I dislike the concept of illness-as-identity. It lingers, keeps you separate from the rest of the world, here you are in all your otherness catapulted out of everyday life, the workforce, normal physical productivity. I am a walking fever, a harbinger. So you look away. If I could, I'd look away too.
Last night I dreamt of museum tour groups as an elaborate ruse for alien abductions. Go on the tour, get implanted with alien mind control device and be complicit in the planetary takeover. The aliens were humanoid, horned, gold and white, glowing. Later, I was in a warm, brick-walled kitchen making homemade tortillas on an iron tortilla press. The juxtaposition of the ordinary and the strange, the familiar and the alien seems thematically significant.
I am currently reading Duplex by Kathryn Davis and it is wonderful so I keep stopping after brief intervals because I don't want it to end. I am watching X-files reruns which might explain the alien dreams and also iZombie which is more entertaining than I expected. I don't watch The Walking Dead anymore because I got super bored during season 3 and generally am SO OVER the zombie thing but I like this new show, probably because I need my monsters to be sentient.
Also, social media gives me the blues these days, but it is so hard to step away from it.
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