i used to be annoyed and mystified by those bloggers who, without any explanation to their readers, just stopped blogging one day for no apparent good goddam reason--until, that is, i became one of 'em.
because now i understand why it happens. one day, you just look up after years of doing this shit and realize you've pretty much shot your wad, said everything you have to say. but you don't formally call lit quits--you figure you'll come back in a week or so, when the muse whispers into your ear once more. and then that week turns into weeks, and the weeks become months, and…well, here we are.
so, yeah, i'm still (1) battling my demons, (2) having lots of age-inappropriate sex, and (3) watching the western world devolve into chaos exactly as predicted, but, having had nothing new to add to these three pillars upon which this blog rests, i've kept my distance, figuring if anything truly outta the ordinary came up, i'd maybe check in again.
well, something finally did, so here i am.
this story started out ordinarily enough (for me, anyway), back in late december, with a truly memorable night with a cute 20-year-old named ruben out in riverside. came home the next morning, packed up the car a couple days later and headed east for the holidays.
it was the morning after christmas, in wichita falls, texas, in the bosom of my family, standing there sleepily contemplating the big jesus-loves-you cross hanging over the toilet whilst waiting for the stream, that i first felt the burn.
i dismissed it as nothing, of course, because denial always comes first.
it was only later that day, standing in fronta that same toilet, when i whipped it out, cautiously gave it a pre-piss squeeze, saw the unmistakable, tell-tale pearl emerge, that i knew for sure.
i rotated through the other four stages in a matter of minutes--first, goddam you ruben you little whore, then please god no, then kill me now, and, finally, fine, deal with it.
i went out on the front porch, sat down on the steps, lit a smoke, called ruben, wished him a merry christmas, broke it to him gently, told him he needed to get tested immediately. (how did i know it was ruben, you ask? simple process of elimination--ruben was the only one i'd had sex with in the past two weeks (due only to a bad cold), and there had been no one after.)
a word now about STD etiquette: blaming poor ruben woulda been pointless, because it really doesn't matter who clapped whom--we're both reckless sluts, and if that guy in amarillo hadn't flaked on me two days after ruben, i'd have no doubt passed it on to him. so you gotta be philosophical about these things, is my attitude.
at this point, faithful readers, you might be wondering why mkf has broken several months of radio silence only to tell you this sorry little story, and you might have a point, if i didn't have a point, too.
see, i was in a mess--here i was in a strange town in texas, about to leave for another one, and then another one two days after that; it wouldn't be until i was in austin nearly a week later that i'd have even a hope of getting treatment for what suddenly ailed me.
and i couldn't wait that long, because it was bad, and getting worse.
so, two excruciating days later, as soon as my mother, sister and i arrived in dallas (i.e., semi-civilization), i made my excuses and burned rubber for the nearest whole foods, where i picked up the two strongest natural anti-bacterials of which i know, started dosing myself with same at staggered intervals throughout each day and night.
all for nothing, so it seemed--by then, the pus had given way to blood, the bowl turned dark every time i pissed, and the pain was intense. but i kept on.
the darkest moment, i think, happened the night i finally hit austin. intensely horny, and having had to cancel a long-standing appointment (with the hottest, hungriest boy you or i have ever seen, trust me), alone in my motel room, and for the first time in ten days, i gave in and jerked off.
before that night, i had never even imagined such a thing as red semen was possible.
but, yeah, it is.
* * * * *
austin free clinic, four days later
she was the coolest doctor i've ever met--about my age, years in the trenches, had seen it all, yet still retained her humor and humanity. which is probably the only reason i told her the story.
she listened, as i explained my regimen, and how i'd obsessively jerked off repeatedly those last few days, tryin to shoot all the bad stuff outta me, and how it got progressively lighter and lighter, until, just that morning, i had delivered a load that finally looked normal.
she seemed interested but dubious, took a swab, disappeared for a few minutes, and came back and told me with some surprise that, while white blood cells showed up under the microscope, indicating a reaction to infection, there was no infection to be found. to make sure, she had me piss in a cup for lab analysis and gave me the shot anyway, told me to call back for the results in a couple weeks.
which i did. the results: negative for any STD.
fuck gut-destroying antibiotics and drug-resistant superbugs--using natural methods, i cured my own serious bacterial infection, bitches.
and i'm betting you can, too, should such an eventuality ever present itself. which is the point of this post.
get you some of this stuff, ok?
and yeah, i'll be dosing myself with same before and after all future encounters with all present and future rubens, you can damn well be sure.