Anniversaries - Celebratory and Not

January 6th.  A day that will remain in, well, the calendar.

Today marks the one year anniversary of my downfall into floppy-faced, staggering madness.  On this wintry night (camera does the 1960's dream wipe) last year I met Ron to see "Pal Joey" starring Stockard Channing at Studio 54.   I knew my cold was bad, but I didn't want to be a drag so I just showed up.  It was a particularly bad production which didn't help.  By the time I got home I had a full out bad-ass cold and a major headache.  Vomiting began.  In a very biblical way, it lasted 3 days and 3 nights.  Then on the morn aft the third night, half my faced ceased to move like it had been dragged down a cubit or two by oxen.  I was stricken with the cursed palsy de Bell.  And then three days hence the world began to twirl and I was felled with the vertigo.

It has been a long slog and in one year my face is back about 98.64% and I only stagger a little.  It is a miracle, frankly because I tell you I thought it was my new way of living; it was hard to believe I would ever get better.  Whatta year!

But today also marks my friend and fellow blogger Lexa's birthday.  Happy Birthday, Lexa!  And the guy I have been dating who I have not gotten to the stage of our relationship to tell him I have a blog! (Dr. Freud, what does that mean? ) Happy Birthday, C!!  And my pal Pat's 50th was today!  He looks amazing for an old man!! A bunch of us gathered with Pat at Crispo on W. 14th Street and I have to say it is my new favorite place!  The food is great.  I had the all-pork extravaganza meal offset by polenta and some beans.  Fantastic.  I will go back. The menu selections are about everything I love in an Italian restaurant.  Happy Birthday, Pat.

Well, that wraps this eventful day.  I will never forget this date. Ever.

The Boy in the Plastic Bauble

I took a walk in the park today. Being out right now "in my condition" is difficult and odd, but pushing myself a bit I find is necessary for recovery and mental health. Pushing too much, I also discovered, is not.

I wrote before how walking in the city with headphones on somehow makes me feel invisible in that cool "I am an international bon vivant/spy wearing a cloaking device and I am all powerful because there is a cool song in my head and you can't see me" way. Walking with Bell's palsy and vertigo ALSO ads that invisibility, but NOT in a cool way. I feel removed from society, and so withdrawn that carriages might kick up mud in my face as I stand there looking out my one good eye. And dogs might lift their legs on my legs and children may wipe chocolate off their hands onto me as if I were wet grass.

I thought the roads were clear of snow, and they were, but there was some ice on the path which is kryptonite to a vertigo-infested boy. In Rainman fashion I figure out how to get past it. My brain struggles to reboot itself. When other people are on the path I cannot breeze right by them as I have in my New Yorker way in the past. I must defer and plod slowly behind as passing is too difficult. I feel I may fall off the edge of the world. Hard to explain.

Even though I am invisible, there is life out there all around and it still brings me joy though I feel I cannot touch it or taste it as I want. But I can feel the cold on my face and hear the joy in the air. There was a guy playing sax in the tundra of the park and people on a bridge and ducks on a frozen pond. Such LIFE!! I cannot believe people hide in their apartments when there is magic all around for the price of a muddy trouser hem.