Monday, February 9, 2004

Hopefully this will pass with the same quickness that it emerged. Last night: quick, happy. This morning: slow, tired, sore throat, and sore upper back. My glands are swollen. The passage in my throat has shrunk to a miniscule size, requiring effort to even drink water. I would like to call in sick today, but I will save this sick day for a day when either I am immoblized sick, or insanely happy and the sky is clear. Why not get paid for being like this?

Last night, I took a bath in the dark, lit only by the lights of Brooklyn coming through the bathroom window, by the stick of incense burning and by the lovely sounds of Frank Sinatra. It was really nice. I must do that more often. I stayed in the bathtub until the water turned cold, exploring my asshole, which I am just learning how to do. The last time I attempted fingering myself was back in high school, I believe, and then, I don't think I was too succesful. Last night, I was at least more so, touching weird muscles and insides that I definitely did not reach in high school. It was a weird sensation feeling the inside of my body. For a brief second, it made me scared, this fragileness being felt, and I thought about death, and the impermanence of flesh. This morning, I read about giant squids and I experienced a similar sensation, reading about their nervous system, about the mechanics of living things. The skin creates this illusory boundary, that there is something more than simple parts, than prostates and ink sacks. Illusion temporarily fades, flashes of something else, a hidden world, appear with swollen glands, massaged prostates, and knowledge of the squid's digestive system. Then flashes of something else appear when warm tea is consumed, or when the prostate is touched just so.

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