when im sick i was taught to sleep on my stomach so that all the goo and phlegm could drain into the nose and mouth. or something.
last night i ended up on my back and everything settled in the lungs.
oh yes this will be a gross entry so exit now while its safe.
i woke up at 7am choking on my own illness. i ran to the bathroom nauseous. i turned on the shower so the steam could save me. it didnt get hot enough. finally it did. and then came the dry heaving.
i had failed at replenshing my fluids, my lungs told me. so i involuntarilly hacked and coughed and sneezed and even farted.
it was wafty sick fart aroma that made me think of this blog and how ive abandodended it. (my spell checker also got flushed.) this, the blog thats given me everything. once upon a time id come here and spill my guts and unleash my vitrol and spread hope and joy and judgement and wrath upon all who had it coming. with a few mere paragraphs this url could stop the globe from spinning and back it up like gwen stefani and turn back time like cher and save the world with modern engrish.
her name was the bride and she lived in a shoe.
biggest problem with this illness is last year at this time i had the best doctor in town. a black gentleman in pasedena who a long time ago, after i had returned from sxsw 07, told me that i was sick because i was disrespected at work and i should seek employment as a blogger. a few months later, magically, i was getting paid to blog.
this year at this time my insurance wont let me go to him. i guess i could go but they wont pay. and im sure he’ll just say you should get some rest and heres some anti biotics then get back to your dream job.
but theres something about how he does things thats the cureall. for example the last time i was there i got sick in the waiting room and his nurse saw my face turn green and opened the nurse door, then opened the bathroom door then had a dixie cup with water waiting for me. something tells me that kaiser wont have such attention to the needs of their patients.
my body is a cage. my soul is john cage. my innards are trying to come out because they heard that my toilet is connected to the pacific and its spring break biatches.
the amount of hate i have for nature this morning is only eclipsed by the disgusting chorus of cacophony bursting out of my mortal coil.
i am a scratched tom waits record being cranked by monkeys wearing pill box hats.
i am defeated.