Indoor Fireworks.

Posted: December 24, 2012 in Uncategorized

What I’m talking about is ____. 

What I’m telling you is _____. 

And what I want you to know is that I am still planning to wear your leather pants this New Years Eve.  You came up with the $565 to buy them.  The least you could do is cover these shipping costs…

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Yesterday evening brought Xiaochang out to Casa De Trazon West.  The word friendship can be so flaccidly interpreted.  Let’s just say that Xiaochang is one of the most hardcore of all my friends.  We met at Odle Middle School, but I don’t think we really got down  to really taking a like for each other until years later, where many of my friends took the corner booth at Denny’s at 3 AM to smoke Marlboros.  She was teaching herself to smoke Gauloises cigarettes before leaving for Paris in the Spring.  I saw a fellow pioneer.

And we would be seeing the rest of the world till Brooklyn.

(Lymphoma is unrelated to cigarette smoking, by the way.   We have both, more or less, quit.  Or at least stopped buying them…. Lies.  All lies.)

Today is Xiaochang’s birthday.  That’s right, she was born on Christmas Eve.  (And I can tell you where to send her naked pictures so that maybe she forgets that she was born on Christmas Eve, too… just because I’m that kind of friend.  Now we are both back in Seattle.  I’m still in a state of cumbersome disruption from Cheems #2.  The day itself was manageable, but it was definitely a massive undertaking, especially with the installment of the central catheter.  3 days later, I’m still unsure as to how I’m supposed to take a shower with this thing, seeing as how the bruise looks something like this:

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Yeah, Merry Christmas.  If you find these posts aesthetically jarring, too, please press 6 followed by the pound sign…

The day after the treatment, I was given a white-blood booster shot into my stomach that left my carpals shaking on the car ride home.  I have a limited appetite, even in response to the medical ganja.  This is probably a good thing, given all the weight that I put on this month, but you see, I’m trying to be intelligent about it by NOT giving myself masochistic points for losing the weight too fast.  And the steroids that were supposed to be dissipate the swelling seem to be doing the opposite since I was directed to take 4 a day through the weekend.  I was told that this was going to happen, but I have to admit that I didn’t expect to look into the mirror and feeling like Uncle Fester.  Or Angelica Huston in The Witches.  (Who was also Morticia in the Addams Family… okay, exactly what the fuck IS going on here?)

I’ll be in a better mood once I make myself an omelette.

*

That’ll probably have to be a pretend omelette.

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