Yesterday I was in denial, popping vitamin C, telling myself it’s alright to stay up till 3 am fixing up the studio and ordering concert tickets online, I’ll be better tomorrow. Well, today was tomorrow, and I… AM… DYING. All I want is to curl into a snail-shell while that snail reads The Hobbit to me in the proper accents.
I AM SICK. What a grotesque thing… my body’s been invaded by a virus that has turned me into a sniffling, red-eyed, groggy mutation of myself. The deteriorating phase of this illness is getting real weird. Teary-eyed, blowing my soul into a tissue, I literally asked myself, “How could anyone ever love me again? Why would they?”
I feel like George Costanza in the Pony Remark episode of Seinfeld, when he said, “You know, I’ve been thinking. I cannot envision any circumstances in which I’ll ever have the opportunity to have sex again. How’s it gonna happen? I just don’t see how it could occur.”
Um… yeah. How’s it gonna happen?