Monday, February 28, 2005

Somewhere over the rainbow:

I came down with a massive case of hives on Saturday night. By Sunday morning, my arms and legs were covered in huge raspberry blotches that itched like hell. (Mercifully, my face and chest were spared. I still possess a certain je ne sais quoi, as long as I don't have to take off my coat.)

I explained to my pharmacist and to my doctor that I'm on deadline and that I'd rather be lucid and itch than be hive-free and stoned. I made it clear that I didn't want to ingest anything that would turn me into Judy Garland. Both pointed out, however, that my immune system is not exactly my best friend and that letting said hives go unchecked was a big mistake.

So, now the hives are almost gone but I'm high as a kite and readying a transcript for quote checks whilst trying to remain upright. I'm tempted to crawl into bed and remain there for the next three days, unencumbered by clothes or consciousness.

I won't, though. Here's why:

KEXP 90.3 FM - where the music matters

KEXP 90.3 FM - where the music matters

KEXP 90.3 FM - where the music matters

Thursday, February 24, 2005

Stacked Writer Girl in Vintage Clothing Porn:

I suppose this was inevitable: my Black Table piece, "The Leg Fuck", has been linked to a porn site featuring absurdly specific categories. What distinguishes "Black Amateurs" from "Black Porn"? Where's the guy who's about to clutch himself but tucks it away when he realizes, "Hey, these folks are getting paid!"? What, exactly, is the difference between "College Girls Porn" and "Spring Break Porn"? And what the fuck is "Balloon Porn"? Are they just making stuff up now?

Find out for yourself:

Crazy Shit happens Link dump sex movies blog funny news stories > > News > > STRANGEWAYS, HERE THEY COME: GIRLS HAVE SEX IN ODD PLACES.

Saturday, February 19, 2005

All you can do is bite down and breathe:

In "The Story of O", O allows herself to be tortured. Each time she's flogged, the pain is excruciating and she vows she'll never subject herself to it again. Afterward, she's peaceful and scalded and believes she's stronger. She allows herself to be tortured again.

In the last two weeks, Cranky accepted one of my short stories, Paste asked me to write reviews, The Believer offered me a lofty sum to interview one of my favorite writers, and the British literary journal, Spoiled Ink, asked me to submit. Two of my favorite authors emailed each other about my work and Cupcake gave me another shout out.

And at this moment, part of me would trade all of it to make the fever and chills and nausea go away. To borrow Dylan's line, I couldn't call it unexpected. I've had CFIDS for almost fourteen years and I know that this is what I incur with each piece that I write, with most physical efforts that I make.

When I'm not in the worst of it, I can be sanguine. No one gets everything they want, I tell myself. I'm lucky to be good at what I love to do. My health is impaired, but I have talent and people who love me. There are far worse illnesses. Overall, I lead a remarkable life.

Right now, though, I would give it all away to wake up without this endless flu, to walk without numbness or pain, to lie down because I want to and not because the beast has pinned me. To find that this monster to which I'm tethered has finally set me free.

I can't not write, though.

I'll allow myself to be tortured again.

Thursday, February 17, 2005

"Hello grace/It's been awhile/Your footsteps didn't go unnoticed..."--Ken Stringfellow

To those who stuck around while I was inambulatory and to those who have revelled in my good fortune as is if it were their own, thank you with all I have. I'm grateful beyond measure. Much love, L.