I Opened the Window and Influenza!

I need three of me to do my business. For damn sure. Design by Novaslim, 2004.

I borrowed the title of this entry from my beloved Cynthia Heimel.

Let me start this by saying that I love my life. Wouldn't trade it for anyone else's. I like everything about my little life, the nooks and crannies and the kooks and nannys. All of it. Even the low points. The depressions and the results of the last election. Sure they suck, and as a result the Republicans will now run the White House, the Senate, the House and will continue to develop and spread their special brand of hate and stupidity throughout the world with disasterous consequences for all involved, even the mentally-challenged who voted for Bush who not only live in the red states, but in blue ones as well, but hey, think about what it's going to do for our art! It's great, it's good, it's butter. We all still live and hopefully strive to live better every day.

Snot-nosed and congested, I am plucking out this entry from my bed, ensconced in down. The flu threw a knockout punch Tuesday night and although I stumbled through Wednesday, Thursday I finally hit the mat, face down with a thud and a wimper. For the past three months I have been planning, executing and/or participating in the following activities: two major exhibitions, hiphoproots: origins and impact, and art in harlem: everyday people. A reading at Hueman Bookstore. Other writing gigs. Larry. Larry and Carla and Alem and Niki and Heru and Artis and my two cats, Rufus and Romeo, and, and.... Thanksgiving with the Caldwells in Jersey. Chilling with the Caldwells and the Lyons's in Baltimore. Working out (yeah, in the bed with a pint of ice cream!) FUNNY business, readings, reviews and reverie. New projects on the horizon. Practicing compassion and forgiveness. Journaling. And it don't stop.

But now I have stopped. Being ill isn't easy for me. I need an ill-o-meter, something that I can stick on my tongue (shut up!) and it could display digital messages like, "go lay down, idiot, you're cranky and ridiculous" or "drink more water and chill out," or "your shriveled green heart fell out a few months ago, Mr. Grinch, get a new one."

I am also very challenged by me. My energy is off the fucking hook. It usually takes more than a tickling in the throat to get me to stop moving. Why? Because I think I can get it all done. Yes, I do. I am wrong. Actually, I thought I had it licked, this not-running-myself-down-to-the-ground thing. Guess not. My body likes this bed and the fact that the phone isn't ringing and that my mailbox is empty and that the house is silent and that there is nothing to do but read at leisure and sleep.

Sleep and silence.

No ending, just some hastly thrown sentences for your reading pleasure.

Friday, November 26, 2004 @ 09:46 AM