Settler words&music in S'ólh Téméxw, (leanpub.com/upsun) living where privilege meets precarity in MST country. she/her/they———– Novels: Midnite Moving Co., Upsun; Sweep Off Those Waves coming soon, Hair Sinister after that. —Restore All Indigenous Lands!
woke up around 1:30 in much less pain than the new normal so I’m taking it as a good sign.
Somebody made me think to repost all the fanfic I took down. I’m pondering it.
Ultrasound in 6 hours. Not being able to eat (or drink) between now and then will be a trial but I’m also thinking I’m going to eat a completely swinish late breakfast on the Drive somewhere if I’m not too messed up for it. It’s mere blocks from the clinic.
I have been advised by a close friend to get colonic hydrotherapy to treat my condition (which is as yet undiagnosed).
Yanno, sometimes ya gotta laugh to keep from crying.
‘Cause every difficulty in my life could be solved if only, if only, a special someone would stick a nozzle up my ass.
Ultrasound tomorrow morning, other tests today if I can actually get it together to leave the frickin’ house.
Paul and Lois are off to Ontario. Their dedication to seeing their elderly mother is very heartening and they’ll also be doing the sibling and nibling thing.
Watched a number of excellent films this past week: Baby Driver, The 100 year old man who climbed out of a window and disappeared, and Brainstorm (Natalie Wood’s last movie).
Quitting alcohol has definitely helped. My sleep is very interrupted still though.
I have about three or four hours a day when my tummy hurts too much for me to want to do anything but lie perfectly still, except of course I can’t get comfortable.
Mike and Keith were over a couple of days ago and that was delightful.
I am genuinely sick. There’s something seriously wrong – literally minutes after my bloodwork came back the doc wanted to see me. I’m seeing doctors and getting moar tests. With luck, this was all triggered by a treatable infection. Without luck, the next part of my life is going to suck, hoo boy.
Plus pain. That’s never fun.
she has weathered like a mountain he has shrunken like an apple
she has raged against the dimming light he has said o is it getting darker
she has been and gone he is done and dusted
she is a scandalous matriarch in a purple glass throne he is a perpetually surprised jester / major domo
she gets up in the morning he scowls at consciousness with weary contempt
she fills her days with pixels he fills his days with pixels
they fill their days with medical appointments and fixing the past
in the memories of these twitchy people from the future
this little boy
As I pursue a diagnosis, I had to put some poop in a bottle.
which takes me back to the good old days
When I was working reception at Employee Health as a summer job at UH, the dietary department experienced a hepatitis outbreak, which, holy shitbags, you really don’t want in a hospital dietary staff group. So of course in those days (1980 ish) you needed a largish chunk of hinder-end donations to go in a bottle for testing.
The weekend staff left their deposits on the Employee Health main entrance desk, in a large array of paper bags, some of which had definitely experienced a higher degree of structural integrity in the recent past.
My supervisor came in and, glaring fit for the movies said loudly, GET THIS SHIT OFFA MY DESK. Supervisors didn’t swear in those days so it was hella cute.
These days they give you a container about the size of ten stacked bobby pins, tell you DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES GET URINE OR TOILET WATER ON THIS and then you stab your shit with the spiralized end and get just enough shit on it to say that you did, because they don’t want any more if it than that. None of that shit now.
I have to eat something and then not eat something to go get my helicobacter breath test. blerg.
It’s probably an ulcer. I’ve been diagnosed with IBS as well.
More later.
Today I adulted by getting up and writing a shopping list, since Jeff and I are going shopping.
I worked on ‘the doorbell rang’ chapter and blocked out some stuff, total around 150 words but the wordage doesn’t reflect the work put in, as is often the case.
Sixers can give consent in one language but not another. That sure makes legal questions difficult.
Started The Blacklist on Netflix.
I’m doing an SF AU Destiel fic, and somebody should run me over with a truck.
I have such a craving to see 3 Caballeros.
Well well well, there are civil war re-enactresses.
I’m hoping to write today. Tomorrow I go see the doc about the six weeks of griping abdominal pain and bloating I’ve had. I suspect incipient hernia, either that or I’m dying of something quite unpleasant. I’m wearing my back brace in the meantime and feel somewhat better.
My bedroom floor is still clean! Still have more sorting and tidying and mostly dejunking but the trend is good.
I’d just like to say FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU to the fucking doctors who prescribe meds for BPH to MEN I LOVE without telling them that the side effects are COMPLETE PANCAKING OF LIBIDO, MENTAL DULLNESS AND YOU CAN’T GIVE BLOOD UNTIL SIX MONTHS AFTER YOU STOP TAKING IT.
Honestly. Fuck all y’all.
Stanislav Petrov, the Man Who Saved The World, whom I first wrote about here in April 2005, has passed away. I always toast him if there’s vodka about.
Sean Spicer getting a gig at the Emmys must have been like a punt to the grunt for any BIPoCs there. Fuck whoever decided to hire him, hard, with spiky shit.
I have lots to screech about this morning, but I’m going to write instead.
I’m at the Aerie, and the world is a blur of Turneresque clouds with a hint of sun somewhere. Mike took me to Chronic Taco last night and I had the salad bowl with beef and a draft Parallel 49, which was absolutely what I wanted.
I’ve been promised breakfast. I’ve already broken into the Starbucks hot chocolate so I’m ready to wait another couple of hours before Mike achieves consciousness. I’ve been up since 5:30.
Wrote 453 words yesterday and today… who knows!
I need a substitute for awesome right fucking now.
Paul took Jeff and I to breakfast at IHOP, it was delightful.
Writing now. I’ll check back in three hours. wordcount 453 – working on Harri’s soliloquy
We had a lovely visit to the fOlks’ place. The pterodactyls visited the bird feeder, we went for a lovely walk to the playground by the ocean, we had a meal at Sassy’s and we went to the Butterfly Sanctuary. Little E was not in evidence.
Alex is a really lovely human being, but man, he needs to get enough sleep.
On the cards for today, laundry and getting my desk set up properly for production of WURDZ, unpacking from trip and meal planning.
mOm had ALL OF HER DESCENDENTS in one place, although not at the same time, yesterday. Jeff headed back yesterday, and we arrived – Paul, me, Katie, Keith and Alex. It was made even more wonderful by the presence of Auntie Mary. The wasband says that he tried six times to use audio search on Google to find something and all six times my aunt started talking before Paul could get it to search
Today we go to Sassy’s, the butterfly house and then the ferry to go home. It was a lovely lovely visit and I’m looking forward to renewing my love affair with Little E the Eclecticus Parrot.
Back’d up ye harde drive.
Cleaning of my room continues. There’s so much floor the kitties are pacing and mewing their disapproval.
Called friends.
Back to the horrors of cleaning.