Monthly Archives: March 2005
March 11, 2005
My dog is in the hospital. Her vet thinks she has pancreatitis. I was going to write a post about how I bet the other dogs are all jealous of the blue cast she has on her right foreleg (to keep her from pulling out the IV) but I simply can’t. The vet says maybe I’ll be able to take her home tomorrow but I don’t see how when she hasn’t eaten anything since Tuesday. Today, when I visited her, she licked a little bit of tuna and turned her head away.
March 8, 2005
About a month ago, I bit the inside of my lip.
This would not be a newsworthy event except that it kept swelling up and then going down, over and over and over again. When it would get almost all the way down, I would bite it again–by accident–and it would swell up again, even bigger this time.
The end result of this was that, by the end of last week, when I had delicious tea with him, I had a repulsive protuberance on my lip so distracting that, when I explained what had happened in the form of an amusing story, he blurted out, “Oh, thank God, because I’ve been staring at it not knowing what to say.”
My harelip was so grotesque, in fact, that it gave me a speech impediment. Ordinarily I have, like many gay Americans, a very slight lateral lisp. With the pustulant boil on my lower lip, though, the lisp was far more pronounced than usual; I also couldn’t say the letters F or V without a lot of extraneous hissing.
This made for a great class on Thursday, let me tell you, when we were discussing Falsettos.
In any case, I saw E.S. Friday night for the first time in a few days and he was horrified at what could only be an alien egg sac implanted in my lip. He attempted valiantly to ignore my deformity but the last straw came when I couldn’t kiss him in anything resembling an effective manner.
So he lanced it.
I will not provide details, as there are some things simply too gross to bear repeating. But I will say that he started with a paring knife (sterilized, of course, with rubbing alcohol–remember that he is a doctor); when that proved ineffective, he went on to a fondue fork. In the end it was a finishing needle that did the trick. The whole thing was especially unnerving given that we’d had a fight that morning in which I’d crankily blamed him for making me late to a meeting.
It’s entirely possible that there are more uncomfortable positions than sitting still while a man who may not have forgiven you for calling him a bastard pokes your mouth repeatedly with a sharp knife.
But I haven’t been in them.
March 5, 2005
Not that I needed it, but I now have confirmation from the Snack Food Zodiac.
I am a Twinkie.
(Thanks to him for the link.)
March 2, 2005
At the end of last summer, I emailed my editor for the haiku book with a bunch of questions. At the end of the email, I wrote, “By the way, do you guys need a photo for the book jacket or anything?” He replied to all my questions and then said “Yes, we need a photo, by September 22.” This was five weeks away.
And I was like, I wrote a book called Gay Haiku. Do you think I don’t need THREE MONTHS to get ready for a photo?
At the time I weighed 143 pounds–severely up from my usual and preferred weight of somewhere between 130 and 135. I went into overdrive, spending all my free time at the gym and sacrificing anything I could get my hands on to the gods, so that they’d let me lose ten pounds in five weeks.
The gods were, in the end, deaf to my pleas.
This may have had something to do with the fact that, during this period, every time I saw chocolate I shoveled it into my mouth as if it were antivenin and I had just been bitten by a rhino viper.
In the end I went to my photo shoot weighing something like 141 pounds. (I say “something like” not because hadn’t gotten on the scale in the morning and found out how much I weighed to within two tenths of a pound–of course I had–but because on the way there I was so miserable about being so enormous that I stopped at City Bakery and inhaled as many melted chocolated chip cookies as I could get my fat little hands on.)
Fast forward, if you will, to now. I am below 140 for the first time in a year, and fairly lean and muscly for the first time in two years, a state I attribute to having gone on The Abs Diet. I looked in the mirror yesterday morning and the person I saw staring back at me was so hot I wanted him to fuck me. Of course he was a bottom so there wouldn’t really have been any point, but still. I looked damn good.
So I’m thinking maybe I should have new photos taken. It would cause a disastrous delay in publication but at least my picture on the ruined book would look fabulous.
It’s important to have one’s priorities in the right place.