hollywood & alameda
82 degrees, sunny, subtle breeze. i'm swaddled in purple and black to move with that breeze and to billow if a gust gets under the surface. i told her to come along because it was her last fighting chance to get a taste of summer. she didn't come along, but that's okay. i'm only on the ground for five and a half hours.
this trip is a confluence of contradictions and contraindications. doling out for a paid upgrade to first class but taking the 222 from BUR to hollywood & alameda. a flight of nearly a thousand miles for something i could - in theory - do a mile from home, albeit possibly at more expense. masking in transit but being worried about whether the doctor will take me seriously unless she can see my facial expressions.
it's one of those days that the pain is worse in my toe and ankle joints than my finger and wrist joints. i'm glad i shifted my MTX to thursdays, instead of tuesdays. today. national wienerschnitzel day. maybe i'll be able to stomach a couple of chili dogs on the way back to the airport. i don't think i could do that on my dosage day. anyway, it's a good midway stop between my appointment and the bus stop.
i debated how much i should pack for this trip. i keep joking to my friends — my socal ones — that there is no point in seeing me on the trip because i'm on the ground for less than five and half hours. i think about where i might need to stay in order to be fifteen minutes away. i look at my account balances and think about what favors i can call in. so much for seeing those socal friends.
my butt hurts from sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair at alameda and ontario. i try to remember if i did my electronic check-in for my appointment. i have to arrive 30 minutes early. i always arrive early anyway. i don't remember if i self-reported my diagnosis and meds. i thought this system was supposed to be epic. all i hear is the creaking of massive bureaucracies trying to find each other's weak spots in the dark.
two thirtysomething white guys with unimpressive facial hair are talking behind me about their podcasts. of course they have podcasts. actually, one of them didn't; he's a youtube video essay producer. even though i've got hum blasting with noise cancellation on, i can still hear their prattle. "arm the dolls," one of them says. i try to ignore them harder.
the girls aren't here. one of them is having a fibro spike; another in greener pastures; another still just back to work. i remember how much i enjoy traveling alone while thinking about how lonely i get if i'm gone too long. i reassure myself i'm only on the ground for about five and a half hours. i'll have been in transit altogether for closer to fifteen.
i decide to write out some notes to myself to remember what this is like. my therapist is going to ask, i fear, and while she knows this saga too well, it will probably be too easy for me to gloss over my details. i'm always five minutes late to therapy and it always takes me a few more to settle into the right headspace. at least this time i'll have notes.
the sunlight filters through the branches and dapples my wrist. it feels warm under the breeze. i glance at the clock and see that it's coming up on 45 minutes before showtime. i consider the words i am using and will use to describe myself, these thoughts, these senses, and these memories that brought me here. i wrap all of them snugly in corrugated cardboard, a series of still, red frames growing longer with every batch of footage.
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note: work in progress lastmod: 2025-09-09
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