When I feel good, I’m outgoing and I like to tease people. As long I’m cashing regular checks, everything amuses me.
Down under, we call it taking the mickey.
My day started out great. I had big plans. The world was my oyster. I was going to blaze blogging paths that would forever change the direction of Western civilization.
Feeling strong, I heaped on the instant coffee after my breakfast. Two big cups. I was going to rock my Monday.
I had big plans.
A few minutes later, I was no longer on top of the world. I was sweaty and nauseous and leaning over the toilet having a technicolor yawn.
As I’m going at it, I’m thinking that I should stop offending people and Trump should stop offending people, and the lion should lie down with the lamb, and everyone should chill under their fig tree.
I become a mentch when I’m ill. I wouldn’t hurt a fly.
This only happened to me once before.
Let me back up.
I grew up a Seventh-day Adventist. Movies are a sin. Eating meat is a sin. Drinking coffee is a sin.
I didn’t have my first cup of coffee until I was 27. With lots of sugar and milk, it was fine, even though it likely made Ellen G. White turn in her grave.
After that first coffee, I had no desire to have another.
Then, in April of 1998, I broke my left wrist playing touch football. So I had surgery in Century City. Coming out anesthetic, the nurse gave me coffee and soon after, I had the only panic attack of my life and threw up.
I like to think of myself as a stern rock that women dash themselves against, but this afternoon and evening, I was completely helpless, and I regretted everything I had ever written or said that caused others pain.
I think today was just my second caffeine overdose.
I can’t believe that one spoonful of instant coffee turned me from hero to zero in about 15 minutes.
I was meeting people, man. I had plans!
When the nausea came on, I took three tums and four shitake capsules, and after 30 minutes, I was back to blogging and meeting my adult responsibilities. I even checked all my messages on Whatsapp and clicked through to sign up for the right things. To be honest, I just want to be alone right now and think about philosophy, but I know I need to connect with people in real life.
What happened to my patience? Why do people frighten me so?
What if I form attachments that reduce my reading and blogging time? What if I start loving people so much that I set aside doing what I want to do when I want to do it and start taking the needs of other people into consideration?
My therapist says I should try caring about other people.
I don’t have the bandwidth.
I turned 60 last week. I don’t have the greatest social skills, but I know that the REM song is right — Everybody Hurts.
I’ve interviewed Dallas Cowboys coach Tom Landry and a U.S. Senator (Alan Cranston in 1986) and members of the Super Bowl winning San Francisco 49ers and some of the biggest names in the San Fernando Valley. I’ve worked with billionaires.
I’ve found that even the biggest names and the most powerful people have enormous vulnerability and will yelp if you press it.
We’re all on that spiral staircase alternating between mastery, grandiosity, helplessness and feeling small in a big world.
So I pulled myself together.
People were counting on me.
I rode the bloody subway!
Downtown LA was nice, but scary.
I couldn’t eat all day.
My work out this evening was impressive. It’s a shame it wasn’t televised. I did five sets of pull-ups (2-4 pull-ups each time). I did three sets of 45 push-ups each. Then I hit the weights and rode my exercise bike while I was watching Beef.
It’s an intense show, man. Gripping. I feel a responsibility to finish it but I’m not in the mood. Mate, frankly, just between us, it was too intense. I couldn’t stomach watching people be stupid to each other.
I needed to watch some tenderness, bro, but nothing sweet.
Amazon recommended the movie The Spirit of the Game, (it’s like a Mormon version of The Chosen, 1981):
Spirit of the Game is a 2016 biographical film written and directed by J.D.Scott with cinematography by Brian J. Breheny (The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert). The film is based on the true story of the Mormon Yankees, an American basketball team which played in exhibition games before the 1956 Summer Olympics.
It’s 1956 and 20 year old DeLyle Condie travels to Melbourne, Australia, on a mission for the LDS Church in an attempt to recover from a broken heart after his fiancée jilted him. He leaves behind a promising college basketball career and finds himself in a city gripped with Olympic fever. DeLyle struggles to maintain his spirits when faced with the indifference of the locals, but when an opportunity arises to help train Australia’s first Olympic basketball team, DeLyle sees his chance to connect. His passion leads to the formation of the Mormon Yankees basketball team, and in the run up to the Games, fierce competition with the French leads to a bloody rematch, through which DeLyle and his Yankees are able to prove their faith – and their mettle – to the world.
It was just what I needed.
Caffeine has turned me into a superman and the world’s biggest wimp. I’m about 30% stronger than normal, and simultaneously weak, passive and desperate to avoid all conflict and tension. I just need the mellow back, man. This caffeine high has gone on way too long.
I should do the right thing. I have responsibilities. People depend on me. Let me talk to Gemini about this.
Gemini says:
You made a classic dosing error that hits the stomach and the nervous system hard. High doses of caffeine, especially from concentrated instant coffee on an empty or quickly emptying stomach, trigger acute gastric irritation. Caffeine stimulates the secretion of gastric acid and speeds up gastric emptying. When a highly concentrated dose hits the stomach lining, the body sometimes chooses the quickest exit to protect itself, which explains the vomiting.
The surge in strength you feel is the physiological result of high-circulating caffeine. It blocks adenosine receptors to mask fatigue, increases the release of calcium in your muscle fibers to allow stronger contractions, and spikes epinephrine (adrenaline). You are essentially running on a chemical overdrive.
To get through the rest of the evening and set yourself up for sleep, you need to manage the residual caffeine and protect your stomach.
Stop taking Tums. Calcium carbonate neutralizes acid, but taking six tablets in one day can cause a rebound effect where your stomach produces even more acid later to compensate. It can also cause bloating and constipation. Your stomach has already emptied the coffee, so neutralizing non-existent acid right now is unnecessary.
Shift from plain water to something with electrolytes or a small amount of carbohydrate. Plain water in a sloshing, sensitive stomach can trigger more nausea. Sip a sports drink, a broth, or water with a pinch of salt. This replaces what you lost when you threw up and helps stabilize your fluid balance.
Keep the workout moderate. The extra strength is an illusion of the central nervous system, not an actual increase in muscle capacity. Your heart rate is already elevated from the caffeine. Riding the bike and lifting weights is fine to burn off the jittery energy, but keep the intensity low. Do not push to failure, as your perceived exertion is skewed right now and you could easily overextend yourself.
Do not force yourself to eat a full meal if you have no appetite, but do not go to bed entirely empty either. An empty stomach can become irritated by residual gastric juices, keeping you awake. Once your workout is done and the nausea settles, eat something small and bland. Dry toast, crackers, or a plain piece of bread will absorb excess acid and settle the stomach without requiring heavy digestion.
The half-life of caffeine is typically five to six hours, meaning half of that high dose is still circulating in your system. Expect your sleep onset to be delayed. Keep the lights low after your workout, avoid further stimulation, and let the chemical surge taper off naturally.
There’s nothing like watching a Mormon movie to avoid unhealthy stimulation.
This was written with love.
For Esme, with love and squalor.
