I blogged via iPhone Thursday night and didn’t post it. It’s probably just as well, but, at 2AM late Saturday night, it’s Ambien time again, and my self-censoring doesn’t work well right now.

I’ll block-quote this in case I have any observations 48 hours later.

New bed sheets! Rarest of occasions. From IKEA. I love IKEA. written by iPhone, got some ambien going on so there are my excused for a disjointed post.

Today, I assembled my big purchase from IKEA–a new chair. Maybe I’ll have a Pulitzer-winning post about that in the days to come. Here’s a spoiler: it’s a POÄNG. (For some reason, the website fails to list the combination that I actually got.)

Dialysis still a pain in the ass. No one left to blame. Garrulous patients, waking up to sweats, waking up to frigid air, being paralyzed in deep sleep after coming home, feelin feverish the entire time i am at work…no desire to do anything productive after work on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

No comfort to be told that my “numbers are great.”

I’m getting lots of advice regarding whether I should have my kidneys removed. It’s seeming like the doctors are going to leave this chilling decision up to me.

What good will having the surgery or the transplant do me?

A nephrectomy post is in order for someday soon. Nephrectomy…what a lovely word. Oh, and I’d be getting a double-nephrectomy.

Tonight, the Durham young progressives who go by that name that I will not explicitly address had what was probably a pretty neat confluence of the local progressive intelligensia (word?) I long ago decided I felt isolated from this group despite numerous attempts to assimilate.

Too many grad students and post-docs and artists and community organizers and bikers and tri-athletes and assorted hip people of the world…I feel like a NOTHING around these people and when I do go to something, I leave the gathering prematurely .

I have yet to find a way that would let me stay. I reached out a couple of times trying to get the magical answer from the wise oracle of community organizing. Too busy or my problem is too intimate for an answer to be provided.

These kinds of thoughts related to feelings of alienation occur whenever anything is happening around town that I think I’d be interested in if not for the feeling that I just don’t quite fit in. Unfortunately, this means I don’t go out and try new things. I become more and more isolated from people. I live, if I am to believe The Independent and Bull City Rising and Barry’s blog and other exceptional sources, in a progressive, smart, vibrant, fun city. But I stay in my house.

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Tonight, I have found myself with writer’s block, obsessing over the point of this site. I am reminded of a post I made back in September 2008 called Block.

My WordPress admin page to Add New Post…I have a blog…what do I want to do with my blog…

I star dozens of Google Reader articles every week, ostensibly because I want to share them with people…but I usually don’t…because I don’t know if I’m preaching to the choir…or trying to grab the attention of people who might not otherwise care about something..and am I really making anyone care who didn’t before…or is it ok to just post something to make the point that I care about something…

I have more lousy experiences at dialysis than I chronicle in here…but everyone gets the point that dialysis sucks…what good does it do to chronicle it in detail…especially because I’d truly prefer not to think about it when I’m not actually there…

The occasional ramblings about feeling like a failure…Feelings along these lines bubble up far more than I choose to write about them in here…I don’t know what I am accomplishing when I publicly write about these feelings.

Pet photos…I keep taking ’em, and I keep posting ’em…the world must see my pets…

And why I’m reeling off thoughts about blogging tonight? I just noticed it’s been a week since I posted anything.

But I’m digging up what I had saved on my iPhone only, and you’ve read that. So this is sufficient for tonight.

It’s 2:35AM now. Sleep very soon…and likely sleep until I convince myself that it’s ridiculous to remain in bed any longer (likely 11 or 12:00).

Where’s the requisite pet pic?