i just got back from the clinic and the verdict is STREP.

I’ll be past the contagious stage by Thursday and TX, though.

Sick is bad. Sick sucks.

My throat feels like it’s been cut and my ear feels like there’s an icepick in it. My throat was so bad last night (swollen) I couldn’t use the CPAP machine, so I slept really badly.

I’m going to slammasters on Thursday. Austinites, can you put me up Thursday night? IF not, I’ll go to the Austin Motel.
Just let me know.

Thanks…

Hey — locals and Austinites…

I’m coming in for Slammasters and need a couple of things:

For the Austinites:
1. A place to stay on Thursday night — get in around 12:30 PM.

For the locals:
2. A ride back from Manchester NH at 9:00 Monday night.

Any help is greatly appreciated.

Thanks.

Awake sucks.

I’ve got a sore throat and I want to sleep. So I’ve been feeding myself small doses of Seroquel to try and get to sleep without becoming comatose.

I’m up to about 3/4 of a tab by now in the last two hours, and still nothing. (That’s about 18 mg for those keeping track — not even close to a lethal or even harmful dose. Some folks take up to 200 mg at a time; I’m just really sensitive to it.)

I seem to have misplaced my Ambien, which usually does the trick much more mildly and quickly in such small doses. Thus, the hacking of Seroquel pills.

I could really use the sleep — lots to do tomorrow, including the completion of the next Zero Point Zero column and rent payments and all sorts of things. But I also don’t want to get up at 11, so getting to sleep now is crucial.

I’m going to hit myself in the head with a hammer soon.

As long as I’ve had sleep disorders, I’ve never gotten used to them. I don’t think I ever will.

Today:

— got a fresh list of potential contracts from a friend (the guy who took the 80+K year job I turned down) which I’ve been e-mailing and calling.

— confirmed that I’m getting the referral fee from the recruiter for said job.

— finalized the ad code for the snakepilot blog ( http://www.snakepilot.candyham.com ) so I might actually start getting paid for this thing. (Reminder: it’s a blog about my professional transition journey. I get paid for clicks and stuff. Go check it out, please?)

— worked on the next Zero Point Zero column.

— confirmed with Jeff Robinson that I’ll be doing a class through the Online School of Poetry. It’ll be called “To Voice Through Class” and will be geared toward helping beginning writers with personal/political work move from impassioned abstractions to more powerful, more concrete, poetry. Fees and structure to follow. For more info on school and faculty: http://www.onlineschoolofpoetry.com

I’m going out now to do a little shopping; might hit the Hut for lunch and ‘surfing. Later, gators.

I know I promised a more substantive post this AM, but it’ll wait till the PM — going out for sushi lunch with a friend, and off to sell a guitar as well, plus finally getting the old archtop modified.

Revision to most recent poem coming, news of the job front, and general rumination.

I ate at a cool joint today in Danielson, CT called the Rain Desert. Owned by a couple of old Deadheads — full bar, decorations from the 60s (Warhol style rockstar portraits everywhere, the bar is a laminated collage of old album covers, posters, ticket stubs, etc. and they are real, not fake kitsch), and the soundtrack is all 60s live stuff — Dead bootlegs, the Band, live Who, etc.

And the food ROCKS — I had a steak sandwich called the “Panama Red” — real slices of flank steak broiled in buffalo sauce and served on a bulkie roll with roasted red peppers and Mozzarella cheese. DAMN. Also had sweet potato fries, and a couple of draft Newcastles to boot. Great menu overall with cool choices from veggie stuff to prime rib sandwiches and great appetizers.

Dawn S, we’re going here next time you’re in town.

More substantive post in the light of day.

it’s raining.

there’s a round pothole in the street in front of the house. it’s full of water.

when raindrops strike it, they make rings of ripples that converge with one another.

every once in a while, a drop will strike the center of the puddle and the ripples will spread out and cover the entire surface more broadly.

there’s no metaphor here. no need for one. it’s just pretty.

i should be content more often to not make things into metaphors and just let them be pretty.

DINNER GUEST

i sat across from a woman at dinner last night
and when she opened her mouth
the angel of choice flew out
and streaked across the room
into a plate glass window
and fell stunned and bleeding to the floor.

she sat there picking feathers out of her teeth
as i rushed to the angel’s side.
i picked him up and settled him on the sill.
i asked if he was ok. he said,

i’m fine.
this happens.
sometimes, choices crash into invisible things.

i opened the window and he took off,
a little unsteady still.

back at the table
she was demolishing a chicken leg.

my god, i said, as i sat down.

eh, things fly out of people
all the time, she said.
get used to it. and as for god?
god is just an airport locker
where you leave stuff until you need
to come back to it.

after dinner, i walked home alone.
there were more stars than explanations
in the sky.

if there were ever angels in my mouth,
i have never tasted them.
if my choices have ever smacked
themselves unconscious
getting away from me
i have never heard them.
and if there’s a locker
out there with my hope in it,
i know i don’t have the key,

but if i ever become that nonchalant
about the miracles inside me,
may i starve until i can feel them
in my belly
again.

here’s the scoop:

— good time at ryk and melissa’s wedding on saturday

— best line outta regie gibson’s mouth yet: “he’s so lazy i’m not sure those are his kids”

— getting referral fee for the guy i turned on to the law firm job i turned down — he got it almost immediately

— started new blog for professional journey @ http://www.snakepilot.candyham.com — i get ad revenue so go, see it, click if you want

— will be seeking students for a class i’ll be teaching at Online School of Poetry — more details in a separate entry later

— new poem coming soon too, later tonight

and how are you?

I’m still alive, just really busy. I like it.

More later — out to do some errands and stuff.

a couple of drinks makes everything clearer.

i know it’s counterintuitive, but it is what it is.