Meh.
This cold has gone from an elevated agent orange to a funny purple opulence, bruised with nasty consequences. I think it's actually the flu. That aside, I had another day of recovery. In bed, with TheraFlu induced dreams of strange proportions. Wacky ass dreams of the times I was in Grad School, and bizarro psychological sexual things. It was like I was having rhetorical sex with Donna Harraway, with her harem of ultra feminist techno friends, including Octavia Butler (an African American sci-fi writer, her stuff is amazing), and Avital Ronnel was there, and I think Joseph Kosuth was moderating the whole thing.
 photo by d. scott gregory Cuisine Kitchen click on photo to enlarge |
Totally fucked up. I surfed my daymares with all the elloquence of being subdued with the flu and skipping over syllables of the haiku of TheraFlu.
I awoke at about 7pm and took a shower - I was skanky from sweating off all the flu stuff. Prepped myself to run out and get some more TheraFlu and a DVD rental (Four Brothers - a silly action flick, shitty, but entertaining). Came home and cleaned a little (kitchen - pictured), and took the evening in stride w/ movie, laundry, et al. Pissed that I missed another training ride, but my body needs to get better. I think I overcast my health yesterday by going on that ride - now I need to pay the piper. On many levels.

Chatted with a friend, we talked about bluetooth headsets - I have one for my cellphone, dislike it - makes me look like a total dork. But, my gosh...they have these cool ones for cyclist dorks like me - combo of cellphone + MP3 player, not that I need a distraction while I am out there training, just a cool concept. In fact, the events/races I do - they ban them. This one is called the "Thump". I figure it's the sound a truck makes when it runs over me.
Tomorrow's another day. Period.