I remembered something touching from that last visit to the dermatologist. I was reminded of it the other night, when I related it to someone else. One of the dermatologist’s assistants asked a bunch of routine questions. What medications do I take? For how long? Any allergies? She was typing away as I rattled off responses. Then she asked if I’d ever had any hospital stays. I said no. Then a second later I said, well, last summer I spent a couple of nights in the ER for alcohol abuse. She stopped typing, but the computer keyboard away, and said “We all have tough times.” She did not add that to my record. I said thank you, though it took a couple of days for the humanity of that gesture to sink in. I am glad I was at least able to say “thank you” but I wish I could have said more, so she knew that the gesture meant something to me. There really are nice people out there.
No booze last night = no sleep from ~midnight until 9:30, whence I fooled myself into thinking I had actually slept 5 or 6 hours Amtrak-style. That’s an old joke between me and a fat lady I sat next to on an Amtrak from Tampa to New York. She took up two seats. I think it’s safe to call her fat, even as I personally have no genuinely negative associations with the word.
At any rate, we joked that to get 8 hours of sleep in Amtrak coach class you had to budget 13 or 14 hours, if not more. That was a long time ago, though it does not feel like it. Anyway, to get 5 hours of sleep sans booze I need 6 or 9 hours, if not more, to spread it over the time. I swore I heard the doorbell buzzer ring, then I woke up enough to realize the buzzer sounded way more shrill than whatever noise just erupted in my head. It felt like little spindly pipes were getting in my way, then disappearing. My gut kept waking me up with nervous spasms. That happens most times I go without booze these days. Just as I’m about to disappear into sleep *ZAP* there’s a shock in my gut. It does not hurt, and it will probably not return tonight.
I might have had some mental after shocks from playing Dark Days, the game which seems to be a premiere title on the GearVR circuit at this moment. That game was really scaring the shit out of me. I did not realize until the game progressed last night that it was a horror genre game with ghouls and zombies — and very effective ghouls and zombies at that. I was screaming so loud you’d think I was writhing helplessly in a fucking nightmare from which I could not wake.
I am not much of a gamer, so maybe I am more prone to being impressionable, but this particular Dark Days game and the whole VR experience really has been amazing to me. I thought when I got the GearVR that I’d get tired of it but I don’t think a day has passed that I don’t put it on and at least watch some dorky promo piece for the NBA or whatever. Now I’m going to blow some pension windfall coin on a hand held game controller. Hah, that’s a joke. I don’t get the pension windfall until December, but the controller is only $60. I’m still good for that, especially without pissing money away on booze.
It has a ways to go, though. The VR, that is. The headset is still klunky, the phone overheats at times, and having to tether it to a smartphone is a setup that has to change, I think. I don’t know or care about the technical underpinnings of this shit. I just want to enjoy it. But I wonder if wireless VR simply does not have acceptable bandwidth at its disposal in most people’s home Wi-Fi. If my over the air television antenna can receive 1080i video then why can’t a properly antennaed headset? Probably an unavailable frequency. Or why not just dump an Android OS 1TB SSD hard drive into the headset and run it from there? Bah, what do I know. Not my department.
I walked up to The Sandwich King today, for to get Astoria’s most famous Italian Combo. The sammich maker commented on my Charlie Brown shirt, saying he watched all the movies. As with any new encounter with a new-to-me human being I felt nervous and could not really respond with my usual sparkling wit. But we shared a smile. And he cut the sammich into three pieces, unlike the last sammichsmith who made the same item for me months ago.
I saw a store called Goflsmith and realized you can add “-smith” to almost anything and make it a complimentary title for someone who knows the craft of the wuffix. A golfsmith knows golf. A booksmith, commonly kown as a librarian or bibliophile, knows books. I like the -smith appendage better than other things that attempt to give a respectful title to one fluent in their craft.
I remember a high school teacher saying that “virtuoso”, while commonly applied to musicians, can be aplied to any discipline. “You can be a baseball virtuoso.” But you know, I don’t know if I believe that. The craft of playing a violin in the virtuoso spirit is as a soloist, where others follow. A baseball virtuoso might show his stuff in the batting cage or at a home run derby, but as a team player i don’t think virtuosity is a part of it. Virtuosity is a singular, even solitary quality. Hmm, can’t believe I never thought about this until now. Imagine, a high school English teacher who was full of shit…
