Depression - surgical segway - Chicago

I've been meaning to write, but I don't really feel like writing...

Actually, I really don't feel like doing much of anything, which I've learned pretty much means that I'm depressed.

I just got back from a nice visit with the SOOTTAD, but I'm back home alone with the cats, trying to get up enough energy to decide what kind of lame, barely-food concoction I can throw together and call dinner. I think it's gonna be spaghetti with sauce and cheese which at least doesn't feel as pathetic as ramen and egg (well, it's good Korean ramen, at least) or mac 'n franks. It's embarrassing how poorly I eat these days now that the SOOTTAD isn't around. I used to cook a fair amount, but those skills atrophied when the SOOTTAD came along, and I've also been busy and low energy, and well, depressed. I mean, she's not here, after all.

But part of the whole depression thing has a lot to do with the lack of exercise. With the beautiful weather and being in the thick of disc season, this normally wouldn't be a problem, but there's the whole post-op cast from the surgery that's keeping me from doing things.

The surgery went as well as could be expected. They ended up giving me a general anesthetic when the local wasn't taking quickly enough. Thankfully, no post-anesthesia problems thanks to an anti-nausea patch they gave me. But man, when the nerve block wore off, it sure as hell hurt like a motherfucker. (thank god for vicodin.) I hadn't expected it to be too bad given my previous experience with hand surgery (and I still have to tell that story one of these days), but that one didn't involve drilling holes in the bone to place the anchor for the ligament or inserting the pin to stabilize the joint. I still don't know what the whole mess looks like since it remains buried under layers of gauze and plaster, but I'll know soon enough. Thankfully, it doesn't hurt so much anymore, only aching from time to time either from lack of movement or putting stresses on things in the wrong way.

Anyway, it's day 8 of no disc, no running. The one-handed showers have been sucking the proverbial donkey-balls, and even then, they do nothing for the buildup of oils and salts under the cast just from day to day movement.

Ugh -- this is turning into a whining post. Sorry.

Trip to Chicago was good. We saw The Aristocrats the night I got in, which was fucking hilarious. Nice quiet hangout time in front of the tube and/or the computers. We're geeks, we can't help it. Saturday night, we did finally get off our asses and made it out to the Kingston Mines.

Funny thing about the Mines, it's the first time the SOOTTAD and I have been out together to catch some blues in Chicago, but it turned out that we had each only been out to a Chicago blues club once on separate visits, and they had both been to the Kingston Mines. The SOOTTAD had visited during a business trip a few years back; I hadn't been since my coach had taken us when we were in Chicago for the NCAA Fencing Championships (and a teammate had made All-American) back in 1989. Good memories, that. The club is split into two rooms, and the acts switch off back-and-forth, so when one finishes their set in one room, the second act starts up the next set in the other. On Saturday, the Chicago Rhythm and Blues Kings were on the main stage, but it was all about Linsey Alexander and the L.A.B.B. on the north stage. (Not just a great guitarist, but also a performer, walking through the crowd as he played. Golden age of wireless, I say.)

A few other thoughts:

• The crowd: a mostly white audience, with more asians in the crowd (maybe 5-6 with the self included) than black folks. I'd say median age in the late-30's. More boomers than I'd expect, or maybe as many as I'd expect given the $15 cover.
• it may be $15 a head, but it's not a bad deal considering they don't kick you out until 5am. If you get there when doors open, that's 9 hours of drunken bluesy goodness.
• with almost every set of both bands, they'd start with one, maybe two, slower blues standards, and then switch over to a bunch of rock covers, at which point a bunch of people would get up and dance. Invariably, we were hoping to dance to one of the slower, grittier bluesy tunes. (We finally got our timing right around 1am.)
• Cover charge for two: $30.
  Two Turkey on the rocks: $9.
  Four bottles of Old Style: $14.
  One Linsey Alexander CD: $20. (Ouch)
  One forty-something white chick, hammered, putting moves on the headliner: priceless.