September 16th, 2002

head-4-12-15

the shit sandwich...

there are days when it's hard to breathe at first, an overstuffed feeling like post thanksgiving day bloat--on waking up the sheets and pillowcase feel damp and chilly like it was hot and humid before and then the temperature dropped making everything cold and damp--doesn't matter if the temperature's 75deg F, it still feels cold and damp--and there's this almost undefined uneasyness in the pit of the stomach, not quite nausea but a big breakfast would not be a good idea--a little voice somewhere behind the ear says, "this will not be a good day"--and you believe the voice, 'cause you've heard it before and it tells the truth--then the thinking starts: i feel so rotten, am i ill, was there a dream, what did i eat last night, check the pulse: a little fast, head like a warm wet sponge, and heavy, sooo heavy--take a deep breath--get up...

..and the day goes on and goes on and goes on--and the urge to ask anyone, everyone, strangers on the street: what the hell's wrong? but you don't--it'll pass, tomorrow will be better, or the next, next day...