Then again ...

My dear friend Ivy, who reminds me in the pic above of Catherine Deneuve in Repulsion, called me this afternoon to see how I'm feeling. She asked what I'm taking and when I told her, she said, "Fuck that -- I'm bringing you some good old fashioned western medicine. If you grow a third arm you'll be a better piano player."

She appeared a short time later with a care package of Claritin D, Advil, Robitussen, Afrin, Vicks Vaporub, Puff's Plus, Cosmo and People.

I'm starting to feel better. Must be the neti pot.

Hot and sour soup for the soul

I don't get sick often -- as in colds, flu, that sort of thing. This week I came down with a full-on cold, the week before the largest event for which I have ever been single-handedly responsible. That would be Neil's surprise 50th -- I can say this, because my darling luddite has no idea how to find this blahhhggg.

As such, I have made a full-time job out of trying to get well, using every remedy that's ever been suggested to me. These include but are not limited to:

-Going to the doctor to learn that they have not yet found a cure for the common cold
-Chicken soup
-Hot and sour soup
-Ginger tea with cayenne and lemon juice
-Regular tea with honey and lemon
-Gypsy Cold Cure(tm) tea, by the potful
-Dandelion tea, also by the potful*
-Vitamin C
-Airborne
-This homepathic sugary substance one ingests sublinguallly
-So much garlic it's absurd
-A neti pot (I know, but you get used to it)
-Something called Wellness Formula, in which I have high hopes
-Tons of water (with lemon, of course)
-Sleep
-Exercise
-Skipping exercise
-Prayer

The end result? There is still no cure for the common cold.

That said, God willing, Saturday will be wonderful and Neil will be happy.

*full disclosure -- this is more for slimming purposes, to eliminate the water that all these remedies make one retain. It works!

All we need is love

I'm truly sorry to have written so many mournful posts this year. I am actually having a pretty good one, work, family, man, dog, and self-wise. But death is a part of life; in fact it's the concept that keeps me from being truly calm and centered, the idea of losing those I love and of wasting my own life. I'm working on this.

In the post below I wrote that human resilience never ceases to amaze me (yes, I realize I've just quoted myself, but hear me out on this one). Of equally morbid fascination, though, are the depths to which human ignorance can plummet, and the things that prevail in people's minds.

A 49-year-old man, Jack Price, was attacked last night in Queens because he was gay. He's now in a medically induced coma. I did not know him; I read about him in the news. This is also the anniversary of Matthew Shepard's death.

For lack of anything more erudite to say at this hour, what the fuck?

I just don't get it, on any level.

Whether or not you like Keith Olbermann, please watch this.

Kindness and compassion. That's what it's all about.

Sing of the past as you behold the dawn of hope in my eyes, for
It's magic meaning is a soft bed upon which my heart rests.
-Khalil Gibran