I was all enthusiastic about posting whatever, whenever, when I realized that’s a road to ruin I’ve tread far too many times on other platforms. Ticktok is the worst I’ve yet pulled.
Listening to my Spotify Wrapped 2022. Oh perfect, Fantine’s death aria.
I keep checking to see if the Goat Blood Store is open yet. By that I mean a local Mexican restaurant that made me fall in love with Birria. Straining the broth and drinking it first, as a restorative, has had remarkable effects in fixing nutruitional deficits left by the coma. Or that dasteredly full moon blood loss.
Today I am feverish and shaky. There is never a day without a symptom. Or several. I picture a square grid in 3-D with psychological on one axis and physical on the other. As symptoms rotate unpredictably, into each little box in the grid is how I feel mentally and physically at that given moment. Next 3-4 hours, then it shifts.
Understandable it’s completely impossible to plan anything in person, social or otherwise. I don’t even have friends in Reno. My local extended family stopped inviting me for holidays a few years ago.
So perhaps you can understand the thirst to soliloquize at y’all besties. Alexa, the walls and the cats have heard enough.
In a few minutes the fountain of goat blood will open through Doordash. I reconsider. A large cup of Bisque subdued my thirst. Drowsy now. Doordash delights will be there another time.
Sure, the feverish trembling wraith bit might sound goth if you’re 14. Well, it feels like shit and so do I. I’m lying in bed considering another swig of cough syrup. Rewatching AHS: 1984. Again. As I did yesterday.
I read online about new COVID variants with names like Kraken, XXB 1.2, XXB 1.5.
Is that what this fever and depressive hence goes the downward spiral feeling is? Or is it just Thursday? Does it even mattter? I die or I don’t. Until I do.
As for coming back from the dead, one of October 2021’s coma theories? I will save that discussion for a later time. Once that door is opened…. so many unknowns I realize I know nothing.
I’m waiting on a home COVID test. Feels like the green mile. More like five minutes. The light hurts my eyes. The test is negative. It’s six months expired.
Three days of sleep and I’m back to… whatever this is.
Andrea Lambert 