Ask me, “Totsy, since you’re trying to be economically smart and all, how’s it going without cable?” Well, being that you’re ever so concerned, I have to tell you, it’s not going well at all. I mean, I think I’m getting over the withdrawal but I have to admit, which I’m very ashamed of, Comcast is scheduled to hook me up tomorrow. Well, for folk who’ve kicked cable in the rear, you may say, “Boooooo, Totsy!” Of which I’d say with a rather snooty air in a country British accent, “Whatever.”
I’ll also go ahead and tell you that I’m cancelling the hook-up and go on to say, I’ve had some nice, quiet and sometimes, desperate moments with myself. Yesterday, I watched a video I never opened on the biography of Jackson Pollock. Today, it was Return to Me and Enough Said. You see, despite me talking like some tough southerner whom you may envision wearing steel pot hats and whatnot, I love a good romantic film. I even thought to buy a romance novel but I decided on another genre.
I suppose writing is eminent with no TV. I’ll also tell you I bought antennas from two different stores and neither worked out to where I could watch regular TV. It’s like…prison. I’ve never been inside one but I’ve seen enough prison-type movies to know you have to think about yourself a lot when there’s no noise around. You go to bed at a decent hour ’cause there’s no TV and you feel…so…alone. I’m looking real forward to mail these days ’cause I get lotsa magazines with cute, muscular men in them and well…this must be kinda what prison feels like, with the exception that I don’t have a girlfriend.
Having no TV must also be akin to being in a mental institution too ’cause I’m talking to myself a lot more. Not out loud but I do kinda wonder if my face reads that a conversation is going on in my head. I figure there must be some rehab group for what I’m going through. I can’t be the only one. And while I’m not exactly conversing with myself verbally, I am laughing out loud. What in the hell’s up with that?