Life

I contemplated writing a bizarre post in the throes of my cold-induced incoherency (not simply cold by the thermostat-- we're talking nose-dripping, head compressing, throat mucus-coating blech cold-- a state of being). Actually, I don't know if that is simply myopic thought... hmm. Did I really consider writing whilst cold? Or is this simply misplaced wishing, regrets at what would have been supremely hilarious (as a few friends, who received emails from me in this state, can vouch for) skewing what really was? In any case, I didn't, and am simply expressing my remorse in not so doing.

So anyhow. I watched the debates last night. Joe the Plumber wins.

How can one stop those sluice gates in the brain? After images/words/sounds are liquefied, they open and hasten them through cartilage channels to irrigate what crops you've planted below your eyes and nostrils. And then those images/words/sounds are soundified, primal groans of travail. You're growing a sorrow. You're birthing a joy.

Tomorrow I am going to DI with my roommate to do some halloween costume shopping. fun fun! should be fun. Well I am pooped. and still sick. grechhh.