Sunday, December 28, 2003

Sickened Health for a Sickened Mind.

I've felt like I was ran over by a large, bulking, menancing truck all day.

Last night, as I was talking to Erin about 12 in the night, she mentioned that she felt nauseous, and that's also what happened to me.

I got offline about one as my father kicked me off, and I ended up reading some H.P. Lovecraft stuff from the books I got that day. I read "The Outsider," as well as introduction notes about him.

"The Outsider" was pretty good--but it was the ending that made it work. After reading that story, I started reading "The Tomb," but I couldn't read. I started feeling nauseous.

I ended up staying up until about four in the morning, making me very tired because the night before I hadn't slept until seven in the morning. I just couldn't sleep at all--I wanted to sleep--I even went in bed earlier, but then I started feeling nauseous.

That day I had only eaten a Subway sandwich as well as some chips. So I went up to get something to eat--thinking that was what was wrong with me--that that was the reason why I was feeling so out of it, and as if I was going to barf.

My Dad wouldn't let me eat anything though. I felt honestly hungry. So I ended up going down to bed. Didn't sleep until four in the morning.

I awoke today about twelve in the afternoon, feeling just as bad as I had before. I went upstairs, thinking I should eat something, but thinking better of it; I didn't think my stomach could handle it. So I ended up just searching for something to drink. I decided upon drinking some milk. A stupid choice--dairy products are hard to digest, they only make your stomach feel worse. I just wasn't thinking though. I drank a whole big glass, then soon after decided I need a shower--my whole body was aching.

In the shower I felt even worse. I felt like I was dying--it's the only way to explain it, even though it may be over-bearing. I felt like as I stood in the shower, the warm water splashing upon my back, that I would faint there, collapse. Either that or barf.

I didn't want to leave the shower. But I began to feel so bad and woozy that I decided to get out. I quickly dried myself with a towel--not even all the way--and ran downstairs. There at the sink I sat burping lightly, and then eventually my mouth began to salivate. I then barfed up all the milk I had drank, feeling that horrid sensation that is puking.

I think the flu is a sad trick. When you are hungry, and have not eaten much, it expunges all that you eat. It ruins the pleasure of eating--one doesn't even want to think of food at all. The idea that food is good and nourishes seems badly wrong--as if it were never good at all, and had always been the worst thing to think. The entire feel of food on your mouth as your stomach feels unsettled, telling you, and conjugating to you that you are going to puke, is quite the most sickening thought--it drives you insane, knowing that feeling of food soon to be gone from your stomach, of your stomach feeling so unsettled.

After barfing that time, I have not barfed all day. I felt immediately better after barfing up all the milk I drank, and soon after I decided to try and eat something. I was hungry but not all at once--but I needed to force myself to eat, for I felt insufficent, I felt a need to feed my body so that it does not feel as tired as it has all day.

I ended up eating two pieces of buttered toast, one piece of buttered bread, and two of those pastries we call toaster stroodle, which I cannot spell, nor care to spell it correct.


I managed to keep that all in--and I drowned it with a few glases of nice juice. After this I went down to my room, lying in bed, getting a little sleep in, but not being able to sleep much.

I cannot sleep in the day, and seems in the night I cannot sleep in its day. There is something with me that feels as if day is when work should be done--that I should busy myself with some task, like a prisoner taking his mind off the mundanity and insanity of his everyday existence. So I could not sleep long, and soon after lying in my bed, comfy under the covers, I awoke again.

Time passed like the tedius meticulum of a pendulum swinging hypnotically on its grandfather clock. The thing that is time tick-tocked its swing all about me, me too slow, too much of a bruised blur to encapture what was enpassing. All the same it passed slow, but in the same sweep, at is fulcrum and its arc, it went faster as it went slower.

I played The Sims on my computer for a while. Busied myself away from the one fact that I might have the flu.

I made my own character on that game--I named him Huck Hairyjohns. He lived while I ached. I watched as his neighbors came over, and I spotted the two of them--husband and wife. Huck, in my head, in a dream, told me that the man's wife was hot. So we decided to to amuse her by way of a puppet. Huck went up to her, took out a puppet, put it on his hand, and he spoke in the loud, low-voiced medium that is boisterous hilarity transferred to the lifeless puppet. But no--no, the woman we sought to endear, she did not like it. Negative signs appeared above Huck and her's head as the puppeteering ended. I sighed for Huck, and took him to compliment the fine woman--try to steal her heart again.

Huck spoke in his little Sims garble, "Du da do dah de der da," and just like that, positive, green signs appeared above Huck and hers head--Huck, my child, had succeeded in some accord. For this I was glad.

Soon thereafter humor clamored again--like a church piano not singing of God, but of life. The husband of the fine maiden, whom Huck I had ordered to endear, came up to Huck, stern, angry, and the onomatapeia which escaped hit upon Huck as well as me--the boom, snap, crack, bang, wish, wang, blang--it hit with funny circumstance. The man had slapped me--slapped me for trying to steal his wife.

For this Huck as well as I would repay the fool in heighty debt. I ordered Huck to see the man off of our house premises by way of a kiss on a cheek--to perhaps enquestion this fool of Huck's sexual preference, thereby extinguishing the angry tier that had been formed by Huck and I's instigation of his wife.

But Huck was stuck--he sat in a chair, in our dinning room--and he could not move from his chair. The kiss on the cheek never happened, as sad as it be.

Huck I eventually enrolled in the military. He was promoted once--getting $350 dollars a day. I soon stopped playing The Sims as my interest in it waned.

My brother then wanted to go on my computer, for he had gotten Sims games for the computer for Christmas--expansions to the plain The Sims I already had. I first went online, deciding to attend to some e-mails. But before this I played Silent Hill.

I purchased the game yesterday for 14 bucks. Well worth the pay. I was in the school, in the alternate one that was grotesqued more than the original school. I soon got through the school--battled a lizard, killing it with a shotgun, pondering over how easily I had killed the boss. After that it was to the church, for in the town of Silent Hill the church bell was chiming.

I shut it off soon thereafter though, tired with it, feeling very tired and drained myself.

I attended to my e-mails, then allowed my brother on.

I lay in my bed soon after, but first I decided upon playing more Silent Hill. I got all the way to the hospital--but became stuck, needing to look at my FAQ on my computer, but my brother being on sated this. So I decided, for the first time in a few months, to watch that little thing we call TV.

I immediately came upon a movie I hold very dear--The Shawshank Redemption. It is a movie taken from a Stephen King novel, a quite different thing the story is for Stephen King to have done. It is not horror at all. Instead, it focuses mostly on a man named Andy Dufrane, wrongly placed in the Shawshank prison, innocently boisted and accused for the murder of his wife tha the never did.

That's the gist of it. But it's quite amazing--I recommend it to anyone that wants a good movie that will make you think, and has good characterization.

I just ate some chicken noodle soup a bit ago. It didn't rest with me well at first, and my entire body aches, but I've managed to reticence my chicken noodle soup. I felt as if I was going to barf as I lied in bed feeling the affects of the soup--but none such thing happened, luckily.

And now here I am typing my post. I plan to now go play some Starcraft for a bit, then sleep, and sleep well, hopefully. I am quite tired--my entire body aches--and I hope there is rest for the weary.

Today has been okay, but in reality, I would say it was horrible. Luckily I feel an intuition that I shall feel better tomorrow.

May that intuition be set.



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