Caterwauling

Mike White doesn’t accept criticism of “White Lotus.”

If you don’t like it, he says get out of his bed. That was a colorful quote, but I’d rather post this one instead:

Mike White addressed viewers who complained about the pacing, saying, “It definitely gets under their skin. There was complaining about how there’s no plot. That part I find weird. It never did. Part of me is just like ‘Bro, this is the vibe. I’m world-building.'”

Someone made some comment to me awhile back that I don’t DO anything.

My bestie said, “Tell them you have a rich inner life.”

So when I heard “I’m world-building,” I resonated so hard with that.

I spend a lot of time thinking but very little time doing.

I plan vacations. I mentally map out articles. I rehearse conversations. For hours, days, weeks, months.

Then I bang them all out.

Few understand this. The ones who do, don’t say dumb things about my process.

Like right now. I was supposed to have written six major things this weekend. I did one.

The rest, Sky Daddy willing, will come to me tomorrow. And probably keep me up in the meantime. Not writing; just worrying whether the Muse will kick in.

The Muse is rightly offended and unfortunately on strike today because of it.

I used to sit at my desk all weekend. Mom would have to sit home and wait for me to force myself to write for 48 hours.

I don’t do that anymore. Most of those worlds I built no longer exist.

I can’t get her or that time back. But I have learned from it. I’d rather write blogs or organize my photos from my week at Disney with Kelly. That’s the stuff that lasts.

I’m hoping all the deja vu stays. It comes on stronger when I do what I believe is the right thing for myself. Parking my ass in the sun today, for example. I had such a good idea for a trip, to stay at two different hotels and plan my activities by east vs west.

My spidey senses tingled even harder when I got that nudge. It reminded me of another dream where I did something else cool. So I texted Kelly and said I’m going to go to XYZ if you want in.

And the universe sent me the name of the place to stay … from a dream, from memory, from a past life, from a future life? Who knows.

I wonder if this is Mom coming through. Or if the veil thins for full moons, which I’ve read it does, moreso than quarter or dark moons.

I don’t actually believe there is a veil. Veils are breathable anyway. I think information is always passing through.

I’m just lucky enough to finally be catching more of it. And rebuilding my world with what is sinking in on the second or third trip through my mind.

I was out walking today and freakin Connie started walking in front of me.

Connie is a bitch. I try not to look her way.

Same with Peppermint Patty, who I saw next.

I realized Kelly was spot-on when she told me the other day that I have a VERY active bitch face.

“At least you soften quickly,” she qualified it. “When you want to.”

She pointed out stories of men approaching us in bars and wherever else we go, which is everywhere.

She said they try so hard to come up to you and you look at them like they are about to ruin your good time.

I mean … aren’t they?

With this in mind, I’ve tried to check myself the past few days.

I called everyone with a red MAGA hat in Disney a Nazi. One and his disabled wife with a matching hat turned around and about beat the shit out of me in Epcot.

But hey fuck you — wear mouse ears like the rest of us and hide your racism.

Honestly they probably saw my face and changed their minds about attacking me. That and I can outrun them. Especially when their orange overlord cancels their disability payments.

But Kelly isn’t wrong. I really am just braced for nonsense.

From MAGA dipshits. From Connie and Peppermint.

From men who aren’t going to be worth it.

Like don’t fuckin talk to me or look at me or breathe my air.

Mom’s friend asked if I have Mom’s same bad luck with men. I said yes and I have the track record to prove it. But unlike her, I am not nice. I scare them off quickly.

She said good girl, you’re more like your grandmother.

That’s what I need — a good man like my grandfather who wasn’t scared off by her no-bullshit-allowed vibe.

I wonder how they met. All I know was he had just come back from the war.

You know, back when boys gave their lives and/or health fighting Nazis instead of needing to beg them for their military pensions.