Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Allergic

I wake up feeling like it’s one of those days when I need to take a nap, I mean if I don’t get in bed then I’ll just fall apart, even though whenever I take a nap maybe I miss the apart but I wake up at the bottom of the fall. Or, I wake up fine for an hour or two, until. What’s that part called? Part. That’s how I feel. Is that before, or after apart? In this case, after.

But wait -- this case is the beginning of the day, I’m just getting out of bed, I’m getting out of bed because every time I close my eyes it doesn’t help, I mean I’ve been in here for 12 hours, shouldn’t 12 hours help? I keep trying to close my eyes to get to some place that feels like calm, just for a moment, just for a moment so that then I can get out of bed and into calm but forget it, there’s nothing but this, this smell of fabric softener, fabric softener everywhere -- where’s it coming from? I lean over to smell the towel, freshly laundered from the place that says they don’t use fabric softener, never, they never use fabric softener, there’s no fabric softener in the facility, the towel smells like fabric softener. What about my eye mask? Fabric softener. What about this pillow? Fabric softener.

But why does my whole apartment smell like fabric softener, I mean even the air blowing in through the windows, I lean out to see: fabric softener. I close the windows, the windows in the living room, it’s foggy out today anyway. That’s a little better. I go in the kitchen: everything smells like dried shrimp, someone’s frying dried shrimp -- actually, it smells like fabric softener, and dried shrimp. There isn’t even any laundry in my building -- it must be coming in from one of the buildings next door, seven floors up and into my apartment. Unless someone managed to sneak a laundry machine into their apartment, and then attach it to the kitchen sink or something -- but we never have enough water pressure for that. Or maybe that’s why we never have enough water pressure. What about the bathroom? Febreeze. Someone must’ve just sprayed Febreeze downstairs. Or maybe it’s coming in from the hallway. I open my door: actually, that smells fine, just dusty, musty. Febreeze and dried shrimp from downstairs, fabric softener from outside and in my bed.

Oh, no -- now the kitchen smells like mold, is that mold or dried shrimp? At least there’s the music, on a day like today all you can do is dance. I mean I can’t dance, can’t dance for more than a few minutes but let me just have my few minutes, okay? How is it that my body goes right into those moves, just like that, just like that on a day like today: this -- is -- it -- bitch, this is it -- bitch -- it’s always fun to create a repeating phrase, repeating phrase for dancing although I should stop, it’s getting too good, it’s getting too good so I should stop.

This is one of those days when, if there was an after-hours club open, I would throw on a wig and some sunglasses and take a cab over there and just work it out, I mean if I could do that without hurting myself too much. Maybe even if I couldn’t. An after-hours club at 3 pm on a Monday would be the place to find people who feel like I feel -- that’s the thing, that’s probably why I started thinking about drugs again, because I already feel like I’m strung out, when you’re strung out on drugs at least you know how to work it.

I remember when Rehab opened at The Pit, Monday mornings at 6 am maybe around 1993 and crystal was replacing ecstasy as the club drug of choice and everyone knew this wasn’t a good thing, but Monday mornings at 6 am in that dark basement sounded great, no need for sunglasses although I never made it there. Now that space is Asia SF, Asian drag queens serve you cocktails in a city that’s something like 40% Asian but there isn’t a single Asian gay bar -- but there’s Asia SF -- fratboys and bachelorette parties, any day of the week. But no Rehab.

Anyway, this is the point in the song or not the song but the mix, Doc Martin is throwing down Cevin Fisher, she already warned us right at the beginning, there’s a sample just before DJ Sneak, “hey party people we’ve gotta keep this thing going -- the way we used to do it.” And now we get the whole thing -- “at the Paradise garage, everybody was freakin’” -- and I wish, I wish that there was ever a time when everybody was freakin’ but I know club child nostalgia when I hear it, club child nostalgia is dangerous, especially when I’m giving those drama moves, body everywhere in spasms but my eyes stay still, club child nostalgia is dangerous but not as dangerous as fabric softener. The Blue Angels are flying over, heading to their next destination. Yesterday on the bus, this ordinary middle-aged couple came on, ordinary middle-aged couple probably homeless or on the verge of homelessness, lubricated with alcohol, maybe lubricated with alcohol for several decades and the guy said something about the Blue Angels, when’s their big show?

Actually this was Saturday, because their big show was yesterday. This guy said something about how they can just flip over like that and I said yeah, one of these days they’re going to flip over into some building, and he said but imagine, imagine if you were the enemy -- you’d be gone, just like that. He was excited, excited about the Blue Angels and I was trying to think of something to say, I said something about how much money they were wasting, probably millions of dollars just for this show and he said: yeah, imagine all the money just for gas. But he was still excited.

The new acupuncturist thinks that digestion is the answer, and food allergies -- I need to eliminate my food allergies or nothing will ever get better, there’s this one test she says is accurate but I’m worried that I’ll take the test and then everything I eat regularly will come up on the list. I’m getting hypoglycemic, I mean I’ve been hypoglycemic since I got up, maybe I was even hypoglycemic all 12 hours in bed, maybe that was part of the problem -- I thought I didn’t need to eat right before, right before I got in bed maybe I was tired enough it just sounded gross, gross to eat again I didn’t feel hungry but maybe, maybe that was part of the problem. Anyway, I’m going to try this Asian pear -- don’t worry, it’s grown in California -- I’m not sure when it becomes a Californian pear, probably not for a while though. I’m going to try this Asian pear, and I’ll let you know if I’m allergic.

2 comments:

J. Max said...

thank you darling. you understand.

today my house also smells like fabric softener.

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

And my laundry!!!

Lovely to hear from you...

Love --
mattilda