(no subject)
I have a fucking pretentious milk frother for making lattes with, a new quilt/throw from India, and a friend who is not conscious but is out of the emergency surgery and am in receipt of regular updates thanks to a large number of his other friends having the same "must do something, cannot do anything, will disseminate information and organise everyone" response that I do. Am so far just forwarding these to other relevant parties. Work starts again tonight so there's little else I can do; tomorrow evening I have planned (postponed twice) drinks before work with a friend who works at the hospital he's at. As a pathologist.
I know I wanted them to meet up because I thought they'd get on (similar tastes in comics, rugby, ass-kicking women, and music) but right now I'm just fucking hoping their paths don't cross for any professional reason.
Despite Lindsay making a gargantuan effort to get the message through to the therapists that I was categorically not going to have my feelings poked today, I have an answerphone message from one of them asking where the fuck I got to, basically, which I didn't get until it was too late to call back and explain to him that the secretaries at the hospital are fucking stupid. I am acutely aware that, given my condition and the things I am being treated for he may be worried that I am dead, which under the current circumstances actually does bother me because it turns out not knowing if someone is dead FUCKING SUCKS. [ref. the incident in November when different friend, in America, poisoned himself and there was no way to find out where he was or if he'd been taken to hospital in time].
This marks three instances of "friend disappears into hospital & limbo between life and death" so far, I am keen to just not ... have them keep doing this. Although still a marked improvement on The Shitty Year Of Suicides, I suppose.
To Recap:
1. After a week of compulsive socialising I am exhausted, have not been able to catch up on sleep sufficiently, and will probably die of tired at work tonight.
2. Drinks (I suspect non-alcoholic as I still feel like I'm sweating toxins from Saturday night's "just don't bother keeping an eye on how much you're drinking because it's not like you've been substituting insatiable alcohol consumption for self-harm lately or anything whoops" session) tomorrow evening.
3. I kind of want to climb outside of myself and outside of time like some sort of chronological lizard shedding my skin and just ... lie in a cold pond for a bit. Doesn't go too well with the lizard thing but I feel too gross to happily be warm.
4. I made really good soup. I'm proud of the soup.
5. Not so much crying today. More information, less panicking (although a missed call on my phone = immediate freakout).
6. In a way I feel really lucky that most of my friends are also friends with Doug. It makes it easier to know that we're all kind of holding our collective breath, and no one's going to expect anyone else to just PLAY NICE and CHEER UP.
7. I hope his sister's okay.
I know I wanted them to meet up because I thought they'd get on (similar tastes in comics, rugby, ass-kicking women, and music) but right now I'm just fucking hoping their paths don't cross for any professional reason.
Despite Lindsay making a gargantuan effort to get the message through to the therapists that I was categorically not going to have my feelings poked today, I have an answerphone message from one of them asking where the fuck I got to, basically, which I didn't get until it was too late to call back and explain to him that the secretaries at the hospital are fucking stupid. I am acutely aware that, given my condition and the things I am being treated for he may be worried that I am dead, which under the current circumstances actually does bother me because it turns out not knowing if someone is dead FUCKING SUCKS. [ref. the incident in November when different friend, in America, poisoned himself and there was no way to find out where he was or if he'd been taken to hospital in time].
This marks three instances of "friend disappears into hospital & limbo between life and death" so far, I am keen to just not ... have them keep doing this. Although still a marked improvement on The Shitty Year Of Suicides, I suppose.
To Recap:
1. After a week of compulsive socialising I am exhausted, have not been able to catch up on sleep sufficiently, and will probably die of tired at work tonight.
2. Drinks (I suspect non-alcoholic as I still feel like I'm sweating toxins from Saturday night's "just don't bother keeping an eye on how much you're drinking because it's not like you've been substituting insatiable alcohol consumption for self-harm lately or anything whoops" session) tomorrow evening.
3. I kind of want to climb outside of myself and outside of time like some sort of chronological lizard shedding my skin and just ... lie in a cold pond for a bit. Doesn't go too well with the lizard thing but I feel too gross to happily be warm.
4. I made really good soup. I'm proud of the soup.
5. Not so much crying today. More information, less panicking (although a missed call on my phone = immediate freakout).
6. In a way I feel really lucky that most of my friends are also friends with Doug. It makes it easier to know that we're all kind of holding our collective breath, and no one's going to expect anyone else to just PLAY NICE and CHEER UP.
7. I hope his sister's okay.