as expected, i have no voice to speak of (heh heh.) i can't believe my body held off the harsh, insistent copenhagen cold for three months only to finally succumb come may. the concert was the catalyst but i knew i'd been heading towards this point for days. i recognized the signs. and this morning i arrived in full-blown nose-blowing mode. welcome to ill, population: 1: you.
when i'm sick, there's no hiding it. i wake up looking like roadkill. by noon my condition is visibly upgraded from Cross the Street and Hold your Nose to Extend Pity and Offer Tea. by night i'm back to something you want to kick back to the gutter.
i get along as best i can, doing things that don't involve talking. this morning after six hours of sleep (what sadistic impulse in me refuses me a deep, dreamless eight?) i curled up and finished smilla, the character of which i liked more than the story. now i'm at DIS about to watch riget, van trier's creepy series. if i can hold myself up, tonite'll be chai and dye w/ anne.