implicit art

Day 7 of my imprisonment.
It began as a small fever, a sore throat. It grew to a 40/104 fever hallucinating nightmare.This was in days one and two.
Then the vomiting began. nothing would go down - not even water. I had to go hospital for a drip, I was so dehydrated.
The cough. ah, the cough. constant phlegm to grease my throat.
And now, my body is finally deciding to pass movements, and it feels like my @$$ is exploding.
The fever and coughing are still consistent, mind you.
Odysseus, you got nothin’ on me.
Aren’t you glad you read my blog today?

Can one be a bed flower?

Assuming that I’m feeling any better, I’m supposed to be leaving for the Grahamstown National Arts Festival on Sunday. The last few days have been pain—-ful. Really high temps and lots of vomitting. If I let people poke me and did it in a gallery, it might have been an early Marina Abramovic piece….

I’m still in bed, still feeling mis[erable], but better today than yesterday, so am hoping to be well enough to go catch the action. I hear the piece I am doing with the FATC is coming along well. I hope to still be a part of it (and maybe rehearse a bit before it goes live). I’m also looking forward to doing stuttering again, in a whole new scene (now in extra strength, Windows version). But mostly, I’m sitting here hallucinating a little bit. This flu is bad.