Nah, I'm not even going to bother.

  I'm going to go ahead and get something down. I plumb forgot Thursday, didn't think about it until 4 a.m. Friday morning, and was too lazy to do anything about it. I had tried to remember, honest.

 I didn't even try to fill in Friday. Had a doctor's appointment and ran some errands in Tupelo, so by the time I got home, all I wanted to do was nap. I did know, I just didn't care. I got a really sharp piece on the News about the Mississippi Legislature coming up with a medical cannabis bill that's actually better, best I can tell, than what Initiative 65 would've given us. The rest of the week is pretty decent, too, despite having plenty of Actual Paying Work to do.

 I've been putting some serious thought into making a major change. Specifically, cutting this bullshit out. I might get one or two good pieces out of this shit a month, and the rest is just me trying to fill space. It's no fun and discouraging. I started this just to get back into fighting shape and hopefully make some interesting boil out of it. That hasn't happened.

 So, what I might do is go ahead and keep an MWF-plus-weekend schedule for The News. The music stuff will stay on Tumblr just because it's easier to plug in music or videos and is easier to retweet. Blogger is pretty rickety and I don't believe it'll ever get much better. It seems like it's an afterthought that isn't irritating enough for Google to dump like they did Google Plus.

 Anyway. I'll kick it around but I'm pretty much settled on it. Like I said, not only is it rarely any fun, most of the time it just makes me feel worse. I don't see the point in all that.

 Just got back from Otis' late afternoon walk. He never wants to go far - down to the curve, up to the Old Place, or just around the property - but he wants to keep going out. He's been having a worse time getting around, full-on balance issues. And they're worst after dark. Getting old is a drag but watching your dog getting old is much, much worse.

 Watching a Cinematic Excrement episode on "Mommie Dearest." I've never seen it, but the Smeghead (that's what he calls himself) is talking about how perception can differ, particularly when it comes to abuse in a family. Momma can completely ignore the abuse she suffered from Daddy and Poppaw and then in the next breath tell one of the most horrible stories you ever heard about some of the shit my father pulled. I'm not condemning nor complaining, it is just an interesting stroke to ponder, I think. The mind plays tricks on you, sure, but not near to the amount you play tricks on it.

 I don't cotton much to child abuse. I think corporal punishment is child abuse. I think yelling at your kid is child abuse. I think preventing them from something they enjoy for an extended period of time to punish them is child abuse. I don't have kids and that's one of the reasons why. I do not understand how even what I consider proper parents do it, not going to lie. Not strangling my dog because he spends an hour-and-forty-five minute going inside and out at 3 a.m. So, yeah, forgive me if I judge and take it with a grain of salt.