I love those two-headed screwdrivers, don’t you? The ones that you can rotate and either have a flat or Philips-head, and maybe sometimes rotate the shaft of the thing around and you’ve actually got four options at your disposal? We of course have about three different screwdrivers in our home that are like that – I know I brought at least one to the marriage. The options are dazzling. We’re also trying to declutter. J has been working the most in this realm, but my number comes up next Monday. Four hours with the home organizer. J has been having a sort of catharsis working with her. I’m not sure I’m ready for something that heavy, considering what I’ve been dealing with the past month, but I am happy to get rid of some crap at last. She’s going to make me go through my papers. I’m living in a nest of papers. Maybe I’m a rodent.

I’ve been feeling pretty up lately. It’s hard not to feel that way on steroids. Those are starting to diminish in my system, but I’m also feeling good – I went to the gym today and actually did some exercise. I’m pondering getting back on my bike (but need to find a riding buddy, per nurse’s instructions, to make sure all is well my first few times out). I’ve had so many great coffee and lunch dates and went to a great reading last night.

Tonight, J and I saw Welcome to Me, which I hadn’t heard a thing about but the showtime was convenient, and I’m a fan of the Kristen Wiig brand. From the moment it started I knew it was going to be a gripping, hard, fascinating watch, in the vein of Louie or Curb Your Enthusiasm. It was the perfect movie for someone like me, who seems to have fallen into a bit of blog-megalomania brought on by this equation: grave illness + loads of free time + access to wordpress. I really loved the film, and the soundtrack was great, and it should win every award that still means something.

I still have my daily cry. Today it came while having coffee with my friend A. I just get this welling up of gratitude in the middle of conversations sometimes, even if I’m not talking at the moment or thinking about my situation. Years ago, when I was dabbling in choreography (that lasted like five minutes – by far it is the most demanding and challenging of all the lively arts), I bought a book of essays by the modern dance pioneer Erick Hawkins, called The Body Is A Clear Place. I still love that title, but I think I threw the book across the room when I read his phrase, “the everythingness of everything and every thing.” Bah! Still, I think that’s exactly what afflicts me these days. The everythingness. Of everything. And every thing. (Damnit, Erick Hawkins. You win.)

Getting through these moments of sudden sadness gets easier, of course. People who care about you are very understanding when they happen, and it’s good if they don’t let you dwell in it for too long. Tonight, though, I remembered this performance Laetitia Sadier (formerly of Stereolab) gave, of a song that I learned from YouTube comments is about the suicide of her sister.

I remember watching it a few years ago and being stunned by it, and by how she was able to almost break down and then move on. If I write on through this, stubbornly (I do stubborn pretty well), unceasingly, it will get easier to handle.