I Didn’t Need to See That Bread a Second Time

There's not much hope for your day when you begin it at 4:45 am, slumped over a garbage can in the bathroom, watching the bread you just ate to settle your starving stomach coming back up.

This was how my Wednesday began. I went to bed on an empty stomach because I just wasn't in the mood to eat after my filling Vietnamese lunch on University. There were some hunger pains at 2 am but I ignored them to go to sleep. But at 4, they woke me up and I went to get a piece of bread. An innocent choice, I thought, for how hard on one's empty stomach can a simple piece of generic wheat bread be? Until this time, I prided myself on never having vomited without the aid of alcohol. Ok, there was the anasthesia after my gall bladder surgery.

Nevertheless, for some strangely random reason still unbeknownst to me, I threw up this morning. Regurgitated. Ralphed. Hurled. That's some nasty shit. And the worst thing of all is that the baby-like behavior I was exhibiting was not noticed. We all like to be taken care of when we're sick, right? Oh well.

The same thing happened to Paige last week, except she got a cold, too. I started feeling cold pains this morning, but I've got a friend coming for the weekend and I absolutely must fight it. And of course, there was the gyno appointment I could not miss. So I was not going to succumb to flu-like symptoms. So far so good.My stomach is bothering me a bit now but hopefully it'll be ok when I wake up. Speaking of the gyno, I would like to take this opportunity to mention that I have a beautiful cervix. These words came straight out of the woman's mouth. I wonder if I can put that on my bio somewhere, anywhere. It reminds me of that gall bladder surgery (two mentions in one post?) when the assistant surgeon said I had nice gall stones. She said they looked like Dungeons and Dragons game pieces. I asked her if I could see them but she said no.

I'm thinking I should donate my body to science if I ever die. Apparently my organs are veritable works of art. Ok, enough of my body and its fluids. Not much else is going on actually. I did an interview, talked to a friend with a new haircut on the phone, and decided that, for Steve Towns' sake, I'm going to talk about something gay related for the next month every single time I post something. Ellen Degeneres is on HBO on Saturday. I can't see it, though, which sucks. So if you have HBO, watch it. I think they filmed two nights. I went on the Thursday night of filming and I sat on Ellen's right in the middle section in the orchestra (on the floor of the theatre). And I think I was wearing a blue shirt. And I was on the very end of the aisle. It's not a gay-themed show. In fact, she's trying to get away from being the gay comedian.

I've been really interested in this Michigan affirmative action ruling for the last couple of days. I've been engaged in numerous conversations about my beliefs on what affirmative action actually is. And so when I was watching the news today and saw that Sandra Day O'Connor and myself agree, I felt good. I'm not gonna soap box here because that's not why I write. You can get the opinions in the newspapers. I just wanted to mention that me and Sandra were cool.

By the way, it's hot now. I sit and I sweat. I at least wish I was playing basketball so the sweat would be warranted. It's crazy. I'm just gonna sit back and experience it, as this will be my first New York summer. But then again, I will miss three weeks of it so it may not count. But today was pretty crazy. And I heard it wasn't even that humid. Can't wait.

I finally finished Freud. I'm relieved. What a smart man he was. But I'm growing weary of citing his theory every other hour when I'm having a simple conversation about something. "Sublimation," "inversion," and "reaction-formation" are only some of the terms in my head.

I need to write about them or their meanings will dissipate into the vast recesses of my mind never to be heard from again. Next up: Michel Foucault's History of Sexuality, Volume I.  All right. I'm no longer inspired. I'm not happy with the recent overall quality of my writing. I'm going to go find some other kind of writing to appease my need for expression right now.