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Squeaker of the House:

Shock and Yawn

21 November 2019


Today I am doing my nails, applying nail polish on them. And today’s shade of choice is called Squeaker of the House, by OPI.


I used to use Chanel nail polish exclusively, but that company kept making bizarre marketing choices, leading to one day of fury from me a few months ago. That box of vintage treasured nail lacquers is now in a safe, cool place, on a shelf in a closet. Once a month I give each nuanced shade a shake, and await the coming spring, when I shall feel less slimed by the attempts of an economically flailing company to be not gobbled up by the corporate blob of LVMH. My bet is on the blob.

Squeaker of the House is a greige (gray + beige) tone that mimics a darker version of Chanel Particulière, a shade from almost a decade ago. “Squeaker” is one of my many pet names for my snowshoe cat, Gabrielle. She has perfected the Stunned Squeak that currently is the sound of anyone attempting to make sense of public life in America.


Gabrielle has also perfected the Silent Scream, a shocked open-mouth inability to bring forth any sound at all, due to lack of oxygen. Life is sometimes but a dream, but I do dream of that sound effect amidst the hacks and harlots of politics and their propagandists.


Yesterday, I finished my review of The Churchill Chapter, Chapter 38, of L’AUBE (THE DAWN). That revision was a long haul since it proceeded amidst power blackouts in Placer County. I nonetheless persisted in never giving up!!


It was a bit sad for me translate my writing about Churchill into French because the English/Anglo-Saxon version is much more Winston. The French language does not adequately express the fierce grit of the man.


Fierce grit is not compatible with nail polish, but I somehow try to balance the two elements in my life. My life is a balancing act of wearing many hats amidst more than a few professions. It is my belief that the profession or work that a person choses to engage in, for however long a time that duty persists, ideally, if the person is suited to the job, it inspires him or her to grow, to mature, to become more of whoever that individual was born to be.

Of late, I have noticed professional “personality” dinosaurs from the 1990s behaving as if they are the current clarions of clarity to life in what will soon be the 2020s. Somewhere in time, those loudmouths became stuck in time, their own time. They were unable, or unwilling, to ever share the stage with new talents — the up-and-coming viewpoints of the future. And so, as roadblocks to the innovative verbal expression of intellectual property — those fossilized fomenters inadvertently necessitated new avenues of information-sharing into the world of media-dispersed thoughts. Necessity is the mother of invention. We currently have many brain-children of ingenuity. Those new voices are reaching for the broadcast stars!


The fresh “new" Loudmouths of the cable era have become the tired old Loudmouths of today. Sadly, they are stuck in a bubble of their own making, one that vastly dwarfs the bubbles of repressive thought they initially tried to burst — because those bigmouths got too caught up in their stratospheric ego-trips. Hopefully, the new Voices will forego the fantasy of the delusions of grandeur that trapped Old Media in a spinning cycle of selfishness. The world of public opinion always needs mentors, ones who might actually foster truth!

Truth is a constant, subterfuge is a variable. When the explicators of society and the prophets of life emerge, anywhere, I pull out my bottle of appropriately-themed nail polish. Two weeks ago, it was Berlin There Done That, in honor of the falling of the Berlin Wall which was, truth to tell, erected to keep people IN, not out. The Berlin shade was followed by Russian Navy, a stunningly dramatic polish that stained my nails! I had to bleach them a bit to restore the humanly pink tone. Last week, I applied Don’t Bossa Nova Me Around, a theme song for my life!


Today I selected the Gabrielle shade, Squeaker of the House. I apply 2 coats carefully, with the requisite base and top coats. And then I wait for the stuff to dry. Waiting is the hardest part. This step of the process, for me, feels like an eternity.


I am learning, daily, that an eternity does not last as long as it used to!