Sunday, December 23, 2007
I have been enjoying the worst bout of PMS of all my womanhood, which began at age 11, if bleeding is to be the marker. 10 days of being out of sorts with my body, everything's swollen to pitch, to say nothing of 'irritable bitch'. This morning I grew nauseous and almost fainted in Target (but WTF! was I doing in Target?!). I did manage to get myself home, but only in time to lie down for three hours of migraine-grade headache. There was an afternoon poet-xmas-birthday thing to go to; I was an hour late, and weak, and sweaty, but happy to see my fellows! Poet A is having a work crisis; Poet B saw Poet C in the hospital yesterday. Poet D didn't introduce me to famous writer (obviously, not a poet) E, but it wasn't on purpose. I support Poet F 's dislike of his terrible neighbors, he has real reason to. Poet G gently reminds his partner to check her calendar every month when she's feeling blue, but not, he was sure to say, when they are having a fight. Poet H says take calcium and magnesium, it really helps. There was one baby, at least one grandma. My stomach hurt, I couldn't eat the food or cakes. I didn't drink, which, given the season and the poor tires on my car, is a real blessing. Music being played by several humans in the front room of what truly is a railroad operation/house. I'd never been to that part of Albany before. Actually, maybe I'd never been to Albany before! I was reading Under Albany before going to target/almost-fainting/getting the migraine /going to Albany Can I blame all this on Silliman? That just wouldn't be fair. Or it would be; my physical misery aside, it was a sweet afternoon and a lovely party. It's nice to say Merry Xmas and Happy Birthday Nick Robinson.