state of mkf

you know those blogs where people just come on every day and bitch about minor shit that bugs 'em?  i swore i'd never fall into that trap, if for no other reason than because i know from bitter experience that whining about the mundane is basically just asking for the great equalizer to come down on your pussy ass and really give you something to complain about.


case in point:  a week after posting this self-indulgent nonsense, i woke up with what i hoped was only the flu; two days of denial later i'm checking my near-delirious ass into the emergency room at cedars with full-blown pneumonia [fucked up the new car getting there--prolly shoulda called a cab].

ask "why me?" in the ER but nobody has an answer--apparently it's going around.

flat on my back for four days, they're pumping serious, last-resort antibiotics into my veins around the clock and they don't have to tell me the pneumonia's winning, because i know.

[a scary, lonely time--as is my wont, i hadn't told anybody who really cares about me, so it's just me up there in room 7013]

day five: a corner is turned, and i'm suddenly back.

day seven and i'm outta there--i check myself out against my doctor's wishes, telling him i'll take oral antibiotics, decent food and a good night's sleep against one more night in that goddam hospital any day, pack my shit and, after stops at whole foods and rite-aid, drive my newly fucked-up new car home.

day eleven [i.e., today]:  clean bill of health, lungs are clear, back to normal.

and remember the stultifying job i was bitching about so recently?  all i can say now is, thank god for that lovely motherfucker and the health insurance that came with it [and yeah, as soon as i get the bill we'll play another round of "guess the total"--should be at least as entertaining as last time, right?].

down to me

Everything comes and goes
Marked by lovers and styles of clothes
Things that you held high
And told yourself were true
Lost or changing as the days come down to you
Down to you
Constant stranger
You're a kind person
You're a cold person too
It's down to you
It all comes down to you.


You go down to the pick up station
Craving warmth and beauty
You settle for less than fascination
A few drinks later you're not so choosy
When the closing lights strip off the shadows
On this strange new flesh you've found
Clutching the night to you like a fig leaf
You hurry
To the blackness
And the blankets
To lay down an impression
And your loneliness


In the morning there are lovers in the street
They look so high
You brush against a stranger
And you both apologize
Old friends seem indifferent
You must have brought that on
Old bonds have broken down
Love is gone

                                             joni mitchell, down to you

the way i keep even the people who matter at arms's length, i have no right to be surprised when they're not there for me when the crunch comes, but it's always a bitter pill anyway.