After being in freefall since early November, I actually gain two pounds in the last week. But only because the doctor told me not to run or lift weights. Easy bicycle rides are okay - of which I get in four for the week. (Including two night rides at deserted, local business parks.) But during the Saturday appointment with the doctor I let him know that I am going to run on Saturday night and lift on Sunday or Monday. He says that it is okay to start again and we'll see what happens.
The night sweats are back. I wake up in the middle of the night, turn the soaked pillow over, and go back to sleep. And repeat a time or two. And usually wake up in the morning in a wet t-shirt.
Friday night Joe and Brandon and I meet up at the Frat House to listen to music. Brandon is wearing his girlfriend's pants that look like they were made from the same material as a wedding dress is made of. They actually look good on him. There are very few people and we are leaving by 12:30am.
Saturday sees a good bicycle ride, the aforementioned doctor's appointment, and then a trip looking at storefront rentals for the gallery. I've been roped into this to get the lease rates, start-up costs, utility costs, lighting arrangements, showings, artist's arrangements, and, of course, website details for an art gallery that a friend wants to open. We stop in at a new gallery in Long Beach that features Peruvian art. And I get involved in a political discussion with the owner about the past 20 years of political turmoil in Peru. He invites me to the next grand showing in March where a highly political Mexican-American artist's work will be featured. It's already electronically on my calendar.
Saturday night I'm in a club in West Hollywood. Why? I don't know. But it's a good change of pace. I run into Person P (Viet, IT, school, volunteer) and we have a brief conversation. When I ask him how school is going, he puts an imaginary gun to his head and pulls the trigger. After I make sure that he is kidding I start laughing. Person N, who is new, makes me an offer that I can easily refuse. But only after I realize that we have nothing to talk about and nothing in common. I consider going to spanish at this point, but I realize that would be difficult because I need to be able to hear everything in order to converse in spanish - and the music is too loud for that.
So I'm standing in the club, watching a fractal-produced video, listening to the techno music, and staying in my own little zone. And somebody breaks into my thoughts with "You're Ray, aren't you?"
"Yes. I'm Ray."
"I recognize you from your website picture. My name is Allen." There's some intermediate conversation here, but it continues with Alan saying that he's just finished a degree in atmospheric sciences at UCLA and would like to talk with me. Just to prove that both of us mix in with the crowd, the conversation turns to chemicals. For the rest of the crowd this means Ecstasy and crystal discussions. For us it means talking about the chemical conditions needed for the spontaneous appearance of life - the proverbial primordial soup discussion. Finally he makes his way back to his friends and, unfortunately, we don't get a chance to finish/expand the discussion.
I leave a bit early and am in bed by 2am.
Sunday sees a good bicycle ride with the 18 year old neighbor who usually beats me up bad. But he's just getting in mileage today and he leaves me in a reasonable state of repair after the ride. At least I'm able to clean up and repair the two laptops for the art gallery work. (How DID I get myself into this one?)