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I gave blood yesterday at work, and it went badly about a minute after the needle went into my arm. I was sitting there chatting with two young coworkers, one of whom looked a bit like Grisha, and I suddenly felt cold and faint and broke out into a sweat. Part of me thought I should just not say anything and see if I would actually faint - but I was having trouble carrying on the conversation - and I found myself, very politely and sensibly, asking to lie down. For a few minutes I couldn't really talk, so all I said was "ping" - they said "ping" back - and then I revived and said "UDP packet storm!" - by then I was almost finished draining. The blood goes into these plump little blood-warm sacks, and is surprisingly dark. I wonder what it would have been like to faint; I've never done it. I guess the point is you don't know, while it's going on. I can never seem to push myself as far as my curiosity would like to go.
A. and I went to se Sunset Rubdown tonight at the Brooklyn Masonic Temple, where we ran into Anna and Misha, and met up with Yaniv and Amy. The templars confiscated my sealed box of chocolate soy milk but, thank heavens, did not find my kombucha bottle. And Sunset Rubdown were terrific, too loud, transcendent, dancey, impassioned. The noise was so great I could feel my body vibrating in all its layers and flaps. Sunset Rubdown are shy and like to play in the dark. So the stage lights were diverted into the crowd and I felt blessed bathed in lavender beams. I'm lucky to be in New York, with so much going on. I saw Anne Carson yesterday, too . . .. maybe I'll write about it tomorrow. It's been a while since I wrote sentences, so my sentences feel awkward. . . .
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