That drunkard who assumes control of my brother each evening was unable to retain grasp upon consciousness last evening, so I quickly turned off the T9 Android 8.1 TV Box and the show that I had tuned in through the device; and I came upstairs here to my computer after switching the T.V. over to the only news channel that we can receive on its basic cable package.
My brother doesn't know how to operate the Android TV Box, so basic cable and its very limited programming offerings would be his lot once he revived.
I was in bed by 10:25 p.m., if I am remembering correctly, but I had a very poor night's sleep. I don't think it was yet 2:00 a.m. when I got up just to turn my computer back on and log into it so that it would be all loaded and set for later use.
I returned to bed to allow that to happen.
Perhaps it was 2:30 a.m. or soon thereafter when I rose again to get at the day's content assignment for the post I have underway at one of my six hosted websites. However, that work was not to be commenced ─ my computer had frozen before fully loading and warming up. According to its clock, this happened at 2:08 a.m.
So I had to force a restart, and then I again returned to bed to give it time to load and warm up. Fortunately, when I checked it again around 3:00 a.m., the machine was functioning, and I was free to use it.
My youngest stepson was still up. He was not to retire until after daybreak ─ I don't know what's up with the 21-year-old. It's not as if he is doing anything of value with the time (like I feel myself bound to be attempting to do at the cost of proper sleep each night).
Somehow, though, he seems able to sleep all the bloody day long when he does not have to rise to go to work ─ he does have a job requiring shift work, so he often has to get up during the day and head off to work early or late in the afternoon, or even deep into the evening.
Luckily for him, though, we live about a mile from where he works, so it is a relatively easy walk to get there.
Anyway, I accomplished the work on that website post that I was obliged to do today; and then no later than 8:00 a.m. I was back to bed for another couple of hours.
When next I rose, my younger brother was downstairs at the dining table enjoying coffee and reading the Saturday morning edition of the Vancouver Sun that I subscribe to.
I went downstairs and fixed up my day's second hot caffeinated beverage and then came back upstairs here to my computer to do a few things.
Later in the morning, my brother came upstairs to shut himself up in his bedroom as he sought some further bedrest ─ after all, there is always plenty of drinking ahead of him beginning in the latter afternoon somewhere each day, so he needs to build up his reserves to best manage it.
It has been many days since we have had exclusively sunny weather, but such weather returned today. I wanted to sit outside in the backyard and bask in the sunshine, but first I had a little exercise with my 43½-pound dumbbell.
It was 12:47 p.m. by the time I was out in the backyard, slouched low in a lawn- or deck-chair with my bared feet on the ground, and the rest of me attired just in a pair of cutoffs.
Initially it was quite cool out there, but I acclimatized as I faced directly into the Sun and began just over 40 minutes bathing in the sunshine.
At 1:18 p.m. I had just checked the time and resumed my final 10 minutes of sunning when I heard my brother coming out into the yard.
He just can't seem to allow me peace.
He got busy with a big can of weedkiller and set to poisoning any dandelions he could find. As yet we had not spoken a word to one another this day, but he broke the silence, grousing because I had several days ago taken two organic oranges that had begun to mould, and left them to decompose in a small plot of garden just beneath the kitchen and living room windows.
According to him, doing that was just courting visitation from rats.
I silently finished my sunning, and then rose to come back into the house to change back into my regular clothes. My brother had gone to the front yard by then.
I heard him come back into the house and speak to my eldest stepson, probably instructing him to mow the lawn now that we finally have some good weather ─ that job has not been taken on thus far this year.
And then my brother left ─ it wasn't yet 1:45 p.m., I seem to recall.
He will likely bother to go to some park and get in a good walk, but doing so is not going to curb the monstrous pear-shape he is developing. I know that he is ashamed ─ he used to sun himself out on the backyard sundeck, but he hasn't done so for a couple of years now. I suspect that it is because he is too humiliated to bare his bloated torso for the rest of us to bear witness to.
The amount of beer he swills during the latter half of his day is only robbing him of the value of what little testosterone his body is still able to produce ─ he is in essence effeminizing his body to that of a corpulent older woman.
I am assuming that he must be consuming enough phytoestrogens to bring this on, for he drinks so much that it is a toss-up on any given evening if he is going to surrender consciousness for some period of time after he is home from his drinking ─ an activity he continues with once he is here at home.
Make no mistake ─ I love my younger brother. But I utterly detest the malignant drunkard that he is so eager to turn himself into every bloody day.
That hateful, foul persona is not my brother, and I regret that such a distortion was ever birthed within him.
When we were younger, I enjoyed drinking with him.
That is no longer possible. His brain can no longer bear the abuse he imposes upon it with his heavy drinking, and his mind then becomes a mutation of what it should be.
It is the rarest thing to find good humour in him anymore when he drinks.
My hope for this evening is that he is able to get along with his girlfriend Bev and end up spending the night at her home. More often than not, he will do just that with his Saturdays; but sometimes the two of them become intolerable to one another and he brings his drunken malevolence home to me.
My eldest stepson did finally mow the lawn, but not until well after 5:00 p.m. I took these six candid photos ─ the first three from the dining room window around 5:22 p.m., and the last three from the kitchen window at 5:23 p.m.:
The 24-year-old has become very brawny ─ the photos probably do not translate that as clearly as would be the case to see him in person.
His mother ─ my wife ─ is presently over in Thailand to visit her mother, and almost daily posts photos to her Facebook account.
On Thursday evening (April 18, 2019) ─ that is Thailand time, by the way ─ she was evidently out partying with three friends at some sort of mostly outdoor venue that was featuring a one-man band.
The entertainer was allowing any of the few patrons to join him to display their vocal skills ─ the whole set-up looked to be along the lines of karaoke.
Between 10:13 p.m. and 11:54 p.m., five separate video clips were posted to my wife's Facebook account. I am supposing that the video was posted live.
I downloaded all five of the video clips and had them spliced together from the earlier to the latest segment.
Unfortunately, very much of the footage was recorded in such fashion that everything is sideways ─ my wife kept holding her iPhone X (if she was indeed using her own phone) vertically instead of horizontally.
I know that a video can be corrected if it was filmed sideways in its entirety, but tragically that was not the case here ─ the video clips were never entirely filmed sideways, and so the content was mixed in that regard.
I know of no means of rectifying such a mistake.
I am going to post the video ─ I think with the five segments together it is about 20 minutes in duration. But it is exclusively in Isaan Thai, so no one who does not understand Thai will be able to fathom the conversations.
Also, note that the frizzy-haired woman in the video ─ who seems to have on an apron or maybe even a pair of overalls ─ is someone my wife has always referred to as being her "sister-cousin."
As for the two gents, both are Gay. The one in the tight skirt goes by the nickname Jack or Jak, and my wife has probably known him since they were schoolkids.
My wife actually has a number of Gay male friends ─ another from her school years goes by the nickname Daisha, and I very much like the chap. In fact, I would rather hang out with him than visit my wife's family home and have to be around her relatives ─ although I do very much like her only living brother Santi.
However, Santi doesn't live in the family village anymore, so I wouldn't see much of him if I had to visit the family home where my wife's mother lives (my wife's father died when my wife was ─ at very most ─ a teenager).
So be forewarned ─ there is nothing but Isaan Thai being spoken, drunken cavorting is evident throughout, and much of the video will play sideways. It most likely will be a very boring 20 minutes for you:
Socializing is very important to our physical as well as our mental health ─ and especially as we grow older.
I miss having a friend to hang out and enjoy some drinks with. My last friend living near me died around the start of 2011, so ever since I have only had my drunken younger brother to socialize with ─ whether I want the company or not.
My two stepsons and I don't interact much; and their mother and I have not been close and intimate for over six years.
But enough prelude ─ I bring up the topic merely to introduce this excellent recent article:
DrMicozzi.com
I am a 69-year-old who does not drive, and who is so deep into financial debt as a result of his wife's extravagances, that I am a virtual prisoner of my own home.
None of what that article says bodes at all well for me.
One other article I want to link to concerns a topic I included information on just three days ago ─ the health benefits of amla, or the Indian gooseberry (Phyllanthus emblica).
Refer to that post for the articles I had linked to ─ I just want to link to this one further article because it suggests far more helpful ways of locating the actual fruit than I can remember any of the other articles doing:
HSIonline.com
I have a couple of South Asian markets about four blocks from where I live, so I will try to remember to see if any is offered ─ fresh, frozen, or even dried or powdered.
At the bottom of this post are the results of an Amazon search I made using the term "Amalaki" that the article suggested. Evidently the term "Amlaki" is almost just as common a variant.
It is approaching 8:00 p.m. ─ I want to finish and publish this post in case my younger brother shows up, so I shall say nothing more.
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