Archive | March 2011

THE DAY OF REST MY ASS!

13:54 3/27/11.

SUNDAY. THE DAY OF REST, MY ASS.

So. I’m in bed.

Uhgain.

Hot.

Thrashing.

I’ve got an ice pack over my chest & another, curled around my neck like a baby snake.

I am aware of my Cluster Headache, approaching level 6.

Grrreat.

And I’m Kicking.

MORE Withdrawls.

It’s ” Girl Interrupted” vs “Trainspotting.” vs “The Exorcist.” (levitation)

I’m in enough agony to not care that I’m making like a crazy person.

My noises?

They are more … “mewing” then crying. At times? Keening, maybe.

(Le Drama: oy. Bad, Body, Bad!)

But I’m tryin to cope, rite?

So. I’m iced. I’m listening 2 my chillax tunes, tailormade c/o “Lightning Bug” for Android. I program to soothe: rain, crickets, lightning …

-I had to remove sounds of ocean waves, though ( it’s true, what they say about the sound of water.)

-I’m deep breathing. Doing some “Jin Shin” (self-help/mind-body energy work) on myself. And … I’m starting to feel my pulse come down… Miracle.

(The blood pressure meds gently aided the process. I admit. Better Living Thru Chemicals??? IDK.)

I am finally coming to a Happy Place…drifting…

When, suddenly:

“Hey Baby, Hey Baby,Hey!!!!”

bursts into the Calm!!

Huh?

I didn’t set that up.

After nearly falling outta bed?

-I start laughing.

-Guess I set a 30 min alarm.

So now

…I’m hearing No Doubt, crickets, lightning and rain.  I scramble to MAKE IT STOP. Cacophony is no good for Headache.

Aaannnd

… on comes ” I Kissed A Girl.”

With a side of Rain.

I start thinking about the hooks in both songs.

Production.

Lyrics.

IMHO, (in my humble opinion), you can’t go wrong with No Doubt. I believe Gwen’s performance, I love the layers of sound, love the story. 

The band are brilliant.

Katy Perry?

Bangin beat.

Obviously, love the story. (You can reference me v. Katy insofar as my take on the content … in a competitive way … in one of my Spring 2010 blogs … I kinda one-upped her…but hey, her track hit before mine did. The only hitting I did was the floor. With my face. From a stroke. Fuck.)

Back to the track: the hook is hella monotonous. The whole song has the same four on the floor vibe from the vocals to the beat.

Mostly.

I really like the sexy, just-smoked-vocal. Strong.

Not as interpretively sophisticated as Gwen. But a bouncy song that, overall works for me.

-One last thing on that…

I don’t know about you ladies, but when I * do* goclubbing?

I sho’ as shit ain’t wearing no Chapstick-cherry or not.

-It’s glam lips all the way.

Or nothing, in which case, I’m bare because it’s been kissed off.

Yum.

Whoot!

***

I’m still in bed.

The kickin has abated for now.

Headache is still on in my noggin.

Unfortunately, now?

I’m crying because I miss music so much.

It actually hurts. Like … a breakup. I know life will never be the same.

But I knew that.

Doesn’t mean my life can’t be fabulous again.

I just … it’s not playing out right. I thought I’d feel better, in SOME way, 3 months post-op.

Anyway.

I’m better than I was an hour ago.

& With this little bit of fire left in my belly, I think:

“I’ma do my own remix of the track(s).”

I think I’ll callit:

“Hey, I Kissed a Girl …in the Rain, Baby.”

-yes?

-no?

xox,

B

***

AIRPORT LOVE TAP

Mar 25, 2011 11:48 AM

AIRPORT LOVE TAP:

 

At LAX, yesterday, Chatty Kathi (no, really, her name was Kathi) was pushing me thru the terminal in a wheelchair.

As we motoredalone, I happened to notice an empty baby stroller.

After a delayed reaction – during which I pondered the freakish comparison between the two modes o’ Transpo – I suddenly thought:

“Bomb!”

As in,”Never-leave-your-luggage-unattended-why-should-a-baby-stroller-be-any-different-maybe-there’s-a-bomb-in-there-bomb?”

-Now, there’s a Time and a Place for *voicing* such *observations.*-Ideally? You pay attention to whether or not you are using your “Out Loud” Voice in said circumstances.

-Ideally?

This is NOT WHEN YOU are being wheeled to The SECURITY Line.

Late.

For your Flight.

 

-SHIIIIT…

 

I earned myself a nice TSA RUB-DOWN FOR THAT ONE. 

(I didn’t get a Happy Ending, but I did make my flight. With 51 seconds to spare!)

 

-Whoot!!

 

FLYAWAY BUS

March 24th 11:15am

 

FLYAWAY BUS:

VAN NUYS to LAX: 10AM

Round Trip Fare: $28.00.

Plane Tickets: LAX 2 SJC: $$ 2 DANGMUCH

-Playing “Punchbuggy PRIUS” © w/ Ted: Free.

…2)Number of PRIUS’ counted in 3 miles: 17.

3) Number of BruisesAccrued: None.

4) ARRIVING ON TIME: Priceless.

 

DON’T DO DRUGS, M’KAY?

“DON’T DO DRUGS, M’KAY?”

Friday, 3/24/11 12 PM


Hey, Y’all! …Well, I’m beat. Just finished an appointment. I swear, I really think I should be the one getting paid for this. It is like a full time job. And don’t they pay people to do trials and stuff?

Sheesh. Well, the last thing I want is more drugs on my plate. So.


Ix-Nay on the Ial-Tray. Obe-Kay-Be?

 

I wanted 2 say this: I’m cautiously positive about momentum – it happening, I mean. As opposed to stasis. On on that note, I’m gonna TRY 2 start keeping you apprised of the 411 with me.

Via shorter messages.

 

(I do this on Facebook, FYI: bettypower*)

 

Anyhoo: I’ve done a micro V-log regarding the progress (& setbacks) I’ve faced this trip so far.

 

Now, the challenge: to start posting -in *real time.*

But 4 now? Must sleep. Wait. I wanted to tell you what happened first. THEN, Sleep.

(Body, I promise!!)

 

Just saw Dr.B: uh-mazing.

This trip has “paid” 4 itself already.

 

We have a new TX plan 2 help me with several issues. First among them: the radical physiological drama I’ve been facing since “tapering” off a very serious medication.

Between that, and adjunctively trying a non-narcotic alternative RX (which neatly f!@k*d me up, further-over an ugly 6 week trial, which only ended a few weeks ago), I’ve been in extra-special agony, in every way!

 

Go,Team.

 

Overall, Dr. B’s suggestions are good. It’s refreshing 2 feel we are working as collaborators, rather than just having an MD giving me directives.

 

The downside of our appt was learning I’ve got 2 accept that the NEXT 2 WEEKS will see me in a similar state of duress, even with the new tx options available 2 me.

 

In other Good News: She’s agreed 2 let me try an unusual approach: going without using a “prophylactic” RX for my Neuropathic Painfor a 6-week trial.

 

We’ll meet again then to assess and address.

 

So, for today? My body is clear and free of 2 more meds. (17 more to go! -JK!!!!!) No New Drugs for pain! Oh. …Except OXYGEN. -Wait.

Does That COUNT???

 

Thanks for your love and support.

xox

B

SATANFORD – IN A BIND

March 21st 6:21pm

 

 

I’m making my trek North this wk (for critical MD appts/3 month follow-up, *post-op.*)

 

IN A BIND.

 

My patron has, sadly -& abruptly- had 2 rescind his offer 2 cover the associated costs.

-Anyone Got A Paddle?

xox

B

 

 

PS: GAWD, I hate asking for help.

-Good Times, Good Times.

THE NIGHT SIDE OF THE MOON

02:30 AM – 03:57 AM

20 March, 2011

 

“THE NIGHT SIDE OF THE MOON”

I can’t sleep.

PAIN.

Tears run down my face, I forget to breathe, my actual eyeballs BURN.

 

Anxiety floods my thoughts, as I consider my predicament with regard for mind to promises made and broken – with no apparent regard consideration for, or attention to, the subsequent consequences.

 

With regard to my welfare, I am still … painfully reliant upon others.

In times of pain, when I come to realize this, I am frightened. The very treatment I must seek depends too heavily upon their goodwill, generosity and their very veracity.

But I am powerless to change a thing at this late hour: there is consolation in the possibility of tomorrow.

Perhaps I will discover my friends’ sudden dismissal of the very important issue between us was only my imagination and fear run riot.

I have fretted away the night, frittering away my precious sleep in exchange for attentions pointed at this chronic pain, compounded by the new layer of pain borne of (the anticipation of) certain betrayal.

There is, I see, greater energy to spend giving my attentions to this very moment.

To the possibilities of NOW.

It is peace of mind I seek, rather than the hungry and restless mind.

I see the role I play in my own madness, my discomfort.

And so, only now, do I use discipline to turn my thoughts -with mighty effort- to greater and lesser things.

Sanity is (or can be) a choice…

***

Insomnia happens.

Disappointment happens, too.

I find myself holding my breath again.

“So what?” I think.

“Now what?” I reply.

I begin this meditation, finding it funny and logical and effective in stilling the drama in my mind.

I use this phrase as a mantra and at some point I realize I’ve lost count of the number of inhalations, and that the meaning of the words means little more than gibberish.

As soon as I realize this, my “peace of mind” seems to evacuate the proverbial building that is my mind.

 

Oh well:

It was lovely while it lasted.

Nothing has to be brilliant or special, even. That is the point, I guess.

If I experience either, I guess that puts me ahead of the curve.

Right?

-Well. Maybe not from a Buddhists’ perspective; attachment to anything visceral or ephemeral is the number one perpetrator when it comes to the notion of Human Suffering.

Still: I love how I feel when I feel. Even when it hurts.

I love beauty.

I love stillness.

-Man.

I guess I’m just doomed.

To suffer.

Then again, to a greater or lesser extent, I wonder if this isn’t just a question of semantics?

My beliefs are ever-evolving.

And life keeps pressing on in it’s own linear way…

***

Tonight is …. just another night, which is a day with rain patting the pavement as if it were the work of the hands of children -tapping, tap tap tapping .. and trains hooting in the distance –

Yes. This is the life of night.

Quiet.

But for the sound of my breathing, there is only the occasional baby-like cry of the dog, the whump of his tail as he dreams, I imagine, of play.

Last, there are the clicks and snaps of my clocks -both manual, of course – which run in discordant concert, each out of time with the other.

Time passes too slowly -like sludge, or molasses, the minutes far more like hours than segments of seconds, ticking from one to sixty and then again and again and again.

The moon was fantastic tonight.

I watched it with awe borne from knowing tonight was only to reveal its particular mysteries but once in my lifetime.

 

I stood, transfixed, as it made it’s its first appearance low on the horizon in the dusky light of evening.

 

-I felt I could make out the slight, but marked, asymmetrical ridges along the unbroken line comprising that plump, whole sphere.

-Those subtle imperfections, which demarcated the otherwise genuine circle… evidence of a different life, once upon a long long long long time before this. Now.

A time when the clutter and debris of Space took it’s inevitable toll upon our own planet, the event so inescapable, so jarring … that what is now our Moon was cast from it’s home, a fallen Idol, out of the atmosphere and forever after only a light in the night sky, nevermore to join again in body with it’s one true body?

Strange, it is, to imagine the Moon, the stuff of songs and bedtime stories, was once part of this very Earth?

 

Stealing so much life, snuffed out like the flame of a single candle in a storm of hail and ice – a catastrophe unlike any other – life lost, for millenia millennia. Who could have imagined the life which would someday thrive again, instead?

 

Surely not in that cataclysmic moment, when ore met ore, when the sky rained boulders and bricks and iron, copper, and minerals formed the rage which came down like cities to the very foundation of our planet, wrenching it apart like the Jaws of Life seizing fragile human-ness from the wreckage of a bold mass of metal and glass.

One evening, once in a lifetime, to see it so close – and to see so clearly you’d think you might just get a ladder and touch the dark spot on the lower right corner where once Men walked upon its’ surface.

To imagine what our Moon was like when it was still part of our Earth.

Before it was cast out to the vast space of Space.

Before yet more space debris slammed into it and spun so hard, it rotated 180 degrees.

Tonight was a reminder of the importance of ritual, of cycles and seasons: I only hope I might always hold, in my short lifespan, to these moments. To give myself over to wonder and joy with innocence, abandon…

They are truly reminders of what a Gift it can be to be Human. Conscious. Alive, inside, out, head to toe, body to soul.

xox

B