Infirm Terrible

After kissing that luscious skinhead boy who cried in my lap when he found out he was HIV positive I think I thought I was dying of AIDS for three years. After that it was a brain tumor that led to an ulcer. And now I taste something sweet. I think it's been there for a while and when I meditated on the JH Experience my clogged third eye received the message that I might be diabetic. And this time I mean it.

Heavy

All I'm thinking is: she moves her heavy body, moves her heavy body, her heavy body. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves, what it loves, her heavy body, chocolate, bread and cheese, Mighty Bites, a gallon of grapefruit juice, as she moves her heavy body and her mind is stuffed with fat, too, like one of those white sausages you eat in Bavaria before 11am. Cause they go bad. Real bad.

Bada-Bing and Belevdere

These days people are drinking drinks I've never heard of and never will. I am so out of touch. Last night I had two delicious Belvedere and Tonics on a "mom's night out," and I kept thinking of JT who said: Why can't we just have a night out? Why does it have to be qualified as a mom's night out? Obviously my thoughts don't run very deep right now. Just involve things like: Can I sneak Cheerios onto the plane? At the same time I've been living vicariously through Pamela de Barres and her I'm With the Band. And at the frequent mentions of Rodney Bingenheimer I got nostalgic for being 16 and on Mykonos and his fat photo albums and photographer Brad Elterman and Rodney calling me his "sweet 60s girl." Such an idiot for not looking them up when I moved to Cally in 1990. Ah, our summer of love. No one to worship at my shrine these days. Or ever again. I think.

Muffintops

And to add insult to injury, when I was checking the weather on msn.com earlier, I stumbled on a gallery of muffintops. Women of the world, why do you put up with this derogatory impudence? Why do you botox and pad and depilate your brains and speak in little girl voices? And put up with this renewed wave of misogyny?

Cougars

I've been thinking about cougars. That's because I read my friend JT's blog entry about going out in Hollywood with her co-workers, to a bar with lots of cougars pouncing on their fresh 20-something souls. I don't think I've ever thought of women along those lines before. When I was in my 20s and went to bars, of course, there'd be "girls" in their 30s, and I did think they were sort of pathetic, especially the ones that looked really shriveled up and pruney and dressed like hookers, but I never applied the term cougar. I thought vaguely of Mrs. Robinson and maybe women in their 50s. Cougars, if they existed, were far removed from everyday life. But now all of a sudden they are everywhere and feminism has been kicked in the gut again.

Nothing to Wear

I wouldn't be a woman if I didn't occasionally stand in front of my closet and think I have nothing to wear. What's terrible, though, is that I stand in front of my 19-month old's dresser with the same thought. I am sick of all of his clothes. I want to see something new. But he is 19 months old and he has like 50 shirts. But reason fails here. Having-nothing-to-wear is a state of mind. Can I think my way out of it?

Life is Life

I must remember what Dr. S. said before he took off, and when I told him that I oscillate between two truths; i.e. A. life is fundamentally worth living. B. life is fundamentally not worth living. He laughed out loud and said: Of course, they are both a lie!