Monday, January 31, 2005

Sunday, January 30, 2005

I only slept 6 hours last night, but actually woke up feeling well rested. Sometimes I don't understand my sleep schedule and needs.

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

So I'm at work today. Since I was out of sick time and called in on Saturday and Sunday, I get to make up time. Fun.

Monday, January 24, 2005

It's amazing what just some little antibiotics will do. I feel so much better now. Plus, Jenny came over last night with some broth and then took me to the store so I could get some more groceries! Yay food! Girls are rad. Well, some girls. Well, okay, Jenny is rad.

Sunday, January 23, 2005

Saturday, January 22, 2005

Pulp Fiction is on. It's hard to believe this film is already 10 years old. On the whole this is just one big cliche now, or maybe it always was. I still like it; over the top and cheese.
What I Did On My Summer Vacation.

So I haven't been sleeping well from what I thought was a cold and the drugs I was taking to not notice the cold. Friday night was a clincher; I took one too many shots of DXM and had to throw up. In order to leave, I'm supposed to get my boss' permission. Normally this isn't a problem, but she'd already left for the day and I had to call her. I hate calling people about work shit when they aren't at work. I left about two hours early, getting a ride with one of the other managers. I convinced myself that I'd had enough and that I'd go to the clinic tomorrow if I didn't feel better. My ride, a long-time coworker and friend, offered to drive me there right then. I didn't have the nerve; I have a problem with doctors and had to work up the strength. Arriving home, I wish I'd taken him up on his offer. I couldn't sleep, or even drink myself to sleep. I tossed around in bed until about 7ish, took a shower, laid back down, wished I had a friend that could pick me up and take me to the clinic this early. I signed on to AIM hoping someone would be awake, but no luck.

Around 9, I left. I didn't feel as bad as the night before, but I knew it would come back. One problem with the bus system here is that there are major routes that run all night, but not many minor routes. Sometimes you have to walk a mile or two to get where you need to be. I could have waited for the Harmon or Flamingo bus to take me to Eastern, but it takes just as long to walk it. I grab the bus on Eastern down to Russell, then had to walk up to the same street my apartment is on. I'm pretty miserable by now, but the nurses are okay. A few simple questions, fill out this form, $25 please. I thought it was going to be $50, but we just changed insurance so I guess it went down. When I hopped on the scale, the nurse had the large weight on 100 and the medium one on 50. I laughed for a second, then she put it down to 10. With a coat and steel toe boots I came to 127. I've heard people put on weight when they stop smoking, so I'm prolly gonna gain some this week. Oh well, not like anyone can really tell with the baggy clothes I wear.

Finally getting into the exam room, it seemed like I had to wait forever. Just a small room with an examination bed, a chair, a stool, a sink, and a few exam instruments. The doctor finally came in. White guy, perfect english. I was surprised. He asked the normal questions, did the poking and prodding, etc, and told me I probably have a sinus infection. He gave me a prescription for some antibiotics and asked if I had any questions. It was almost 1 by now, so I asked if I could have a note for work. I was exhausted and really didn't feel like doing much but sleep. He wrote one out for two days and told me to get some rest and take some long hot showers.

I left, called work, and took the Eastern bus back towards home.
Yeah, so at least it isn't the flu. Turns out I have a nice little sinus infection!

Friday, January 21, 2005

Does one really sleep when dosed up on cough syrup? I remember going to bed at about 2:30 and just seeing a blur of the red numbers on my alarm. I feel rested enough, but it doesn't seem like I closed my eyes.
I want a tent. I think it would be darker in my room if I slept in a tent.
Also, I forgot to mention that Roxy Music's "More Than This" can eat just about any other 80s song for breakfast.
Working up the strength to finally leave my well-blanketed couch this afternoon, I head over to the drug store for some evil death flu remedies. I somehow manage to avoid running through the store screaming "Yay, taquitos!" but that's for another time. The woman in front of me at the register is asking about the sale price of certain candy bars. I don't look down on this; some people are cheap and/or poor and still eat candy. She's holding an envelope with "1.78" written on the front. Without context to make any meaning, I don't notice it until it's gone. The cashier is helping her count some change out. "We can't accept Canadian," she says, handing back a foreign coin. My turn at the register, I wonder out loud (but not too loudly since the woman is still just a few steps away) "isn't she a bit old to be buying candy with change?"

"She tried to buy cigarettes with that, but she didn't have enough"
"Well, we see it all the time, people just getting out of jail, or the hospital. At least she'll get something in her stomach until she can get someplace"

I'm ashamed of myself now. The white envelope contained the contents of her pockets when she was admitted to the emergency room just two blocks away. It's no wonder she needed so much help counting, now that I notice she can barely stand up. Jumping to conclusions, making rash judgments, I'm too often guilty (and not just with people.)

What I said and felt about the woman in front of me in line might be correct, but that doesn't make it right to say it.

Thursday, January 20, 2005

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

Ug, sick. I couldn't sleep last night and I've been drinking herbal tea all day. I'm trying a beer right now, but it tastes funny.

Monday, January 17, 2005

I'm bored and frustrated but I can't think of anything better to do than sit in front of my computer and fuck around.

Sunday, January 16, 2005

Saturday, January 15, 2005

Wow, no updates since Wednesday. Where to start? Wednesday night was a bit of a party. My friend Kathy came over for her weekly visit (usually just a couple of beers or some wine and Wrath of God or whatever on the History Channel. She likes to keep in touch with friends, even if it’s just a once-a-week hour-long visit.) I’d mentioned that I wanted to get my eyebrows shaped and she said she had some wax at home. After she’d retrieved it and we cleaned up my eyebrows, a few more people came over. I didn’t have time to shave my face so I thought I looked a little funny with shaped eyebrows and two week’s worth of beard; no one probably noticed anyway. Maybe next week I’ll go for a haircut and manicure. We had like 6 people show up total. The moment one couple showed up, I opened the refrigerator to put away some beer and spilled an entire gallon of Kool-Aid; oops. It was quite the cluster-fuck. I was showing off my art and there was music blasting. Someone was playing my bass and at some point I think I was playing my didgeridoo. After we’d dusted 12’ers of Newcastle, Bass, most of the Guinness, a 6 pack of 8 Ball Stout, some bourbon-and I’m sure there were a few others-we headed to Cheers.

As some of my friends left the bar (hours after we arrived) I found out one of the bar semi-regulars killed himself earlier that week. I was told he’d be diagnosed with terminal cancer and decided to chew on a bullet to save himself and his family the trouble. I didn’t really know the man, but he was a small celebrity. He was a pool shark and a protégé of a shark named Fast Eddie Felson (subject of the Hustler and the Color of Money.) This guy was a money player and an old man, so one should be careful about believing what he said. Either way, when he would stoop to play us amateurs, it was only to teach us a lesson or two about how it’s done. It was wonderful to hear his colorful stories of hustling pool through the 50s and 60s. His stories were quite colorful and he taught me a few cool shots. I guess it doesn’t matter how much of what he said was true, or even if he was who he said he was. Part of Vegas’ appeal is its façade. Most of my friends had gone home, so I had a few shots in the old man’s memory and we played a few games of 8-ball. I got home sometime around dawn.

Thursday night, a new friend came over. Well, one of Ian’s friends, really, but I think she’s cool and so the three of us hung out. She’s taller than I am and (of course) weighs a little bit more (well like 40 pounds more.) She usually wears long skirts and cute blouses. She’s into power noise, mostly (in sharp contrast to Ian’s Fields of the Nephilim and P.i.L. or my synthpop.) She brought over a VHS copy of Multiple Maniacs, which I haven’t seen since I broke up with Spuds. I only had a few Guinness and some cheap bourbon left, but she brought some lousy low carb (!) beer called Dab or some such garbage. I don’t think I should have let it in the apartment, but whatever. She said that since I’d let her have so many beers the last time she was over she might as well bring some this time. Nice, I get stuck buying the beer most of the time. I was sore from the night before so I didn’t want to drink that much anyway. I think I’d woken up at 16:00. She wanted to play Trivial Pursuit, which is always cool with me. Ian was passing out in the middle so we went a few rounds without him. I think I’m more her type than Ian is anyway. It’s difficult to say how much closer since I’m so effeminate and crabby, but my taste in film, music, and culture is much closer to hers than Ian’s is.

We made some light talk; found out a little bit about each other. She hates the Cure. She hates vegetarians. She’d make a great girlfriend for a real rivet-head (not a panty-waist art fag like me.) I tell her about my previous girlfriends (the huge banner-sized Boy’s Don’t Cry poster over the bed, all the Cure albums, vegetarians, Dr. Martin’s, berets, trench coats, incense, and votive candles. Sigh.) She laughs and says she’d punch a vegan in the mouth and piss on Robert Smith. So much anger! That being said, I think she’s still intelligent and attractive, if a bit mislead. She seemed really excited about the “Teach Yourself Morse Code” record I picked up in Toronto, so there might be hope yet.

When Ian woke back up, he got back in the game and picked up a few easy questions to win (I’d gotten all the wedges and was waiting to land in the center for the win. Given our collective knowledgebase, the final question was always going to be sports and leisure, meaning we’d only win if I got a chess question or any of us got a booze question.) She wound up two wedges behind us boys. I don’t think I’ve ever played to let the girl win. Maybe that’s why I’m sleeping alone so much. Ian went to bed at this time and the two of us continued gaming. I picked out my cards, dominoes, and backgammon sets. We settled on dominoes. She plays “prison rules” with some nonsense about “houses” and only scoring in multiples of fives. Whatever, I picked up on it quickly. We played a few hands and she came ahead by the time I was ready to pass out. I don’t remember leaving for bed. I have that problem a lot; even if I’m not that drunk I usually stay up until I’m so tired I just automatically make it to bed. I hope I didn’t do anything untoward or out of line. I’d probably remember it if I did.

The next day, I woke up at about 13:10. I have to wake up at 11:00 to make it to work. I think my alarm had gotten unplugged. Fortunately, Ian was still home so I could use his cell phone to call into work. Unfortunately she wasn’t there; otherwise I might have called in late and gotten a ride. Ian said she was in the bathroom when he woke up. I didn’t think she’d had that much to drink. I didn’t want to call in, but I was in no shape to leave the apartment. My sleep schedule was 6 or 7 hours out of sync, I’ve had a cold for weeks, and I was just burned out. After getting in touch with my boss (who was remarkably understanding and told me I could make the day up later in the week,) I went back to bed and woke up at about 7pm. I took a sleeping bag into the living room (I need to hook the cable back up in my room) to watch Wrath of God or whatever on the History Channel and just doze in and out of reality. A Xanax or something would have worked a miracle. Even just some cough syrup. Just laying there was wonderful. I went back into my room at about 3am, wrapping myself in the sleeping bag that Danielle left behind, pulling a second sleeping bag over that, padding the bed with four or five of the ancient blankets I have, then pulling my comforter over my head and a huge pile of all my pillows. A better pillow fort has never been constructed.

I managed to sleep solidly through the night even though I hadn’t had drug or drink all day. Usually, I will wake up here and there as the stupid wets honk their horns and blast Tejano or Banda or the trash man thumps and beeps outside my window. My eyes opened at about 10:45, just before my alarm. I was well rested, but exiting my cave has never been more difficult. I managed to slip into the (even darker) bathroom and lay down in the tub as the hot water hit me in the chest and side. As the hot water ran out, I dried off and slipped under the mound of blankets for another fifteen minutes. The mess of books and records on my floor since the recent water heater emergency make it difficult to travel around my room. I don’t want to search through that mess for some clean clothes, but fortunately a semi-clean sweater is near the top of a pile. The jeans I find are a little worn, but they’ll do the trick. The pants and sweater are both rather tight fitting; I think they go well with my Chuck Taylor’s, beret, and green Army trench. I still haven’t shaved, but fuck it.

Just leaving the apartment, I realized I’d forgotten to bring a quarter for bus faire. I stopped in the 99¢ store to break a $10. They have Mt. Dew Pitch Black in cans for 25¢! I grabbed two of those and went outside to wait for the bus. I don’t think I missed the bus I’d planned on catching, but I had to wait until almost 12:45 before one arrived. Of course, once we got to Pecos I found out why; there was a bus broken down just after the intersection. All this of course meant I was a half hour late, but we were covered and not that busy.

Whew, so that’s why I haven’t updated since Wednesday.

Monday, January 10, 2005

Sunday, January 09, 2005

In Annie Hall, Alvy and Annie never say "I love you". Is it that Groucho Marx joke (never wanting to join a club that would have you for a member)?

Friday, January 07, 2005

Monday, January 03, 2005

My friends Mat and Alan came in for the New Year’s celebration. I haven’t seen them in a while (well we stopped by Mat’s on the way to Coachella but that’s it.) Mat brought some homebrew absinthe that turns your poop green for days. In a fit of insanity, he drank over 10 shots of vodka in under an hour. He spent the next few hours babbling about god knows what (he was completely indecipherable) and sort of stumbling around. I could tell how drunk he was so I babysat him while Alan and my roommate went to the Crown and Anchor. Of course we spent a lot of time at Cheers playing pool and drinking. They were impressed by Roberto’s insanity nachos of doom, so perhaps they’ll come back soon. NYE we walked outside, flanked by another friend who’d come over to visit, and then made our way first to Cheers then to the Double Down. I got fairly drunk, surprise surprise; all that Jagermeister. We didn’t stay too long, however. The walk back is a bit of a blur. I think Mat was trying to climb a fence and I was holding my friend’s hand and having a fun time. I hope I wasn’t too “forward”, but I’m sure she would have told me if I had been; or at least kicked me in the nuts. We sent Alan hurdling towards the airport last night and Mat toward the bus station this morning. It was all lots of fun.

Saturday, January 01, 2005

Blessings on the hand of women!
Fathers, sons, and daughters cry,
And the sacred song is mingled
With the worship in the sky--
Mingles where no tempest darkens,
Rainbows evermore are hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

-William Ross Wallace

Insert bad joke here.