Have you ever tried speaking on the phone without a voice? Futile, I tell you. But you already knew that.
My throat is killing me, still. There remains little to do but to sleep and be drugged and watch crappy Canadian renditions of American television programs on the internet.
Dreams in such a state are surreal beyond explanation.
I missed English yesterday evening. I hate missing class.
I WANT TO BE FUNCTIONAL AGAIN.
And so I fabricate lofty adventures to carry out when I am well.
My tonsils and I are no longer one entity and all is full of woe. I think the pain medication that was given to me is a placebo, too. Hoodlums.
I eagerly await the day that I am a fully functional person again and I can talk and swallow and all sorts of other cool pastimes.
I’m consuming the time by “eating” liquids and frozen things and watching movies ad nauseum. Tonight I have “Labyrinth” and I’m thinking it’s going to be pretty spiffy because it stars David Bowie in a mullet. Additionally, George Lucas produced it. It looks tackier than heck and I’m quite excited.
My art portfolio is almost presentable and for this I am glad.
Nothing noteworthy has occurred, hence my silence. I’m reading this super book by Dostoevsky and my paintings are as brilliantly saturated as the final frames of an anti-depressant commercial. Cheers.
