Good days and bad days and going half mad days

Sidelined and holding the single malt hostage.

Over the years my stream of consciousness has eroded the banks so badly it's difficult to find the main channel these days, but let's try. This was going to be one of those good days but, here's how my life goes. I had the trailer all packed up and stocked up to take my first extended trip in it today. But as these things go, the furnace failed so my trip was from here to the dealer's. They had to keep it because they might have to replace the furnace. 
I headed home disappointed but realized I could at least renew a prescription that was about to run out while I was gone and might have cut my trip short. When I called they said half an hour and as I was only that far from them and it was on the way home, the timing was perfect. 
I got there early so I made a Taco Bell stop and the pharmacy which was right across the street called while I was in line for my food. Perfect, luck changing. With my prescription and my burrito in hand I headed home, putzed a little, took a long nap and woke up feeling better. 
I watched Rachel and O'Donnell lavish praise on Kamala Harris and went on line where I came across a great story about her written by a public defender who often opposed her in court when Harris was California's attorney general. I was suitably impressed at the many effective progressive improvements Harris was able to make. In the process I went back into some old political writings on this blog and came across the video version of "For What It's Worth" the kids at Stoneman High School produced after the shooting there. 
Here's that video:

 

My friend Suzy calls
this an adult juice bocx.

That got the juices flowing and then the song following was a cover version of the old Cream song "I can't find my way home." That also was inspiring and I thought of all the alcohol fueled playlists I've put up over the years and considered it, especially as the third song in the future on that channel was by Amy Winehouse and I have never heard her. So, mmmm, time for a little single malt to get things rolling. Get this. I own two expensive bottles of Glenmorangie scotch. You know where they are? They are in the travel trailer 25 miles away at the dealership. I went to the closest liquor store to me here a couple of years ago and I actually had to explain to the kid exactly what single malt scotch is. No sense going there and I am not up for a 20-mile round trip for what would probably be no more than two glasses of expensive scotch. In the process of looking for liquid inspiration, it hit me that in addition to moving those two expensive bottles of scotch into the trailer, I had also cleaned out what was left in the liquor cabinet in the process of leaving this place.
Looking like another night of mediocre TV now. Crap. But wait. I found an old box of Cabernet with some left in it in the back of the refrigerator. Maybe the evening is saved.  
I originally wrote this as an instant message to a friend and it got so long my first move is to turn that into this blog post. Turns out the wine isn't so bad. Watch this space.

And, oh yeah, here's that Cream cover:


And then there's my first Amy Winehouse. (The most recent member to join the "27 club") RIP


Interesting for sure. And this old wine is still pretty good, too. Now, about that furnace.
       Somehow the term "old wine" keeps drawing me into the necessity to write a poem but for the life of me I can't find my way to the next word or home either for that matter. So that goes. It brings to mind Isaac Bashevis Singer whose "Old Loves" was recommended to me by a friend years ago and still stands in a place of prominence on an overloaded bookshelf at the East Pole. So old loves and old wine must connect by some thread, but old loves have become painful memories in my current circumstance and right now I am past the bad part of the day and looking for food so I'm not going there and besides I have just poured the second glass of wine and really would rather eat something. (now that's how stream of consciousness works) but there's a problem you see, most of the recent food purchases and all the condiments and sauces and such are in that trailer a 50-mile round trip away and probably locked indoors anyway (I don't even have Jimmy Buffett's mythical lost shaker of salt), however I did spot a Marie Callendar chicken pot pie in the freezer when I pulled an ice cube out for the wine (I have this tray that makes huge cubes you only need one per drink and it lasts a long time)… oh, crap just gave away my pedestrian tastes … no matter, this isn't luxury wine dining it's what I call writer's wine, the cheap wine beat writers like Ferlinghetti and Kerouac and Ginsburg drank in sleazy apartments and taverns in San Francisco or Greenwich Village ... during the 1950s. I'm done.
Here's that story about Kamala Harris
Past playlists
More past playlists
And a few looks at politics
When good people do nothing