And yes, the Hatful of Hollow version is, and always will be better.
I’m not as ill as I was. I spent a day or two actually in bed, and a day on the sofa, unable to do stuff. I’ve now regained maybe 70% of lung volume? If I breathe too deeply it makes a gross crunching sound. I’m really displeased by this. I thought I would be better by now and I’m bored. Today I went outside for the first time in five days because I had actually started going insane. I went to the shop and bought a wine, because maybe that is the true cure.
Thankfully these aren’t the antibiotics that kill you if you drink any alcohol with them. Or make you instantly drunk and then vomit everywhere. If I ever get prescribed them, I actually quit. Quit what? Everything. Alcohol. Medicine. Humanity. Life itself.
I actually have stuff to be doing. I have a poetry gig. I’ve got two ten minute sets at this event.
I AM NOT PREPARED AND I AM NOT OK.
Also I was meant to be writing a novel this month I think.
And some other stuff. Like, stuff healthy people do, while they breathe and laugh and have lives.
I was meant to go to the annual Halloween rave/riot and to my friend’s party and I even missed out on a Calais refugee aid co-ordination meeting. I am missing EVERYTHING. And you should all be glad of that, because my cough sounds really disgusting and you don’t want to hear it. I don’t know if I’m contagious. Just going to wait and see if my family all get horrifically sick within the next few days. If they do, I’m going to be the absolutely most hated person in this house. I am the plague bringer. I brang you a plague. Enjoy it!