2002-06-17 - 11:42 a.m.
Do antibiotics make anyone else out there kind of dopey? I�ve been on amoxicillin for bronchitis this past week and I�ve been unable to string two coherent thoughts together. Granted, that�s never stopped me from updating before, but it�s been especially bad this time. It�s as if someone opened up the top of my skull and poured in a quart of dirty motor oil. Or cleared butter. Or room-temperature unflavored Jell-O. Something warm and semi-viscous like that.
Anyway, I�m feeling better this week. You miss me?
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What sucks about being sick right now is that this is the best time of year to be outdoors in San Diego. The pollen count is down, the air is clean, the jacaranda tree out front is almost done dripping sap on my car--meaning I�ll be able to hose and/or chisel off the residue anytime now without it being an exercise in futility--and it�s just warm enough to wear shorts outside.
I love early late spring. It�s even nicer than late early summer.
And if any of you are about to pipe up with, "Southern California doesn�t have seasons," don�t. People who tell me the weather here is boring are cordially invited to blow me--and I�ve made good on that invitation numerous times. Our seasons may be subtler than Minnesota�s and not involve nine months of ballsack-shriveling cold, but they do exist. Just spend a year here and find out.
On second thought, I take that back. We�re too crowded already with refugees from places with "real seasons." Stay home. Please.
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So my 20-year high school reunion is coming up in October. Whoo hoo. A bunch of drunken men and women on the cusp of middle age, flinging themselves arthritically across a dance floor while a deejay who was in daycare back in 1982 spins "Rock Lobster" and "Whip It." All this and more for just $80 a head. Where do I sign up?
Actually, my feelings about the whole thing are profoundly neutral. Any lingering issues from my adolescence were put to rest at my 10-year reunion--it wasn�t the best night I�ve ever spent in a hotel ballroom but at least I got some closure to go with my rubber chicken. So the idea of attending my 20-year reunion doesn�t repulse me to the extent it does most of my friends. (To quote one of the people I hung out with back then and still keep in touch with: "Sure, I�ll go, if I don�t have anything better to do. Like fuck a cactus without lube.")
On the other hand, I can think of better ways to spend 80 bucks, some of which carry less risk of disease. So we�ll see.
***
This weekend I happened across the Spanish-language tutorial CD I bought two years ago. At the time I thought it would be a good idea to learn Spanish in case George W. Bush came to power and I found myself wanting to flee to Mexico. I still think it might be a good idea.
Which is why the CD hasn�t yet been consigned to Miguelito�s Archive of Half-Finished Self-Improvement Projects. Said archive is a cardboard box in my closet filled with about 25 years� worth of various items that seemed like a good idea at the time. Among the contents:
* A home wine-tasting "class," complete with a notebook and two plastic wine goblets, one of which was smashed during my move to San Diego.
* A home brewery kit, only used once. My nut-brown stout received rave reviews: "This tastes like sewer backwash." "Bleh!" "Oh my God, I think I saw something move in there."
* A copy of Origami for Beginners. I bought this in 12th grade after seeing Blade Runner. Like many 12th-graders, I felt I was lacking a unique identity and so I decided to co-opt one from the movies. My plan was to transform myself into a silent, intimidating figure who left cryptic little origami animals wherever he went as a sort of running commentary. Unfortunately, extreme short stature and zits don�t translate into "intimidating," I couldn�t be silent if my life depended on it, and the pieces of paper that came with the book turned out to be great for rolling joints. So much for that plan.
* A home mummification kit--complete with one of those pointed ivory tools the Egyptians used to puree the mummy-to-be�s brains so they�d run out his or her nostrils.
Oh, hey--I just figured out how those antibiotics make me feel.
***
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