I don't have to pay tuition this semester, as a massive grant came in. In fact, I'm being paid to go to school, which is just as it should be. I have a cup of tea in front of me, a bowl of peaches, and I just had some toast. These sick days linger on and on and food becomes 80 per cent ill, as if I don't need it, as if I haven't been compulsively eating for the past 24 years of my life. Maybe it's time I give it up for a few years, sit around in diapers waiting for next Liberal Premier, the next Liberal Prime Minister, waiting for the next Catholic I didn't vote for to tell me how I should go about it.
On the plus side I'm playing some accordian today for a short animated thing called "Don't Touch My Ass". A piece done by R.R. and his brother about two Mexicans fighting over a donkey. I should bust out my portable piano and get to work.
Yesterday I was reading savage poetry in the library, blowing my nose into envelopes and cackling and moaning with the sickness. Apparantly everyone's getting sick, and it's contagious, just like Ovaltine. Remember to drink your Ovaltine.