Form/ula

andy p will be exhausted today, no time or energy for a form/ula —

at 8:30am is the lithium level reading, it has been a perfect 12 hours since the last dose (i took it at 8:30pm making the 8:30am a potentially perfect read: i bet the level is high — hence the bob and weave — but goodman won’t want to reduce it, and so i will walk crookedly for the forseeable future). i suppose if it is low — the blood rather than the dose — she will raise it from 450 to 600 (the lowest interval change in dosage avail is 150) and then we’ll see if a tremor (which i never get) (re)turns. one downside of the morning’s stresses is that I will be walking around all day with a taped bandage with gauze on my most generous vein on my most effective arm, likely on the left . I will bear my cross with devotion to my comrades, but i know that the ordinary others may silently inquire: “What is wrong with that boy?” To which I can only respond: “How old do you think i am?”

the other drugs are running smoothly, i suppose, but since we can’t isolate the variables — or even know what the variables are — then psychiatry cannot be secure in its classification as a “science.” there is no blood test to conform schizophrenia, and there is no x-ray to determine depression, et al. so the reader can see that psychiatry might overcompensate for its own castration by an overbearing approach to the patient.

back to my schedule: after the top of the day morning lab at cambridge hospital, i will turn around in anticipation of my second bivalent booster (which is the fourth or fifth), and since i lie on the cvs intake form that i am immuno-compromised (which i am not), i can get the supplemental booster with my medical “disability,” or so i demand, at the earliest point in the cdc calendar. there is the possibility that cvs will think that a lab test and a booster shot are too much in one day, but i will only make visible the one right arm (not the other left arm upon which was inflected the original violation). in any case, i think hippa makes it impossible for them to inquire about either my purported ill immuno system or my bandaged with gauze hole in my other arm.

Then shortly after this, i will further prance toward lechmere to the apple store where i have a brilliant bar appointment with (hopefully) a young blond boy who will (hopefully) fix the reception (i’ve already been to the frat house that is the xfinity store in allston, i solidly loss at beer pong and was referred to apple ) — on my phone, as well as the dysfunction on the music app, the latter of which is more tortuous than not having access to the real phone, which i hardly use anymore.

i resent the email to trevor from december. i’m not sure why i didn’t get a response (i returned his earlier msg), perhaps he is (getting a) divorce(d) and he’s ashamed, especially since i implored him to get rid of her a long time ago, esp after her faux suicide attempt (she was certainly borderline, the absolute worst kind of mental disturbance) — and to fuck me on a consistent quality basis. or perhaps he now has an actual boyfriend, which might be awkward for both of us. but i do miss his floppy hair and endogenous asshole.

i had a nightmare last night that rich, in response to my dropping the book off at the store, responded to me with an email application to 1369. Of course, I am looking for a date — not a form or a job — and so i chalked this “ironic” mistake up to his age, which i now think is 24 as opposed to 26 or 32. i’m not sure why he wanted me to to fill out the form — more work for me — but i suppose this is one of those (unconscious) games that frightened people try to pull off as cleverness. nightmare, i told you. anyway, the dream ended with a magic trick.

it is possible that i am wrong about this nightmare so i’ll defer my final judgment until rich fills out his (re)application form — applying not for his job but for me. now, that would be clever.

The obverse would be stupid, as i’ve already applied to him several times.

i think i will be too tired to visit barista #1 today, and i think he is off on fridays anyway, so i will not venture downtown (which is quite the commuterational investment in mason). it will be impossible to rid him of his *wife* that I have discovered by attentive listening, and his closet, which is the proviso of his *marriage.* so i guess what is left to do is: 1) assault him; and then 2) get over him.

it’s so interesting to witness the choices that people make when there are better options available.

In times of crisis, the only way forward is: honesty —

love andy pink

mine, flaccid: