indent

Hey, chickens, just to clarify, I am fine.
A little congested, a little sick, but nu. Anxiety shit is at least absent for now.
Now I just need to dig into the Bergson. I wish I could read French well enough to utilize
http://www.webdeleuze.com. Seeing Deleuze's manuscripts makes me feel better about not having my
computer with me. Maybe I'll just handwrite the damn thing and then go type it at school. Haha. I miss
everybody I love at home but I'm also getting sad about the prospect of leaving folks I've come to love here.
I have pseudoephedrine, codeine, paracetamol, and caffeine powering me through, all of it in microscopic doses plus
some Tesco orange juice.

All is full of love, just need to remember and make manifest.


ps-Lindsay, if for some reason you're reading this, you were in my dream last night!
We were bustling around getting ready to go to some party.

but you can only be expected to count so high

( I smeared myself in pennyroyal to keep the hounds at bay. )

Cos it's in my head and I would count my blessings but that would seem to subject them to quantitative multiplicity when obviously they're more continuous, virtual, and qualitative. Despite weak and bubbly tonsils, intermittent panics, and lack of sleep, they shoot through, die out, shift and endure. (Now I've got Cherry and Trane's "The Blessing" in my head. How'm I ever supposed to concentrate?)

In other news, who's the best at getting extensions/never managing his time? That's right. So now I have time to make dinner for Cathy's birthday and bake a birthday cake and maybe stay up a lot once I feel better working on my paper and maybe even study but probably not.