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I am, once again, in my mother's new studio apartment in sonoma, after having a frenzied day of panicked phone calls to dentists and family members because of one of my capped teeth snapping nearly in half on a god damned french fry from orphan andy's at 3am the previous night. I half expected to be forced to run around looking like a methed out jack-o-lantern for the next 2 months for lack of resources as far as mobility to transport myself to the only dental office that allows me to pay as I am able to pay. surprisingly enough, once the phone tree was alerted, I received word that my estranged dad had willingly offered to drive me to and fro, and my emergency appointment had been scheduled a mere 23 hours later. it was heartening, to say the least.

and here I sit, clutching a bag of frozen edamame beans to my face in the dark, ironically (and painfully enough) not to the tooth that is broken, but to a different tooth that will require a root canal in the immediate future. toothache pain isn't comparable to any other pain I've experienced aside from when I had a nasty case of gallstones in my junior year. it's a pain that sears into your brain and halts any activity other than an insistent urge to ease the stabbing, gut wrenching horror at any cost possible. I have taken 4 advil liqui-gels and 3 aleve in the past hour and I'm only just now beginning to be able to see straight. toothaches have given me heart palpitations, deprived sleep, caused consumption of endless canisters of vicodin, and at times caused me to slam my head into a wall for lack of any options left. toothaches... ain't nothin' to fuck with.

the work I've had done in the past is mostly if not completely caused as a side effect of chemo and radiation that without a doubt saved my life. in the big picture, it's certainly a small price to pay to still be sitting here, motor skills intact, gently bombarded by the remarkable sound of thousands of crickets in the countryside on a warm summer night. but still, I can't help but be uneasy. the unsettling memories of cancer treatment that I prefer to leave in deep recesses that I only may visit unconsciously aside from inappropriate jokes at dinner parties, are presented in droves. I suppose I'm realizing that a large part of the reason that I haven't touched the organic beginnings of material for a manuscript all of these years is because I haven't been ready to truly process them. also, my relationship with jon was damaging in ways I was blind to during the throes, in that I was belittled and discredited for how far I have come from the bottom by someone whose respect I thought I had. I've never been in a situation where someone I trusted took merciless potshots at my jugular, and have never given so much of myself to receive nothing in return but callousness. (if you hadn't heard... I'm "weak".) I've got a month left sharing the house with him and my uncertainty and fully justified distrust appears to be a surefire one way fast track to bat-shit crazy, but I'm going to hang in there. I wonder what our future dynamic may be, if he wants one, if I want one. is it possible to remain friends after being smoked out of your beloved dream apartment like a jilted gopher? is it possible, after everything that has happened, and whatever the month of july holds? inconsequential, I guess... lovers come and go, but in my experience, it's 30/70. no man, no cry.

in more cheerful news, I'm in the process of securing myself an internship with wholphin dvd, a division of mcsweeney's publishing house. this is a-maz-ing. more news to come on this as it develops!