I can write on this blog every day.
Oh yes I can. You know why?
Because I just decided to, that's why. And I have a fever. And let's not forget that I've spent the day half-awake, swimming in and out of fevered sleep, drooling on my pillow and popping ibuprofen.
And smelling, frankly, not so good. I can smell the fever sickness coming off my skin. It's bronzed, toned, rippling skin, but I wouldn't go sniffing at it. Should I get me a shower? Oh sure, but the back pain kicks in, and the nice shower turns into me in a foetal position in the tub with hot water striking at me mercilessly from above.
Let me tell you, there is only one way to spend a four-day August weekend, and that's sick like me. I can't even be bothered to read In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower, even though it's right at my bedside. That sort of shit requires concentration, which I don't got today.