My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

Okay, I was too mean to Bill Pullman, he did what he had to do. I should kill myself for watching Zero Effect, that’s more fair.

Fuck if I know why I’m posting this, but it’s a great article about a device that helps people with Asperger’s to better interpret facial gestures, and Sara’s an excellent writer.

So, I closed my eyes for what felt like moments, but when I opened  them again the clock said otherwise. Apparently, I slept three hours, an unheard-of nap. I haven’t been sleeping well lately, Ativan or not. Last night I was up until 5 AM and got up at 9:30 AM.

I went with a friend for something like brunch. We went to the Thai Temple, it’s an actual temple, but every Sunday they have a little market. I hadn’t been in awhile. It’s outdoors, on a river, with gorgeous trees for shade. Today it was cold under the trees and warm in the sun.

On the one hand, I really liked my company. She’s really cool, very smart. She reads this blog. On the other hand, and I have to write this, because no matter who reads this blog it needs to be an absolutely honest record of my thoughts, I’m not comfortable going back to the temple, and I won’t. I used to go with Sara, I can’t go there now and feel at all good about being there. I thought I could, but no. It’s too difficult for me to separate certain places from her. It’s so stupid, I’m so stupid.

Anyway, I had a nap and woke up tired. I usually wake up tired, it’s getting to be my way.

So, I have a friend who has a blog, and it’s a great blog, but she needs a break from it. She’s in the mood for some anonymity, a little extra creative freedom. To that end, she’ll be doing some guest blogging here, whatever pops into her head. 

I’ll be blogging as usual, I’ll just have some company from time to time.

I know I’m part of the problem, and I think I publicly vowed not to go back after Saw IV, but tonight I’ll be at Saw V. I don’t have it in me not to go, not the way I am just now. I’m a little empty, and I guess the empty violence comforts me.

So, last night I’m at game 1 of the Major League Baseball World Series when a 70ish year-old fellow says regarding me, “he looks like he’s about to go belly up.” To which I think, “thank you, you made the blog.

A drunk girl really liked my poppy tattoo, that’s always fun. I get compliments from sober people too, but the drunk people are special.

I feel like half of me is somewhere else all the time, and I Goddamn fucking hate it. I’m not supposed to feel like this, but fuck if I can stop it. It’s so stupid, not to mention exhausting. It never stops.

Apparently, today, October 21st is “Not talking to Mike” day. I accidentally noticed the day on a Google Calendar. I guess I’m flattered to have an entire calendar day devoted to me being socially outcast, but I see potential inconveniences. I have a doctor’s appointment today, that could be weird. I guess she could read the chart aloud to no one in particular, but direct questions seem out. I’m also having dinner with a friend tonight, that could be awkward. I suppose she could talk to my assistant, so long as neither of them talks to me.

Though, there are people I don’t want to talk to, so today could be relaxing too. Generally, I’m upbeat about “Not talking to Mike” day. I think that in many ways it will bring people together.

The fresh trache is in and it really went quite smoothly, some pain, but the drugs were very kind.

Now, I have other problems to tackle. Boredom. Loneliness. Oh, and Darfur.

So, in a few hours I have another trache change, and I’m nervous about it. I’m always nervous.

I tried talking to Sara, but, silence. I shouldn’t have tried, but I guess I couldn’t not. She’s always been my last thought in the O.R. before the drugs take me happily away. I wish I hadn’t been such a fuck up, but I can’t go back. No one can go back. I’m not strong, or brave, and I hate that I’m not. I should have been better, but I wasn’t.

I want to wake up in that druggy bliss, but if I don’t, that’d be okay. I’m really tired.