More fearful day, nerves, trying not to think about it. Lots of work, a nice distraction. Phone call from WS and good wishes from CG and KP make me smile.

I'm awful tired. I guess tomorrow I'll get plenty of sleep.

Not a bad day but I want to be better now.

Of course also I am reminded that I am precluded from donating blood for the next year or so because of the new bone graft, which was kindly donated by someone whose soul has gone elsewhere. I thank him or her for their humble donation of a tiny sliver of bone so that I may once again look both ways before crossing the street, without my arm going dead. Some day I hope that my body parts (dwindling in number yearly it would seem) will be as useful to someone else.

Several people did not get their posters. I wonder how many of the tubes I sent never arrived. This worries me but it is not a big disaster, as much as my mind wants to tell me that it is. We'll continue to promote the band and more posters will go out.

Lots of health problems in the family, many, like mine, self-inflicted of a sort. Numb left arm. Must sleep.

Very sleepy in the afternoon, took a nap, checked some mail, took more nap. Watched E.R. Avoided Gary Condit. Yesterday I watched the landing. God I miss my old job. I hope Karen got 'em all on the first stick.

I have to be vewwy, vewwy careful (as Mike would say) to avoid doing this to myself again.

A simple ping from a friend this evening brings bright light into an otherwise dismal day. Still no word from my long lost boss.

By popular demand, they added another Crystal Reports class to the one I was supposed to teach next month. Some of my former clients will not be happy when they learn I am not teaching it. I'm sure MD will do a great job.

Mark teaches a form of dancing called Round Dancing, which is like ballroom dancing except that there are cuers, sort of like square dancing. So it's ballroom type dancing and Mark tells the dancers what to do. Mark needs some new equipment, and wants to put it all in a rack. Today's mission was to look at what was available. I did sneak a few sad, longing looks at the various guitars, but they are still a little heavy for me to pick up without discomfort. Later, we went to PetSmart and bought more fish. That was about it for me. I came home, watched Mr. Roberts (yes, the WWII movie with Henry Fonda, one of my favorites) Battlebots, and rested.

I wonder what is so different about me that I like these things, like Battlebots, Ham Radio and King Crimson, that are obviously mostly male dominated. I don't want to be a man, and I do like men (but I am finding out that many Battlebots, Ham Radio, and King Crimson fans are just too "out there" for me). So I am left with this strange behavior of mine. The last man I had a serious relationship with (TATDML) hated the Adrian Belew concert I dragged him to (sound familiar, guys? I should have known he was an asshole just by the mere fact that he didn't enjoy Adrian Belew). I wonder what other people think but I guess it really doesn't matter. Unless you're trying to get a date.

The current book I am (re) reading is "A Deepness in the Sky" by Verner Vinge. It is about a race of Spiders and the humans that travel to try to conquer/do trade with them. And CG thinks he has spider problems. This is another Science Fiction book that I would love to write a screenplay for, the other being "Snow Crash" by Neil Stephenson. Science Fiction... just another one of those "male" things.

Mom sent some 20-odd photographs of paintings she has done. Tomorrow's task, if I can sit that long, is to categorize and post them.

The nails on my left hand are getting very long. This means I haven't played my guitar in a long time. Kind of depressing. When I do pick the guitar back up, will I be starting over? Email from Scott gives me hope that our little circle will live on, and I'll be getting the help I need.

I feel like I've let the Trio down, some people did not get their posters and the merch people are not as well informed as I'd like. Once again my health gets in the way of my doing a good job. I am so sick of being sick, and I'm so very sick of my health interfering with my life. I miss Bill.

Missed yesterday both mentally and diary-wise. I think I am depressed. I know I am depressed. It is very hard for me to do any work, I haven't turned in a time sheet for 3 weeks. I feel like crap. Part of this is the Vicodin. Last time I did this I swore up and down that I was going to write an essay about how overprescribed Vicodin is. It's so addictive, and so dangerous.

I have enough work thrown my way that I could work 10 hour days and not get it done. They don't seem to understand that I've just had my neck sliced open, a disk sucked out, a hole drilled in two vertebrae, a bone graft inserted, and a metal plate screwed into the veretbrae. Not to mention the fact that everything in my neck was retracted so far they thought they tore things. Don't forget the disk compressing my spinal cord. Finally emailed my boss, telling him that I did indeed survive and I am trying to get approval from my doctor to work part time. His terse response: Thanks.

Pam is out sick too, with an injured foot she can't dance or clean house. We brought a cleaning service in, three woman and a 7 year old girl. Why is this child not in school? And why am I supposed to watch this child to make sure that she does not completely destroy this non-child-resistant house?

What am I going to do?

Tomorrow night is the Smokin' Granny show. I hope I can come. I am off the hook for merch, they have someone else to help. We'll see how I feel.

Hoped to stay for Man on Fire but my arms are tired. Posted my usual anti-MDA admonition to Pathways, which I will repost here:

If any of you guys were at the Houston show, you were introduced to Kirk, the guy that does the roadcam stuff. Kirk is a brilliant programmer. He also has muscular dystrophy, you may have noticed that he is in a wheelchair.

It is that time of year when Jerry Lewis gets on the TV and begs for money. It is also that time of year when I tell people "Don't Do It." Kirk and I used to be married and we're still close friends (long story, guys). MDA treated him like dirt. They never did anything for him, and were frankly belligerent to him. Any equipment he has is either out of his pocket, paid for by Medicare or the State of Texas. MDA never paid for squat. They're simply an insurance clearing house. So if you've always wondered if MDA is any good, now you have your answer.

So when they come asking you to give to Muscular Dystrophy, do like Kirk does, and say "no thanks, I've already got some." Or just say no.

Yes, that's right, I used to be married to the roadcam guy, and I'm damn proud of it.