Angst, ague, amigos

This is my 3rd day home sick. The symptoms include feeling guilty about not being at work infecting my comrades, capaciously hungry with morning nausea and a gurgly tummy, wanting to sleep all the time but it's difficult to sleep, fatigue, hot/cold flashes and a yoyo libido. Tell me it's my andropause! Though Id like think Ive already been thru that selfish shit.

A herbalist friend would have me soak in the hottest bath with a dollop of chilies and ginger powder. I didnt have the ginger so I added crushed chillies and some cinnamon powder because it smells like it couldnt hurt. It felt great as I soaked listening to severe bedayan gamelan pieces. But now I feel hungover and my bum feels unnaturally hot. (Note: chilies have an alarming effect on delicate tissue... so, now you know).

A would-be friend who disappeared for 2 months knocked on my door and asked to use my phone. He had been through hell and was bringing it back to share with us all. I consoled him gravely; rigor mortis with anxiety. Adding to my anxiety is my work piling up as my body refuses to heal (Heal, boy, heal!), not calling my psychologist cause I'm too anxious to talk about my anxiety, and anxious about avoiding music practice because the social scene makes me anxious.

Learning to be a Thing

Imagine a classroom or the one you are in right now.
It is a lake.
Just out of wading’s reach are heaps of wreckage doing yoga asanas.
A boy who doesn’t feel himself today is walking bitterly on slimy stones, slipping and walking on bird-covered stepping stones.
They fly on and off as he walks, and he ignores them,
best as he can,
until his ears are shaken by the continuous flapping.

Things are moving like a quick cloud around this classroom. Gulls, crows and jays remind him of something, but he can’t make out a thing.
Smoking clouds drip ferns on the mountains on either side of the lake.
This classroom is as suffocating as a room.

He noted several types of water, the birds noticed several types of water, but he could not remember the word for water.
The idea of water evaded his thoughts, which went:
“There is a link between all these things:
the thing that flows
the thing I breathe
the thing that laps
the thing that chills
the thing that drips speckly
the thing that prickles.
I’m just fooling myself, there is no point to create a link between these things.”

The dog chases its phantom tail,
long ago cut by the well-meaning school-master, who often pointed out,
“Some things are better left unlearned, unsaid, and undone.”

Crises unfold in the laugh of luxury

The soul-less minions of orthodoxy have so far reacted to my purported nuclear test with indifference. But as West Van matrons, and other imperialist running dogs, who tear down alternative rock posters from telephone poles, move to slap stricter sanctions on my isolated self, some community standards experts say there's a risk regional tensions could disrupt my alternative laughstyle.

While the newly entitled mothers with their children ensconced in hummer-prams have no immediate cause for concern, my nuclear arsenal could add a new element of instability to the cosiness quotient of my neighbours who don’t do their recycling, said a creep who called me a faggot in Caffe Roma.

"Commercial Drive is really a dynamic community at this stage, but a spoiler could be military tensions with the Last Lapser," he said.
The likelihood of a military conflict is slim, he added. "But it's thinner now than it was two weeks ago."

After I claimed I successfully conducted a nuclear test last week, my neighbour moved to punish me by bad-mouthing me to their doctor at the walk in clinic where I get my antibiotics if my pimples turn into boils.

And my long-time ally who raises wild plants, condemned me over the reported nuclear test.

"Ultimately, everyone recognizes a military conflict with the Lost Lapser would be extremely costly and the outcome would be unpredictable," a pushy telemarketer said, adding that the community would possibly try again to engage me in diplomacy.
But, the Ayahuasca dealer noted, sanctions resulting in a blockade or quarantine could spark strong backlash from me.

"It's in the realm of the possible that inadvertently, a nuclear indecent would occur," Lina at Caffe Napoli said.

Desperately pooped and paranoid, I do not contribute to the region's robust community standards.

"It's almost as if Commercial Drive is the donut, and he is the whole," a volunteer at the Community Policing office said off the record.

Nonetheless, a parking meter attendant noted, jitters set off by me could eventually hinder the smoothly functioning sphinctres of my neighbours.

Trade between my community and me is negligible. Last year, two-way trade was a mere $21.7 million. And though the little lady who collects the beer bottles has diplomatic ties with me, there has been little exchange between us since 2003, when I withdrew from the neighbourhood block watch treaty for nuclear non-proliferation.
Vancouver-based community standards specialist Al Anon said there are many factors that could indirectly curtail status quo opportunities for yuppy-wanna-bes in the rest of East Vancouver.

The Team Vancouver administration, which regards me as among the "asses of evil," has advocated stiff finger wagging against me over the past week.
Anon noted that further nuclear tests could provide a pretext for Kitsilano to implement new "anti-terror" measures or travel restrictions to the region, which would hamper West End emotional investment.

Also, if South Granville. ramps up its military presence in Strathcona and drags Chinatown into a conflict with me, "that may directly affect us in a major fashion," the neighbour who clips my hedge when I’m not around, said.

I’ll forgo my own opinion in lieu of idle speculation.