Out Sick

I had so much planned for the Thanksgiving holiday weekend — so many things to get done before December. Then came the sore throat, the stuffy head, the fever, the chills, the body aches and pains. So, my weekend was blown. Since Friday I’ve been huddled indoors coughing and blowing my nose. It has been a most unpleasant holiday weekend. And the whole time I’m thinking of all the stuff I haven’t been able to complete.

Sure, I’ve tried to get some things done, but I have found that is nearly impossible. My head hurts too much to get any reading done and my body is too weak to accomplish much else. It requires all of my reserve energy to take the dog out to the bathroom two or three times per day. People keep telling me to rest and drink liquids, but that isn’t much consolation when you’ve been robbed of the only legitimate 4-day weekend of the entire year.

Everytime I feel this way I bemoan the fact that with all the science, progress and innovation in the world that we are still unable to cure a simple cold. Is it a cold? Is it the flu? I don’t know and I don’t care. All I know is that I feel like crap and that no doctor on the planet can help me feel better. I used to waste the energy to seek out medical treatment for this type of thing, but after 20 odd years of trying I have given up. Medical doctors are about as helpful when you are sick as talking to a cab driver — plus you have their exorbitant fees (and the inconvenience) to put up with for them to say “There is not a lot I can do. Go home and rest.”

Regardless of how much I despise being ill, I am trying to find anything positive in the experience. One big plus from the weekend is the discovery of Mark Kozelek. While watching Steve Martin’s new film Shopgirl, I noticed this amazing touring band in many scenes called “Hot Tears.” So I went to talk to my good friend Google and discovered that this band does not even exist. I was, like, totally sad. But then I found this Kozelek guy and the bands he has been in before (Red House Painters, Sun Kil Moon) and was happy to know I could go buy some of his awesome songs.

I am also hoping to lose some weight while sick, since I’m eating roughly 1/3 of what I normally would in a day. That would be a major consolation prize for a week of illness. Please pray for me and send healthy vibes. Peace!

Alva All Better Now

Don’t worry everybody! Alva has fully recovered after a few allergic days. All is well in Dog Town.

A Toxic Cloud Hovers over RDU

Last night I went to meet some friends for dinner at Jason’s Deli in Durham. The whole ride out there was somewhat surreal because everyone was driving annoyingly slow and this hazy cloud of yellow “sand” was blanketing the skies. I don’t think the blinding pollen swarm was responsible for the slow driving, but perhaps the allergy medication of the drivers was to blame. Regardless, a short 10 mile drive took over 30 minutes. (Drivers around here really need to pull their heads out of their asses.)

During the meal, a disagreement arose over whether it was possible to use MP3 files as ringtones on certain mobile phones. I asserted that this was possible, but that it was a hodgepodge of exclusive phones; some which accept .wav files, some .mp3s and some midi. So we wanted to go to Best Buy to have their highly-technical sales staff settle the argument. The distance between the deli and the electronics store is roughly equivalent to three city blocks. Thinking we were invincible, we set off to find answers to our important questions.

We didn’t even get 10 steps into the journey before the biggest puskit of the group started crying about “Oh, my eyes! I can’t see!! My eyes hurt! Waaahhh!!!” After getting summarily ridiculed and putting contact lenses into one’s filthy mouth, we were back on the path to Best Buy. But with each vehicles passing, more toxic pollen dust would scatter and we would have to relive the whole temper tantrum experience. Everyone else’s eyes were getting clogged, but only one of us was having a seizure over it. Halfway to our destination, I contemplated turning back because the whining was too much to bear, but since we had come this far it only seemed natural to finish the quest.

When we finally made it the 900 or so feet to the store, we saw that the doors were blocked with metal gates and the remaining employees stood inside laughing at us — blinded and beaten by the pollen sirocco. By this point, none of us could see, we had completely run out of water and Jay J had already consumed his ice cream cone topped with pollen sprinkles. The situation was getting desperate, but I knew that we couldn’t panic. If we panicked, we’d be dead meat out at the No Hope Commons and surely the buzzards and bats would begin their gruesome flight patterns overhead.

Thankfully, we all made it back to our automobiles and I was able to free myself from the noisy shackles of Sir Whines-A-Lot. The drive home was the exact same experience, but I could actually discern that the pollen haze was growing thicker and angrier. I am hiding in my house until this health epidemic passes.

The first picture is of a car hood that is supposed to be black. You can see how aggressively the yellow mess bonds to paint (or anything outside). The next image offers more perspective into the terrible suffering caused by nature. First cold and now poison. What’s next?