It’s not HIV!

ai compliation of "theresa magario" images found online

Into June, into insomnia. 

Along with a host of other symptoms that indicate a bacterial infection, I am doing juuust “splendidly.”

I have been a year and a half of my life under trash clouds threatening refuse deluges knowing- more or less- that it’s because of bacterial infection. As I told one of my brothers recently in a chat, knowing is not half the battle, in this case. 

This brother has also dealt with a testy bacterial infection. His version happened to be tick-borne Lyme. Coincidentally, he’s anxious about recent reinfection and is waiting on test results himself.  

Go Team Antibiotic! 

Let’s say, just staying upright and communicating coherently is more like half the battle here for me.

I might seem sharp enough, but I’m struggling through like I’ve had half a tequila bottle. Chewing the glass and all.  

So I fasted and trucked myself off to have seven vials of blood drawn- by seven dwarves and sent to seven underground labs… no wait. no. That fairytale doesn’t exist.

The blood samples are being tested and cultured in labs as I type. 

The only test that came back quick was for HIV. I would still be on the floor in shock if that came back positive for the sheer HOW of it all. I had the test done to humor the infectologist. I understand that she just wants to rule out all that she can. And she doesn’t know my lifestyle choices after all.  Lifestyle choices. I feel like I am too economically challenged to have (m)any of those. 

No HIV is like the only positive health news I have yet. Well, no. I can say that my depression has lightened up even with the sleep disruptions and the perpetual brain-fog, I am not so deep under these days. 

Previous Brucellosis tests came back negative, but those were rapid tests. Based on how I have been feeling, that can’t be accurate. Yet it might be and I am just over reacting to antibodies. Or however that works.. How ever the body doesn’t work… 

With everything so inconclusive, the good doctora finally got me the request for a blood culture to be done. That’s where they let my blood sit on a shelf and see if it grows any Brucella. (If this is all inaccurate, I’m taking artistic license with my description. Don’t come at me.)  It’s an like extra special request because labs seem to throw things out as soon as possible. Or so I have read from other people who try to get this test done and their samples are thrown out too soon delaying their chance at being properly diagnosed. (News like this kills me to hear.)

I am also being tested for Bartonella and some type of fungus-

Because I may have been reinfected with something else… Because the Universe loves me soo, so much. And is only conspiring to do me every kind of good!💩

My brother must be a kinder soul than I. He told me he wouldn’t wish these things on anyone. 

Well, I am in a different place than
my brother. I would wish this on people. I want to SHARE the things that keep me small and slow and so easy for people to step on/pass over. 

These tiny little infections really take you down so many pegs. And I know a few precious creatures out there who could use the take down. I know so many others who need to be shielded from any more such devastations….  

I have such, such fodder for curse material now. Don’t cross me. 

If you would like a creative curse written up, lemme know, huh? 


Hi there, I’m lost

Today is my 40th birthday. 

I am not a very happy person. 

I woke up in a modern (crap) hotel room in New Jersey instead of some ancient palazzo in Venice Italy. I was supposed to be in Venice. Venice was promised to me twice now and each time it’s magically removed from the equation. This last time Hugo suddenly got a show at Mana Contemporary so all the plans changed. Once again. And there was nothing I could do about any of it.

I’ve been away from Mexico for over a week now, but I am still in a kind of cocoon. I haven’t reached out to anyone or made any big plans.  Being sick strips you of your ability to make plans.

The biggest thing I did was buy tickets to see a Lingua Ignota concert in Manhattan on May 8th; a birthday present- to myself. It was a risk, but it was one I was willing to make. To see the best thing that has ever come out of Del f*ing Mar perform live has been the brightest part of my trip so far. 

While Hugo paints walls and advances his career, it seems like I’ve mostly been in this hotel room fighting off a UTI (with herbs and teas, without antibiotics so far).  I’ve been dealing it for a month or even more. I think. And I keep feeling symptoms similar brucellosis, so that’s really screwing me over. 

And I’ve been being incredibly weird about going outside too much because not enough people are wearing masks any more. Even on the metro. 

And I have been weird about spending money. I don’t want to spend too much so I skip out on the public transportation, but then I go to the deli-market downstairs and blow way too much cash on food stuffs anyway. So much for not over-pending.

I have been a wreck for a long time. I’ve been a worrisome wreck for over a year and counting now. 

Need visible proof? I’m covered in adult acne. At which I scrape and claw at like any perfectly mentally sound person would. So it looks even more horrific. I have a skin picking habit after all. My lips have suffered this since I was in kindergarten. These painful and spots are the evidence of my inner state. 

I will wear long sleeves. I won’t wear that thong around the house. I will wear my mask constantly in public to cover this mess on my face. 

Hey, if I can keep on wearing a mask maybe I will just let all my chin hairs grown in and stop destroying my face trying to tweeze. 

I have to spend a lot more money on products and services to mend my wounds. The external and internal ones. Spend. Spend. Spend. 

I am doing my best to stay in some kind of physical shape. But when my joints swell up and I get headaches out of no where and there is shooting pain in random parts of my body, and I have no idea what is best to fuel my body with, I start questioning my entire existence. 

I am trying to put on pleasant faces and not be too mean, but I hurt. I am so jaded. 

And I am so lost. So left behind.

I never made plans that involved living this long.

I don’t know what all that cancer was for. 

I don’t know what these trucking bacterial infections are for.

I don’t know what I am anymore. Do I even exist as a me? Am I just a lump of warring bacteria now? 

What was the point of becoming a performer? I cannot perform now. I have no confidence in my body or my mind.

What was the point on having a uterus?

What abilities did I ever have? 

I cannot draw. I cannot paint. 

My writing hasn’t gotten me anywhere.

I have no voice.

No, I do not exist.

I am not a real person. 

The US government confirmed I am not a person when it never gave me any money during the pandemic. 

Hugo insists there are good things coming. For him. They are coming for him. I am just sort of here. Fading. Like any world weary elf that cannot cross the sea. Out of place. And out of time.

Certainly, not your problem. 

This evening I will dress in a tragic goth outfit and find the green fairy. Because I can do that in this part of the world. And it might just be.. a little.. you know… fun.   

Dread, the other weighted blanket

Looking at the rest of the year now and everything is tinged with dread-

Dread, the other weighted blanket! 

I am not looking forward to anything any more this year.

I am not excited about events coming up in my life. 

I am not happy about any of the trips I will be taking. 

I am not being creative. 

 There is no creativity here. 

 There is no talent here. 

 There is nothing here.

I am not thrilled about turning forty. 

What have I lived this long for? 

My anxiety/depression is getting worse.

My PMDD is getting worse. 

I want to be dead. 

Death will come soon enough.

A little more on the topic of dread; manly, geeky Hollywood style

I’ve tried so hard. I don’t know why I am trying any more. 

Please tell me how I have made a positive impact in your life because I’m pretty sure I’m a ghost. I don’t think I have had any major impact on anything. Remind me that I am more than just some matter sort of of taking up some space maybe. Remind me that I too matter.