February 08, 2004

A sore throat and cold shivers have been keeping me up at night. I want to blame my cold on the handshakes I received on the campaign trail, but it would be more fair to blame it on the unsanitary things I sometimes do with my hands. When I’m alone, I often pick my nose.

I didn’t feel well enough this weekend to do the things I planned on doing, like skating with Heather. “Have you seen a doctor?” she asked. No-one sees a doctor because of a cold, so instead I saw my visionary Indian friend this evening.

He bought me coffee and a muffin and made me feel better — whenever he sees me he feeds me. “You’ve grown so thin,” he said. “I’m developing a new ascetic aesthetic,” I replied. I sipped my coffee and then I got excited about the 10 day biking trip we’re planning for at the end of April. Bike parts, trails, dreams, schemes …

But April is far away, and for tomorrow I’m only scheming to skip my classes (again) to nurse my cold and study for my midterms. I’ll also write an article about blogs for Katie West, since I’m interested in exploring the boundaries and narratives that emerge. And I’ll need to find different things to do with my hands when I’m alone …