(after the song by the Smiths)
I did go to work today, supported by anti-histamines, hyper-vitamins and relatedly useful substances and in the afternoon I ran back home: nose running, throat stinging, head swimming, eyes watering. I can read nothing, the monitor's glare is more bearable, though.
Funny how some minor things (like the present physical exhaustion triggered by this bloody sub-form of life cloning itself inside me; thankfully viruses are asexual, it would be too yucky to bear) can occupy a large proportion of consciousness. And then I see AIDS victims, today being the Day (just 24 days before the Feast of Satiety), staying upbeat and keeping on fighting and I feel like the most worthless human being in existence.
No, I do not count myself among those who believe suffering is an essential ingredient of human life, because it allegedly uncovers and forges what is best in us. It is a long debate but no: only in happiness does our true nature reveal itself; especially happiness in the midst of adversity. But we should never confuse this adversity-defying happiness, and greatness in adversity, with the day-to-day corrosive grist of grinding suffering: this is too cavalier a point of view to take.
So, having preached thus, I return to my warm home (featuring a brand new rug as of yesterday) and my comfortably warm mug of chamomile. Moi, hypocrite auteur, ton semblable (?), ton frère.