Today is my last day on Instagram; I’ve had that account for, at least, sixteen years. I’m deleting it for reasons, only one of which I’ll mention — I’ve been meaning to dump my social media for a while. I cut it back about a year ago (I think), but it’s time for it to go altogether. I will keep the Coroner book IG open for a bit longer while I (hopefully) collect emails for a newsletter (of sorts). Otherwise, no more socializing in that weird, unnatural, entirely-too-addictive manner.
I spent today driving around my new environs, for the most part. Hubs had company, so I took the opportunity to have the car all to myself and…I went to Barnes & Noble.
Article, and handy-dandy list of every drop of vinyl released by/with Peter Murphy. Yes, please.
I had no idea this was a thing that existed. Apparently, out in 2022, which gives you some indication as to how out of touch I am. I’ll blame social media, because why not. I’ll blame it for everything.
I lazed around the cafe, flipping through magazines and having a coffee. Looked at all the bookish crap they sell — it’s crap, but I want a quarter of it, and I don’t need it. (No, I don’t need the big moon-shaped eraser. I don’t.)
But, I also had a mission. I need a decent messenger bag that holds my shit and has all the pockets and bits that I want. God help me, I went to the mall. The Walt Whitman Mall, which is hilarious. It’s on Walt Whitman Road (slightly less hilarious, but still wtf). All so named because Walt Whitman’s birthplace is there, right next to the Barnes & Noble. Walt, I’m sure, would be pumped about the four-lane road and the mall named after him.
Anyway, I went to the mall. I am not a mall person. So, question: Why are they always so goddamn hot? I entered through the Macy’s, looked around, and everything available sucked. I didn’t look in the women’s section, because there is never anything there for me. And the men’s…the closest thing that I still hated was just under $600. Everything else was a backpack.
Walked through the mall. From one end to the other, and on the other end was a Bloomingdales, which basically had everything that Macy’s had. There was nothing remotely enticing between the two. I walked back to the Macy’s, through the Macy’s, and to my car. Failure.
I went to Staples. Failure. I went to Target.
Failure…but I did scan the ‘Weens area and bought little ceramic ghosts and skeletons (which I needed as badly as I need the big moon-shaped eraser). I also bought some household crap that we needed.
Finally, I gave up on the bag. I realize that I have no idea where to shop for anything that’s not boring household crap, and I barely know where to shop for that. I find that when I enter a brick and mortar store, I rarely find what I need, and almost never what I want (unless, apparently, it’s a bookstore and I’m going in with nothing in particular in mind). My quest to cut back on the online shopping is, at this time in 2025, probably a pipe dream, which is a bummer.
I’ll probably have to buy this fucking bag online. *sigh*
Anyway, my plan was to then drive into Huntington Village to hit the public library. I was going to sit and read a friend’s writing, check out — and possibly sit down with — some writing reference books, but, unlike the time a couple of weeks ago when Hubs and I went, it was not quiet. So, my brain being the chaos machine that it is, there was no way I was reading anything. Talking…people talking in their normal volume voices, expect this one guy who was, of course, loud-talking on his phone. No one stopped him.
I walked up and down the rows, having realized I’d completely forgotten how to use a card catalog system; it’s literally been decades. So, I just looked. Walked, looked. At some point, amidst the talking, I ceased to even see what I was looking at and found myself just staring at a shelf of books — I don’t even know what was there — brain completely empty.
I did not find the writing reference section. I didn’t really find anything. And the talking, at the library, continued. So, I left. I ordered a salad, went home, fed the cats.
That was my day. My exciting day adventuring on my own.
Yeah, hi, if you know me, in real life or from Instagram…yeah, this is my blog. It’s basically going to be this. Sometimes, I might have something interesting to say, but, boy-howdy, not today. So, now I’m going to get into my jammers, eat a gummy, and maybe dip into the Graffin book until one eye transverses into the opposite socket to join the other (my cue to turn off the light), and I will sleep the sleep of the utterly bored.
The alternative is to turn on the news, and fuck that.
Lee Harper Oswald 