People say some ridiculous stuff. I read somewhere from somebody the following phrase…

“If GW Bush caught HIV today, there would be a cure tomorrow.”

Maybe it’s me, but when somebody says something as insensitive or stupid as that or makes wide generalizations on that level, I kind of twinge. Even if it were true, I really don’t find it all that clever or insightful. Besides, HIV isn’t a butterfly and you can’t exactly set it free otherwise I would have already. This kind of liberal conspiracy logic and verbal diarrhea makes me sick to my stomach.

Sorry to be such a serious grump, but I’ve been nursing a heinous staph infection on my scalp and behind my ear. Seems the clinic doctors I see have seen a 5 to 6 fold increase in “healthy” HIV positive men who visit the clinic. They kept reassuring me that it wasn’t something I did, which I found to be very strange, yet very comforting. I was sent packing with some antibiotics and a smile and a warning to stay out of the sun.

I cried myself to sleep the past two days, feeling absolutely sorry for myself. Things seemed to be going so well for me. I sold a piece to a nice guy in Texas. My comic books from the APLA arrived. The Seattle Erotic Art Festival has my art and is loving it. Mr. B ordered another set of cards. And then WHAM-O! Huge puss-filled boils on the back of my head. It doesn’t help matters when your partner doesn’t know how to handle you when you go spiraling down like this as it’s so out of character from your normal self.

I must have overrun my karma account so the pendulum had to swing the other way.

I’ve come back from the doctor to make sure I’m getting better and not worse, as I have no way of gauging it, and I’m on the mend. I did need to get the thing behind my ear lanced and it was absolutely repulsive. I was a trooper. Fuck only knows what the back of my ear looks like but I feel tons better. I’m not a doctor, but surprisingly smart for somebody who looks the way I do and was able to make a self-diagnosis. The student nurse seemed surprised that I’d even know what words like necrosis or staphococci meant. I had to tell him that in 2nd grade, I had a college level reading and comprehension level, but this was greeted with a grin and a look in his eye like he didn’t believe me. Maybe he did, but thought I was a weird-o for knowing.

It’s times like these that really get to me. When you are so strong on a daily basis and your last line of defense from the outside world gets compromised (your physical body and mind) you really start to question everything and why we go through all that we go through. It’s that whole meaning of life thing and the “why bother” kinds of introspective comments you make to yourself when the comforter is pulled up to your chin at night.

Let’s hope tonight I can sleep without the painkillers I’ve been popping.