Hello, Pain

Tonight, I ended my six week long hiatus from the gym. And pulled a muscle in the neighborhood of my coccyx. Other than that, it was a good workout: I got a nice pump and my weight is 186. But afterwards, as I made my way to the Factory Cafe for dinner, it was as though I was walking a tightrope. Sitting at my favorite stool in the window, I thought it might have eased up. But when I stood up, I found that the apt verb was 'seized' rather than 'eased.'

I kind of get giggly when this happens. The pain isn't that bad, and it gives various activities (like walking the dog) a sort of sitcom quality. Also, I've come to associate muscular injury with softball, and those are pleasant associations.

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Here at home, I'm icing my coccyx. Sadly, I have a growing list of 'Things To Do' outside of work that just aren't getting my time and attention. Hate that. Among them, going into Citibank and appyling for a Home Equity Line of Credit for my place in Fort Lauderdale. That will make me feel pretty groan up. When I was with my Ex, together we went and applied for a HELOC on the house we owned together. Drawing down on that was one of the things that made my leaving possible (rent and security deposit on the new apartment, moving expenses, some new furniture). I really should have a job making twice what I do now, but... well... I don't. And, I doubt I would welcome the pressures that would go with a job like that.

Archangel the Bad Kisser said (among other things) that he felt that everyone should take a year off at some point. For him, that year was disability, and it turned into five,and now he is climbing the walls hoping to return to work. (I'm going to see if I can't help him out with that. Perhaps there are contacts I can make through the New Job.)

I've been getting 'disk full' error messages on my trusty iBook. Surely that can't be true. Well, then again, I have over a thousand MP3 files loaded on there. I did a brief purge this evening, but I doubt that bought me many megabites.

If I get a HELOC, maybe I can buy a G5... Yo. No way to think.

After this week, I work for three days, then I go to celebrate Thanksgiving with my parents (I'm being very generous with the use of that term; it'll be all about service; my step-mother's health is such that I'm going down on Wednesday night to cook dinner for my family and let her think she did it). Then, I head off to Seattle for the Harm Reduction Conference to give my presentation on barebacking. I suppose I should put my thoughts on the subject in some sort of coherent order before I head out. Egads. Former Board Chair will doubtless be there. Not looking forward to running into her in the elevator.

This Thursday night, I'm attending the screening of a film called 'Fight Back! Fight AIDS!' It's a documentary of ACT UP. It'll basically be sitting in a theater mostly filled with people I haven't seen in about ten years, trying to spot myself on the screen. Or rather, a ten year old version of myself. Talking to Past President earlier, I was reminded of the Hoffman LaRoche action we did in Nutley, New Jersey, shutting down their vast campus in February but chaining ourselves together inside metal pipes at each of the many entrances. Those were heady days, feeling conviction and a rightness of purpose that I haven't felt since about any thing. If I had the time and attention, I'd do a series of entries on this blog of ACT UP reminiscences. Shouting down Dan Quayle, chaining myself to the gates of Gracie Mansion in the pre-dawn hours, marching across the Brooklyn Bridge with 10,000 other people to preserve the Division of AIDS Services, doing an illegal Activist March Against AIDS in the Tradition of Stonewall up 5th Avenue on the 25th Anniversary of the Stonewall Uprising, wrestling a ladder away from cops in front of the Pharmaceutical Manufacturer's Association HQ in DC, and, trying to fulfill the dying request of a guy who wanted his body dumped on the lawn of the (newly elected) Clinton White House. Yeah. Really. That was me. At times, I felt like I was part of an elite commando squad in the fight against AIDS. Many of the results we achieved actually did change things. But, as I've come to realize, the march of history is beyond anyone's ability to compass it. We are able to barely tinker around the edges. It's all in God's hands. But think of the Doctor in Camus' The Plague: Act As If.

Anyway. Gotta be up early tomorrow.

I put in a call to Does Mean Well tonight, who will be visiting shortly. I like him.