after 7pmI like Cymbalta. I had a panic attack the first Sunday night I was on it, but I knew what to expect and it didn't esclalate. I had been watching too much TV and I had a headache, and when I went to bed the headache was stressing me out, and then suddently the attack was on me.
It's very frightening, I felt disoriented and started sweating profusely. I rolled onto the floor next to the bed and lay there sweating for about five minutes. After that, I was exhausted and couldn't get back into bed for a while, until the sweat started making me chilly.
It was cold out then. It's warm now. It's been warm for a few days. It's odd.
R came back from Galapagos last Thursday. I'd made Marseilles Spinach Stew (with kale and chard instead of spinach) but he wasn't hungry. He'd had a bout of food poisoning or something early in his trip and was slowly recovering. The stew was supposed to be served with an egg poached in the broth placed on a piece of toast and surrounded by the greens and potatoes.
I was hungry. I ate, and the eggs looked good to R, so I made him a couple. I'd also made an organic chocolate banana pie in a graham cracker crust. I had a piece of that, but R didn't touch it until the next day. I can't believe there's still one piece of pie in the fridge.
New Year's Eve, R and I went to Family Wash and then came home to get ready to meet up with Ro for a night out, but I thought better of it and stayed home, smoked a bowl, watched some TV, and was in bed by 10.
R came home at 1:30 - later than he'd planned - and fell asleep on the floor with Bayne, then on the couch a while longer.
We're getting along pretty well. I don't know if it's the Cymbalta or what, but it's nice.
While R was gone, I got real comfortable being by myself. That's definitely a change in me. I'm enjoying my own company more now.
I also don't know if Cymbalta is the cause (or if it was R's absence) but my diarrhea is gone. Yay! One bad thing about being off of the Wellbutrin (I think) is that I'm smoking cigarettes again. I'd like to be able to have one now and again, but it seems I'm quick to start picking them up even when I don't crave one. Like tonight.
I like smoking when I'm driving and with a beer, but I don't want to limit myself to smoking only on those two occasions because I'm afraid I'll take to driving and drinking more than I need or want.
I started futzing with the Regenbogen rules a while back, and then LW and I were at Mafiaoza's and the waiter recognized me as the guy who "invents games" that he'd met a long while ago (possibly the last time I was there) with R. I thought I had emailed him back then and he'd never responded, but he claimed he never heard from me, so we agreed to chalk it up to a breakdown in communication. He gave me his info again and I emailed him when I got home and he wrote back.
Again, I don't know if it's because of the Cymbalta, but I feel like I've been able to focus on something (Regenbogen) more lately than before.
I haven't had much luck focusing on creative writing, though. I bought myself a new notebook to be creative in in the new year - one hour a day at least was my goal. It's only the 3rd, but the first two pages seem like nothing more than trivial doodles.
Actually, I did (do) have an idea that I think could be a good set of short stories called Neighborhood Association. The name doesn't bowl me over, but the idea does. I drew out a little diagram like this:
I didn't have them numbered the same as this, but I just smoked a bowl and it seemed like the better thing to do right now. I had numbered them in the sequence that I thought the stories would be in, but it might be a good exercise to try to explain them in this order. Briefly.
1. is a halfway house (I believe) for three black men and one white one.
2. is a yuppie couple in their first house.
3. is a rednecky sort of house (in my imagination - I don't really know what's going on in any of these boxes). The husband is the son of the widow who lives in 4. She's a longtime citizen of this once very liberal neighborhood. She rents the house next to her to her son and his family. The son's wife is a Rush Limbaugh radical. She smokes long white cigarettes and espouses religious views (on notes that she places on cars, screen doors and in mailboxes) while she busses her kids without even one seatbelt in use.
4. The old liberal widow.
5. A pair of old maid sisters. One spies on the gay man in 6. When her sister catches her, it causes a strain in their relationship they don't know how to deal with. For the first time in many years, they start sleeping in separate beds. They're not sexual, not really - not in their own minds, at the very least - but they are very affectionate with one another; that's how they have managed happiness when passed over by the love of a man. *A good story would be that in their youth, a handsome man came into both of their lives and tried to drive them apart by forcing them to decide which one would be his one and only, and they decided to just go on without him.
6. is the two gay men. Their lives mirror the sisters in 5. in weird ways. They aren't lovers but they sleep together; they have a most unconventional relationship, a strange marriage of convenience. Or a marriage of strange convenience.
7. is a recently widowed man and his middle-aged "bachelor" son. The wife was a good friend of the woman in 4. Her husbad died long ago, shortly after they'd moved to the neighborhood, and he never had an opportunity to really make any friends. The woman he left behind was in a perfect position to make friends. The young wives in the neighborhood came to her aid. She had a small boy. But her husband had a good job and she had a good head for business and she managed to carve out a pretty good life for herself, if not for her son.
It's very frightening, I felt disoriented and started sweating profusely. I rolled onto the floor next to the bed and lay there sweating for about five minutes. After that, I was exhausted and couldn't get back into bed for a while, until the sweat started making me chilly.
It was cold out then. It's warm now. It's been warm for a few days. It's odd.
R came back from Galapagos last Thursday. I'd made Marseilles Spinach Stew (with kale and chard instead of spinach) but he wasn't hungry. He'd had a bout of food poisoning or something early in his trip and was slowly recovering. The stew was supposed to be served with an egg poached in the broth placed on a piece of toast and surrounded by the greens and potatoes.
I was hungry. I ate, and the eggs looked good to R, so I made him a couple. I'd also made an organic chocolate banana pie in a graham cracker crust. I had a piece of that, but R didn't touch it until the next day. I can't believe there's still one piece of pie in the fridge.
New Year's Eve, R and I went to Family Wash and then came home to get ready to meet up with Ro for a night out, but I thought better of it and stayed home, smoked a bowl, watched some TV, and was in bed by 10.
R came home at 1:30 - later than he'd planned - and fell asleep on the floor with Bayne, then on the couch a while longer.
We're getting along pretty well. I don't know if it's the Cymbalta or what, but it's nice.
While R was gone, I got real comfortable being by myself. That's definitely a change in me. I'm enjoying my own company more now.
I also don't know if Cymbalta is the cause (or if it was R's absence) but my diarrhea is gone. Yay! One bad thing about being off of the Wellbutrin (I think) is that I'm smoking cigarettes again. I'd like to be able to have one now and again, but it seems I'm quick to start picking them up even when I don't crave one. Like tonight.
I like smoking when I'm driving and with a beer, but I don't want to limit myself to smoking only on those two occasions because I'm afraid I'll take to driving and drinking more than I need or want.
I started futzing with the Regenbogen rules a while back, and then LW and I were at Mafiaoza's and the waiter recognized me as the guy who "invents games" that he'd met a long while ago (possibly the last time I was there) with R. I thought I had emailed him back then and he'd never responded, but he claimed he never heard from me, so we agreed to chalk it up to a breakdown in communication. He gave me his info again and I emailed him when I got home and he wrote back.
Again, I don't know if it's because of the Cymbalta, but I feel like I've been able to focus on something (Regenbogen) more lately than before.
I haven't had much luck focusing on creative writing, though. I bought myself a new notebook to be creative in in the new year - one hour a day at least was my goal. It's only the 3rd, but the first two pages seem like nothing more than trivial doodles.
Actually, I did (do) have an idea that I think could be a good set of short stories called Neighborhood Association. The name doesn't bowl me over, but the idea does. I drew out a little diagram like this:
I didn't have them numbered the same as this, but I just smoked a bowl and it seemed like the better thing to do right now. I had numbered them in the sequence that I thought the stories would be in, but it might be a good exercise to try to explain them in this order. Briefly.1. is a halfway house (I believe) for three black men and one white one.
2. is a yuppie couple in their first house.
3. is a rednecky sort of house (in my imagination - I don't really know what's going on in any of these boxes). The husband is the son of the widow who lives in 4. She's a longtime citizen of this once very liberal neighborhood. She rents the house next to her to her son and his family. The son's wife is a Rush Limbaugh radical. She smokes long white cigarettes and espouses religious views (on notes that she places on cars, screen doors and in mailboxes) while she busses her kids without even one seatbelt in use.
4. The old liberal widow.
5. A pair of old maid sisters. One spies on the gay man in 6. When her sister catches her, it causes a strain in their relationship they don't know how to deal with. For the first time in many years, they start sleeping in separate beds. They're not sexual, not really - not in their own minds, at the very least - but they are very affectionate with one another; that's how they have managed happiness when passed over by the love of a man. *A good story would be that in their youth, a handsome man came into both of their lives and tried to drive them apart by forcing them to decide which one would be his one and only, and they decided to just go on without him.
6. is the two gay men. Their lives mirror the sisters in 5. in weird ways. They aren't lovers but they sleep together; they have a most unconventional relationship, a strange marriage of convenience. Or a marriage of strange convenience.
7. is a recently widowed man and his middle-aged "bachelor" son. The wife was a good friend of the woman in 4. Her husbad died long ago, shortly after they'd moved to the neighborhood, and he never had an opportunity to really make any friends. The woman he left behind was in a perfect position to make friends. The young wives in the neighborhood came to her aid. She had a small boy. But her husband had a good job and she had a good head for business and she managed to carve out a pretty good life for herself, if not for her son.
No comments:
Post a Comment