I'm jonesing for some fucking World Cup, and have to wait until Friday for my fix. Sigh. Next to the Olympics for me is the World Cup -- I love the international events, makes me glad to see the rest of the world. The US is so insular and parochial -- it's nice to see us out in the big, bad world.
So, Exene's still sick. She responded somewhat to the meds they gave her, but the symptoms haven't vanished -- still swollen glands at the neck, night sweats, sore joints, fever, loss of appetite. She's 121 lbs. right now. She's got some follow-up appointments with doctors. She's peeved. We'll see how it develops. All of the infectious disease tests they did (and they did a lot) came up negative. Not sure what to make of it all, exactly.
There's the Exene people think they know, and there's the Exene I know/knew, and there's whatever she actually is, somebody nobody but her actually knows. I know her better than anybody (including her family), but even I only know a sliver of whatever is actually going on behind the mask she wears. That Exene (or those Exenes) will be colliding in the face of something serious, healthwise.
I've been productive on some prose fiction -- a book I'm working on. I shelved the screenplay; it was nagging at me, and I don't want to pay to enter it into a competition only to lose and be out that money at a time when money's at a premium for me. I'm comfier in short story writing and novel-writing, so I'm staying in that primarily at the moment, even though the opportunities for me to be noticed seem as remote as ever. We'll see.
