Wednesday, Nov. 05, 2003 / 8:21 p.m.

~Happy For Dave, But I'm Low Down and Blue~

This is one of those 'let me get this over with' kind of entries. I have the 'run over by a truck' feeling again, and I'm beginning to think HIV again, which is something I haven't thought of in a long, long time. And I need to get tested again, I know, because then I could know for sure. Until then, I think it's a possibility. It just feels like my immunity is constantly compromised. Like when I stay home for a while I'm fine, but I go out, especially to work, and I'm exhausted, I can't clear my throat, my eyeballs burn, my blood feels like it's boiling, my throat starts to hurt, all the same symptoms, with slight variations.

Maybe allergies, I don't know, maybe the smog, maybe the indoor toxins, maybe the dust. Either way, whatever it is, I'm only upright now because I ordered in some food and ate a lot of it, and eating makes me feel better, temporarily. I'm really tired of feeling sick so often though. It's such a low-grade thing too, it never really amounts to anything significant, and it's not that I want it to, but this up and down and up again makes me a bit crazy.

It's the same with my moods, emotions, and that's probably contingent upon the physical rollercoastering that's going on beneath the surface.

But, I was going to go to a charity dining event in town tonight, actually simultaneously going on at many participating restaurants, restaurants donating, all day today, 20% of the tabs to this particular charity that delivers meals to those infected with HIV, and AIDS, and other restrictive illnesses. I did it last year, ate with Penelope and Shawn, from work, and used Penelope's birthday as the excuse, even paid for half her dinner (I wrote all about it here too - it's in the glorious archives), but this year? I was going to go alone, to my favorite bistro, but then I got really depressed towards the end of the work day.

I started to feel really weak and ill, I wanted sex at lunch, then I just wanted to be touched, and then I just wanted to be cared for, loved, and then I began to think no one will ever love me, and I began to regret losing so many friends over the years, and though I'd called Sandy to invite him to dinner, he never called me back after I left a message on his answering machine.

I felt up and down and the same again, over and over, until I was totally undecided and wanted to wait to see if I'd hear back from Sandy. Then I drove home in a very dark and rainy rush hour and decided there was no way I'd leave my apartment once inside.

I ordered pizza and a big salad and sat on the sofa to watch the news, still, unable to move, one cat then another trying to make my lap her home.

So, no dining out for charity tonight, my tab wouldn't have been too great on my own anyway, I'd be better dashing off a check to them instead.

Thrashers are playing, and I was watching, but I felt a small burst of post-food energy and decided to write something here.

I stayed up fairly late last night, after sleeping late yesterday, got to see Dave's first monologue post-delivery of his child. Very sweet, funny, punchy, touching, and I'm very happy for him. I'm glad he showed a picture of the baby. He even ended by saying good night to him. I've been a fan of Dave's for years and years, maybe 22 or more, so I feel a little kinship with him, and this, along with his heart surgery, is a real milestone. It's just nice, that's all.

But see it adds to my own feeling of loneliness to think that Dave had a kid, Dave, the consummate bachelor, and I? No one in sight, not even any sex or kissing or touching, makes it kind of hard to imagine a late in life change of heart baby thing happening.

I'll be okay though.

Oh, the other thing is the novel. My novel sucks. It's so bad. I keep really losing faith that I can do it, or that I want to do it. And then I wonder if each of these entries might not be close to the daily goal of the NaNo particpants. I wonder if I write a cool 50,000 words here every month anyway. But I'm not a novelist, I never wanted to be one, I don't want to be one. I document, I journal, that's all I can do. And I can do it, I know this, look, two and a half years here, one year at LiveJournal, years and years in paper books and notebooks and calendars at home.

One more thing, I guess, for now. Bush is closer than ever to fulfilling whatever promise he made to whichever of his dad's friends, or campaign contributors or whatever, he's really closer than ever before to outlawing abortion completely. Be glad you're not a woman who may need one. And make sure you're not. Be careful.

And I printed out the entire transcript of last night's Democratic Presidential Candidate Forum for Kukla and Penelope to read, after I went in to work and wouldn't shut up about how cool I think Al Sharpton is, and how Kucinich is great, but he can never win, etc. Kukla read the whole thing, said she felt like she'd watched it, that she really, really liked it. I don't know if it helped her decide who she wants to win, but I'm glad I could share it with her.

I realize I am really turned on by Presidential politics, maybe politics in general. I get really excited by it all. I mean, I should've known, ever since the ERA was about to be ratified, back in the early '80s. Or my first pro-choice rally, or my first trip to a National Demonstration in D.C., or that time I went to the hotel ballroom in midtown, to watch the election returns and dance the bunny hop when Clinton won.

And that's not even counting the time I worked the '88 Democratic Convention, me, 'security' in the press box. Hah! Listening to Jesse Jackson's speech was amazing. BEING THERE was amazing. I do love politics, I admit it.

I'm going to go lie down now. Watch some more of the Thrashers game (I think we're winning), and "The Bachelor", and then I'm going to bed. Fuck the novel for tonight.

Cost of the War in Iraq
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