This morning, for the first time in two days, I was finally able to pull myself out of bed. I've been sicker these past few days than I've been in the past 3 years. It's insane. I was supposed to go to the hospital yesterday, but none of my 415 friends have cars, or cars that move under their own power (Chris A.'s Mercedes 300E has a bum tranny). This meant I had to take the lovely 38 Geary out to the VA hospital which Was Just Not Going To Happen. I could have taken a cab, but that's a $60 round trip and I just don't want to spend that kind of money on a goddamn taxicab. Besides, I could barely make it to the bathroom, let alone walk out the front door. My fever at one point went to over 103, and I started hallucinating.
That wasn't fun. Especially when I coughed and this horrible, thick, nasty avocado-green stuff came bubbling out of my mouth into my hands. For a minute there, I had to laugh, because all I could think about was Linda Blair. So there I was, looking like hell, 3 am, eyes all puffy, temperature of 103 point something, and laughing. My voice was extremely hoarse, and I yelled out to nobody in particular, "Fuck meee! Fuck meeee!"
Hey, it was funny to me at the time. It's probably a good thing nobody else saw that. And I also just realized that last paragraph makes absolutely no sense to anyone who hasn't seen "The Exorcist".
Today, while still feeling like crap, I'm a bit stronger and I can actually walk around and get to the kitchen to make some tea. Now, I haven't eaten much in the past few days, and I've lost about 10 pounds, because I have an extremely high metabolism. As a result, I'm ravenously hungry right now, and all I can think about is Chick-fil-A. I would cut off one of my testicles for a Chick-fil-A sandwich. The closest one is in Fairfield, which is a 45 minute drive from here. If I was there I'd get at least ten. Probably eat every single one of them too.
As soon as I post this, I am going to get in the shower, make myself presentable, and get on the 38. So if you work anywhere in the vicinity of Montomery and Market streets in San Francisco and see a 6'2" guy who looks like he's about to fall over while waiting for the bus, be sure to poke me with a stick to see if I'm still alive.
Chris A. just called to tell me he's rented a Pontiac Bonneville and is going to drive me to the VA. God damn, Chris. You fucking rock. :-)
Gotta get in the shower now.
My doctor told me my immune system of steel fought off most of the infection in a surprisingly short amount of time, but she gave me antibiotics and cough syrup (with coedine...yay) to take in the meantime. And Chris A., who complained about the Pontiac's styling and rental color (white), had very little to complain about when he stomped on the gas pedal. Those Bonnevilles can scoot, let me tell you.
The above photo was taken by me last October, on Broadway in Chinatown here in San Francisco. I originally posted it in my photoblog, with this text:
I saw this billboard today, and I still cannot figure out what the hell it's trying to tell me. As I was taking this picture, a woman stopped dead in her tracks and stared at me for about 30 seconds in complete silence, standing about a foot away from me.
I said "Hi," but she said nothing, continuing to stare at me.
I said, "What does this billboard mean?"
No response. Just a blank stare.
I said, "Injury,?Lawyers,?" in the hopes that maybe she spoke billboard gibberish.
Again, just a blank, silent stare. she eventually shuffled away.
Sometimes i think everyone in San Francisco is insane.