Robert Manners

Doublefucked

Allergies and depression! Does life get any better? I can't breathe, the pressure in my sinuses is so intense that it feels like my teeth are being pushed out of my jaw, I am mired in an incredible lethargy (the usual doldrums of depression intensified by exhaustion from my three-day manic episode), and I just want to crawl in a hole and die. Wheeee!



Actually, it's not as bad today as it was earlier in the week. Wednesday, when I finished my six hours of suffering at work, I was so groggy I barely managed to drive home, and once there I pretty much passed out for three and a half hours, totally missing my GSR meeting. When I did wake up, I was so disoriented that I thought it was Sunday morning: but I could not figure out why my nephew was awake at 8:30 on a Sunday morning, nor yet why he was telling me that dinner was ready. How could dinner be ready on Sunday morning? And why am I already dressed? It just didn't make any sense.



Anyway, when I finally realized that it was the allergies that were making me so groggy, and not just lack of sleep or a new downswing in my depression, I took recourse into my stash of Sudafed and am now feeling much better. I am light-headed and rather stupid-feeling, a little bit sleepy, and still short of breath, but I know what time it is and where I'm supposed to be, I'm not suffocating or dizzy or on the verge of passing out. And that's an improvement.



So yesterday was the ninth anniversary of my sobriety. Caroline took me out to dinner last night and gave me a really gorgeous set of jewelry she made, a six-foot lariat necklace and matching four-inch earrings of peacock pearls and faceted opalite; my friend Tom sent me a congratulatory email; but other than that, I haven't really celebrated the date.



Nine years seems like a long time, though. Long enough to actually forget what martinis taste like. And in a few weeks, it will be the eighth anniversary of my celibacy... if nine years of sobriety seems like a long time, you can imagine what eight years of celibacy feels like: long enough to actually forget what cock tastes like.



Such language I'm using today! I'm going to blame it on the Sudafed. I don't really have anything else to say today, and if I did it would probably just be to bitch about celibacy and use more filthy words, so I guess I'll just sign off. Have a lovely weekend!