TMi

blurred image of author signing books. original photo by: Cat I met a famous writer once in New York. It was at a book reading. When the event was coming to a close, I was cajoled into the 'meet and greet' line. I didn't want to queue up. That wasn't how I wanted to meet this writer. Standing in line, I was not a person. In that position I was a fanatic ; with a slight pejorative feeling to the word. It's an itchy label to wear sometimes.  One more person to make the line longer, I was part of the fan gauntlet. This is not a fair kind of meeting. For either party. At the time he had a finger injury; a break, I believe. I do clearly recall that he made a point to tell everyone not to shake his hand. For the obvious splinted reason. Feeling like a complete fool jacked up on the usual influences: caffeine, cortisol mostly; I waited for my turn to meet this renowned individual. Ugh. Be still my conflicted thoughts and feelings. When my time came to stand before the man ...

flea bites and rash all over the torso The saga of tm's questionable health continues. Tests came back positive for Bartonella. Due to my wonderful  third world living circumstances, I contracted a new bacterial infection from fleas brought into the house by a kitten. The kitten was brought into the house by a certain SOME ONE. No one else has been effected by the bacteria. Just me. Just me because I was the one trying to build myself up after a year dealing with Brucella only to then be given the gift of COVID (thanks to SOME ONE) and while trying to recover from that, Bartonella took the opportunity to walk right on into my system. I fought it valiantly for two months. By April, I felt almost the way I did when I had Brucellosis. I saw a doctor. I traveled to New Jersey/NYC keeping myself going with herbs. And then the fun really began! As soon as I started taking antibiotics, the ever delightful Jarisch-Herxheimer Reaction took center stage. But no one warned me about it so I ...

Into June, into insomnia.  Along with a host of other symptoms that indicate a bacterial infection, I am doing juuust "splendidly." I have been a year and a half of my life under trash clouds threatening refuse deluges knowing- more or less- that it's because of bacterial infection. As I told one of my brothers recently in a chat, knowing is not half the battle, in this case.  This brother has also dealt with a testy bacterial infection. His version happened to be tick-borne Lyme. Coincidentally, he's anxious about recent reinfection and is waiting on test results himself.   Go Team Antibiotic!  Let's say, just staying upright and communicating coherently is more like half the battle here for me. I might seem sharp enough, but I'm struggling through like I've had half a tequila bottle. Chewing the glass and all.   So I fasted and trucked myself off to have seven vials of blood drawn- by seven dwarves and sent to seven underground labs... no wait. no. T...

Today is my 40th birthday.  I am not a very happy person.  I woke up in a modern (crap) hotel room in New Jersey instead of some ancient palazzo in Venice Italy. I was supposed to be in Venice. Venice was promised to me twice now and each time it's magically removed from the equation. This last time Hugo suddenly got a show at Mana Contemporary so all the plans changed. Once again. And there was nothing I could do about any of it. I've been away from Mexico for over a week now, but I am still in a kind of cocoon. I haven't reached out to anyone or made any big plans. Being sick strips you of your ability to make plans. The biggest thing I did was buy tickets to see a Lingua Ignota concert in Manhattan on May 8th; a birthday present- to myself. It was a risk, but it was one I was willing to make. To see the best thing that has ever come out of Del f*ing Mar perform live has been the brightest part of my trip so far.  While Hugo paints walls and advances his career,...

Image Source:  Engin Akyurt  from  Pexels . Edited by tm Looking at the rest of the year now and everything is tinged with dread- Dread, the other weighted blanket!  I am not looking forward to anything any more this year. I am not excited about events coming up in my life.  I am not happy about any of the trips I will be taking.  I am not being creative.   There is no creativity here.   There is no talent here.   There is nothing here. I am not thrilled about turning forty.  What have I lived this long for?  My anxiety/depression is getting worse. My PMDD is getting worse.  I want to be dead.  Death will come soon enough. I've tried so hard. I don't know why I am trying any more.  Please tell me how I have made a positive impact in your life because I'm pretty sure I'm a ghost. I don't think I have had any major impact on anything. Remind me that I am more than just some matter sort of of taking up som...

Photo by Jeffry Surianto from Pexels I'm hitting the year of the water tiger with all my claws out.  I've had a blood test come back negative for brucellosis for the first time so very many months. I have no idea if the bacteria is out of my system completely or if it's hiding somewhere. But! The test confirms how I feel in my body. I feel like a person again. More or less.  Besides the miracle that is antibiotics, I owe the bulk of my sense of wellbeing to ashwagandha and resveratrol.  I have been taking ashwagandha for a while now and it has helped me through some really bleak ass mental states. I started taking resveratrol on a whim this year. It is classified as 'anti-aging' and figured I would give it a try now that I am right at my 40th year. I'm old. The Millennials are old now. Ahem. The first time I overdosed on the prescribed dose. Yikes. It was peculiar. The blood flow in my head was altered. I could feel it. The easiest thing to say was that it gave...

January. New western year.  Same shit. Sick once more. I am writing post fever while still gritting though blooms of joint and muscle pain erupting everywhere in  my body.  Thanks to all non-compliant, reproachable, selfish, doorknob lickers out there, I most likely have contracted COVID-19-omicron. And I get a bonus extra special prize! I'm having my period!  So, I have this sentiment to relate- I think you are perhaps adult enough to deal with it- I will not apologize either- And. Fuck. All. Of. You.  I will try to look forward to the Tiger's teeth of February. This month is dead to me. Just more dead time. More time lost to being sick. More wasting of the body and mind.  Mediocrity and suffering are the order of these days. And I am impotent rage; with relentless chin hairs.