October 18, 2014
I have The mono.
I have spent the majority of the majority of this past week upon a couch of illness, half asleep in a gondola on the most boring river of Hades. I cannot write. I have tried. In evidence I present to you that last paragraph, or, alternately, this blog entry which was started–no joke,–nine hours ago.
I do have ideas though, little fireworks which fly up into the sky, brilliant and bright…only to flare behind clouds of rumbling and impenetrable darkness.
But I have a notebook with me, and I wrote some of them down with a maniacal and wavering Sanskrit. Jotting them down like rare and confusing words of prophecy.
I also drew pictures.