today entitled SICK DAY slash CHANCE ENCOUNTERS
You're going to make me a sandwich? It's sandwich day!
I came home woozy and ill and tired tired tired 10:30a walked home I would not have wanted to drive so it is fortunate I use no car on a regular or shall we say normal basis. No; we shall say I live like a student in the student ghetto, with a whole houseful of student business student people Or How I Learned to Love the Bomb. Hello; hello this is a very strange day with items termed "rife" and "unsteady" and most of all painful. I came home from work in the cold outdoor, ate eight pieces soy bacon and got in my flipped out futon which provides daily walking room when unflipped. It flips out in a dramatic fashion FOOMP.
I woke up at 1:30 This was a bad idea If only I could sleep for nine more hours Nine is an interesting number being comprised of three threes and hence triangular I am not even a math student not hardly. Nine. Now I have an orange divided into greater than nine sections but I don't know exactly since I already have consumed a good 2/3 of it. Oranges orange. I forgot how they tasted it seems like although this is not true.
I got up from my going home from work to feel better nap and felt much much worse and could not deal with it and eventually went and got in the shower in a calming sort of way but it did not clear any nasal passage to speak of, no and I came back stayed in a lump on my bed for a bit trying to figure how to function again and the equilibrium which I had entirely lost.
There are three segments left. Now there are two. Two is not such an interesting number.
After a while I made onion soup and tea although caffeine hates cramps but it is late enough that it should be ok at this point, and tea turned out to be a correct operation to undertake. Kasa Sinharaja. And onion and butter and pepper in the water, with bread and so I drank my tonic.
This is a continuation of the terrible last night in which I collapsed entirely and could not say anything coherent it felt like for hours and this is possibly the actual interpretation. I regressed into highschool and lay in the dark in my room listening to toad the wet sprocket (yes you see highschool) trying to figure. I started to read James Merrill and that set me off this was Mirabell: Books of Number.
Now I have it open again and some other: one Sir Keith Thomas Religion and the Decline of Magic two David Cressy Birth Marriage and Death: Ritual, Religion and the Life Cycle in Tudor and Stuart England three Geray ed. Readings in Medieval History and four another James Merrill this one a more vague and less topic-oriented Selected Poems 1946-1985 but I like Mirabell better and so I have as yet hardly opened. I feel like James Merrill is a quality investment. James Merrill and the Virgin Mary and Ephraim talking at you in tandem and this is hardly past the third page. But then if it makes me one break down two fly into the keyboard like this then, well then you have made a serious investment.
We hear from Matt that Mary's two weeks old
In Iceland. Better late than never, he is
Making strides: I HAVE 1000 EYES
DEAR SON FORGIVE ME NEVER LET MONEY SOUR U
I PITY THE OLD ME I AM AT LAST
AWAKE ALIVE & LEARNING IN A GREAT RUSH
DO NOT RUN YRSELF DOWN MARY DID THAT
HER WHOLE LONG BEAUTIFUL STORY WAS ONE BLUSH
IN A WOMAN FINE IN A MAN WEAKENING
DAVID I WANTED U TO BRING US BACK
TOGETHER I STILL WANT IT FIND HER FIND ME
IN MY NEW LIFE HER NAME IS
I don't watch out I'll be running headlong like Monica Furlong into the mystics. Around the corner in the corridor slap bang. This really is not something really to watch out for.