Last night I went to see No Country for Old Men. If I have anything to suggest about moviegoing, it's this: don't get poutine. I came home, felt queasy, spent the night talking to the toilet bowl. In between trips to the toilet my fever-touched brain kept running over strange scenarios and wouldn't settle down enough for me to sleep. My stomach settled around nine this morning, and I slept until 4:30 this afternoon. I still feel drained and old.
Why am I telling you this? Because I'm putting in my NaBloPoMo dues. Today is the last day, but I had nothing else on my mind besides my treacherous body. So my body it is.