nonexistent DSL connection
Friday 25 May 2007 | I like a cookie
And I don’t know what in the world to do about it, because I don’t think it’s the modem, I think it’s a rain-soaked phone line. Can I really stand this for another six weeks? Well, for now, until I get kicked off—the Brujo and I met this morning with the black-leather-jacketed Cool Psychiatrist, who said flatly, “You’re overmedicated,” and instructed me to turn down all the little pharmaceutical knobs and dials, even though the resultant dosages seem ridiculously minute (I’ll be rubbing blue aripiprazole dust into my gumline), and to call her next week with an update. The B. was there to keep things real, since when I go alone, she barely looks at me before diving headfirst into the huge man-sized Ali-Baba wicker basket where she keeps all her med samples, along with (apparently) guns and knives that patients have given her (!), tossing around boxes and blister packs wildly while muttering “Shit—wait—I know I have some—just wait—!” Whereas with the Brujo there, she actually sat still (could she be manic?) and listened to me before she whipped out her Palm Pilot to look up side effects. She does love her some technology, my nutty genius Brooklyn lesbian pdoc. Oh, so much more to say (especially about the very cool piece of Butoh-derived performance the B. and I saw last night, right here in New Mexico); but a dearth of up-time in which to say it. Not being able to blog is almost physically painful. Or maybe that’s just an excessive blood-level of atypical antipsychotic talking.
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