by I feel awful! I’m going to go curl up on the couch. Hopefully with a cat. So this is going to be a very short post. I strongly recommend reading this gut-wrenching description of what life is like for women in Delhi. Seriously, it’s not that long. Take the time to understand what life is like for people who live very far away.
I took this picture of Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia. Weirdly, I’d been at the Municipal Archives all morning, going through lists of his papers and correspondence and then on the way home I took a different route and came upon a statue of him. I took it as a sign.
Clearly he’s calling out to the Health Gods of the universe: Make Stacy better. NOW!
Hope you feel better soon! I prescribe rest with a cat, and fluids.
Hope you aren’t getting the flu. It seems to be spreading all over the country.
Kitty hugs and warm soup should help! Take care of yourself.
Excellent pic! I hope you get well soon. Plenty of fluids and silver hydrosol.
Sigh. Join the group. I have the flu along with two other people in my office. And I had the flu shot!
Unfortunately my cats were of no use. I finally had to lock them in the kitchen just to get a few hours of sleep without them yelling outside my bedroom door. I hope yours are more sympathetic.
Hi Stacy,
I’m sorry you are feeling sick.
And yet, who among us knows which is the most exquisite torment? Is it of the body? Or of the soul?
Jean-Paul Sartre illuminated so much for us. No Exit, Being and Nothingness… and of course, there was also Camus.
And is it possible that they received some of their inspiration from the immortal Jean Genet. I light a Gauloise and puff reflectively while I gaze into the middle distance.
And then the following video brings philosophical realization to me… after pain comes understanding…
Henri 2, Paw de Deux: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=Q34z5dCmC4M
Oh Henri, together we lay, forgotten on the couch.
Thank you everyone! I feel better today, but I’m going to take it easy, because all the news about the flu is SCARING ME.
Immortal on the shelf and forgotten on the couch.
You alone know this torment.
The tv mocks me with its endless broadcasting indifference.