Run for cover, in the temple of love.

HOLY SHIT, holy shit, holy shit...

DO NOT blog after taking four Ambien and drinking lots of booze.

Holy shit.  Holy shit.  Holy shit.

I think it's seriously time to call my sponsor. 

Tread Softly

We found Keats and Joyce and Lynott and eachother.

It was wonderful.  The motherland is absolutely heart warming.

More to say soon, for now I've got some back-in-town errands to run and I'm coughing up what looks like soot.

Hope all is well. 

Gone

Heading 'cross seas tomorrow to find the ghosts of Yeats and Joyce.

See you next year. 

The complexities of breath.

I am back in the hospital for another go.  We're trying an antibiotic that I am have in the past been very allergic to in inhaled form.  We are trying it intravenously and so far I have been fine.  I'm having my second dosed infused as I type.  It's very toxic to the renal system so we are monitoring my creatinine very closely.  Please keep fingers crossed that my kidneys don't fail. 

I will be here until around the 24th.  I will be discharged for my birthday (the 25th), and then the 26th J. and I are flying to Dublin, Ireland for a much needed, almost two-week excursion.  I know my health is hardly in suitable shape for travel but we have decided sooner than later (when I am too sick for such a thing) is better.

It's cold and I don't mind being bundled inside.  Though I don't celebrate Christmas I am looking forward to seeing family for the holidays.  I'm also looking forward to kissing Piper in the middle of an ice skating rink ASAP.

Oh, the romance!  

We're desperate -- Get used to it.

something

you should be here to give me,

hold me as I long to 

be tied up and

beaten

filling every inch of my 

body with it.

that or fill my belly with

whiskey

and hide under a veil of bubbles

I want to kiss kiss and become

lost

in the songs that saved my life fifteen years prior.

longing to be touched until I am bruised so 

I turn the sound off

and ignore my calls.

The Universe does it again.

The Universe is giving me everything I want.  That is, everything it's got power to give me.  It's been the people I randomly come across, the books I find, the songs I hear and the way the snow sparkled this morning like I was looking on it with the innocent eyes of a child. 

Appropriately, I flipped to this tonight.  And it all just clicked.  This one is Kerouac.  This one is for Paul (of course it's for you, Q):

How to Meditate.  

---lights out---

fall, hands a-clasped, into instantaneous

ecstasy like a shot of heroin or morphine, 

the gland inside of my brain discharging

the good glad fluid (Holy Fluid) as

I hap-down and hold all of my body parts

down to a deadstop trance -- Healing

all my sicknesses - erasing all - not

even the shred of a "I-hope-you" or a 

Looney Balloon left in it, but the mind

blank, serene, thoughtless.  When a thought

comes a-springing from afar with its held-

forth figure of image, you spoof it out,

you spuff it out, you fake it and 

it fades, and thought never comes -- and

with joy you realize for the first time 

"Thinking's just like not thinking --

So I don't have to think

any

more"

And, as usual, I'm getting everything I want but not a tad bit of what I need.  I'm dwelling on the past because my hopes for a future feel as if they're dwindling with every struggled breath.  I miss the people I've loved and lost touch with.  The men I told I'd marry.  The women I've given orgasms to.  The jobs I've enjoyed.  The moment I had the seemingly perfect life of a house, a husband, a bundle of kittens and a fucking hot tub.  I miss a time when food actually tasted good and my voice was strong enough to sing.  It's all been dwindled down to nothing.  Abandoned for fear that I might die and break the hearts of lovers (I would marry you in a heartbeat if I knew I could give you the life you deserve), come so hard I cry, miss too much work and get fired, over indulge in the warm waters until my hands become unrecognizable.  

On the other hand everything has a certain intensity to it now.  I'm falling in love with multiple people at once and the friends who I have been lucky enough to stick by my side through a tireless six weeks of hospital visits are the most incredible friends a mutant could ever have.  

So, let the days pass, let these tired lungs live.  Let the snow shine and the sun sparkle.  Let the narcotics overcome the pain and most importantly, let this pass.  

The hospital life.

I am readmitted as of yesterday afternoon.   My PFTs are scarily low.  My lungs sound worst than they did upon discharge.  I asked my doctor this morning if quitting CF was an option.  She laughed uncomfortably.

I can hardly keep my eyes open.  I'm needing more pain medications than I can handle.  I'm zoned out but out of pain.  Trade off.  

It's all a trade off.