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Jett Superior laid this on you on || May 3, 2003 || 9:43 am

Unable to fuck, unable to fight. Barely able to sit here, and am now thinking this was a mistake, this whole turn-on-the-computer-and-do-something thing.

Fever is still here, chills have (thankGOD) abated, and I smell funny. You know, not the standard funny, the funny that smells like nothing else and is associated with extreme illness.

That’d make a great sport, huh? XTreme Illness. It could even have its own channel: “XTREME ILLNESS ALL THE TIIIIIME!!”

Look, I have no control over this. I’m woozy. The visions went away sometime around five ay emm, and I miss them. The visions always seem to accompany the chills when you are very, very sick, and I don’t miss the chills. It’s half a dozen of one, six of t’other, I suppose.

But I really do miss those fuckin’ visions.

I smell chai elsewhere in the house. It makes me want to hit the person who made it in the pit of the stomach so that I can ask them, “How does the chai smell NOW, bucko??”

Sometimes, when a page fails to load properly, I mash the refresh button extra-hard and for half a second too long, as if to tell the InterWeb and my (poor, tired) computer, “Okay, I really mean BUSINESS this time.”

It usually works like a charm.

2 worked it out »

  1. V. 5.3.2003

    I hope you feel better soon, Ms. Superior. Force fluids. But as a future nurse, you know that.

     
  2. April Love 5.3.2003

    I’m so sorry that your feeling icky! If I had a proper, or even functional, kitchen in the new house, I would make chicken soup for my dearest Jett.

     

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