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Monday, August 12 I'm sorry, what did you say?
If you want to take a break from the atrocities of terrorism, anti-Semitism and strong feelings of "what the fuck can I do?" then just do what I did: Get an inner ear infection. I think this is the third one I've had this year. My doctor says they're brought on by my allergies, which somehow quadrupled after September 11th. I'm fully expecting to turn on the television one day and see a special on the airborne disease downtown New Yorkers caught in September of last year that was all hushed up. But enough about conspiracy theories. My point is, having an inner ear infection sucks if you want to have any balance whatsoever, (ballet and tight-rope walking are lost to me, alas) but it's great for zoning out from life. Hell, I feel like it's the '70s all over again, and I didn't have to smoke anything. I had another one of my fabulous roof parties, at which I grilled steak for 50 people and fed it to 13. Everyone was talking at once and floating in and out of conversations and I couldn't focus on a single thing anyone said. So I just sat there and smiled and agreed. The really weird thing was everyone thought I was totally entertaining. They thought I was ^%$#& charming! This weekend, I went to my pal Joanna's wedding. It was truly beautiful. She went with a Pacific Rim theme, and everything was jade green or bamboo brown with chopsticks and candles and lots and lots of tropical drinks. Joanna looked glorious, and the Asian-inspired food was beautiful (even though GASP, I didn't cook it). The food, FYI, was prepared by Caroline, who occasionally works as one of my sous chefs, but clearly she's been holding out on me, since she never once shaved a jicama or pickled a ginger on my watch. M.E. says I intimidate kitchen babes. ... Must be the army boots, but I digress. Anyway, the point is that all this gorgeousness was made magical and dreamy and, well, rather blurry by my inner ear infection. It was great! Normally, (whatever that is) I feel far too guilty about the thousands of lives disappearing before my eyes those many months ago in September to allow myself to truly enjoy something as shallow as, say a celebration of love. How can I possibly allow real joy to settle in, when so many have suffered? I should put down my margarita immediately and mourn!! Yes, and all that self-sacrifice does exactly what?? For anyone?? I'm quite certain the innocent lives lost on 9/11 will not be brought back by my lack of joy and their families will not gain happiness by my suffering. So why not have the fucking margarita? 'Cause I'm just nuts, that why, and I've been nuts since September 11th, and I don't care who knows it anymore!! Which brings me back, yet again, to my inner ear infection. It let me have fun. It even, took away so much on my inhibition that I was finally, (after 3 and half years of her trying) able to truly let my Cuban mamasita lead on the dance floor. Honey, you should have seen the white-haired family contingency from Germany. At first they thought we were just being, well ... European. The dizziness in my head took the fight out of my spine, and I just let go. I let M.E. push me and pull me through the dance floor, twirling and swaying and shimmying and, I might have dreamt this, but I'm pretty sure M.E. even got me to dance to Spanish music without looking like a gringo idiot. "You were amazing!" she said shocked and confused. "It's called an inner ear infection!" I said, radiant and still spinning in my head from the spinning on the dance floor. An elderly, but SPUNKY, woman who'd been close dancing with her husband a few feet away came up to us. We prepared ourselves for some sort of "Don't do that in front of the children" lecture. "You girls are so courageous! I'm so proud of you!" she beamed and kissed us both. "I see so many couples like you who are too afraid to get up and dance. Don't ever stop!" She kissed us several more times, and hugged us, too. Then, for the rest of the night, gave us the thumb's up sign whenever we hit the dance floor. Now that was a rush. One moment I was getting carried around the dance floor while my brain spinned and then next I was a gay role model. The night was delicious and sweet and surreal and loving, and never once in all that jade and bamboo did I remember the demons that interrupt my thoughts whenever I start to feel at peace. I guess if I were well, then I'd have to admit to you that letting myself go like that means I'm some sort of a traitor to 9/11, but I had an excuse; really I did. I've been sick. This inner ear infection, you see, and so I think it's OK for me to be dopey and happy until it goes away. Maybe I'll catch a cold by then.
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