I don’t have gonorrhea either, damn it (it’s so plausible, that it would almost seem true, doesn’t it?). I treated my illness, whatever it is, with my usual combination of Valium and Xanax for three days, and then as I had completely ran out I just started swallowing unlabeled random pills that I found in my “little drug house” and a vague resemblance with my valium pills. Now I am down to taking sleepgels maximum strength (some over the counter bullshit I bought before my prescription drugs period). I just refuse to experience even the slightest pain (mostly due to some odd sore throat which is more fluesque than malariaesque one has to admit) or awaken moment. The boredom of being sick is enough. As a result I am acutely confused (much more than usual). The jogging doctor prescribed yet another cycle of antibiotics and some flu stuff that I take out of politeness on an ad-hoc basis. I watched two awful movies Vanity Fair and Heads in the Clouds and read my favorite book about a serial killer for the 17th time. Then I moved to the guest bedroom so I feel like I am in some (oddly Tintin-themed) upscale clinic and also because the stench in my bedroom had become unbearable (I haven’t showered since Thursday morning but sweated profusely over the same period). My temperature, which I obsessively monitor, had reached 103.5 at my worst is now at a disappointing 100 and only shows up at night in order to make sure I don’t sleep more than twenty consecutive minutes.
A few friends called me today only to relate how much fun they had the previous night at Fagat’s fabulous NYC birthday party (must have been pretty good, he spent his day adding friends on facebook between 8:12 a.m. (!) and 1:18 p.m.). Others to tell me how they got wasted on Thursday night and they plan to get laid at Russ’s birthday bash. Some hunk delivered me flowers and a nice card. The unnamed destination ended heavy street fights a few hours ago and I was told that the Saturday plane was hit by a truck last week.