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Life has been pretty calm since Charles nearly died.

X-Treme Jell-O
A customer is currently giving me his extra copies of TV Guide. Flipping through the thoughtful reflections of the stars and the fifty most exciting moments of Friends this silly attempt to make mom's think their skate-boarding offspring will find thrills in Jell-O seemed the high point of interest. Without lacing it with cocaine Jell-O will never be exciting. Although as I remember from kindegarden days it become revolting if laces with peas or shredded carrot.

Spin Me Around (Like a Record)
I know a few folks who are fond of Dead or Alive. I like Hi-NRG so I gave Rip It Up a couple of tries. Blah. Nothing similar to the pleasures of Marc Almond, Jimmy Somerville or PSB or even the het musicians that I like. I like George Michael better. But he's not a keeper either.

I'm still trying to cull through the electronica and dance music I've accumulated. Finally hit overload I think. Need to get back to rockabilly and jazz vocal. Or finally ask Gordon to dupe some of the things I used to listen to, Velvet Underground and the Beatles, maybe.

(But Mirwais's Production is one of my most recent happy discoveries in electronica. Always a sucker for "stark, sculpted electro beats, running bass lines, and vocoders galore.")

Basic Input Output System
I bought a couple of 40 Gig hard drives. Only to find my four year old BIOS can't see them. I can upgrade the firmware. But feel terribly skittish since an error might leave me without a working computer at home.

I'm a Photograph
(If I have that right.) I've been taking pics of the store. Most of it is for redoing the shop's website. But I'll probably put images of Books Do Furnish A Room's neighborhood (and later my own) up somewhere. When you see the outside of the shop you'll say that looks like a couple of Army barracks. And you'll be right.

No Tunnel Vision
Nattering about all this shows that all is well. It begins to look like Charles may have unknowingly taken the wrong pills. He's in reasonable spirits. I was afraid that almost dying would shatter him with fear. He's more conscious of his mortality but relaxedly and reasonably so.

Charles does feel a little cheated. After his heart stopped beating there weren't any angelic choirs, dead relatives, not even a corny glowing light. What's the point of almost kicking off without the special effects?

It takes six months to get an appointment at UNC-Chapel Hill's Headache Clinic. Charles went yesterday. The diagnosis was migraine.

The doctor admitted that the treatment would be trial and error. He's been prescribed Inderal (a very heavy dose of propranolol). Inderal can cause panic attacks. Charles takes two drugs every day to help hold off his panic attacks (we have an agreement that no matter what we are doing should he ever experience one we stop everything, even if I'm at work, and go home).

It also causes unsteady heartbeat. Ever listened to your heart to see if the throb was regular? Even the most rational person can feel irrational anxiety.

His headaches devastate him. OTC NSAIDS (called "trash medicine" by his doctor) never help much. His heavily reliance on them may be causing rebound headaches. And he'll have to cut the caffeine. He practically lives on Cheerwine. Not a good idea for anybody. But more understandable for someone with Charles' tortured GI tract than than you or I.

Sands Through the Hourglass
Didn't intend to end so gloomily. Charles needs the treatment whatever pains and fears it may entail. With luck the doctor will live up to his promise to have Charles' headaches banish in six months to a year.

On the upbeat, we're doing well together.

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