![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Musical Hauntology
Jul. 4th, 2021 05:46 pmSitting here waiting for Steve to return with the weekly shopping and give me my keys back so I can get into my Mom's building, where (as I do every week) I will slip a hundred bucks under a particular unemployed friend of mine's door. I've been doing this for at least two years now, and if I let myself tally up the weeks I guess I could make myself momentarily sad about how much money I've given away over that time-period, but that's hardly the point of the exercise. Not to mention the fact that A) money isn't real (unless you have to worry about how much of it you have, which she most definitely does) and B) I probably spend a hundred bucks every two days on household stuff, or picking up things just because I want to. I can spend my money however I decide to, which makes me lucky on a thousand different bases, and once a week, I spend it on her.
The other part of the equation is that she's "paid me back" for the last year or so by giving me stuff she didn't want/need from a food donation service she was part of, as she does with all of her other friends. Apparently this is coming to an end, which is fine with me, but means she definitely needs my money now more than ever. And I also think giving away stuff to other people has become a bit of a coping mechanism for her, so she's going to miss it; she has PTSD from an abusive relationship, so being stuck inside has been good in some ways, bad in others--caring for people helps her settle herself down. As caring for her maybe does for me?
Anyhow: Because of her, we have five jars of peanut butter and six bags of rice we haven't broken into yet; because of her, I have a whole tub full of dried legumes I'm finally working out how to cook, since the likelihood of us having to load them into a go-bag anytime soon is fairly low. Toronto has its problems, but "the lake is on fire" isn't one (as yet). That's why I currently have a bowl full of red kidney beans soaking in water and salt on my kitchen counter, for use in my next chilli bake, and why I'm planning to make fish stew using the bag of soup mix (yellow and red lentils, rice, split peas) sometime this week. I'll probably be cooking in the middle of the night, because it's cooler, and helps me wind down. Hell, I might even end up freezing some of it and giving it to her next week. And so it goes 'round and 'round.
This instalment brought to you by random musings about stuff I haven't given a lot of thought thus far, as ever. I'm vaguely tired, vaguely afraid; things are changing, and I don't know how to feel about it. These things should be exciting, but my brain is reading them as scary. Maybe I need less coffee and more food. Maybe I need to work. Maybe I need.
PS: The title is about the fact that I'm listening to Belbury Poly, all of whose music sounds like the score of a 1970s British folk horror/sci fi TV show. Check check it, if that's your jam. I suggest From a Distant Star.
The other part of the equation is that she's "paid me back" for the last year or so by giving me stuff she didn't want/need from a food donation service she was part of, as she does with all of her other friends. Apparently this is coming to an end, which is fine with me, but means she definitely needs my money now more than ever. And I also think giving away stuff to other people has become a bit of a coping mechanism for her, so she's going to miss it; she has PTSD from an abusive relationship, so being stuck inside has been good in some ways, bad in others--caring for people helps her settle herself down. As caring for her maybe does for me?
Anyhow: Because of her, we have five jars of peanut butter and six bags of rice we haven't broken into yet; because of her, I have a whole tub full of dried legumes I'm finally working out how to cook, since the likelihood of us having to load them into a go-bag anytime soon is fairly low. Toronto has its problems, but "the lake is on fire" isn't one (as yet). That's why I currently have a bowl full of red kidney beans soaking in water and salt on my kitchen counter, for use in my next chilli bake, and why I'm planning to make fish stew using the bag of soup mix (yellow and red lentils, rice, split peas) sometime this week. I'll probably be cooking in the middle of the night, because it's cooler, and helps me wind down. Hell, I might even end up freezing some of it and giving it to her next week. And so it goes 'round and 'round.
This instalment brought to you by random musings about stuff I haven't given a lot of thought thus far, as ever. I'm vaguely tired, vaguely afraid; things are changing, and I don't know how to feel about it. These things should be exciting, but my brain is reading them as scary. Maybe I need less coffee and more food. Maybe I need to work. Maybe I need.
PS: The title is about the fact that I'm listening to Belbury Poly, all of whose music sounds like the score of a 1970s British folk horror/sci fi TV show. Check check it, if that's your jam. I suggest From a Distant Star.
