Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Yesterday I felt bad. Really bad and really sick. I think that everything had managed to get on top of me and I worked myself into a tizzy.
I barely slept Sunday evening/Monday morning. I woke with a headache. I took pills and went to work. The headache came back. I took more pills. I snapped at everybody. Lorraine ignored me because I was just being Bad Pynchon. In the afternoon I was sick in the toilet. I craved and ate junk food (3 packets of crisps and 3 bars of chocolates) and was sick again. I refused to go home. The headache came back and I found that couldn't stand bright lights. Migraine? Maybe. Home time and Lorraine managed to wrangle a lift home for us, thank God. I don't think I could have stood the journey on the bus.
As soon as I arrived home I took more pills and went to bed. Two hours later, after the sleep of the dead, Lorraine asked me if I wanted to eat something. I did. I felt a lot better. I chilled in front of the TV and went upstairs when Lorraine went to bed. (A bit later than normal, for her, as she was visiting a customer site today and was going to be travelling from home.)
And then things got a lot better.
Lorraine was in bed. I stood in the doorway. I said, "I don't suppose you fancy any sex, do you?"
"Not really, John", she said.
"How about just assisting with some wanking?"
She thought about that for a couple of seconds.
"OK, but it'll have to be in your room".
Good enough for me.
We retired to my room. She took off her red dressing gown. She looked amazing. I did the deed and she assisted,. She let me touch her chests, after I had promised not to grab, and it was wonderful and rude and glorious.
(Too blunt? Couldn't give a bollocks.)
Afterwards I said to her, "I just want us to be like we used to be", and she said nothing, but she did kiss me on the cheek and told me that she loved me.
I'd call that a result. Yes? Yes, that is a result. All I have every really wanted is the hope that things are going to get better, and now they just might be get better. Talking about things is the thing that we need to crack now.
Tomorrow evening I will be with Amy Winehouse at the Birmingham Carling Academy. Well, strictly speaking I'll be in the audience, but you never know. Ha! Ha!
Back on Thursday.
I barely slept Sunday evening/Monday morning. I woke with a headache. I took pills and went to work. The headache came back. I took more pills. I snapped at everybody. Lorraine ignored me because I was just being Bad Pynchon. In the afternoon I was sick in the toilet. I craved and ate junk food (3 packets of crisps and 3 bars of chocolates) and was sick again. I refused to go home. The headache came back and I found that couldn't stand bright lights. Migraine? Maybe. Home time and Lorraine managed to wrangle a lift home for us, thank God. I don't think I could have stood the journey on the bus.
As soon as I arrived home I took more pills and went to bed. Two hours later, after the sleep of the dead, Lorraine asked me if I wanted to eat something. I did. I felt a lot better. I chilled in front of the TV and went upstairs when Lorraine went to bed. (A bit later than normal, for her, as she was visiting a customer site today and was going to be travelling from home.)
And then things got a lot better.
Lorraine was in bed. I stood in the doorway. I said, "I don't suppose you fancy any sex, do you?"
"Not really, John", she said.
"How about just assisting with some wanking?"
She thought about that for a couple of seconds.
"OK, but it'll have to be in your room".
Good enough for me.
We retired to my room. She took off her red dressing gown. She looked amazing. I did the deed and she assisted,. She let me touch her chests, after I had promised not to grab, and it was wonderful and rude and glorious.
(Too blunt? Couldn't give a bollocks.)
Afterwards I said to her, "I just want us to be like we used to be", and she said nothing, but she did kiss me on the cheek and told me that she loved me.
I'd call that a result. Yes? Yes, that is a result. All I have every really wanted is the hope that things are going to get better, and now they just might be get better. Talking about things is the thing that we need to crack now.
Tomorrow evening I will be with Amy Winehouse at the Birmingham Carling Academy. Well, strictly speaking I'll be in the audience, but you never know. Ha! Ha!
Back on Thursday.
Labels: Illness, Lorraine, Sex
# posted by Pynchon @ 7:46 pm 
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Must say, I did feel pleased with myself. Disingenous (is that a word) perhaps?
hen: Certainly bollocks...
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hen: Certainly bollocks...
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