Gay marriage is now legal in New York. And they lit up the Empire State Building in rainbow colors to celebrate. Hooray! They’ve also made it so you don’t have to be a New York resident to get married there, which is yet another huge step. Way to go, New York. (My home state, by the way.) Here’s to hoping this clears the way for other states to follow suit.

In sadder news, Peter Falk died. I grew up loving him in “Columbo,” of course, but he was also great in “The In-Laws” and one of my favorite flicks, “The Princess Bride.” RIP, Peter.

From “The Princess Bride:”

The Grandson: A book?
Grandpa: That’s right. When I was your age, television was called books. And this is a special book. It was the book my father used to read to me when I was sick, and I used to read it to your father. And today I’m gonna read it to you.
The Grandson: Has it got any sports in it?
Grandpa: Are you kidding? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles…
The Grandson: Doesn’t sound too bad. I’ll try to stay awake.
Grandpa: Oh, well, thank you very much, very nice of you. Your vote of confidence is overwhelming.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

This is Movember, where I grow a moustache for prostate health. Prostate cancer is the #1 cancer affecting men. You can donate or just watch me grow a cheesy moustache all month. (Proceeds go to the Prostate Cancer Foundation and Livestrong.) To date, I’ve helped raise $60. If you’ve got a dollar or two to spare, please throw it into the hat.

I’m also doing a 30-day meme, the whole of which can be found here.

Today’s photo of the ’stache:

Day 24 – A letter to your parents

Dear Parents,

You’ve been asking what I want for Christmas, so here you go. Please tell Santa that I want a Kindle with 3G for Christmas. Also, a Blu-Ray player with built-in wifi. And an Apple MacBook Pro. Maybe an iPhone 4. The Beatles Mono box set (thanks to Dave for pointing out the need). I know, my tastes are more expensive these days.

On the cheap, though, since I lost weight, I could use some new jeans. The Price is Right for Wii, or maybe the new Donkey Kong. And the Back to the Future trilogy on Blu-Ray. An Amazon gift card could help me pick out books and music I want…or just about anything. Or an iTunes card would work, too. ThinkGeek has a great holiday section this year. In fact, right now, they’re offering a free t-shirt with any $25 purchase. Maybe some scratch-off lottery tickets. See? I’m easy. Kinda.

I hope this makes for an easier experience for Santa. I still miss the original Sears Wishbook, but this will have to do.

Love,

Karl

PS: If Santa wants to get me a girlfriend instead, that’d rock.

PPS: I don’t really like brussels sprouts. I keep feeding them to my imaginary dog.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

Two days left.

Two days for me to get my fill of Twitter and Facebook and blogs.

Two days to wonder how good the cell signal is there.

Two days to wonder if I’ll be able to blog. I’m definitely bringing my journal and notebooks to write in. It’ll be blogging from my phone, if at all, since I’m told there’s no wifi and no Internet.

Two days to get my laundry done and choose 5 sets of clothing that’ll last me a month. Two days to figure out what shirts I’ll take with me.

Two days to squeeze in phone calls.

Two days to figure out what books I want to bring with me. Hell, two days to drop off my library book because I can’t renew it beyond my stay in the inpatient program.

Two days to fill my iPod with music to last me a month.

Two days to enjoy my own bed. Do I bring my own pillow?

Two days to stay up as late as I want. And attempt to sleep in as late as I want (9:30 AM is usually as far as I can get).

Two days of having my schedule be whatever the fuck I want it to be. Eat when I want, test my blood sugar when I want, give myself insulin when I want. Something tells me my schedule will be dictated much differently…in two days.

Two days to wonder if I get a roommate while I’m there. I’m assuming I will, because I can’t believe I’ll be lucky enough not to.

Two days to clear off as many shows from my DVR as possible.

Two days to be thankful that “Lost” finished before this wild psychological experiment. Maybe this is my “sideways timeline.”

Two days until I have to watch what everyone else is watching (Lord, let it not be “Jersey Shore”).

Two days to gather toiletries.

Two days to get a haircut that’ll last me through a month. Considering a crew cut. It’s only gonna get hotter in Florida for the next several months. And a crew cut seems appropriate for scenes that may match “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.”

Two days to let the anxiety build and fester.

Two days to keep telling myself this is voluntary and I can leave whenever I want. Two days to keep telling myself this may be the only shot I get at an inpatient program, so leaving prematurely would be asinine.

Two days to wonder why asinine only contains one “s.”

Two days to freak the fuck out.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

Today is January 30. Already. Shit, where the hell has this month gone? How did we already get 1/12 of the way through 2010?

Tomorrow is the last day of the month, which means it’s the last day for this month’s Resolution. Not that I’m tossing my new habit out the window, mind you. I’m not. And that was the point for the Year of Resolutions – starting 12 new HEALTHY habits.

Thursday night, I had ANOTHER low blood-sugar episode. I’m OK. (I say that because I hate when someone throws out some scary news and then takes 10 minutes to walk you through the whole story before saying, “I’m OK.” No, people. When you say something like, “I got in a car accident,” you follow it up IMMEDIATELY with “Don’t worry, I’m OK.” THEN fill in the rest of the story. Idiots.)

My best bud was here with me when it happened. I felt I was going low, recognized it, said aloud, “I need to eat something NOW. I’m low,” and came inside to do just that. The details aren’t important, really. Suffice it to say that I found myself on the floor again, trying hard not to vomit or pass out, but orange juice did the trick. And my friend was very calming and reassuring the whole time.

She got to help me check my sugar, and that’s a good thing. She’d never had to do that before. Hell, for most of the time I’ve known her, I haven’t been very compliant with my meds. She’s never seen me low before this year, mostly because I haven’t BEEN low…or even close.

Here’s what I’m supposed to do when I’m feeling low: check my blood sugar, then remedy the situation. It’s important to know what your sugar is when you feel low. Again, normal glucose readings are between 80 and 120. I know from recent experience that at 71, I’m still not fading out. So I was probably at 60 or lower.

Here’s the problem with doing what I’m supposed to do when I’m feeling low: I don’t give a fuck what my sugar is…I just want to STOP THAT LOW FEELING, AND NOW. It’s awful, I don’t want to feel nauseous and flushed and sweaty and dizzy and terrified. I just want it to stop and, y’know, not smash my face into the tile floor. I probably have a cracked skull from the first incident a couple weeks back. There’s this weird…shifting… when I push on my forehead now.

I’ve been checking my sugar 4 times a day, like I’m supposed to. And I’ve been taking my meds, especially now that they’ve been adjusted. Because I nearly passed out again (that’s three incredibly bad episodes for me in the last couple of weeks), I reported it to my doctor yesterday. And we’ve adjusted the plan again.

“You’re scaring me,” she said when she called me.

“I’m scaring me, too.” And I am.

But here’s what’s new…I’m not pulling an Ostrich. I’m pushing FORWARD. I’m being proactive, I’m receptive to changes, I’m asking for help, I’m being compliant, I’m checking sugars, recording the numbers, reporting out to those that need to know. All of that is ALIEN territory for me. And new stuff? Is very scary to me. Change…brrr, gives me chills.

But I’m doing it, anyway.

And it’s paying off.

I know now that my nighttime snacks are critical. No matter how fine I feel, a nighttime snack HAS to happen…and sooner rather than later. This was what caused me to fall out Thursday night. Stupid. Again with the stupid. But these things are not happening for naught. I’m LEARNING.

What we’re doing now to fine tune my diabetes control is adding a 3:00 AM sugar check. Yes, even if it requires me setting my alarm. The doc wants to know what’s happening while I’m (supposed to be) in bed. Why?

This is the 2nd incident to happen around 1:30am. That means my sugars are crashing at night (if I don’t have a snack). And that’s kind of weird.

My morning and noon sugars yesterday were high…above 250. But my pre-dinner reading was 176. Two hours after dinner, my sugar was 157. That’s still high, but it’s relatively close to normal for a post-meal reading. At least for me.

The doc’s theory is that my sugars are dropping at  night. My body’s defenses then are inflating my sugars so that I don’t go into a diabetic coma. Thus, high readings in the morning.

MY theory is that I don’t take insulin at night. Plus, Thursday night (after the incident) I had orange juice, and a PBJ, and Doritos, and beer. And THAT’S why those high morning readings happened. Who’s right? I don’t know. We’ll see. Pretty sure it’s me, though. I feel like Einstein’s smarter brother right now.

My first 3:00 AM reading this morning showed my sugar at 257. This morning before breakfast, it was 254. These are bad readings, I know. But again, I’d far rather be high than low any day of the week. And we’re still working it, still grasping to get this shit in control.

It’s a work in progress. I knew going into this Resolution that my diabetes wouldn’t be under control by January 31. That was not the point. The POINT was for me to be compliant in my health care, to take a proactive role, to stop being an Ostrich.

And that’s actually happening.

The doc wants to drop another diabetes med. The brand new med that she just prescribed to me at our recent appointment. The med that has still not arrived in the mail.

“Stop taking the glipizide,” she said.

“I’m not taking it,” I said. “I haven’t gotten it yet.”

“Good. When it comes in the mail, don’t take it.”

Far be it from me to bitch about having one less pill to take.

We have a follow-up appointment in a couple of weeks. I will continue emailing the doctor my glucose readings. I will continue calling her to report anything significant. We will continue to tweak my treatment plan. We WILL get this under control.

I’m in a very unique position right now, having this manic phase (and recognizing it while I’m in the midst of it). I am optimistic, and hopeful, and open to new stuff. That’s not going to last, I know it. I’m dreading the inevitable crash, which will come…and probably very soon. It may already be happening.

I’ll be back to my morose, miserable, pessimistic self. It’s not an attitudinal thing, folks, it’s biochemistry. The euphoria associated with mania is brain chemistry gone amok. It’s not the norm.

So I’m taking advantage of the good attitude while I’ve got it, false or not. And don’t go jumping on me for using the word “false” there. It’s a genuine good attitude, yes, but again…it’s a result of my mania. It’s chemical. Yes, it’s false. In a manner of speaking.

That doesn’t mean I’m not going to use it to my advantage. I am, totally. I’m going to start keeping a paper journal again, to take copious notes on how I’m feeling…physically, mentally. I want to be able to tell the doctors everything, so we can closely monitor what changes I’m experiencing, so we can continue fine-tuning my treatment plan, so that I ultimately feel BETTER.

And when I come down from Mania Mountain, and Poser Pollyanna is gone, and I’m the fucking misanthropic Karl again, I want to be able to look at my blog (and the journal) and attempt to regain the positive attitude I have at this moment. I want to be able to see the cause-and-effect thing. I want to read how my proactive stance is actually making a DIFFERENCE.

I feel very much like Charlie in Flowers for Algernon. In the beginning of the story, Charlie is a janitor with a 68 IQ. He receives experimental surgery that kickstarts his brain and ultimately becomes one of the smartest people on the planet.

The book spends a great deal of time showing Charlie’s emotional changes, as well as his increase in smarts. Suddenly, world leaders are contacting him for help with their problems. Charlie is curing diseases. He’s solving impossibly complex equations. He’s fixing things that nobody has been able to fix before. He’s fallen in love with the woman that began as his tutor, but becomes his lover when she sees the amazing new person Charlie has become. Hell, he’s far SMARTER than the woman now.

But here’s the rub: his new-found genius status is temporary. He slowly starts moving back to good ol’ Charlie with the 68 IQ.

And that’s how I feel when I come down off my mania. I’m super smart right now. My brain is operating far above and beyond its usual state. I actually feel like I have the IQ I supposedly have…y’know, if you even buy into Intelligence Quotients.

I’m going to slip back to Stupid Karl very soon. And like Charlie, who had a good long taste of a super-charged mind, it’s almost better to have never experienced my brain the way it is now. Because knowing things can be so good is godawful when I’m beginning the maddening decline to the way I was before. It’s the cruelest bait-and-switch I know of. Contemplating this inevitability brings me to tears.

I feel this crazy need to blurt out everything in my head right now, to get it all onto paper before I lose it. I’m making abstract connections that I can’t normally make. My intuition is so advanced and well-honed right now that I feel almost psychic. I’m coming up with brilliant ideas. I’m creative as fuck.

And it’s all going to slip away.

It’s far easier to survive day-to-day when you’re used to being miserable. The expectations are low, so it’s hard to be disappointed. Knowing that there’s another way to see life – EXPERIENCING that other way – is bittersweet. It feels wonderful now (despite all of the BAD shit associated with mania).

But like most things in life, it’s not going to last.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

When I decided to do the Year of Resolutions thing, I had no idea what was coming my way. Clearly. Had I, I never would have ventured forth with the project, no matter how brilliant an idea it was for me.

I just figured that I’m better with bite-sized chunks, rather than full-blown permanent resolutions. One resolution, 30 days, no biggie. And at the end of each month, to quantitatively know if it’s been a success or not – or even a relative success (because I’m far from perfect) – is pretty cool.

But almost three weeks in and I’m going slightly mad. I’m sleep-deprived, stressed to the gills, not to mention stir-crazy. It’s only been a week, folks. Mom broke her kneecap a week ago Monday and I’m already melting down. There’s a long road ahead still.

Yes, to be fair to myself (something I’m not very often), I have other birds and kettles of fish in the bush (or whatever). It’s not just caretaking Mom that’s stressing me out. Nevertheless, if I don’t find a rhythm soon and pace myself, I’m seriously going to be fucked. I mean, more fucked than I was twice the past week with my diabetes episodes.

I have snapped at some of my favorite people on Earth recently. I’ve said things I regret. I’ve made a record number of poor decisions and judgment calls the last week. I’ve even pulled passive-aggressive bullshit that would infuriate me from anyone else. I’m not slamming myself  here (mostly), I’m just stating facts. I’m not happy with myself since Mom’s accident. My emotions seem like exposed nerve endings, raw to the touch. I’ve come perilously close to bawling my eyes out. Sunday night, in fact, I had what can only be described as the “dry heaves” equivalent of crying.

Couldn’t make them come.

Here’s how messed in the head I am of late. Monday, I came *this* close to shutting it all down. Deleting EVERYTHING…Twitter, Facebook, my blog…all of it. So overwhelmed by my own assininity that I just figured it’d be easier to say “Fuck it all!” and never worry about social media again.

Fortunately, a leveler head was in mine *somewhere* and I realized that would be stupid. First off, out of all my years blogging, I’ve only seen one person successfully (meaning, permanently) shut down their blog. Everyone else is pretty much full of shit. They come crawling back, usually within a week. “Oops, my goof. I’m back. Please disregard that whole 2,000-word rant about how I’m disappearing forever and deleting everything FOREVER. I couldn’t stay away.”

And that’s the thing. I KNOW I can’t stay away for long. So I followed the advice I usually reserve for my idiot friends who are overwhelmed and ready to shoot their online identities in the face at point-blank range.

That advice? Don’t post. Don’t tweet. Don’t do any of it. For now. Come back when you’re ready. Anything more drastic than that, and you’re gonna regret it.

I have enough regrets already, I don’t need any free refills, thanks.

On top of that, I’m actually (slowly but Shirley) finding a new blogging rhythm. I’ve blogged more this month than I have in a long time. And I think that’ s a good thing. For me, at least, and isn’t that what matters?

What I have done is create an anonymous blog that only *I* know about for the sorts of things that I can’t (or won’t) say here. Don’t ask me for the URL. I don’t care WHO you are, you’re not getting it. It’s for me, and me only.

Then there’s the YOR. I started it, I need to do my best to see it through. It’s daunting, but it’s far less daunting than telling myself at midnight as the big ball drops down in Times Square that I’ll never smoke a cigarette again. That’s the whole point behind my YOR concept. You can do almost *anything* for 30 days.

In order to really make the YOR effective for me, I need to blog about it. Not only does it help me keep a record of my progress (and setbacks) but it also keeps me accountable. My friends read this fucking thing (for some reason that often escapes me). I have a Prick Buddy, one of my favorite ladies on Earth, who swaps blood sugar readings with me via text and Tweets. That helps a lot. So much so that I’m going to try to find a way to have a Buddy for each of the 11 Resolutions to follow this year.

Here’s where I bring up the fact that I do a great ostrich impersonation. My primary method of coping throughout my life has been avoidance…pretending it’s not happening. That’s not healthy. I’ve dropped off the grid many times and I made a promise a while back to Hilly (one of many victims of my sudden and thorough disappearances) that I would NOT disappear again. And I may make a lot of mistakes, but I do try hard to stick by my promises. Not always possible, but I go by the motto: “Make very few promises, and bust your ass to keep the few you do make.”

So I’ll reiterate, if only for my own clarity and peace of mind (fragile as that may be at the moment). I won’t completely drop off the grid. That’s not to say I may not stop posting for a while, if necessary. Or that I won’t stay off Facebook and Twitter for a while at a time. But I won’t totally ignore all of my email (permanently) or phone calls. And I’ll make an effort to stay in touch with my friends to let them KNOW I’m taking a social media breather. For now, though, you’re stuck with me.

I have spent relatively little time on Twitter of late, less than usual. That’s not likely to change soon. I’m still myopic (perhaps more so than when I wrote that post). Mostly, I send out Tweets and only respond to those who address me first. I don’t ever sit in front of Tweetdeck for 45 minutes and spend time interacting, really…reading other people’s Tweets. Not feeling Twitter that way, and I don’t feel guilty about it, either. Twitter is a tool and I’ll use the tool however I want. Heh, I said “tool.” Twice. Well, three times now, actually.

My friends know how to reach me, anyway. You’ve got my number. I sure as hell hope you’re not waiting for ME to call. I’m a little swamped, in case you  haven’t noticed.

Today is January 20th. I have 11 days to figure out what February’s resolution is going to be. Open to suggestions. I have one in mind that seems very fitting to follow up this month’s, but with 12 resolutions in 12 months, I need all the help I can get.

Last night, I was given the chance to get out of the house for a while, and I took it. My TNT girls came over for Tuesday night dinner and they kept Mom company, while my best bud and I went to go see “Youth in Revolt.” It was truly what I needed, a respite from…well, everything.

Lots of laughs (till we were both crying). And as an aside, how come I can be so fucking funny OFF my blog but can’t ever seem to bring it here any more? Dunno. But we ate in the mall food court so we could mock people watch. Then we saw a really good movie.

“Youth in Revolt” has been one of my all-time favorite novels for over 15 years now. I picked it up at a Barnes & Noble and laughed out loud on page 1. Within 120 seconds, I owned it. And there were a LOT more laughs after that. Funny as shit, and very smart comedy, too. I’ve bought that book at least a dozen times over the years, only to loan it out to friends and never see it again. Usually, because THEY loan it out to THEIR friends…it’s a vicious cycle. And I don’t care because it’s THAT good.

The concessions stand guy was talking about “Revolt” last night, saying that the movie seems to have a “cult following.” I didn’t even snicker at what a cult following in Sebring might look like. I just said, “There *is* a cult following, because it’s one of the funniest books I’ve ever read.”

“Really?”

My bud agreed, because I’m the one responsible for getting HER to read it and subsequently chomping at the bit to see the film.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s like Ferris Bueller on steroids.” I was pretty proud of that summation because it’s apt and rolls off the tongue well. At any rate, I think I have 3 more converts to the books of C.D. Payne. Yes, people, there are SIX books in the Twisp series and they’re all good.

The movie? Fantastic. I’ve waited over a decade for this flick and I’m happy to say they do the first book justice. Sure, there’s a lot missing, but they did a really good job condensing it down into a 90-minute flick (not to mention modernizing a book that is nearly 20 years old). I’m impressed with screenwriter Gustin Nash, who is also responsible for the sublime “Charlie Bartlett” a couple of years ago.

The casting was superb. Michael Cera nails the part. Steve Buscemi? Ray Liotta? Fred Willard on shrooms? Rockin’.

If you haven’t yet met Nick Twisp, the 14-year-old protagonist of “Youth in Revolt,” I highly recommend you get to a bookstore or library and pick up a copy. It used to be an obscure thing to find, but with a movie out, it’s probably a lot easier to get a hold of. I snickered at “Confederacy of Dunces,” but SNORTED with “Revolt.” Many times over.

Laugh out loud expel liquid through your nose funny, people.

On top of the movie and the company, I had a really amazing texting session with a very dear one and that helped to calm me, too. Temporarily. Which I’ll take.

Yes, I know this is a long post, but seriously…can you really be surprised? You’re at MY blog, after all. Maybe it’ll help you to know that this was originally supposed to be two posts. Nah, probably not.

Gonna wrap up with the doctor updates. This morning, I went in for blood (and pee) tests. First step in correcting my medications. It occurred to me, while peeing in a little cup and trying to keep my guggenheimer from actually dipping into my own urine, that I have NO idea how WOMEN do that shit. And I don’t want to know, either. I’m just going to assume it gets done somehow, probably by magic Urine Elves or something.

I go back Friday morning for my follow-up, after my blood test results are in. We’ll make adjustments from there. For now, I’m supposed to test my sugar FOUR times a day. Ugh. Before each of my three meals (oh yeah, I’m suppose to eat three times a day), and then two hours after dinner. And I’m off long-acting insulin and one of my diabetes pills till then, too. Which is good, because I’ve already been doing that. Something about crashing twice in a week has made me pretty skittish about taking insulin before bedtime.

Odd part about that is – much as I fantasize about blinking out of existence with nary a POPping sound – I actually fear NOT waking up. I can’t say I’m happy to be alive, but I CAN say I’d rather not be dead. I suppose that’s something.

I also have the Matrix Therapist Friday afternoon, first time in over a month, I think.

AND Friday morning is Mom’s surgery for her kneecap. Lots of friends to sit with me in the waiting room, even stay while I go to my own doctor appointment. Much as I’d rather be at the hospital the whole time, I’ve got to get MY proverbial house in order so I can take care of Mom. So I’ll keep my appointments.

Yeah, another (of many) lessons I’m learning lately: ask for help and don’t hesitate to use it when offered. That’s a biggie for me. I’m not a guy who easily admits he needs a hug, let alone help.

I’m still hurting. A lot. But it’s not quite as bad today as it was early yesterday morning when I started writing this diatribe.

Thanks to all of you for your texts, Tweets, Facebook love, emails, and phone calls. I may not be the speediest to respond, but I do see it all and appreciate it.

Now I need a nap. Mom is sleeping and I should take advantage of it.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

Very excited about tonight’s show. Well, I’m always excited about my show (because my friends/guests rock) but tonight is sure to be another exceptional episode.

My guest is Schmutzie, goddess of the blogosphere, innovator, artist, and creator of sites like Five Star Friday and Grace In Small Things.

Schmutzie likes to appreciate the small pleasures in everyday life. I prefer to appreciate the small pains-in-the-ass in everyday life. Still, I think we’ll get along just fine tonight.

I had the pleasure of hanging with her and Mr. Schmutzie (aka Palinsomething) in July, and if I had the damn Star Trek transporter (when are those supposed to be invented, anyway?) I’d be zapping myself over to hers and Palinode’s place regularly. They make me laugh.

Every one of you is welcome to call in and talk with us. The phone number is 724-444-7444, Call ID 23738. You can call in just to say hi to Schmutzie, or ask her a question, or maybe even say something to me.

I highly recommend that you go to my SecondHand Radio info page, register at Talkshoe.com and download the Talkshoe client (though not required, I think it’s a superior chatroom experience).

Tell all your friends. And if you have trouble getting into the show for some reason, feel free to call in (using the phone number below) and you can listen on the phone that way. I can leave you on mute, if you prefer.

Showtime: 10PM EST, 9PM CST, 8PM Mountain, 7PM Pacific

Show Link:

http://www.talkshoe.com/tc/23738

Call-in Number: (724) 444-7444, Call ID 23738

2HRadio Info (including complete list of upcoming guests)

NO SHOW THURSDAY BECAUSE OF THANKSGIVING.

Thanksgiving is just a few days away. I really should take a page from Schmutzie’s life and try to be thankful for the stuff I have in my life. I think I’ll make a couple of lists, in fact. These are in no significant order or ranking.

Things I’m NOT Thankful For

1. Depression/Anxiety/Stress. Enough, already.
2. Diabetes. Thanks to #1, even the smallest details seem ginormous to tackle. Adding more meds, plus multiple daily blood sugar checks, plus at least two injections a day? Not helping.
3. Cancer. Enough of this shit, too. Took the life of a friend earlier this year. Infecting family members. Has plagued other friends. IS plaguing other friends.
4. Illness. My stepmother is in the hospital. My friend is struggling to overcome the stroke she had last week. I’m done with it, for real. It’s another thing contributing to #1.
5. Stalkers. Not just because of my whole recent thing, but other friends, as well. I’ll include trolls here because they’re of the same ilk. Both are ugly, vile cowards that can choke on my vomit. Oh, and I’ll eat a lot of corn soup before the vomiting.
6. No iPod connection in rental car stereos. I’ll be in a rental for the next 9 days while my car is in the shop. It’s odd because my car is a piece of shit that has bad rust on the roof and an only-slightly-better paint job elsewhere. Now I’ll have a brand new (mostly) front end, including a new paint job. And yes, there’s still The Swamp in the back floorboard.
7. Passive-Aggressiveosity. Yeah, still. I said it yesterday on Twitter, but I’ll say it again. I want to punch passive-aggressive people in the junk. These are typically the same people who have absolutely no fucking boundaries (and refuse to honor any of mine).
8. The Edge Network. Sucks. Why can’t there be wifi EVERYWHERE? For free?
9. Being broke. Yeah, I know a lot of that is my fault, since I haven’t worked in a long time. Need to get on that. It’s crimping my luxurious lifestyle. *cough* I mean, if I ever want to get that team of maids and butlers, I have to get off my ass and play the lottery. A lot.
10. Self sabotage. The negative self-talk, the ignoring of my gut/intuition, the not taking my meds…yeah, even the nail-biting. What the bloody fuck is wrong with me? See, that right there is a little self sabotage. (Can you tell I just got back from the Matrix Therapist?)

Things I AM Thankful For

1. My friends. Not a day goes by that I’m not thankful for these people in my life. Everyone I interact with on Twitter. On blogs. In person. On the phone. Email. Chat. Particularly, my “inner circle” of people, who all have the ability to make me cry or laugh out loud. You fuckers rock.
2. The Internet. I seriously think I’d die without it. It’s like…oxygen. Or porn. Without the Net, I’d be fucked as far as socializing goes. I’m enough of a hermit as it is.
3. iPhone. As jacked into the Matrix as I am, I’d be suffering from Internet withdrawals any time I left the house – if not for my beloved iPhone.
4. Family. Mostly.
5. Music. I’d probably lose what little sanity I have left if not for music. It’s such an important part of my life, so visceral, so much an emotional and spiritual necessity…I’d be hosed without it.
6. Books. Ditto #5. Books are another part of my life’s blood. I’ve relied on them my entire life to escape the utter shit of my life, to learn anything and everything I need to know, to bring my imagination to a frothy head.
7. Television/Movies. Ditto #5. I grew up a TV kid. I remain one to this day. I’m an artist, a creative, a storyteller. So yeah, I dig great storytelling…great writing, great acting. Comedy? Drama? Stupid? Deep and heavy? No matter. If it’s truly engaging, I dig it. My favorite TV show at the moment is the brilliant HBO series, “In Treatment,” but I’m also enjoying “Curb Your Enthusiasm” a great deal. But my fall-back is always going to be sci-fi and fantasy. Supernatural? Lost? Heroes? Mmm.
8. My writing. I don’t post like I’d like to here, true. Or professionally, for that matter. Those aside, I am thankful for my writing. Not only do I love writing (most of the time), but it is one of the very few things I’ll admit to being good at. It’s a critical vent in my emotional system, it’s great fun to tell an amusing anecdote – and to make people laugh. And it affords me the ability to make a living without even leaving my house. (Which I need to begin doing again, stat.) On top of all that, it’s because of my writing that I have most of the the friends I have.
9. My daughters. I can honestly say that they’ve grown into women that I’d be proud to know even if I weren’t related to them.
10. Guinness. Ah, sweet darkness, sweet medication of the self!

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

My guest tonight is the lovely goddess of jelly, Trish, who many of you may know better as Astrogirl426. Author of the blog “Notes From the Bunker,” Trish is a 2nd-time guest on SecondHand Radio.

I don’t have a recent photo of Trish because her current Twitter avatar only shows this weird shot of her all dressed in some feathery black angel outfit. Or something.

See for yourself.

I think Trish is screaming here, “Why must I be married? Why can’t I have Karl?! He is incredible!” Or she might be saying, “I’m not interesting! What am I going to say on Karl’s show tonight?” Cuz, y’know, Trish is like most of my other guests, who seem to think they’re “boring.” Whatever.

I tried explaining to her that if she was boring, I wouldn’t have her come BACK to my show. But she’s stubborn, like me, and refuses to believe it.

Trish is a renaissance woman. She writes, she photographs, she cooks, she jars her own jelly and preserves, and she dresses in odd costumes. Hoping she’ll dress as a pirate wench for her next photo shoot, but that’s another matter altogether.

I highly recommend that you go to my SecondHand Radio info page, register at Talkshoe.com and download the Talkshoe client (though not required, I think it’s a superior chatroom experience).

You’ll be there, right? And if you have trouble getting into the show for some reason, feel free to call in (using the phone number below) and you can listen on the phone that way. I can leave you on mute, if you prefer.

Showtime: 10PM EST, 9PM CST, 8PM Mountain, 7PM Pacific

Show Link:

http://www.talkshoe.com/tc/23738

Call-in Number: (724) 444-7444, Call ID 23738

2HRadio Info (including complete list of upcoming guests)

The Manuscript is Found. And Dusty.

The timing of the Universe is many times astounding. I wrote that story months ago, and it went live today. Of all days. Now.

All I know is I really appreciate the many comments and texts and DM’s, offering me your support. Particularly today.

Clearly I don’t handle such things very well.

Part of that whole “surrounded” thing I talked about the other day. I’m so sick of feeling down, feeling sorry for myself. Shit, the truth is I don’t LET myself truly feel sorry for myself. Nevertheless. The whining, the incessant navelgazing of late…ugh.

I’d like to request that the funny Karl come back, please. I like him more.

I went digging and found my autobiography manuscript today. And as I agreed, I won’t read it until I get to the Matrix Therapist next. I can only imagine that she’s gonna want me to read this shit out loud at our next session.

There are a number of traditional therapy exercises that give me the chills. One of them involves talking to an empty chair, pretending I’m talking to someone in my life (past or present) and saying what I REALLY need to say to that person…but can’t.

Another involves anger therapy, which takes on many forms. Beating up pillows, shredding paper, hitting a mattress with a baseball bat, hitting a full body-bag with a bat. I have trouble connecting with anger. A lot. For me, the “worst” method I found for anger therapy involved boxing gloves on that full body-bag. Oof. Physical body pain manisfestations, anyone?

I hate having to come up with a list of positive things about me. Hate. On the other hand, I could go all day with negative shit. That list? Not a problem.

And I am pretty sure I’ll hate having to read my half-written autobiography to the Matrix Therapist. Something tells me she’s going to try to get me to FEEL something. About myself. For myself.

Whilst digging through tons of boxes, looking for the manuscript, I found old notebooks of mine. Spiral notebooks which acted as journals, doodlepads, repositories for my book snippets. There’s something more visceral about writing in longhand, I find. There was a time that I was ALWAYS writing that autobiography. Everywhere I went. Restaurants, bars, during breaks in group therapy. I’d write page after page, then go home at the end of the day and transcribe all that shit into the computer.

And I wrote a lot of (bad) poetry, as evidenced here. (Click to biggify, and I apologize in advance. Fuck, I was an emo little bastard, just with better hair and no eyeliner.)

Also found several unfinished novel manuscripts. Shit, unfinished.

Story of my life.

Literally.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

Thanks for all the love and support the last couple of days, gang. I remain on Twitter hiatus, but am slowly climbing out of the funk.

I see the Matrix Therapist on Wednesday, thank God. The bitch better never take another vacation again. I’m OK, really. I mean, I don’t FEEL okay in many ways, but that’s nothing new to me. Depressed is normal when it comes to me. I just don’t let that side show very often, unless you’re a very close friend.

Last night I went over to Mindy’s and Sarah’s place and we watched some of the first season of “In Treatment,” a great show on HBO. Believe it or not, it really helped to listen to a bunch of people in therapy that are more fucked up than even I am. Mindy is good for my mental health.

But enough about my boring depressing bullshit.

Tonight, I begin a second weekly episode of SecondHand Radio! Nothing like that to help raise me up out of the doldrums. (That word, doldrums, always reminds me of one of my favorite childhood books, “The Phantom Tollbooth.”)

My guest is blogger and author Shauna Glenn, the genius behind the blog “Is It 5 O’Clock Yet?” I’m not all that familiar with Shauna’s blog (’cause I suck at reading blogs lately), but I’ve been told she talks a lot about her girly bits in great detail, so I know I like her already. As it turns out, I talk about girly bits in great detail, too. So it’s like Kismet or something. Just with more cootchies and tits.

I like her even though Shauna is another blogger trying to make me look bad by actually finishing a manuscript and getting it published. She’s written a novel called Heaping Spoonful. We’ll be talking about that, for sure. And maybe I’ll slip her some truth serum and pry her agent’s name out of her. I have a few novel manuscripts (and an autobiography) in various stages of non-completion. I just don’t have the wherewithal to complete them, apparently.

Come join us tonight. You’re all welcome to call in and talk to Shauna and me. There’s a chatroom available during the show, which opens 15 minutes before show time. Always pretty active.

Showtime: 10 PM EST, 9 PM CST, 7 PM Pacific

Show Link: http://www.talkshoe.com/tc/23738

Call-In Number: (724) 444-7444, Call ID 23738

iTunes Subscription Link

Full Schedule of Guests on the 2HRadio Info page

NOTE: I am fully aware that Talkshoe is problematic for some of you. I’m going to attempt to do Thursday night’s episode on Blog Talk Radio. There may be a test show before then just to see how it goes. If it goes well, I may switch back to BTR.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

So, due to the fact that I’ll be drunk in a bar Thursday night for KimBerday in Alabama, when I THOUGHT I’d be at Kim’s house, we will be having Thursday night’s show TONIGHT!

Yes, that’s tonight – MONDAY night at 10 PM EST, 7 PM Pacific. Please spread the word.

My guest is Danny Evans of Dad Gone Mad, author of the new book “Rage Against the Meshugenah.” Danny is an amazing writer and, though I had planned on finishing his book before our original show on Thursday, that’s not going to happen by tonight.

Still, he’s graciously agreed to reschedule for this evening because he rocks.

I can tell you, though, that I’m about six chapters in and Danny captures the essence of depression like no one I’ve ever read. Particularly from a male point-of-view. And yeah, I’m someone who knows depression.

I highly recommend that you register at Talkshoe.com before tonight, if you haven’t already done so. There’s a live chatroom that is quite active most show nights.

And I also recommend you downloading the Talkshoe Live client, as well. It’s what I use for every show. You don’t HAVE to, but from what I understand it’s a much more stable client than the Web interface. Plus, I like the chat interface in Talkshoe Live a lot more than the Web interface.

Showtime: 10 PM EST, 7 PM PST.

Show Link: http://www.talkshoe.com/tc/23738

Call-In Number: 724-444-7444, Call ID 23738

You’re all welcome to call in to talk to Danny and I. Sorry for the last-minute schedule change. Hope to see you there.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

Many thanks to my amazing guest bloggers over the past week during the Summer of Love. They all rock with a capital A, if you get my drift.

And there will be another guest post today, of course. But first, let’s talk radio.

Tonight on SecondHand Radio, my guest is none other than Deb Rox, aka Deb On The Rocks. She was in Chicago for BlogHer and I think I totally missed her, dammit. That’s the way BlogHer works, I guess.

Deb has a book out now, which is irritating because I’m sitting on FOUR unfinished manuscripts. Crap, all these damn bloggers with book deals. Anyway, her book is titled 5 Ways to {blank} Your Blog: Almost everything you need to know about the wild world of personal blogging and I just ordered it from Amazon yesterday. Yeah, don’t say I didn’t prep for tonight’s show. *cough*

I’m pretty positive I’m not mentioned in the book, but I’m hoping it’s still worth reading. Hell, it’s only $10, but I see on Deb’s blog that she’s pissed off at LEAST one person who she mentioned in the book. So something tells me we’ll get along juuuuust fine. Not that *I* ever piss anyone off, mind you.

Join us, won’t you? There’s a live chatroom for you to play around in, and you can also call in and talk to Deb and me! Fun, fun, fun till your daddy takes your Rabbit away.

Showtime: 10 PM Eastern, 7 PM Pacific

Show Link: http://www.talkshoe.com/tc/23738

CALL-IN NUMBER: 724-444-7444, Call ID 23738

Naturally, if you suck and can’t be there tonight, you can always find 2HRadio on iTunes.

But really? You should be there.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan