Poor Quality

I am capable of warranting unforgivable self-disgust, and such was the case following last evening's post.

Instead of getting to bed by around 9:30 p.m., it was approaching 11 p.m. before I finally managed it ─ there was no way that I was likely to have a productive outing on my planned five-mile+ walk by rising at 1:30 a.m. to begin readying for it, so I set my cellphone alarm for 2:30 a.m.

Even in the time frame I allowed myself, I seemed to sleep recurringly, and not in one long bout once I first fell asleep. In fact, the point arrived when I became suspicious that surely my alarm had failed, for I felt myself to have improbably experienced more wakeful periods than seemed feasible.

So I made a time check for the first time: it was 2:25 a.m. My alarm was set to chime in five more minutes.

Why bother waiting? And so I rose.

I was already exceedingly crestfallen and angry with myself for my latter evening failure that was not all that far behind me, so imagine how I felt when I opened my bedroom door to use the bathroom and discovered it occupied ─ my youngest stepson was in residence. He and his brother both seem able to take a half hour just to have a bowel movement, so compound that with any shower also intended, and I had no hope of using the facilities nor even weighing in as I customarily do to learn my overall clothed body weight ahead of a walk.

It was 2:42 a.m. once I was outside the locked front door; I was going to chance urinating in the short alleyway beside our home that people all over the neighbourhood use as a shortcut from the cul-de-sac that we live in, to reach the main avenue that we do not otherwise connect to. Cars have no choice but to take the long and roundabout route, for the alleyway is blocked with a pair of cement barriers at each end; but pedestrians are not restricted in the least as long as they do not mind the alleyway's gloominess at night.

There is a 7-Eleven just two or three houses down the avenue from where the alleyway exits, so the alleyway has a fair amount of pedestrian traffic for that reason alone.

But I got my relief without interruption.

Due to how dispirited I was feeling, I considered bypassing the elementary school three or so blocks away, and maybe stopping there on the return for the usual exercise session I have in its playground. But at almost the last minute I realized that waiting might result in an accumulation of condensation or dew if the equipment was not already affected. Some metal posts at street side were still perfectly dry, so I decided that I should at least assess the state of the relatively dark playground.

Everything was dry, but there was the vaguest suggestion that a sheen might be developing on the jungle gym monkey bar that I was going to use for a pair of sets each of pull-ups and chin-ups.

So I doffed my jacket, and rallied as best I could. Somehow, I managed to hit my recent personal best, using heaving and lots of leg motion to manage it: 8-3-3-3-2-2. The final two sets were of course on a pair of gymnastics-style rings, and I held the very final pull-up on those for a hard-won 40-count.

Then it was over to the nearby cement ramp for 14 full-range decline push-ups.

I have to admit that my performance at the playground did much to elevate my downcast mood.

I cannot recollect anything of note concerning the rest of my walk, except to say that I made very good time because I was back home outside the locked front door at 4:42 a.m. ─ in other words, the excursion only took me a full two hours.

My wife's car was now parked in the driveway, so she had come home at some point after I had left and now no one but me was up from bed.

I was not to return to bed until maybe 6:10 a.m.

I believe that I next rose somewhere before 9 a.m. ─ before my younger brother had yet emerged from his bedroom, which he very soon was to do. I am never in a rush on Saturday mornings to have possession of the T.V. because I allow him time to enjoy the Saturday morning edition of the Vancouver Sun that I subscribe to.

I was still at my bedside computer when I heard my wife exit her bedroom to apparently being readying for another full workday at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time.

She was to very much surprise me ─ she actually came to me and presented $1,000 in cash. She had promised me the money after quite recently getting $1,200 from me. However, she had said that she would pay me at the end of September, so this was absolutely unexpected.

But I will not use the money, unless I absolutely have to. Rather, I will attempt to keep it on hand towards that day when she will surely be coming to me seeking some hundreds of dollars once again. Since I did not honestly expect that she would be paying me the $1,000 ─ her repayment promises are almost worthless ─ I was prepared to declare to her that she would not again be getting any further selfish cash grabs that leave me destitute for the month.

I only have pension income, and it is automatically deposited into my account towards the end of each month.

So this was a bit of a boost to my day, at least.

She left for work around 10:10 a.m.

My brother and I did not get together for any T.V. until maybe 10:30 a.m., for it was a few minutes past then that he turned it over to me so that I could put our Android TV Box into play.

I led us off with two of Dr. Makis's recent Substack videos.

The first was published two days ago, and was 23 minutes (23:21), despite its title: NEW PODCAST! "15 minutes with Dr.Makis" - Episode 027: Alberta Premier Danielle Smith takes a few hospitals away from AHS.

The second video was much shorter at 11 minutes (11:41) and had been published yesterday: NEW PODCAST! "15 minutes with Dr.Makis" - Episode 028: Health Canada orders all COVID-19 mRNA Vaccine vials DESTROYED!

After these, I chose to play the second half or so of a video my brother had walked out of a couple of days ago. At 33 minutes (33:57), it had been uploaded back on June 30, 2013, to YouTube's The Best Film Archives channel: Apartheid in South Africa - Documentary on Racism | Interviews with Black & Afrikaner Leaders | 1957.

This 1957 documentary explores South Africa's apartheid policy, focusing on issues such as race relations, political practices, and segregated dwellings. The film includes several interviews with black and Afrikaner political leaders.

The video description in full is far too long for reproduction here, so please refer to the video link to view the full description for yourself.

My brother walked out again late into this portion so that he could have some bed rest, citing that the documentary was "poor quality".

That is undeniable. The thumbnail overlaying the video that depicts a White man involved in a fist fight with Blacks was completely specious, for there was no such action or physical struggling. In fact, the video's full description concludes with this:

NOTE: THE VIDEO DOCUMENTS HISTORICAL EVENTS. SINCE IT WAS PRODUCED DECADES AGO, IT HAS HISTORICAL VALUES AND CAN BE CONSIDERED AS A VALUABLE HISTORICAL DOCUMENT. THE VIDEO HAS BEEN UPLOADED WITH EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES. ITS TOPIC IS REPRESENTED WITHIN HISTORICAL CONTEXT. THE VIDEO DOES NOT CONTAIN SENSITIVE SCENES AT ALL!

Especially note that final sentence.

There were lots of interview segments, and many black & white scenes of countryside and Black Africans going about their daily lives. There were also perplexing occasional segments of three or so head shots of different Blacks just saying, "Yes, boss."

No explanation for this at all.

As well, there were silent segments of scenes of people talking to one another, but no audio accompanied the scenes.

So either the documentary had been badly butchered at some point in the past, or else it was a poor compilation.

The White journalist doing the various interviews isn't even identified, except where one interviewee referred to him at least three times as something like, "Mr. McCutchen". And there are absolutely no opening nor closing credits to the documentary.

So yes, "poor quality" indeed.

This is my Sabbath fast, so there was no midday meal to delay my needed early afternoon nap. Still, it is possible that I failed to seek it until after 1 p.m., but I am unsure. I was to later become awake and felt that a fair amount of time must have passed, but I was still whelmed with the desire to sleep more. Nevertheless, I just lay upon my back, impressed by just how poorly slept I was feeling.

But the day had been sunny, and I wanted to do some sunning even though this is a bath day. Sunning days are nearly at an end for this year, so each one ought not to be wasted. I have experienced Septembers when there were no further sunning-worthy days whatsoever.

And so I rallied and rose, almost shocked to discover that it was already 2:48 p.m. ─ due to encroaching shadows from the house in our eastward backyard lawn, by 4 p.m. the space for sunning is considerably reduced.

I was to find the sky quite hazed ─ it was more a colourless grey than the blue I wanted. Even so, I managed to get outside and commenced a session that began at 2:59 p.m., and which ran through to 4:04 p.m. before I opted to call it quits and dress back into my runners and tee-shirt before forsaking what direct sunlight yet remained.

I had never even developed a rivulet or streak of perspiration.

Anyway, my afternoon melted into evening, and the sky almost appeared to be overcast. I was not to have my bath until fairly soon after 7 p.m., and was pleased at what my naked weigh-in revealed: at very most, I was 172 pounds.

Just after 8 p.m., I realized that it had become dark and I was free to eat. Officially, sunset hereabouts is listed at Google as being around 7:38 p.m.

I nearly opted to watch something on T.V. downstairs as I ate, but now that my younger brother is not using his van when he is out drinking, I am unable to know when he is about to return home. He just appears briefly as he crosses the lawn in front of the living room window, and then he is through the front door and I am trapped.

I have plans to rise at 4 a.m. overnight, you see; thus I dare not become embroiled with him in any late-night T.V. and beer-drinking.

I chose instead to eat here at my bedside computer while watching a 27-minute YouTube video uploaded just yesterday in Bangkok at the Maeil Bangkok channel: Soi Cowboy, one of the symbols of Bangkok nightlife. Updated on September 06, 2024.

My meal was done with only something better than three minutes remaining, so I watched the video through, and had to make a decision. Although it was by then nigh 9 p.m., there was no likelihood that I could anytime soon go to bed and expect to remain there until 4 a.m. ─ at that point it was seven hours away, and it normally takes me as many as three visitations to my bed to log in that many hours.

Besides, I was peculiarly tired. I knew that I could get to sleep ... but it would only be for a couple or so hours at best. And then what?

So I chose to watch a show and have myself a couple of cans of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol).

My entertainment was Prodigal Son ─ specifically, episode four ("Take Your Father to Work Day") of season two. Damn, it was good! This second season is the best!

And my gosh ─ guest actress Sarah Hunt as prison character Rhonda was spectacular as a woman capable of "extreme violence" was she was triggered. She could beat men to death with her bare hands, primarily because her explosion was so unanticipated and they would be entirely caught unawares and unprepared.

Also, supporting actress Halston Sage displayed some superbly girlish acting skills early into the episode that were so endearing ─ I have been a fan of her since discovering her in the T.V. series The Orville.

If interested, I watched the episode at this link at M4uHD.net, and it played flawlessly.

My brother arrived home maybe midway or more through the episode, but although my bedroom door was open ─ mostly ─ I was standing in the dark with my back to the hallway, and I was clearly watching something dramatic with the volume loud. If he said aught to me as he passed by on his way to his own bedroom to change clothes, I never heard anything.

Okay, it is now 10:46 p.m., so I should be able to retire anywhere from 11 p.m. to midnight with relative safe expectation of not finding myself distressedly restless with as much as a couple or so hours of wakefulness before I want to actually be getting up.

Maybe midnight is the safest target, but we shall see.