Sunday, October 19th
5:18 pm
I again apologise for the lack of posts lately, but I have been really, truly, ear-plugged, bed-ridden date-cancelling sick. Yup, that sick. For five days now. I haven’t taught a class since Wednesday. On Friday, I called everyone I know in the hopes of hearing a friendly voice because I was both stir-crazy and restless, congested and scared of my sheets. So if you got a nasaly call along the lines of: “Heeeeey….where are you? At work? Really? Why-yyyy?“ in your voice mail at about three pm your time, understand the underlying factors.
And so tired am I of coughing and nose-blowing (and did I mention date-cancelling?) that I have been forced to do something I never believed I would do:
Gather ‘round children, and I’ll tell you the tale…
Picture a closed, dimly lit room. Not a sound to be heard* for miles. Your heroine was truly in the blackest of despair--what could she do but believe the folk-tales? There is said to be a mixture here that will cure all ills. What other hope had she? Suggested by every toothless witch-woman in this land, she has looked to this potion with the same fear as one would look at a brew concocted of eye of newt and tongue of bat. But so deep was her pitiable desperation and suffering that she had no choice but to go in search of whatever unholy cure she could find. She was driven far from the warm safety of home, turned out on a desperate search into reaches unfathomed** into weather as foul and howling as that of Hades itself***. And there, between the dried animal flesh**** and frothy, foaming green liquid*****, she found the quested item:
Garilka. *clap of thunder/lightning* *cue scream*
For those of you that did not gasp, garilka is peppered-vodka. You actually can buy it back home, though here you have several options as to brand in even the most poorly-stocked convenience store, and it‘s only five dollars a bottle. To reiterate, this is vodka. With pepper in it.
And I am to drink it. *cue another scream*
It sits on my bed in front of me right now, a fire-coloured liquid swirling behind the glass. A hot pepper bobs along the top like a severed finger, twisting and spiralling and dancing inside the bottle…mocking me… knowing I will come…knowing how desperate I am.
I cannot do this…
5:25 pm
Oh shit oh shit…..what f*cking foul potion of the Devil is this?….If Lucifer himself spit in a glass…oh Jesus, Mary and sweet Saint Joseph…it burns…save me…
5:29 pm
Dude, that stuff is totally working. For the first time in six days, it does not feel as if someone could crack my lungs with a ball-peen hammer.
6:00pm
Aw, man….this stuff is awesome... Screw chicken soup.
And they all lived Healthfully Ever After******
*except for traffic, construction, and the neighbour's some seventy five dogs.
**the next apartment block.
***It's super cloudy out
****jerky.
*****Fanta lime.
****** (I can breathe through two nostrils!--at the same time!)
5:18 pm
I again apologise for the lack of posts lately, but I have been really, truly, ear-plugged, bed-ridden date-cancelling sick. Yup, that sick. For five days now. I haven’t taught a class since Wednesday. On Friday, I called everyone I know in the hopes of hearing a friendly voice because I was both stir-crazy and restless, congested and scared of my sheets. So if you got a nasaly call along the lines of: “Heeeeey….where are you? At work? Really? Why-yyyy?“ in your voice mail at about three pm your time, understand the underlying factors.
And so tired am I of coughing and nose-blowing (and did I mention date-cancelling?) that I have been forced to do something I never believed I would do:
Gather ‘round children, and I’ll tell you the tale…
Picture a closed, dimly lit room. Not a sound to be heard* for miles. Your heroine was truly in the blackest of despair--what could she do but believe the folk-tales? There is said to be a mixture here that will cure all ills. What other hope had she? Suggested by every toothless witch-woman in this land, she has looked to this potion with the same fear as one would look at a brew concocted of eye of newt and tongue of bat. But so deep was her pitiable desperation and suffering that she had no choice but to go in search of whatever unholy cure she could find. She was driven far from the warm safety of home, turned out on a desperate search into reaches unfathomed** into weather as foul and howling as that of Hades itself***. And there, between the dried animal flesh**** and frothy, foaming green liquid*****, she found the quested item:
Garilka. *clap of thunder/lightning* *cue scream*
For those of you that did not gasp, garilka is peppered-vodka. You actually can buy it back home, though here you have several options as to brand in even the most poorly-stocked convenience store, and it‘s only five dollars a bottle. To reiterate, this is vodka. With pepper in it.
And I am to drink it. *cue another scream*
It sits on my bed in front of me right now, a fire-coloured liquid swirling behind the glass. A hot pepper bobs along the top like a severed finger, twisting and spiralling and dancing inside the bottle…mocking me… knowing I will come…knowing how desperate I am.
I cannot do this…
5:25 pm
Oh shit oh shit…..what f*cking foul potion of the Devil is this?….If Lucifer himself spit in a glass…oh Jesus, Mary and sweet Saint Joseph…it burns…save me…
5:29 pm
Dude, that stuff is totally working. For the first time in six days, it does not feel as if someone could crack my lungs with a ball-peen hammer.
6:00pm
Aw, man….this stuff is awesome... Screw chicken soup.
And they all lived Healthfully Ever After******
*except for traffic, construction, and the neighbour's some seventy five dogs.
**the next apartment block.
***It's super cloudy out
****jerky.
*****Fanta lime.
****** (I can breathe through two nostrils!--at the same time!)
1 comment:
It's always the worst things that seem to make you feel better...
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