The hardcopy version of my book is on sale through Amazon. The link is on the side-bar.
I’m preoccupied with other things right now, but soon I’d like to do readings at these places:
Indian Road Café
The Blue Stocking Book Store
The Nuyorican Poet’s Café
and maybe some other places.
Processing the things that I’m preoccupied with is normal, so I’m not overwhelmed, I’m just moving more slowly, so that I can think clearly. In yesterday’s post I mentioned being in possession of myself. This means I can face what I am thinking and respect the way that I process things. I have some trepidation, but it’s fine. It will all die out as the days pass. As long as I have love and the vast universe to guide my thoughts, it’s all good.
Can you put me in a medically induced coma? For the last month I have been waiting for some news to come by May 9th, so this last week has been murder. The sand is running out of the hour glass. May 9th is nigh, and I exist with a frantic edge. I’m afraid I can’t tell you what I’m waiting for at this time. If I told you, I’d have to — you know the rest. I’m not waiting for the results of a medical test thank goodness.
The medically induced coma would put my evil mind to rest during this waiting period. My mind inflicts my body with odd little glitches and a vague malaise. Having experienced neurosis-driven conditions before, I suspect that this waiting for May 9th period (along with a few other issues) has quite a bit to do with my insomnia and the one or two other physical things happening to me that I won’t even bother to get into.
In my early twenties, suddenly I couldn’t swallow food – except for sweets (very tell-tale about this so-called ‘swallowing condition’) – and anyone who knows me well knows that I’d rather eat cake than food – fuck food. (The going out and getting it, the energy used to balance your diet, killing it, cooking it, taking an hour to eat it – what a pain!) I went to the doctor, who prescribed a lovely medication. The pill allowed me to swallow food once more, and it also made me unusually mellow. I called the doctor to find out what was in the pill and he told me that it was phenobarbital (I was a dumb kid who didn’t think to ask what was in it before he prescribed it – if I had known I wouldn’t have taken it).
This was a lesson about my neurosis. I have seen as well what stress does to other people, what sicknesses they contract because of it, so I just remind myself of this mind-body connection, hoping that my body will eventually see the dirty little trick that my mind has been playing (Or is this the other way around?).
I’ve seen what some fellow bloggers in the sphere have lived through so I know I can do it. But I’ll do it with a slight sense of hell… In the interim, I must remember to be kind, helpful, and compassionate to people, to be of service – it’s not all about me — but it is all about me dammit. Thanks for listening.