I’ve reached that surreal zone I get when I’m sick at home alone for a few days.  Like the silence of being underwater, or a vacuum.  I can’t smell or taste much.  My dreams are more insane and continuous than ever.  Can’t focus.  I could eat, or not.  I made it down to 124.x lbs.  People exist as texts once in a while.  And there was NyQuil and there was DayQuil, the [?]th Day.

It’s erev, and I’m not there, unheard of.  It’s E’s birthday, and Stacey and S are in town, still not.  Loucious must think I died or something.  At least I did get the lawn mowed.  I will make it to the first B&B/E’s celebration tomorrow, if it kills me.  At least my remains will be there!  I will be haunting around somewhere.