05.01.03 - 10:13 p.m.

It happens every fucking time I get home, every time I get away from work, I feel a little better like I might be fooling myself about being sick, but then I nap on the couch or sit for a while, read a New Yorker and it's just as bad, the cough is still there, I'm exhaustsed and I can feel the hollows under my eyes getting deeper, and I know I'm JUST NOT GETTING BETTER.

And I'm so fucking frustrated when I sit at my desk and my head feels stuffed with dull fibers and I stare at my computer screen, trying to make the right words appear but they don't because I'm TIRED, dammit, and why can't I just put my head down and sleep? And I want the words to appear because I want to do well at this, I want the promotion. I need the chance. But I can't, because I've been hacking up phlegm and lungs for a week and it's not going away.

And every time I want to update I end up staring at a blank screen, even though there are things I've made mental notes to write about, I haven't been a complete vegetable, but when it comes time to put fingers to the keys, it's too much of an effort. And I am just fucking tired and I want to be better.

Also, I keep picking at the skin on the underside of my upper lip, and that can't be good. Must not cultivate as nervous habit. Too late.

I was in the car the other day, flipping back and forth between radio stations before I settled on 92.3, playing Stone Temple Pilots' "Sex Type Thing." And it made me infinitely sad that that was the best song I had to choose from on the radio, when ten years ago it would have probably been the worst because there was so much good music getting so much airplay. And now, in comparison, it's the least of all evils.

Of course, I wouldn't have to make those decisions if I would just put some new tapes in my car.

I was also thinking today, after interviewing a raw foods devotee for 45 minutes, how I could never fully commit to a food lifestyle like that. I would certainly love to 'cleanse' my body, to 'detoxify' and reach that level of health, but it would be so much of a struggle. What fun would I have? Food is like my last refuge, one of the few forms of entertainment within my budget. I buy interesting clothes but often have no place to wear them, since I rarely go to concerts, even more rarely to plays and musicals, and vacations are few and far between. I'm almost a recluse as it is - at least let me eat a meal with friends two or three times a month.

Isn't there a spider called the recluse or something? Ah, here it is. I think that's how I'm going to start referring to myself from now on: the brown recluse. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to wander into my bedding, where I will lie in wait for Daniel. Take note, Daniel! "Keep buildings and especially storage areas (closets, basements, attics, etc.) clean and orderly." Don't say you haven't been warned!