Cinematographer, I

Gotta run the iPhone today to capture for posterity my niece’s all-doll Girl Scout adventure. If it isn’t in tonight, she’s not eligible for Emmy consideration.

And I’m in no shape, I tell ya. The bed they got me on in this cold basement is for sure killing me.

But basement bad bed murder has its benefits. I was up at 5 to watch Jerry Lewis’ examination of gender roles and deceit among the Hippocratic, “Three on a Couch.” It gave me some Tashlinesque color ideas for the Tyke Theater recording plus a hearty dose of admiring “what the fuck?” And took my mind off my father’s latest hernia operation, scheduled for this morning, I think.

He’s had lots of ’em. In fact, his insides are now entirely made of mesh. (He’s in the “Guinness Book of Mesh,” if you don’t believe me.)

It’s an outpatient procedure now but the first time it was an inpatient procedure. I was 8 and they had to proscribe me tranquilizers ’cause I was so stressed about my daddy bein’ in the hospital.

I wonder if I could prevail upon the powers that are to offer them to me now. I could use a day as an unnaturally calm 8-year-old.

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