Might help you know

“I love you”

Yet neither verse nor prose

are marked in time or children or made of those

feelings to be shared completely

though both are scared

and both are guilty

dragging on in an endless morning
of cold gray drizzle like cool piss running down my forehead

running while he’s running next to the woman his woman would hate were she to know how short her shorts are

but there’s only the run and none of the fun she thinks he’ll have with her and he knows it’s not gonna happen… not here.. not now… not on this cold, dark, soggy, type-A-personality-infested path next to this woman who’s afraid of the dark and wants him there if only to reassure herself it’s safe to run

and to keep her thoughts to herself about this man running next to her, egging her on, silently daring her to keep thinking and breathing and pushing and moving and running through the rain which isn’t going to stop just because they’d both like it to

It doesn’t work like that…

It’s not about favors or flavors of the day or warmth in the winter or a good run with a better woman… It’s not about the run or the trail or the rain… or the dog wagging his tail as he drags his master from side to side looking for a better smell… It’s not about all those years he’s spent thinking about a chance like this… to be next to her and to feel her breath close on his shoulder…

It’s about this fucking day

dragging on in an endless morning

You’d think I’d be used to it by now. I’ve faced mortality more than once. Illness, drugs, guns, car-wrecks. I’ve been through all of this and so you’d think I wouldn’t be so surprised.

The difference is, this time it felt old.

On New Year’s Eve I left the party I was at early. I was starting to feel sick and I wanted to be home. By the time I got there I had what felt like awful gas and pretty bad pain. I took some Gas-X, some Pepto Bismol and some Tylenol and went to bed.

I had recurring bouts of discomfort until one night a couple months ago it was so bad I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Noi and I had gone to eat at Flemming’s. I had a filet mignon and a Coke. About half-way through the meal I felt the pain coming on. By the time we got home, I was on the floor doubled-over in pain and nothing was helping. Noi and I were about half-way to the Seton emergency room when I felt the pain start to dissipate. By the time we got there it was gone, but I admitted myself anyway.

The emergency room physician listened to my account of the symptoms and suggested I either had a bad gallbladder or an ulcer. He gave me an ultra-sound which showed my gallbladder to be normal (no stones). What he didn’t tell me was that it also showed my gallbladder had thickened walls. I would later come to find out that thickened walls in gallbladders is a sign of irritation – something that almost always is a result of stones – in men my age or younger.

So. I had an ulcer. The next day I made an appointment with a GI and in the meantime I started taking Omeprazole – a proton pump inhibitor which decreases the production of acid in the stomach. I also stopped eating Noi’s spicy food for good measure.

A quick trip to the GI and I was scheduled for an endoscopy. For those who don’t know, this is where they give you a heavy sedative (but not general anethesia) and they stick a camera down your gizzard so they can take a look-see at your stomach and small intestine. Surprise Surprise Surprise!

No ulcer… While he was at it he took a biopsy for a type of bacteria (H. Pylori) which is now thought to be associated with ulcers (more so than stress) – nothing. He also looked around for cancer and ciliac sprue (which would indicate gluten intolerance) – nada.

At this point I was starting to get a little wigged out. I asked the doctor what the next step was and he suggested we check for lactose intolerance. Okay… fine… and yet… nothing. It was while were having this conversation that he mentioned that my gallbladder walls were thicker than normal. I asked him how he knew this and he referred back to the ultra-sound from the emergency room visit previously. He didn’t seem to think it led anywhere and I let it go. It bugged me, but I didn’t know enough to keep pressing. We left the conversation with me asking if he needed to start looking up the other end and him saying he didn’t – that he didn’t think it was necessary.

So now I had nothing. The GI suggested I keep taking the Omeprazole (why?) and suggested pro-biotics (even though he hadn’t found anything abnormal about the bacteria in my stomach). I went home and wondered when I was going to have another attack.

There were several, but I was equipped with Hydroco-Apap and Dicyclomine. They didn’t fully kill the pain but they rendered it non-meaningful by virtue of the fact they laid me out flat on my ass for about 4 hours at a time. Interestingly enough, I noticed – while on the pain killers – that the general massive pain I felt all across my abdomen was replaced by a dull aching throb just above and to the right of my belly button.

I had started doing some reading and came across the symptoms of gallbladder disease. The location of the pain was similar but I wasn’t throwing up. There were times when I had been nauseated but this was only when the pain was so bad I’d stick my fingers down my throat because it seemed like it might be a good idea. (Other times I did things like push-ups just to see if I could scare the pain away by making it think I was crazy)

One of the things the readings suggested was that attacks could be brought on by fatty foods such as red meat. The gallbladder’s function is to collect bile from the liver and reduce it down to a thicker, stronger super-bile which is then excreted into the duodenum where it really does a number on the fat which was just deposited there from the stomach.

I started to experiment. I’d go two or three days just eating veggies and would basically feel okay. Then I’d eat a burger for lunch and by dinner time I was back on the floor.

I did this several times and then called the GI and said I wanted a HIDA scan. I explained what I’d been up to and he agreed.

The HIDA scan is a test where they pump you full of a radioactive isotope that shows up in your liver and is then excreted into your gallbladder and into your intestinal tract. They watch all this on a computer screen (you can watch it too… you need to because you’re laying there on the bed for up to an hour waiting for all of it to happen. After your gallbladder shows to be full, they pump you full of a hormone (produced normally by the stomach) that triggers your gallbladder into releasing the bile into the duodenum.

In my case we never got to the second part. Nothing ever showed up in my gallbladder. 1 hour… 2 hours… 3 hours.. nothing. The tech consulted with the radiologist who decided another ultra-sound was in order. Within about 15 minutes we had a diagnosis – Gallstones. My gallbladder showed to be completely “deflated” and there was a big long stone right in the tube where the bile goes in and out. We compared this to the image from the previous ultra-sound and it showed something completely different. That picture showed a GB full of bile, and no stone.

I asked the radiologist why it wasn’t seen in the previous one and he didn’t have an answer. I asked him why my GI didn’t pursue the gallbladder himself (you’ll recall I had to request the HIDA scan) and he suggested that a sick gallbladder without stones is unheard of in men my age. If I had been 80 and diabetic… sure… This was why he stopped the HIDA scan and did the 2nd ultra-sound. The symptoms just weren’t lining up. There had to be a stone.

This was a huge relief. It’s GOOD to know you don’t have cancer of the “something down deep inside” and yet, in the case of a gallbladder it meant I would definitely be having surgery.

Stay tuned for my next entry where I’ll relate that story, complete with details!

Today I went to the mall to take a look. Well fuck me. I’m gonna have to buy one, and I’m not going to be surprised at all if their ebook implementation doesn’t beat Sony, B&N and Amazon all to hell.

Of course, the major play on those readers is the e-Ink display (easy on the eyes – similar to newsprint) and the major savings in battery life. iPad is still and LCD display, and if looking at an LCD bothers your eyes then there you have it.

But when you consider just how bad-ass their book implementation is AND the fact that you can do so many other things with it… the iPad wins.

That said, I’m going to wait for the 3G version to come out. I probably won’t enable that any time soon, but I’ll want to have it for when I do.

My gut – having read the review – is that the author is making a larger statement about the marketing hype than about the actual utility of the device. It’s clear he isn’t into e-readers.

I landed on his site as part of my research to determine if I would switch over from Sony to Kindle.

I think he’s missing the point. The main draw of these devices is really 2 things:

1. The portability. This is a huge win for those of us who travel frequently.

2. The screen. It has the contrast of news print w/o any backlighting. Much easier on they eyes than an LCD.

Taken together, it makes complete sense that we (travelers) are going to buy one or the other of these devices – even at the high price-point, bad economy or no.

I’m in agreement that it’s not a world-changer. No starving Somalians are to be helped here. That said, it makes sense to think about these kinds of items in a broader context.

The e-readers are in their infancy. There will come a time when there are no magazines and no books printed on paper. There will come a time when we do our reading in ways we haven’t even yet begun to fathom.

It will still be reading.

Of course you aren’t going to see these devices on subways, trains and busses just yet. But you are starting to see them on airplanes. It just a matter of time before they are commodotized (sp?) and will be as ubiquitous as the books and magazines they are meant to replace.

As for me, I’m still on the fence. I don’t know if I’m going to make the switch over to Kindle yet or not. It remains to be seen.

And there you have it. I have spoken on this matter and your lives have been enriched. Go forth and prosper.

Work has gotten weird. My latest project is based in Japan and so sleep this week is caught in little snatches of 2 or 3 hrs.

I just said “snatches”.

The main outcome of sleeping in this fashion is that I perpertually feel like I’m in a foggy twilight zone.

Anyway – we’ll give it another try.

It sucks because there you are… sitting in biz class… seated prior to all the poor bastards who have to sit in cattle class feeling superior as you sip your orange juice and look up your nose at them as they file past you… looks of despair, envy, or in some cases – faked apathy… and then you see her.

She’s young… beautiful… She radiates vibrant energy and complete confidence as she puts her hand on the seat to stabilize herself as the line comes to a halt. Your eyes meet… and there is a common understanding. It’s as if you are speaking though no words are spoken…

“Hey there… wow… look at you…”
“Yeah.. I can see you are looking at me… could you please roll up your tongue and put it back in your mouth?”
“Oh… was I doing that in real life? Sorry… didn’t mean to offend…”
“Yeah.. no.. it’s okay… I get that alot when I pass through business class…”
“Oh… just passing through? I was hoping maybe you were going to be sitting here in 15B.”
“Oh silly… don’t you know? You can’t pick up chicks in Business Class!”, she laughs…
“Yeah… well.. I mean I knew that… was even thinking about writing about it now that you mention it… but yeah…was hoping you were gonna sit here…”
“Aww… Well listen, I’m back in Coach. That’s where we all sit… you wanna pick us up, you gotta sit back there!”
“No shit… I’ll keep that in mind.”

And with that, the line starts moving again and she moves past me into oblivion…

WHERE’S THE CASH!?

I logged on to paypal today to check it out and there hasn’t been a single donation to my worthy cause. And no.. I don’t want to hear anything from all you whiners about how I should get a job. I’ve got a job and one that pays pretty damn well too! The only problem is, it’s not enough to MAKE DAVID RICH and that’s just not gonna fly anymore.

So here’s what I want you to do.

1. Go to facebook and join the group “Make David Rich”.

2. Join in the lively discussion in the forum. State your opinions. Don’t be afraid to opine. But in the end swing on back around to my viewpoint.

3. Dig deep and pull out 50 cents or 20 bucks or what-have-you and give it to me via my paypal account.

It’s kinda like sex. It’s easy, it feels good, and after it’s all over you wonder where all your money went!

“Dear Penthouse Forum,

I never thought it would happen to me, and now that it still hasn’t, I thought I simply just HAD to write to tell you all about what it wasn’t…”

Perhaps the letter I would have written if really HAD happened. Of course.. it didn’t…

Tonight the kids and I went and ate at the Fuddrucker’s over in Brody Oaks Plaza. This is one of the many places I worked at when I was a teenager and is, therefore, one of the many places I was fired from. Of course, the kids were only slightly less bored by this fact than they were by the Great American Hotdog Eating Contest which was showing on the multiple televisions arrayed strategically around the dining room. There’s no fucking way you aren’t gonna watch TV at Fuddrucker’s. They’ve made certain of that.

As we were leaving, I drove around the back of the shopping center. That’s when I remembered her.

I don’t remember her name, but I do remember her beautiful brown hair… her dark eyes… the downy softness of her moustache.

That’s right. She had a moustache and had not figured out that the dark hair over the upper lip was reminiscent of Freddy Mercury and none too attractive. And yet, to me, she was beautiful…

“My sister is in Penthouse.” She said it as if it were a challenge. We were hanging out in the wooded area just behind the shopping center. We were on our lunch break and were both decked out in our white jeans and white Fuddrucker’s shirts. It was the uniform du jour for Fuddrucker’s – the upscale burger joint we both worked at.

“Oh yeah?” I replied. I wasn’t sure what to do with that information in the same way I wasn’t sure what to do with this girl who was hanging out in the woods with me.

“Yeah… she didn’t get the centerfold or anything but she’s in there. You should check it out… she’s really pretty.”

“Uh… yeah.. okay… sure…” What was I supposed to say to that? I was 16, looked all of about 12 and the only way I had ever gotten my hands on a dirty magazine was either by finding them in dumpsters or by digging them out from under my father’s friend’s closet when we were visiting his house. I sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to just pick up a copy of her naked sister on display at the nearest 7-11!

“You ever been with a girl?” she asked.

“Uh… well.. I mean… I’m with you right now!”

“No dumbass… I mean… have you ever been WITH a girl? I mean… have you ever… you know… gotten laid?”

“Ohhhh… “ I said it as if it spoke for itself. Of course, I never had. I’d never even been close. The most I’d ever done w/a girl at that point was to kiss my mother’s friend’s daughter on the lips when we were about 8. After that everything kind of came to a stop.

“So have you? I bet you haven’t… I bet you’re still a virgin.”

“Uhh well.. I mean… yeah… well I mean.. no… I mean.. yeah… I’m still a virgin. I guess.”

“You guess. You’ve either done it or you haven’t done it. It’s not an ‘I guess’ kind of thing.” Her tone was mean. I was the smallest thing in the world at that moment.

“Well I mean… yeah.. I’m a virgin… okay? I’ve never done it with anyone. What about you? Have you?”

“Duh! Of course I have! Who hasn’t done it?” I was surprised by this. As far as I knew none of my friends had done it. The fact that she had seemed completely out of place to me.

“Oh yeah? Who did you do it with?” I asked this, not realizing I might not want to know the answer. I asked it, not knowing she might not want to tell me. In any case, I wasn’t prepared for what followed.

She shouted, “I don’t want to talk about it okay!”, and then got up and ran up the short hill to the road behind the shopping center. When I caught up to her, she was crying and wouldn’t speak to me. We walked most of the way back to the restaurant in silence. Then, as we got near the back door she turned to me and said, “You tell anyone and I’ll hunt you down and kill you. I’ll cut your head off and shit down your neck. You fucking tell anyone and I’ll make you wish you were dead!”

I kind of wished I was anyway. “Hey look I’m sorry… what did I say? I just asked who you did it with? Is that so bad? Hey listen.. stop crying okay? I’m not gonna tell anyone… I promise… It’ll be our secret. I swear…” She looked me up and down and then slowly nodded her head.

“We gotta back in now. You’d better not tell anyone. I got enough problems without you telling anyone.” I figured it must be so to get such a reaction out of her. I figured I’d wait until later to discuss the moustache with her.