Validate me!

just another faggot slutty, but well read

Tuesday, June 17, 2003 :::
Actually, this is really funny!!


I have no idea when I'll talk to any of you, being that I don't have a computer at home, so everybody have a few (or several) drinks, maybee a few lines, on my behalf. Maybee I'll post something soon, from wherever I end up???? There's a big question, fuck!

Until then, have fun kids! Daddy's going on vacation!!!

(I'm surprisingly happy, actually)

::: at 3:07 PM

How to keep your mind off of the fact that you will no doubt be layed-off within the month:

Apply for Canada Arts Council Grants!

::: at 2:21 PM

Monday, June 16, 2003 :::
Alright, so I have some 'splainin to do. I'll do this with one word:


This is how I spent the majority of last week; lying on the floor of my apartment, blaring Broken Social Scene at an very un-neighborly level, and waiting for the call saying wether or not I had SARS. Yes, SARS. The darling little disease that has been causing this city so much trouble was now making a guest appearance in my life, and I don't think I need to tell you that I don't really wish it's company again anytime soon. Now, I should say that it hasn't been shown, yet, that I actually have SARS, but I was exhibiting all of the symptoms in a rather acute fashion. I had a rolling fever, severe dizziness, extremities were going numb, most notably my legs, which seemed to be having an out of body experience all on their own, and the pervasive cough, that at it's worst was so persistent and severe that it made me vomit, but at it's best guaranteed me a seat, hell the whole car!!, on the subway.
Now, going to the doctor during an epidemic is a rather amusing procedure. For starters there's all these new forms to fill out, forms that try to let the doctors and nurses know wether or not you are, and I quote "...a severe threat to public health". These forms are a great idea, until you give them to someone whose going just a tad delirious. I remember stabbing the clipboard a lot, and I recall hitting the list of SARS symptoms, realizing that I had all of them, and telling the receptionist "I think I'm a biohazard??". Oh, and if you're wondering how a disease can spread in this great modern era, what with all our new fandangled technology and medical S-M-A-R-T-ness, just hang around any of the fine Ontario Public Health offices. You see, according to Ontario Health I was supposed to "leave the premises IMMEDIATELY" and head off to one of the SARS clinics which have been set-up so that you can be tested, and then quarantined. Instead, after the receptionist, a nurse, and a bystander (?!), conferred, they decided that I should stay because I was already there, and then I could remove myself from their view of the television, and Days of Our Lives was on and "OMG, so-and-so just got shot. Here, wear this mask, someone will be with you". Sure, I should have taken it upon myself to leave and head off to the appropriate facility, but I was exactly sound of mind at that moment, hell, it took H 2 hrs on the phone to convince me to go to doctor. I had no idea what was going on, so I just went with what the (apparently) trained professionals were telling me to do.
As far as the actually exam went? Well, the usual physical, turn you're head and cough kinda bullshit. Except that there was a hell of a lot more coughing. I felt really sorry or the person that was going into that room after me, cause there wasn't an inch that I didn't hack all over, guaranteeing a veritable petri dish of microscopic nasties waiting for some poor, unsuspecting schmuck, who just wants to refill his Viagra prescription. The same followed during the x-rays. Maybe they worry less in there due to all the radiation, but after neither exam did I see anyone wipe anything, no matter how much phlegm I spattered on everything. Next time I'm bringing handi-wipes.
So after completing their little ad-hoc physical, they decided that they had "no idea" and "not a clue" what was wrong with me, but decided to err on the side of safety and quarantine me until they got the results from some other tests. This was as close as they came to sensical behavior during my whole 2hrs there. They gave me a little mask, yes, that stupid fucking white coffee-filter-placebo, that was apparently supposed to protect the general public from whatever I had. Well, the general public that weren't going to be in that doctors office, or the counter where I got my prescriptions, or the x-ray centre, or the Starbucks that I killed time at. They, it seems, don't count.
So I had to walk home, still delirious, wearing a little white paper mask. It was really, really, really, embarrassing. Not the good embarrassing, the "please, if you have a heart stop staring at me" embarrassing. If I had passed out on the street, which there was a very good chance of, I think that they would have simply put up some pylons, so that there wasn't any danger of anyone tripping over me. Fortunately, though, I made it home, and after passing out for a few hours, I sat, for 3 fucking days, in my little bachelor apartment, waiting for those idiots to tell me wether or not I was part of the problem. Fri, I received the call. They don't know. It could be SARS, it could be bronchitis, they'll get back to me. In the meantime, I was allowed to wonder the streets again. Sure they still thought that there was a chance that I might have something relatively contagious and nasty, but it was so nice out that they thought I should go and get some sun. No I didn't wear the stupid mask.
I feel fine now. I actually feel great. My little sojourn gave me time to clean my apartment, do some laundry (delicates, in the bathtub), and write my grant proposal. I was quite shocked that it even looks like a grant proposal!! Usually these things come out looking like, well, this blog; a mish-mash of nonsequitors that could have meant something, but this time it has taken on the shape of an actual idea. I'm thinking I should quarantine myself more often.
So that's the scoop on my little run-in with a media frenzy. As per the usual, it amounted to nothing but a lot of questions, and moments that I'm probably going to try to forget, like when I had to prop myself up against that porno store on Yonge, just to get some rest for a second, only to have a stream of tourists walk by and comment on the fact that it looked like I was dry-humping the glass. Yeah, I think we'll be repressing that one.

::: at 11:48 AM

Jockohomo The Rabbit Dogpoet SoBlo Mr Trinity Garloo Kitty Bukkake Homo Lame-O Jonno Sturtle Chromewaves artisforlosers whoeouldbuythat? Addaboy Vaginal Creme Davis Bruce Labruce The Threepenny Review abebooks Butt Fag Mag Trueboy e/j/j/y safe from bees Watercolour Boy sensualpoet sissy space chick blah blog chrisafer peaeye honeytom Eurotrash akafrankgreen fucking trash ubereric

slutty, but well read

Powered by Blogger