strange to have actual bodily sensations to report rather than the usual metaphysical mini-seizures. thought i was over it saturday, even managed a couple of optimistic hours at 'l'amour electronique' (drinks consumed: one, length of time taken to consume said drink: two hours).
sunday i awoke with visit from mucus fairy, who'd clearly been toboganning huskified slugs through my respiratory system for much of my sleepytime. energy levels drooped to melodramatic levels - own body so heavy, uncooperative. also: bone-cold, accessorized with shivers. alternating with long feverish fully-clothed sleep episodes, natch. made lonesome pilgrimage to supermarket, moped round aisles and bought really strange things i don't usually eat - suddenly craving savoury rice?
today, better. until i tried to speak to other human beings, when my voice rasped and i performed choleric arias that riff interminably, aching the side of my throat so that i end each blast with an involutary 'ow'. also: i make exertion noises when completing simple tasks. it is pathetic. for lunch, i cdn't quite finish a bowl of chicken and mushroom soup, for dinner i stalled on the last couple of potato wedges (i managed, like, three forkfuls of fucking savoury rice). cdn't manage work, thought it might set me back to stagger to workstation like a cheerful, masochistic plague victim (now with added *team spirit*).
my room grows increasingly disordered. the idea of tidying it seems impossibly decadent. at least today i manged to get hold of some new music for the club, and have been making serious inroads on michael billington's biography of harold pinter - when my atomized attention span allows it. bah.
i am secretly tending a conviction that tomorrow i shall have lost my voice. if so, i shall come here and offload the most venomous string of expletives this side of the infamous volcano Mount Nasti, in japan.