Poppy Z. Brite's Blog, page 91

Golden Girl

The most popular girl in my high school was beautiful, smart, and had a huge trendy wardrobe (which at the time meant as many Fair Isle sweaters and pairs of boat shoes as you could afford). To top it all off, though she hung out with some of the meanest bitches I've ever encountered or hope to, she was genuinely nice, so you couldn't really hate her for being the golden girl.

For some reason she popped into my mind the other night, and has stayed there. I finally gave in to the urge to Google...

Addendum

The Antibiotics Fairy came on Saturday morning, bless her heart. I'm on my second day of treatments and feeling slightly less infected already. Some good points were made in the comments on my post about the Mid-City health clinic. For the record, I do understand the good intentions behind the consent form, and I do know that a good many patients at such a clinic are likely to be chronic fuckups who need reminding that they do have obligations as patients. I just don't think treating them as ...

Clinical Blues

So I'm coming to the conclusion that this bout of pneumonia has now turned into a sinus infection. Which, since I don't have a GP, leaves me to decide whether I want to brave one of those "urgent care facilities" (which I've not had good experiences with in the past, though admittedly it was the extreme past). While I can't really afford a doctor's visit right now, I do have the means to pay for one ... which in turn leaves me thinking about this story about the new New Orleans Faith-Health A...

Mary

Dear mscancerchick ,

I just heard that you died on Thursday. A lot of people loved you, and I'm sorry that you are no longer in their immediate worlds. I'm also sorry for the things you missed and will miss, because you always seemed to relish every taste and moment like few other people I've known.

As for me, here on the sidelines in your most beloved city, I'm left -- as I suppose I'll be increasingly left the older I get -- with the knowledge that we could have been closer friends if I'd put ...

Still Flying

I haven't been ignoring all your kind comments, tweets, and e-mails -- well, no more than usual, since you already know I'm not very good at keeping up with these things. I just had no choice, after the Saints' victory parade last Tuesday, but to fully succumb to this pneumonia and try to get done with it. And I'm trying. I don't feel very good, but DAMN AM I HAPPY. Haven't seen any parades since The Big One, but, you know, Carnival almost feels like an afterthought this year. I'd like to see...

OMFG

Inspiration

I wondered why my husband wasn't in bed at 5:00 this morning, but after reading this, I can hardly complain.

The Promised Land

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The fetish is immured in the frozen waters of Lake Pontchartrain-in-my-freezer; the chicken for the jambalaya is transubstantiated into Colt meat; the first beads of the season have been caught (appropriately, from the Pontchartrain parade); the king cakes are purchased, one black & gold, one purple, green, & gold; the house is reasonably clean; the unwashed lucky Shockey jersey is waiting in the dresser drawer; the guest bed is ready for a certain founding member of the Who Dat Mafia; the da...

Culinary Transubstantiation

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By the time this former chicken breast is ready to go into my game day jambalaya, it will be Colt meat!

Also: Did I tell you I can haz pneumonia? Well, I can haz pneumonia. And duz. But steadfastly refuse to die until after the victory parade on Tuesday, which I will go to, even if marquisdd has to superglue me into his antique wheelchair like Freddy Lounds.

NSFW

The Super Bowl fetish that started with the blue My Little Pony from Indiana is coming together nicely.