A few from Goodfellas spring to mind, too:

Really want to tell an editor her mother sucks the devil's cock in hell. Disturbing when lines from The Exorcist are totally apt.

More headway:

Yesterday one of my doctors showed me the latest newsletter from Johns Hopkins. It was devoted to CFIDS and the newest research breakthroughs.

Today a feature in the Guardian U.K. effectively illustrates the more pernicious aspects of the illness. (Note: in the U.K., CFIDS/CFS is frequently referred to as M.E., for Myalgic Encepholopathy.)

As most of you know, it's what I've had for the past 19 years and thus far, despite enormous progress as to its etiology (the Centers for Disease Control announced in April 2006 that five genetic markers had been isolated in those of us with CFIDS; it appears almost certain the trigger is the XMRV retrovirus or another, similar virus) there is still no effective treatment.

Fingers remain unendingly crossed.

The Guardian U.K. piece:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/2010/may/13/me-chronic-fatigue-syndrome

I caved:

Fuck it. Here goes. Follow me on Twitter @LitsaDremousis.

Illuminating one of the many reasons Lena Horne was singular and great:

The headline is misleading, but this piece by James Gavin is one of the better tributes to Ms. Horne I've read so far:

http://www.thedailybeast.com/blogs-and-stories/2010-05-10/lena-hornes-stormy-past/

A 48 word recap of the past 24 hours:

Enjoyed splendid Mother's Day; bantered with brother; was pleased by Elena Kagan's nomination then saddened by Lena Horne's death; read devastating NYT piece on backsliding AIDS crisis in Uganda; had more nightmares; wrote most of today in pajamas while birds trilled soothingly outside window; am in massive pain.

And, also, because she's learned to navigate the Internet...

...with ease and her customary intelligence and never sends my brother and me emails with clip art drawings of hearts with bows around them and "jokes".

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

Finding Adam Kellner:

A FB friend of mine just wrote this piece about her friend's adult son, Adam Kellner, who vanished from his mother's home in Stevenson Ranch, California (30 miles north of Los Angeles) three years ago. He disappeared without his wallet, license, keys or medications. (He has schizophrenia but was functioning well, under the circumstances.)

My loved one was missing four and a half days before his body was found and I can't fathom the even lower depths of hell in which Kellner's family has lived for three years.

Please help get the word out:

http://www.jewishjournal.com/gina_nahai/article/family_still_asking_where_is_adam_20100505/

Also: serf tossing

Britain's election just yielded a stalemate in Parliament between the Labour and Conservative parties. Possible tie breakers: scone eating contest; tweed scavenger hunt; rapid-fire mocking of French.

Again with the odds and sods:

• Had dinner at the Tamarind Tree and saw the A Guide to Visitors show last night with some delightful friends and colleagues. Fantastic meal and company and AGTV, per usual, was stellar. Also, at one point, the house manager's dog, Zack, curled up at my feet while I stroked his neck. More performances should include ridiculously sweet canines traipsing about.

• I've got another piece on KOMO4.com's Capitol Hill blog. More so than anything, I'm enjoying interviewing familiar faces in the neighborhood and shedding light on some of my favorite venues: http://capitolhill.komonews.com/content/broadway-market-video-succeeding-netflix-era

• I am so fucking sick right now that Glenn Beck could walk through the door, go on a tirade then raid my fridge and I wouldn't react. Okay, not really on that last part, but you get my point.
  

Slightly in advance of Mother's Day, a fraction of the excellent things my mom has said or done:

• She (and my dad) read to my brother and me nearly every night from as early as I can remember.

• She taught my brother and me how to roller-skate.

• When she went back to school when I was ten and George was eight, she logged two years of a 4.0 at North Seattle Community College then transferred to the University of Washington for her next two years and graduated summa cum laude. And she helped us with our homework each night before she even got a chance to start hers.

• Her homemade lasagna remains unparalleled. I'm certain it could end wars if everyone just got a slice.
  

• Because she was raised in a traditional Greek household (code for "sexist as hell"), she taught me I could be anything as long as I devoted myself to the task at hand. And, of course, never let my slip show.
  

• Once when my brother was in high school and didn't want to help in the kitchen, she told him, "Just because you have a penis doesn't mean you can't unload a dishwasher."
  

• We laugh about it now, but when I was a junior in high school, she said she knew times were changing and she'd understand if I had premarital sex, "if, for instance, you're twenty-seven and engaged."

• When George and I were in junior high, she decided we were old enough to see R-rated movies, but she wanted our first to be a good one so she took us to see The Shining.

• She taught us "the N-word" was the worst word we could utter and, more importantly, taught us why.

• When she was a deputy prosecuting attorney, I frequently visited her office and encountered several defense attorneys who said Mom had repeatedly and thoroughly trumped them in court, but they liked her anyway because she played fair and was a class act.

• She instilled in me a lifelong appreciation of Hemingway and Fitzgerald.
  

• Many years ago, she put a Maniati (Spartan) curse on someone who broke my heart. Subsequently, his career went off the rails.
  

• She taught me this same Maniati curse that has been passed down for centuries. I, too, have used it sparingly, but to great effect.

• My father is equally wonderful, but Mom will always be the glue.
  

My new favorite sentence:

"But it is also true that the mega-dosage of reality programming has lowered the lowest common denominator to pre-literacy."--James Wolcott, Vanity Fair

This sounds all goopy-sweet caramel sauce but...

...I could not be more fucking sincere: it's only noon and I've already had three delightful and meaningful encounters with some of the world's most loving individuals and I'm reminded again how fortunate I am.

I always enjoy Dick Cavett's NYT essays...

...and this one is especially compelling if you're prone to vivid dreams of all stripes and, in particular, to nightmares:

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/04/30/dreams-let-up-on-us/?ref=opinion%20&ref=opinion

Because, Part II:

Because we don't know why we're born or when we'll die and North Korea, Iran and Pakistan are in a potato sack race to see which can annihilate humanity first, let us find respite in the joy that Pomeranian puppies bring.

Because...

...today is hell and this is one of my favorites. March 2009, Red Rocks.

When you actually have to explain to your ob-gyn...

...how stress from grief can affect one's cycle, you shouldn't have to pay for the appointment, right?

And shouldn't the doctor have to bake you cupcakes or something just for being such a dumbass?

I know the calendar says it's spring...

...but assuredly, it's not.

Human skulls and Nixon stickers and vintage Steinbeck:

My newest KOMO4.com Capitol Hill blog post, an interview with the owner of the delightful junk shop, the Anne Bonny, is up now:

http://capitolhill.komonews.com/content/anne-bonny-proud-member-dying-breed

Here's a fun one that in my shock and horror six months ago, I didn't anticipate:

There are ostensible friends who will bench themselves during the early stages of your grief and then return half a year later, either because they have a hangnail or some stupid shit like that or because they think that icky death stuff is over now and want to hang out again.

Sorry, children. That's not how this works.

No drama. No discussion.

We're done.

Seven years into this war, its overriding characteristics remain "futility" and "heartbreak":

From today's New York Times, "In Army's Trauma Care Units, Feeling Warehoused":

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/25/health/25warrior.html?hp