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I thought I lived in a country that loved stuff like what they're doing in Venezuela. I am positive that we would have been cheering them on if this were, say, twenty years ago. Our government wouldn't have been nice about it... covertly... but we'd've all been cheering for them. I'm certain of this.
I'm here trying to haul myself up out of the soup... in my usual state of disarray... and decided to snap a picture of it for you. The camera in this puppy is no friend to the human eye. I can tell because my great grampa's barber shop mirror is right here next to me and the news is always worse outta the camera than in the mirror... and it isn't the old camera flip thing either, because the cameras in Macs don't flip so that people can use them as mirrors if they want.
I worry that my teacher will see these atrocities, not knowing that the images aren't flipped. This is crucial because there is a way to tell the state of someone's enlightening by looking at a certain eye. It only works in pictures, and if one looks at an unflipped picture thinking it's like a camera picture, one is liable to get the wrong idea. Of course, I don't think my teacher needs pictures to tell anyway, but I worry about shit like that.
Where was I? Oh. I love how Apple brags about the advanced cameras they put in their new machines... acknowledgement that they were too cheap in this department before... the kind of before that includes my machine... and, sheesh, it just so seriously sucks. It can't handle lighting conditions for shit, and it can't do color for shit either. And, at least half the time there is a wild array of different color spots in the shaded areas of the images, and it might be fine for fucking around with different image editing programs, but it really sucks if you want to take a picture that really looks like you.
I can only go for the impressionistic angle... or... the surrealistic one....
I'm wearing my favorite sweater. That's all I'm wearing. It's an extremely light sweater so it really isn't an offense to summertude at all... especially if I'm not wearing anything else. This sort of thing only becomes sort of problematic when the UPS kid shows up, but, strictly speaking, everything is covered, and I'm pretty sure he entertains no notions I'm trying to seduce him, so, heck, why worry? I usually hear him before he gets right to the door and yell out a warning anyway. He closes his eyes... bless his heart.
I put my pants on to go out and water the garden. Neighbor Isla was out walking her dog. This means a good yammer about nothing. I learn the same things about her every time. Her husband is 83 and she is 72. They have enough money to live comfortably the rest of their lives. And I'm still beautiful.... I can't really gripe about the vacancy of communication when she's never hollow enough to forget to exclaim about my babetude, now can I? I mean, yes, I oughta be able to, but, sheesh, she might even mean it and wouldn't it be bitchy of me to complain?
Fuck!
I just did the forgetting to put the tea pot on the blazing burner again.
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Whenever Isla and her wizened little yapper stroll up to me I know I am going to be frustrated by trying to make meaningful points to her that unerringly are thwarted by her taking the conversation all the way off track of whatever it is I'm trying to say. I think about this, and it isn't Isla. Almost everyone who ever talks to anyone else is just like this. I'm just not used to having to talk to people. I'm almost always somewhat prepared or it does not happen.
So, but, considering Isla, considering her to be about the norm, why is it any wonder to me that most of us are not on Venezuela's side anymore? Why can't I just accept that the actuality is actual and move forward armed by that?
Even in this dippy rendition, the proper eye shows the proper information, but yet there is that dragging between the actual and my acceptance of it. Maybe it is the camera....
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