bellum contra influenza usus frigus: war against the flu using the cold... sure, even Socrates famously meditated in the cold... i only had one meditation this time round: get me... of this weak-bed! get me off it! i'm not going to be weak when spring comes! more cold! give me a hailstorm! i'll cure myself using cold weather!
you get sick for about 5 days, it's really rough, you test positive for Covid... but it's not Covid... it's just this freak flu... your bones ache, your muscles ache... you're lethargic... you're ****** with yourself that you're so weak... but you still go and do two grueling shifts at Wembley... strange April cold... the wind is bothering you... but... that's how the cold helps... sure, taking a mixture of paracetamol 500mg), promethazine hydrochloride (10mg), dextromethorphan hydrobromide (7.5mg) does help... but nothing helps against a cold... or the flu... as... doing a grueling shift of standing on your feet for about 10 hours, getting bashed by the wind gusts... the rain... it sort of reminded me of that saying: fight fire with fire... well... fight the flu / a cold... with more cold... it worked... i ploughed through... the muscle aches are gone, the bone pains are gone... the lethargy is gone... i was cooking again today... making my father lunch... i can't wait for tomorrow... i'll be working in the garden un-******* all the wooden decking, peering inside at the rot... before a patio is going to be installed... wood... eh... it lasts a good decent decade... that's going to change... hell... 3 days... 4 days of feeling ****... but if the medication isn't working... time for something ancient... find the bug with... cold weather... more pressure... more pressure... more! 10 hours standing coordinating people... 3 hours on a bicycle feels like less strain than standing up like a soldier at an unknown soldier's memorial... no one some of them drop down from exhaustion... your arms - shoulders are strained... pompous ******* role... but i appreciate this is unimaginative writing... it really is... i have still retained the blocked nose and the cough... as the saying goes... an untreated cough and blocked nose lasts 14 days... a treated cough and block nose lasts 2 weeks... you heard me correctly... it's unavoidable... but pulverise this little **** in me that's hitchhiking with conditions unsuitable for it... let some bigger virus scare it... and to think: sometimes i'd look forward to sitting down with a bottle of whiskey and scribbling anything down... now... i'm thinking about Sunday... and whoever West Ham are playing... about going among people and playing my role as the serious silent type... surrounded by people who... as of yet... haven't talked much at work except for work... no chance of talking about... anything... really... i dare say: Heidegger's hammer is bad joke... could i talk to someone about philosophical matters on the job? hell... music... could we talk about music? could a ******* wheel of a car "talk" about the temperature of the road at noon in June? to... the car's engine... hyperbolic language... i'm still not ready to return to being fully possessed of my mind... but my senses are more focused...
- and its like these moments when recovering from an illness that might shave off a decent proportion of the population in their 80s... if i didn't go into the cold... and instead... cowered in my bed sheets... in the warmth: perfecting breeding ground for this little bug to build up a collective ego... a refocus... but why do i write this? i'm comforted by the existence of tabloid journalism... sure... i'm using up the energy of a light-bulb to scribble this down... but i'm not chopping down a tree to make some paper... why does a song like British Warm by Normil Hawaiians have only 2.2K views... what am i going to do with my time? watch t.v.? i like drinking and looking into the distance... at shadows... at trees without leaves... at brick walls... perching on a windowsill... smoking a cigarette... scribbling... i literally having nothing better to do... it's not even that those respected poets on poetry-foundation.org are anything to go by... so politicised... sure... perhaps this is a waste of time... but at least i'm not watching t.v.: just this blank screen upon which words appear from my itchy finger tips... i scratch my head: try not to think... i take comfort in not being married... it's only sinking in: right about now... if i think about having to keep dates... dinner dates... keeping conversation with "friends"... last time i tried that... i ws ushered off into the gutter... he brought out a pretend violin: brushing it all off... i know he too had problems... i was willing to listen... but he wasn't willing to talk... right there and then... i thought: **** it... i'm not willing to meet up and watch movies with you, while you smoke marijuana and i drink a beer... i raised my hands high up in the air... and then dropped them down: crescendo style... an expression of: c'est la vie! at this point... i don't think it would be: even remotely... a good idea to have friends... what... when an hour with a ******* suffices?! now i'm like... talk... about what?! i can exercise my needs on this canvas... and i'm happy with that... well... if not happy: then certainly not sad... i'll go see ol' Thames at Coldharbour - or at Putney Bridge... i'll go into Bower Wood and say hello to the forest by knocking a firm branch against a pillar of a dead tree... if only this climate could allow living off of pine-nuts and other such gatherings... i think i would... society doesn't phase me...
the world continues to do its little spin on and off of crazy... i tried watching the first 30 minutes of... about 4 different movies... pretty woman, four weddings and a funeral, Notting Hill... some other... instead tuned into the tennis at the Miami ATP... that too started to bore me... i was thinking about the next shift... doing... **** all... beside... putting on a mask and pretending to be nice, pretending to be polite to spectators... bouncing around their enthusiasm... it's not even like i don't care: but i just don't care about the sort of care they think i might provide... i care about what i'm willing to give... rather than what they might receive... clearly... i'm fooling them... since... eh... long story...
but at least this is not the tabloid press... i'm "bored" of living with people of grandiose self-importance syndromes... just give me a ******* drill... some decks to unscrew... stack them high... stack them low... the best health is found bound to interacting with people one day... and a day... say... spent... chopping wood... dealing with inanimate objects... you can't mould these: esp. if you're trying to salvage them... and then... return to animate objects... people... the sanctity of silence... why... would i be talkative about work when i'm doing it? sorry... what sort of ******* is necessary to mingle, "correctly"?
i figured... as long as you're not at work trying to waste someone's time... that's enough... do what you're supposed to do and... *******... and my ****** mistake... of fancying a girl who started working... i played a tight game... liars don't walk on stilts... what a waste of a homemade wine... i should have drank that... since i made it... tough... well... one less spell of dandruff... so... a win... considering i still managed to find the best **** i was searching for for the past 14 years... yawn... but at least! at least: no chance of a #metoo backlash... yawn...
scribble so more... well... i'm hardly built for writing a Dr. Zhivago... honestly? the film was spectacular... the book? honestly? well obviously i'm not looking for Sveedish applause towards a Nobel... am i? but the book? compared to the movie? sort of falls short...
most of the time when surrounded by people: it's so comforting to be around yourself... being solaced by an apron of silence... when you talk with only grimaces... you hold sway with non-verbal cues... it's so comforting to not talk when you're otherwise prompted to talk and you're like: huh?!
i look at it from a lens... a lot of 1960s American culture... the whole state of Israel wouldn't have happened... if the Holocaust didn't take place... crude, rude... the world keeps knocking at my door and i'm like: and what the **** do you want? what ****** liberation? what great / grand awakening? i'm scribbling toward 12am to subsequently fall asleep to... listening to... le chant des templiers... because... i don't have a wife: because i can...
i like the idea of a wife... but... the chains of being perpetually needed... to have this persistent call for company... it's sort of... itchy... always having to need someone... what great new upheaval will / might generate a mighty cultural influx of creativity... and then the outlier that always come late to the "party"... the Sons of Sam... etc.