Better

I'm better. I don't think it's mono. I hope not. Had lunch with B again today. I say again. Because I had lunch with him yesterday, too. He's still yellow. His facebook status yesterday read "B is a Simpson." Today it says he's "Greuh." Which I think is a growling noise. B's good at noises. It's part of what makes our skype conversations so fun. At first glance yesterday I thought he was exaggerating. About the yellow thing. Then I looked into the whites of his eyes. And they were yellow. Apparently mono gets at your liver. B's is in overdrive. We like each other a lot.

This weekend. T had lots of soothing words. To help calm me down about B. And T. And I had a really good session of analysis Monday. At some point, the session ended up being about having good addresses. You say that in French if you know a cute store. Or a nice restaurant. "J'ai une bonne adresse." So it's sorta trite that way. (Is it trite in English, too? One of the weirdest things about this extended living and now more and more settling abroad is that I forget what it is we say in English. But we do say that, don't we? I have a great address. For shoes. Or bagels. Or whatevers. Weird how language's second nature can become obviously second and not at all natural once you're straddling two languages at once. Of course, this is one of the major motors for writing about translation.)

But when I was turning around my good addresses in analysis. Of course I was talking about you. And my shrink. And my friend K who just said in an email last week: "YES I WANT YOUR PIECE ON TILLMANS." I was telling my shrink that these were all good addresses. And that I have quite a number of them. Like any of us do. Many of us. At any rate. People I say you to. Who allow me to discover myself differently. Preparing for another world. So many I's amongst us who need it. Yay indeed. Know what? The EP comes out in Europe right on my birthday! Something cosmic about that. Sidereal and all. I'm already all weepy over the minute and a half excerpt that I found on your friend Choire's website before it popped out so serendipitously here.

There's a vague plan in the air for New Year's in New York. I assume you're hanging with your friend Patti.

Keep thinking. I was having vague fits of paranoia because I littered my blog entry with kleenex and you didn't write back. Also because I'm teaching Balzac. Which is enough to make you paranoid. I gave a kick-ass lecture/discussion today to wrap up on Lost Illusions. There are reasons behind why I do what I do. But my paranoia was really only in vague fits. Even reading Balzac. Who has a soft-spot for all the strange things his characters because of how they're "built-in." (Henry James on Balzac cited by Michael Lucey: "Nothing appealed to [Balzac] more than to show how we all are, and how we are placed and built-in for being so.") It's just such a rough world in France in the 1820's. How we're built-in made us do the darndest things. Not like it's looking like it's going to be much less rough wherever we are over the next decade or two. But at least you and I. We're good now. It also helped my paranoia about my kleenexes. That you had burped in your first entry back from your vacation. I love it that you like beer now.

xxoo s