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Thursday September 28, 2000
"We must believe in luck. For how else can we explain the success of those we don't like." Jean Cocteau
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dizzy Work goes OK. In one meeting, I am cheered at the possibility that a co-worker can do a task for me. And do it well. I'm less taken with another collaboration although the people mean well and work hard. I'm not pleased with my own work either. For lunch, SuRu and I go to Sonic. We sit in the car and order foot-long hotdogs and cherry limeades. There aren't many drive-ins left in America where they bring the food out after you order from a little speaker. Lots of drive-throughs. I despise those. But this is kind of fun. A bee buzzes in and out of the car, going for the cherry limeade. After shooing him out a few times, we roll up the windows. It's still cool enough. At the very end of the day, I look up to speak to SuRu. My head spins with dizziness. The pressure change of the weather has made me feel dizzy, but this is ridiculous. I stand up to leave a few minutes later. It feels hard to walk a straight line. I sit in my car in the parking garage for a few minutes. With the motor running. I listen to Carol Shields reading 'Larry's Party.' It's a melancholy book. I feel too dizzy to drive. I call SuRu and leave a message. I know FFP is at Westwood. Finally, the dizziness lets up. I drive home and take a decongestant, call SuRu and beg off dog walking. I sit down in front of the Olympics and try to read a bit. I'm finishing up 'Cadillac Jack.' Written a couple of decades ago, the hero is freer with his sexual organ than a modern hero would be. 'Cadillac Jack' gets to the heart of the materialism that surrounds us. I've read it several times. FFP comes home and makes me a salad. The decongestant seems to have relieved the dizziness. I don't feel like doing a single thing, though. And I don't. I just fall into bed.
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