Night Is All Around Me

The wine glass is filled (again) and I can still type, so let's talk about Tina Turner.

I was surf'n a little bit and came across PBS, where a voice over was narrating while images of what I thought were southern Baptist type churches were passing by. Turns out they were the Tennessee churches that Tina Turner attended and sang at when she was a child and that she was doing the speaking in the voice over. She talked about her childhood some and then it cut to her in concert and she was singing 'What's Love Got To Do with It'.
I'll be upfront and say I'ma kinda fan of Tina Turner. I don't dislike her in any way. I don't go out of my way to here her, still, I have a tremendous amount of respect for her and her music, but I gotta tell ya, she may be 66, but she is gorgeous. I'm watching her sing, not knowing exactly how old she was until I looked it up later, but I was thinking, My Gawd, she is beautiful and so exciting in the enrgized way. I swear I hope I look that good at her age (won't happen). One of the things about her is that to me musically, she is part of the group that epitomized the '80's. In her interview part of the program she said something so profound. She said that she never thinks about her music delivering a message, just that it makes you feel a certain way. And I thought that that is so right. It's never going to mean the same thing to me hearing it as it was to her writing it, or mean the same thing to another person hearing it. But it can make us all feel a certain way.
(Brief pause for the immediate consumption of chicken quesadilla Lean Pockets (the downside of alcohol consumption - hunger) and a wine refill. Yes, I'm feeling much better now.)
Whoa, I've lost my train of thought. God, I love wine,and Screwdrivers, and Gin & Tonics, and Vodka Sours. And for all those left out, oh, oh! Daiquiries with 151, I really love you the best.
Of late I've been mentally lazy, saying to myself, "I wish I was writing...", which of couse isn't true because if I really did wish to write, well, duh, I would fucking write.
There are so many simple truths. Eat less, exercise more. That's true, because I'm doing it. Yes, I'm eating less. I'm exercising more, and I'm becoming smaller! My six pack is still a case (or two), but it's no longer a keg (thankyouverymuch) and I'm donning clothes that people would actually wear other than cleaning the house.
It frightens me to think that I must have been well over three hundred when I decided that "I really don't want to die a big fat guy". That's absolutely true, and I thinkl that constantly. It is what motivates me. It keeps me going through six miles of walking running a day. It is what motivates me to not eat like an idiot, which I've done for an embarrassing amount of years. I hate not getting second looks.
Oh. oh....boring! More wine, Garcon!
I have been drinkinking tremendousa amounts of water which I have elected to substitute with wine this day. Yeah for me! Right now, my wine is a meal in a glass!
I'm thinking I should post soon before degrading to far into unreadability, but then really how far is that from where I be now. (goin' to the kitchen to get more vino!)
Apparently, I say apparently, I miscalculated and this will be as much (well, I squoze (real word?) oout a half a glass from a now complete-telly dead bottle) (now, like a pirate)and there be fresh bottle on deck, aaaarrgghh! (Now back to regular syntax) So this is as good as it gets (hmmmm, note to self: mention to Jim Brooks, would make killer title for movie. Probably Oscar worthy)
Oh horrors, I'm probably gonna post this without any editing. Y'know what, fuck, I don't care, as far as I know i didn't whine too much, I do wish I'd been clever (er?). But as it stands I don't think I offenddeed anyone, but I do miss hearing from some people, and actually you don't know who you are because you don't stop by anymore.
Oh CHRIST! I jsut said I didn't whine! Pussy, I'm just a super Big Pussy (who, now there's imagery that I don't htink I'd like to wake up to).
No. no, I'm doing takebacks,a dn the last whiney thing wrote is stricken. (and I can't believe I worded that grammatically correct).
My wine is nearing the end of the glass, or the bottom rather, and like the ghost of Christmas yet to come...hmmm, I don't know what I was going to write there but it really was pulitzer.
This is your blog. This your blog on alcohol.
They keep begging me at work to get a blog started about work. This without any knowledge that I have been blogging for over a year, because as well you know blogging is personal.
I was just thinking I pity you poor people trying to decipher this, as it's 100% crystal in my head, but I'm all alone in my head at the moment, which is what alcohol does.
Ah, the last swig has been downed and I'm off to reminisce on young ladies I knew in a simpler time when the summer were warm, not hot like they are now. and it was fashionable to be charming. I do miss those days, and I'm sorry if that's whining. I really don't care.
Good night.