Will it be the drugs that make you feel all woozy and weird, or will it be the sore throat, the sneezing fits, the sniffles and snuffles and snortles, the coughing and wheezing, the aches and pains... Right. The drugs it is then.
In high school, did you ever take a handful of anti-histamines cos they made you feel like you could fly? Oh. Never mind.
Apparently my liver is screwed. Also my immune system went AWOL a long time ago. I blame this on the fact that I took bucket loads of steroids and antibiotics when I was a kid. My mum says, “it could be worse,” pointing out that my grandfather, who is in hospital, can hardly walk. True. But what am I going to be like by his age? Will I ever get there? Maybe I’ll just have to keep taking more and more drugs to combat the effects of the other drugs I’m taking, to treat the side effects of... When does it end? I guess if it ever gets to the point where my quality of life is better without the drugs...
Yeah, I know, all this whinging is wildly out of proportion with the fact that what I’m currently suffering is just a little cold. But in my body, your average cold is quite likely to metamorphose into bronchitis, then the next thing it’s pneumonia, and back to the bucket loads of drugs. It’s all rather disheartening.
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In my head is stuck a song that an ex lover used to sing. Or are there too many past tenses in that sentence? A song a lover sings is in my head all day. World without end.
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Yesterday Mark Doty facilitated a workshop that I was not a part of, but the world goes on. I don’t feel so bad about not getting in, now that I know that there were people on the course who have published more than one book, as well as receiving awards and fellowships... Bitter? Me? No, not at all. But really, what do they need to go to a writing workshop for? The greenish tinge may take a few days to fade from my eyes, that’s all.