So things were going pretty damned well until the food poisoning.

But I've been neglecting this blog, somehow, and it shows--the simplest of moments and the funniest of incidents are forgotten. For instance, at a certain restaurant in Chinatown, there is anti-Chinese racial discrimination, as Chinamen are not allowed to take dumps, for there is a sign that reads, "Zhi ke xiao bian/Bu ke da bian"--but in Chinese only--Anglos are instructed only to not toss anything other than toilet tissue into the toilet. Oh, well.

It's been a good weekend, skipping out on my teacher-friends to eat with Joephet in Ktown and then head back to Astoria, where I caught Kill Bill with Alric. This was not necessarily the best of ideas. Then general sleepery and slackery and on to the next day: did anything happen? Does it matter? So much work now to get done. Yesterday was more active, with Chinatown and Alric in Bryant Park, and online dating and the like, but the food poisoning (I suspect a Vietnamese sandwich) was unpleasant, and I am still recovering. Going to sleep some more, and then try to put together my life a little further. Or something.

Joephet's been a dear through my infirmity. Sigh. Sweet thing. I really shouldn't call him a psycho-bitch anymore. Even when he is.