I write today under the malaise of my linen duvet. My throat hurts. I have lost my voice; I am bored and I feel extremely unproductive.
I have watched the shadows skirt slowly across the wooden fence in my front yard. From my pillow, I see the light of beautiful, sunny day. There’s the sound of a gas-powered leaf blower. Planes fly too low overhead and a German Shepherd barks in the yard next door. The orange trees dance behind the glass panes of our white french doors—I can see there’s a breeze in the air, but I cannot feel it from in here.
The ceiling fan has been set on low and looking up now my mind begins to spin.
“What do most people do when they are sick?” I think to myself.
By “most people” I of course mean the artists, the millionaires, the egregiously beautiful people of this planet—do they wither amid the doldrums of a prickly throat as do I?
The internet tells me I should be resting. Lie in bed, you simple fool! And this is our AI doctor speaking, so I try and I try, and I can recline only so far as to convince myself that I have become nothing but a lazy man.
Rest.
For it is today that I want nothing more than to be better tomorrow. Nothing, the only answer. Yet, still I wonder: What do all the beautiful people do?
My brain function’s not at full-capacity. I have laid in bed all day. A green smoothie I drank this morning and a slice of leftover pizza I ate this afternoon. The clock reads 5:30pm.
To be sure, Alex takes care of me, she always does. But she’s at work this afternoon—in the air to Las Vegas, gone until it’s NyQuil time.
Such a beautiful day.
What the fuck can I do?
To do nothing, it seems like my life will forever be the same. Productivity is a religion. I’m a piece of shit for being sick, is what it is. Roll over me with that.
I miss writing.
I miss driving across empty places.
I’m a man, but understanding is often left for children.
My life is ripe and my life is perfect, and being sick today is my greatest worry. I have everything already. Yet, I can’t help it.
This sore throat is choking me.