Latest News...

* I have pharyngitis. It's an inflammation of the pharynx which is somewhere in your throat. I spent most of the day Sunday at Washington Hospital getting fluids pumped into me, peeing into cups, getting blood drawn, and having my chest x-rayed. I am now on antibiotics so I feel a little better. I return to work tomorrow. I cannot eat very much.
* Remember the recent post about the two lovers in Dupont having the quarrel? Remember the guy in the trenchcoat, not the one who spoke to me? I ran into him today when I was having lunch with Becca in Adams Morgan. Here's the conversation:
Man: Hey, do you think I could sing you a song for some change?
Becca and I: Sure!
Man: It's an opera.
Becca and I: Cool.
Man: Do you want the whole symphony or just a piece?
B: I think we'll just hear the piece. We're in a rush.
M: Okay.
I guess we were wrong when we assumed this vagabond was maybe classically trained. He proceeds to sing the most horrific song we had ever heard. And it wasn't even really an opera. It was something he probably wrote himself, about woodland creatures and loving cougars. So fucked up. I kept think to myself, "Thank GOD we didn't ask for the symphony!" I am cracking up the whole time. He ceases singing.
B&I: Wow! That was really cool! (we hand him a couple of dollars)
M: Hey, you know, this donation is enough for a copy of the song. Would you like to own your own personal copy of this song?
B&I: No, you know we're in a rush but thanks so much. That was very... enjoyable.
M: Well, thank you! And thank you sweetie! (as he reaches over and like grazes Rebecca's back)
We escape into The Diner.
He was wearing the same trench coat as the first time I saw him. It is 93 degrees outside. He had very bad teeth. One is brown. He has ugly toenails.
*DC still loves me. I got hit on twice yesterday, despite my ghostly pallour and disheveled hair and congested nature. Once, at the CVS on 14th and Irving by a man in a pink linen pantsuit/jumpsuit contraption with white gator boots. The second time was on Mt. Pleasant at the bus station by an African man who was talking to me about respect. How life is all about respect. How life is good when you respect yourself. And how respect is like basketball (?). And how every woman in the world is his friend. Every woman, his mother, his wife, his sister, is his friend. Oh, yes, and then he told me he loved me.

I am going to go rest up now. For a bit.