Three Reviews, 4.11.2021

 

Tomorrow sex will be good again by Angel

 

I’m a member of the Verso book club where the publisher sends you a book every month. It’s cool and I like supporting independent publishers.

 

I have enjoyed most of the texts that I’ve chosen from the list.

 

This one didn’t really do it for me. It’s a thin hardback I read over a couple of days and then the next day I really couldn’t articulate what I read – It wasn’t bad so I’m not mad that I read it, but it also wasn’t good, so I have warm memories of it. At best it was forgettable, and I feel bad since I might not be the direct audience, but I do consider myself a feminist ally. So, this is just my incredibly subjective opinion, and your mileage may differ.

 

Money: A Suicide Note by Amis

I had this book on my shelf for years and I recently picked it up because I was looking for something different. The first book I read from Amis was Time’s Arrow, and I loved it so much I went and bought a handful of this other books, but it seemed like Time’s Arrow was just a one off and I didn’t seem to like the other things I tried to read.

 

I did finish this one though. And I have to say I think it is the worst book I ever finished that I read on my own. I usually don’t have a problem putting books down if I don’t like them,  but I kept chugging on this one and I don’t know why exactly. Amis does some stylistic things here that I would normally like- the main character is the narrator, and he breaks the fourth wall, there is a secondary character who is a writer named “Martin Amis”.

 

The problem is that the main character is one of the unredeemable creatures. I think Amis was going for a Catcher in the Rye / Confederacy of Dunces thing, but it doesn’t hit. John Self, the main character is an 80s guy doing horrible 80s things in New York and London, and for me it isn’t interesting. He’s horrible but I don’t care about him in that I don’t want him to succeed or fail. That’s not great when the book is so character driven.

 

 

Years of Rice and Salt by Robinson

This is an interesting book. Before I read it, the only thing I knew was the premise – that it was an alternate history positing what would happen if the black death had been more fatal. Perfect pandemic reading.

 

Thoughts: I was expecting it to be more focused on the empty European continent that it was. Shows how Eurocentric I am.

 

The individual stories are impressive. Robinson had to do this larger world building, but then get more specific about not only the culture but how they might have changed as there was greater divergence in the world as it is and the world as he dreamed it. This does make it a bit hard to read, as you get used to one set of characters and the situation and then it moves on.

 

There is in the world he builds a parallel to the actual world, so there are equivalents to Newton and Einstein and Columbus, but they have different names and native tongues. Were I drafting a paper on this book, that might be the thing I focus on. Is Robinson positing some sort of teleology in technological development?

 

Ultimately as a novel it doesn’t really work because it’s not building to anything narratively, it just cycles and fades. But it’s hard to complain because that’s really history, right? One dang thing after another.

 

There is one story that centers around a kid who is captured and made into a eunuch and that was very troubling and hard to read part. But it did make me do more research on eunuchs, a thing I was not expecting happening from reading this text.

Learning New Patterns: No More Belly Rubs

This is a follow up post to my journal  detailing the week I knew when we would have to say goodby to my beloved dog Barney. I wanted to make sure that I documented my thoughts and emotions so I could remember  the details. I haven't had the emotional strength to go re-read it so it might be a little raw.

####

Wrote up the above and posted it after a walk. Watching more movies and being sad when people post in sympathy. Looked over to his bed a couple times, the subconscious checking on him that I've gotten used to over the years. So worn out. Such great grief because of all the joy he brought.

Going through the nightly routine without him broke me. No letting him out or giving him treats. No pushing the table back so he could get up in the couch. I'm not sure if he was on the couch last night though. Went to give him his morning belly rubs and he was on his bed. So I moved Mort so I could sit next to him and he let me pet him for a while before moving back to the door. One of the harder things as he aged was that he snuggled less. I think it was part of his declining eyesight and hearing. Or the loss of padding as he became more skin and bone. 

Can’t sleep. Tired but the minute I try to fall asleep I start with this wave of grief. 

##3/26/2021

Today is the first morning without any belly rubs.

I would love to have things to do as a distraction but the pandemic makes that next to impossible.

Even though I know he won't be there, I keep looking at his favorite spots just to check on him. Turning my head only to remember.

Here's the screenshot of the last walk I took with him and then the walk on Monday where I knew it was time. Poor guy, he loved his walks.

I started this trying to savor every minute I was left. But now that he's gone there is just grief. Grief feels le ss momentous or notable. I'm sad and it's hard to say exactly why I'm sad. I can think of memories just like the very first time I brought him home I drove home from Uncle John's house in Kansas City and I had them in the back of the truck but he kept trying to smell outside cuz I had the window down a bit and he would get right up behind me and make it hard to drive.

I was trying to find his breeder to just ride a thank you now until how much I love them. But all I can remember is that they were an Airedale breeder near or outside Sedalia Missouri. And I googled it and I can't be sure if the people that looks like it might be or actually them. I can't find any stuff in any of my email either my Gmail account or my old Yahoo stuff. I don't know if Dad called me about it and we talked but you definitely didn't email.

I keep doing this thing where I walk into the living room and I subconsciously look at the couch or his bed to check on him like I always do, and then there's a split second before I remember and catch what I'm doing consciously and it breaks my heart every f****** time.

I did pick up his collar and smell it pretty deeply It still smells like him has his oils. That made me sad too.

If anything breaks me, it is these acts of remembering. Looking at the time and seeing it's 9:13 and thinking I should let him out. And then thinking about this and mindlessly filling up the cat food bowl and looking over at the dog bowl to see if he needs anything. And then that brief moment before remembering.

##3/27/2021

Thinking about grief last night. When I was a little kid I had a hobby horse and something happened to it that the head got ruined. I don't remember the horse or the act of destruction, but I remember the sorrow I had over the loss. My mom tried to make it better. She made me a new hobby horse, this time with a blue head. It wasn't the same. I eventually got another "brown headed horsie" as I called it as I cried and wailed. In how people experience an perform grief I have always been vocal. Now I try to hold it back, not out of masculine ideals but consideration for the person sitting next to me.

Grief never ends. I still cry for those I lost a half a lifetime ago or more. It just becomes less surprising and more familiar. 

Fewer random breakdowns today. Picked up the last few pellets of food from his last meal he didn't eat. Doing chores. Normal things I'd relate with him. Still looking for him, but more knowing he's gone. Anita picked up his ashes and brought him home. It's nice to have him here. But hard.

Keeping busy helps, but at the between times when not doing things hurts. Lets the mind drift.

#3/28/2021

I was really hoping to get to sleep last night without crying myself to sleep. Maybe tonight it will happen.

I have these posts on facebook and it's nice but everytime I get a notification because someone has left kind words it makes me sad again.

Fewer breakdowns today. Washing dishes, cooking eggs, doing the nightly chores. Normal things that we would have done together. Anita cleaned the house and picked up some of his things - his food and water bowl, the yoga mats we had for padding his walk. Told her I wasn't ready to move the beds yet. Will do some sort of ceremony in the near future but not ready to think about that. Trying to keep busy and the mind occupied.

##3/29/2021

Mostly successful in not crying myself to sleep last night. The grief is still there but I'm learning to wear it. Just resting on my shoulders. It's this shirt that everyone wears, a sadness that accumulates through every loss and we're defined in part by how we wear it. I saw someone posting on twitter saying that the tradition of mourning clothes makes sense in that you are newly wearing new grief but you don't want to explain it to people. I think I could talk about Barney for about 30 seconds right now without breaking down.

The whole thing just reopened newer wounds from Dad's death. 

Not sure what kind of ceremony to do. There's a sense of finality there I'm not ready for yet. I walked down the steps looking for him at the bottom of the steps and on the couch and on the bed. Hoping he'd somehow be there.

Did notice that Anita tossed those three pellets I set aside. Makes sense, since I didn't say anything. But felt more loss. Wasn't sure what I would do with them but that they were still there symbolized a bridge to when he was alive. 

Took a picture of the bag the other day, and it's just sitting there.

Very tasteful, and they use the same empty collar imagining that I used earlier.

Remembering the other day when I broke down about Cheetoes, since he loved the puffs. They were pretty much the last human food he got, since we pulled back on all other human food when he started having digestion issues a couple of years ago. We also still gave him eggs, but only if they weren’t cooked in bacon grease or over seasoned. 

How do people without dogs pick up the food they drop? It’s literally something I haven’t thought of for a long time. Those crumbs maybe were the last human food he got that was varied. 

Mom and Dad always kept more than one dog at a time. I can see the benefit because I want another pupper to hug right now. The cats aren’t cutting it. It was the same thing when Casey died, just alone in the basement.

Pet death is something you know is going to happen the day you get them. And with Barney it was something I started facing two years ago when he was having issues with both his ears and the coughing. We cleared that up, but I came to terms with the idea that we might not. And it was something that became real last September when he had the episode at the groomer. I really thought I was going to lose him then. Luckily we had another six months where I got to pet him and tell him I loved him and snuggle with him. But it doesn’t really make it any easier.

I am still sad.Going to get a clicker to count how many times I cried. Going to get a curio cabinet to keep all the mementoes of the dead as they accumulate. 

Just a huge part of me doesn’t want to be alone upstairs. His ghost is here in the basement too, where he used to move between the couch and his bed and the closet, but it has been a while since I found him in the closet. Maybe the floor was too hard for him or the concrete too cold. Did turn and look for him on the couch. But it already seems to be happening a bit less.

I’m really glad that I get to see Bear, the neighbor’s dog. He’s a friendly and playful boy who also likes belly rubs, but it’s not the same.

Received a couple of sympathy cards today. It was incredibly thoughtful, and way more than I would do. Of course it did made me sad again.

As long as I keep my mind busy, I'm good. Apparently I can't do the pet chores without crying though.

##3/30/3021

Still sad. Crying less. Managed not to cry myself to sleep last night. Keeping busy is the key. Just wish things were open so we could have gone somewhere.

Glad I had those days off!

Those idle moments of reflection are what break me.

Called Bear “Barney” when I was over there today. That made me sad. 

##3/31/2021

Woke up to go pee and started thinking about him. Wasn’t able to fall back asleep.

I miss my stinky buddy, my smelly teddy bear.

The difference between sadness and depression is that sadness is active. It takes a lot of energy to be sad.

I haven't had any dreams about him. On one hand this is good since it means I haven't woken up sad. But in the other hand it means I haven't seen him again, even in dreamland.

I feel a responsibility to mourn. His passing will be noted by so few. My tears are a vindication that his life on this earth mattered.

I really need to stop mindlessly looking at the couch when I enter the living room.

I had thought that I was somewhat mentally prepared for all of this. I think there’s some sorts of things that you can imagine and get yourself ready for, like the decision to put him down and the moment in the vet’s office, but what I was not ready for was the absence. You can’t prep for that.

Thinking about my mom. There’s been several things in the last year or two that would have sucked without the pandemic. My grandma died in august of 2019 and my dad died in February of 2020. My mom lost her mom and her life companion, love of her life, father of her children in the span of half a year. And then the pandemic hit. Still working through all that.

I had known that Barney’s end was coming. I was in denial but we had talked through it. Knowing that a decision would be made eventually. But someone had to make it. It was when we were walking that Monday that I knew. I got home and sat down on the couch and was waiting for anita as she worked late. I asked for a hug and she asked what was wrong and I nodded towards Barney and she asked what’s wrong and I said “I think it’s time”. That was all I needed to say but it was the first time I vocalized it. I knew that I would have to be the one that made the decision finally but saying it broke my heart. And I have no doubt that it was the kind and compassionate thing to do (especially as it seemed that last week was even harder than normal for him as he was panting more and having more trouble getting up and down) but good damn that was hard. And it’s something you know is coming the minute you bring a puppy home. This pain is worth all the joy he brought for over fourteen years. But it’s a lot of pain right now.

##4/1/2021

It doesn’t stop hurting, you just get more used to it. I was thinking I was ok since I didn’t cry myself to sleep last night nor did I wake up crying so I was a bit steady. Then I realized that right now about a quarter to eleven would be around the time we put him to sleep a week ago. Still sad. 

Ok, I was not ready to go back and re-read some of the things I had written yet.

How has it already been a week? It feels like limbo. I moved his beds into the closet that we call Lynn’s Room. He used to like to go in there to lay down. I think it was quiet and dark and the ground helped him cool down. I think the ground got too hard for him since it had been a while since he went back there. I wanted to have them stop reminding me of him and making me cry every time I glanced over automatically but didn’t want to throw them out just yet. Trying to defamiliarize the place a bit. But now where there was some life there’s just the empty space.

Going to bed tonight as anita was brushing her teeth downstairs, I was thinking to myself it hadn't been a bad day, only broke down crying like four or five times. And that set me off, so now we're at five or six. It just comes over me but doesn't usually linger as long. Anita comes to pet me to make me feel better. 

##4/2/2021

Like four good cries? It's about relearning life with fewer footsteps in the house. Actually watching food I drop. Not singling out a slice of ham as a treat. And so much silence, the unprepared and impossible silence. Keeping busy so my mind doesn't wander. 

##4/3/2021

Still can’t really sit alone in the living room. Want to rearrange the furniture a bit so the spot where his bed was isn’t such a blank empty space that makes me sad every time I look at it. 

Still doing the thing where I subconsciously work around like he’s still alive. In two minutes after showering I walked out and popped my head in the living room only to make myself mad and then on the way down the stairs thought to myself I should check on him before I go to the basement. Just bums me out, man.

I just miss my doggy.

##4/4/2021

Was doing so good. But near the end of the day, taking out the kitty litter looking at the big yard and thinking about what a big yard we have and no one to run around in it. And then getting ready for bed. Tears come from the habits I associate with him. And that is it from now on. When those memories come like with Dad and Marc and Tamra and Allison, living through our memories. Even the happy memories tinged with sadness. 

##4/6/2021

Every day is a little bit better. I’m getting used to the new normal, but still sad when I think about things. Pets are just so much a part of your life from the first belly rub in the morning to the last little pet on the head at night. It sucks when that part is wrenched out of you. 

##4/7/2021

The tears still come but they’re less overwhelming. It’s just this absence that has descended over the house and in my soul. Not much more original to say. 

##4/11/2021

Still crying a bit every day. The other day I decided it was time to try to donate his food and just the thought of it made me sad and I asked Anita to do it instead. Glad not to have that visual reminder in the house and hopeful some other dog and their family will benefit.

Thought about the resistance his collar gave as I pulled the loop and clipped in his leash as we got ready to go out the door for a walk. Dreamed about the jingle of his tags. Or was I awake?

It is these transitions, the times when I would normally check on him where he is and how he is doing that still happen, leaving the room or coming in or going to bed. I know he’s gone but the habits are still learning.

##

I’ve been thinking about this photo a lot recently. Every time I go outside I see our big yard. 

I still remember looking for places eight and a half years ago. We didn’t have a lot of money so a lot of the places all had something wrong, since most were short sales or foreclosures. The moment we walked out the back door I looked over and saw the garage and based on what we had seen at other houses I immediately assumed that it was the garage for the neighbor and I asked our relator and he said it was part of the property. In my mind that was when I decided that this was the best place we’d seen. The inside was a little run down but you can fix that up, you can’t make more land. And it was that nice big yard so Barney could have a place to run around. Even though he was always a more indoors dog, he had the chance to go out and chase the bunnies until they got too fast him. He’d go out in the year and when he was ready to come back in he’d walk not in a direct line to the door but would find the closest sidewalk so he wouldn’t have to walk on the grass too much.

Losing him has been hard but it has been made easier by all the kind words from friends and family - cards and letters and donations! Everyone is just too kind.. Barney was a part of my life for so long It’s hard to unlearn those patterns that were ingrained in our way of being. One day we’ll have another furry friend to run around in that yard, but he’ll always be my buddy.