I have epilepsy. It is something that runs in my family. My mother had it. A relative from long ago had it as well. She was killed while milking a cow in the 1930’s.
A basic definition describes it as a neurological disorder which causes repeated seizures over time. Causes may not even be knowable in individual cases, but doctors are able to provide best-guess scenarios. This can make it a confusing disease that is generally regarded as controllable.
When I’m feeling cynical I think that controlled epilepsy is just a medicated person.
In my case, the seizures began during my teens, which means that I’ve been dealing with it for a decade. I had to get a neurologist at 15yo who looked at my brain via EKGs and MRIs. He then prescribed a medication that would counter the wild electricity in my brain.
He told me that “We will see if this works. If you have another seizure then we will up the dose until we find something that works for you.”
C’est La Vie
It’s spring. I’m back in Brooklyn.
Using the internet in earnest for the first time in about a year. I think I’m about to not be homeless.
I’ve been a curmudgeon-esque, Luddite-lite, notebook-filling human for the past year. My father had two strokes last year and I lived with him in Florida for nine months. I learned how to write again. With a pen and a composition book.
I moved back to NYC on April 1st. I lived in a homeless shelter in the Bronx for a month. I’m still processing that.
I’m typing and editing my book. Trust Fall is a tentative title. It’s about the hopeful three months in which Kronenberg and I began our homeless adventures. It’s nearly finished.
I’m going to model in Michael Alan’s Living Installation on June 21st. I think it will be something good to write about. I interviewed him a couple of Thanksgivings ago.
I’m also lining up some interviews and polishing some reviews. I suppose I’ll publish them on this blog. That will be nice.
I’m cooking on 23rd street next to the Flatiron Building. I’m learning a little Spanish. I even had a conversation en espanol with the Don Panchito guys in Williamsburg.
I don’t know what I’m doing here yet. But I’m getting close.