Languishing in My Unfortunate Illness Feels Really Good Right Now

I am lying here on the bed like a rock, which is exactly how my body feels. Exactly. I'm watching Silverado, which is one of my favorite movies, the kind I watch periodically. It has to be Kevin Coster's best movie after Bodyguard (that's a joke). His character is a cute little tightly-wound bundle of adolescence, and I love it when he is swinging on the jail bars, or saying in his innocent but cocky way, "All I did was kiss a girl!". Perfect. That movie was enough to redeem him for all time (and I don't think Waterworld was all that bad). Some actors have one movie that is so good it is enough. Take Dennis Quaid. Breaking Away was his perfect vehicle and it doesn't really matter, from my perspective, if he makes a hundred shitty movies. I will still love him for that wonderful little gem. Patrick Swayze has Dirty Dancing and even though everything else he has done is mediocre I like him for that.

Speaking of Kevin Costner, I was leaning over in the grocery aisle earlier today scrutinizing the wine choices when a male voice said "excuse me". Startled, I jerked up to see Kevin Costner smiling at me. Only more handsome. Wider lips. Wearing a suit, which doesn't usually move me, but this guy was really cute in a suit. And he wasn't the typical "suit", who would have been irritated that someone was blocking their busy life. I was (I'm sure visibly) flustered, which happens to me only in a blue moon. It made me happy.

A couple of nights ago I was standing on Broadway at 1am smiling up at a big beautiful yellow moon over Manhattan. All of the smokers standing on the sidewalk looked up too, and someone said "it looks overinflated!". A moment to remember. And then AJ and I headed down the street to a diner where she had her second cheeseburger in as many days. We took a taxi home, admiring Saint John the Divine as we passed slowly in the night. At home in the steamy apartment we watched Blue Crush and imagined the ocean waves cooling us. We also drank Bud Light in bottles, which is AJ's favorite, until 4am. Too much Bud Light.

Too much everything, which may be why my body couldn't fight off this supposed virus, at least that's what the doctor calls it. An arthralgia virus. She thinks I probably got dehydrated in NYC, too, which added to the problem. She asked what I ate, and I told her I ate about three million mussels one night, among other delightful treats. She asked if I had pineapple with it. Is this person really a professional? They took multiple vials of blood and are testing for various plagues, like mono. I didn't tell her that I could barely walk upon waking but later, as soon as I could take a few steps, we were off. Let's walk across the Brooklyn Bridge! Let's go to Coney Island! Let's walk the length of Central Park again. Let's buy more beer. We simply have to buy that extra long bag of Twizzlers at 4am in Duane Reade. Ready to carry another load of groceries up the steps? Fuck! We have got to remember to buy another deadbolt!

We got sidetracked and missed the Brooklyn Bridge and Coney Island, but will save those treks for another time. Enough already! So in a way it is a relief to be home, even though the stress from home is probably what made me sick in the first place. I'm up in my little room watching movies, drinking wine, missing my blogosphere friends, wondering when I will feel good enough to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Now as for Johnny Depp... everything he does is gold. He's just too bizarre not to love.