(no subject)
This is my brain.
Can anyone read this thing?
Got the CD from my sister this morning that has my brain scan images contained therein. My niece, who through an odd series of circumstances actually came to the MRI with me, picked up the CD when I dropped her at home, ostensibly, I guess, to have Uncle Jeff’s brain close by always. The MRI place was supposed to have mailed to me an official “reading” of the MRI within two days of having the test done, but I’ve not received anything yet. I’ll probably take the thing to Dr. Bobby tomorrow if there’s nothing in today’s mail.
It’s a superlatively beautiful day in Manhattan. I’m sitting in the palatial estate, the living room window wide open, watching the denizens of my fair city explore and discover the High Line. It would appear, thankfully, today is shirt-optional day and many fine specimens are airing out their pecs, pits and the occasional potbelly. I’m also fortunate enough to have a tree growing in the back courtyard of my building that provides a wonderful roost for city birds just outside my third floor window. This, thankfully, does not include pigeons. Pigeons don’t appear to enjoy trees-but mourning doves, finches, starlings and the like-do. If I never had to leave my apartment, New York would be a delightful place to live.
I’m about an hour away from my next detox dosage of happiness and I’m feeling kinda nasty, truth be told. There are roilings in my gut, my breathing is shallow, I sort of ache generally, I can’t get cool and I’m sweating like a pig, and I’m entirely restless-but not in a good way. This is one of the harder hours of the day: I know the symptoms will disappear in about 20 minutes if I just pop one little pill right now-one little pill from a bottle that has dozens of available little pills. But by doing that, I set myself back, so I’m trying to last the whole six hours. It’s no fun whatsoever.
Have I waxed eloquent lately about the wonders of freshly brewed iced tea? The golden ambered ambrosia sparkling around diamond ice, cataracts of condensation coating the the tall glass? And I don’t mean the vat of brown stuff some wank brews off by the gallon in the wee hours of the morning that sits in that perpetually uncleaned swirl tank behind the counter. I’m speaking of the process as much as the refreshment: the heating of the water, the lowering of the bag, the patience as the color devleops and swirls through the steaming water, the cracking and splitting as you pour the mild and bitter brew over ice cubes freshly pulled from the steaming freezer. Then that first sip-half warm, half cold-the promise of chilling refreshment to come…
Bunny is finishing off my breakfast: a sesame bagel, toasted dark, with a shmear of chopped liver and a fresh slice of tomato. She’s not a big fan of the bagel or tomato, but she’ll bite your hand clean off for some chopped liver, baby. The bagels at Brooklyn Bagel on 8th Avenue are the size of your head and I don’t know how people eat an entire one at a sitting. I ate just a little more than half of mine and decided Bunny would enjoy the rest more than me. I was right.
I rather stupidly stopped at Dunkin Donuts, too, ostensibly to get a plastic bag to carry my various parcels in whilst walking the dog, but I succumbed to the call of the Munchkin and walked out the door with a small box of the damn things. They’ve been my constant companions since. Who needs happy pills when one has poppable donuts?
I DO!!!!
I tried a “Hangout” on Google+ this morning-instigating a video chat room-but none of my Google+ people were around to hangout with me. Or perhaps they just didn’t want to. I can be a drag between pills, that’s for sure.
That’s all I’ve got for the moment. I’ll probably cave around the five hour mark and take the damn pill. That leaves me just 45 minutes to kill. Given I’ve massacred forty-four years already-what’s another 45 minutes?
EDIT: I wanted to report the return of my libido, finally, with a bit of a bang yesterday! I enjoyed myself thricely throughout the course of the day and even toyed with inviting a friend over last evening. It didn't come to pass, but it felt remarkably good to finally feel a kinship again with the little feller who lives between my thighs. He's still there, but just been napping...