David is "growing beans" & that they also have a lot of trees & are growing fruit. However, when I attempted to explain that Karen also suffers from a mental illness, he defended her paranoia, though I think I did get the point across that she's grandiose, like with the anime comic book that she did & then conveniently lost the art.
Then I called Fearless Taco, which was an ordeal -- he's still an expert on everything, & I fail to see how he got a PhD, as he won't listen to anyone. However, I stood up to him on everything, save for him falsely trying to maintain that Jerry's eye problems are as bad as mine. Screw that; I'm legally blind. But I did stand up on the issue that Dave "will grow out of it," by telling him that you don't outgrow a mental illness the way you don't outgrow diabetes or cancer. He also claimed that David might forget about the government conspiracies if he has this subsistence-level farming to do to "keep him busy". My response was that farming is not psychotherapy. If that were true, we wouldn't have hospitals, we'd just make the mentally ill go pick fruit. What's really difficult now -- as with Jerome -- is to convince the family that Karen has a problem. I keep picking lousy examples of her paranoia, but the grandiosity is another thing.
I'm not calling John back for a bit, but I do plan to call Joe today. It's hard to convince Joe that David has a mental illness, not even after he fled the wiretaps by moving to the middle of nowhere with a skinny dog who will divorce him once the money runs out. Oh well, we can at least talk about computers.
So Trish cleaned the kitchen in the morning, then we ate at the Soup Kitchen. They had some real bland-tasting mac-&-cheese with hamburger in it, as well as some bean soup.
Once we were down in the basement, we made watching movies while doing clothes an all day affair. The new washing machine is real atomic; it holds twice as many clothes as the old one, so you can do a full load & 2 dryer loads. The only time that we came back upstairs was to order a medium pan pizza with Canadian bacon. We gave the driver a fairly hefty tip, mostly 'cause I know from Trish working there that they don't pay their help highly.
Then I called Jerome, to ask (beg, plead) to see if there's any way he'll ever write an SF story in collaboration with me. He's an absolutely brilliant writer, but even though he named his cat Frodo, he declared that he's too busy.
We also talked about Biggolith. Apparently, Dave called & gave him his phone number, which he refused to give out to John -- even if Mother dies -- & me, mostly 'cause his wife can't stand us taking "addictive experimental antidepressants" like some fucking Scientologist. SCIENTOLOGY KILLS! Jerry was prepared to give me Dave's phone number, but held off when he found out Dave refused to tell it to me a year ago. He said that David is "growing beans" & that they also have a lot of trees & are growing fruit. However, when I attempted to explain that Karen also suffers from a mental illness, he defended her paranoia, though I think I did get the point across that she's grandiose, like with the anime comic book that she did & then conveniently lost the art.
Then I called Fearless Taco, which was an ordeal -- he's still an expert on everything, & I fail to see how he got a PhD, as he won't listen to anyone. However, I stood up to him on everything, save for him falsely trying to maintain that Jerry's eye problems are as bad as mine. Screw that; I'm legally blind. But I did stand up on the issue that Dave "will grow out of it," by telling him that you don't outgrow a mental illness the way you don't outgrow diabetes or cancer. He also claimed that David might forget about the government conspiracies if he has this subsistence-level farming to do to "keep him busy". My response was that farming is not psychotherapy. If that were true, we wouldn't have hospitals, we'd just make the mentally ill go pick fruit. What's really difficult now -- as with Jerome -- is to convince the family that Karen has a problem. I keep picking lousy examples of her paranoia, but the grandiosity is another thing.
I'm not calling John back for a bit, but I do plan to call Joe today. It's hard to convince Joe that David has a mental illness, not even after he fled the wiretaps by moving to the middle of nowhere with a skinny dog who will divorce him once the money runs out. Oh well, we can at least talk about computers.
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