search for delicious

At the moment, it's mostly sleep I'm worried about. Getting by. Which I used to think of as an art. Or as something that could leave precipitates worth keeping. At the moment, the main precipitate getting by is leaving are piles of kleenex around the house. I felt something coming on over the course of my Friday -- the one day I don't go in to work, of course. And then Saturday it came head on. Knocked me out all day yesterday. What really worries me is that B has been diagnosed with mono. Which I don't think I've ever had. And the most hilarious part of it is that it wouldn't even have been because we had great kinky sex with each other. Nope. But at point of highest contagion, no doubt, we had had lunch and he had stuck his tongue down my throat for all of half a second. That might be enough. I was pooped anyways. But if I have to deal with EBV? Sheez. I'm not out of the barnyard yet. As they say 'round these parts. Meaning. We've got a lot of road to travel. Before we get to awakening.


Thought I should tell you. Our Search for Delicious just became even more clearly important to me than it already is. I mean our correspondence. I've declared a hiatus from my writing group for a while. Because of headcold, but also because of the fact that every time I tried to write for it I got filled with dread. I was supposed to go today. Couldn't have. Because of the cold. But as T said last night when I was making the decision and he was helping me articulate its consequences. The writing group was always about dread. Which I might have needed. To get where I. And Caroline along with me. Inside me. Need to get. But what with all the concentration on getting by. Too much pressure to perform. For them. Nice people. But so far. Nothing quite enticing Caroline out into the world. Helping her awaken. It's actually felt a little more like. There she is. Lying on the ground. Passed out. And once a month I come up and give her a little kick on the shoulder. She sorta moans. And rolls over. And says she's tired. Does she really have to come out? I mean. I don't wanna be mean. Drag her out into the light if she's not ready. She's got a good beginning. She's just not quite ready to take stage yet.

Plus? I dunno about you. But this whole Wall Street thang? I just don't get it. So I've been reading smart people on the economy. And remembering a moment that I can't quite chronologically situate. When I was visiting my parents. It may have been around the time Bush and Cheney and Haliburton started bombing Iraq. I remember being adamant. Without feeling self-righteous. Self-righteous I would sometimes feel as a kid when I'd go on diatribes for Michael Dukakis. For example. But about the bombings. It was just so clear to me. That it was not a question of right or wrong. That this was all going to be a mess. Dismayed at their inability to consider the consequences. To wonder about the side-effects. I guess it was around that moment that I lost the feeling that however much I reasoned about things. They might actually be right. At that moment. I realized. They were so wrong. And had no idea. And coming back to their house one night. (I have lots of memories of being on the threshold of my parents' home. It's a charged site). I remember turning the key in the lock and thinking. Jesus. They have no idea how fragile this all is. Do they. And it does seem now like we're at a brief moment where that fragility seems obvious to everyone. And fragility, vulnerability. It makes some of us crazy. And then there are others amongst us. Like you and me. We're not alone. And we're ready to do something else with that fragility and vulnerability. Like wake up.