me if you read this - but cooking a whole chicken that screams and
cries like a baby in my old houses oven, and then taking it out to
stab it in the chest with a massive knife is NOT cool and I would
appreciate if next time you used your own oven.
This morning was another unpleasant rise into illness, opening my eyes
to an atmosphere which doesn't feel in any way normal. The air is
milky, oily. And moving through it feels slightly alien and out of
body. I called the Doctors to book an appointment for 11 and lay in
bed a few more hours, paralysed by nausea.
Moving out of bed, into clothes and out the door was an experience in
being old-aged and weak. Converse can be a pain to put on at the best
of times and I found it amusing that I was experiencing so much
trouble. All I could think of was how little I desired to ever be old,
a thought which stuck with me as I arrived at the death clinic.
The Doc Surgery here is situated in an old court house, so in terms of
fashioning the building is fairly nice. Modern and functional with
glass doors and such, had a brief reminder that I was in fact young
and technologically aware when I touched in for my appointment
digitally. Skipping the cue of elderly visitors who were doing the
same via the receptionist.
There really wasn't much in the way of reading material, leaving my
eyes to wonder in the way they always do when I am waiting. Analysing
the way other people moved, their posture and trying to breath details
into things they did so as to make up stories about their lives, how
they treat their partners and their outlook, but mostly to try and
work out what was killing them. Needless to say that everyone bar me
was pretty old and so they weren't really giving me much movement to
work with.
Doctors appointment went well, though I assume most do unless you find
that you are rapidly dying - which is theoretically still a success in
that it is a diagnosis. Needless to say I am now medicated, hope to
hell that this shit I am swallowing helps. Feels very odd to write
that as I am really not a medication kind of person. Though really, I
am missing work at a place I enjoy which pays well and I am prepared
to be a bit of a sheep in order to secure that.
On another level, the illness has rendered me unable to really do
anything and so I've been spending my time reading and being
philosophical/thinking about stuff other than my career. It's been
interesting and I think that I need to regularly schedule periods
where I ban myself from my work. I feel a little more human that I
have been lately.
Right, I think that's enough neurosis for one day. One final note is
that I'm a little depressed that despite following several highly
intelligent and talented people on twitter - all I have heard about
lately is new iphones. Lame.
-Hybrid.
