Having poured a stiff one...

I feel like I'm talking to myself here. The handful of readers I had have likely dissipated. It's been months after all. And rather then send out a search party of lanterns and hound dogs, this is the internet, where people simply drift away.

It's been four days now since we switched up my meds and I'm feeling a little bit better. That was a tough month. What my therapist called "a major depressive episode." I just thought it was boring...a few weeks in the dead of winter when I'd rather put on my pajamas at six pm and watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force (thank you, BitTorrent!) than do anything resembling human interaction.


Tomorrow the dosage gets upped 50mg more. We'll see what does. Hopefully I make it through this one without being hit by a car (the pavement sometimes looks so pretty, is so mesmerizing, when you are speeding on antidepressants).

This is really starting to get old. I can feel it in my bones, the diagnosis, putting its roots down. I don't want this thing to define me. I don't want that at all. But yet I feel it slowly happening. Beyond and before me it seems to stretch, like a new tint to the sun or a fleck in your eye, a death in the family, a hall that's collapsed on your shoulders.

Sorta thinking

I forgot all about you.

I kinda moved on.

This summer I spent at the river, doing poppers, barebacking latinos who barely spoke English born on this or that side of the border who would then follow me back to my upscale tony neighborhood and cry outside my window while I would be crying inside the window, wishing for them to leave...

Finally, I dragged my aching body and its night sweats to a psychiatrist and to a doctor...while I didn't have acute HIV infection, I did have severe clinical depression.

Medications were prescribed which knifed my libido in the back.

Several months later now, I have no idea what is happening. I can't give a shit about you and your boyfriend, or about my dad in the hospital, probably dying.

I want nothing more than to smoke some pot and lay on the couch watching Drawn Together or Aqua Teen Hunger Force, which I have pirated off the internet via BitTorrent sites and burned onto DVDs using Popcorn.

It's occurred to me that perhaps I should aim a bit higher. Go back to the therapist and see the psychiatrist about changing medications.

So here we go again.

It's also occured to me that I can't talk about this on my main blog where all my friends and colleagues follow my every word. I gotta come back to this here, my little secret.

This secret blog has become part of my stratagem again. We'll see how long it lasts.

Anyone who ever thought they could love me or my words, please come back and send me an html kiss.

I'll be back later to fill you in on things...

Vodka sour, please...

Pour me a stiff one, I may need to bring this one back...